by Caz Finlay
‘That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,’ Grace said as they walked through to the back room.
Ten minutes later, the two women had a fresh pot of tea. Leigh sat back in her chair and waited for Grace to speak.
‘I can’t tell you how I know this, but I think you’re right about who is orchestrating all of this.’
Leigh sat forward, her mouth a ring of surprise. ‘Okay. Why?’
On the drive over, Grace had thought about what information she could impart that wouldn’t implicate Michael in Parnell’s murder the night before. Soon enough, his disappearance would be noted. The body and the car had been burned and crushed at Nudge Richards’ scrap yard, and would remain there for as long as Nudge was alive. They had no concerns that his body would be found, or, even if it was, that there would be any evidence to tie Michael or Sean to the crime. Grace was sure that Leigh would suspect Michael had a hand in Parnell’s disappearance, but that didn’t mean she was going to confirm it for her. At the end of the day, Leigh was still a DI.
‘I have come by some information that Simon Jones is the key to it all. He has something in his possession that could blow the whole case wide open.’
‘Simon Jones, the missing pimp from Manchester?’
Grace nodded.
‘Okay. How is that linked to my theory?’
‘My source said this went high up and then the name JB was mentioned.’
Leigh sat back and let out a low whistle. Grace supposed it was one thing to suspect your boss of being involved in a heinous crime, but when it was starting to look like it might be true, well, that was an entirely different story. ‘We can’t find Jones though. His landlord reported him missing two months ago and my colleagues have him as a registered missing person. Maybe he’s dead too?’
Grace shook her head. ‘He’s not.’
‘How do you know that?’ Leigh frowned.
‘His ex-girlfriend works for us, and Simon has been in touch with her. It was a week or so ago. But he’s in hiding, he’s not dead.’
‘Where?’ Leigh sat up straighter, like a hunting dog who’d caught a sniff of its prey.
‘She doesn’t know, but she might be willing to talk to you and you can see if there’s some clue we’re missing. But it would be off the record.’
‘Of course. Everything is off the record now that I’m investigating my own Chief Super.’ She shook her head. ‘This is all crazy. John Barrow has been a copper for over twenty-five years. He oversaw the operation that eventually shut down Sunnymeade and the drug-trafficking ring.’ Leigh visibly shuddered at the realisation. ‘God, he’s been covering his tracks for years. I wonder if he and Sol Shepherd were in on it together?’
‘Looks like, doesn’t it? That must have been how Sol got away with it. He always bragged about having a very powerful friend. Plus, it would make sense after what Jazz said about Sol’s mood changing when he was on holiday. Barrow must have had Melanie killed while Sol was away.’
‘I wonder if he killed her himself? I mean his DNA was never going to show up on the police database, was it? It was the perfect crime.’
‘Well, almost. But if they hadn’t moved on to the girls in Liverpool, the connection would probably have never been made. I wonder how the girls from Sunnymeade fit in with the whole thing.’ Grace said.
‘Well, let’s hope Simon Jones can tell us. But how the hell do we find him? As far as my superiors are concerned, we have our man in custody. I can’t use valuable resources on tracking down a missing person.’
‘Don’t worry. I have just the men for the job,’ Grace said with a smile.
Chapter Forty-Two
Grace walked into her office at Sophia’s Kitchen to see Michael and Sean sitting at opposite sides of the desk.
‘I was hoping to catch you two,’ she said as she walked over to Michael and gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting on the small leather sofa.
‘Oh no, what have we done?’ Sean asked.
‘Or what are we about to do?’ Michael said with a smile.
‘Well, I know how much you two enjoy working together. And I know you enjoy using your very unique and particular skill set. So, how about using it in a way that won’t have me, or Sophia, worried sick about the pair of you?’
‘Sounds intriguing,’ Michael said. ‘What?’
‘I need you to find someone for me. His name is Simon Jones. He is Stacey’s ex-boyfriend.’
‘Danny’s sister Stacey?’ Michael asked.
‘Yes. So, she might be a good person to speak to first. And I’m sure Danny and Luke would be more than happy to help you out if you need it.’
‘I’m sure we can handle it on our own,’ Sean said.
‘Why do you want him found?’ Michael asked. ‘Is it something to do with Stacey?’
Grace smiled and proceeded to tell them about the latest developments in the Liverpool Ripper case. As expected, they were both happy to help track down Simon Jones. She knew that having the chance to help bring down the corrupt Chief Superintendent of Merseyside police would be hard for them to resist.
Michael sat back in the Land Rover and watched Sean flicking through a brochure on commercial kitchen fittings. It had been two days since Grace had asked them to find Simon Jones, and, using their considerable contacts across the North West and beyond, they had tracked him down to a derelict outbuilding in Burnley. It hadn’t been too difficult to find the elusive Mr Jones and Michael wondered if Parnell had been searching for him too. He imagined so, if he really had been working for Barrow. The pair of them would have wanted whatever it was that Jones had on them. For all Barrow’s power and authority, he still hadn’t been able to find Simon Jones. Whilst he had a wealth of police intelligence data at his fingertips, it didn’t always help when people with as many connections as Simon decided they didn’t want to be found. Barrow could hardly send a team of his finest officers after him. Jones didn’t have a warrant out for his arrest, and he hadn’t been a suspect in the Ripper murders, although given what they knew now, he probably should have been.
Sometimes it took good old-fashioned arm twisting and threats to find a person who didn’t want to be found, and Michael and Sean were very good at that, which is how they came to be sitting on the edge of a field in Murf’s old Land Rover, waiting for Simon Jones to emerge for his daily trip to the local shop. They could have gone into the building and dragged him out, but there were too many exits and if he’d been quick enough, he might have got away and into the nearby woods. From their vantage point, they could see the building and would see him leave, but he would be travelling towards the road and would be unlikely to spot them.
Half an hour had passed and Michael was starting to get fed up. Sean was still engrossed in stainless-steel worktops and ovens. Every now and then he would turn to Michael and show him a picture of one he thought would be good for the new restaurant and Michael simply smiled – they all looked the same to him. Grace was responsible for most of the design and furnishings of the restaurants they opened, but she allowed Sean free rein when it came to the kitchen, and he took his role very seriously. Michael was about to suggest to Sean that they take their chances and go in there and get Jones when he saw a figure appear in the doorway. He had his hood pulled up over his head and a large backpack on his back. He glanced left and right but didn’t notice the old khaki Land Rover sitting beneath the trees fifty metres away.
‘Here he is,’ Michael nudged Sean. ‘We going on foot, or in the car?’
‘If we start this beast up, he might scarper. You up for a run, Bro?’ Sean asked. ‘You could do the hundred metres in under twelve seconds when you were a kid. You’ll be there in six.’
Michael turned and stared at him. ‘Yeah, thirty years ago, mate. I’m an old man now.’
‘Fuck off!’ Sean laughed. ‘You’re two years younger than me, and I am not fucking old! Now come on,’ he said as he unclipped his seatbelt and jumped out of the car.
Michael f
ollowed suit and they both closed the doors quietly.
‘You know the plan?’ Michael murmured. Sean nodded and they jogged quietly through the soft grass towards Simon Jones. Michael was only a few metres away from Simon when he finally heard him. He spun around, shouted ‘Fuck!’ then ran off like a whippet. Fortunately, he ran straight into the path of Sean, who had run behind the house and ahead along the treeline. Sean grabbed him, restraining him easily with one arm across his throat and the other pinning Simon’s left arm behind his back. Simon lashed out with his right arm but Michael caught him by the wrist. He took the syringe from his pocket and then held it between his teeth as he rolled Simon’s sleeve up above his elbow.
‘What are you doing?’ Simon stammered as he tried to wriggle his arm free. Michael squeezed Simon’s wrist hard and he stopped wriggling. ‘Please, don’t,’ he wailed.
Michael tapped the inside of Simon’s elbow and felt for the vein. Then he looked into Simon’s eyes and saw the genuine fear in them before taking the syringe from his mouth. He pierced the skin, injecting the liquid into Simon’s arm. ‘Night, night,’ he said with a smile.
‘You really are too good at that,’ Sean said as Simon slumped in his arms. ‘Hardly a drop of blood. You should have been a nurse, Bro,’ he added with a grin.
‘Fuck off,’ Michael said good-naturedly. ‘Come on, let’s get him in the back of the Lanny before someone sees us.’
‘We’re in the middle of nowhere, Michael. Who’s gonna see us?’ Sean said as they wrestled Simon’s backpack from his back. When it was free, Michael carried it by the handle and Sean hoisted Simon onto his shoulder before carrying him to the Land Rover.
Once they were on the drive home, Michael phoned Grace and told her where to meet them.
‘Is she going to be nice Grace or frightening Grace today then?’ Sean asked as he glanced over into the back seat, no doubt to make sure that Simon was still out for the count.
‘Don’t worry about him. I gave him enough to knock a rhino out. And what do you mean?’
‘I mean is she going to get him to give her whatever information he has by pretending she’s his mate, or by making him shit his pants? Both effective, I was just wondering what kind of mood she’s in.’
Michael started to laugh. He’d never quite thought of it like that, but she did tend to get people to do what she wanted via one of those two extremes. There was no middle ground. ‘I imagine, given what Stacey has told her about our friend Simon, she will be employing the latter. But who knows? I expect it will also depend on how respectful Mr Jones is when he wakes up.’
‘Well, let’s hope he tells her to go fuck herself or something.’ Sean started to laugh.
‘Excuse me?’ Michael turned and stared at him. ‘That’s my fucking wife you’re talking about.’
Sean continued laughing. ‘Sorry, mate. But it would make our evening more interesting, wouldn’t it? And from what you’ve told me about this horrible prick, he deserves to have the shit kicked out of him.’
Michael smiled. He knew exactly what Sean meant and if Mr Jones happened to piss Grace off later, then it would be he and Sean who would happily teach him some manners.
Grace walked into the empty warehouse with John Brennan close behind her to see the man she assumed to be Simon Jones, tied to a chair, with Michael and Sean sitting nearby. They appeared deep in conversation. The sound of her heels echoed around the building, making Michael and Sean look up. Michael smiled and Sean gave a quick nod of greeting as she approached them.
‘Did you check his bag?’ Grace asked.
‘Yes. I think this is probably what you’re looking for,’ Michael replied as he held up a small 10MB memory card. It was the kind that was used in cameras before the widespread use of smartphones. ‘But the rest of his shit is on there.’ He indicated the wooden table behind him.
Grace walked over to it and noted the empty backpack, with its contents spread out across one side of the table. Some items of clothing. A penknife. A roll of twenty-pound notes. A near-empty pack of tobacco. Some Rizlas. A lighter and an old-style Nokia phone. On the other side of the table was an array of weapons and tools, which Grace knew were probably there only for effect. Probably. She didn’t approve of torture as a method of getting information. Not as a rule anyway. But she was prepared to bend that rule for scumbags who abused women and children. So everything would depend on how willing Mr Jones was to talk.
Grace walked over to Simon and looked at him. He was unconscious and his head was resting on his chest. His dark hair was curling over his ears and the collar of his shirt and she suspected he usually kept it short, but getting a haircut wasn’t a top priority for someone in hiding. He was lean but muscular and, from what she could see, fairly good-looking. She supposed that had helped when he’d been grooming young girls to pimp them out.
‘Time to wake him up then,’ Grace said as she looked across at Michael.
‘I’ve asked Luke and Danny to find us a camera that we can watch this thing on,’ Michael said. ‘They should be here shortly.’
‘Good. Let’s see if he tells us the truth about what’s really on there.’
He walked over to her, taking a syringe filled with adrenalin from his pocket. He was about to put the needle into Simon’s arm when Grace suddenly had an idea. ‘Stop,’ she said, taking hold of Michael’s arm. ‘I want him to give Barrow up, and to do that, he has to be more scared of us than he is of him.’
‘Well, we can make sure of that,’ Michael said.
‘I know that, but your methods aren’t exactly scientific, are they? What if his heart packs in or something?’
‘Then we’ll still have the card,’ Sean said as he walked over.
‘But we don’t know what’s on it yet,’ Grace reminded them. ‘If the police have the card and him, then maybe they stand a better chance of sending Barrow away for life?’
‘You plan on handing him over to Leigh then?’ Michael asked.
‘I think we have to, or she may not be able to prove that Barrow had anything to do with any of it.’
Michael and Sean nodded. ‘So what are you thinking?’ Sean asked.
‘I’m thinking, he’s been knocked out and kidnapped. What would be the most terrifying sight he could wake up to?’
Ten minutes later, Grace gave the nod to Michael and he injected the adrenalin into Simon’s vein. Michael stepped back as Simon blinked, a bright light from overhead shining in in his face. The rest of the warehouse was dark, making him squint to see what was in front of him. He looked down then, noting no doubt that he was stark bollock naked. His clothes had been cut from his body about five minutes earlier while he was still strapped to the chair. He looked up again.
‘Who’s there?’ he shouted, still squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light. Then he saw him. The giant of a man that was John Brennan, standing bare-chested on a sheet of plastic sheeting and holding a rusty bone saw in his hands. On the floor beside him was a blowtorch and a pair of jump cables – the kind that you used to attach to a car battery. It didn’t really matter that they weren’t actually connected to anything. It would be hard to see given the light.
‘What the fuck?’ Simon said and then he started to scream, thrashing around on the chair so much that it almost toppled over. Michael came up behind him and steadied the chair. He bent down and growled into Simon’s ear. ‘He’s just for starters. You haven’t seen my toys yet.’
Simon stopped screaming, his eyes wide with fear as he tried to turn to see who was behind him. But Michael had disappeared. He turned back to John, who took a few steps towards him. Simon started to cry before he pissed himself.
Grace had seen enough and thought if that hadn’t been enough to convince Simon he was better off in the hands of the police, then she didn’t know what would be. She pulled a wooden chair over and placed it a few feet in front of him. Then she placed a hand on John’s arm. ‘Let’s see if he wants to talk first, eh? Big fella? If he doesn’t, I promis
e you’ll all get your turn.’ She looked around the room and the banging of tools being placed on a table could be heard. Simon tried to turn his head to see what was behind him, but the warehouse was too dark.
John stepped back and waited patiently with the saw resting against his leg.
‘We found your little memory card, Simon,’ Grace said. ‘Some of our associates will be here shortly with a camera so we can view the images. But if you can tell me what’s on it first, I might be persuaded to call off my men and hand you over to the police,’ Grace said.
He looked at her, his lower lip trembling. ‘I can’t go to the police. They’ll put me in jail. And he’ll make sure everyone knows what I did,’ he snivelled.
‘Who?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘I can’t,’ he mumbled.
‘You mean to tell me you are more afraid of whoever this man is than of all my men in here? Men who know exactly what you do to young women and girls and who wouldn’t mind doing the same to you?’ She tilted her head and looked at him. ‘You’re scared of going to prison? Because of what you are and what they might do to you in there? The men in this room will do things to you that will make you beg for the safety of a prison cell. Did you know that Danny Alexander and Luke Sullivan work for me now too? In fact, they’re on their way here with that camera,’ Grace said and she watched as Simon retched and vomited bile onto the floor.
‘We’re going to see what’s on the card anyway. Are you on there, Simon?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He shook his head furiously.
‘Then who is?’
‘I’m no safer with the police,’ he sniffed.
‘Perhaps? But I happen to know a DI who will take you in and make sure that you are protected. Once you’re in police custody, they have a duty to protect you.’
He looked up at her and then across at John, who was still holding the saw.
