Old Crackers

by Peter Bates

  *

  “How are you doing, Norman?”

  “I’m good, Terry. What about you?”

  “I’m fine, mate. I thought I’d just give you a quick call to see if you’d made any progress with the young kids’ murders.”

  “Not so much if I’m really honest, Terry, even though it is definitely priority. We’ve got ideas, but proof is what we need as you know, and we are very short of that. As I said last time, whoever did it left no forensics behind them, and we have an acute shortage of witnesses. Who the hell would stand up in court in front of those buggers?”

  “I guess that Jed Thomas’s mob must be in your thinking.”

  “They are, pal, but nailing them down is another thing. We’re not even certain that it was them yet. Everything in my mind and experience tells me that it was, but as you well know, intuition on its own won’t bring any sort of conviction.”

  Terry was even more certain than Norman, but neither did he or the boys yet possess the evidence that would stand up in any court. Like Norman, he wouldn’t stop searching until he had, but unlike Norman, he knew that these days his hands and those of his pals were not tied in the same way that Norman’s were. There were no stupid do gooders or political correctness restrictions on him or the other lads now. The latest technology may be out of their realm, but their brains were as good as ever, and neither could anyone beat a lifetime of actual experience.

  “Are your boys on the street still looking out for them?”

  “Yes. They’re on the priority list right now, and every sighting that’s made is being logged. They’re about, and they’ve been seen, but so far there’s nothing significant that would help us.”

  “One way or another, we’ll get ’em, Norman. Just mark my words.”

  “I hope you’re right, Terry. The longer they are out on the street, the more damage they will do. By the way, I know that it’s nothing to do with them, but intelligence has just come in that a new gang has arrived in town from the London area. We have nothing on them, but we know that they are a really bad bunch, and very young too. There are five of them, all between eighteen and twenty-two years of age, and all have violent history. Every one of them has done time in Brixton or borstal before they came here.”

  “Bloody hell, Norman. It’s bad enough already without another pile of shit moving into town.”

  “I know, mate. It’s a pity we can’t issue passports for the place. If I had anything to do with it, this new load of rubbish certainly wouldn’t get even near to one.”

  “If you make any progress on the others, Norman, can you please give me a bell?”

  “Will do.”

  Terry switched off the call and immediately began to redial. Within twenty-five minutes he’d contacted Reg, Frank, and Roy, and updated all three. Another meeting between them might be useful, and once again the Pilgrim’s Arms was beckoning.

  Terry poured himself another cup of tea, and made himself comfortable in the welcome silence of his lounge. Sometimes for him this was the best route to good thinking, and it would be at least another hour before he and the lads met up at the pub.

  His mind slid through the events of the last week or so. Another gang in town to add to what they already had to contend with would just add complications to an already bad scenario. Why would a gang move all the way to Blackpool from London? He didn’t think it would be long before he found out, and he knew that they wouldn’t be making the move just for fresh air and sun! Maybe they simply thought that Blackpool would provide them with easy pickings. Whatever the reason, history told him that any change to a situation could sometimes be good as well as bad. It was rarely ever simple to find the right answer quickly, but from somewhere in the depths of his mind an idea would usually grow, and sometimes it could suddenly appear from virtually nowhere. It might be a very good idea to give Chief Inspector Norman Pendleton another call.

  With his force on the lookout for the gang, he might just know already where they were hanging out in the daytime. It would almost certainly be a public house in the locality. Maybe wherever that might be, Terry and the boys should have their next pint there. The New Boys in Town shouldn’t be too difficult to spot, and that could give him and the lads a head start. With a deep sigh, Terry once more picked up his mobile phone and began to press the buttons.

  CHAPTER 21

  The Parrot and Palm Tree wouldn’t have been an automatic choice for Terry, and he didn’t recall even stepping over its doorstep before today’s visit. The quick call to Norman Pendleton had proved crucial, and had saved a great deal of search time on his and the lads’ behalf. True, the Harrison and Thomas gangs were top of the agenda, but Terry knew that any new mob moving to the area would automatically cross swords with the others, sooner or later. A fast identity fix on the new ones could be very fruitful in the future, and maybe that would be not too far ahead. Neither Harrison nor Thomas would tolerate a London gang moving permanently onto their patch, especially a group of young lads, and sooner or later there would certainly be serious fireworks. Terry laughed aloud to himself. If he could have his way, he would have all three gangs meet up in the Blackpool Football Club stadium and fight it out amongst themselves until the last man was standing. It would be great entertainment, probably a sell-out gate, and a good result for all the locals if they all wiped each other out.

  “I wish!” he said aloud to himself, knowing full well that such an event would never happen.

  “What do you wish?”

  The questioning voice came from behind Terry, and he turned sharply to face the smiling face of Frank.

  “I was just thinking aloud, mate,” he answered with a grin. “Are you alone, or are Reg and Roy with you?”

  “They’re right behind me, Terry. They’ll be about ten seconds away, at a guess.”

  As Frank spoke, the doors swung open and Roy, followed almost straightaway by Reg, stepped in to the Parrot and Palm Tree for the very first time, their eyes quickly taking in the new surroundings, and then finally resting on the table at which Terry and Frank were sitting. Roy nodded his instant approval, noting straight away that the lads were seated at one of the larger side tables, giving them a full view of the pub’s interior and seating area. Not being a particularly large saloon, they should be able to hear most of what was going on around them.

  “Dead on time.” laughed Frank.

  “Well, Frank, we’re not yet dead, but we’re certainly on time.” grinned Reg, as he pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down.

  “I’ll get ’em in,” said Roy, before taking the remaining seat.

  “What would you like, sir?”

  The question came from an attractive dark-haired young lady who quietly appeared behind Roy’s shoulder just as he finished speaking, a big smile on her sunburned face as she asked for the order. Like the other bar staff, she was dressed in light blue colours, and wore matching-coloured shoes. Pinned to the top of her dress, a white enamel badge with red lettering spelled out the word ‘Emma’.

  Roy turned his head sharply, his eyes flicking from the girl’s pretty face to the badge on her lapel.

  “We’re not used to such good service, Emma. Thank you, love; we’ll have four pints of your best bitter, please.”

  “OK, boys,” she replied. “I’ll get them for you now, and I’ll bring back the food and snacks menu, just in case you are feeling a bit peckish and need some grub.”

  “Blimey,” said Frank in a low voice, as the girl retreated to the bar. “We’re not used to this sort of service.”

  “You’re not kidding,” agreed Reg. “Maybe we’ll come back here again, regardless of what we see or don’t see today. Let’s judge it when we see what the beers are like when they arrive. If they’re half as good as the service is, I fancy we’ll be coming in here on a regular basis.”

  The beers were good, and the four men visibly relaxed as they savoured each sip, taking the time to talk about many of the things that they would have discusse
d on every pub visit until the recent troubles took over their conversation. Sport, politics, and local news all came under their scrutiny, just exactly as those particular subjects had previously done. After twenty minutes the polite conversation and laughter was cut short, the peace harshly interrupted as five lively young men bounced their way through the pub doors and headed noisily towards the centre of the room.

  “Sit here, boys.” the tallest of the group, beckoning to the largest central table as he shouted the words to his companions. “Go and get the beers in, Bart.”

  “OK Phil, will do,” responded a chunky youth, aged around twenty, and wearing a similar outfit to the other four. All five boys wore blue denim jeans, together with a varying range of multi-coloured T-shirts. Four of them carried small canvas rucksacks slung loosely across their shoulders.

  Frank, facing the new entrants table directly, picked up his newspaper and held it up just a fraction below eye level. His eyes constantly flickered discreetly from the open page to the boys.

  “This has got to be them,” he spoke under his breath.

  “No doubt,” added Reg quietly. “They certainly fit the outline description of what we expected. Pity we can’t run off a couple of pictures.”

  “Maybe we can,” muttered Roy. “Next time the girl from the bar comes by our table, ask her to take a picture of us all. If we can get her to stand behind you and next to the wall, Frank, when she takes it, these boys should all be in the background.”

  “Good idea, mate,” muttered Terry. “When we’re ready for a top up, we’ll signal the bar and call her over. By the way, if we had any doubts about these buggers being the ones that Norman mentioned, the southern accent certainly gives them away. I’d like to know exactly what they’re carrying in those rucksacks.”

  “Let’s just see what we can hear for twenty minutes or so, and then we’ll leave,” added Frank. “That way, we won’t look so obvious and if we come back in here again, we’ll just look like a set of regulars.”

  “I’ll go along with that, Frank,” whispered Roy. “We’ve been lucky so far, and we don’t need or want to push it just yet. I was just thinking though, if we left the pub but hung around somewhere close by, we could maybe follow them from a distance. There are so many visitors around at the moment, we could easily blend in without being spotted, and we might just get lucky and discover what transport they are using. A number plate registration could be quite useful as well.”

  “Good thinking, Roy,” agreed Terry again. “You never know whether we could use that sort of info or not to our advantage, but I’d bet you good money that Norman Pendleton would welcome the tip off. I’m sure that the more we do for him, the more he’ll do for us.”

  “That’s for certain,” added Reg.

  “You’re right,” nodded Frank. “Norman’s a good man to have onside. He certainly won’t be happy that he’s now got this crew, as well as those of Harrison and Thomas, operating on his patch. Get the bar girl over here, Roy. Let’s get those photos taken.”

  In the space of just twenty minutes, the expression on Emma’s face had changed. The previous pleasant smile and demeanour were now replaced by a sad expression and deeply reddening skin as her eyes constantly flickered towards the noisy group of young men.

  “Are you OK, love?” asked Terry.

  “I’m fine. It’s just that bunch of lads that have just come in. They are really loud, and extremely rude, to say the least.”

  Terry nodded. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed, Emma. If I were you, I’d ask the boss to serve them instead of you doing it. Just tell him what you have told me, and I’m sure that he’ll take over from you under the circumstances. In the meantime, would you mind just snapping off a couple of pictures of me and my mates together. If you can, take them from the bar area and try to include the faces of those buggers in the background. You should be able to take the pics without being seen by them if you keep the camera behind the pumps. There’s no flash or noise, and it’s only small, so don’t worry at all, you’ll not be spotted by them, and we’d be extremely grateful if you could do that for us.”

  Terry handed the girl the camera and slipped a twenty-pound note and a small piece of folded paper into her hand.

  “That’s just a big thank you from me and my friends, Emma. The paper note has my telephone number and name on it. If these blokes come in again another time, and you get the opportunity, please give me a quick call or just text and say IN. I’d really appreciate it if you can do that for me.”

  Emma glanced sharply from the twenty-pound note to the small paper, unfolded it carefully with her delicate and slim fingers, and then simply whispered, “Thanks, Terry — will do.”

  Terry returned to his seat, nodded his head slightly to the other three, and then made a faint gesture to Emma, who was now once more behind the bar and with the camera held discreetly by her side, already pointing it in their direction.

  “OK, lads,” said Terry quietly. “It’s done. I’ll collect the camera later, when we leave. In the meantime, we’ll carry on and listen for anything we can pick up from those boys.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Reg. “We’re here, so we may as well just see what comes up, if anything. The beer is good; at least our own company is good too, so let’s just hang around a little longer. These guys are so loud; you never know what we could yet discover.”

  Roy nodded his head in agreement. “I’ll get another round of beers in. Same again, lads?”

  “Yes, and maybe a couple of butties too,” grinned Frank. “I’m getting a bit peckish. My mum always told me to eat something when I was out on the beer.”

  “Well,” laughed Roy, rising to his feet, and then lowering his head close to Frank’s ear. “You’re not exactly out on the beer, Frank, but it’s not a bad idea, and the longer we’re here, the more we might learn.”

  Reg decided that he would adopt Frank’s old trick of appearing to hold up and read a newspaper. As though puzzling over a crossword, he held a pencil in his spare hand. Every few minutes or so, he nodded his head whilst appearing to look up, and quickly scribbled down a word on the paper, as though answering one of the clues.

  “I’ve just done four down,” he grinned to Frank in a normal voice.

  “That was a tough one.” replied Frank. “You’ve done well with that.”

  By the time that Roy returned with the drinks and snack food, Reg folded the newspaper and boldly stated that he’d done enough crosswording for one day.

  “Maybe I’ll finish it at home,” he added with a smile.

  “Good idea,” agreed Roy, before lowering his voice to little more than a whisper. “Don’t swig the beers too quickly, lads. If this lot just have one or two and then leave, we need to make ours last out for that and be ready for an exit almost straight away. If it turns out to be a long time from now, we’ll just go anyway and call it a day. Wherever they’re parked, I don’t think it will be a million miles away, and it would be good to get the plate numbers and maybe even their current addresses, even though that’s very unlikely unless they’re parked where we are in the car park just around the corner. We’ll split up into twos and keep a good distance. You all know how it’s done, and we can keep in touch by phone if need be. Don’t get too close, whatever you do, and take absolutely no risks.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Frank’s back garden was as good a place as any to meet after leaving the Parrot and Palm Tree. Once more, the canvas deck chairs were pulled out of the garage and stacked on the lawn in a small circle. The rapidly dimming light from the dying sun was still warm enough and bright enough for the four men’s comfort and vision.

  Roy retrieved his phone and a small piece of folded paper from his jacket pocket. “I reckon we got a bit lucky in there, lads. We got photos, at least the first names for every boy present, and two sets of vehicle number plates. It couldn’t have gone much better.”

  “I agree, Roy. The two cars being parked just around the corner was a real bonus, and ov
erhearing their conversations in the pub wasn’t exactly difficult, even with our depleted hearing. Some of what we heard was really quite useful.”

  Frank nodded and joined in the conversation. “Especially their talk about other gangs in the area. Obviously, they don’t know their way around yet, but both Harrison’s and Thomas’ gang were clearly mentioned, so they must have done a bit of research and now have a good idea who their main competition is going to be. Either way, they didn’t seem too concerned about that or see the others as a problem. They’ve probably been used to ruling the roost wherever they came from, and expect to do the same here. They could be in for a very big surprise, though.”

  “OK, boys,” said Reg. “What do you reckon is next?”

  “Well,” Roy spoke up after a few seconds. “We know what the score is between Harrison and Thomas, and at some stage that situation is going to blow up. Neither of those two gangs as far as we know are aware of the new one though at this time, but when they are, I don’t think that either of them will hang about for very long without doing anything.”

  Terry took a deep sip of chilled beer, and thoughtfully looked in turn at his three friend’s faces. “I wonder if it would be possible to gain access to their phones or email accounts.”

  “I doubt it, mate. We certainly don’t have the technology for that sort of stuff amongst us old buggers.” Reg looked questioningly at the other three faces as he responded.

  “No, and I don’t think that it’s the kind of info that Norman Pendleton would help us with either.”

  “Maybe not,” responded Terry, “but just their phone numbers might be sufficient.”

  “Why would you want them?” asked Frank.

  “Nothing definite at the moment, Frank. I’ve just got a few ideas floating around in my head, that’s all.”

  Terry’s face looked blank as he spoke. It was clear that whatever his ideas were, he wasn’t going to disclose them right now.