by Sally Rigby
‘Not that I remember.’
‘Do you know all the people who visit the club?’
‘I’ve been here for years, since before Ryan and Scott bought the place, and know most of our members. I work three days a week and a couple of evenings. This week it will be different as we’ve got the players and their friends and families here. I don’t know all of them.’
George glanced over to see the manager in the far corner of the lounge talking intently with someone.
‘Who’s Glen Tibbs talking to?’ she asked.
He squinted and peered over to where they were standing. ‘I’m not sure who he is. I don’t think he’s a member. But I could be wrong.’
The way their bodies were hunched over was suspicious. She’d follow up with Whitney once they’d finished with Joe.
‘How well did you know Ryan?’ Whitney asked.
‘He was here a lot and wasn’t stuck up even though he was famous. He was a good guy and spoke to everybody. Always had time for a chat. Everyone liked him.’
‘Can you think of any reason why someone would want to harm him?’
‘No. I never heard a bad word against him. That was why it was such a shock.’ He glanced from side to side, before moving in a little closer. ‘You know, if it was going to be either one of the two owners who was shot, my money would have been on it being Scott.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘He’s not as well liked as Ryan and always seems to be doing deals on the side. Take the beer. We have an exclusive contract with the brewery, but he’ll often bring in drink he’s picked up for us to sell. That sort of thing. But you didn’t hear that from me. I can’t risk losing my job. I—’
‘Excuse me?’ called a voice from the end of the bar.
George glanced over and saw it was Clifford. She gave a tiny nod in Whitney’s direction as she had her back to him.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Joe said.
‘It’s Clifford,’ she said quietly. ‘He’s speaking to Joe, but I can’t work out what about. Now he’s walked away and is heading towards Tibbs.’
They stepped away from the bar and stood so they could both see Clifford. They watched as he interrupted the manager and took him to one side. After a few moments, Clifford reached into his pocket and passed something over to him. He then left and went downstairs towards the snooker room.
‘Was Clifford giving Tibbs money?’ Whitney asked.
‘It looked like it. Was he placing a bet? We’ll find out when we see him. Tibbs has been acting in a suspicious manner. I observed him with the man he was talking to before Clifford interrupted and whatever it was they were discussing, they didn’t want to be overheard.’
Whitney looked at her watch. ‘I’ll give Tibbs five more minutes and, if he’s not here, we’ll go and find him.’
‘No need,’ George said, spotting him heading in their direction. ‘He’s coming over now.’
‘I’m free for a quick chat, but not for too long,’ Tibbs said as he reached them. ‘We’ll have to do it in here so I can keep an eye on everything. We can sit over there.’ He nodded to an empty table close to the door.
‘Not ideal, but it will have to do. We saw you engrossed in a conversation at the end of the lounge area. What was that about?’ Whitney asked once they were all seated.
‘A media person, wanting to know about the tournament and trying to get information about Ryan. Bloody bottom feeders.’ He rubbed his nose and averted his eyes.
George didn’t believe him for one moment, but now wasn’t the time to challenge him.
Whitney cast a glance in her direction and arched an eyebrow.
‘And then you were talking to that big man. What did he want?’
‘He wanted to know more about the tournament and when the matches were on. He’s come from out of town to watch.’
‘Does he have to join the club to come in every day?’
‘It’s different during the tournament. We allow people who aren’t members to watch, but we do keep an eye on them and we’ve got our security cameras.’
‘Can these people play snooker if they want?’
‘No. Six of our tables are being used for the tournament and the other six are for members use only.’
‘Tell us more about the tournament,’ Whitney said.
‘The first matches won’t be televised, but the ones later in the week will, and that’s when the whole place will be buzzing. You think it’s busy now, but this is nothing when compared with how it will get later in the week. It’s when the top players will be playing each other.’
‘Is Scott Marshall in the tournament?’
‘He withdrew once he’d qualified for the worlds.’
Whitney frowned. ‘But I keep hearing he’s not that good.’
‘You’ve got that wrong. He’s a very good player, just not in Ryan’s league. Thirty-two players take part in the world championships chosen from qualifying events around the country and world ranking. Over the last ten years, Scott has qualified five times. Ryan was automatically allowed to participate because of his ranking.’
‘Are you expecting Scott here today?’
‘He said he’d be here later. He should be around all week as it’s our tournament.’
‘How does he get on with members and staff? Is he as popular as Ryan was?’
‘He’s more difficult to deal with,’ Tibbs admitted.
‘Did you ever notice any animosity between him and Ryan?’
‘Not really. They were partners and best friends. Scott took the lead in their friendship, but that didn’t seem to bother Ryan.’
‘Was Scott jealous of Ryan’s popularity?’
‘Well …’ He paused and drew in a breath. ‘He envied Ryan’s talent and made no bones about it. If you speak to him, though, he’ll tell you how many times he’s beaten Ryan in the past. But never when it counts. I wouldn’t have put it past Ryan to let him win sometimes. Whether Ryan’s popularity with others was an issue for Scott, I can’t say.’
‘Has Scott discussed your position here and what’s going to happen to the club now Ryan’s no longer here?’
‘Why? Has he said something to you? Am I going to lose my job?’
‘We can’t answer that. I suggest you take it up with him.’
‘Glen?’ Joe called out from behind the bar.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go,’ he said, standing and acknowledging his staff member with a wave of his hand.
‘Okay. But we’ll be back.’
Chapter 21
Whitney was standing by the board with George when Clifford marched in. She sucked in a breath, still in awe of his sheer size and commanding presence. They’d been back at the station for two hours, so what had he been doing at the snooker club for all that time?
‘What can you tell us?’ she asked when he reached them.
‘Glen Tibbs is engaged in illegal betting. I stayed for a while, watched some of the matches, and kept an eye out. I was able to place a bet with him, without any questions being asked, and witnessed several others doing the same.’
‘Yes, we saw that, too. If it was that easy for you to do, does that mean it’s out in the open for anyone at the club to take part?’
‘Yes and no. It’s all done on the QT. If people approach Tibbs, then he’ll oblige. I only placed a small bet, not wanting to stand out.’
‘I’ll ask Frank to check the CCTV footage from the club and see whether it’s a regular occurrence. If there’s nothing on the tapes, we can assume he’s just doing it for this tournament.’ She went over to the officer's desk. ‘Frank, go through the snooker club footage concentrating on the manager, Glen Tibbs. He’s taking illegal bets for this tournament and we want to know if this is something he does on a regular basis.’
‘Yes, guv,’ Frank said.
‘Make it top priority.’
She headed back to Clifford and George.
‘Do you believe Tibbs is linked to the syndicate you’re inv
estigating?’ George asked.
‘It’s unclear at the moment, until we look at footage from this tournament, analyse games and look for indicators as to when a game is being thrown.’
‘You can tell?’
‘There are nuances in people’s behaviour, their facial expressions and body language, which give an indication of the exact time there’s an intentional mistake.’
‘Fascinating,’ George said. ‘I’d be interested in learning more. It’s not an area I’ve researched before.’
‘When I’m back at the Met, I’ll send over some training videos for you to look at.’
‘I’d appreciate that very much. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. If Tibbs knows that some people have been paid to throw a match, he could be cashing in on the side. It’s not likely a lot of money will change hands as I imagine he only takes small bets. The big money will be placed at the bookies. There could be one of two things going on at the club. Either Tibbs is in cahoots with the syndicate, maybe keeping an eye out and making sure players do what they’re supposed to, and also double-dipping by taking money on the side. Or, it’s simply him taking bets with no link to the syndicate at all. We’ll need to bring him in for questioning.’
‘What are your plans for finding out whether he’s connected to the syndicate and how this links back to Armstrong’s shooting?’ Whitney asked.
This would be make or break. If a connection was established, they would lose the case. No question. She might not have a say in that happening, but she’d need cast-iron assurances and proof of the link if there was one, before she’d give up.
‘I’ll contact my officers at the Met and ask them to check for any connections between Tibbs and the syndicate. Questioning him will also assist.’
‘You think he’ll tell you?’
Surely, he couldn’t be so naïve.
‘That’s what we’ll find out.’
‘By the way, how’s your dog?’ Whitney said.
‘She’s a lot better today, thanks for asking.’
‘So you—’ The door to the incident room opened and Whitney tensed. ‘What the …’ she muttered through gritted teeth, as Douglas walked in and made a beeline for them.
‘Sir,’ she said.
‘Clifford, how are you?’ Douglas’s voice boomed out as he slapped the officer on the back. ‘I heard you were here and came to say hello. I’m sure your expertise will expedite the solving of this case. We can’t drag our feet. Not with the media breathing down our necks at all hours of the day.’
‘I’m well, thank you, sir. We’re making good progress.’
‘Excellent, that’s what I wanted to hear. Pop into my office before you return to London and we’ll go out for a drink to catch up. I’d like to hear how the old gang are doing.’
Old gang? The man was a superintendent, not some DC.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right. I’ll leave you to it.’ Douglas turned and marched out, his arms swinging by his side.
‘Wanker,’ Whitney muttered louder than she’d intended.
‘I take it you’re not a fan,’ Clifford said, arching an eyebrow.
Should she tell him the truth? If they were such good mates would he blab to Douglas? Did she care? It wasn’t like he didn’t already know her views on him.
‘Is anyone?’
‘The promotion boards, judging by his progress in the force.’ He grinned, accentuating the laughter lines around his eyes.
‘I’ve known him for over twenty years, since he was a sergeant here at Lenchester.’ She shook her head. ‘Enough said. Anyway, this isn’t the time or place to swap stories about him. After the case is solved and over a few drinks, maybe I’ll open up a bit more.’
‘That works for me,’ Clifford said. ‘Back to Tibbs, we need to know more about his financial situation.’
‘Ellie,’ Whitney called out. ‘Stop what you’re doing and look into the finances of Glen Tibbs, the manager of the snooker club. In particular, check if there have been large amounts of money going into his bank account on a regular basis.’
‘Yes, guv.’
‘I’ll ask uniform to bring him in, so we can question him properly.’
‘I don’t wish to usurp your authority, but that’s not a good idea with the tournament on. It would be better if we didn’t create a fuss.’
‘Usurp my authority? Seriously, who speaks like that?’ she said before she could stop herself. She glanced at George who was frowning in her direction. ‘No offence meant.’
‘None taken,’ Clifford said.
‘Although you did make a good point. We need to get him out of there without creating a fuss.’
‘The afternoon matches don’t begin until two, so it might be easier if we do it now while they’re having lunch. We have no idea whether there are members of the syndicate there, so we need to be discreet. Although they’d expect him to be questioned regarding Armstrong’s murder. In fact, it would look odd if he wasn’t. But it’s best to be as unobtrusive as possible.’
‘George and I are known there, so you go and take DS Chapman. No one will suspect you’re police, and that will make it easier.’ Whitney faced her sergeant. ‘Brian, go with DI Clifford to pick up Glen Tibbs.’
‘Yes, guv.’ He went to the coat stand and grabbed his jacket off the hanger.
‘Forget the jacket, it’s too smart for the snooker club,’ Clifford said. ‘Also, dispense with the tie and we’ll go in casually, as if we’re customers wanting to watch the matches.’
Whitney smiled to herself. Brian’s work clothes were a throwback from his time at the Met. Interesting that Clifford didn’t look so expensively dressed, doubly so because of who he was. Unless he’d deliberately dressed down and kept his good stuff for his aristocratic friends.
‘Doug, have you gone through the stalker’s notes and manuscript yet?’ she asked after Clifford and Brian had left.
‘Yes, guv. Nothing there for us to use. It was literally hundreds of pages of idolising nonsense. I never knew there were so many ways to declare your undying love for someone.’
‘It was worth a shot.’
‘Guv,’ Frank called out. ‘Take a look at this. Tibbs takes bets on a regular basis by the looks of things. There are many instances when money changes hands.’ She strode over and stared at the footage on the screen.
‘Keep it for DI Clifford to have a look at when he gets back. Can you work out whether there’s any pattern to his behaviour? Does he just take bets during matches? Is it possible to tell?’
‘It happens all the time, even when there’s no one playing. There’s one incident here when a crowd of people are watching a horse race on the telly and he’s openly taking money from them.’
‘Okay, it’s clear there’s illegal gambling going on, but what we don’t know is if it’s connected to Clifford’s investigation. I’m no expert, but it doesn’t look like it is. And you know what that means. That the case will remain ours, and he will return to the Met. Any joy on Tibbs’s finances yet, Ellie?’
‘I’m in his bank account now. There are regular amounts of money going in and out, as you’d expect, but nothing out of the ordinary.’
‘Any payments from overseas?’
‘No.’
‘Further evidence that the betting is done independently but, again, it’s not our area of expertise, so we’ll have to wait for Clifford to come back.’ She turned to George. ‘Let’s grab a coffee while we’re waiting.’
As they left the incident room, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. It was Martin.
‘Are you going to answer?’ George asked.
‘What? Um … yes.’ She nodded. ‘Hello. I’m at work.’
‘I won’t keep you long. What are you doing tonight? Can I come over to meet Tiffany?’
She swallowed hard. ‘That’s short notice.’
‘You did say in your text that Tiffany was free most evenings.’
True. But she hadn’t expected him
to want to come over quite so soon. She’d only texted him last night after George had left. Was it going to be possible to get home in time, as she couldn’t leave Tiffany to meet him on her own?
‘Okay. Is eight o’clock okay? I’ll make us something to eat?’ Crap. Why did she offer to do that? She wasn’t thinking straight.
‘Excellent. I’ll see you later.’
She ended the call and glanced at George. ‘The meeting with Tiffany is happening tonight. And I’ve only gone and offered to cook. What the hell? I need my head tested. I’ll have to tell Tiffany.’ She called her daughter’s number.
‘Hey, Mum. Are you checking up on me?’
‘I’ve just got off the phone with Martin. He wants to come over tonight and I’ve invited him for dinner if you’re okay with it?’
‘Um … Yeah. Sure. Dinner? We haven’t much in.’
‘I’ll stop at the supermarket on the way home. I can make us a chilli, at least we know that will turn out okay. I’ve asked him around for eight. I’ll try to be back by six to cook and tidy up. Are you sure it’s okay? I can cancel if it isn’t.’ Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she waited for her daughter’s reply, half hoping she’d suggest they rearranged the meeting.
‘It’s fine. Let’s get it over with.’
‘Try not to worry. I’ll be with you and if it gets too awkward, I’ll ask him to leave.’
‘Thanks, Mum. Love you.’
‘How was she?’ George asked, as she ended the call.
‘A lot calmer than me. Let’s get to the canteen quick, I need a triple shot of caffeine.’
Twenty minutes later, Whitney and George returned to the incident room.
‘Guv,’ Brian said. ‘I was about to call you. We have Tibbs in the interview room.’
‘Where’s DI Clifford?’ she asked after scanning the room and not seeing him.
‘He’s gone to get a drink.’
‘Did you have any issues bringing him in?’
‘He wanted to know why he was being questioned again as you’d already spoken to him twice, and he was moaning about it being a really inconvenient time, but he did have another person there who he left in charge.’
