Murder on the Run

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Murder on the Run Page 27

by Bruce Beckham


  ‘Put your hand out.’

  ‘What is it?’

  But she does as he bids and Skelgill drops a pair of car keys attached to a St George’s cross fob into her palm.

  ‘You’re going to be travelling – you’ll need your own wheels.’ He grins – Jess is staring at the keys, her eyes wide and her lips parted – Skelgill winks at DS Leyton. ‘We’ll get you sorted with some lessons – just don’t let Leyton here talk you into going with him, else you’ll never pass your test.’

  ‘But – I can’t –’

  ‘Shush, lass – some things are meant to be. That was old Ernie’s car – he was as much your relative as mine – besides, what would I do with two motors?’

  Jess is clearly lost for words – and she looks like she might burst into tears. But now DS Jones places a palm on her back – she has responded quietly to a call that has come through on her silenced mobile.

  ‘That’s your Mum arrived in reception – she’s got a taxi waiting. I’ll take you downstairs.’

  *

  ‘Thing is, Guv – DI Smart was determined it was all down to that Manc gang – the Savages – that they were liquidating their own drug mules who weren’t coming up to scratch. He had no idea the Savages were fighting a turf war with that evil little git, Connor Bagman. Beats me, guv – how you managed to suss him out.’

  Skelgill is draining water thirstily from a glass. His wits are flooding back.

  ‘Truth be told, Leyton – I got a phone call from Megan Graham about five minutes before I shoved him off the cliff. She’d been holding out on me – but she finally cracked when she realised he’d gone off to harm Jess. I reckon as a punishment for her failure to get me out of his hair.’

  DS Leyton regards his boss doubtfully; from what he has learned in the past few days Skelgill had unearthed all manner of local leads that Wirecutter and DI Smart had overlooked – even if he hadn’t quite linked them together.

  ‘I reckon he’d have killed young Jess with that rockfall if you’d not stopped him, Guv.’

  ‘Leyton – she never took the Shepherd’s Rake – she wouldn’t have been under it.’

  ‘Ah – but, Guv – if you’d laid that trail – like you intended – and he’d been waiting up above.’

  Skelgill shrugs indifferently – these are hypotheticals, when there are plenty of tangibles he wants to catch up with.

  ‘Look – I suspected there were two separate strands to the case – that’s about all, Leyton. The one hunch I did get right was that someone had poisoned Jess’s dog – that’s why I got the vet to hang onto it – for safe keeping, you might say.’

  DS Leyton makes a gasp of exasperation – he is determined his superior should accept more of the credit.

  ‘Well – you were spot on with the main issue, Guv. Those Savage cousins – they were going crazy – Connor Bagman knocking off their drug mules, nicking their customers. Thing is – they knew about him – time was he worked for them back in Manchester. Did a bunk – set up his own little operation. With his contacts he knew who the county lines mules were – targeted them – got their trust – poisoned them with fentanyl – we found a stash under the floor in his room at Megan Graham’s gaff – and it was his prints on the syringe that nearly killed young Anna. We also found a load of other gear, mobile phones, notebooks and whatnot. Megan Graham had no idea, Guv – he was using her for what he could take – safe house, ready supply of cash – and you can imagine what else. Plus he was screwing her for information on what we were up to. Like you say, Guv, he was obviously narked that you were getting a bit too close for comfort – even though you were only helping out young Jess. Megan Graham was in hock to him for drugs – terrified of him – terrified he’d do something to Jess. And she was right to be. Meanwhile – as fast as the Savages were setting up a network, he was dismantling it. He was getting his own supply direct from some other Manchester kingpin – and he was using Gordon Bennett the biker drowned in Crummock Water as his runner. That was the Savages who did for Bennett – the car he was drowned in, they more-or-less nicked from your cousin’s dealership. They wanted some inconspicuous wheels with a local plate that they could use to track down Connor Bagman. Strong-armed your cousin Marty – seems like they’ve had him on toast for a while – he’s been forced to supply them with motors at knockdown prices.’

  Skelgill is nodding slowly. He is reminded of Marty’s desire to get his hands on old Ernie’s car – it would have fitted the Savages’ bill exactly.

  ‘What about his assistant – the woman, Trish?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, Guv – now there’s a story. In the aftermath of looking for you we found a set of keys on Connor Bagman – and there was the car – a silver hatchback parked at Gatesgarth. He’d sourced it from your cousin Marty’s place, too – except good old Marty didn’t know anything about it. The lovely Trish has been double-dealing – she handled it and agreed to put it through in the name of Megan Graham – so there was no admin to connect it to Bagman. If you ask me, Trish has got a bit of a drugs problem, Guv.’ DS Leyton wipes an index finger across his septum and flashes Skelgill a knowing look. ‘That would explain a lot. She’s not admitted it, yet – but it looks like she took a sizeable commission out of the sale – and we reckon she’s done more than a dozen deals like that. Turns out she was sacked from her last place for the same kind of thing, though they couldn’t prove anything. Reckon your poor old cousin Marty’s been fleeced left, right and centre. Maybe when you’ve got your feet back under the desk you can have a go at getting Trish to come clean, Guv?’

  Skelgill suspects this might be one interview he will pass on – but he has a lot to process – not least that Trish has turned out to be a wrong ’un, as his sergeant might put it, and that she may have been leaking information to Connor Bagman – for instance when Skelgill was taking Jess up to find the Shepherd’s Rake; and if all along she knew he was a detective, she would have guessed what he was trying to find out. He is glad he kept his cards as close to his chest as possible; and any lingering feelings of guilt about liberties he may have taken are assuaged. And he feels relief, too, in that flesh and blood, albeit distant, seems to be coming out on the side of the law. Megan Graham came good at the eleventh hour, Mouse excelled himself in marshalling his alliance for the cause of law and order, and Marty Graham seems much more of a victim than any of his unsuspecting customers have ever been. The thought of Marty’s Motor Mart prompts his next question.

  ‘What about the Mercedes? I don’t reckon Trish knew about that.’

  DS Leyton looks like he agrees.

  ‘Connor Bagman was using it as a second car – I suppose when he wanted to travel incognito – like when he followed the Savages’ BMW to Salterbeck. He’d scammed it off the elderly lady owner – turns out she’s a distant relative of the old fellow Booth, occasionally visited him – rarely used the motor. Bagman had told her it had something wrong with it and he’d fix it up – he was keeping it hidden in the garage behind Mr Booth’s address in Hempstead Avenue. And we found the missing moped in there. The chain of events there is that the drug mule kid who nearly died really is some kind of nephew of the old fellow. That’s how he came to be there in the first place. Connor Bagman got his hooks into the kid – and so came into contact with Mr Booth – and in turn the old lady with the Merc. Thankfully no harm had come to her – she’d gone to stay for a month at her sister’s place, down in Bournemouth.’

  Skelgill makes a rueful clicking sound with his tongue – he ought to have investigated that garage – it might have cut some corners. He might not be lying here!

  But now there is a knock and the door opens. DS Jones is back from reuniting Jess with her mother. She barges in bearing a tray and the aroma of fried bacon permeates the antiseptic air. Skelgill’s nostrils twitch involuntarily, and his stomach rumbles in anticipation of his first solid food in almost a week.

  ‘I had to go to the visitors’ café – it’s too early for them to bring round t
he hospital lunches.’

  She hands DS Leyton a mug and puts one aside for herself – Skelgill’s eyes are on stalks. And then she places the tray on Skelgill’s lap – a mug, and all three bacon rolls.

  ‘We stopped for breakfast on the way over, Guv.’

  Skelgill demolishes the first roll as if he has been holed up in the hills for a month. Then he pauses for breath, and indicates to the laptop, which is still on the bed beside him.

  ‘DS Eve – I saw her on that tape.’

  ‘She’s gone back down to Manchester, Guv – she’s promised to phone as soon as we let her know you’re okay. No point her hanging around, since Bagman’s dead and the Savages are bang to rights. She said to congratulate you for nicking the lot of them single handed – and to remind you she told you there was no end to your talents!’

  DS Leyton ends his explanation with a chuckle, as though he is amused that a fellow officer would shower such lavish praise upon Skelgill – but Skelgill glances a little self-consciously at DS Jones, and then makes a rather pained face, as if to dismiss the matter. However, there is an aspect that plainly needles him.

  ‘Who was the blonde she was with?’

  ‘That’s her partner, Guv.’

  ‘What – from her team in Manchester?’

  DS Leyton looks a touch uneasily at his boss.

  ‘She’s not in the police, Guv – she’s her actual partner, you know – civil partner?’

  ‘What – they live together?’

  DS Leyton turns optimistically to DS Jones – but she shrugs.

  ‘Dunno, Guv – I suppose so – they’re as good as married, aren’t they? The other lady had come up for the weekend. Seems they’re both into motorcycles.’

  Skelgill decides to park any thoughts about this revelation until a later date. His reference to the video has reminded him of the most cavernous gap in his knowledge – prompted by DS Leyton’s words of regret about his missing the nail-biting climax of the race.

  ‘How did you find me – us?’

  ‘It was two of your brothers, Guv – Gareth and John, right?’ (Skelgill nods.) ‘When we realised you were missing – Jess explained about that shortcut – they seemed to know where to find you – that you had a little hidey-hole up there – on a ledge. And they knew the quickest way. They carried you down, Guv.’

  Once again Skelgill feels a lump forming in his throat. Their local knowledge might have saved vital minutes. Then again, he is slightly peeved that after all these years they have admitted to knowing about his supposedly ‘secret’ spot. Evidently there is nothing new under the sun. Never mind – the rock shelf had saved his life – that and the drug dealer who cushioned his fall. And DS Leyton continues on this theme.

  ‘We thought you were a goner, Guv – lying still as a corpse in a great pool of blood – until we realised you were on top of that geezer. ’Orrible sight it were when we pulled you off – his head all smashed open. You were lucky, Guv – just the gunshot impact and a whack on the bonce. Mind you – this last few days, we’ve been worried you’d got brain damage.’

  ‘Leyton – me brothers knocked that into us – didn’t they tell you that?’

  DS Leyton grins.

  ‘And – you missed the World Cup, Guv.’ But now DS Leyton sighs. ‘We lost to Germany on penalties. Still – Jamie Nobble won the Golden Boot. Maybe next time, eh?’

  Skelgill grimaces as though he does not share his sergeant’s optimism. And somehow the accomplishment of the national side does not seem to hold any great interest for him at this juncture. DS Leyton checks his watch and rises as if he needs to leave.

  ‘I’ve arranged to observe an interview with the younger of the Savages, Guv. He’s singing like a canary. We’ve got nailed-on forensics – and he’s fingering his cousin as the killer, for a lesser rap of accessory – so much for honour amongst thieves.’ He grins at DS Jones, who nods comprehendingly. ‘Obviously it has to be me – being as I’m too old to have passed as a potential drug dealer.’

  He refers to DS Jones’s undercover role, which precludes her involvement, other than as a witness. He makes further apologies, and entreats his boss to take it easy, and he leaves – it must be said – in a considerably more chipper mood than when he arrived in the private room an hour earlier. Skelgill is left alone with DS Jones. She slides into the seat vacated by her colleague.

  ‘And you thought I was taking a risk, Guv.’

  ‘You were – they were armed, too.’

  ‘Except I’m certain they didn’t know my true identity. It was just bad luck that I ended up in the firing line. Up until then they’d been really nice to me.’

  ‘Aye – except that’s how it starts out – you know that, Jones.’

  She nods a little reluctantly. After a moment she resumes her point.

  ‘Did you know he’d be up there with a gun?’

  Skelgill shrugs.

  ‘It’s always a possibility.’ Now he gives an ironic laugh. ‘Happen I owe the bloke I bought the jacket from a pint.’

  ‘You can’t have made many better investments, Guv.’

  But Skelgill responds with a gasp of dismay.

  ‘Don’t mention investments – the only good reason for being in here is my bank manager can’t get at me.’ He grins wryly. ‘Nor the Chief, come to that.’

  A short silence ensues. DS Jones smiles patiently; it is a look of diffidence – and it reminds Skelgill that she has shed the undercover persona – here again is the smooth tanned skin and even features, her naturally streaked blonde hair brushed and glossy, her manner quietly alluring.

  ‘And reasons for getting out?’

  Her tone is teasing. Skelgill’s expression is correspondingly bashful.

  ‘Aye – well – there’s something –’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Find that missing running shoe of Jess’s.’

  DS Jones laughs. But she regards him with affected reproach.

  ‘When are you thinking of doing that, Guv?’

  ‘Just as soon as you can disconnect all these tubes.’ He alters position and exclaims as some pain afflicts him. ‘I’ll need your help. I’ll buy you a pint after – takeaway – you name it – anything I can put on a credit card.’

  ‘I feel as though we’re talking needles and haystacks, Guv.’

  ‘We’re certainly talking Haystacks.’

  ***

  Next in the series

  ‘Murder on the Midnight Express’ is scheduled for publication in July 2019. In the meantime, books 1-11 in the Inspector Skelgill series can be found on Amazon. Each comprises a stand-alone mystery, and may be read out of sequence. All DI Skelgill books can be borrowed free with Kindle Unlimited, and also by Amazon Prime members on a Kindle device.

 

 

 


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