Between Two Thieves

by Solomon Carter

  Dawson frowned. “And they’re here again?”

  “Coincidence don’t you think...? And I just overhead a woman ranting at Tommy Pink about how she’d seen him arguing with Carl Renton on the day he disappeared. She swears Tommy Pink must have had something to do with it, and I’ve got good reason to believe that she’s right.”

  “Reason to believe...?” said Dawson.

  Dan had drawn up at Eva’s side and heard most of the exchange. Eva looked at him and he nodded. It was time to share what they knew.

  “Last night we kept the marine centre jetty under watch, and we saw those two men bringing in a shipment of what I’m sure were class A drugs. Specifically, we think they are importing the Ubers your drug squad and everybody else in the town are in a flap about.”

  “Those two?” said Dawson. “How can two market traders be responsible for all that.”

  “Not all of it, Rob,” said Dan. “Just the local trade. From what we saw, I think they are picking up a small haul from a larger delivery vessel out in the water.” Dan’s eyes flicked across the street and caught sight of the jet ski shop on the corner. He narrowed his eyes in thought.

  “Okay,” said Dawson. “We’ll talk to them, soon as we get this site under control.”

  “You need to speak to that witness too. She’s over there,” said Eva. “Her name is Rosie Crimper.”

  “Rosie Crimper,” said Dawson. “Fine. I’d best get on. Thanks for the tip-off.”

  “They’re involved, Rob,” said Eva. “Pink and Grace have got serious questions to answer.”

  Eva nodded at Dawson as he pushed on, nudging through the crowds to the body at the centre. Now Dan was the one walking away. He climbed over the sea wall and headed for the street. Eva called after him. “Dan. Where are you going?”

  Dan nodded to the shop across the street. “To the jet ski shop.”

  “But why?” said Eva.

  “Something I need to check out, that’s all...”

  Eva watched him cross the street as Joanne drew up at her shoulder.

  “I can’t believe the nerve of that Alice Perry. I heard every word of it. All the front, after everything she put both of you through.”

  “Oh, I can believe it,” said Eva. “A leopard never changes its spots. Especially a nasty one like that.”

  “Should you be worried?” said Joanne.

  Eva shook her head. “No. She should be worried. If she tries anything like that again, she won’t know what hits her.”

  Joanne nodded. “I’d like to be there when it happens.”

  “I wouldn’t. Come on. I think I need more coffee. And more painkillers.”

  Eva turned to stared at Tom Pink’s back while Joanne frowned at Alice Perry in the middle of the pack. The journalist was all smiles, working the crowd and chatting up the male police officers, milking everyone for her next big story.

  “Come on,” said Eva. “Let’s go before I drop to the sand.”

  As Eva and Joanne started to trudge away, Dan walked into the jet ski shop across the street.

  When Dan walked inside, the lean silver-haired guy behind the counter looked up from his glossy marine sports magazine. He looked tanned and healthy, and his hair was close cropped. There were sea sports toys of all kinds cramming every nook, cranny and wall space. The place was a feast for the eyes. Dan noticed an open folder of abandoned paperwork beside shopkeeper’s magazine, along with a messy stack of receipts and an equally abandoned laptop. Even the way the man was reading his magazine seem half hearted. Dan guessed he’d been looking across the street to work out what was going on, just like all the rubberneckers slowing the seaside traffic. Human nature. Dan watched the man’s eyes drift over his shoulder back towards the beach before a lazy smile appeared on his face.

  “Awful business,” said Dan.

  The guy’s eyes latched onto Dan like iron filings to a magnet.

  “What is it? What’s going on over there?”

  “A body has washed up on the beach – so they tell me,” said Dan.

  “Is it that missing Christian rehab guy?”

  Dan’s eyes caught sight of the bright red masthead of The Record newspaper sticking out of a pile of papers and magazines behind the counter. The shopkeeper was a reader of Southend’s sensational newspaper.

  “Probably, yes,” said Dan. With a corpse across the street, the conversation about the body took the place of standard pleasantries. Gossip over, it was time to get down to business.

  “So, I was wondering,” said Dan. “about a couple of things actually. About jet skis...”

  “Jet skis?” said the guy. Dan watched his demeanour change back into business mode. “Great. Okay, so what are you into? Performance? If you like a bit of power and performance then we’ve got a GTR 230 over there. It’s a bit of a beast, but you strike me as the kind who could handle it...”

  Dan glanced across at the gleaming black and blue machine at the side of the shop. It was angled at the window in car showroom style, and Dan quietly acknowledged the thing looked good. A powerful jet ski looked as good as a performance motorbike.”

  “Yes, it looks good,” said Dan. “But it’s not—”

  “Not the one for you? Okay. So, if you’re just starting out, maybe you’d want to consider a Spark. But I really think you’d do better with a GTi...”

  Dan raised his hands to stop the flow of words. “Thanks, but I’m not in the market yet. I’m just looking around.”

  “Looking? Fine. You can look as much as you like, but if you want some serious thrills, you need to try one of them. After that, you’ll be hooked, I’m telling you.”

  Dan nodded and cast a glance of appreciation around the shiny jet skis taking up the floor space all around him. The walls were full of sea sports' equipment – kayaks, body boards, stand-up paddleboards and small surfboards. But the main part of the shop was all about the jet skis.

  “So, how long have you guys been here?” said Dan.

  “The shop? Near on forty years. Not me personally, of course. But that’s how long this shop’s been going.”

  “Okay... and you?”

  “Thirteen years, give or take,” said the man, grinning. “Long enough to be an expert, I suppose.” Dan turned idly towards a rail full of wetsuits.

  “I’ve got a deal on C-Skins wetsuits, if you’re interested.”

  “Thanks,” said Dan, but he turned his gaze back on the shopkeeper. “Listen. I’ve got a question about jet skis. It’ll probably sound pretty dumb to you but hear me out.”

  “No question is too dumb. Fire away,” said the man.

  “I saw this one jet ski the other day. At least I think it was a jet ski. It was really dark, you know. Still very, very early. First, it sounded like a speedboat engine, but then I saw this arc of water spray coming from the back of the thing. Shooting up and back in an arc as the jet ski moved...”

  The man behind the counter nodded. “Sounds like a jet ski. They roar like a motorbike. Especially the big ones. Was it like that?”

  “Yeah... it did sound like that. Do they all shoot an arc of water like that?”

  “Pretty much. But not all shoot the water out the same way.”

  “The one I’m thinking of shot out a lot of water in like a big curve. I saw that clearly.”

  “Hmmm. And it sounded like a beast?”

  “Yeah. I think the guy was trying to keep it quiet too. He didn’t seem to be pushing too hard.”

  “Not pushing? But where’s the fun in that? Where did you see this thing anyway?”

  “Up past the Marine Activity Centre.”

  The guy nodded but it looked like the information didn’t help him. “It could have been a Waverunner. A Kawasaki model. They’re pretty solid and beefy. We don’t actually stock those. The kind of thing you need is the GRT. They’re full-on. You’d love it.”

  “Maybe I would but listen. Those Waverunners – how far can you go in one of those?”

  “It all depends o
n your comfort zone and how much fuel you’ve got. In theory you could go all over the estuary twenty times over. If you were crazy enough, you could push it out of the estuary and into the North Sea. But I wouldn’t recommend that if you want to keep safe. Bottom line, you could do a ton of sea miles on a jet ski, but anything more than an hour, especially for a beginner, is too much.”

  “An hour would suit me fine. Another question. Have these things got much storage space.”

  “Again, think motorbike. With a big bike you get a storage box and you can add panniers. With a jet ski you get a front compartment, like a small car boot. You can fit in drinks, fishing gear whatever. But not much. The bigger the jet ski, the more storage you get.”

  “How much storage?”

  “A few bags and a spare wetsuit maybe. We’re not talking your holiday luggage. It sounds to me like you’re thinking of finding one second hand?”

  Dan’s eyes lit up. “Now there’s an idea,” he said. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who has a jet ski like that? Someone capable of it in the dark? It was dark when I saw this guy.”

  “Did he have his nightlights on?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then the guy was a dumbass or likes living on the edge. I happen to know a few guys like that. They mainly come in for accessories and for a coffee from time to time.”

  “And do any of those guys have a jet ski like the one I saw?”

  “And dumb enough to ride in the dark without nightlights? Yeah. I can think of a couple. Danny Madison. He’s been in enough scrapes to prove he’s got a death wish.”

  “And the other guy?”

  “The market trader called Tommy Pink. He comes in from time to time, always looking for a discount on anything he buys. He forgets we haven’t all got low overheads like he does. Tommy’s got a Waverunner. But don’t bother making him an offer on it, he’ll never sell and never upgrade. He’s a one-car for life type of man. Rather than pay for the GTR I told you about, he just had his one painted black to match it, as if a paint job does anything.”

  Dan looked at the sleek black and blue beast of a jet ski in the centre of the shop.

  “This Tommy Pink had his painted like this?”

  The man nodded, laughing. “That’s how much of a skinflint he is. I’m telling you, he’ll never sell it. If you’re sticking with second hand, then your best bet is Danny Madison. If you buy that thing off him you’ll be doing everyone a favour...”

  “Thanks for the tip,” said Dan.

  “But do yourself a favour, forget the Waverunner. The beast you’re looking for is right here.”

  “I hear you,” said Dan. “And you never know, one of these days, I just might take you up on that...”

  Dan eyed the big black and blue jet ski one more time before he smiled and headed for the door.

  So Tommy Pink had a jet ski – a model with ample storage and the capability to travel distances. Pink had also painted his machine black and was competent at riding by night without lights. It sounded like Mr Pink had turned his jet ski into a complete black-op machine and had the skills to conduct a night time smuggling operation. Dan headed to Eva’s red Alfa with a quiet smile on his face. Eva was already behind the wheel, adjusting her seatbelt. The esplanade was rammed and the traffic had been reduced to a crawl. Dan guessed they would soon have to close the road off altogether. He opened the front passenger door and found Joanne was already there. She smiled and made no effort to move, Dan grunted in complaint, opened the back door and crunched himself into the back seat.

  “You’ll have to reverse and take the side turning or we’ll never get out of here,” he said.

  Eva looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the turning behind them. She started the engine and slipped into reverse gear.

  “What was that all about?” said Eva.

  “It’s Tommy Pink. Last night Tommy Pink was riding a jet ski, Eva. Not a boat. The guy in there even knows all about how Tommy Pink rides without lights on, told me how the man has just painted his machine black and knows Tommy Pink is experienced enough to ride the thing all over this waterfront. He’s owned that jet ski for years. Think about it. If Pink meets his drug supplier on a boat out beyond the estuary, he could ride out there, pick up whatever’s been delivered and bring it to the jetty by stealth. Apart from the noise of the engine, it’s almost perfect. Pink is the mastermind of the local Uber operation. And I bet he makes a fair bit more than he ever did by selling clothes at Basildon market. Selling Ubers could be his retirement plan.”

  “A retirement paid for with dead bodies,” said Eva. She reversed up over the corner of the kerb until the Alfa bumped back down onto the side street as she started a three-point turn. Dan looked at the rear-view mirror and saw Eva frowning in thought.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  She met his eye. “Our theory is that Pink had Norman Peters and Carl Renton killed to protect the drug import operation.”

  “Probably. Norman Peters must have posed a risk somehow. And Carl Renton was clearly onto him.”

  “But, in having them both killed Pink almost ruined his whole operation and put himself in the frame.”

  “Maybe it was worth the risk. The operation was back on last night. The only part that changed was that Pink switched from a jet ski to a boat when he got close to the jetty. To minimise the engine noise problem, I guess.”

  Eva’s eyes misted in thought as she drove away down the side street, leaving the seafront chaos behind them.

  “Pink and Grace are in this up to their necks,” said Eva.

  “Progress at last,” said Dan.

  “But we still haven’t got anything to give Aaron Clancy.”

  “Yeah. Shame about that,” said Dan. “It’s the only hiccup in this whole case.”

  “It’s a very big hiccup. That is the case. We’re not getting paid for solving murders. Only for locating Clancy’s missing treasures.”

  “I told you what I saw,” said Joanne. “That man Grace gave a rucksack to some guy at Southend Central train station.”

  “A rucksack?” said Dan, leaning forward in his seat and resting his arms over the backs of the front seats. “They were using rucksacks last night at the jetty. Black hiking rucksacks – all straps and strings.”

  Joanne nodded. “Clive Grace brought one of those into the bar and gave it to his contact.”

  “Then I don’t think you saw any gold being moved at all. What you saw was a sack full of Ubers heading out for London.”

  “Which fits with what Hogarth told us about a new Uber influx,” said Eva.

  “We just found the source of that local influx – Pink and Grace,” said Dan. “Which could be good news as far as Clancy’s case is concerned...”

  “Good news how?” said Joanne.

  “If you saw Clive Grace giving his courier a rucksack full of Ubers, then Clancy’s gold could still be here in town...”

  Eighteen

  Eva’s phone buzzed again. The odds said this call had to be from either Lauren Jaeger or Aaron Clancy. Lauren and Clancy were their current meal tickets but Eva really didn’t want to deal with either of them. She was almost relieved to see Hogarth’s name was on the screen. They had just arrived back at the office when the call came in. Eva’s head was screaming for more painkillers, a glass of water and a cup of coffee. As she took the call she struggled to find her friendly voice.

  “Inspector.”

  “Miss Roberts. Thanks for the heads-up on the market traders. We were due to interview them about Norman Peters anyway – to see if they knew what Norman had been up to. A nasty death like his was a definite message. Peters had to be involved in dealing Ubers.”

  Eva sat down at her desk and Joanne made a coffee cup gesture at her. Eva nodded and the girl went off to the kitchen. Dan signalled for one too as he tried to eavesdrop Eva’s call.

  “Peters was dealing Ubers?” said Eva. “There’s a surprise.”

  Dan grinned.

  “Did yo
u ask Tommy Pink why he was arguing with Carl Renton last Thursday?”

  “Of course I did. Though Pink says it wasn’t an argument. At least not from his perspective.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t,” said Eva. “From his perspective.”

  “Pink says he was getting ready to go out on his jet ski – turns out he’s a water sports enthusiast. I’m not surprised. All that lot are flash Harrys. When Carl Renton approached him at the marine centre Pink was almost ready to set off. Pink says Carl Renton said that he’d seen him on the water a number of times and asked him if he was aware of any criminal behaviour on the estuary. Pink readily admitted that he didn’t give Renton the time of day because, he says, Renton was a troublemaker. He told Renton he hadn’t seen a thing and would keep shtum even if he did. I reckon most other people would say the same. Apart from Carl Renton, who wants to take on a bunch of drug traffickers by himself?”

  “It might be a convincing answer, but that doesn’t make it true,” said Eva.

  “Maybe not. But then I also checked out Pink’s story. He does have a jet ski and goes out on it regularly. And it turns out there were others who thought Renton was a nuisance. The local beach café owners agreed, as did some of the council beach cleaning crew. Renton was twisting the arm of everyone he could think of, trying to enlist them as his eyes and ears for the estuary.”

  “Renton was only trying to help.”

  “And maybe he was, but he was also rubbing a lot of people up the wrong way.”

  Eva shook her head. “Carl Renton was treading on the toes of drug dealers. Inspector, do you seriously believe what Pink told you?”

  “In respect of the argument seen by that old dear Rosie Crimper, yes. Pink’s story stacks up. Rosie Crimper is one of the local tea and biscuit brigade. People like her usually think of the likes of Tommy Pink and Clive Grace as the enemy. To her they’d be working class ruffians while Carl Renton was a middle class hero with time on his hands.”