DIRTY

by Robert White

  A few other guests littered the bar area, but it was private enough for the business at hand. Dave took a sip of a wonderful malt whiskey.

  “So, what can we do about this mess Anne?”

  Anne was scanning the local newspaper. She folded over a page and handed it to Dave. “I think you have another problem.”

  The article was headed ‘Murder Suspect Flees Court’ and a mug shot of William Henry Bailey stared back at Dave.

  Dave studied the article for a few moments. His voice was calm and confident, “I don’t think this is a problem, I think it buys us some time.”

  Anne raised a curious smile. Her lover was indeed a deep soul. “I’m all ears Sherlock.”

  Dave became animated, “We need to get the Chief off our backs. Right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, all we have to do is persuade him to go with the true evidence. The statement I signed hasn’t been presented to the Court yet, because Bailey did a runner. Until it is I haven’t committed any offence…yes?”

  Anne shook her head. “His solicitor will have a copy of the file.”

  Dave grimaced, thought for a moment and then countered, “Yes, but, what if we could offer the plea bargain to his brief that you originally put to McCauley?”

  Anne sat up in her chair. She let her palms fall forward and hunched her shoulders.

  “So let me get this straight. We go tell the hard arse of the century that he has to plea bargain a case he already considers is in the bag. Then we happen to mention that his Detective Sergeant is in love with a probationary Constable, who, incidentally, is so deep in his pocket already he eats lint for breakfast. What do you suggest we bargain with David?”

  Dave stared straight at Anne; there was fire in those eyes. “You know him better than me.”

  “That’s not fair David.”

  He finished his malt and gestured the barman for a re-fill. “Nothing’s fair in this kind of game Anne.”

  Dave leaned back in the plush armchair. He took the new drink, waited for the barman to leave earshot and spoke. It was so matter of fact Anne was open mouthed.

  “When I was back in Barnsley, before I joined the job, I did some door work for a man who owned three nightclubs. He made John McCauley look like a choirboy.

  Anyway, it seemed one of this guy’s business deals had gone wrong and he needed cash quickly. The next day I got a call to say there was some extra work for me. Am I interested?”

  Dave sipped his drink. He oozed confidence. ”I’m on the bare bones of my arse so I tell him yes. It’s a little debt-collecting job. Nothing new, I’d done some before. The difference is the debtor is another mean son of a bitch. A guy called Tony Parkes.”

  Anne realised she was doing fish impressions and closed her mouth.

  “I thought you may have heard of him. Big prostitution man in the north yeah?”

  Anne nodded, intrigued with both the story and her man.

  “Well, my employer had a deal with Parkes. His girls could use my boss’s clubs and houses to do ‘business’ and Parkes paid him a monthly ‘rent’. The trouble was that Parkes hadn’t paid for some time and my employer wanted his cash.”

  Dave took another drink. “Now you have to find a way to hurt a man like Parkes. It’s no good going around to his house with a baseball bat. He’ll just come back at you with a knife or a shotgun. You have to hurt him financially.”

  Anne listened, not completely sure she wanted to hear what came next.

  “So the next night, my boss got all his doormen together and we toured our three clubs,” Dave punctuated by finishing the second malt, “and kidnapped all Parkes’ girls.”

  Anne was so shocked at Dave’s candour she couldn’t help herself. She let out a loud ‘fuck me’ much to the consternation of the other bar customers.

  Dave laughed. “Nice to see I’m in love with a lady.”

  Anne leaned forward and hissed, “I didn’t realise I’d fallen for fuckin’ Ronnie Kray either!”

  Dave shrugged. “Anyway, the plan was a roaring success and Parkes paid up.”

  Anne held her head in her hands. “You don’t want to kidnap McCauley do you?”

  Dave was excited and in control now.

  “No, but the bastard will have a weakness and we have to find it; that’s what I meant when I said you knew him best.”

  Anne flipped a beer mat between her fingers, deep in thought. “He keeps files,” she began, “private files on all kinds of people. It’s what keeps him safe. I’ve never seen them but, recently, he would brag about them when he was pissed. He calls them his own personal Watergate. I reckon my blood analysis report and your witness statement are tucked in there too.”

  It was Dave’s turn to be intrigued. “Where does he keep them?”

  Anne shrugged. “The house I presume.”

  Ray Holmes lay in his bed. Billy had been having nightmares. Between the sex and the bad dreams, Ray hadn’t had much sleep. He shook Billy awake.

  “Come on sleepy head.”

  Billy opened his eyes. He didn’t know where he was.

  “That you dad?”

  Ray looked down at the sad young man. “No Billy. It’s me, Ray.”

  Billy smiled but his eyes remained flat and lifeless. “You all right Ray?”

  “I’m fine Billy. Now, let’s get some breakfast, we need to talk about how we can get you out of this trouble.”

  Billy was as compliant as a small child. “OK.”

  Ray cooked breakfast for them both. He could hear Billy talking to someone in the next room and peered around the door to see. Billy was sitting on the sofa facing an empty chair. He spoke in sporadic bursts as if answering questions. He was very animated. He waved his arms and rubbed his head furiously. Ray didn’t like it one bit. If Billy wasn’t up to Ray’s little scheme, he had to go.

  Ray stood, holding two plates of bacon and eggs.

  “Who are you talking to Billy?”

  Billy spun around. “Ray. I’m glad you’re here. Tell her will ya. Tell her to leave me alone.”

  Rays voice was low, “Tell who Billy?”

  “Her!” Billy pointed furiously at the empty chair. “The old fart.”

  Billy was pleading with all his features.

  Ray was once again unnerved by Billy’s presence. The boy had lost it. Still if he could complete this one task he could be dealt with later. Ray had all the contacts for any kind of job.

  Billy suddenly stood and took a plate from Ray’s hand. He sat, mumbled something about a television set and started to devour the food.

  Ray gingerly sat next to Billy and put his hand on the young man’s arm. “OK now Billy?”

  Billy nodded and with a mouthful of food said, “Can we watch another video Ray?”

  Ray Holmes’ voice was quiet and even. Almost hypnotic, “You need to understand Billy. I can’t help you unless you help me first.”

  Billy was nodding but his attention was still drawn between Ray, the empty chair and the blank television screen.

  “I need you to concentrate Billy. You are the only one who can do this for me.” Ray raised his voice slightly, “Billy!”

  The young man jumped nervously, this was not the William Bailey Ray knew so well. His own arrogance failed to see what he alone had done to the boy.

  “I’m listening Ray! For fucks’ sake stop getting on my back.”

  Ray resumed his quiet tone, “OK Billy, but we both need the same thing here. That copper, the one that slapped you in the cells, he’s called John McCauley.”

  “He’s a cunt,” snapped Billy now focused.

  “He certainly is,” Ray agreed. “Well I think, in fact I’m sure that he fitted you up on this job Billy.”

  Billy looked at Ray. His brow was furrowed which gave him the appearance of a confused bulldog. Egg fell from his chin.

  “I did kill her though.”

  “Are you sure Billy?” Holmes was ready for this, “I don’t think you’re sure of a
nything at the moment; you‘re a bit confused. I don’t think that you’re too well.”

  Billy became defensive, “I’m fine me. I’m just tired that’s all.”

  Ray played his ace. “So why’d you get caught with the marigolds?”

  “I did fuckin’ not! I dumped them just before I was lifted.”

  “Not according to the copper that nicked you. He says he found them in your pocket.”

  Billy flew into a rage. He even frightened Ray a little. After all, he was a very strong individual. Non-too stable either.

  “The lying fuckers! They’re tryin’ to stitch me Ray.”

  “They are too Billy.” Ray took Billy’s hand and sat him back down. “And I know just what to do.”

  The Chief stood at the bar with Clive Williams and Rod Casey. The Bull was quiet, except for a couple of off duty Constables having a quick beer after the early turn.

  Lucy had been serving the detectives for the last two hours. They had been putting it away as if prohibition was around the corner. She stood within earshot. McCauley had been talking about the Bailey case and some problem with the solicitor who represented him. Lucy knew a little about it from Andy. She didn’t catch all the speech, but McCauley had seemed very angry at one point. Williams had been trying to keep him quiet. The Chief didn’t heed and Casey looked very serious.

  There was something about photographs and a special file. Williams had tried to quieten the conversation, without success.

  McCauley had suddenly laughed at something that had happened in a night club called the Top Hat. He had slapped Casey on the back. Casey wasn’t amused at all. Williams was most concerned and took the Chief away from the bar but Lucy could still hear.

  McCauley was brazen and half drunk, “Listen Clive, I’m gonna sort this young prick Stewart.” He took a drink, grimaced at its strength and continued; “He’s after getting in Anne’s knickers. She won’t want anything to do with him when I’m through.”

  He gave a wink. “You know that eh lads!”

  He laughed and nudged Rod with his elbow. Rod had already heard enough but McCauley was unstoppable. “He’s following her around like a lost fuckin’ dog. Like some fuckin’ love struck teenager. I’ll tell you this,” he poured more drink into his mouth, spilling some on his shirt, “If he don’t leave her alone, I’ll sort him good.”

  He tapped the side of his nose and shut one eye theatrically. “I’ll be up her again before the weeks out. See if the little bastard likes that eh?”

  The Chief returned to the bar to order. Lucy was no legal eagle, but she knew something wasn’t right. She would have to speak to Andy about it.

  Dave pushed the Cosworth down the motorway, his foot to the floor. Anne, who was a nervous passenger at the best of times, was slowly sliding down in her seat.

  “Err, David?”

  Dave was concentrating hard. “Yes love?”

  “Are you trying to kill us both before we go to jail for perjury, blackmail and burglary?”

  Dave undertook a car much to the disgust of its driver. “You know as well as I do, once Bailey is caught our plan isn’t worth shit. It’s now or never.”

  Anne rallied. “OK, but how do we know that McCauley will be out tonight?”

  Dave remained silent. It took a moment and the realisation hit Anne like a train.

  “Oh no! Not on your life, you can’t possibly be serious.”

  “You don’t have to sleep with the guy. Just take him for a drink for a couple of hours and, you know, make your excuses and leave.”

  “No.”

  Dave was indicating to pull off the motorway.

  “You got a better idea Sergeant?”

  “No.”

  “Then we ring him as soon as we get to your place.”

  Anne reached across and touched Dave’s cheek. “My God, I hope we know what we are letting ourselves in for.”

  It was no time for levity. Anne felt very uncomfortable with the plan. Fifteen minutes later, as Dave pulled into the driveway of her home; Anne felt the first steel fingers of fear. It was fine making these little plans whilst tucked away in the safety of the Lake District, but something about the sight of her own house brought her back to reality.

  The pair walked into the living room. Dave immediately went to the telephone, lifted the receiver, and held it toward Anne.

  “No time like the present,” he nodded.

  Anne was nervous and embarrassed. The last thing she wanted to do was speak to McCauley with Dave in the room. Her stomach was turning at the thought.

  She checked her watch and dialed the Chief’s direct line to his office.

  “Speak,” the voice was brisk and businesslike.

  Anne did her best to sound cheerful, “Hi John.”

  “One minute.”

  Anne was put on hold. She considered there was probably someone in the office. The telephone clicked in Anne’s ear and he was back, his tone now different, “Anne my dear, do you know I’ve been looking for you? Where in God’s name have you been the last few days? You were very naughty the other night, left me high and dry.”

  Anne sat back on the sofa. Dave looked on, gesticulating with his hands for her to get on with it. She felt herself flush with embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry John but an old girlfriend from University turned up unexpectedly,” she looked at Dave and bit her lip. Convinced her lies were obvious.

  “And we went off on the rampage for a few days. You know how it is.”

  Anne giggled nervously. McCauley seemed unimpressed, “Hmm.”

  Anne quickly filled the silence, “Anyway I’m ringing to see if you are doing anything special tonight?”

  This news cheered him.

  “Nothing as special as you darlin’.”

  Anne could virtually see the leer on his face and shivered. She swallowed hard. “You fancy a beer somewhere then?”

  He chuckled down the line. “And the rest Annie.”

  Anne felt like she might falter, her confidence was on the wane, but she forced herself. “Steady on, boy. One thing at once eh?”

  The Chief was instantly businesslike once again. “I’ll pick you up at your place, 8 o’clock.”

  Before Anne could reply, the telephone went dead. She replaced the receiver and noticed her hands were shaking. She felt sick and looked towards Dave for support.

  “I don’t know if I can do this David.”

  Dave sat next to her and held her tight. He felt the tell-tale signs of nerves, but he was also very determined. So much so that he now believed he could go through just about anything for Anne.

  “You can, and you will Anne. It’s the only way.”

  She looked up into the face of her lover, tears starting to well in her eyes. “If he finds out,” she wiped away a tear, “he’s capable of killing us both.”

  ten

  Holmes had told Billy everything. He knew the truth now.

  Those bastards down at Preston nick had tried to stitch him. They were in for a shock. Oh yes, you don’t fuck with Billy Bailey. He had a good friend in Ray. Ray knew what to do. He always knew best.

  Ray had given him some clothes too, smart clothes. Billy felt better than he had for a while.

  The waking nightmares were still there. The old lady still bugged him, but when this was all over, maybe she would stay away.

  Ray had taken Billy to a part of town he had never been before, with big houses, even bigger than Ray’s house. Ray had shown him the one where the pig lived. Now it was up to him. He would do this for Ray and Ray would look after Billy as he always had.

  Billy knew about routine. It’s what a burglar depended on. People do the same things every day. Go to work, walk the dog, shop, go the pub.

  This guy was a bit different though. This guy didn’t go to work at the same time every day. He was a pig. Pigs were different.

  Ray wanted Billy to stay in the pub where he had been dropped off until it was time for the job. He’d told him exactly wha
t he wanted, but Billy couldn’t think in a pub. He always did his thinking in the old mill on the Callon and that’s where he was headed. Billy didn’t even notice the car.

  By the time Billy reached the broken mill gates, it was completely dark. Spring may have been on the way but for now, the winter nights refused to lose their grip.

  At the rear of the mill some of the boarding which covered a once glass window was loose. Billy always used the same way in. You see, burglars need routine one way or another.

  The inside of the mill smelled musty. The only light came from the sodium street lamps on the main road, and that fell in narrow strips through the holed roof. The lack of light made any swift movement difficult.

  Billy stepped through the layer of pigeon shit that almost covered the floor until he reached his spot. He liked this place. It was somewhere he could think, a haven where he could way everything up. Once he had his head together, a quick bus ride would have him close to the job. He always took the bus there and back on an out of town job. It was a rule.

  Pigs don’t pull busses and there was nothing big to carry this time, just those dirty pictures that Ray wanted.

  “When all this is over,” Billy thought, “I’ll be famous, be in the papers and everything.”

  The best thing was the pig would be in the nick for fitting him up and everyone knows what happens to pigs in the nick.

  Billy sat facing the gaping hole that once was a window. The breeze felt good on his face. Everything was quiet. He could see the rush hour traffic crawling slowly out of town; people, sitting in their cars, blissfully unaware of the seedy dealings of the world. They only knew what they read in the papers. They lived on nice, quiet estates. They had no fuckin’ idea.

  The first thing Billy felt was the coldness of the rubber glove, which gripped his forehead.

  It was a very strong grip and his head was snatched backwards with great force, his eyelids prized open by the movement. At first, he thought to struggle but Billy was suddenly aware of another cold object against his throat.

  Then a voice whispered in his ear; a cold horrible voice; it came from the depths of hell.