Martin’s heavy, tired eyes half-heartedly scanned the interior of his car. He couldn’t see his radio and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen it all day. His head ached, a dull, irritating ache that gave everything a frayed edge. He’d retired to sit in his parked car for a few minutes. That had been thirty minutes ago, and with every passing minute his reluctance to return to the hustle of the police station increased. As the inspector responsible for the day-to-day running of three towns, he was at everyone’s beck and call. There was always someone else’s life to sort out, and no time to sort his own.
‘Of course I can speak. What’s the problem?’
‘It’s a high risk missing person, sir. Something you needed to be made aware of, is all.’
Martin did nothing to conceal his sigh. ‘Okay. I’ll be back at my desk shortly and I’ll take a look. What’s the call reference number?’ Martin saw an opportunity to go back to his desk and close his door, make himself another strong coffee and read through the details of the missing person. It was a good excuse to be alone for a few more minutes.
‘Two eight one of today,’ was the reply.
‘Got it. Briefly, what’s the reason for the high risk?’
‘The wife reported him missing last night. They don’t live together but he was supposed to turn up to take their son out, and according to her he never misses an appointment with his son. It is very much out of character, and she also said that he got some bad news about their son at the hospital and she hoped he hadn’t done anything silly. We got that all worked out though, sir. Seems our missing person was arrested for drug supply and was in your custody down there in Langthorne.’
Martin stiffened. ‘Tony Robson?’
‘Yes, that’s him. You know about this already?’
‘Well, no, but I reviewed him when he was in custody. I spoke to him for a little while. Why are you calling me if this has been resolved?’
‘Oh, well the wife’s called back in. Tony was released three hours ago and he hasn’t made any contact with the wife yet, or their son. She’s now convinced he’s done something to himself. She says he spends every moment he can with their boy.’
‘I’ll go and have a look. The man went through a bit of an ordeal, he’s probably just gone missing on purpose for a bit of reflection. Lord knows, we all need—’
‘Sir, there’s a little more on here.’ The woman’s voice cut in with sudden urgency.
‘A man loosely matching the description of Tony Robson was seen being bundled into a white van by three men about the time of his release, and close to Langthorne House. It wasn’t long called in, sir, and there’s no definite link, but they’ve linked the two calls.’
Martin’s eyes opened wide and his shoulders slumped. What little energy he had, left his body in a sigh.
‘I’ll go and review it from my desk immediately,’ he managed, already fumbling with the door handle.
Sergeant Jim Reeves was waiting in Martin’s office when he got there. He had obviously been wearing down the carpet, and he stopped mid-step, his back half-turned as Martin bustled in. Reeves was known to be a bit of a worrier and he was visibly relieved at Martin’s arrival.
‘Jim,’ Martin said. ‘I imagine I know the reason you are here?’
‘I imagine you do, boss. I’ve got my troops ready and waiting. I just need you to say what you need them to do for you.’
Martin slumped in his chair with another sigh. It had already been a long day. He felt the sort of exhaustion that overtakes you when you’ve been at the limits of your emotions for a prolonged period.
Martin was still angry. It was a smouldering anger that sat below the surface, nothing like the explosive anger that had him thumping the Volvo’s steering wheel following his conversation with Emily Ryker. Martin knew he wasn’t coping, and he knew how that generally ended.
‘It’s a high risk missing person. You’ve handled any number of these, Jim. The basic tasks for your staff are the same as usual.’
‘I can’t say I’ve handled too many kidnappings, sir.’ Jim looked panicked.
‘Do we know who’s got him? What vehicle he was taken in? Do we even know it is the same person for sure?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then the kidnapping isn’t relevant. We need to stick to what we normally do, and make sure it’s done to the best of our ability. Major Crime can handle the rest.’
‘So you want me to get the normal details? Treat it like a normal missing person?’
‘Yes.’ Martin did nothing to hide his frustration. ‘Get round to his wife and ask some questions. Get a proper search done of his home, see who he’s friends with, who he’s been talking to. The normal stuff.’
‘The tactical team have searched his house already, sir. As part of the drugs job.’
‘They searched his house for drugs. It’s a very different search when you’re trying to piece someone’s life together, and besides, he lives separately from his wife. We need to speak to her and see how long that’s been the situation. If it’s a recent thing, he might still have stuff at her place. And she will still know a lot about his life, even if she says she doesn’t. Shame the tactical team aren’t available, I’d get them back out to do both addresses.’
‘They are available, sir. They got in touch with me and said they were aware and were waiting to see if there was anything for them to do.’
Martin had been fiddling with his computer. He stopped suddenly. ‘Are you sure you spoke to the tactical team? They definitely won’t be available — they’re doing personal protection on the chief at the Leas this afternoon, at the ceremony for the fallen officers.’
‘Apparently not, sir. I spoke to their guv’nor, Mr Lance, who said they’d had a call from the chief superintendent who was running the event, and she’d stood them down.’
‘Stood them down?’
‘Yeah. Someone made her aware of our missing person issue and she reviewed the threat level for the chief and basically decided there isn’t one. So she pulled his protection.’
‘So Helen Webb knows about this? Normally she would take something like this over.’
‘She’s gone home, apparently she’s not well. She said you were in charge.’
Martin gritted his teeth. ‘Brilliant.’
CHAPTER 19
‘He’s back. Oh fuck. Sal. Sal! He’s back!’
Sally Morgan had almost found sleep. She had only gone back to check that Lee hadn’t taken out his frustration on her friend Lizzy in her absence. She had seen his truck was missing from the car park and gone up to pick up her stuff, to check on her mate and then she had meant to leave. But Lizzy had some weed, so she’d stayed for a couple of joints. She had no idea how long ago that was.
Sally was in Lee’s flat, 49. It was on the second floor, and access to this floor was restricted to him and a handful of neighbours by an electronic key fob. He was gradually bullying the other residents and the live-in caretaker to get his floor cleared so he would have sole access and the perfect strategic position. No one knew for sure which flats he had control over. He used different ones to store any number of items, all of which were his “property,” and included, or had included at some time, weapons, illicit drugs, sex workers, and recently, trafficked migrants. If there was money in it, Lee Chivers was on it. And his money was always near him.
Money was the only thing he didn’t store elsewhere. It was kept in flat 49 until it reached amounts in excess of two hundred thousand pounds cash. Then he would conduct a frenetic operation to get the money out and distributed to a number of businesses, enterprises, and scams that would get the money back to him clean. Or, at least, with a paper trail legitimate enough to withstand scrutiny.
Lizzy and Sally were involved in this. They collected money from some of the small-time dealers in the area. Now, however, Sally was very much off the payroll, and it had been made clear that to return would be a very bad idea indeed.
Lizzy watched Lee get out of his truck and
approach the communal entrance. Still she didn’t move. The girls were fast running out of time.
‘You need to get out, Sal!’ Lizzy’s eyes were wide, and she pushed Sally towards the door.
‘I can’t, it’s too late! There’s nowhere to hide out there!’
‘Just get out. He can’t find you here! You know what will happen.’
‘Where the fuck are my shoes? I don’t even have my shoes.’ Sally gestured frantically at her bare feet, her mind still muzzy from the strong cannabis.
‘We need to hide. Now! He thinks I’m out collecting his money, he can’t know we’re here! Maybe he’s just coming in to get changed.’
‘Fuck, fuck! There’s nowhere here!’ said Sally.
The girls surveyed the flat. It was a bedsit, dominated by a double bed under the window at the opposite end of the room to the kitchenette. There was a small bathroom near the front door and a single floor-to-ceiling cupboard opposite the entrance to the bathroom that housed the boiler and an ironing board. Nowhere to conceal two adult women.
‘I’ll go under the bed. You go with the money,’ said Lizzy.
‘What if he’s here for the money?’
Through the flimsy front door they heard a male voice. It was Lee and he was shouting. ‘What is it, Marco? This really ain’t the fucking time, mate, you get me?’ There was a short pause. The women stood, frozen at the foot of the bed, Lizzy looking at the front door, Sally facing her. Sally heard Lee’s voice again, but quieter, further away, as if he’d gone towards the main entrance. She knew he wouldn’t be long.
‘Get right in there, the other side from the bag. He won’t see you,’ hissed Lizzy.
Lizzy had already dropped to her knees, assessing the space under the bed and Sally bent down to see if there was room for her too. There were suitcases lying end to end against the wall under the headboard, they took up nearly half of the space under the bed. Pairs of trainers were lined up at the opposite end of the bed. It would do. Lizzy moved some of the trainers, then slid herself under the bed feet first so she could lie flat and peer back towards the door. Her breathing was quick and shallow as she put the trainers back with shaking hands.
‘There’s room for me too,’ Sally said
‘We’ll get caught. You need to go somewhere else, Sally.’
Sally let out a little whimper and stood up. She sprinted the length of the flat, grabbed at the bathroom door and darted inside.
Sally fell to her knees. There was just a flimsy wall between her and the outside corridor, and she could hear footsteps. Feet dragging. It was Lee’s walk.
A key turned in the lock. Sally stood in the middle of the bathroom. She turned slowly, bracing herself for the violence that was now inevitable. She had no idea what to do, maybe she could rush him — use the element of surprise. She just had to get past him, so she could run.
She just had to get out.
Lee stepped inside. Then he turned to look back over his shoulder. Someone had shouted after him. He was carrying a long, thin object, wrapped in a black sack.
‘The fuck you say?’ Lee threw the sack into the flat. It bounced, sounding solid. Then he was gone, back out into the corridor. There were more shouts, he and another man yelling at each other. Sally heard scuffling, a sudden loud thud against the other side of the bathroom wall. The partition shook and Sally yelped. She put her hand to her mouth.
Sally looked down and saw her one chance. She dropped to the floor and tugged at a brown rug that ran alongside the cheap fitted bath. She folded it back and took hold of one end of the long plastic panel that covered the side of the bath. It gave just enough for her to be able to pull it away from the housing, exposing the space beneath. There were more thuds, scuffles and shouts from the corridor just a few feet from where Sally was trying to control her shaking hands.
Sally peered under the bath and immediately saw the bag containing Lee’s drug money. It was blocking her way, big and heavy and made of a coarse, black plastic which caught when she tried to pull it out. She started to panic, and the final wrench drove the back of her hand hard into the base of the toilet. She clenched her teeth at the pain and stared at the bruise that was already forming.
She pushed her legs in first, then inched under the bath on her back. Her view of the door was partly obscured by the cracked white base of the toilet. She tried to fold herself around the bath indent and the supporting bars. Her buttocks and back rubbed against the rough concrete flooring. Her feet were scratched and scraped by the metal support bars of the bath. Tears streamed down her face. She needed a rest but she was out of time.
Lee was back. She heard him push the door so hard that it smashed into the wall. He strode into the flat, looking straight ahead. Sally was almost in position but the bath panel hung open. She was lucky. Lee stormed into the living area. And that meant Sally had a massive problem.
As quietly as she could, she slid herself into position. Her head was bent at an awkward angle, and the pipes coming up from the floor dug into her back and neck. The panel was still hanging wide open, the bag of money lying in the middle of the room. She had to get it back out of sight, but it would make too much noise.
Sally tried to control her breathing. She could feel her heart pounding. She was sure Lee could hear it. She prayed that he would put the kettle on, or the television, or that another fight would break out in the corridor, anything.
His phone rang. He swore loudly but it kept ringing.
‘Wassup, boss?’ His voice was flat, he sounded hesitant. ‘What do you mean?’ Sally could hear him pacing around the living area. This was her chance.
‘I can’t drop everything right now. There’s still a little bit of cleaning up I gotta do from the job this morning. Look, I had to . . .’
Sally reached out for the bag. She couldn’t quite reach the handle, and she dare not move out again. She took two handfuls of the thick plastic, and heaved. The bag moved, just a few inches, and it was the loudest thing she’d ever heard.
She took a firmer hold, tugged again and the bag shifted closer, over the blackened, exposed floorboards. As the bag inched towards her, the voice from the other room was becoming louder, the tone pleading. Sally tried to time the movements of the bag with Lee’s words, but every sentence seemed to be the last. She edged the bag in. It fitted — just. Sally reached over it and hooked her fingers round the plastic edges of the bath panel, taking hold of the carpet at the same time. Panel and carpet moved back into place, though neither was quite flush.
Sally prayed.
* * *
Lizzy had her hand over her mouth. She lay under the bed, her feet flat against one of the suitcases. She had bent her legs as much as she could to try and stay as far away as possible from the end of the bed. Lee had stormed straight into the flat and she had watched him lean on the kitchen units, his sinewy arms taking his weight as he bent his head, his back to where she lay. Now he was on the phone and she could see his mood growing blacker with every passing second.
‘Like I said, the fucker wasn’t going to tell us anything and he was a threat to the both of us. He didn’t know enough to hurt us but we both know he was sent back out to get information on us. To fucking rat on us. On you! You pay me to sort out problems like that, and you want a message sent out so people know it ain’t gonna be fucking stood for.’ Lee moved around the flat. His feet were centimetres from her head as he made his way to the window.
‘I know,’ Lee continued. ‘Listen, don’t think I don’t know that. I just beat a man to fucking death with a baseball bat. I’m dripping in the cunt’s fucking claret — now I didn’t do that for me. I ain’t taking that sort of a risk for me, yeah? I’ll get this cleaned up like I said I would, okay?’
Lizzy’s eyes widened as Lee’s words sunk in, and her fear threatened to take her over. She’d known that Lee Chivers was capable of extreme violence, but this was something else. She could barely comprehend what he was saying. Beat someone to death with a baseball bat!
She looked at the long, solid object wrapped in a sack, that he’d thrown to the floor when he first entered. It was damn near touching her head.
Lee moved to the bottom of the bed. Lizzy had her eyes scrunched tightly shut, but she could sense him near her head. She clamped her lips together so hard that it hurt, and held her breath completely. Lee hadn’t spoken for some time and she wondered if he might be off the phone. She raised her head off the floor slightly, daring to open her eyes. She needed to know where he was. The heels of his boots were tan and so close she could read the word “Danner” written on the back in a darker brown. She was also close enough to see blood on his boots. Lee was facing his front door, feet apart. He sighed. Suddenly the bed springs came down on top of Lizzy’s head through the cheap mattress. She flattened herself into the carpet.
‘What the fuck?’ The springs squealed as he stood back up. His feet pointed towards her. She could hear him pull aside the duvet and the sheets beneath it.
‘No, not you.’ Lee continued with his conversation. ‘Look, I know it’s a fucking mess, but you got to believe me. It don’t change nothing.’ He paced back to the kitchen area.
‘I’ll get back up there and it’ll be clean as a whistle. Them blokes just have to fucking disappear. The Polish has got some family about but they all think he’s been picking fruit in fucking Margate for the last three weeks. They know nothing about who he’s been hanging with. John will be missed, sure, but he’s always had his fingers in pies, running with people that could get him done. There’s no reason for people to come knocking at my door. And if they do? So what? Some fucker I know got shot. You get rid of the shooter and your clothes, I’ll get rid of the slugger and my shit and it’s a standard clean-up at the waste site.’
Lee stopped talking. From where she lay, Lizzy couldn’t be sure of his exact position, only that it must be near the bathroom. Sure enough, he spoke again but it was quieter, muffled as it came through the thin bathroom wall. She could hear Lee urinating. She felt able to take a few deep breaths.
BLOOD MONEY a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 11
