by Rob Ashman
‘Why is he poison?’
Sybil arrived at the door with two cups of water. Kray got up and took them from her, passing one to Ellwood.
‘Thanks,’ Ellwood said, taking a sip. ‘Do you ever look at someone and instantly know they’re bad news? You know something isn’t right with them.’
‘More times than I would like.’
‘That’s how it was with Billy. The day I clapped eyes on him I knew he was trouble, I knew he was going to bring a world of hurt to me and my family. But Michael was blind to it, all he saw was his brother. All I saw was a dangerous man.’
‘Why was he dangerous? Was he a criminal?’
‘No, quite the opposite. He was supposed to be one of the good guys. But when I looked in his eyes all I saw was evil.’
‘I don’t get it. You’re going to have to be more specific if I’m going to help you.’ Ellwood stared at her hands, wringing them in her lap. ‘Miriam why do you say–’
‘He was an undercover cop.’ The words tumbled from her lips as though an internal dam had burst.
Kray allowed the words to sink in. ‘What sort of undercover work?’
‘I don’t know. I had the impression it was serious shit. He would disappear for months on end and when he came back he always looked like he was…’
‘What, Miriam, what did he look like?’
‘Cursed.’
‘Cursed? In what way?’
‘I don’t know. It’s the only way I can describe it. Yes, he was distant, yes, he was preoccupied and he took time to acclimatise when he came back, but that wasn’t it. He looked cursed.’
‘I don’t understand, Miriam.’
‘Like everything he came into contact with was going to get hurt. Like… Oh, I don’t know – cursed! You need to protect me and my family.’
‘Are you saying Billy Ellwood killed your husband?’
‘Billy’s a psycho but he’d never hurt Michael. There must be people who would want to do Billy harm, though.’
‘Is that why your husband lost contact with him?’
‘Partly. They lost touch when Billy went into the forces and then when he came out they picked up from where they had left off. Then Billy joined the police and went undercover. He would go away, then come back, then go away again. He lived in Birmingham at the time and we were in Manchester. Michael saw Billy whenever he could.’
‘So, if it wasn’t the job, then…’
‘I don’t know the full details. Billy was working on a case and came home one weekend on leave. The gang he’d infiltrated must have found out he was a cop and turned up on his doorstep. They attacked him and killed his wife.’
Ellwood sprawled on the table again, bawling her eyes out. Water slopped from the plastic cups.
‘I’m sorry, I know this is difficult.’ Kray placed her hand onto Miriam’s arm.
‘I didn’t even know she was pregnant!’ Ellwood pushed Kray’s hand away and sat bolt upright up in her chair.
‘I’m not following you.’
‘They killed her. They burst into the house and stuck a knife in her and she bled to death. By the time the ambulance arrived she was already dead. Twenty weeks pregnant and I didn’t fucking know.’
‘Miriam, slow down, what are you saying?’
‘And it’s all down to him. It’s all down to Billy-fucking-Ellwood. I lied to you last time because I didn’t want you digging around. I was scared of what you might find. But you’ve got to help me now. I have two sons and he will get them killed. He’s cursed, I tell you. Everyone he comes into contact with dies – I have to protect them.’
‘How is he going to get your sons killed?’
‘He turned up at the chapel of rest last night pretending to be someone else. The undertaker described him to me and I know it’s him.’
‘Billy visited the undertaker?’
‘You have to find him. He’s back in our lives and you have to stop him.’
‘I will find him, Miriam. I promise. You say his wife was pregnant?’
‘And I didn’t know. Can you believe that I didn’t fucking know?’
‘Why would you know?’
‘Because Blythe was my sister.’
Chapter 32
Miriam Ellwood spun the plastic cup between her fingers while staring down at the table.
‘I told Blythe not to, and she laughed in my face. I begged her not to and she told me to mind my own business. We fell out about it. I pleaded with her, and said no good would come of their relationship. But she wouldn’t listen. In the end she chose him and I lost my sister. We severed all contact.’
‘When was this?’
‘Twenty-three years ago. It was the only thing we argued about. Then almost five years to the day since I last saw Blythe, we get a phone call from Billy saying she was dead. Killed by a gang of men who broke into their house. It was then I learned about the baby. He was into some dangerous shit. It was inevitable that one day it was going to pile up against his front door. But instead of killing him, they killed Blythe. And now they’ve murdered my husband.’
‘Who are they, Miriam?’
‘The people who attacked Blythe. I reckon they’ve killed Michael to get at Billy.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’
‘I can’t. But what would you think?’
Kray paused, considering the question. ‘What was Billy involved in?’
‘Don’t know but it was dangerous stuff. After Blythe’s death he went to ground and we never spoke of him. Then one day Michael tells me that he’s taking a trip to Blackpool to see Billy. He was only telling me so I didn’t think he had another woman. When he returned from his trips he was quiet and withdrawn. It took him a couple of days to return to his usual self.’
‘You never went along too?’
‘No. I would just sit at home waiting for him to come back. Every time I heard his key in the front door it was like a weight was lifted off my chest. He was home, safe. On the last trip he didn’t come home.’ Her eyes glistened with the onset of tears.
‘What did the police say at the time of Blythe’s death?’
‘They closed ranks and it was all hushed up. There was an investigation but we never got straight answers to our questions. Three men forced their way into the house and Billy killed two of them. The third man got away… was never caught.’
‘What happened to the gang that Billy had infiltrated?’
‘I remember a couple of guys went to jail, but that’s it. The gang was called the Critchleys and were a big deal at the time. The inquest was rammed with reporters, it was all over the news. We had to have a police escort wherever we went. It was a bloody nightmare.’
‘And you believe these people killed your husband?’
‘I don’t know that for sure. All I know is, Michael meets up with Billy and is murdered in a fashion that’s consistent with a gangland execution. You need to do some digging – then come back and tell me what you think.’
I’m sitting in my car, parked across the road from a large bay-fronted house with an integral garage and a wide sweeping driveway. The low privet hedge at the front has been pruned with precision. A small front garden is home to bushes and planted borders.
But I’m not here to admire the sleepy cul-de-sac. My long lens is trained at the leaded front window, beyond which is the dining room, where I can see Eddie Marshall sitting at the table finishing his lunch.
I followed him when he left his home early this morning and watched as he paid a visit to a restaurant that was shut. Despite the sign saying, ‘CLOSED,’ the front door opened as he approached and he went inside. He was there no more than fifteen minutes, then made his way across town to the Paragon. To my disappointment there was no Post-it stuck to the inside of the window.
Then to my surprise the coppers showed up and took him to the station. He was in there for the best part of an hour. For some reason he went home rather than return to the club.
A woman with blonde h
air comes into view and starts clearing the plates away. She looks younger than him. I only get a partial glimpse of her. The camera goes click. She looks familiar.
She moves out of shot and I have a clear view of my target. He gets up and disappears. I pan the lens across the front of the house to the other window and watch as Marshall appears in the lounge, slumping down on the sofa.
‘What’s he doing?’ Jade asks.
‘Nothing, he’s just sitting there. Maybe watching telly?’
‘Tell me again, why are we here?’
‘Gathering intel.’
‘Gathering dust more like. How is this helping?’
‘Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.’
Jade throws herself back into the seat and folds her arms. ‘You used to be so different. There was a time when you’d walk over there, knock on the door, and stab the bastard. There was a time when–’
‘Shut up, Jade, I know what I’m doing.’
‘Doesn’t look like it to me. You need to get in there and kill him.’
‘You know that’s not an option,’ I snarl through clenched teeth, trying to keep the lens still.
The camera goes click again.
‘Don’t tell me. I made a promise. You’re such a pussy.’
‘Shut it, Jade.’
‘You were perfectly happy to slice the other guy up. What’s the difference?’
‘He didn’t work for the Critchleys.’
‘I struggle to see the distinction.’
‘Yeah, well, you struggle with a lot of things.’
‘Pussy.’
I watch Marshall put a phone to his ear. The woman comes into the room and he gets up, moves back into the dining room. His head is jerking back and forth in an animated conversation. He doesn’t look happy.
The woman appears and he waves her away. The call is over and then he sits down, rubbing his chin with his hand. He leans forward, bringing both hands up to his face.
‘What’s he doing now?’
‘Shhh.’
‘Is he crying?’
‘Be quiet, Jade, I can’t quite–’
‘Fucking hell. I mean… fucking hell. Can you see that?’
The image of Marshall blurs as my eyes fill with tears.
My camera goes click.
Back at my flat, I don’t know what to do. My hands are shaking with rage.
‘Look at it, look at it!’ Jade is yelling at me from the other side of the room, marching around in her eighteen-hole boots, waving her arms in the air. Despite the Goth-like make-up, her face is flushed pink. The camera and lens lie on the table. ‘Pick it up and look at it!’
I know she’s right but I can’t seem to get my arse out of the chair. I crumple forward with my head in my hands. My shoulders shake. The sound of sobbing fills the room.
‘For Christ’s sake, what is wrong with you?’ she screams. ‘You’ve wondered all these years; eighteen bloody years you’ve laid awake at night turning your head inside out trying to figure it out. And now you know! And all you can do is sit there?’
I catch my breath and wipe my nose on my sleeve. Both my fists are balled tight. I pick up the camera and press a button. An image of the bay-fronted property flicks onto the screen. I scroll through the photographs. I reach the one showing Marshall sat at his dining table, his hands covering his face. The next shot is of him taking his hands away. Between his fingers is a round disc. I click a few more buttons and zoom in. His left eye socket is closed and dark. The small disc between his fingers is a false eye.
My mind catapults back to that fateful evening when the pizza delivery bloke rang our doorbell; to the two men who tried to batter me to death with baseball bats; to the man in the balaclava who held a knife to Blythe’s throat; to the sight of blood running down his mask as she tore into his face; to the post-mortem results that revealed skin and cornea under her fingernails; to the blood on the carpet as her life leaked from her body.
Marshall was the third man. The man who had his eye gouged so badly it had to be removed.
I’m staring at a picture of the man who killed my wife and unborn child. My head feels like it’s about to split wide open. There is a rap on the door.
‘Just a minute,’ I call out.
‘Are you expecting someone?’ asks Jade, her face returning to the powdered white complexion she loves so much.
I shake my head and splash water on my face from the sink.
‘No, no one.’
I dry off and open the door.
‘Hi, Mr Wright, my name is Detective Inspector Roz Kray. May I come in?’
Chapter 33
‘Are you okay? I can come back later if you’d prefer?’ asked Kray, taking a seat on the sofa. The cold water had done nothing to hide the distress on Ellwood’s face.
‘No, that won’t be necessary. It’s been a trying time of late, I’m sure you understand,’ he said, perching on the chair opposite.
‘It must be difficult. Do you live here on your own?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I thought I heard voices?’
‘How can I help, DI Kray?’
‘What should I call you? Billy Ellwood or Billy Wright? What would you prefer?’
‘Billy What-ever-you-like, is fine by me.’
‘We are looking into the death of your brother, Michael, and I wondered if you would answer a few questions.’
‘Yes, that’s fine, I’ve been expecting you.’
‘What happened on the day you planned to meet with him?’
‘Before we start, who told you I was here?’
‘You came up on our family search.’
‘Really? I’m not sure I would have. I think it’s far more likely Miriam paid you a visit and then you trawled through the archives looking for what had happened to Billy Ellwood. You then had to get the security lifted on my identity and went from there. Am I close?’
‘Yeah, pretty close.’
‘If we are going to do this, DI Kray, it will go a lot smoother if you’re up front with me. Then I will feel more comfortable being up front with you.’
‘Okay, that’s a deal.’
‘Michael and I met every now and again. I was afraid of losing touch altogether, so we played this elaborate game whereby I would send him a ticket to the cinema and he would show up. If he couldn’t make it he would send the ticket back.’
‘How often did you meet?’
‘Two, maybe three times a year, always in Blackpool.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Anything and everything. I enjoyed hearing about how the kids were getting on and about his business. We didn’t talk about Miriam, she was off limits.’
‘How long had you been meeting up this way?’
‘Five, maybe six years.’
‘On the day you were supposed to see him, what happened?’
‘Nothing. He failed to show up.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I waited, but heard nothing from him. So, I drove to his house.’
‘Why didn’t you give him a call?’
‘When we got together he didn’t bring a phone.’
‘Why not?’
‘To satisfy my galloping paranoia, I suppose. After what happened I didn’t want his movements tracked.’
‘You drove to his house to pay the family a visit?’
‘Hell, no. If I’d showed my face Miriam would’ve picked up the nearest sharp object and plunged it through my heart. No, I hung around watching the house.’
‘And what did you find out?’
‘His car was there but he wasn’t. The police turned up on numerous occasions and Miriam and the kids were in a right state. It was obvious something terrible had happened, so I kept my ear to the ground, but heard nothing. Then a body washed up on the beach and I put two and two together and figured it must be Michael.’
‘Did you go to the chapel of rest yesterday evening?’
‘Yes, I did. An Internet conn
ection and a phone was all it took to find him. I didn’t want to risk bumping into Miriam – it was the easiest way to pay my last respects.’
‘Do you know the circumstances surrounding his death?’
‘I assume he drowned…’
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, but your brother was shot and killed before he entered the water, and there were signs of torture.’
Ellwood’s jaw dropped. He swayed in the chair, gripping the armrests.
‘Torture?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your brother?’
‘Jesus Christ, no! What do you mean torture?’
‘The post-mortem showed signs of tissue damage to his nasal tract. We believe he had chilli and carbonated water forced into his nose.’
‘What? That’s a technique used by drug cartels – he was never into drugs.’
‘Is there anyone who would want to harm your brother?’
‘No. Nobody. He was just a regular guy with a wife and two kids. Jesus Christ!’
‘We are trying to piece together his last movements but at this stage it isn’t clear how he was abducted.’ Ellwood stared at the carpet. ‘One possible line of enquiry is that he was killed to get back at you for the undercover work.’
‘Oh, fucking hell.’ Ellwood bent forward, his head in his hands. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. But I’ve been out of that game for eighteen years, do you really think they would wait that long?’
Kray scribbled in her notebook. ‘Can you tell me how you ended up in Blackpool?’
Ellwood straightened up. ‘I was undercover in Nottingham with one of the biggest firms in the country, the Critchleys. They dealt in drugs mainly and I was in too deep. They rumbled me and came looking for their pound of flesh.’
‘How did they rumble you?’
‘From a tip-off. Anyway, one night they came calling and that’s when Blythe was killed. I took out two of the attackers but the third man got away. Blythe had fought with him and had skin under her fingernails, but it came to nothing. After that I fell apart. Miriam blamed me for her death, and she was right – I blame myself. I tried to get back into work but I couldn’t hack it and was pensioned off. That’s when I decided to move and ended up here.’
