‘I’m here to see Madley,’ Brady gruffly replied. He knew there was no point in being polite; these thugs were bred for violence, it was the only language they understood.
‘He’s not here,’ the bald man gutturally said. ‘So piss off.’
‘I’ll wait until he shows then,’ Brady asserted.
‘Are you thick or what? I said piss off!’ The bouncer grunted as he started to flex his fat, porky fingers.
Brady knew he didn’t stand a chance. He pulled out his wallet and showed his ID.
The bouncer glared at Brady in disgust before jerking his head for him to go through the doors.
Brady limped in. The place stank of stale sweat and sweet, sticky alcohol. Music was pulsating throughout, too loud and too crap for Brady’s liking. He made his way towards the bar where the staff were setting up for the night.
‘I need to speak to Madley,’ Brady shouted to a young girl behind the bar.
He didn’t recognise her and presumed she was new.
She eyed him suspiciously. ‘What’s it about?’
‘I’ll tell him when I see him,’ Brady answered.
She reluctantly sighed. ‘Name?’
‘Detective Inspector Brady.’
‘I’ll see if he’s around,’ she replied irritably.
She put the mixers in her hand down and walked to the end of the bar. She picked up the phone and dialled.
Brady watched as she spoke to someone, presumably explaining that there was a copper looking for Madley. Brady saw her mouth his name. She then nodded and put the phone down.
She walked back to him.
‘He’s expecting you,’ she said. ‘Through the emergency door there and then up the stairs. First door on the right.’
‘Yeah, I know where,’ Brady answered as he made his way to the door.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a mistake.
Brady allowed himself to be frisked by the same two henchmen from his visit on Friday.
‘You’re bleedin’ popular!’ grunted one of them.
‘It’s my good looks. Madley can’t resist,’ replied Brady.
The brute scrunched his face into a frown as he tried to figure out whether to deck Brady or not.
‘Wouldn’t if I were you,’ Brady dryly commented, noting the readied fist.
He walked into the office, leaving the henchman confused and frustrated.
‘I heard the good news,’ Madley coolly stated.
He was stood with his back to Brady looking out the ceiling-to-floor window.
Brady joined Madley and looked out at the scene below and immediately regretted it. The promenade was full of Saturday night drinkers. A group of pissed, raucous girls in knicker-high skirts and bra tops zigzagged their way across the road followed by leering lads. Taxi cars beeped at them as they tottered across the road, gesturing and mouthing obscenities at the cars.
‘Scotch?’ Madley asked as he headed over to the drinks cabinet.
Brady nodded. He knew he’d already had enough to drink, but he had a feeling he was really going to need this one. He turned and looked out at the rowdy gathering below.
‘Business seems good, Martin.’
‘I do all right out of it,’ Madley answered.
‘Yeah.’
Madley joined Brady with the drinks.
‘I was surprised that you got someone for that girl’s murder,’ Madley stated. ‘A convenient open and shut case,’ he added with a tinge of cynicism.
Brady looked at him. He had his face turned to the window, seemingly intent on the people below. Brady knew better; Madley was always on his guard.
Brady shrugged.
‘I didn’t think you were like the rest of them.’
‘What do you mean?’ Brady asked, confused.
‘Don’t take the piss with me, Jack. We go too far back for that.’
Brady took a drink and thought about it. He savoured the Scotch as it slid down the back of his throat. If he wasn’t mistaken it was a Talisker malt, flown in from the Isle of Skye. Madley had expensive tastes; he had a lot to make up for given his childhood.
‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,’ Brady answered.
Madley questioningly looked at Brady, his glinting brown eyes narrowed.
Brady held his gaze.
‘You know as well as I do that that poor sod didn’t kill the girl,’ Madley quietly stated.
‘What the fuck are you saying, Martin?’ Brady demanded.
‘You know exactly what I’m saying. You lot tied that case up so damned fast that it has to be a set-up. You didn’t want anyone spending too much time on it because you knew it would eventually lead back to Jimmy.’
‘What do you mean?’ Brady asked nervously.
Madley turned and looked back out of the window.
They stood in silence watching the drunks in the street below.
Brady kept quiet. He was scared shitless of what he was about to hear. He knew he could turn and walk out, leaving things as they were: Ellison arrested for the murder of his pupil. Did it really matter if he hadn’t actually killed her; hadn’t he already done enough with his sordid hands to warrant life in prison?
Brady knew most would turn a blind eye, but not him. Madley knew that, as did Matthews. Brady had an unfailing sense of duty.
‘You’ve got the wrong man, Jack, and you know it,’ Madley quietly stated, as he kept his eyes fixed on the black, tumultuous sea.
Brady didn’t say a word.
He took a drink and waited for the malt to slowly numb him.
‘Why else would you have turned up?’ Madley questioned.
‘I… I don’t know …’ muttered Brady.
‘He was here with the girl,’ Madley stated.
Brady felt sick.
He hadn’t expected this; he had been certain that Matthews must have had some sort of run-in with Madley the night of the murder. But that was it.
‘Thursday night, she was here with Jimmy. He was all over her. I just took it she was another one of his slappers. I thought she was a bit young, but then again, it was Jimmy. You know better than anyone what he’s like. The bastard can’t keep his dick in his trousers.’
Brady gripped his whisky glass to steady himself.
‘I’ve got it all on security tape if you don’t believe me,’ Madley added.
‘Why? Why are you doing this?’
‘Whose money do you think paid for that big house of his in Earsdon? A copper’s salary couldn’t pay for that kind of lifestyle, Jack, and you know it,’ Madley asserted. ‘Why else did you turn up yesterday? You knew, but you didn’t have the balls to ask me outright.’
Brady couldn’t disagree with Madley. He was right, he had known. Matthews’ lifestyle couldn’t be maintained on a copper’s salary. And he had known all along that was where Madley came in.
Brady looked out of the window. The horizon was as black as the sea.
‘You’ve got no choice, Jack,’ Madley said, breaking the heavy silence. ‘Not now you know.’
‘You’ve still got to convince me first,’ Brady evenly replied.
Madley smiled. ‘Yeah, still the same old Jack.’
Madley took Brady’s empty glass and walked back over to the drinks cabinet.
‘I take it you’ll be needing another?’
Brady nodded. ‘When can I see the tape?’
‘The package on my desk is your copy.’
Brady looked over at the desk. Two identical large, padded brown envelopes lay unopened.
‘Who’s the other one for?’ Brady asked, feeling his leg starting to flare up.
‘Let’s say it’s my insurance. I don’t know if I trust you to make the right decision. If I was in your position I don’t know what I’d do. So, in case you decide to put your friendship first, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. I’m sure your boss will be interested in Jimmy’s little problem.’
Brady felt his throat tighten a
s he looked at the sealed packages. He knew it was pointless grabbing them and making a run for it; not that he could with his leg. He knew Madley would still have the original and no doubt, multiple copies.
Madley returned with two refilled glasses.
‘You look like shit, Jack,’ Madley stated.
‘I feel it,’ Brady muttered as he took the glass. He then took a deep gulp.
‘Go on, I’m listening.’
‘As I said, Jimmy was all over her. She didn’t seem to mind though, but then again she did look pissed.’
Brady wasn’t surprised, given the amount of alcohol the lab results found in her.
‘Jimmy then asked me for the use of one of my private rooms,’ Madley said as he gestured towards the ceiling.
Brady knew that Madley had luxurious living quarters on the third and fourth floor, despite having a six-bedroom house on Marine Avenue. Not to mention the farmhouse in the wilds of Northumbria.
‘Why not use your hotel next door?’ Brady asked. Madley also owned the Royal Hotel as well as the two clubs in town.
‘Exactly what I said, but he claimed he didn’t want to be seen checking in with her. Never bothered him before, but I understand why now,’ Madley answered.
Brady thought it over. It didn’t sound like Matthews.
‘Are you sure he didn’t just want to take her upstairs so she could sober up before he took her home?’ Brady asked.
‘No,’ Madley firmly answered.
‘But why not use his car if he just wanted to shag her? Why use one of your rooms?’ Brady asked, puzzled.
Madley didn’t answer.
Brady knew he was holding back on him but he expected no less from Madley.
‘Then what happened?’
‘I refused to let him use any of my private rooms so he left with her,’ answered Madley.
‘What time?’
‘Sometime before twelve.’
Brady took a slug from his glass of whisky as he thought about it.
‘That means he couldn’t have done it. She was murdered by Ellison after Jimmy dropped her off,’ Brady said as a surge of relief rushed through him.
Madley continued to look out at the black sea.
‘Where’s the copper in you, Jack? You know that that dumb sod you’ve arrested didn’t murder her. Otherwise you wouldn’t be stood here now.’
‘Why wait until now? Why didn’t you call me as soon as you knew about the murder?’ Brady asked, doubting Madley’s good citizen act. ‘Yesterday when I came to you about Jimmy? Or even when I saw you this morning. Why didn’t you say something?’
‘This morning you had something else on your mind, Jack. Remember? And, as for yesterday, let’s say I was giving Jimmy some time to come forward.’
‘You know if he ends up inside, they’ll kill him because he’s a copper?’ Brady asked.
‘My heart bleeds,’ Madley answered.
‘And if he’s innocent? Something like this will ruin his career, his marriage, everything he’s ever worked for.’
Madley remained unmoved.
‘All he had to do was give me back what was mine. Instead, he goes into hiding. So what am I meant to think? He’s done this to himself, Jack. He’s a liability now. You of all people know the score. If word got out that I was a soft touch then what would happen to my business? No one steals from me, Jack. No one.’
Brady drained his glass and handed it back.
‘Thanks.’ Brady wasn’t sure whether he meant for the malt or for telling him about Matthews before telling Gates.
‘Still on for poker on Monday night?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘See you there, then,’ Madley replied as he turned back to the window.
‘Yeah,’ Brady replied quietly.
‘Oh and Jack, have you had time to consider your other problem?’
Brady turned and looked at Madley.
‘Yeah,’ he muttered. ‘Sort it, will you?’
Madley nodded.
‘Consider it already done.’
‘Thanks,’ muttered Brady.
‘You sure you’ve got no doubts? After all, he’s still your dad,’ Madley added.
Brady turned and looked at him.
‘He was never my dad,’ Brady answered as he tried to get rid of the image of the shabby, drunken tramp in his head.
Brady waited until he was outside before calling Matthews. Still no answer.
‘You stupid bugger, Jimmy,’ Brady said under his breath.
He lit a cigarette as he weighed up his options. He had none. The only thing he could do was go back to the station and watch the tape. After that, he could decide whether what Madley had was bad enough for Matthews’ career to be over.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Fuck, thought Brady as he tried to think straight.
Madley had been right, the tape was incriminating. Matthews’ career as a copper was finished. Brady felt his stomach lurch as he thought about what he’d seen.
Matthews seemed to be all over Sophie Washington; as much as she was all over him. He tried to swallow down the acidic bile that had forced its way to the back of his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Sophie was the same age as Matthews’ own daughter. Brady shook his head. This was Jimmy he was talking about; Jimmy. The betrayal he felt was beyond words.
Brady poured himself another Scotch as he sat in the heavy darkness. An orange glow from the street lights outside stabbed through the blinds. His phone vibrated again. He knew it would be Kate. But right now he couldn’t face anyone. And certainly not Matthews’ wife. He rested back in his chair and closed his eyes as he listened to the CD of Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings in an attempt to drown out his torturous thoughts. He took another mind-numbing mouthful of Scotch and waited. For what, he didn’t know. But wait was all he could do.
Minutes slowly passed as Brady sat in the dark accepting he had no choice. He was aware that as soon as Gates saw the tape questions would be asked. Matthews had withheld crucial information and to make matters worse, he had disappeared. Add to that the allegation that he had been taking backhanders from Madley, the local mafia boss. Right now things couldn’t get any worse.
Brady reluctantly picked up his phone and dialled.
Conrad’s voice answered. In the background Brady could hear shouting and cheering. It sounded like the team were still celebrating the case being closed. Brady slowly breathed out as he prepared himself.
‘Conrad?’
‘Sir, is that you?’
‘Yeah it’s me. I’m still at the station,’ Brady answered softly. ‘I need to talk to you. It’s important. And Conrad? Keep this to yourself. Whatever you do, don’t tell Jenkins.’
‘I thought the investigation was closed,’ replied Conrad.
‘I wish it was,’ muttered Brady. ‘Conrad, how much have you had to drink?’
‘Just a couple, sir. Why?’
‘I might need you to drive me somewhere,’ answered Brady.
He disconnected the call and waited. Conrad parked opposite Matthews’ house in Earsdon. He cut his lights and switched off the engine.
‘Wait here. If Matthews turns up call me,’ Brady ordered reluctantly.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Conrad asked.
Brady turned and stared at him.
‘You saw the tape. What do you think?’
Conrad didn’t reply. He couldn’t.
‘It’s better this way. I need to have a look around and see if I can get any leads on where he’s gone. I need to talk to him before Gates gets hold of that tape. Madley was serious about giving a copy to Gates. Once he sees it…’ Brady stopped, unable to finish.
They both knew what the outcome would be. Matthews’ career would be over. At least this way Brady might be able to convince Matthews to come forward and explain how the bloody hell he had got himself involved with Madley, not to mention his involvement with the victim. Maybe if Matthews came cle
an then the outcome wouldn’t include prison.
‘Conrad? If I’m not back out in ten minutes … well just bugger off. I don’t want you caught up in all of this. Understand?’ Brady instructed.
It wasn’t worth ringing the doorbell to see if anyone was home, he already knew the answer. He took out the set of keys he’d lifted when he’d first come to see Matthews.
‘Shit!’ he cursed as an alarm started its countdown. Brady had to think fast or he’d have uniform pulling up outside, or worse some security guards believing they were the law. This was Earsdon after all; expensive houses with lots of fancy goods inside.
He followed the noise to an alarm control unit under the stairs. Steadying himself he keyed in the code from Matthews’ old house and inwardly prayed. It went silent.
‘Shit,’ he muttered uneasily as he pulled himself together.
He didn’t have long. He looked around until he found what he presumed was Matthews’ study. The drawers to his desk had been ransacked. Matthews had obviously been in a hurry when he had left and grabbed whatever he could. However, a spare set of car keys had been left in one of the drawers.
Brady picked them up and headed towards the garage. Being a copper, Brady knew Matthews was aware of the likelihood of being traced. CCTV cameras were everywhere and once the police had a report on a vehicle it wouldn’t take long to track it down.
When Brady reached the utility room he tried the door which connected the garage to the house, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. It swung open into a large, dark space. He stepped down into the garage and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dense blackness. Matthews’ car was parked against the opposite wall. Brady felt himself trembling and knew it wasn’t just the cold.
Instinct made him try the boot first. It opened. There was a half-full black bin liner. Without thinking Brady shone his torch into it. He stepped back in disbelief at the sight of Matthews’ clothes; the exact same clothes he had worn to Madley’s nightclub the night of the murder. The pale shirt and tie were splattered in indiscriminate patches of rust-coloured blood. Brady had seen enough. He didn’t have the stomach to search through the rest of the bag and decided it was better left for the lab.
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