The Retirement Party

by Graham Miller

  'And...?'

  'And what?' He theatrically let his arm hang over the side of his chair, smoke curling up from his fingers. Damn, he knew how to work that laid-back look.

  'What do you know about it? I need something. A link, anything. A name to talk to.'

  'And then what? Would you actually solve it? Would the police be bothered or would they just think it's a good thing, dealers bumping off other dealers?' He paused to consider his next words. 'You know what is was like growing up. Us and them. Only now you're them.'

  'I'm not them. That's the whole point. I want to do the job properly. No bias, not make any assumptions. Investigate when a dealer gets a beating as much as if it was a middle-class wage slave.'

  'Even when the victim doesn't want your lot involved?'

  'What do you mean?' Emma wasn't comfortable with how far she was being drawn into his world, reminded of her past.

  'You know what I mean. You grew up in that world too. It's whole, enclosed, sufficient unto itself. If someone gets a beating, we'll rely on our bosses to sort it out.' He paused again, taking a slow drag on his cigarette. 'Listen, people will want drugs, so other people will sell them drugs. There might be beatings and turf wars and what have you but when the dust settles, we'll be back where we started.'

  'Never had you down as a philosopher!'

  'Ah well. I like to keep surprising you.'

  Emma frowned for a moment. Something was niggling at her. 'So, it is a turf war then?'

  'Jesus! You really haven't even got that far then? Yeah, it's turf. Everyone who's had a beating has been dealing for the biggest local gang.'

  'Are you sure about that? The victims all have fairly thin records. Occasional cautions for possession or going equipped. But not serious amounts of drugs or possession with intent to supply.'

  Lukas shut his eyes and appeared to be meditating. But he was thinking hard. 'Babe, you have no idea what goes on down here. Are you sure you want to go down this road?'

  'What do you mean, Lukas?' She wasn't used to him being serious and it unnerved her.

  'How are things at work? Are you part of the team, or do you have a strange feeling that there's something you're not being told?'

  Emma thought about Hargreaves and Haines and their mysterious disappearances. It was clear that most of the constables and sergeants knew what was going on, and that she wasn't being told.

  'You see! I thought so!' Lukas was gleeful. 'You ain't in on it are you? You'd have said otherwise. I can read you like a fucking book!'

  'Yes, you're right,' Emma conceded finally. 'But I'm getting a bit fed up with always being outside of the big secret.'

  Lukas took a deep breath. Then he fished out his phone. 'This ain't no quick thing. Let me put my friend off 'til tomorrow and then we can talk without interruption.'

  There was a pause as he quickly sorted out his evening. When he was done, he put his phone down and said, 'Listen, babe, I hate to bring it up, but I'm a bit low on the old cash. Is there anything you could do?'

  'I could sign you up as a confidential informant. We have a fund to pay for information.' Lukas nodded and didn't say anything. 'Shall I get a takeaway in? Indian?' She already had her phone out, and he nodded enthusiastically.

  'Right then. So these guys who are getting beaten are actually drug dealers who mysteriously we've never been able to catch. Do you know who's doing the beating?'

  'Kids. Teenagers. Funny accents, foreigners. Turn up on the train, kick the shit out of someone, bugger off back to where they came from. Home in time for tea!'

  'Where do they come from, do you think?'

  'Cities. Don't matter if it's Bristol or Birmingham or London. You can always get there and back in a day.'

  Emma rolled her eyes. County lines – the practice of exporting inner city drug problems to provincial towns. She'd have to look into it when she got back as usually the city gangs fought each other, not the locals.

  There was a noise as someone moved around upstairs. Both of them tried to ignore it but Emma noticed that Lukas looked nervous.

  Lukas snapped his fingers and pointed at her. 'Did you know that you're the ninja cop? They're still talking about the short blonde who had Robbie over the bonnet of an unmarked car. You're legendary.' Lukas was obviously proud by association. 'Does this mean I get some kind of protection? Like Robbie? You had him bang to rights and he walked with a caution.'

  She had to consider her reply carefully. She still hadn't figured out the lie of the land, except to know that arresting this Robbie had ruffled some feathers. 'You mean to say, that's why none of those people who were beaten have serious drug records?' Lukas nodded, watching the truth dawn on Emma. 'They're all signed up?'

  'Well, maybe not all officially on the record. Listen, you're not like the old guys, are you? You know, they've been filth their whole lives, always are, always will. More than that, most of them have been in the town forever too.'

  Emma shut her eyes and rubbed them. She was struggling to get her head around what Lukas was saying. 'There's no way that we have the resources to sign up every drug dealer in Bradwick as a confidential informant. And that's not what's happening anyway as our crime stats are good. We're not letting people off, we're nicking a good number of dealers, getting product off the streets.'

  'Have you ever heard of King Kabs?'

  'Obviously, they're one of the main companies in Bradwick. Most people have their number so they can get home after a night out. But that's not what you mean, is it?'

  'Word is that if you work for them, then you're insured. And I don't mean driving a cab. In return, they hand over the details of their rivals. It's the perfect system, they have no competition and your lot get plenty of arrests.'

  'That's quite a big accusation there.' Emma was stalling for time. Her mind whirled through the whole lexicon of Professional Standards and bent coppers and how she felt about it. 'Do you know who might be doing this? Here?'

  'Well, some people in the... in your crew.'

  'In my team?' She leaned forward.

  'Yeah. People I've seen you with. Or people that I then see working with them. We pretty much know what CID looks like. I reckon they've all got their hand out, one way or another.'

  Emma frowned. 'What do you mean, hand out. I thought it was just information flowing to and fro.'

  'I'm from out of town, so every now and again I run into a dealer I've met before. You know at festivals and what have you. Here and there. Apparently, there's a gap between what you get nicked with and what turns up on the charge sheet at court.'

  'Skimming? These are very serious allegations, Lukas. I suppose none of it's provable?'

  'Course not. It stands to reason though don't it. Whoever gets nicked ain't gonna stand up in court and say "excuse me your honour, I had another kilo of gear that's got lost" now are they?' He paused and realised that Emma was still confused. 'The gear goes back to King Kabs and the missing money must be hidden away somewhere, probably in the back pockets of your colleagues.'

  'So, it was all working 'til recently. What changed? Why the beatings?'

  'Well.' He stopped to scratch his ear and tug on the gold hoops threaded through it. 'New guys are coming in. You see we used to know what we were doing. It took me a while to be trusted when I first moved down here. But once I was in, I'd buy off someone who trusted me. He was introduced to me by a friend who'd known him since school. You know, after a year or so, he gave me stuff on tick and I'd go round my regulars and they buy it. I get enough to pay off the tick and buy the next lot. The system works. But now there all these rumours of Latvians coming. They're all about quotas and profits and selling more. And they'll be bringing underage girls over to work in the brothels, men with guns. Fancy cars and guys you've never met before. No tick, no friends. Whole different ball game.'

  Just then the Indian takeaway arrived. By the time clean plates had been found and everything dished up, Emma had had a chance to think. She could see the sense in w
hat Lukas said, but none of it was particularly provable either. But it did have the advantage that it fit all the available facts. She resolved to file it away until it came in useful.

  She did like spending time with Lukas. He was easy company, and although he was on the other side of the law, they had a shared background. She had to remind herself to treat him as a little brother. Someone she could be fond of but would always have to protect as well to some extent. This level of involvement was dangerous enough – it couldn't go any further.

  When they were mopping up curry sauce with naan bread, she brought the conversation back around to business. 'There's somewhere else we're stuck at the moment. What do you know about these murders? The young woman who was killed and dumped?' Lukas looked shocked and leant back from the table. 'No, not you. You're not a suspect. But you get around. Meet people. The sort who wouldn't talk to the police.'

  She stopped talking and let the silence draw him out.

  'It's a bad business that. I'd never, you know. I mean, I might sell a bit of blow, I could find you a stolen TV if you want, I might even give someone a slap if they deserved it.' He paused, considering his words. 'But killing a woman? What was she seventeen? Still a child really. Horrible.'

  Emma sighed. If she was a few years younger or if Mazey or Stella had been a few years older, they would've been contemporaries. Even now it wasn't impossible that she'd have friends in common through Lukas and a network of families. She took a deep breath. She had to get her professional head back on and bury her feelings if she was to have any chance of catching the killer. 'Any names come to mind?'

  Lukas went silent. He rolled a cigarette and only when he'd lit it and taken a drag did he talk. 'I have heard one thing. Just the weirdest thing really. You heard of a bloke called Gregory Watts?' Emma shook her head. 'A mate of mine was mouthing off about him last night. Apparently, he's a right flash git. Grew up on the Seaview Estate. That's the rough area around here, ex-council houses. But this guy, as soon as he could, put on a suit and became an estate agent. Got loads of money and moved out.' Emma was considering whether to interrupt to bring him round to the point. 'This mate of mine was getting all wound up. His younger sister was hanging around with this Gregory Watts. He was always chatting up schoolgirls. According to this friend of mine, he's knocked up three or four of the estate girls. Once they've had a couple of kids and start looking a bit old, he trades up to a younger model.'

  'So, he's a paedophile?'

  'Maybe. But he's dead smart. He drives them around in his car, buys stuff for the girls, takes them out for food. Then he moves 'em into his big flash house and they think they've got it made. That is until their time is up, then he boots them and moves on to the next one.' Lukas paused for a bit to consider his next words. 'Anyway, this mate of mine was trying to round up a posse to go round and sort him out. His sister says that he always picks up girls who look young but are over sixteen so the police can't do anything.'

  'And how did you leave it?' Emma asked, full of concern.

  'Well, it's a mug's game, innit? Some bloke who I see now and again, his sister reckons that someone is a bit dodgy and we all go round and beat him up? Nah! How do we know if she's got a beef with him about something different? Or the message has been garbled in Chinese whispers or something?' He shook his head violently. 'I mean, I'm all for justice, but you've actually got to know, haven't you? Before you go taking risks.'

  'But you reckon he's worth a look?'

  'Hey, you can do the research can't you? Older man likes teenage girls. He's obviously wound up some of the locals around here. Just do your own work, yeah. Make sure first.'

  'Okay. I can do that. Gregory Watts, estate agent.' Emma made a note. Sometimes it seemed the universe had an inexhaustible supply of men who wanted to use women. 'I'll run him through the system, see what pops out.'

  'Yeah, you can give him a look. But do your own work on it, you know. This is all second-hand to me. My friend's sister nearly got caught by him. But he picked someone else in her year. He sounds proper creepy though, worth keeping an eye on.'

  'Cheers for that. And I'll do my own homework, don't worry.' There was an awkward pause. 'And for the other stuff, you know.'

  'What you going to do about that?'

  'Nothing for now. It was just bugging me that I was being left out. But there's not much that I can do without proof. You don't move against your whole team without being totally certain.' She paused and weighed it up. 'It'd need doing carefully or not at all. Otherwise, no one would ever talk to me again.'

  'Well, you be careful, babe. I know you. Know what you're like. You've never liked anyone cheating or cutting corners. But this is the way things are around here. It's been that way for ages.'

  'Until now, that is. I have a feeling that everything is about to change.'

  * * *

  DC Angel decided to walk home from Lukas' house. He'd given her a lot of information and if even half of it was true, then she had a lot to think about. She wasn't sure what she'd do with it or how she'd set about finding out what was true.

  Outside a pub, a woman said 'excuse me' as she approached. She stopped and saw that the woman looked vaguely familiar. She had straight black hair and the kind of pretty face that suggested an Asian grandparent or two. DC Angel took a couple of steps closer and mentally upgraded the other woman from pretty to stunning.

  She was expecting a request for a light or the time, but the woman was holding out a wallet as if she'd found it on the street. DC Angel looked down and saw a warrant card. Maxine Jones. The photo matched and the card looked genuine.

  Not willing to be drawn into a conversation, DC Angel frowned a question at Maxine Jones. Sergeant Jones, she corrected herself.

  In reply, the other woman handed over a business card. Department of Professional Standards.

  In a low voice Angel said, 'This is a bit cloak and dagger, even for you lot, isn't it?'

  'Well, you're a hard woman to get on her own. You go to work, eat in the police canteen, live in a house full of colleagues.'

  'So? You know that much about me, you must know I'm clean.' DC Angel turned to face the other woman who she didn't trust one bit, an impression she'd had when she first saw her and that was only confirmed when she learned where she worked.

  'It's not you we're interested in.' DC Angel's heart sank. Her head was still spinning from Lukas' suspicions. 'Do you fancy a drink?' She indicated the pub they were standing outside. It was one of those that had survived in the middle of a street of terraced houses. DC Angel had a feeling it wasn't a question she could say no to. She knew that once Professional Standards took an interest, they didn't give up.

  Once inside, she saw why it had been chosen. It was a traditional bar, the sort of place that you'd come for a couple of drinks before moving into the town centre proper. Michelle Jones chose a table far from prying ears.

  When halting pleasantries had been exchanged, and drinks bought, Michelle launched straight into her pitch.

  'We're interested in your team at CID. Whispers have started reaching us that they might be less than honest. Possibly not everything they seize gets entered as evidence. As I'm sure you're aware, dealing with drug dealers means a lot of untraceable money and other items flow through your hands.' DC Angel nodded, wondering what this had to do with her. 'You're new in the team, so I don't expect them to trust you straight away. But, from what we can see, you're ambitious. You don't let opportunities slip past you. If what we're hearing is right then you must know that it won't last forever. Sooner or later, there'll be a big case or a slip up or something. We already think that things are changing in the town, we just don't know quite how. But it could go wrong at any time. When, and that is a when, not an if, that happens, you need to decide which side you are on. Because I think you'd want to still have a career.'

  'Wow! You don't mess around, do you?' DC Angel shook her head.

  'No. I think the direct approach is best.'

  'An
d do you also think that if I spy on my colleagues, work for you on the quiet, then it'll be okay? People talk, you know. And these are the people I have to rely on, who need to have my back when it gets dangerous. And I just don't mean while I'm in CID, I mean if I stay in the force. I won't have a shadow hanging over me.'

  'It could be managed. We think you're bright enough.'

  Flattery, DC Angel thought, interesting opening gambit. 'Bright enough for what?'

  'Well, you're new, you're a woman, and you're from out of the area. If we close up the case soon, within a year or two, you could play it that it was an old boys club that you were never invited to join.' There was a carefully calculated pause. 'It would also make it easier to explain your good fortune in climbing the ranks.'

  Bribery and flattery, DC Angel thought. That's their angle. She leant back from the table and considered the offer. They were right about one thing, she was ambitious. But to take a job like this, she'd have to be sure of her motives.

  Sure, she hated the police, had done as long she'd been old enough to understand what they were and what they did. But she'd rationalised that by joining the enemy she could maybe change them from within.

  But this was different. Her original plan was to be a new kind of police officer, one who was engaged and not prejudiced. This offer was one level beyond that. She could take down a whole corrupt department.

  But then she thought about her friends, the people who'd made her feel like part of the team. True there were some people – DI Hargreaves and DS Stonor for example – that she would rather not work with. But Professional Standards? Could she really put an end to that many careers?

  'You haven't said no, and that's all we need at the moment,' Jones said. 'It also means that they haven't got to you first. I want you to think about everything we've just said. Give me your phone and I'll put my personal mobile in. Text me like one of your friends and I'll get the message.'

  DC Angel nodded, unable to think of anything coherent to say. With deep misgivings she passed her phone over and watched as the other woman expertly entered her number.