Third Degree

by Claire Rayner

  ‘Mmm? Oh, the usual drill for these things. They gave me a form one six three. An official complaint had been levelled at me. That I’d demanded money with menaces from a fish dealer and taken the cash from him in nothing bigger than twenty-pound notes, old ones, and paid them into my own bank. That I was suspended until such time as the complaint could be fully investigated, and I was to keep myself available for interrogation as and when they wanted me. Somethin’ like that.’

  ‘But…’ she frowned. ‘But Gus, what are you worried about? Surely you can prove that it isn’t true? I mean, paying fifteen thousand in – you’ve only got to show them your bank books and so on and –’

  ‘That’s just the trouble.’ He said it savagely, biting off the words. ‘I did pay an extra seventeen thousand in cash into the bank last week. Not an extra, exactly, so much as a build-up. I’ve been so bloody busy this past month and more, I’ve neglected the business. The shops and restaurants have been carrying on all right, they’re all good staff and know what to do. They handle their own weekly take, pay it in, sign their own cheques, keep their own books, the whole bit. Why shouldn’t they? They’ve worked for me for years – worked for my dad before me. I can trust ’em. I just deal with overall things – like this seventeen thousand.’

  ‘I thought you said fifteen,’ she said.

  ‘That’s what’s so bloody clever. They know – whoever set me up with this complaint – they know somehow how much it was and they’ve gone for a bit less in their accusation. But it was seventeen.’ He sighed. ‘I’d loaned it to Lenny Greeson, who’s got a fish shop over at Canning Town, to get himself out of trouble. It’s a long story …’

  ‘Well, tell it,’ she said. ‘All of it.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘It’s hard to know where to begin. Lenny’s dad and my dad were mates. Good mates. Went to school together. My dad did well, old Ernie Greeson didn’t. Never had more than one little place. When Ernie died ten years ago, he asked Dad to keep an eye on his boys. Dad’s dead now, so I do.’

  ‘But how can you be responsible for –’ she began, but he shook his head.

  ‘You’re not an East-Ender. That’s how we are in these parts. Look out for each other, you know? Anyway, Lenny’s a – not a mate of mine, exactly, but I take an interest in him. But Lenny’s not the only one. He’s got a brother, Don, who’s a right layabout. He works in the shop too, and getting him to keep his hands out of the till is murder. So I lent Lenny the cash, and he used it to pay some debts he had. He wanted to clear his books so he can sell the business, you see. I told him I’d be interested, that I’d buy and pay his debts, but he wouldn’t have that. He reckoned if he paid his debts, then showed me what a good business it was by paying me back in cash, week by week, he could ask for more for the business. As things were he couldn’t prove the value of the goodwill he had because of Don. That silly bugger just helped himself before the take went through the books.’

  ‘It’s a bit complicated,’ she ventured.

  ‘Of course it is! And it sounds such a lame duck sort of story, for God’s sake. But it happens to be true and it does make sense once you know the people involved. And understand the way my Dad and Ernie were. Lenny begged me to help him prove he had a business worth his asking price. He doesn’t want to fall out with his brother – he’s the only relative he’s got – so this was his idea. If I’d lend him the money he could repay it from the business in cash before Don could get his sticky fingers on it. The amount of time it would take him to pay it back would show me just how much the business took. Like he said, he couldn’t do what other businesses do and sell the place and the goodwill on the basis of bookkeeping because he’d never been good at it and it was a right dog’s dinner. And the banks wouldn’t lend for the same reason. No hard evidence of turnover, or business value. So I did it. And he paid me back over the last four weeks, to the tune of seventeen thousand. He’s got a nice little business there in Canning Town. He’ll have the whole debt paid off in another couple of months at this rate. It’s impressive for a small set-up. Like I said, I should have paid it in weekly as I got it, in cash, only I didn’t have time to pay it in till last Tuesday. And it was that payment which was the basis of the complaint.’

  Suddenly he got to his feet as though he was unable to stay still any longer. He began to prowl around the room, stamping his feet down hard at each turn as though to burn off his rage.

  ‘I’m so straight, it’s bloody ridiculous. There was nothing in this for me. I don’t even get any of the usual interest you get when you lend money. I just wanted to help the fella sort out the mess his business was in so he could sell it. Lenny swore to me that every penny he paid me came straight out of the till – or rather his apron pocket. On account of that’s where he put all the cash he had so Don couldn’t get hold of it. He paid me back, he showed me his business is a safe one so he can sell it and keep his head high – and now look at the mess I’m in.’

  ‘But I don’t understand the problem!’ she said. ‘Why don’t you take these Complaints Investigators to see Lenny and talk to him?’

  ‘I tried!’ he said almost savagely. ‘But you don’t know how their minds work. They’ll think I’ve fitted Lenny up to tell the story – if I’m guilty, that is. And they’ll assume I am, believe me! Maybe they will talk to him – but in their own time. And I certainly won’t be allowed to be there when they do.’

  She was silent for a while, then said, ‘But how could anyone know …’ She bit her lip and thought again. ‘Could this Lenny be the one who – who dropped you in it?’

  He stopped and stared down at her. ‘Lenny? I can’t imagine it,’ he said slowly. ‘Why should he? Oh, shit!’ He began to walk the room again. ‘That’s the trouble with this sort of thing. He could have done, I suppose. I know him. I like him. I’ve always trusted him since he was a little kid, but what does that add up to? Maybe he told someone what I was doing? There was no reason why he shouldn’t. It was no secret that Don couldn’t be trusted with cash. Dammit all to hell and back, Don knows he can’t be trusted with money! He knew Lenny was doing this and was glad enough – he wants his share of the money when Lenny sells up.’

  ‘What’s Lenny planning to do once his shop is sold?’ she asked. ‘Could there be a reason there?’

  Gus shook his head. ‘He’s going to start again on his own. Without Don. Don’s going to use his share to go into a bookie business as a partner. Lenny’s going to buy a frying van, and travel to sell his fish and chips. Off my patch, of course. That would be part of the deal. Then, in time, maybe he’ll make enough to start a proper shop again. Somewhere south of the water where we wouldn’t be in competition and could stay friends. Christ, friends! Have I got any friends? How can I know, after this?’

  ‘Gus, come and sit down,’ she said, holding out her arms. ‘You’re wearing yourself out. Please, come and sit down here.’ She indicated the sofa beside her and slowly he obeyed. She knelt beside him and began to knead the muscles at the back of his neck and across his shoulders. Slowly she felt the knotted muscles loosen and relax.

  ‘That’s nice,’ he said. He sounded a little sleepy and she was glad of it. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I can help,’ she said. ‘I can do some investigating of what’s going on here–’

  At once the muscles tightened again and he hurled himself round to glare at her, grabbing her shoulders with fingers so hard she almost winced. ‘You’ll do nothing of the bloody sort, lady. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Why not?’ She was angry. ‘Am I so stupid that I can’t –’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with stupid or clever! You’re as clever as they come – the trouble is you might be too clever by half. There are rules about things. Like not tampering with witnesses. If you go digging around before the CIB does, you could be accused of trying to interfere with police investigations and I could be accused of urging you to do it. Since it would all be on my behalf they’d be sure to believe it was my idea.’

&nbs
p; ‘But it would be me who –’

  ‘I know that and you know that. They wouldn’t know that. When they investigate a complaint they do it very thoroughly indeed. And if they keep coming across my girlfriend’s tracks wherever they go they’ll get very suspicious indeed.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can see that.’ But then she brightened. ‘Suppose I went after them?’

  ‘After?’

  ‘Mmm. Suppose I wait till they’ve talked to people and then follow them and do my own digging around. Would that be a problem?’

  ‘But what could you find out that they couldn’t? There’d be no point.’

  ‘There’d be all the point in the world. They’d just be looking for evidence. I’d be looking for evidence in your favour.’

  He sat very still, staring at her, and she spoke gently, because she knew she could hurt him so easily. ‘Sweetheart, just look at what’s happened so far. They found out about this money in your bank account, right? As far as they’re concerned, it’s evidence. Will they accept your explanation of what that money is, the way I have? I love you, you see. They don’t.’

  His hands slid down her arms, for he had still been holding them, and drooped, curled and lax, at his side. His eyes became unfocused as he thought, and then he shook his head.

  ‘It’s hopeless, George. They’ll throw me out, you know that? I’ll be out on my ear.’

  She bit her lip, still aware of walking on the most fragile of eggshells. ‘Gus, let’s look at the worst that can happen. So you leave the Force, but you won’t be in – I mean you’ll still have your business. You’ve done nothing criminal and they won’t be able to prove you have, surely? You won’t go to prison or anything. That has to be impossible.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ he said harshly. ‘I wish I were. If it’s proven that I took money from people after threatening them, I could very well go to prison. It’s not just an offence on the job, you know. It’s a crime. But that’s not the worst part. If I had to leave the Force –’ He closed his eyes for a moment and then snapped them open to glare at her. ‘Oh, God, George, it’s such a mess!’

  ‘Then all the more reason why I should try to do some hunting out of facts myself. Look, Gus, I’m not that bad at it, am I? I’ve found out things before for you. Let me try again.’

  He sighed, a helpless sort of sound that made her want to weep. ‘I don’t see how you can,’ he said at length. ‘How will you know who they’ve been to see? Who they’re going to see? What they’re discovering? You can’t sort out refuting evidence unless you know what it is they’ve collected. And they won’t be letting the world know that till they’ve got the case ready.’

  ‘But some of the people in the nick will know, surely?’ she said softly. ‘However close they play their cards to their chest, there’ll be someone at the nick who’ll find out. That place, as far as I can tell, is a minefield of gossip. It’s always blowing up.’

  Oddly he managed a smile. ‘That’s true. By God, that’s very true.’ He began to lift his mood a little. ‘So you’d talk to people there. Who?’

  She had an idea of her own, someone who’d already proven himself her ally on previous cases. But the suggestion had to come from him. ‘You tell me,’ she said.

  ‘Roop,’ he said after a moment. ‘He’d do anything he could to help me.’

  She was silent and he looked up at her and grinned, a twisted sort of grimace but at least it was there. ‘He’s all right, you know. I wish you could see that’.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘If you could see him through my eyes.’

  ‘Something like that. OK. There’s no way you could work with Roop.’ He brooded for a while and then seemed to brighten once more. ‘I could, though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘For Christ’s sake. I’m sitting here like the world’s coming to an end and I can’t do anything about it. But that’s a load of codswallop, right?’

  She looked at him more closely and her own spirits began to rise. He looked better. Not a great deal, but better. ‘Right,’ she said.

  ‘I can get a bit of work on my own case seen to, can’t I? Roop’ll do what he can for me, even though he’s got a tough one in this burning business.’

  ‘It mightn’t be so tough if he accepted a bit of co-operation from someone who could be useful,’ she said tartly.

  ‘George, ducks, do shut up,’ he said. ‘I’m thinkin’. I’ll talk to Roop. Tonight. At home. That’ll be OK. See what he can dig out for me. And then you needn’t–’

  ‘Like hell I needn’t,’ she said vigorously. ‘If you think I’m just going to sit around and let them throw buckets of crap at you, you’ve got another think coming.’

  ‘You’re all right, George, you know that?’ he said after a moment. He reached out and took both her hands in his. ‘All right, that’s what you are. OK. Go ahead and do what you can. So long as you don’t go falling over Dave Anderson and the other guy – whatsisname, Richard Shore, the Super said he was.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she promised.

  ‘How?’

  ‘How what?’

  ‘How won’t you?’ he said with exaggerated patience. ‘If you won’t take any inside help from Roop, how are you going to find out where the CIB goes and who they talk to?’

  She hesitated. ‘Mike Urquhart,’ she said at length. ‘He thinks the world of you. He’ll help me.’

  ‘Hmph,’ Gus said. ‘As long as it’s only me he thinks the world of.’

  ‘Listen Gus,’ she snapped. ‘This jealousy or whatever it is of Mike is stupid. He’s nothing to me apart from a buddy and he helps me a lot. Is that such a crime? Lay off, will you?’

  ‘I don’t see I have any choice,’ he said, and leaned back in his place on the sofa, letting go of her hands. ‘Oh, George, what a bloody mess! The job’s the only thing I’ve ever really cared about, you know. I enjoy fiddling around with the business, of course I do. I like the money it brings in. I like the elbow room it gives me to do what I like in my own time without expecting too much of me. Dad set the business up so it damn near runs itself – I’ve got the best workers east of Aldgate pump. But I’d turn my back on the lot tomorrow, if I had to choose. The job’s the only thing that really matters. Ever since I was a nipper, I drove my old man barmy the way I went on about it – there’s never been a copper in the family and as far as he was concerned it was a real let down. But he put up with it because he knew I’d never do anything else and be happy. And now this…’

  ‘It’s all right, Gus,’ she said. She came close to him and pulled his arm around her neck so that she could lie very close to him, her head on his shoulder. ‘The job’ll still be there for you. We’ll make sure of it. Trust me.’

  ‘Oh, George,’ he said. ‘I wish it was as easy as that.’ He pulled her round, bent his head and kissed her, hard and with increasing need, and though she responded hungrily, all she could think of was: suppose I can’t? Suppose they do throw him out? Then what? What sort of a person will Gus become? It was a horrible thought and a dreadful responsibility, but she’d taken it on and she had to carry it.

  He went on kissing her and the worry about her responsibility dwindled and slid deep to the back of her mind, out of the way. She had much more immediate things to think of.

  17

  If it had to happen at all, George thought, at least we can be grateful it happened on a Saturday. That gives us Sunday, a whole day, to be together unhampered by work or thoughts of work – or, she amended, unhampered by any need to go at once to do anything about work. The shadow of it, however, hung over the day like a morning mist in autumn.

  He spent the night in her flat but woke early and made sure she did too; and then later, as they lay in a post-coital half-doze, he muttered about needing to get some exercise. She forbore to make any comments about how much private exercise they had already taken and agreed at once to do whatever he wanted.

  So they swam at the local pool and then drove into the middle of town to brea
kfast on croissants and hot chocolate in the Covent Garden piazza. After that they wandered over to Hyde Park to jog lazily round the track and then to lie on the grass and talk in a desultory sort of fashion about the people who strolled by them. He got restless then, and suggested a concert somewhere. Obediently she followed him back to the car and they travelled eastwards again, though this time they stopped at the Barbican and sat through a couple of hours of music. Not the most cheerful of music, George felt, with the main work being the Verdi Requiem, but he seemed to enjoy it. At least he sat quietly through the whole performance and seemed reasonably relaxed at the end of it.

  He opted for dinner in Covent Garden again, so back they went to Joe Allen’s where he sat and didn’t eat a pile of barbecued ribs with black-eyed peas; and she knew that he could no longer hold at bay his anxiety.

  ‘But you’ve done bloody well,’ she murmured and he looked at her, perplexed.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I said, “You’ve done bloody well.” You’ve enjoyed quite a lot of today.’

  He managed a smile. ‘With you? Love, it’s been great.’

  ‘Until now?’

  ‘No …’ he said and then let his shoulders slump. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. I managed not to think of it when we were swimming and in the park, but it started to come back in the concert and now … Well, you can’t blame me.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘And like I said, you’ve been great. Shall we go back to your place or mine?’

  He hesitated. ‘Both. Do you mind, ducks? It’ll be better. I have to get my head together, make a few notes. I’ll be lousy company anyway.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind, all the same,’ she said. ‘But I do understand. Take me home, then, and let me give you some coffee there. You’re not enjoying this.’ She looked round the restaurant, a cheerful place full of busy people, with a piano making very agreeable noises and a subdued hum of contented chatter, and sighed. ‘We’ll come back here afterwards, when it’s all sorted out and we know you’re clear. We’ll have fun, hmm?’