Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  Dougie gave him a straight look. ‘Well I’m still the law. But not for much longer,’ he amended. ‘Almost time to quit now.’

  ‘Are you living back this way? I’ve seen you drinking in here several times on your own.’ Henshaw gave a short laugh. ‘Wondered if you were looking for someone.’

  ‘No, I don’t live around here. I just come to… keep in touch with the past.’

  ‘I’m all the way retired now. Used to work for Jack Ellison. He packed it in a long time ago now, of course. Let that little so and so Johnny Carter have the run in the eighties. Now, there’s one person I wouldn’t work for. Had the chance, but he could play rough, or he had people do it for him. Knew one or two of them. Paid well, but I wasn’t prepared to get into deep water for him. He was supposed to have some influential friends. Liked the ladies too, and they did alright out of it, as long as they put up with what he wanted! No, I was better off with Jack Ellison, he always knew just how far to go. You know, its funny, but I formed the impression that he had a certain respect for the law. Even went to the funeral of a copper killed in some domestic argument back in the late seventies. I went along as one of his minders. Yeah, funny that!’

  Henshaw didn’t notice the reaction his words had on his companion.

  ‘Well, it’s been nice to have a chat. Brought back some memories. Perhaps I’ll come across you here again.’

  Dougie managed a faint smile and a nod, his mind too full with the memories conjured up by what he had just heard. Would it ever go away? No, not until he had the courage to do something about it. He thought again about Henshaw. Was that why he kept coming here, hoping he would meet someone who knew about those days, from the other side? He banged his glass down on the table, slopping some of the beer over his hand. By Christ, he’d do it! He’d meet Henshaw again and find out all he knew and maybe, just maybe, there might still be something he could do.

  *

  Peter lay on his bed, looking at the ceiling, music playing in the background. His father’s music. He had attended his interview earlier in the day, and to his amazement, and relief, was offered the vacant position straight away. Jonathan Raven’s friend appeared to be impressed with his qualifications, and made light of his change in career direction, commenting, with a cheerful grin, that he would never have suited Court work either. Peter liked the outline of the job he would be expected to do, and met one or two of his new colleagues, who seemed keen that he should start as soon as possible. As he was free, he offered to come in the next day.

  The first thing he did was to send a text to Christa, letting her know his good news. All he received in reply was a smiley face. It was typical of her sense of humour.

  He heard a car arriving and knew Sarah was home. He wanted to ask her if he could borrow the car. He now had to confront Lionel. He had been trying to work out what to say to him about the Ravens episode. There were questions to be asked, but should he make any accusations? After all, Lionel was no longer a young man. In the end, he decided to just wait and see the reaction to his news, and take his cue from there. He was now so keen to start the new job that it no longer even seemed to matter.

  He was, however, relieved that he had something good to tell Sarah. Both she and Jerry had taken the sudden change in his situation pretty well. He climbed the stairs up to the kitchen. Sarah looked up from unpacking her shopping, and gave him a smile.

  ‘Oh good, you’re around. I’d kill for a cup of tea!’

  ‘Perhaps we ought to make it stronger than that. I’ve a new job.’

  He watched the look of relief cross her face, and she came and gave him a hug.

  ‘I’m so pleased for you Peter. I’m sure this will all work out for the best now. A new millennium, and a brand new start.’

  ‘Let’s hope so, I’m quite looking forward to it. I’ll get the kettle on, shall I? Oh, by the way, Sarah, could I borrow the car tonight?’

  ‘Are you going to celebrate with Christa?’

  He paused in the act of filling the kettle. ‘Well, no. I’ve already sent her a text. I was going somewhere else.’

  There was a sudden silence in the room. He turned around and Sarah was standing looking at him, her face now pale and anxious.

  ‘I had a feeling you didn’t tell us everything about this matter. Franklin’s behind it all isn’t he. Is he telling you what to do again?’ Her voice sounded sharp and accusing.

  Peter had made a conscious decision to be economical with the truth about Ravens, and he might have guessed that Sarah, in particular, would have picked up on this. However, he didn’t want another fight, so he just smiled at her.

  ‘Jonathan Raven put forward my name for this job, Sarah, and I must have measured up. Out of courtesy I need to inform Lionel about the changes, and like you, I hope he’ll think it’s for the best.’

  As he turned back to his task, he could see from the worried look in her eyes and the nervous way she had of playing with her hair that she remained unconvinced, and that his words had failed to reassure her.

  *

  Once Lionel Franklin recovered from his initial annoyance at the unexpected turn of events, and exasperation that the boy was shooting about like a loose cannon, he reflected on the situation and saw an advantage in what he had just been told. After all, there were other barristers who had, and would, dance to his tune; ones with experience, as well. If Peter was now to move in the moneyed world of corporate dealings, there might be even more opportunities presenting themselves.

  ‘I must say, this is something of a shock, Peter. I did warn you about the Ravens. They seem to have a particular way they like to run things.’ He studied the young man. ‘So they just thought that, after all, you were unsuitable?’

  He noted Peter had said nothing about any difficulties with the papers being found in one of his files. Perhaps he had come across them himself and just destroyed them… but he knew the boy was too intelligent not to recognise them for what they were. Curious, though: he had at least expected some questioning. Perhaps the Ravens had decided not to bring the matter out into the open, and dismissed him through the back door without creating a fuss.

  ‘There was a discussion, Lionel, with the outcome I’ve told you. Now I just want to concentrate on this new start.’

  So, it appeared that he was still in the boy’s good books, thought Franklin. And he needed to keep it that way. Perhaps Peter was just trying to humour him by not making a scene of any kind; another example of his emotional attachment.

  ‘Well, one thing about moving into the corporate field is that you can make some useful investment contacts. With the money you have coming your way, you could do very well for yourself. Remember that, Peter. Over the years, Hamilton, Villiers and I have all made useful contacts. I’ll be interested in how you get on.’

  Heading home, Peter wondered why he had decided not to confront Lionel. Was he just a coward? The bottom line was that he still couldn’t bring himself to think that there had been anything deliberate in Lionel’s actions, however mystifying. He had seemed calm enough when told the news, and about the eventual outcome. In fact, he’d appeared pleased that he was going into this other branch of the law. As Lionel had said, he might make some useful contacts, for himself as well as his new employers. He couldn’t wait to begin.

  *

  Dougie saw his quarry coming into the pub, and beckoned him over. Not weakening in his decision to start his enquiries, he had now tried on two occasions to meet up with Henshaw. Third time lucky!

  ‘Well, Dougie, we seem to be congregating here again. Just been speaking outside to another old face.’

  Dougie kept his expression blank. ‘An old colleague?’

  ‘Funny you should say that. He used to be on Clarke’s payroll, but changed horses to Ellison about the time, like I mentioned to you, when that copper was killed. I can remember he always got off the subject prett
y smartish. Still, it’s never wise to discuss certain things, if you get my drift.’

  Dougie prodded some more. ‘He must know quite a bit about Clarke’s affairs.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say. But as I said, you learn not to talk about them. If Clarke got to hear about it, you’d get a visit one night, like he did to that other poor sod a few years ago. It must have been nice for you lot to get him banged up for something.’

  Dougie remembered his own satisfaction on hearing that Clarke had been caught and charged with grievous bodily harm, and sent to do a stretch at Her Majesty’s pleasure. He looked at his companion.

  ‘Like I said, I’m finishing soon. Just going through some old files and tying up loose ends. You said before that, on the whole, Clarke didn’t do his own dirty work, he had others do it for him?’

  ‘Oh sure, same as Ellison. You don’t have a dog and bark yourself. I admit I’ve leant on a number of people in my time, but like I said, Ellison would allow it to go so far, and that was it. Clarke was a different ball game. I’m pretty sure Monty didn’t get into the heavy stuff for Clarke, but I bet he has a few ideas who did.’ He gave Dougie a shrewd look. ‘You want me to introduce you to him, don’t you?’

  Dougie returned his look. ‘He might be able to fill in one or two blanks. Like I said, tidying up old files.’

  Henshaw finished his beer. ‘I might have a word with him. Can’t promise anything, though.’

  Dougie tried not to show his sudden excitement.

  ‘No, of course not. I’ll make it worth his while. Shall we say same time next week? I’ll stand the drinks.’

  In the intervening week Dougie made a point of seeking out a retired colleague who had been involved with the Lucille Prentice case. He confirmed the suspicions noted on the file, that Clarke had been behind it, but there was no proof. His very convenient alibi for the time period involved was cast iron, and nothing had emerged to incriminate anyone else. Various men she had known, besides Clarke, had all been interviewed and discounted for one reason or another. Dougie also took the opportunity of speaking to him about the circumstances of the Fenton death. Although not involved, his former colleague took the view that it was just an accidental fire causing an unfortunate death. Why the deceased had not made his escape from the premises while he still could was perhaps a little odd. He then put forward the idea that Fenton might have tried to put the fire out and left his escape too late, or for some reason had passed out having by some chance started the fire himself. When the building collapsed there would have been very little evidence left for anyone to find. The authorities had, after all, passed it off in this way.

  Good reasoning, Dougie thought, but viewing it all from his standpoint he was certain that a real professional had been involved. Someone so good at his craft that, as yet, he was invisible to the law.

  *

  Henshaw was sitting alone at a corner table when, as arranged, Dougie entered the pub. He bought his beer and crossed over to him.

  ‘Evening. On your own, I see.’

  ‘I had a word, as promised. Monty’s not too keen.’

  ‘Did you tell him it would be worth something to him?’

  ‘Oh yeah, but that won’t go far if you find yourself in a dark alley with your legs smashed up.’

  Dougie felt he had to push the matter. ‘I’m not asking him to walk into a police station. I’m sure we can find a way of not being observed.’

  Henshaw studied him for a moment or two.

  ‘This is important, isn’t it. Not just clearing old cases.’

  ‘It’s a bit of both. Now, this is my idea…’

  CHAPTER 16

  For a Saturday night there was quite a good crowd, Dougie thought, looking at the people milling around. Greyhound racing wasn’t as popular as it used to be, and some areas of the Walthamstow track were showing it, although the large neon stadium sign still advertised it as a going concern. He leant against the fence close to the starting traps, pulling his yellow scarf up round his ears in the brisk wind. They were parading the dogs for Race Two. He had put a bet on number four as a whim, because of the name, ‘Catherine’s Folly’.

  He felt someone wedge in against him, and moved over to give the person more room.

  ‘You’ll never get anything back on number four, it’s too long in the tooth. Number one’s the bet here.’

  Dougie didn’t turn his head.

  ‘Monty?’

  ‘Yeah. I saw you with your yellow scarf in the betting area. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a bit. Making sure you’re alone.’

  The loud speakers announced the start of Race Two. The traps sprang open and the dogs were running. True enough, number one was the winner, with number four coming in a good last. Dougie tore his betting slip into pieces and let them drift to the ground. His companion clapped him on the back and took his arm.

  ‘Come on, let’s get my winnings and I’ll treat you to a tea.’

  They stood together drinking their tea, out of earshot of people in the queue still waiting to be served. For the first time, Dougie regarded the man standing beside him. He was a year or two younger than himself, medium height and build. In other words, ordinary; wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. There was, however a certain air about him which, to anyone in the know, warned you not to take him for granted.

  ‘Ron said you wanted to talk about the old days.’

  ‘Yeah. Trying to tie up some loose ends.’

  ‘Such as what? Something specific?’

  ‘Clarke. The sort of things he used to get up to, round about the late seventies.’

  ‘Looking back, I think he’d consider those were his best days. At the time, a lot of his fame came from the police suspecting him of being involved in things but never having enough to pin on him. He did alright when Ellison backed right off, but Johnny’s star is beginning to wane a bit now. He’s getting past it, younger people coming in. Mark you, I’m not sure even that would quieten him down: he’s still a maniac. Lost a lot of credibility, though, when he did that stretch.’

  ‘You moved on, I believe.’

  ‘I was putting two and two together and didn’t want to be caught up in it. Took a risk and changed horses. Made me look over my shoulder for a bit, I can tell you. Pretty pointless, I wouldn’t have known much about it if Clarke had given the order.’

  Dougie finished the rest of his tea and threw the paper cup into the waste bin beside him. Perhaps a bit of pressure was in order.

  ‘Who would he have given the word to?’

  ‘That’s what this is all about, is it?’

  Monty disposed of his cup and walked off. Dougie kept pace with him.

  ‘I’ve come to the conclusion that Clarke had a professional – I mean, a real professional – working for him. Someone who’s managed to keep himself out of the spotlight.’

  They were leaning back on the rail again, the loudspeakers drowning out their conversation.

  ‘You’re not wrong. I had an idea, just an idea, about someone but it was safer not to ask too many questions.’

  Dougie decided now was the time.

  ‘I’m interested in a particular night when the top man in the Met was in a fatal accident, and also a policeman and his wife were wasted in Fulham.’

  There was silence for a while.

  ‘I somehow had the feeling you were coming to that. That was the time I decided to quit. Too heavy for me, and I was too close in for comfort.’

  ‘What do you know of it?’

  ‘I was asked last minute, urgent, to provide a fast car and have it parked with keys left in it outside a hotel at a particular time. We had a stolen vehicle suitable, tucked away in a lock-up. I was then instructed to be around to pick up a certain person outside the Fulham football ground in the small hours of the next morning. I read the newspapers the next day and came to a few conclus
ions.’

  ‘Who was the person you picked up?’

  Monty turned and looked at Dougie, and in the dim light his face looked strained.

  ‘Even after all this time, you’re asking a lot, you know. If I’m right, he still gives me the shivers.’

  ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’

  Dougie moved his scarf aside and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He partially revealed a bundle of bank notes and made sure Monty had a good look.

  There was silence between them again.

  ‘He used to work for Clarke in one of his betting shops. Worked irregular hours, often disappearing for a day or two, and nothing was ever said. I saw him once or twice at Clarke’s house. Never got into casual conversation with him. He was pretty closed off. He’s the one I picked up from Fulham that night.’

  ‘I need a name, Monty.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m not going that far. When I left I ought to have been taken care of with what I knew, but it must have been considered I could keep my mouth shut. That’s still the case. I’ll help you so far, because the copper’s wife should have been left alone, in my book. The person you’re after is about ten years younger than me. Used to drive a clapped-out Merc. I know he was married, but I don’t know anything more. Now that’s all!’

  Dougie moved closer and passed him the notes.

  ‘Thanks, Monty.’

  He turned away and merged in with the crowds, watching the final race of the evening.

  *

  Franklin was again thinking about the girl. He had come to the conclusion that Peter would not react as hoped to the suggestion that she was motivated by greed. At their meeting he had sensed the strength of will in her, and it was obvious that this was being communicated to Peter. She had to be encouraged to go back to Canada; as soon as possible. It was just a few months before Peter’s twenty-fifth birthday and the boy was nowhere near satisfactory material yet. Yes, he needed her out of the running. Now.