Broken Dreams

by Nick Quantrill

  I didn’t dare look at Don.

  ‘We had to wait until 1998 for our chance’ Branning continued. ‘By then he was a major player but he stepped out of line and beat up his mistress, a woman called Julie Richardson.’ Branning put his pint down and leant in closer. ‘She was known to us as a high end prostitute, so she was given the option of walking away from the game if she agreed to give evidence against him. We had her in a safe house, outside of the city and we learnt more about Salford’s business activities in those few weeks then we’d learnt in years.’

  I was absent-mindedly drumming my fingers on the table top. I’d guessed the ending to the story.

  ‘We got the case to court’ said Branning. ‘He was charged with GBH and he was looking at some serious prison time and that would have given us an opportunity to really go to work on his empire. But on the first day of the trial, she withdrew her statement. Just like that. We thought we had her safe but he got to her. The bastard got to her. The case was out of the window and he walked out of court a free man. He even came up to me and shook me by the hand and wished me better luck next time. After that he tightened up his operations and we never got anywhere near close to him again.’

  ‘That’s when he moved into other areas?’ I asked.

  Branning nodded. ‘He went legitimate on paper. Taxi firm, takeaways, a casino, even. See the link?’

  I nodded. ‘Cash businesses.’ As is the massage parlour, I thought.

  Don took over and opened a file. ‘I’m still working on this, but it appears he’s branched into property in the last few years, becoming some sort of slum landlord.’ He passed over some paperwork to Branning, who shook his head.

  ‘I’ve not heard about this.’

  ‘It’s post your retirement, Gerard. And it’s low key.’

  Branning continued to look at what Don had discovered. ‘Usually the guys at the station keep me in the loop. They know what it means to me.’

  I quietly sipped at my drink. I wasn’t going to be the one who told him his day had been and gone, that his ship had sailed.

  Don continued with his outline. ‘At the moment, it’s a mass of shell companies. It’s proving difficult to pin down exactly what he’s done, but he’s certainly legitimate, on paper at least.’

  I looked at the list of properties Don knew Salford owned.

  Many of them were three and four bedroom terraced houses at the cheaper end of the market and they were spread across the city.

  Branning passed the print-outs back to Don and stood up, ready to leave. ‘You just watch yourself with him, son.’

  Don and I returned to the office following our meeting with Branning. I tried to catch up on the paperwork, but I wasn’t able to concentrate. Don was worried about Salford and told me to leave him to the police. I still felt like I needed fresh air, so I decided to call it a day and walk home. I’d headed down Spring Bank and turned onto Princes Avenue, stopping only for a pint of milk and a night paper. My flat was only a further five minute walk if I hurried. Keeping my head down, I pressed on.

  ‘Got a light?’

  I looked up to see a man stood at the top of the tenfoot which snaked around the back of the house containing my flat. When they were first built, the houses were owned by rich, middle class families but now many had been converted into five or six self-contained flats, with large communal grounds to the rear. I didn’t recognise him, but the people who lived in the area changed almost monthly. I fished around in my pocket until I found my lighter. I didn’t smoke, but I found it useful to carry one in case I spoke to someone who needed a cigarette to calm themselves down. I handed it over and waited for him to light up. Catching me off balance, he grabbed hold of me and I was pulled down the ten-foot and out of sight of the main road. Before I had time to react, a punch to my stomach winded me and I was on the floor, trying to breathe through the pain. Trying to keep my focus on the man, I didn’t see the kick to my back coming and I screamed out in pain. His mate must have been waiting further down the ten-foot. I couldn’t see him, but he pulled my head up by my hair. The man with the cigarette spat and threw a punch that landed square on my nose. Tasting the blood in my mouth, I knew it was broken. The man behind me pulled me back to my feet. He forced my head around until I was looking directly at the man who had punched me.

  ‘Think of this as the friendly warning, knob-head’ he said, before punching me for the final time in my stomach. I collapsed in agony and rolled on to my side, vomiting over the newspaper I’d bought. Closing my eyes, I heard the mens’ shoes on the pavement start to fade as they walked away. I checked my pocket to make sure my wedding ring hadn’t fallen out and then rolled over.

  ‘Joe.’ Sarah looked at me and leant on the frame of her front door. ‘It’s late.’ She was dressed in her pyjamas; I’d woken her.

  I nodded. She was right. I’d picked myself up, staggered into my flat and attempted to clean myself up. I wasn’t able to settle.

  ‘What happened to you?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  She sighed. ‘You’d best come in, then.’

  We walked through the hallway and I heard Lauren shouting, wanting to know what was going on. Sarah ushered me into the front room and said she’d be back once she’d settled her back to sleep. I felt bad. I had no right to be coming here in the middle of the night, waking them up. I’d got myself into this mess, so it was my responsibility to get myself out of it. The truth was, I had nowhere else to turn. More than anything, though, I was frightened.

  Sarah poked her head around the door and said she’d put the kettle on. She’d also put a dressing gown on. I looked around the small room. On top of the television was several framed photographs of Lauren; some with her posing with Sarah in the park, some with Don at a theme park. I smiled; she was a great kid. I jumped when Buttons, their cat leapt onto my knee. I stroked her on the top of her head, just as she liked and listened to her purr. At least somebody was pleased to see me.

  ‘There you go.’ Sarah passed me a cup of coffee. ‘Decaff.’

  ‘They’re great’ I said pointing at the photographs.

  Sarah looked at me. ‘Hopefully she’ll settle back down and be ready for school tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m sorry’ I said, noting her displeasure.

  ‘What happened?’

  I touched my face. The cuts still stung a little, though the swelling was already starting to reduce, to be replaced with bruising. ‘I got jumped on my way home.’

  ‘Jumped?’

  ‘A guy asked me for a light, attacked me and I was dragged down the tenfoot near the flat.’

  ‘Why?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Frank Salford?’ She told me she’d spoken to her father earlier in the evening.

  ‘Makes sense, I suppose. They told me to take it as a warning.’

  ‘Does dad know?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘He’s right, you know. You can’t go around trying to square up to dangerous people like Salford. It’s pointless if it’s not done properly. You’ve got to think things through and plan accordingly.’

  I smiled. It was like listening to Don. I had to agree with her, though. I told her I was still concerned about the police’s interest in me, and how that didn’t exactly encourage me to speak to them. There had been no official developments in the investigation into Jennifer Murdoch’s murder.

  Sarah tried to reassure me. ‘What motive would you have? It’s ridiculous. They’re just tying up loose ends.’

  ‘They’re going to want somebody for it. Her husband is an important man. He’ll know the right people to talk to.’

  ‘They’re hardly going to fit you up, though, are they? It’s not the 1970s. Dad knows them. He won’t let that happen.’

  She was right but I couldn’t think straight. She squeezed my hand and told me I was being paranoid. It didn’t make it feel any better.

  ‘Here’ she said, passing me a duvet. ‘We’ll get these cuts
cleaned up first and then you can sleep down here.’

  I nodded. There was no point in arguing with Sarah. I hoped she was right.

  6

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘What kind of business do you own, Mr Geraghty?’

  ‘It’s a private investigation bureau’ I replied.

  ‘Sounds fascinating.’

  I smiled. She was trying not to stare at the state of my face.

  ‘Sometimes. It’s amazing what you learn.’

  ‘I dare say.’

  She passed me her business card and some publicity literature. I briefly looked through the information about Clancy, Knight and Capebourne Chartered Accountants. Her card read Natalie Buckle.

  ‘Is there anything you need to ask me, Mr Geraghty? Any of our services you’re unsure about?’

  I looked up from the brochures. ‘I need to ask you about Jennifer Murdoch.’ I watched Buckle’s eyes widen. ‘You do know her?’

  She nodded. ‘I can’t believe she’s dead. It’s terrible.’

  ‘I assume you knew her pretty well?’

  ‘Not really. We worked together, that’s all.’

  I leant forward. ‘I’m going to try to help you, Natalie, so don’t lie to me, please.’

  She looked shocked. ‘I’m not lying to you.’

  ‘Okay’ I said, hoping to relax her. ‘You knew Jennifer through work?’

  ‘She doesn’t work here anymore.’

  ‘That’s right. She worked for one of your client’s, Terrence Briggs.’

  Buckle nodded. ‘She left here to go and work for him. It’s not unusual; clients often poach staff from us.’

  ‘You’re not tempted?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I like it here.’

  ‘And I suppose with people like Jennifer leaving you get the chance to advance?’

  ‘That and the fact I passed my exams and work hard.’

  I nodded. ‘Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. You’ve obviously done well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  I got to the point. ‘I understand there was a problem when you audited Briggs’s accounts?’

  Buckle shook her head. ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘Some pretty serious accusations have been made.’

  ‘By Mr Briggs?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who.’ I leant forward again. ‘So far I’ve not spoken to Mr Capebourne or Mr Briggs about this but I might need to change my mind.’ Buckle turned away from me. I got up and closed the door.

  ‘I was stupid’ she eventually said. ‘Please, you’ve got to promise me this’ll go no further.’

  I nodded, but hated myself for the lie. The truth was I didn’t know what she was going to tell me, so I had no idea what I was going to do with the information.

  ‘I went out there to do the audit as normal. It was one I was looking forward to because of Jennifer working there. When I’d been training, it was Jennifer who had taken me under her wing. She was the one who trained me and made sure I knew what I was doing. We also got on well away from work. She was like a big sister, I suppose.’

  ‘What did you find in the accounts, Natalie?’

  ‘It was a chance finding, really. I noticed the company had been drawing petty cash cheques almost every week yet their petty cash book said they only drew one per month.’

  ‘Somebody was going to the bank and cashing these cheques? Walking out of the bank with the money?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I spoke to Jennifer about it.’

  ‘Not Mr Briggs?’

  ‘No. I thought it was more appropriate to go to her first. She was the company accountant.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She took me out for lunch.’

  ‘Lunch?’ Murdoch had some nerve, I thought.

  ‘Away from other people listening. She wanted to do it privately. She told me she had a problem with one of her assistants.’

  ‘Sonia Bray?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know, I didn’t ask.’

  I told her to carry on.

  ‘This assistant had been cashing the cheques and taking the money but she’d only just found out about it. Jennifer said she’d been having some personal problems, stuff with her husband, that kind of thing. So she’d taken her eye off the ball, so to speak. She’d never opened up to me before, so I was flattered she was telling me, I suppose.’

  ‘What was the problem with her husband?’

  ‘Money problems, arguing, the usual kind of stuff. She confessed to me that she wasn’t really doing a good enough job and she’d let this assistant get away with it.’

  ‘And you believed her?’

  Buckle didn’t answer.

  ‘You know what it sounds like, don’t you? Why didn’t you report the matter to Mr Briggs or your manager? Surely you had a responsibility to do that?’ She was upset, but I had little sympathy.

  ‘She asked me for some time, so she could sort it out. The next day she said she could get just under £10,000 back, about half the amount. She said she’d sacked the assistant, so it wouldn’t happen again.’

  ‘And you accepted that?’

  Buckle was barely whispering. ‘She offered me half of the money to not mention it to Briggs.’

  I was trying to process the information. ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘Because she said Briggs would sack her if he found out.’

  ‘But she wasn’t doing her job properly?’

  Buckle shook her head but offered nothing further.

  ‘If it had been her assistant, she didn’t really have to worry too much, surely? You went along with her story, despite knowing it wasn’t true. It doesn’t make sense. You let someone else take the blame. Why would you take the money? You’ve got a good job.’ I shook my head. ‘You’re a qualified accountant; you could lose your qualification, couldn’t you?’

  ‘I needed the money.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I needed the money. Me and my husband had bought a house, just before the property collapse. Our mortgage deal was about to end, he’d lost his job as a builder and we were struggling. Jennifer offered me a way out. I didn’t question it. I suppose I just heard what I wanted to from her.’ She sat up straight and held my stare. ‘We all have money problems, don’t we? I might be lucky enough to have a good job but it’s expensive just getting by.’

  I thought about Sonia Bray. She’d carried the can for Murdoch and had been taken advantage of.

  ‘Why did Jennifer need the money?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I think you do. Even if you were complicit in her deception, you must have wanted to know why. You were putting yourself on the line.’

  I watched her stand and pace around the room. She was biting at her fingernails. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Are you going to tell Mr Capebourne? If he finds out, he’ll sack me. I’ll lose my job, my qualification, everything.’

  I stood up. ‘I need to know why Jennifer needed the money.’

  ‘She was gambling. She’d joined a casino. I think her husband had taken her there once and she’d got the bug for it. She told me she’d got into some trouble but her half of the money would clear her and she’d seek help. I wanted to help her.’ She turned to me. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

  ‘You’ve got a nerve, Joe.’

  I flashed her what I hoped was a winning smile but she was right. Jane was sort of an ex, and I hadn’t spoken to her in a long time.

  ‘You messed me around, never returned my calls and then you pitch up here expecting my help. Unbelievable.’

  I passed her a menu. We were sat in a quiet corner of The Corn Exchange, a pub close to the office. It was late afternoon and I’d spent the last couple of hours delivering warrants. The kind of bread and butter work which keeps our he
ads above water. I wasn’t hungry but it was the only way I could get her to agree to meet me. ‘I hear the fish and chips are good.’ I placed my wet coat on the back of my chair. So much for the sunshine.

  She shook her head. ‘You certainly know how to treat a girl, don’t you?’

  I sipped at my diet coke. ‘I know...I should have called you.’

  ‘Save it, Joe.’ She flashed a smile at me. ‘Water under the bridge.’

  I hoped it was true. A mutual friend had introduced us and I’d felt pressurised into asking her out on a date. In truth, I’d had mixed feelings about it. On one hand Jane is an attractive divorcee in her late thirties with everything going for her. On the other hand, it all felt far too soon after Debbie’s death. The date had been set up with good intentions, but I was surprised how unprepared I felt. The body was willing but other parts of me less so. When I remembered Jane worked for Christopher Murdoch, I’d made the call. It had felt embarrassing but needs must.