Between Two Thieves

by Solomon Carter

  “I mean it,” said Pink. “I didn’t kill Norman Peters.”

  “Save it for the station,” said Hogarth. “I know an old-fashioned barrow boy like you loves the sound of your own voice, but Basildon doesn’t need to hear it.”

  “Jordan,” said Hogarth. He gave the young officer a nod, and the man started towards Pink. Pink slunk towards the back wall.

  “No, you’ve got to hear me out. Grace would sell out anyone to stay out of trouble. If I’d known that I’d have never worked with the man.”

  “You know what they say, Tommy,” said Hogarth. “Birds of a feather flock together.”

  Pink held up a palm to keep the PC at bay.

  “Listen!” said Pink.

  “We hear what you’re saying, Mr Pink,” said Eva. “We hear what you’re not saying too. You didn’t mention Carl Renton. And for you, Renton’s death remains a big problem if you haven’t got anyone else to blame.”

  Hogarth’s eyes narrowed. PC Jordan held back. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for Pink to speak.

  Pink was quiet and solemn. Eva watched Hogarth as he studied the crook in detail, right down to the way Pink scratched his temple.

  “I’m not guilty,” said Pink, quietly.

  “Of what?” snapped Hogarth. “Of killing Peters? Or of killing Carl Renton?”

  “Those murders, either of them,” said Pink. “I’m not guilty on all counts.

  “So you say,” said Dan.

  “No!” roared Pink. He turned to Dan, shaking with anger and indignation. “No matter what Grace told you... I didn’t do it.”

  Hogarth looked at Dan.

  “Simple as that,” said Pink. “I’m no killer. I didn’t kill Renton, but it still didn’t make any sense him shouting at me about Ubers when he’s indulging addicts in his houses and giving money to other kids to help them get high.”

  “What?” said Hogarth, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Yeah, see. You didn’t know. The gossip I heard was that Carl Renton was indulging some rich kids, letting them take Ubers. He was a hypocrite, like the rest of them.”

  Eva and Dan shared a look. They were thinking the same thing.

  “That rumour, Tommy. Where did you hear it?” said Eva.

  “I don’t know. It’s common knowledge, ain’t it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Eva. “Where did you hear it?”

  Pink shrugged.

  “He made it up,” said Hogarth. “Like he’s been making a lot of things up, eh, Tommy?”

  “No... Norm told me about that. I thought everyone knew.”

  Eva’s eyes lingered on Pink. She watched his eyes glaze over in regret and resignation.

  PC Jordan started to make his approach towards Pink once more.

  “You say Clive Grace killed Norman Peters...” said Eva.

  “You heard him. You’ve got it on that recording.”

  “But neither of you mentioned Carl Renton. His murder is hanging over your head, Tommy. You’d better think about that.”

  “No, I told you that I didn’t kill the man. Think about it. If Clive was capable of killing poor little Norm then he must have killed Renton too. His head was battered like Norm’s was. Only difference was it looked like someone had taken a pickaxe to his guts. If I ever had to kill a man, I certainly wouldn’t ever do it like that.”

  Jordan’s eyes flicked to Hogarth for the order. Hogarth gave the slightest shake of his head, barely perceptible. They were hearing something important. Something which might make a conviction stick. “How do you know so much about Carl Renton’s body, Tommy?” said Hogarth.

  “If I tell you, I’m screwed, aren’t I?” Pink looked at Hogarth, and then Eva and Dan.

  “If you don’t tell us, you’re still screwed,” said Hogarth. “We’ll still have you for drug trafficking and probably murder too. Unless that is, you tell us otherwise.”

  Pink knitted his eyes together before he started to speak. The words came out with a stammer at first, but they soon picked up momentum.

  “It was only a few days back. Friday morning. Normski was still alive and well. After a shipment comes in, we haul it in, bring it into the jetty, and then each go our separate ways. Fast. It has to be like clockwork so we never got seen. It was always pitch black, and I was well aware that Norman was a liability sometimes. He was a clutz and he was forgetful. So most mornings after a drop-off I’d go back and check over at the marine centre for five minutes, just to see if any tell-tale signs had been left behind.”

  “You went to check that you’d left no evidence,” said Hogarth.

  “If you like,” said Pink, with a shrug. “That morning Norm was there and Clive was there too, which was very handy. It was so early that the street cleaners hadn’t made it down yet. And that’s when we saw the body. Right there...” Pink paused and took a breath. “We didn’t kill Renton. All we did was find him. I just about kept myself from throwing up. I knew it was Carl Renton from the way he always dressed. Checked shirts tucked over his big belly into a pair of old-school straight blue jeans. And soon as I saw him I knew we were in real trouble. If the old bill got scent of that man being killed right by our landing spot – I knew it would bring the heat, they’d shut down the jetty, and probably our operation too. But I never killed the man. Why should we have gone down for that?!”

  “The blood patch on the beach?” said Dan.

  “Yeah. There was plenty of blood on the beach. We couldn’t cover all of it, but we did our best and hoped the rain would wash the rest away. Then I went to get some ropes from my van. I gave the boys the ropes and told them to tie up the body while I checked the jetty for any other problems. By the time I got back, the body was tied good and proper. Norm tied a couple of broken bits of concrete to his waist, and I dragged him out to the water on my jet ski as far as I dare. I let him sink. I didn’t do it. All I did was try to clean up what some other psycho left behind.”

  “What a noble man you are, Tommy,” said Hogarth. “Remind me to nominate you for a CBE in the New Year’s Honours list. Jordan.”

  PC Jordan stepped in and took Pink’s arm. This time he didn’t fight or seek more time. He let Jordan cuff him without complaint.

  PC Jordan led Tommy Pink away to one of the police cars at the edge of The Target pub.

  “Who did it then, Tommy?” called Dan. “Who killed Carl Renton? And what happened to the murder weapon?”

  “Grace must have done it. As for the weapon, I’ve no idea. Ask him.”

  They opened the door and started to stuff Pink in right alongside Clive Grace.

  Eva had more questions. They were taking the man away too soon for her liking.

  Hogarth watched Eva as she headed past him towards the police estate car. “He killed Renton too,” muttered Hogarth. “He’s blaming Grace, but without a murder weapon or a witness, they can blame each other until the cows come home...”

  Hogarth had a point, but Eva had another question in mind.

  “And what about the gold, Mr Pink. What about the missing gold?”

  The man’s eyes stayed neutral. In the shadows of the car Clive Grace remained silent.

  “What?”

  “Stolen gold was found near the marine centre where you were smuggling. It can’t be a coincidence. What do you know about it?”

  Jordan pushed Pink down into the backseat. He used up his last moment of freedom with a protest of defence.

  “I’m just a humble market trader,” said Pink.

  “And a drug trafficker,” said Hogarth. “Don’t forget that too.”

  “But that gold had nothing to do with me. Never did.”

  Hogarth moved to the car and shut the car door to end the alfresco interrogation.

  “Are we done, Miss Roberts?” said Hogarth. “Or would you like me to pass notes through the car window?”

  “No. I think we’re done,” said Eva. “Though I have got one more question you might want to ask them.”

  Hogart
h sighed.

  “Pink and Grace conducted another smuggling operation last night, right under the nose of your PCs at the marine centre,” said Eva.

  Hogarth’s eyes turned fiery. “What?”

  “Someone who looked a lot like Clive Grace was sent to cause a distraction on the beach to keep your officers busy while the drop-off was made. You might want to ask them about him.”

  Dan nodded. “I think he could be a guy from one of Renton’s rehab houses.”

  “Probably the same guy who gave The Record the story about Carl going missing in the first place,” said Eva.

  “I’ll add that to my to-do list, shall I?” said Hogarth.

  “It might prove worth it,” said Eva.

  “Your little recording,” said Hogarth.

  “I’ll email you a copy within the hour,” said Eva.

  Hogarth nodded. The fire in his eyes dulled a little and as he headed back to his car, something in Hogarth’s manner transmitted more than a hint of gratitude, but Dan wasn’t subtle enough to pick up on it.

  “Stay out of trouble, if you can that is,” said Hogarth as he opened his car door. “You’d better get hunting for lost gold.”

  Hogarth shot one last nod and near-smile Eva’s way before he turned and climbed into his car.

  “He’s right. We still haven’t got a clue where that gold has gone,” said Dan. The cops started their engines and reversed out onto the street and turned back for Southend.

  “Yes. I know we’ve been a little distracted by the small detail of two murders, but even so we should have found something by now.”

  “You’d think so. But none of those men were thieves. Drug dealers and killers, but not thieves.”

  “Not quite, Dan. Norman Peters was a thief. He must have been. He took that silver snuff case from a dead man’s pocket – that was his opportunity. If we believe Tommy Pink about discovering Carl Renton’s body then that’s the only way he could have gotten it.”

  “Unless Peters and Grace killed him and pretended they didn’t for Pink’s benefit. He could have taken it then.”

  Eva shook her head. “No. If that was true then why didn’t they dispose of the body earlier?”

  “If they didn’t do it why dispose of the body at all?”

  “Pink told us that. That body was going to destroy their business, and he would have been in the frame. He’d been seen arguing with the man and he knew it. They had no good reason to leave their murder victim lying on the beach. Pink was telling the truth.”

  “Which leaves us where? Our only thief is dead. We haven’t found Clancy’s gold. And if we believe Pink’s story there’s still a killer on the loose, and no evidence to find the culprit.”

  Eva looked up at the sky for relief from the oppressive concrete yard.

  “Norman Peters isn’t our only thief, Dan.”

  Dan’s brow dipped over his dark eyes.

  “Joe Clancy? But he only ever stole to feed his addiction and his dealer is dead and gone. Georgie already accounted for the stolen items he used as payment. It was mostly home equipment.”

  “But not all of it. And we only know about the stuff Joe was willing to tell her about.”

  “We’ve been through this. The burglary. That happened when Georgie and Joe were busy upstairs.”

  “Again, we only know Joe’s version. Georgie’s version of events is a grey area, Dan.”

  “No. Joe can’t have stolen all that stuff himself. Giving that much gold to a two-bit drug dealer for some Ubers would have been complete overkill. It doesn’t make sense. It’d be like paying a million for a fifteen-year-old Ford Fiesta. Joe Clancy is a teenage junkie, but he isn’t that stupid.”

  “We just have to look again. We’re not seeing the whole picture when it comes to Joe Clancy.”

  “More importantly, we’re not seeing who killed Carl Renton.”

  “Then we’re coming full circle,” said Eva. “But at least the circle is closing.”

  “But I’d still like this circle to pay,” said Dan.

  “I’m still working on that,” said Eva.

  Twenty-three

  Elsewhere. The same day.

  Something was going on with her. Jamie Blane couldn’t tell what it was, not yet, but whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t good. None of her secrets were ever good. He had realised something was wrong when she had started smiling again. Smiling. Lauren hadn’t smiled at him in that old way for weeks. Months even. But there it was again, that luscious bright smile. The one that used to make him pinch himself. After the agony of losing his wife, Jamie had doubted he would ever be happy again. The job had never ever been enough. But then Lauren turned up in his life, in his office, bringing in cash, bringing in light, and eventually passion. It felt like he’d stumbled into loving her. And not too long after the tragedy, she’d moved in. He wanted her to move in. Needed her to. The number one asset in his South East recruitment office had become the number one all-rounder in his whole life. And for a while it seemed like life wasn’t just about work and grief anymore. There was love again and warm nights. But that sweet phase didn’t last long.

  Jamie couldn’t begin to identify exactly when it started to fall apart... but there were two things he knew well. One, he had gotten together with Lauren far too soon. Lust had hoodwinked him too early for him to deal with his grief. And two, Lauren really wasn’t the delight he thought she was. No one could be angelic forever. The hard facts of life and routine eventually stripped all illusions away until a lover saw the other person as they really were. Sometimes a man would still love that person all the more. And sometimes, he would only see the absence of what he had thought they were, left with something else in its place.

  She was talking to him. She was talking to him but Jamie wasn’t listening because he knew it was all lies. But he forced himself to tune in to her words, so he could go through the motions at least as much as she had. She smiled at him again.

  “I think I’ll go and get a shower. If you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind?” he said.

  A shower, in the day time, after spending time out for lunch. There was wine on her breath. She’d been out for three hours. Plenty of time to jump into bed and do whatever it was she liked these days.

  Jamie Blane knew she also wanted that shower to avoid spending time in his presence. The feeling was mutual, but he didn’t like it anyway. She wanted secrets and she wanted control? It wasn’t going to happen like that. Blane looked out of their penthouse apartment bedroom window, down at the park below, at the dots walking their dogs, and the hazy blue summer sky. He sipped on a cold bottle of beer and listened to the sound of his lover humming as she slipped out of her clothes, as she switched on the shower and started the hiss of hot rushing water. Her idle humming brought a surge of anger. That damn smile, he thought. Those eyes. “What is it this time?” he muttered. He sipped again before slamming his beer on the table. His temples were tight and his head ached. The office was doing well enough without her. The business was rolling in. Life wasn’t perfect. It never was. But none of his problems were insurmountable. In fact Jamie had no real problems apart from the one he was living with. His eyes flicked from the window. He found her mobile phone on the side table beside where she’d dumped her handbag. He licked his lips and then, listening to the running water, made his move. He snatched up her handbag first. He popped the clasp and peered inside, into a tiny world of screwed-up tissues, lipsticks, eyeliners, a purse, a mess of keys, chewing gum and other junk. He noted there were no condoms. Maybe they had got past safe sex already, damn them. But there were no scribbled notes of phone numbers or men’s names. But then she knew better than that, didn’t she? Blane hissed and dumped the bag on the table. The water was still running in the bathroom but the humming had stopped. Blane paid no attention either way. He picked up Lauren’s mobile, and wondered if the tricky bitch had changed her pin-code yet again. He dialled the last one he remembered and was surprised to find that it stil
l worked. The home screen opened on all the usual icons. Messages, emails, web browser, WhatsApp. The whole damn library of a modern person’s life. It was almost too much for him to bear, but he decided to check it anyway. Lauren didn’t give him any choice, did she? WhatsApp was empty but for the boring work groups he was already a part of – chasing the office boys and girls to ever higher numbers, motivating them and spying on them for the good of all concerned. He scrolled down and found nothing more. The water kept running next door. Facebook. No joy there. She knew he had her under watch and had taken measures accordingly. She kept it clean and safe and boring and fake. He didn’t even bother with it. He tried the emails, but they were all work and no play. Lauren and her fake smile. It seemed she was getting very good at this stuff...

  But there were always the messages. The phone calls too. He bit his lip with the thrill of the hunt. If he had been listening carefully, he would have heard the change of movement in the bathroom. He would have heard the feet on tiles. The water running, but the water not landing on anyone in the shower, just splashing the tiles like heavy rain. But Jamie was caught up in his own game of hide and seek. Lauren was hiding and he was seeking, and he couldn’t wait to find her.

  The phone calls.

  “What?” he said, out loud. He found no less than seven calls to a number with no name assigned to it. Seven calls in a three-day period. And a few of those calls had been returned. He dug a little deeper into the detail. Some of the calls had lasted less than a minute. A couple much longer. His eyes narrowed and he wondered. Calls like that, quick calls, drop calls, calls to arrange meetings, calls to escape detection. Blane ground his teeth and swiped the phone and tapped the messages app. There. He found the very same number had been used for messaging, but he saw no messages. Instead he found a column of blank messages. Which didn’t make sense at first, until he realised what it meant. Lauren had deleted the messages. Every single sordid one.

  “Bitch...” he whispered.