Hot Blood (Bloodwords Book 1)

by Vic Marelle

  ‘You’ve not touched your juice after asking for it.’

  If, as she had asked, Simon had put ice cubes in her drink, and she had no doubts that he would have done, either the juice had been quite warm or some time had elapsed since he had made it for her. Looking down, she saw that there was no indication of however many ice cubes there had been, for they had completely melted and with condensation running down its side, her tumbler of juice was sitting in a pool of water.

  ‘I’m sorry Simon, I didn’t realise that it was there. I must have been miles away.’

  ‘You were my love,’ he replied, standing at the side of her in the open doorway. ‘When I came back out you had already dozed off so I put your drink down at your side. I had my coffee then went back in to check a couple of my eBay sales on-line. You’ve had almost an hour so you must have been jiggered.’ Squatting down at the side of her he added, ‘Do you want to nip up to the Ship for lunch, or shall we drive out to the Queen’s Head?’

  ‘I’d rather stay here if that’s OK with you.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ he replied with a confident smile on his face. ‘I can soon rustle something up.’

  Inwardly he appreciated her choice. That she preferred to stay with him in his house rather than eat out he found rather comforting. Yet he was only too aware that he could be reading more into her present mood than there was, that she could just be tired out in the aftermath of a busy workload. And there was still the uncertainty about her job hanging over her anyway.

  ‘I’m not hungry yet,’ she added, ‘bring your drink and sit out here with me for a bit. I’ll bring you up to date.’

  ‘I finished my drink ages ago,’ he replied, sitting next to her, ‘but you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to you know, have a rest and recharge your batteries.’

  ‘I can see why you love it here Simon, it’s so relaxing.’ Then turning to him with an expression that he couldn’t quite identify: neither sad, happy nor cheeky but possibly with an element of all three, she added, ‘I really want to put it all behind me but I need to talk it over with you first because you were instrumental in cracking the cases in so many ways.’

  ‘And putting your job at risk Debbie. I can neither forget nor forgive myself for that.’

  ‘That was as much down to me as you,’ she replied. ‘You asked but I didn’t need to do anything did I? I knew the rules and the risks.’

  The implication was clear. She had done it for him. Picking up her juice she took a long swig, water dropping off the bottom of the glass onto her blouse, creating a wet patch that grew as the water continued to drop.

  ‘I couldn’t accept that Frank was a bent copper,’ she said. ‘I worked with him for a couple of years – as the senior officer I worked closely with he was my mentor I suppose – and I couldn’t think of him as anything other than straight up. Still can’t for that matter.’ Turning to face him she smiled. ‘That taught me a lot actually. You just can’t take people at face value can you? I don’t trust anyone anymore, even those I’ve known for ages.’

  ‘Well, that puts me in my place I suppose.’

  ‘Don’t be silly Simon. You know what I mean. The Frank Davies thing has got me confused but Don Radcliffe must feel betrayed. He taught Frank a lot, rather like Frank mentoring me, but look how it turned out.’

  Taking another sip of juice, she pondered the implications of her words: the reality of life as a police officer where normal family life just did not exist, and couldn’t exist. Continually one would be analysing everyday situations, unable to accept people without detailed scrutiny. Unable to even form personal relationships without scrutinising every comment and every action. Yet there could be no alternative. Now that Frank’s split personality had been etched into her brain so indelibly, his subterfuge seemingly so perfect, whatever she did in life from this point on she would be unable to accept people without keeping them at arms length until their integrity had been established. It would become a heavy burden to carry.

  ‘The Chief was furious about leaks and read the riot act, but Don realised that the only people privy to all the information were himself, Frank and the Chief. When some details of the car thefts started coming through, Frank must have been worried that his partner in crime, Brian Bradshaw-Smith, would become a suspect so he set Steve Wilson up, you know, the first suspect Don brought in and questioned. Frank hoped that because Wilson’s wife had a ringed car and Wilson a car repair business, he would get identified for the lot and the heat would then be off Bradshaw-Smith. Don quickly realised what was going on, although he still thought Frank was just the leak. Then Bradshaw-Smith was brought in and made a few references to things that Frank had also mentioned, things that neither Bradshaw-Smith nor Frank should have known. Don picked that up and put it all together from there.’

  ‘So why didn’t your DCI just suspend Frank?’

  ‘Lack of proof. Don had his suspicions but Complaints couldn’t have done anything without some sort of evidence. Don’s suspicions were confirmed when we were waiting to hit the college and you phoned me with Frank’s registration.’

  ‘Was that Davies’ Jag at the back of the convoy?’

  ‘Yes. He doubled back and linked up with Don and Kyle to go in to the college. The caretaker then identified Frank’s photo as being Fraser Downing, though he didn’t know his name and just referred to him as Boss Man. Don then had to find a way to keep him away from the investigation so he went to the Chief with his theory. Handy couldn’t authorise anything on his own so Don had to take it to HQ.’

  ‘Who’s Handy?’

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector Handley,’ she replied with a chuckle. ‘His nickname is Handy Andy, but for God’s sake don’t ever call him that or he’ll skin me alive.’

  ‘I doubt that I will ever mix in such exalted company, so don’t worry.’

  ‘HQ dreamed up the conference policing project that kept Frank out of circulation. Don worked it so that Frank was in the office when we had a briefing. That was weird actually because after Frank had left for a meeting with the Chief, Don changed all the details of the operation. Apparently the Chief gave Frank the afternoon off – that gave him the opportunity to muster his troops and start to get the cars away. In the first briefing Don had said we would hit the farm but the actual operation was centred on the Scarisbrick warehouse.’

  ‘That was cunning Debbie.’

  ‘Frank was being watched all the time and once everything was running, Handley called him back in, kept him out of circulation in the office then sent him to the Ramada. He thought that he was meeting with two Home Office officials and two HQ guys but all four were from HQ, keeping him out of circulation and away from his car long enough for CSI to check it over. As well as the forged V5 documents from the warehouse at Scarisbrick, they found Peter Archer’s wallet and other items that linked him not just with all three of the dead bodies but with Bradshaw-Smith as well. Then when all of the drivers identified both Frank and Bradshaw-Smith it was really sewn up.’

  ‘So what happened to the cars, where have they disappeared to? And has it been established who was actually responsible for the three deaths?’

  ‘Frank and Brian Bradshaw-Smith. Frank had the forensics knowledge and almost got away with it. Actually, he covered their tracks pretty well, but once things started to come unstuck, CSI found lots of evidence. They always used their pseudonyms within the group so the others only knew Frank as Fraser Downing and Brian as Edward. Frank was clever in not ever touching any of the cars they nicked, but Don had been watching him throughout the hit on the college car store and there were prints in the college in places he knew that Frank hadn’t been. Two officers were inside the Scarisbrick warehouse and photographed him directing the operation and part of a car VIN plate was found in his boot that matched another piece picked up by DS Fraser in the caravan park workshop.

  ‘When Rick Worth came round he spilled the beans. He had been dragged in because he wanted to raise s
ome quick cash to set up home with his girlfriend. He used to doctor the car idents at Peter Archer’s workshop. When Archer found out what was happening he tried to get money from Frank – although he didn’t know who he really was of course – to keep his mouth shut. Frank offered him big money if he would change some chassis numbers and then put the lift down on him when he was doing it. Hey presto, blackmailer out of the way.’

  ‘Bloody hell, that’s brutal.’

  ‘Very. Rick himself tried to get out a couple of times but was threatened and carried on reluctantly. The last straw came when Bradshaw-Smith expected him to doctor Councillor Ashworth’s Bentley – that was the car we chased from the MotorFest, remember?’

  ‘Do I? I’ll never forget that day. It was Frank in the Scooby holding us up wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was. Rick’s girlfriend was the councillor’s daughter so that put him in quite a spot. Bradshaw-Smith knocked off Krawiec and set up the fake car crash then Frank did Lewinelsky. It was quite a slick operation actually. On that last day they were observed and photographed all the way through from moving the cars out of the Scarisbrick warehouse, loading them into the containers and then the trucks driving to the port. The drivers and Bradshaw-Smith were all picked up once the trucks had left but Frank was left to drop himself further in the mire. The transport company was all legit so HQ and dock security just waited until the containers had been checked in and the trucks were on their way back to Yorkshire before they moved in. The containers had been declared as household effects bound for Famagusta, the Northern Cyprus port, and when they were opened that’s what it looked like. The first few feet were packed to the top with boxes but when they were removed, behind them were cars. There were six containers altogether, all packed the same way. The authorities in Cyprus have been alerted, so with a bit of luck the Cyprus end will also be nabbed.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought that there would be enough buyers on such a small island.’

  ‘Well, we won’t know for sure until the whole thing is complete, but from what we can see, the household effects and a couple of cars are likely to be offloaded but the rest of the cars will be re-exported as legitimate car exports. We don’t yet know where to. Cyprus is just the place where they get a new legality. The north of the island is known as TRNC and is not in the EU so the systems are quite different. Frank and Brian seem to have made it work quite profitably.’

  ‘So where does all that leave you then? You used to work with Frank so you’ve no boss, no partner. And has your job security changed? I hope that it has because I feel awfully responsible.’

  Looking out over the fields she shivered. They had been talking for ages and the sun had already disappeared behind a hill, the temperature dropping appreciably. Simon put his arm around her shoulders protectively and she leaned in to him, welcoming his warmth.

  ‘You were responsible in a way, but you were also responsible for some of the leads. At first I was a bit miffed when the Chief put Sean with Frank, although I didn’t want to be put on the conference thing either. It was a bit confusing. Then when Don briefed us I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t see Frank doing any of that at all. But as it all came together it became a challenge. Actually, I admire the way Don handled it all. He saw it through and managed to protect me as well.’

  ‘Tucking her legs under her and leaning her head on his shoulder she continued. ‘What the future will bring I don’t know. I have to go through to Liverpool next week for an interview. Don and the Chief both say I’ve nothing to worry about but I’m not confident.’

  ‘But surely all the good work you did and the leads we gave them must count for something? Won’t that overshadow your little indiscretion checking the DVLA for me?’

  ‘If only,’ she replied. ‘Doing that isn’t just a little indiscretion; it’s a sackable offence with no questions asked. The Chief said that with a little care he could possibly have hidden it but that if he had, then for the rest of my career I would have been looking over my shoulder. If anyone brought it out of the woodwork it would have spelled big trouble. I don’t know what he’s done about it, just that I have an interview at HQ next week. Nobody at my level has interviews at HQ; a DI or DCI always sees us at our own stations so I am expecting some sort of wrap on the knuckles. I could get pushed back to DC, thrown back to uniforms – or out of the Force completely.’

  ‘Well I don’t think they can do anything like that if they’ve a heart at all. But in any case, if it’s not till next week then for now you will just have to do what you can to put it all out of your mind,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘Heavens, have you seen the time? We still haven’t eaten. I’ll go and get cooking.’ He stood up, looking at her in the dusk. ‘How much time have we got? What time do you need to go?’

  ‘Oh, there’s no rush Simon. Actually, I’m very happy here.’

  Acknowledgements

  Without the support of more people than could be mentioned here, or the marvellous technology that has made eBook publishing possible, this novel would never have seen the light of day, so I would like to thank all my numerous supporters collectively, as well as Amazon Kindle, Apple iBooks, Kobo and Palm.

  But some must be identified. My major debt is to my wife. By necessity, intensive research and the writing of any novel takes time and impacts greatly on day-to-day life. As ever, Janet coped with constant irregularity throughout. Thanks also to our son, Martin, a CSI with the police (though not in the area in which my book is set), who looked over my shoulder to ensure that I did not drop a forensic hot potato.

  Peter Jones and Kevin Groom were also ever present crutches as the story developed; I hope that this final version meets the expectations they clearly expressed through the reading of numerous ever changing draft stages and I thank them for their words of support along the way.