Wednesday, 30th July
Ian Mann didn’t say much as he drove, but that wasn’t unusual. But Hall didn’t talk much either, and that was.
‘You’ve got that internal enquiry later today haven’t you, Andy?’
‘How did you know? That’s supposed to be confidential.’
They both laughed. Keeping secrets from cops was about as likely as keeping the sand from your sandwiches on Walney beach.
‘You worried about it?’ asked Mann. ‘Word is that the ACC is for the chop. You’re a witness for the prosecution, I imagine. That must be tough.’
‘I’m trying not to think about it, to tell you the truth.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK. If I’m honest I’m not worried about Thompson, because I’ve got a feeling that he’ll come out of this fine. People like him know how to play the system, don’t they? And I don’t think they’re planning to try to drop me in it, but you never know, do you? If some senior officers worked as hard at protecting the public as they do at protecting themselves then the rest of us would be out of a bloody job. Anyway, how are you?’
Mann shrugged, and his right shoulder rubbed up against the door frame. He needed a bigger car, but he wouldn’t hear of changing his old Ford.
‘You know, much the same as always. Nothing changes. That’s how I like it, mind.’
‘Good.’
‘I wouldn’t mind getting this one squared away, though. Jane must be really feeling the pressure.’
‘She is.’ Hall had an almost overwhelming urge to confide in Mann, but he resisted, as he invariably did. ‘So how’s the team getting on?’
Mann glanced at him sharply. ‘You know about Keith, then?’
‘Yes. He told me last night. Says he’s jacking it in.’
‘Shit. I was hoping he’d change his mind. What was the context of this confession to uncle Andy, like?’
‘I told him that Jane wouldn’t sanction him picking up that Graham bloke, because of the connection to Jez Taylor. It’s understandable enough, in the circumstances. She doesn’t want him spooked.’
‘Taylor hasn’t killed anyone. The bloke’s a coward, like all bullies.’
‘I agree.’
They drove in companionable silence for a while, while Mann thought about what Hall had just said. ‘And you told Keith this in person, did you?’
‘Yes, it seemed to be for the best. And on the positive side he did say that he’d think again about leaving if we manage to nick Taylor for his part in the robberies.’
‘And you think that’s likely, do you?’
‘Oh, yes. Very likely indeed, I’d say.’
‘But I thought Jane told you to keep clear.’
‘She did, yes. But you know what really committed coppers are like, Ian. Sometimes they do what’s right, not just what the bosses say.’
‘And because he’s leaving anyway you reckon that he’ll just do the right thing?’
‘Possibly.’
‘And because of that he’ll decide to stay.’
‘If it works out as I hope it will then yes, I do.’
‘You’re a sneaky bastard, Andy Hall.’
‘You’re not the first person to say that.’
Mann laughed, and punched the steering wheel. It flexed under his hand. ‘And I won’t be the last, I dare say. So what do you reckon to this Somes lad? Could he actually be a contender?’
‘You know better than to ask that, Ian. Just covering the bases, that’s all. Trying to help out a bit.’
Mann drove fast but safely up over the Kirkstone Pass, and then down to the valley below. Hall always enjoyed that first view of Brotherswater, shining silver in the sun. Just before Glenridding Mann turned up a track, and they parked in a farmyard. A couple of dogs ran to the car, but Mann swung his door open anyway, and Hall followed suit. A tall young man emerged from a barn. He had a dead animal, a rabbit or hare, in his hand.
‘You the cops?’
‘Aye’ said Mann, showing his Warrant Card and introducing himself and Hall.
‘You’re the one who talked to me mam?’
‘That’s right’ said Hall.
‘Leave her alone, you hear? She can’t tell you owt about owt, can she?’
Hall nodded and pointed at the hanging animal in Somes’ right hand. ‘Dinner?’
‘Aye. Jugged hare. There’s nowt quite like it.’
‘Did you shoot it?’
‘No. One of the lads did, and he left it for me.’
‘Do they box, at this time of year?’
‘No, that’s the spring, like. Loads of them in Martindale. I don’t know if this is true, but someone told me that it’s not really the males boxing with each other, to have first go with a female, but the females trying to keep off the males that they don’t fancy. It’s mixed boxing, see. They put up a right good fight, either way. I can tell you that, like.’
‘We wanted to talk to you about Frankie Foster’ said Hall. ‘Your mum seems pretty bitter about him. About what he did to your family.’
‘Like I said, she don’t know owt. Me dad loved it out here though, by all accounts. He was a shepherd too, you know. So was me grand-dad, and his dad too, I shouldn’t wonder. It’s a shit job, like, the money’s crap and the prospects are non-existent, but I do love it. I don’t know why. Just can’t help myself, somehow. They say me dad loved it too. Won his share of fell races and all, when he was my age. Of course I don’t remember any of that. And it’s all ancient history anyway, isn’t it? No-one cares. And don’t take any notice of what my mum says about Frankie, he’s not to blame for what happened to dad.’
‘But he grassed on your dad and the others, didn’t he?’
‘Oh aye. He did that, all right. But he’d have been better off keeping his mouth shut and just doing the time, with the rest. Everyone round here knew what he did, see. I was surprised he ever came back, to tell the truth. But I suppose he had nowhere else to go, in the end.’
‘So you don’t blame Foster for your dad’s death?’
‘Oh aye, of course I do. But not just him. It was John Tyson who got my dad involved, told him it would be easy money, like. And he got that just a bit wrong, didn’t he? You know that my dad never saw these fells again, not after they all got nicked. He talked to me about it, that last time up here, when I visited him not long before he died. How the frost looked on the trees the last time he was up here, and how silent everything was when the snow came down. First big fall of the winter it was, that day. The day before they did the job, like.’
‘What were you doing, last Tuesday?’
‘Same as every day. Working, up here.’
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘Maybe the odd walker, I don’t know. Oh, aye, the folks renting the Bungalow, they saw me.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Mid-morning, about nine. Half-past. I start at six, remember.’
‘How about your mobile? Did you make or receive any calls? Send any emails?’
‘No. There’s no signal. You’re unreachable up there, like.’
‘Are you sorry that Frankie Foster is dead?’
Somes held up the hare by its back legs. ‘No more than that this is. Less, probably. It just doesn’t matter.’
‘Do you have any idea who might have killed Frankie then? How about John Winder?’
Somes looked genuinely surprised. ‘John? No, of course not. He’s the only one who came out of it all well, isn’t he? He’s a good bloke, is John. Never grassed, did he? Got me this job on the estate, he did, and he bought me my pick-up. Brand new it was, too.’
‘Why did he do that?’
‘You’d have to ask him that. But he can afford it. And I’m not the only one round here that he’s helped, mind.’
‘How about Tyson then?’
Somes shrugged. ‘Search me, like.’
‘You’re not being very helpful.’
‘I don’t know owt, that’s why. But one t
hing I will say is that Frankie wasn’t a saint. He might have been up to all sorts.’
‘Like what?’
‘You’re the coppers. But that’s all I’m saying. My dad was no grass, and I’m not, neither.’
‘So why did you talk to us at all?’
‘So you’d leave my mum alone. We’re nowt to do with any of this. What happened to my dad was his fault, when you get right down to it. He could have said no to that bloody robbery, and if he had he could be here now, with me, couldn’t he? None of this would even have happened, if he’d been out here, like.’
‘He was surprisingly chatty’ said Hall, as they were driving back up the steep, winding section of the pass.
‘He just wants us off his back.’
‘Probably. Do you reckon he’s worth closer attention?’
‘No, not really. Do you?’
‘No, I don’t. But we need to try to check his movements for last Tuesday, and his mum’s too. From all this to Strangeways, that’s a heck of a bloody journey that his dad took. And all because John Tyson opened up on a closed bank with that gun. It was all so utterly pointless, really.’
‘You know it was him who fired? Tyson?’
‘I’m pretty sure. He admitted it to me, anyhow, and I can’t see why he’d lie. Maybe the kid’s right. Maybe Tyson is the one that he and his mum should blame. But she’s way past blaming anyone, except herself of course.’
‘The kid seems to be reasonably sorted, considering.’
‘Exactly what I thought. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. So let’s hope he’s played no part in this. I bloody hate it when I see a new generation repeating the mistakes of the last.’
‘So you’re hoping that none of your kids will follow you into this job then, Andy?’
They both laughed.
‘You’ve never said a truer word, mate. I sometimes wish that I’d done something else, all these years.’
‘Like what?’
‘That’s the trouble. I’ve got no bloody idea. Rock star might have been nice, but I’m not sure I could manage all those late nights. Not these days, anyhow.’
The desk Sergeant sounded like he didn’t give a shit when Keith called in and said he’d be late for his shift. He didn’t even ask why. Iredale didn’t feel remotely guilty, because he owed Cumbria Constabulary nothing, and in any case he was working. He just wasn’t where he was supposed to be, or doing what he’d been told to do, that’s all. But what’s the worst that could happen?
It had taken him a bit of time to track down Eric Graham, because he wasn’t at the office, and he wasn’t where he’d told his boss that he’d be either. But the cafe in Kendal where he was sitting having breakfast was one of Iredale’s favourites, so he ordered at the counter and walked over to the table where Graham was sitting. He looked up, surprised, in mid-mouthful, because most of the other tables were vacant, and he looked properly frightened when he saw Iredale’s Warrant Card.
‘Ask me to join you, there’s a good bloke.’
‘Aye, aye. Sit yourself down.’
Iredale sat, and looked across the table at Graham. He was a pale man of about forty. Or at least, he was a pale man now.
‘I expect you’re wondering why I’m here.’
‘Aye’ said Graham, cautiously.
‘And I’m alone. You see that, don’t you?’
‘Aye.’
‘Don’t worry, Eric, it wasn’t a trick question. We normally travel in pairs, when something is important.’
‘So this isn’t important?’
‘Oh aye, very important. You’re going to lose your job soon, and there’s nowt I can do about that. You’ve brought that on yourself, like. But I’m giving you a choice. Right here and now. And this is strictly a one time offer. You can either choose to be a witness, in which case you won’t go to prison, or you can be in the dock. And then you’ll be sent down for a good few years. I don’t think you’d like prison, Eric. It’s nothing like as much fun as it looks on the TV.’
‘But it doesn’t look like fun on TV.’
‘Exactly. It’d be a living hell for a sensitive man like you. Living every day in fear. That’s the thing about prison, it’s full to the bloody rafters with criminals. Nasty, violent men. There’s absolutely no reasoning with most of them. Still, you’re not going to prison, are you?’
‘I hope not.’
The chef brought out Iredale’s breakfast, and he thanked him for it.
‘This looks great’ he said to Graham. ‘Let’s get stuck in.’
Iredale ate, but Graham didn’t.
‘Lost your appetite? I’m not surprised. So you know what this is all about, I assume?’
‘No. Not really.’
Iredale took another bite, and washed it down with some tea.
‘That’s the wrong answer, I’m afraid. Because either you’re involved with more than one criminal enterprise, in which case you really are in the shit, or you’re reluctant to talk about the one that I’m here to talk to you about. So you really have to ask yourself one simple question, Eric. Who are you more frightened of, me and all that I represent, or a stupid bastard like Jez Taylor? So,once again, do you know what this is all about? Now that I’ve given you a little clue, like.’
‘Aye, I do. But he forced me to tell him, honest.’
‘Forced you how?’
Graham hesitated, so Iredale enjoyed another forkful as he waited. It really was a superb cooked breakfast.
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘Not an option, I’m afraid.’
‘All right. I had a bit of thing with a client, you know. But she owed Taylor money, so…’
‘Blackmail?’
‘Aye.’
‘That’s good.’
‘How?’
‘Mitigation, for you. When it comes to trial.’
‘Who said anything about a trial?’
‘So you gave Taylor the details of likely targets for robbery, is that right?’
‘Aye, I suppose so, but like I say…’
‘Do you know who carried them out?’
‘No. I’ve just seen on the news. Some girl, it was.’
Iredale ate in silence for a few minutes. ’All right.’ Iredale pushed away his plate. ‘Now this is the bit that matters. You know the phrase, ‘helping Police with their enquiries?’’
‘Aye, of course.’
‘Well that’s what you’re going to do now. Do this right and I’m going to do everything I can to help you, Eric, I really am. So, here’s the question. When you met with Taylor in town did you give him more names?’
‘Aye, three new ones, but he was only interested in one.’
‘Who was that?’
‘An old man called Anthony Williams, a retired antiques dealer. Moved up here from London a few years ago. His house is full of nice stuff, apparently.’
‘And where does he live?’
‘Kendal Green. I don’t know the number.’
‘That’s all right. What else was said?’
‘Nowt, really. He took the details, and I told him that the old boy was going into a home soon. The house would get cleared out soon after.’
‘When does he move out?’
‘The next couple of days.’
‘Shit’ said Iredale, getting up quickly. ‘Don’t think of taking any holidays, anything like that, Eric. You just wait for my call. But you’ve co-operated. In fact, now I come to think of it, you contacted me and asked for this meeting. Your conscience has been troubling you, see. You got that?’
‘Aye.’
‘Good.’
Iredale took a twenty pound note from his pocket.
‘That’s for our breakfasts. And not a word to anyone about this, you understand?’
An hour later Iredale had indigestion, but he knew exactly where Anthony Williams lived. He also knew that nothing would happen that day, because the old man had answered the door when he’d knocked, and told him that he wouldn’t have
time for any crime prevention advice that day, because his daughter was taking him to the hospital, and would be staying until the evening. Iredale promised that he’d return the next day.
‘You do have a burglar alarm, Mr. Williams?’
‘I do, and I always set it when I go out. I check all the window locks too.’
‘That’s good. Well, be extra careful today, sir, and I’ll pop back in again tomorrow.’
As he walked back to his car Iredale thought about calling Ian Mann, and telling him what he’d found out. But he didn’t. Because he would catch Tiffany Moore red-handed on his own, and Jez Taylor too, come to that. It would be a fitting way to end his service, if that was the way it went. He’d go and collect a pay packet protecting a nuclear plant that he doubted many would-be terrorists could even find, let alone manage to attack. But he’d take their money, and he’d build a life outside the job. Maybe there’d be kids in it, and long summer evenings playing on the beach at St. Bees.
Andy Hall sat outside the old conference room at HQ and wondered when he’d last worn a uniform. It was at a colleague’s funeral, but whose? He couldn’t quite remember. Some long-retired Superintendent who he’d probably never even met. He’d been ordered to attend for the inquiry at ten, and when he looked at his watch he’d already been sitting for an hour with his phone off, and his laptop stowed away in his bag. He didn’t need to rehearse his answers, because he’d already decided to do the one thing that guilty suspects never quite managed to do. He’d listen to the questions, and keep his answers brief and factual. No opinions, no digressions. So instead he’d tried to think about the case, to help Jane if he could, but instead he kept thinking about her, and about what their life would really be like when their child was born. Would she want to stay at home when her maternity leave ended, or would she be desperate to get back to work at the first opportunity? He realised that he had no idea. She’d always said that she’d go back at the end of her full leave allowance, but how could she be so certain?
A uniformed Inspector came out of the conference room, and Hall followed her back in. Three men sat on the far side of the table, with two support staff at the far end. Hall saluted, since he’d practised in the bathroom that morning, and sat down when invited.
Mortal Men (The Lakeland Murders Book 7) Page 22
