“It’s going to be much less exciting than you imagine,” I assured him. “I’ll be handling talking to the owner, Phil Berry, and I’ll trust you to handle the accounts. Just try not to act as if it’s your first time fiddling business’s bank accounts, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said with an awkward laugh.
“You’re going to do great.” I hesitated. “Look, if you’re having second thoughts, I need to know now. It’s okay if you need to back out, but if we’re going forwards, I need you to be certain.”
“I am. I can do it,” he said.
“Good. If he asks me any accounting questions, field them for me, and if he asks you anything you don’t know the answer to, I’ll do my best to intercept. If you do slip up, we can say that you’re a trainee or something. Sound okay?”
There wasn’t really a backup explanation for if I messed up, but we were as ready as we’d ever be.
“Sounds good. I’ll do my part.”
“I know you will, mate. See you there later.”
I hung up, and Stephen patted me on the shoulder, making me jump.
“Everything alright?” he said. “Is the accountant up for it?”
“Aye, he’s a little jittery, but he’ll be fine.”
“And you? You seem a bit jumpy.”
I huffed a laugh. “I’m good.”
“Honestly, you’re always a bit on edge, Mitch.” He swivelled his chair to face me better. “The first time I patted your back after you arrived, you near jumped out of your skin. I thought you might be, like, touch-averse for a bit, but I don’t think that’s it.”
I frowned at him, confusion and unease making my stomach tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“C’mon, yeah, you do. Be honest with me here, please. I’m not going to judge you or anything.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I snapped before getting to my feet.
Stephen was looking at me with a horrible expression made up partly of hurt and partly of pity. Like he knew something and was so sure that I was just hiding it from him.
“I know there’s nothing wrong with-”
“I’m getting a coffee,” I said, cutting him off and walking away.
A rookie crossed my path as I headed for the break room, but he skittered out of the way when he saw my face, a frown heavy on my forehead. I forced my expression to relax, trying to shake off the tension.
Stephen was focused on his computer when I returned. I’d made him a cup of tea, too, but didn’t look at him as I put it down and moved back to my chair, sitting down stiffly.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” he said. I kept my attention on my computer. “It’s not my place to ask about stuff you don’t want to share, and it’s probably the wrong time. I only care, Mitch, you know that?”
“Sure,” I said flatly.
He sighed. “Okay, whatever. Can we put this to the side at least until this is over? I don’t want you going in there with this, I don’t know, tension between us.”
“Okay.”
He looked at me for a long moment before giving a reluctant nod. We had a few final preparations to do before I’d leave for Phil’s around five, and as we sat side-by-side, I tried to forget what Stephen had said, but instead, it went round my head in a loop.
Phil and Matt had dropped back into my life so unexpectedly, and they’d brought decades worth of baggage with them, too, a lot of which I’d tried to leave in the past. But now, it seemed determined to rear its ugly head, and I didn’t want it hanging over me right now when I needed to be at my most focused.
“Mitch?”
I realised that my breathing had sped up, and I grunted an acknowledgement, rubbing a hand roughly over my face. My hand was shaking, and I stared at it, willing it to stop. It hadn’t done that in years.
“Darren? Hey, look at me, buddy.”
I did. Stephen’s face was scrunched up in concern, and he reached out slowly, putting a warm hand on my shoulder.
“Alright with you if I hug you?” he asked.
“O’course. Why would it not be?” I managed.
He didn’t answer that. Instead, he pulled me into a tight hug. I wished badly that none of this had come up, and especially not right now at work, but the hug helped. Stephen pulled back after a moment and looked at me with a frown.
“You can talk to me, y’know?” he said, before immediately lifting his hands and adding hastily, “But you don’t have to. I’m not rushing you.”
I turned away from him, leaning my elbow on the desk and staring at my computer screen, which had gone dark after being idle for so long. I could faintly see my own face in the reflection.
“I threw myself into the police after my dad died,” I told him quietly.
“Yeah?” he said, just to show he was listening.
“I trained in York, but I took the post at Lockdale as soon as I could. I didn’t want to work so close to where I’d lived with my dad. I only used to be there on the weekends, ‘cus my parents split when I was ten.” I looked down at my desk, running my fingers over the surface.
“My dad was involved in a lot of shit. He was chest-deep in it, you know? My mum didn’t want me to stay with him, but I had friends there. Phil among others and I thought my dad was kind of cool at the time.”
I gave a tight laugh and fell quiet, remembering it all. The fights my parents had before they split, and then afterwards, down the phone and usually about me. All the times my mum’s new boyfriend had tried to be nice to me, but I’d ignored him. The time my dad came staggering home on a Sunday night, drunk as a fish and with a chunk of glass sticking out of his arm.
Stephen stayed quiet as I got my thoughts together, and I took a sip of coffee, the familiar bitterness grounding me.
“It got worse as I got into my teens. I think Dad got into debt, or maybe things got more serious, I don’t know. He never told me. I didn’t tell my mum because she would’ve stopped me from visiting him, and I was worried about him. He didn’t have anyone else, see, and he told me that a few times.”
“That’s too much responsibility to put on a young lad,” Stephen said quietly.
“Aye, I know,” I nodded before releasing a breath and rubbing my dry eyes. “He died in a bar fight. I was with my mum, miles away, and I didn’t hear about it until that weekend when she told me I couldn’t go and visit him.”
“I’m sorry that happened, Mitch.”
I shrugged and gave a shrug, followed by a humourless laugh.
“It’s nothing much. We see worse on the job all the time, don’t we? Other people’s tragic circumstances, stuff they’ll probably need therapy for.”
“Have you ever done that? Counselling?”
“Once or twice,” I said, frowning slightly.
“For the job or for the family stuff?”
“Does it matter? It’s been decades. I don’t even know why I’m telling you, except that this case dragged it all up. It was better staying buried.”
“Or maybe it needed to come up. You say it’s fine, but you still startled, and you haven’t said why.”
“Maybe that’s from all the crazy stress of being in the police, and nothing to do with anything else.”
“Yeah? Is that the truth?”
I twisted to face him, angry now despite myself. He looked stubbornly back at me.
“What do you want me to say? You want me to start crying and tell some sob story about my dad being an alcoholic who beat me? Would that be a good enough reason for you? Would that satisfy your curiosity?”
“Alright, I’m gonna let you cool down. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”
“It didn’t happen,” I barrelled on. “He was a good dad, okay? A pretty bad person but a decent dad. Whatever buried trauma you want me to confess to-”
“Jesus, Darren!” Stephen threw up his hands before glancing around at the people listening and lowering his voice. “I don’t want you to have some awful trauma, for
God’s sake, how can you think that? I was offering that we could talk because I care. But I’m done right now.” He grabbed his coat and things, shutting down his computer with a stab of his finger. “You can call me about work, and I still want you to be careful, but otherwise, I’m going home to be with my wife. Maybe tomorrow we can be civil to each other, hm?”
He strode out of the office, leaving me alone. I thought about yelling after him or following him to have the last word, but it wasn’t worth it. He needed some space to cool down, and so did I. I hadn’t meant the things I’d said to him, not really, and I groaned to think about it, putting a hand to my forehead. I had to go to see Phil soon and meet the accountant who’d been accompanying me, but I’d never felt less like heading into a complex, information-gathering situation.
I blew out a long breath and picked up the phone, plugging in Sam’s contact details and listening to it ring. No doubt she was busy with work and didn’t have the time to-
“Darren? Hey, you okay? You don’t usually call in the day.”
“Aye, I’m fine,” I said. “Stephen and I had a fight.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You want to talk about it?” she asked gently, and I smiled, wishing she was actually here.
“No, it’s okay. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Really? You sure?” she teased. “If I start singing, you’ll change your mind pretty quickly.”
I laughed. “Your singing voice is beautiful.”
“You’re such a liar,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. I missed her with an ache, but it felt good just to talk to her.
“Sorry to bother you at work. You probably need to get back to it,” I said. I was reluctant to let her go, but I knew how busy she was.
“You’re never bothering me, Darren. I’m glad you called me, okay?”
“Okay,” I said quietly. We were silent for a beat.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Aye, I’ll be fine. He brought up some things and… I lashed out, I guess.”
“What kind of things did he bring up?” she asked carefully.
I opened my mouth to reply, but the clock on my computer screen caught my attention, and I winced.
“I’ll tell you about it tonight if you’re free? I’ve got to run now.”
“We’ll talk tonight then. Love you.”
My eyes welled up, and I had to clear my throat. “Love you too, Sam.”
The beep signalling the end of the call sounded in my ear, and I set the phone down. We’d only talked for a very short while, but I felt better, more settled. Stephen and I would hash it out tomorrow, I could apologise, and we’d work it out.
Until then, I’d focus on the job at hand and do the best I could.
Twelve
I felt calmer as I went to meet the accountant a short distance away from Phil’s garage. He was younger than I’d expected and looked a little pale.
“Lee, are you doing alright?” I asked after I’d shaken his hand.
He straightened up and gave me a tight smile. He was a few inches shorter than me but with a mop of curly hair to rival mine. His was ginger, though, and there was a distinctly Scottish look to him, though he didn’t have any particular accent I could distinguish.
“I’ll be just fine,” he assured me.
“Alright. We better get going, then.”
He climbed into the car beside me, and I took us the final distance over towards Phil’s garage. I’d gone past the place the other day on my run, just to see what it looked like, so I didn’t look at it twice as we pulled up. It was the first time Lee had seen it, though, and he didn’t look especially impressed.
“Bit rundown, isn’t it?”
“Yep. I don’t know if that’s intentional or not. It might be a facade to make it look less interesting. Let’s go talk to Phil, hm?” I glanced over at him and was glad to see that he looked pretty calm. “Look, if for some reason it does get too much, pull out your phone and say that your daughter’s calling you. Then we’ll leave, okay?”
“I don’t have a daughter,” Lee said. I gave him a look, and he blushed. “Right, that doesn’t matter. Got it.”
I’d reached out to the tech team back at the station, and they’d got me a tiny microphone to wear when I met with Phil. I touched it now, feeling the tiny bump hidden under my shirt. It wasn’t noticeable in the slightest, I knew because I’d checked several times in the mirror at Hewford, but I could feel it like a splinter stuck under my fingernail, and it felt uncomfortably obvious. I’d have to be careful not to draw attention to it by fiddling with the thing while I was in there.
“All good?” Lee asked. He wasn’t wearing a wire, but he knew I was.
“Yep. I checked at the station that it was recording clearly. We’re good to go.”
He gave me a nod, and we got out of the car, heading over to the garage’s entrance. The big metal doors that would no doubt be wide open in summer were closed down tight this time of year, and I was glad to get into the warmth inside.
“Can I help you?” a teenage girl asked. She was sitting behind a messy desk and chewing gum.
“Aye, I’m here for Phil B-”
“Dee, you came!” Phil’s voice rang out from the side, and I matched his grin as I turned towards him. He walked up and dragged me into a hug, slapping me on the back.
“Hey, man, you alright?” I said when he pulled back.
“Right as rain. Who’s this?” He nodded towards Lee, who gave a tight smile. I clapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“This is my colleague from work. He’s helping me out today. Lee, meet Phil. Phil, Lee.”
Phil pumped Lee’s hand and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Good to meet you, kid. Go on ahead through there, say hi to the guys, okay?” he said, shooing Lee ahead of us. Lee sent me a brief look before he went on through, like Phil said.
Phil wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I could already guess what he was going to say.
“Can we trust him, Dee? He looks barely out of nappies, y’know, and this is grown-up stuff we’re doing here.”
“Phil, I wouldn’t bring him if I couldn’t rely on him to keep his mouth shut. He’s eager for a promotion, and he knows we do a bit of work on the side. It’s all good.”
“Yeah?” Phil blew out a breath, pretending relief, and shot me a smile. “I knew I could count on you, man.”
“‘Course you can. Mates help each other out, right?”
He pulled away with a chuckle and slapped me on the back hard enough to make me cough.
“I know what you’re getting at, Dee. You’ll get your cut, man, don’t worry.”
I’d been aiming more for developing a sense of camaraderie between us with my comment rather than making a point about getting paid, but I should’ve guessed that Phil would take it that way.
“I know, I trust ya,” I said lightly and got a broad grin in return.
His teeth were still a little crooked, just as they’d been when he was younger. He’d been self-conscious about it, I remembered, especially when we went on a night out, and he was trying to look flash. The memory gave me a twinge of pain when I remembered how, if this all went well, I’d be helping to get Phil prosecuted for whatever illegal scheme he was running here. He’d got himself into it, of course, but it still stung.
I shook it off. This wasn’t the time for nostalgia. I’d built a new life since those days, and it was far fuller and richer now than it had ever been in my twenties. I’d put down new roots, and policing was a job I did proudly, so I wasn’t going to let a friendship I’d ignored for over a decade mess up this case.
Phil took me around the garage, showing off the space and talking me through everything he’d done with it since he’d bought it a couple of years back. He dropped brief hints every now and again of things he’d done to get the money for improvements or how an area of the garage could be useful in the future, but none of what he said was incrimina
ting enough to get me excited. The wire would pick it all up. Perhaps there’d be a nugget of useful gold in everything he was telling me, but if there was, I hadn’t picked it out yet.
There was a closed door at the rear of the garage, a stack of old tires sitting in front of it and giving the impression that it wasn’t being used. The disturbed dust on the floor told a different story, though, and I wondered what was back there. I dismissed the thought of asking Phil about it, guessing that for all his jovialness, he clearly didn’t quite trust me enough to let me in on the full depth of his ambitions. Or maybe I was wrong, I thought tiredly, and there was nothing in that back room other than stored junk, rusting away. I wouldn’t know unless I could have a look back there, and that was looking fairly unlikely.
“I went to see your old man’s grave the other day.”
My attention snapped back to Phil almost fast enough to give me whiplash. “Aye?” I said warily.
“Yeah. It’s looking a mess, lots of weeds and that.” He shook his head. “Damn council steals our taxes and doesn’t do a damn useful thing with them.”
“I hear you,” I nodded.
I knew he wanted me to say that I’d go down there and clean it up, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it, even as a lie. Phil had always had a spot of admiration for my dad, but he hadn’t had to live with the bloke.
“Big man like him deserves better, y’know? Shame we couldn’t give him something flashier.”
“Aye,” I said, a touch tightly.
Phil had handled all the funeral prep, but paying for it had come from my pocket. It’d cost a fair bit of my savings to give my dad the plain stone he had now, and I didn’t think it was such a shame to let his memory go unremarked. Maybe it was selfishness that I wanted so badly to leave all of that in the past, but it wasn’t like he’d left a great number of people behind who missed him. He’d been well-known and reasonably respected by those in the know, but I wouldn’t have said he was well-liked.
“Sorry, mate,” Phil said, patting me abruptly on the shoulder and startling me.
“What for?”
“Bringing it all up again. I know it was all hard on you back then.”
Moving Target (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 6) Page 13
