by Jack Gatland
‘With Danny Martin?’
‘Screw Danny Martin,’ Derek sneered. ‘He’s a jobsworth. I mean the bigger names. The Byrnes. The Delcourts.’
‘Yeah, about the Delcourts,’ Declan replied. ‘I forgot to mention something.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I told the Delcourts how it was you that showed us the body. It quite surprised them, considering that you never spoke to them after you retired. Moses himself had a few thoughts on what he wanted to do with you.’
‘Lucky I’m in here then,’ Derek smiled. ‘Safest place to be.’
Declan nodded slowly, as if agreeing.
‘Shame it’s not for you, though,’ he replied. ‘Derek Salmon, you’re free to go.’
‘What are you saying?’ Derek rose from the chair now, confused. Declan shrugged.
‘We have enough evidence to show that you were coerced by as yet unknown people to confess to the crime,’ he explained, walking to the door and banging on it. ‘Knowing this, we can happily allow you to return home, free of all guilt.’
‘But you told the Sisters about me!’ Derek was no longer smiling. ‘They’ll be waiting!’
‘Not my problem,’ Declan said. ‘I did my part of the bargain. I set you free without stating on the record that you’d told me you’d been pressured by them.’
‘But you did tell them!’
‘Not my problem.’
‘But you can’t do this! I haven’t seen…’ Derek’s face was ashen. ‘I haven’t confessed to Father Lawson.’
‘Yeah, you know him, don’t you?’ Declan smiled now. ‘And it makes sense, what with him knowing Danny Martin. Shame it’s not him now.’
‘What do you mean?’ Derek was wheezing now, visibly scared. Declan shrugged.
‘My team, the ones you wanted to destroy? They seem to believe that Father Barry Lawson is actually Stephen Lawson in a dog collar.’
‘Stephen Lawson's in prison.’ Derek was now visibly sweating.
‘Stephen Lawson got out six months back. And, we believe, is currently pretending to be his brother. We have police out looking for him right now, according to the last text I received.’
Declan grinned as the door started unlocking.
‘But don’t worry,’ he explained, tapping the side of his nose. ‘You’ll still get absolution, I’m sure.’
‘There is no absolution from him, you dopey bastard!’ Derek exclaimed, now grabbing at Declan. ‘You can’t send me out there! He’ll kill me! I need police protection!’
‘You want protection? Give me something I can use,’ Declan replied. ‘Tell me who gave you the burial site. Tell me who murdered Angela Martin and Gabrielle Chapman.’
Before Derek could reply, the door opened and the police constable who’d brought him in leaned into the room.
‘Everything alright?’ he asked.
Declan looked to Derek, who nodded slowly.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you. But not until tomorrow.’
Declan looked to the constable. ‘Take Mister Salmon back to his cell and keep him there,’ he said. ‘I don’t want him missing Bake Off.’
As Derek passed him, however, he grabbed his one-time student by the arm.
‘You were never going to let me free, were you?’ he asked. ‘You played me as much as I played you.’
‘As I said, I learned from the best,’ Declan stepped back as the constable took Derek by the arm, leading him out of the Interview Room. ‘But I didn’t mean you, Derek. I meant my father and Alex Monroe.’
The hurt look that crossed Derek’s face as he was led away was enough for Declan. Now alone in the Interview Room, he thought back to what Derek had said. There was one thing that was going to weigh on Declan’s mind for the rest of the night.
He still didn't know who killed Angela Martin and Gabrielle Chapman.
21
Duality
Alexander Monroe hadn’t intended to stay the night in Birmingham, but here he was, kipping in the Ready Room, half wrapped in a knackered old pink blanket that was fraying at the edges and smelt weirdly of Battenberg cake, while Stripe Mullville slept on the sofa across the room. Doctor Marcos had claimed a custody cell, stating that she always slept well when nicked, and Bullman, the only local involved here, had disappeared for the night, returning to her home and a proper bed.
It was about one in the morning when DI White entered the room, walking quietly over to Monroe and tapping him on the shoulder.
‘Sir,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve got a visitor.’
Monroe rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stared blearily at White. ‘You’re Bullman’s man, aren’t you?’
White nodded. ‘We met briefly when you arrived. I was with the boy when his parents were arrested.’
Monroe looked over to Stripe, now awake and watching the two of them.
‘You know this man?’ Monroe asked. Stripe nodded.
‘He was nice to me,’ he said. Monroe nodded back at this, looking back to White.
‘So who’s visiting me at—’ he looked at his watch ‘—this bloody stupid time in the morning?’
‘One of George Byrne’s men,’ DI White sat on one of the other chairs now, not bothering to whisper now that everyone was awake. ‘We picked him up during a nightclub fight and he asked immediately to speak to you. Arresting officer brought him directly here.’
‘Do George Byrne’s men often get what they ask for from the police?’ Monroe asked, half joking. It was Stripe that answered, his voice devoid of all humour.
‘Yeah.’
Monroe looked back to the boy, considering this for a long moment.
‘I don’t want to leave him alone,’ he said to White. ‘If Bullman trusts you, and if Alfie here says it’s okay, will you wait with him while I speak to this lad? Or can you go wake up Doctor Marcos and bring her here?’
White nodded. ‘I can wait,’ he said. Monroe shook himself out of the tattered blanket, offering it to the DI.
‘Want this? No? Good choice.’ He tossed it back on the chair.
Stretching his arms to remove the kinks in his shoulders caused by his cramped sleeping position, Monroe left DI White and Stripe together, walking out into the corridor. A young female constable stood there, patiently waiting for him.
‘You another one on Byrne’s payroll?’ he asked sardonically. The constable stared at him silently for a moment, and Monroe felt the daggers strike from her gaze.
‘You ever done something to keep the peace that’s a little against the rules?’ she asked. Monroe thought for a moment and then nodded.
‘I worked in East London, so yeah, I did that.’
‘Then get off your high London horse, Guv,’ the constable snapped back. ‘We’re on a knife edge here. Byrne owns half the coppers in Saltley and Aston, and when he dies his son’ll likely burn half the city down in triumph. You work with the Devil, doesn’t mean that you’re owned by the Devil.’
She showed Monroe to an Interview Room down the corridor.
‘In there. CCTV is turned off, you’ll be alone.’
Monroe nodded, walking past the constable. He stopped though, looking to her.
‘It starts like that, you know,’ he said. ‘You think that by working with the cancer you’ll beat the cancer, but soon the working with becomes working for. And that’s when you can’t get out.’
‘Did you get out?’ the constable asked. ‘Because you’re sounding like this is a bit familiar to you. Sir.’
Monroe thought for a moment. ‘I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure,’ he said. ‘Stay safe out there.’
With a last nod of thanks, he entered the Interview Room.
There was a young man sitting in the room. A familiar young man. Tall with blond hair, he wore a black polo shirt with charcoal jeans over expensive looking tan Chelsea boots.
‘I recognise you,’ Monroe said, sitting opposite him. ‘Come to finish what you couldn’t start in the church?’
�
�Just here to talk,’ the man said with an ease that made Monroe feel for a second that he was the one being interviewed here. ‘I had myself arrested so I could speak quickly to you. My brief will be here soon, and he’ll have me out in minutes, so let’s get on with it. I’m Harrison Fennel.’
‘You say the name as if you expect me to know it,’ Monroe replied. Harrison shrugged.
‘Wasn’t sure,’ he said. ‘We work for the same boss, after all.’
‘Unless you mean Her Majesty the Queen, laddie, then you’ve mistaken me for someone else.’
Harrison smiled at this, pulling out his phone, something that should have been taken from him when he was processed, and tapping on the screen. A website flashed up; he read from it.
‘Employee. Noun. A person who is paid to work for someone else.’ He looked back to Monroe.
‘The question is, of course, who’s been paying you over the years?’
‘I don’t work for The Twins,’ Monroe snapped. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been told, but we ended our relationship a long time back.’
Harrison shrugged. ‘I ended mine too,’ he replied. ‘Don’t mean that they don’t still think I work for them.’
Monroe leaned back in his chair, staring at the man in front of him. ‘You work for Macca Byrne. You’re close to him.’
‘I’m his right-hand man,’ Harrison said with a hint of pride. ‘Have been since we met in senior school. I was a year above him.’
‘But you work for The Twins.’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘So uncomplicate it for me,’ Monroe finished. ‘Explain to me why you’re mixed up in all this, and why the hell I’m talking to you right now.’
Harrison sat silently for a moment, and Monroe couldn’t work out whether the man was sulking, refusing to answer or simply trying to put together what he needed to say.
Eventually he started talking.
‘My dad, right? He worked for The Twins, mainly gopher stuff. You know, gopher this, gopher that…’ he chuckled at his own joke. ‘But he left with Craig Chapman when Chapman moved up here to work with George Byrne. I’d only just been born around then. Don’t remember much of London.’
‘Okay,’ Monroe leaned forward, painfully aware of the fact that it was early in the morning, and that he’d only had a couple of hours of broken sleep. ‘So how does that lead to you working for The Twins?’
‘Because my dad never stopped working for them,’ Harrison explained. ‘While Craig cut all ties, my dad went up with him on Jackie Lucas’s orders. To monitor them, to see what they’d do.’
‘Spy on them.’
Harrison cocked his head sideways.
‘My dad the spy,’ he said, his expression brightening. ‘Yeah, I can see that. Anyway, unlike James Bond, it turns out the whole move was nothing. Still, my dad still kept tabs on the Byrne gang for the Lucas brothers, doing what they’d paid him to do. And then, when I was old enough, I started in the family business too.’
‘You knew Angela Martin?’ Monroe asked. Harrison nodded.
‘I knew Angela,’ he said. ‘I loved her.’
‘Did she reciprocate that love, though?’ Monroe mentally filed away this attachment. Declan had mentioned a photo found in Angela Martin’s room of her, Macca and Harrison Fennel.
‘Her dad was our liaison,’ the boy continued, ignoring the question. ‘We’d drive down to London and meet with him. And sometimes she’d turn up.’
‘Did you see The Twins?’
‘Never The Twins,’ Harrison admitted.
‘So what went wrong?’ Monroe asked. ‘Because we’ve got bodies that show that something happened.’
‘Angie went off the rails,’ Harrison looked down at the table, remembering. ‘She was out on the town with Moses Delcourt, as her dad had set that up through some copper he knew. The plan was to unite the London gangs, but we soon learned that no matter what Moses thought, he wasn’t gonna rule North London.’
‘Why?’
Harrison chuckled. ‘Because he had a cock, bruv. The clue’s in the word Sisters. Christ, he has a sister, Molly, yeah? Twelve years old and into ponies. Wants to be a vet when she grows up, doesn’t care about the world her family’s in. Even she’s more likely to replace her mum than him.’
‘So how were you getting around that?’
‘Angie. She was gonna get in tight with Mama Delcourt, maybe even become one of the other six Sisters. That way she was in the room with her when things were decided. Having her courted by Moses also gave a legitimacy to him. And, down the line, she could take over and unite that way, with the traditionalists seeing her as the new Matriarch, while the progressives get to follow the son.’ He chuckled. ‘If they married, she’d be Mama Delcourt too. They wouldn’t even have to change the nametags.’
‘But something stopped this.’
‘Yeah. Moses had ambition beyond his mum and London,’ Harrison shook his head. ‘Started talking to Macca Byrne about their parents. Both were living under shadows, you get? Anyway, Macca gets really into this. I see it all, as I’m in school with him. His dad’s a genuine piece of shit and doesn’t see what his son brings to the table. So Macca decides that maybe he should go sit at another table and plans to do this with Moses. Within two years they’d convinced themselves that a plot from a TV show was the way forward. Drugs from Birmingham into London via the canals. Meanwhile, I get a call from Danny Martin, saying he wants me to cut the air supply between Angie and the Byrnes. Ensure she's not a part of their world.’
‘So how did you get around that?’
Harrison smiled. ‘Angie had a backup plan already. Turned up in town calling herself Gabby Chapman. Technically, Angie Martin never turned up. Even when she was arrested, she was under this new identity.’
‘So you never met the real Gabrielle Chapman then?’
Harrison shook his head. ‘Mate, until the end I didn’t even know there was a real Gabrielle Chapman,’ he explained. ‘I mean, my dad knew her dad and all that, but I didn’t mingle. And by the time I joined, they were all dead in a fire. Or so I thought. Anyway, I thought Angie had found someone to do her a new identity. And it was golden, too. She had photos, a provisional licence, a passport, everything.’
Monroe nodded. This was a part of the story he understood. At this point Angela Martin would have found out the truth about her parentage.
‘I’m guessing she wasn’t talking to her father at this point either?’ Monroe offered.
‘Nah, they’d had a falling out,’ Harrison nodded. ‘She was effectively AWOL, working with Moses. She was still talking to the priest though, so we assumed that she was keeping people updated.’
‘The priest?’
‘Lawson. She’d go to confession, but she was really just passing the news and getting orders from London. He was part of the firm too. Even though she wasn’t talking to her dad, she was still moving towards a common goal.’
‘Which was?’
‘War,’ Harrison said the word as if it was nothing more than a thought, ignoring the huge implication such a term could give. ‘We realised early on that Macca and Moses wouldn’t work well. Macca was a pipe smoking crackhead and got Angie into smoking it, doing a little meth, screwing her up. I knew I could get her off it if I got her out of Birmingham, but Moses found out, started kicking off.’
‘How did he find out?’ Monroe asked. Harrison laughed.
‘You know, I think the crazy bitch actually told him herself,’ he said. ‘One of those he’s a better shag than you moments. Right threw him off his game. And that’s when the problems started. That’s also when I saw Danny Martin's actual plan.’
‘Which was?’
‘To take over everything.’ Harrison rested his arms on the back of the chair as he relaxed. ‘He didn't want Angie anywhere near him by then, but he was happy to use her to set Macca and Moses against each other and then, once they killed themselves and their turfs were decimated, to walk in, take it over and somehow thr
ow the whole shit show on Mama Delcourt, get her removed and get Angie to take over the Seven Sisters before he took it from her. Three turfs become one.’
‘But it didn’t happen,’ Monroe nodded. ‘Because Angela was on drugs?’
‘I dunno,’ Harrison admitted. ‘It was around then I stopped getting messages from London. Even the priest wasn’t in the loop anymore.’
Monroe rubbed at his eyes, the tiredness returning.
‘God save me from complicated stories,’ he whispered. ‘And bloody Father Lawson.’
Harrison actually laughed at this. A banging on the door interrupted them, and Monroe saw the constable enter once more.
‘Hurry it up,’ she said. ‘His brief’s arrived.’
The door shutting again, Harrison leaned across the desk.
‘Look,’ he started. ‘I wanted to speak to you because we got shared history. And if you accuse me of anything, I can ensure your career is dead instantly, yeah?’
‘Go on,’ Monroe replied, resisting the urge to strangle the little scroat. Harrison nodded.
‘Angie got her orders from Lawson during confession in his Birmingham church, but at some point her dad had gone into business for himself. She was way out of control too, a liability. She could have given any of us up at any point. It was stressful.’
‘And then?’
‘And then she disappears. Danny Martin drives up, I thought it was to find her, but he picks me up in the middle of the night and drives me to a Mission House in Alum Rock, where like, nuns lived, yeah? In there was a body. It was Angie, but like a fake one. She was dead. An overdose, I think.’
‘Danny Martin took you to see his daughter?’
‘I know, it sounds crazy,’ Harrison replied. ‘But that’s how it was. Danny explained that this was Gabby Chapman, and he needed her buried, forgotten about. Didn’t say what happened. Said that if I didn’t, he’d tell both of the Byrnes about everything I’d done. I had no choice. We took it to the Lickeys.’
‘So you and Danny Martin were who–who the witness saw in the woods?’
‘Yeah,’ Harrison nodded. ‘I thought I saw someone, but then nothing was said for another year. I thought I’d gotten away with it.’
