Stolen

by Paul Finch

  ‘Nothing like that, ma’am. I’d have reported that already.’

  The DSU munched more toast. ‘I might as well put you in the picture fully. Something happened in the early hours of this morning, which, frankly, only an idiot would not connect to the McCracken shooting. A stolen bus was found burning on wasteland down near the old Bleachworks. You know that place?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘The bottom end of the Aggies. Where the colliery used to be.’

  ‘That’s right. Well, the Fire Brigade managed to put it out, but inside they found two male bodies. The bus driver, and another one whom we’ve now identified as a former police officer called Miles O’Grady.’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Don’t know him.’

  ‘He was dismissed several years ago on corruption charges. Been working as a private eye ever since. The main thing is, it seems that he was in possession of an unlicensed firearm, which might very well be the same weapon that fired those shots into McCracken and his girlfriend. It’s currently undergoing tests. More important, though, Lucy, especially where you’re concerned, is that, though the post mortems haven’t been completed yet, and it’ll take a bit of time as the bodies were badly charred, there’s a clear indication that both men were garrotted with some kind of neck-wire.’

  Lucy sat up sharply, but Nehwal was still talking.

  ‘Now, is it my imagination or did you say something to me on the phone yesterday about one of the dead dogs you found on the landfill having been garrotted with wire?’

  ‘I did say that,’ Lucy replied. ‘A few of them, in fact. Ma’am, does this mean—’

  Nehwal raised her palm. ‘Let’s not rush ahead of ourselves. It’s still tenuous. But it’s now looking possible that the abduction of Harry Hopkins and Lorna Cunningham could be connected to a double murder. So, as SIO, the first thing I’m doing is having you and your oppos on the abduction case attached to the murder enquiry. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it with Stan. In addition, I’m arranging for a full CSI team to examine that dog burial site out on the landfill—’

  ‘You might want to hold your horses on that,’ a voice intruded.

  They turned and saw Stan Beardmore approaching. He was sallow-faced from lack of sleep and wore a grim expression.

  ‘Okay,’ Nehwal said. ‘Why?’

  The DI looked at Lucy first. ‘Apologies that no one told you about this sooner, but I’ve only just been told myself. It seems that doggie-grave, or whatever it was, has been incinerated.’

  Lucy stood up. ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘Someone drowned it in petrol and put a match to it.’

  ‘I put a guard on it. It was being watched all night.’

  He shook his head. ‘Because of the extra security we needed at the hospital, not to mention the extra bodies needed at Crowley Old Hall, the bus station and then down on the Aggies, Nights had no one available.’

  ‘In that case, Malcolm Peabody should have stayed on,’ Lucy retorted. ‘He had orders to stay there until he was relieved.’

  ‘PC Peabody’s on his way to hospital,’ Beardmore said. ‘Seems the morning shift did have someone to spare, and they’re the ones who found him.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Sorry, Lucy. You know as much as I do.’

  ‘Mum, it’s me,’ Lucy said.

  ‘I thought it might be,’ came the humourless voice at the other end of the line.

  ‘Look …’ Lucy glanced around. She was in the personnel car park, waiting by Priya Nehwal’s metallic beige Lexus RX. There was no sign of the DSU as yet, so she felt free to talk. ‘I want you to stay away from the hospital.’

  ‘Do you indeed.’

  ‘Mum, this really isn’t a game.’

  ‘Already, Lucy?’ Cora’s tone tautened. ‘It’s not nine o’clock in the morning yet, and I’m already on the end of another of your officious lectures.’

  ‘Mum … if you won’t listen to me, at least listen to the facts. There was a double murder in Crowley last night. Two men were strangled and burned. Very likely, in fact almost certainly, it was retaliation for what happened to your beloved Frank McCracken. And it might not end there.’

  Cora greeted this with shocked silence.

  ‘These are very dangerous people,’ Lucy said. ‘And Dad’s as bad as any of them. I’m terrified that if you get re-involved with this man, you’ll end up getting hurt. Maybe worse.’

  ‘Lucy …’ Cora’s voice had changed slightly. There was less annoyance there now. ‘I know you don’t remember it, but … well, I was part of that world once.’

  ‘No, Mum … you weren’t. You were a stripper in a sleazy nightclub. Everything’s got a lot worse since then, especially where Dad’s concerned. Back then, his job meant throwing drunks out. It’s a thousand million times more violent now.’

  Lucy was still stunned that she was having this conversation. The mere thought that Frank McCracken might even be vaguely interested in recommencing a relationship with middle-aged ex-flame Cora seemed surreal, if not downright ludicrous, except that he’d been so ambivalent when Lucy had laid it on the line for him.

  ‘How is he anyway?’ Cora asked.

  ‘He had minor surgery last night, but he’s okay. He was talking a short time after.’

  A faint sigh sounded.

  ‘Can’t you just stay away?’ Lucy begged her. ‘For a couple of days, at least. I mean, St Winifred’s is a hive of police officers at present. DSU Nehwal’s on the case. She knows you’re my mother, and if she spots you hanging around, she’ll want to know why.’

  ‘I can’t help how I feel, Lucy.’

  ‘I know that, but … he just isn’t the man he was. You were a daft girl then, Mum, and he was a daft lad. Trust me, so much has changed … and much, much for the worse.’

  Another sigh, this one deeper, more heartfelt. ‘I’ll stay away.’

  Lucy closed her eyes with relief.

  ‘But only for a day or so. He sent me those flowers and birthday wishes, Lucy. He’s the only man who’s done anything like that for me in the last thirty years. I have to go and check on him at some point.’

  ‘Okay, fair enough.’ Lucy didn’t like that caveat but supposed she could work with it. ‘Just be careful when you do. Make sure there’s no one around who knows you.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  She’ll try. Wonderful …

  The station’s personnel door banged closed. Lucy turned, and saw Nehwal approaching, digging into her capacious pockets, presumably for her car keys.

  ‘I’ve got to go, Mum. I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Lucy cut the call.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Nehwal asked.

  ‘My mum. She heard about the shootings on the news. Wanted to make sure I’m okay.’

  Nehwal nodded and climbed in behind the wheel. Lucy slid into the front passenger seat.

  ‘We’ve heard from St Winifred’s,’ the DSU said as she drove them out. ‘Your pal Peabody’s going to be all right.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’

  ‘Someone clouted him with a blunt object. He’s had stitches and he’s got concussion, but they’re letting him out.’

  ‘We’ll need to debrief him.’

  ‘I’ve already sent that message. He might be on sick leave, but he’s only going home via Robber’s Row.’

  As it happened, Malcolm Peabody was the first person they saw on arrival at the hospital. They were in the car park, climbing from the Lexus, when the tall, lanky figure, still in the suit he’d been wearing yesterday, now muddy and crumpled, emerged from A&E with ashen features. He didn’t see them at first and walked unsteadily towards the taxi rank. Lucy noticed that the back of his head now sported a huge plaster, and that streaks of brackish, congealed blood lay all down the back of his jacket.

  ‘Malcolm … hey, Mal?’ she said, approaching.

  He turned dazedly, recognising her straight away, but not bothering with his usual c
heeky grin. ‘Morning, Lucy. Oh, Ma’am … how are you?’

  ‘Better than you, by the looks of it,’ Nehwal replied.

  Up close, he wasn’t just pale and pained, he was dirtied by smoke. He’d clearly tried to wash his face but had missed most of his forehead and chin.

  ‘Do you want to tell us what happened?’ Lucy said.

  ‘Got walloped from behind. Sorry, but whoever it was, I didn’t even hear them coming.’

  ‘Were you paying attention?’ Nehwal asked.

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am?’ His words were polite, but his tone hovered on the verge of insolence.

  ‘I mean were you tired or did they get the drop on you by using stealth?’

  ‘Could be the difference between a bunch of yobs with nothing else to do, Mal, and something more sinister,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Oh right …’ Now he understood, his expression turning apologetic. ‘I thought I saw someone, but I honestly can’t remember. There were weird things going on all night, to be honest.’

  ‘What weird things?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ Nehwal cut in. ‘You’ll have to put all this in a statement, PC Peabody, you understand?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Erm … when?’

  ‘Now. While it’s fresh in your mind.’

  Delicately, he touched his left temple. ‘Nothing feels very fresh inside here.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but your recollection at present is as good as it’s going to get.’ She slid her phone from her pocket. ‘I’ll make a call, get a patrol to take you back to Robber’s Row. Afterwards they can take you home, but before then we’re setting up the Incident room on the top floor. Go up to it and speak to Detective Sergeant Brannigan from Serious Crimes. Tell her I sent you and to explain the situation.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘Incident room … for a police assault?’

  ‘Kate Brannigan will fill you in properly, after she’s taken your statement.’

  He nodded as though all that made sense, even though it patently didn’t. Nehwal wheeled away from them, speaking into her phone.

  ‘Sorry, Malcolm,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Hardly your fault.’

  ‘I’d say you look rough as a badger’s arse, but you usually do on earlies.’

  ‘Cheers.’ He grimaced slightly. ‘When I woke up, I thought I’d died and gone to hell. Swamped in smoke, heat from the fire. Felt like a steamroller had gone over me. I had no phone or radio to call it in, so I tried to walk back. Collapsed halfway. Next thing, there was a uniform there.’

  ‘Least they’ve patched you up.’

  ‘Yeah, and shot me full of drugs, thanks to which I’m feeling dizzy as shit. I turn too quickly, and I think I’m going to faint. Sick as a dog too. Must have puked up about three times since they brought me in. It was black – from all the smoke I inhaled.’

  ‘It’s tough, I agree … but I think you were lucky, Malcolm.’

  He looked at her askance. ‘Is that a joke?’

  ‘No, seriously. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I think you were very lucky indeed.’

  Peabody was still eyeing her sceptically about two minutes later, when a patrol car swung into the hospital car park. Without another word, he climbed in and was taken away.

  ‘Now, the real reason we’re here,’ Nehwal said.

  Lucy looked at her. ‘Sorry, ma’am … the real reason?’

  Nehwal set off walking. ‘I’m assuming he’s still in ICU.’

  Lucy followed. ‘McCracken?’

  ‘Who else?’

  Chapter 36

  When they reached the ICU entrance, a single uniform was on duty outside. They flashed their warrant cards and he passed them through. At the interior door, the day nurse, also after checking their IDs, buzzed them in. Two firearms officers in full battle-kit, MP5 carbines held across their chests, were standing outside McCracken’s room, talking and chuckling together as they sipped from paper cups. They knew Nehwal on sight and nodded to her as they stepped aside.

  Inside the room, the gangster looked in better shape than he had done the night before. He’d regained his complexion and was sitting upright, a rack of pillows behind him, his left arm fixed in a sturdy but comfortable-looking sling. A trolley stood to one side, the remnants of his breakfast on top of it. A newspaper lay on the coverlet.

  He gave them his trademark wolfish smile. ‘And who might you lovely ladies be?’

  ‘You can save the smarm, McCracken.’ Nehwal showed her warrant card and stuck it back into her pocket. ‘I’m not lovely and she’s not a lady … she rides a Ducati and she bangs idiots like you in jail for a hobby.’

  He glanced from one to the other, his mouth a perfect O. ‘Now you’ve got me intrigued.’

  ‘Actually, we’re the ones who’re intrigued. I’m Detective Superintendent Nehwal, Serious Crimes Division. This is Detective Constable Clayburn, who once locked you up, you may recall.’

  McCracken arched an eyebrow at Lucy, but no light of recognition came into his eyes. ‘Sadly … it’s happened so often.’

  ‘Hey,’ Nehwal said. ‘It may happen again.’

  He frowned. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it me who got shot?’

  ‘Yes, but you weren’t the only one who got hurt last night, and that’s a problem for us.’

  ‘Ah … so, do I need to have my solicitor present?’

  ‘I don’t think we need to make any of this official just yet. And I think it’s safe to say that, whoever did what we’re here to talk to you about … it wasn’t you.’

  He shrugged, wincing slightly. ‘In that case I’ll endeavour to assist you any way I can.’

  ‘Great. So how well do you know Miles O’Grady?’

  Again, he looked blankly from one to the other. ‘I don’t know him at all. Am I supposed to?’

  ‘He’s a former police officer,’ Nehwal said. ‘An ex-detective chief inspector with the Fraud Squad, no less. Three years ago, he was dismissed on suspicion of corrupt practices.’

  ‘Oh dear. Another one, eh?’

  ‘Though we actually suspect he may have been guilty of a whole lot more.’

  McCracken tutted. ‘The standard of your recruits has taken a real nosedive in recent years.’

  ‘Either way, it’s all irrelevant now. Because he’s dead.’

  ‘I see.’

  Lucy watched McCracken carefully; he expressed only mild surprise and concern at this, which would be the expected response if the deceased was someone he didn’t know. But then her father was an expert at playing this game.

  ‘He died last night,’ Nehwal said. ‘About five hours after you got shot.’

  ‘Well, Manchester’s a rough old city these days.’

  ‘He died rather unpleasantly, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’ He still didn’t seem overly affected.

  ‘We found him in a burnt-out bus.’

  He shook his head. ‘Disrespect for private property as well …’

  ‘Alongside the body of the bus driver.’

  There was no immediate chippy response to that. For the first time, Lucy thought she spotted a flicker of emotion on her father’s face, a very slight tightening of his features, as if that last bit of info was something he really hadn’t wanted to hear. And this, she now realised, was exactly what Nehwal was aiming for. McCracken was an underworld professional. He’d never hesitate to kill if he deemed it necessary, but he wouldn’t like collateral damage, because that was always messy.

  ‘Maybe it was just an accident,’ he said in a reasonable voice. ‘And this O’Grady guy was the last passenger on the last bus home.’

  ‘If only it was that simple,’ Nehwal replied. ‘Both bodies were extensively burned, but not to such an extent that we couldn’t identify the cause of death fairly quickly.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re dying to tell me what that was.’

  ‘Strangulation. With some kind of steel wire. There’s no question that they both suf
fered. This was an exemplary kind of hit, wasn’t it, Frank?’

  He frowned again. ‘A hit?’

  ‘Let’s not play silly buggers,’ Lucy couldn’t resist saying.

  He regarded her coolly.

  ‘Not only exemplary in that it would teach a lesson to anyone else thinking of taking on the Crew,’ Nehwal said. ‘But also, unintentionally, as a stand-out example of how not to do these things.’

  He frowned all the more. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘What I mean is, Frank … we don’t just have the bodies, we also have a weapon.’

  He remained bemused. ‘The steel wire?’

  ‘No,’ Nehwal said. ‘There was a gun there too. A Taurus .357. It was badly burned, obviously. We’ll not lift any prints off it, but there’s enough of it left for our ballistics lab to give it a good going-over. See if it matches up with any recent shootings we might be investigating.’

  ‘Like mine, for example.’ He smiled. ‘Now wait a minute, don’t tell me … if that gun is the same gun that fired the shots that downed me and Charlie, you will definitely be coming back to talk to me, and on that occasion, I will need my solicitor.’

  ‘You seem very relaxed about that,’ Lucy said.

  ‘And why shouldn’t I be, DC Clayburn? As you yourself have already admitted, I was lying right here. There’d be nothing I’d be able to tell you, under caution or otherwise, that I couldn’t tell you right now.’

  ‘After you were dumped outside the hospital last night,’ Nehwal said, ‘before you were taken into surgery, you made a statement that you had no clue who the shooter was.’

  He nodded. ‘Pretty sure I was hit by the first round. Charlie and I were just getting into the car when someone called my name. I looked, but there wasn’t enough light to see who it was. The next thing though, bang-bang. And we both went down.’

  ‘He called your name?’ Nehwal said. ‘Not a professional, then?’

  ‘Not much of one, no.’

  ‘Or he wanted you to know who was shooting you?’

  ‘If so, he failed.’

  ‘So you definitely didn’t see his face?’

  ‘Do you think I wouldn’t tell you?’

  Lucy snorted. ‘You don’t seriously want us to answer that question, do you?’