A Long Way Down

by Ken McCoy

  ‘Perhaps so, but I think he’s an excellent choice.’

  This raised a smile from Sep, although Hawkins knew she’d have to bring him into line as soon as possible.

  Back in Sep’s house, Winnie’s face varied between shocked and smiling when Sep told her about the incident and his possible promotion, but the smile left her face when he added, ‘Trouble is, we’re still no nearer to finding out who killed Charlie Santiago and James Boswell. I’m fairly certain it wasn’t any of Redman’s mob, although he was definitely in on this Snowball scam.’

  ‘Sep, why don’t you leave that to people who can get about without crutches?’

  ‘This is my case,’ said Sep. ‘I’m going to follow it through to the end, unless Hawkins takes me off it. I think I might hobble round to Mrs Boswell’s house tomorrow and bring her up to speed. My leg’s getting better by the day. It’s Eli’s funeral tomorrow and right now I’m going to bed. I’m knackered.’

  Sep felt out of place standing at the lectern in the crematorium. He’d prepared a eulogy for Eli which glossed over the old man’s life; he simply mentioned that he’d met him through work; a mention that raised a few wry smiles in the congregation among those who had known Eli of old. Outside, after the ceremony, a man of around Sep’s age came over to talk to him.

  ‘I’d like to thank you for the eulogy you gave my dad and for not mentioning his time as a burglar.’

  ‘Your dad? I didn’t know Eli had any children. Although I have to say, you have a look of him around the eyes,’

  ‘There’s just me, my name’s Peter. I was brought up by my Auntie Jean, Dad’s sister.’

  ‘What about your mother?’

  ‘She left me with Dad just after I was born. No idea where she is or even who she is. Dad never talks about her, nor does my Auntie Jean, who’s over there.’

  He pointed to a woman in her late forties, talking to a younger man, perhaps in his early twenties.

  ‘She’s talking to my son, Benjamin.’

  ‘Good grief! Eli had a grandson. Did he know?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. In fact Benjamin knows nothing about his granddad. You see, he’s a bright lad and would have found out all about him, which wouldn’t have done Dad’s reputation much good in Ben’s eyes. I built Dad up to be a paragon of virtue so I couldn’t really afford to have them meet. Ben thinks I was deserted by both my parents. What else could I tell him?’

  ‘How long is it since you last saw your dad?’

  ‘Oh, that was six years ago on my fortieth birthday. To be honest I thought he might have been banged up for something or other. He was living in Bradford when I saw him last, working as a jobbing builder.’

  ‘As far as I know’ said Sep, ‘he’d been going straight for eighteen years.’

  ‘Well, I figured as much, although he never boasted about it. Let’s face it, most people go straight all their lives without boasting about it. Before that we met from time to time. He had my phone number and we’d meet in some pub or other. Dad told me about you and I’ve read bits about you so I know he wasn’t exaggerating. He thought a lot about you despite you always arresting him. If he turned his back on crime I reckon it was down to your influence. I gather he lived in your cottage.’

  ‘Lived and died in it, I’m afraid,’ said Sep. ‘But he died a brave death. My fiancée was with him when he was shot, she’s over there.’ He pointed to where Winnie was talking to some people from both her and Eli’s past.

  ‘This son of yours, what does he do?’

  ‘He’s at university, studying English.’

  ‘Did Eli recommend this?’

  ‘Actually, yes. Why do you ask?’

  ‘It’s what I studied at Uni.’

  ‘Well, I think he told me that. The problem Ben has is the same as all students have nowadays – he’s perpetually skint and he doesn’t have a wealthy dad to support him.’

  ‘What is it you do?’

  ‘I’m an engineering draughtsman.’

  ‘Sounds like a good job.’

  ‘It’s not bad. It pays the mortgage and keeps the wolf from the door, but no more. We don’t have money for foreign holidays or anything, but I have a lovely wife and we all get on well together.’

  ‘That’s more important than money. What year is Ben in?’

  ‘He got his BA last year and stayed on to do a Masters, only I don’t think the money will spin out that long and I’m not in a position to help him much. He intends becoming a teacher. That would have made Dad really proud. I assume it was you who put the notice in the Yorkshire Post?’

  ‘It was, yes.’

  Peter’s face took on the sort of guilty look that Sep had only ever seen in interview rooms. ‘Is there something on your mind?’ he asked.

  ‘To be honest, yes. It sounds awful but I was half hoping that Dad had left a will that might have funded Ben through to his Masters.’

  ‘I’m afraid Eli left nothing that I know about.’

  Peter’s guilty look was replaced by a bright smile. ‘Ah well, I needed to ask someone, although I think I was being over-optimistic. Ben works part-time pulling pints in a local pub. He’s a happy lad and there’s no shortage of girlfriends.’

  Sep grinned. ‘Were you thinking Eli might have left a hoard of loot somewhere?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Well, he did have a hoard of IT stuff which he acquired through unusual circumstances.’

  ‘You mean he didn’t pay for them?’

  ‘Erm … no he didn’t. But all that lot went up in the fire. I’d make an insurance claim on it but it might open a very dangerous can of worms.’

  ‘Oh, no. I wasn’t thinking along those lines.’

  ‘If you give me your address I’ll contact you if anything comes to light, although I think it’s a long shot.’

  ‘That’s very good of you.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  ‘Ah, the very man I was hoping to see. Come in.’

  Sandra Boswell had a big smile on her face as she opened the door to Sep’s knock.

  Swinging on his crutches he followed her through into her living room where they both sat down.

  ‘How are you doing? You seem to be healing well.’

  ‘It’s taking its time. But I’ve come to bring you up to date on what’s been happening,’ he told her.

  ‘Well, I know already that James wasn’t meeting a prostitute and that he was just having an affair, which is marginally less seedy.’

  ‘Actually, he wasn’t even having an affair.’

  ‘Are you sure? I need to hear this, Sep.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  Sep gave her Julie’s version of what had happened to James and added, ‘I thought I’d bring you the story before the papers get hold of it.’

  ‘Oh, Sep, that’s wonderful. So, it’ll be in the papers will it? When will that be?’

  ‘When we release the details to the press.’

  Sandra smiled. ‘I suppose that’s good. That repairs James’s reputation and it might stop me getting funny looks from some of the women around here. My poor James. He wasn’t a man of violence, so why did he have a violent death?’ She looked at Sep and added, ‘Now you’re a man of violence and I bet you die in bed in your sleep.’

  ‘Hopefully, but my girlfriend thinks the odds are against it.’

  ‘Anyway,’ she smiled, ‘you’ve done everything I asked of you and my insurance money has come through, so I insist you take the fifty thousand I promised.’

  ‘As it happens, I will. If only to compensate me for a couple of near-death experiences I’ve had recently and to pay for my Jag that was destroyed.’

  ‘Wasn’t it insured?’

  ‘It was but the payout won’t cover its actual value, nowhere near.’

  ‘Well, hopefully the fifty grand will help.’

  ‘It will, but it would be better if my employers didn’t find out about it.’

  ‘You mean the police?’ she said scornfully. ‘Apart
from you, they did nothing to clear James’s name. Your people will certainly get nothing from me. Sep, I need to pay you for this as it will give me complete closure and I’m sure James would approve of us clearing his name.’

  She got to her feet. ‘I’ll write you a cheque right now, then it’s done and dusted.’

  ‘A cheque for fifty grand? I won’t know whether to bank it or get it framed.’

  Sep was at home with Winnie, opening a letter from his insurance company. He’d given himself a week’s further convalescence before he ventured out on the trail of Santiago’s and Boswell’s killer. It had been a week of contemplation and of turning ideas over with Winnie. His hasty proposal of marriage was still hanging in the air and, although he didn’t have the heart to retract it, he wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he didn’t want to commit himself to it either. The horror of her being possibly dead was still with him. He certainly didn’t want to be without her … ever. Was this why he’d proposed? Was this what marriage was all about? Was he an idiot not knowing the answers to these questions? He needed advice here, but who to ask? Fiona, or Hawkins, or Phoebe, his daughter who got on well with Winnie. He was favouring Phoebe when his mind turned to a more immediate problem: the job.

  From what Butterbowl had told him, the man Redman had been working for had stepped into Santiago’s shoes to run the scam. It was therefore a reasonable assumption that he was the one who killed Santiago. But with Redman dead, his lead to that man was also dead. Butterbowl and Roscoe had known next to nothing, as had Wood, who’d been forced to submit himself to a humiliating interview by Sep and Fiona. Sep shook himself out of his thoughts and read the letter.

  ‘They’re allowing me a hire car until my claim’s settled. I’ll give them your details as driver. I don’t expect there’s a clause in my policy that covers my Jag being blown up by a bomb, but it seems they’re going to make me an offer. Mind you. I don’t think the offer will buy me a decent Jag. I loved that car.’

  ‘Buy yourself another.’

  His wandering thoughts turned back to the job again. ‘It might help if we knew exactly how this Snowball scheme worked. Considering who wanted a piece of it, it must be some sort of scam,’ Sep said to Winnie over the breakfast table.

  ‘It could be legal,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, it could, but there are no easy ways of making easy money legally, so I’ll take that with a pinch of salt.’

  ‘Maybe you should hand it over to your own fraud people.’

  Sep allowed his mind to chew this over as he chewed on his bacon. ‘I would, but this is a lot bigger than that. This involves historical murder and that’s our job. I could ask for advice, but right now I don’t even know what questions to ask, apart from the name Snowball, which is supposed to be a dormant company.’

  ‘And do you believe that?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve actually asked an inspector who deals in fraud cases if he’s heard of Snowball and he said he hadn’t, which leads me to believe that it never got off the ground. He was going to ring me back if he did hear anything; so far he hasn’t rung. What I need to do is track down some of these punters who profited from the trial run of the scam,’ he said. ‘They might give me some idea of how it works. Then I can start asking intelligent questions.’

  ‘I know, but how do you track them down? Put an advert in the paper?’

  ‘Hardly. I imagine they’ll know it’s bordering on illegal and they’ll therefore be suspicious of such an advert as being linked to the police. On top of which they’ll know Santiago was murdered. That alone’ll put the wind up them.’

  ‘What about the Hardacre woman?’ Winnie asked.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s involved in this and yet you seem to know nothing about her. It was Adam Piper who mentioned her. She might be worth following up. She might have been a punter and have you ever wondered that if Adam Piper was of value to Santiago it might well be that he’s the brains behind Snowball.’

  ‘It’s crossed my mind, but if it is a scam it’d take a real criminal mind, which I don’t think Adam has.’

  ‘Who knows how his mind works? Up on the intellectual level where he lives he might have a different set of values from the rest of us.’

  ‘True,’ said Sep. ‘He’s certainly a one-off.’

  ‘So, you track down Mrs Hardacre then.’

  Sep gave this some though, then said, ‘No point asking either of the brothers about her.’

  ‘True, but who could we ask?’

  ‘Santiago’s wife. Hardacre might have been a punter, or she might have been one of his bits on the side. The brothers said she was a bit of all right.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put too much faith in their judgement of women,’ said Winnie.

  ‘All the same, it seems Mrs Santiago’s our next lead. Do I give her a ring or do I go round to see her?’

  ‘If you go to see her, I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you told me she fancies you and that they had an open marriage. It sounded to me as if she was offering it to you on a plate and a standing willy has no conscience, even if it’s attached to a cripple.’

  ‘I didn’t say she fancied me. She just asked me if I was married.’

  ‘Same thing.’

  ‘OK, we both go round. Do we take her by surprise or should I ring her first?’

  ‘You’re the copper. Why are you asking me?’

  ‘OK, no phone call, just a copper’s knock. No point letting a witness prepare for a visit.’

  ‘Good. I thought you were going soft for a minute. You must always seek a disadvantage in a woman. Go early, before she’s had a chance to do her hair and put her slap on. She’ll be more concerned about her appearance than making up lies to tell you. Especially if she fancies you.’

  ‘And especially if I’ve got you with me.’

  ‘Why so?’

  Sep knew she was fishing for a compliment and he saw no reason to disappoint her.

  ‘OK … because you’re a lot younger and you’re very good-looking.’

  ‘Not beautiful, then?’

  ‘Same thing.’

  ‘I prefer beautiful. Can I be beautiful?’

  ‘Why not? Anyway, what am I saying? I shouldn’t be involving you in any of this. You’re not a copper and I’ve already got one of my friends involved and killed. I’m not losing you.’

  ‘I thought I was a paid informant.’

  ‘True, but informants only inform. They don’t get involved in any of the legwork.’

  ‘Sep, if anyone needs help with legwork right now it’s you and I wouldn’t have thought it too dangerous for me to come with you to talk to Mrs Santiago. It might put her off her guard, me, a civilian, being with you.’

  ‘OK, you might have a point. Right, I think maybe we should go there with the assumption that Mrs Hardacre was her husband’s mistress. One less hurdle to clear.’

  ‘And if she’s not?’

  ‘If she’s not, she’ll put us right and tell us exactly who she is.’

  ‘Your mind works in a very devious way, Sep.’

  ‘I just like to take shortcuts to the truth; even if it takes a lie to get there. Some witnesses’ll have you going round in circles before they tell the truth.’

  ‘Yeah, I used to be good at that.’

  Sep smiled at some distant memory. ‘So you did.’

  ‘I wonder if there’s a Mr Hardacre on the scene, who doesn’t know about his wife and Santiago?’

  ‘One step at a time, Winnie but it’s worth looking into.’

  ‘It could be Mr Hardacre who killed Santiago.’

  ‘At the moment it could be any number of people. It might even have been Woody, but he had nothing to do with Snowball. He’s heading for Broadmoor, is that man.’

  ‘He’s certainly gone off his rocker since you got him banged up. They had him locked in a rubber room for three days for his own safety. Are you sure he had nothing to do with Snowball,
Sep? From what you tell me he was in a hurry to take charge of the murder investigation when it wasn’t really his job and he was all set to declare it a suicide at first, was he not?’

  ‘He was, yeah.’ Sep thought about this and shook his head in despair. ‘Now you come to mention it, Winnie, I’m not sure of anything or anybody.’

  ‘Not even me?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m definitely sure of you.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Sep’s knock was authoritative and loud enough to make Winnie cringe as she stood beside him at the door. It was seven o’clock in the morning and quite a while before Mrs Santiago opened it. She was indeed without make-up and wearing a dressing gown.

  ‘Ah, I heard you’d been in an accident,’ she observed, looking at his crutches.

  ‘It was no more an accident than your husband falling out of a window, Mrs Santiago. I was injured in a criminal incident with a man called Redman. Did you know him, Mrs Santiago?’ He studied her face carefully as she answered.

  ‘No, it’s not a name I’m familiar with. Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason, other than to tell you he’s dead.’

  His eyes were on hers as he said this, but she gave nothing away. ‘There’s a couple of questions you might be able to help us with,’ Sep added.

  ‘Who’s us?’ asked Mrs Santiago, looking at Winnie.

  ‘Oh sorry, this is my associate Winifred O’Toole. She’s not a police officer, more of a … consultant, so if you’d rather she wait in the car that’s fine.’

  Winnie treated Mrs Santiago to what she thought was a winning smile. She was smartly dressed in a dark, two-piece suit, sensible shoes and her hair tied back in a ponytail; looking for all the world like a plainclothes policewoman. Mrs Santiago looked her up and down and conceded, ‘I suppose it’s OK for her to come in as well.’

  They followed her through to her living room and sat down. ‘So, what’re these questions I can help you with?’

  ‘Well, actually there’s only one question and it concerns a sensitive subject, but you told me you had an open marriage. Was a Mrs Hardacre part of this arrangement?’

  Mrs Santiago smiled. ‘You’re asking if she was one of Charlie’s bits on the side?’