by John R McKay
Lange hated the waiting. ‘Roger Moore’ had told him to await further instructions relating to the failed hit last week and all this sitting around the house was starting to get on his nerves. There were things he could be doing. He was to arrange a shipment of weapons from the continent for an associate who he had done work for before and could really do with going over to see Ivan in Amsterdam to take control. However, ‘Roger’ had instructed him not to leave London until he was told differently. Normally he would have ignored anyone trying to give him orders but then this guy was somewhat different to most of the other people he dealt with. ‘Roger’ knew who he was, where he lived, all about him, and more worryingly, about his mother. The only thing he could do was to make sure that any future jobs he did for him went without a hitch, like all those he had previously carried out. He needed to prove to him that the mess a week last Friday was a one off, a bad day at the office so to speak.
There was a knock at the door. Lange walked to the window and looked out. A police car was parked outside the house and a uniformed policeman was standing at the door. Another policeman was sitting in the car. Lange pulled back instinctively from the window, out of their view.
Shit, shit, shit, he thought. What could they possibly want? There was no way they could know about his dealings, surely. Or any of the hits. He wracked his brains. Was there anything he had done recently that could possibly end up with the police coming round to the house to arrest him? He could not think of anything. Then it dawned on him that if they wanted to arrest him there would be more of them and they would have knocked the door in by now.
There was another knock. He looked out of the window again and saw that the second policeman had left the car and was looking at his BMW that was parked on the driveway. Sean took a breath, put on his glasses and went to open the front door.
‘Hello,’ he said to the first policeman with a smile. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Sorry to trouble you sir,’ said the officer. ‘Are you Mister Sean Lange?’
‘I am.’
‘Hi, I’m PC Jeff Greenhough. Would it be possible to come inside for a couple of minutes? We need to ask you a couple of questions relating to your car.’
Shit, shit, shit. ‘Yes of course, officer,’ he smiled. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Probably not Mr Lange,’ replied PC Greenhough. ‘Just routine. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.’
Lange led the policeman into the front room. He glanced out of the window and could see the second policeman still looking at the car.
‘What’s this about?’ he asked, indicating for Greenhough to sit down on the sofa.
‘We need to ask you a couple of questions as to your whereabouts last Friday night.’
‘Sean, Sean,’ shouted his mother from upstairs.
‘Yes mother,’ shouted Lange, not taking his eyes off Greenhough.
‘Who’s that you’ve got with you down there?’
‘It’s the police, mother.’
‘What the bloody hell do they want?’
‘Nothing to worry about. I’ll come up when they’ve gone.’
PC Greenhough smiled. Lange said, ‘Sorry about that. She’s virtually bedridden I’m afraid. I look after her when I’m not working.’
‘Right,’ said Greenhough. ‘Can you tell me where you were a week ago last Friday? The seventh of September.’
Sean went cold. Shit, think. ‘Let me think,’ said Lange. ‘I would have probably been here, I think. Why do you ask?’
‘Did you lend your car to anyone at all?’
‘No. Why do you ask?’ he repeated.
‘A black BMW with your registration plate was caught on a speed camera outside Wigan in Greater Manchester. We have reason to believe that the driver may be a witness to a fatal hit and run that happened that night.’
Shit. This was getting worse. ‘I can assure you, officer, that that would not have been me or my car. I have never been to Wigan in my life and have no reason to ever go to Wigan. I’m not even too sure where it is’
‘Have you received a notification relating to any speeding offence?’
Lange looked to the window sill. He had piled all the mail from the last few days there without looking at it. Most of it was junk mail.
‘No.’
‘Maybe it’s still in the post then,’ replied Greenhough.
‘Maybe,’ said Lange. ‘It sounds to me that my car has probably been cloned.’
‘It looks that way,’ replied Greenhough. ‘Sorry to have been of trouble to you,’ he said, getting up from the sofa. ‘I won’t waste any more of your time.’
‘That’s no problem,’ said Lange.
‘Is it OK if we just take a quick look at your car, Mr Lange?’ asked Greenhough, ‘just a formality you understand.’
‘Sure, no problem.’
He retrieved the car keys from the kitchen and then led Greenhough out of the front door to where the second policeman was standing on the driveway next to the BMW.
‘Can you turn on the engine for me?’ asked Greenhough.
‘Sure,’ said Lange, getting into the car. He put the keys in the ignition and turned on the engine. Greenhough and the other policeman then walked around the car, their eyes fixed on the vehicle. What the hell are they doing, he thought?
‘Can you switch on your lights, please?’
‘No problem.’ Lange turned on the lights.
‘OK Mister Lange,’ said Greenhough after a while. ‘You can get out now and we’ll leave you in peace.’
Lange got out of the car and stood on the driveway facing them.
‘Like you say, Mister Lange, it looks like your car was probably cloned. It’s not uncommon. We’ll leave you now but if we need to be in touch again could I just take your mobile phone number?’
‘Sure,’ said Lange and gave him the number, which Greenhough wrote down in his notebook.
‘Thanks a lot,’ said Greenhough walking back to the police car with his colleague. ‘Oh by the way…..’
‘Yes.’
‘You have a light not working above your registration plate at the back. Can you make sure you get it sorted out?’
‘Will do. Thanks.’
Lange went back into the living room and looked out at the police car.
‘Sean, Sean.’
‘In a minute mother,’ he shouted back, irritated. ‘In a minute.’
The police car did not move for over two minutes, the policemen inside, talking and looking at their notebooks. Sean felt extremely uneasy. This was the first time ever that they had come knocking at his door. And why were they so interested in his car? What other mistakes had he made up in Manchester? It must be the Cooke lad. It had to be. When he called over to make sure it was he who was coming out of the pub. What was he thinking? He was a professional. However, he realised that he had done a totally amateur thing and if he wasn't careful it was going to lead to his downfall. He had just lied to the police and Danny Cooke could possibly prove the lie if he recognised him. But then, Sean had stayed in the shadows and Cooke could not possibly have any idea of what he looked like. Could he?
Lange took a breath. He was now starting to panic and that was not good. He needed to keep calm. Rationalise. Stick to his story. But then the police had been happy with what he had told them. Hadn’t they?
He realised that there was one thing that he now had to do. No matter what ‘Roger Moore’ had instructed or said, Danny Cooke had to be eliminated.
#
In the car, heading back to the police station Greenhough turned to his colleague. ‘My God. What was he like?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was a right geek, don’t you think? Did you see the clothes he was wearing? And those glasses too. And he can’t be more than thirty two. Jesus.’
‘Some funny ones about that’s for certain. What do you think, though, of his story?’
‘Total bollocks. Cloned car, my arse,’ replied Greenhough. ‘The informa
tion from GMP says the car they’re looking for had a defective back light above the registration plate. That’s why I got him to switch all his lights on. And lo and behold, his car has the same light out. I’ve heard of cloning cars, but that’s ridiculous.’
‘Could be a coincidence.’
‘Yeah right. Course it could! I’ll give GMP a ring when we get back and see where they want to go from here. CID might want to take a closer look at this Sean Lange character.’
#
‘Hi. Is that Detective Constable Julie Green?’
‘Speaking.’
‘It’s PC Jeff Greenhough here from the Metropolitan Police.’
‘Oh hello. Nice to hear from you so soon.’
‘Yes Julie. I was given the job of interviewing Sean Lange for you in relation to the fatal hit and run near Wigan.’
‘That’s right. How did it go? What can you tell me?’
‘A bit of a strange character to be honest. He claims he’s never been anywhere near Wigan in his life and it couldn’t possibly be him. Claims to have been at home on the night. Says his car may have been cloned.’
‘It’s possible. Do you think he was telling the truth?’
‘No I don’t. I think he was lying through his teeth to be honest.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘A couple of things. Firstly it’s just the way he was. He was nervous as hell when I spoke to him and I could sense he was lying. Call it intuition. Secondly I checked the lights on his car and found that one of the lights was out on the rear registration plate. I can accept a car can be cloned but it’s just a little too coincidental that a cloned car would have the same light out, don’t you think?’
‘Now that is interesting.’ Julie paused to think for a few moments. ‘The thing is…. this hit and run.… it’s all really odd. It’s as though the couple were purposefully targeted but I can’t see any reason why. There was nothing special about them. Just a normal couple out having a drink on a Friday night. This is very strange. I don’t know if the BMW has any significance, but from what you’ve just told me I think that it does now.’
‘Do you need me to go back and interview him more thoroughly?’
‘Not at the moment. I’ll discuss it with my DS and then get back to you. Thanks loads for this. You’ve been really helpful.’
‘No problem at all.’
‘So what was this Lange like?’
‘Short guy. Dressed like a geek to be honest, with thick rimmed glasses. A bit of a weirdo if you ask me. Like I said, very nervous. Lives with his mother who sounded rough as a dog. She bawled at him from upstairs while I was in the living room and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Strange little guy.’
‘OK Jeff. Thanks again. I’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve decided what to do. You see, the BMW wasn’t involved in the actual incident, but it looks like Lange knows more than he’s letting on. If this was a premeditated attack then we’re looking at a possible murder enquiry and not a death by dangerous driving.’
‘Big difference there.’
‘That’s true. Thanks again.’
‘OK. Bye now.’
Julie put the receiver down and looked at the telephone. What on earth was going on? Why would Lange lie if he didn’t have some kind of involvement or something to hide? It didn’t make sense. Why would Danny and Lucy be targeted and how was some weirdo from London involved? How did it link in?
‘You OK Julie?’ asked Jim Lea who had just walked in.
‘Not really,’ she replied and then told him of the conversation she had just had with Jeff Greenough.
‘I think we could do with talking to this Lange character ourselves,’ he said when she had finished. ‘I think I’ll go and see Raymond and see if we can get a trip down to London in the next day or so. What do you think?’
‘I’m game. The thing is Jim, we don’t have a motive do we? If this turns out to be a murder enquiry we have no reason for it. I’ll give Danny Cooke a ring now and see if he knows Lange. But if he does then why would Lange deny being there?’
‘You’ve got me on that. We need to dig a little deeper. I’ll go and see Raymond and let him know what we’ve found out while you contact Danny. Another thing that you may want to consider though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That Lange is telling the truth and our man at Scotland Yard, or wherever, has got it all wrong. The car was cloned and it’s all just coincidental.’
‘True,’ replied Julie. ‘But I don’t think so, do you?’
Lea smiled wryly and turned away, heading towards Detective Inspector Raymond’s office.
Julie picked up the phone and got out her notebook for Danny Cooke’s number. He answered on the second ring.
‘Hello.’
‘Hiya Danny. It’s Julie Green here, how are you?’
‘I’m fine thanks. What can I do for you?’
‘This is a bad line, Danny, I can hardly hear you.’
‘Sorry, I’m on a train. On the way to London.’
‘London?’
‘Yes. I’m on my way to a will reading in Kensington tomorrow. Staying at a hotel nearby for a couple of nights. What can I help you with?’
‘Right, OK. Does the name Sean Lange mean anything to you?’
‘Who, sorry?’
‘Lange, Sean Lange,’ Julie shouted down the phone. The line was very bad.
‘Never heard of him. Who is he?’
‘Just someone we may be interested in.’
‘Does he have anything to do with Lucy’s death?’ She could sense him getting agitated on the other end of the telephone line.
‘Nothing to worry about Danny, really. Just a line of enquiry we’re following.’
‘OK. You’re the experts. I’ll leave it to you.’
‘OK. What will reading is this?’ Julie attempted a bit of small talk to change the subject.
‘Some Baronet or other.’
‘Is it a story you’re covering?’
‘No. Apparently I’ve been mentioned in his will. I’m on my way to find out what it’s all about.’
‘Right,’ said Julie, drawing out the word. ‘I’ll let you go then. Take care Danny.’
‘Will do. And thanks for all you’re doing, I appreciate it.’
‘No problem at all Danny. See you soon.’ She hung up before he had chance to say goodbye.
What was all that about, she thought? He doesn’t know Lange. She was beginning to doubt the significance of the BMW after Jim’s last remark and now thought that they could be barking up the wrong tree. And why would Danny, a journalist on a small local newspaper, be mentioned in the will of a Baronet? A person who would no doubt, be very wealthy. The more questions she was trying to answer, the more questions were arising.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed Jim returning from Raymond’s office. ‘What did he say?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘It’s a no goer. He told me to leave it alone. Reckons Lange’s more than likely telling the truth and we should just concentrate on finding out who the driver of the Focus is,’ he explained. ‘It might be worth another appeal on local radio for witnesses and I might ask forensics to take another look at the car. Desperate I know, but I don’t think there’s anything else we can do.’
Julie shook her head. ‘What’s up Julie?’ he asked.
‘Something Danny Cooke’s just told me,’ she replied. ‘He was on a train going to London for a will reading. He’s been mentioned in some rich guy’s will. Someone he doesn’t even know by the sounds of it.’
‘That’s odd.’
‘You’re telling me. I can’t help thinking it’s all linked. What do you think?’
‘I think you may be right. I don’t think that it will sway Raymond though. It might be worth asking our friends in the Met to have another word with Lange. Question him further. Even if it’s just to eliminate him from the whole thing.’
‘Yes maybe,’ said Julie. ‘Oh and Danny ha
s never heard of Sean Lange. He’s no idea who he is.’
‘Can’t say I’m surprised.’
They sat in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts. ‘How’re things going with you and Jo?’ asked Julie after a while.
‘Not good,’ he replied. ‘It’s over. Even if she decided to come back to me I don’t think that I could take her. Too much has been said that we can’t unsay. And I can’t stand the thought of her sleeping with someone other than me.’
‘I’m really sorry Jim,’ said Julie softly.
‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘Thanks.’ He paused for a few moments. ‘Anyway, I suppose we’d better get some work done. I’ll give forensics a call now and get them to look at the Focus again.’
CHAPTER TEN
Lange sat on the sofa in the living room staring vacantly at a blank television screen. Irene was upstairs with his mother. They were no doubt gossiping about him and the fact the police had been to see him earlier but he didn’t care right now. They could say and think what they liked because he had more important things to worry about. The police were on to him, of that he was certain. Despite the policeman seeming content with Lange’s suggestion of a ‘cloned’ car being the one up in Manchester, he knew that he had not been believed. He had mentioned a light being out on the registration plate and if they had a speed camera picture of him then surely it had shown up on that. Unless of course the light had only broken after the night in question but Lange, in his heart of hearts, knew that wasn’t the case. This would have been the reason why the policeman had asked him to switch on the lights. He must have been checking. And with the confirmation that it was the same car, he knew Lange would have had to have been lying.
He knew he had to do something but at the moment he did not know what that something was. No matter what he thought about the whole situation, this problem was of his own making and it irked him massively. How could he have been so stupid, so lazy and so bloody imbecilic? Moron, he thought, bloody moron. This whole thing had jeopardised all his plans.
It was getting towards evening and Lange felt that he needed a drink. A strong one and then lots more of them. He went upstairs to change out of the ridiculous attire he was forced to wear each day to make himself look unsuspicious and uninteresting, the clothes his mother favoured and had bought for him.
