“Andy Prior,” Flake said.
“So why do they call you Flake?”
The young man shrugged. “It’s what people call me. Don’t know why.”
“You’ve been giving pills to the younger element on the estate. Then you’ve been getting them to do your dirty work for you and distribute them. The products from your little enterprise are currently being sold all over Greater Manchester.”
“You can’t pin this on me. I ain’t done nothing. I’ve never had anything to do with pills, or drugs.”
“Who do we pin it on then, Flake? Care to give us some names?”
Flake shook his head, sullen.
“We’ll search your home. Your clothing. We can do tests and find out if you’ve handled drugs recently.” Calladine waited.
Flake looked rattled. “It was just a bit of speed, for our own use, like.”
“It was hardly that. You took over an entire factory. You were producing your little blue pills on an industrial scale.”
Calladine looked at the young man sitting in front of him. He was shabbily dressed, in scruffy jeans, a worn T-shirt and a jacket that wasn’t suitable for the weather. Someone was making a great deal of money from this, but it wasn’t him. “Who are you working for? Danny Newton?”
“No one. Just me and a mate. We had this idea and—”
“Which mate? What’s his name?”
Flake shrugged. “Can’t remember.”
“Who is it you’re frightened of? There has to be someone big behind this. You didn’t organise it all on your own.”
“Organise what? Like I said, it’s just a bit of speed.”
Calladine shook his head resignedly. “Okay. Tell me how you got the factory owner onside.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you can’t just walk in, take over a building belonging to a pharmaceutical company, order stock, start your own production and expect no one to notice.”
Flake looked down. “We just turned up and got on with it.”
“Rubbish! Who’s behind this? Who are you protecting?”
Before he could answer, Rocco walked in.
“I want Danny Newton finding and bringing in,” Calladine said. “Try the Hobfield. Ask around.”
“You won’t find him,” Flake said.
Calladine didn’t like the smirk on his face. “Lock this one up until he decides to be a little more helpful.”
* * *
Mandy Hamilton arrived while Calladine was interviewing Flake. He found her sitting with her son Dane in the soft interview room.
She scowled at him. “Second time this bloody week. Little bastard must think I’ve nothing better to do.”
“I’m afraid this time it’s a bit more serious, Ms Hamilton. Dane was caught with a gun. He fired off one shot, and then threatened to shoot another young man.”
Her face was a picture. Her mouth dropped open and she turned to her son, hardly able to get the words out. “Who gave you a bloody gun?”
Dane looked away, silent. He kept picking at the sleeves of his jumper, which was beginning to unravel.
“Who gave you the damn thing!” she screamed. “Tell me, Dane, or I’ll let them lock you away for a long, long time!”
“Newt gave it me,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to fire it. I got angry and it went off by mistake.”
“Do you know where Newt got it from?” Calladine asked.
“Some Mr Big he keeps on about.”
“Does this Mr Big have a proper name?”
“I guess,” Dane said. “But we don’t know it. Newt won’t say. Bloke could be anyone.”
Calladine had a bad feeling. If Dane was right, if there was a new villain out there, one who wanted his identity kept secret, they were in trouble.
“Are you sure you don’t have a name for this Mr Big?” He gave the lad a few moments to think about it. “You see, Dane, you’re in a lot of trouble. And I can’t do much about it this time. But if you help us catch the real culprits, things could go easier for you when this comes to court.”
At the word ‘court,’ Mandy Hamilton gasped.
“I don’t know nowt,” Dane said. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t grass. I’d get shot myself.”
“Back to the guns.” Calladine remembered that Henry Johns, who’d been holed up in the old church with the child, had also had a gun. “Been dishing them out, has Newt? Who else has got one?”
Dane shrugged. “How am I s’posed to know? But he can get as many as he needs. It’s a dirty business he’s mixed up in.”
Wasn’t it just! Calladine shook his head. “What else do you know about the drugs, Dane?”
“Nowt. I just deliver ’em. I ride around the estate on my bike, drop off the pills and collect the payment. I take the money back to Flake or Newt, job done.”
Mandy Hamilton stared at her son, her mouth open. “You’re twelve years old, for Chrissake! Where the hell has this come from?”
“I have to do summat to earn a crust,” Dane whined. “I need stuff.”
“Being in possession and using a firearm is a serious offence, Ms Hamilton. We can’t just let Dane go.”
“Dane, son, if you know something, anything at all, you have to tell the inspector. I don’t want you locked up like your dad. You won’t like it. It’ll stay with you for life.”
Wise words, but the lad didn’t look interested.
His mother turned to Calladine. “What will happen to him? What am I going to tell his dad?”
“That loser.” The lad snorted.
“Dane is a minor, a child. He’ll be taken to a secure unit where he’ll be looked after till his trial,” Calladine said.
“Can’t I take him home? Give him a good hiding?”
Calladine shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Mandy Hamilton was crying in earnest now. She’d obviously had no idea what her son had been up to.
“We’ll have to search your home,” Calladine said.
“Why? What do you expect to find?”
“More weapons? Drugs? Until we do a search, we don’t know.”
She sighed. “Do what you want. I’ve had it with the little bastard. His father’s a rogue, but even he’s never been this bad. He’s doing time for thieving, nowt like what this one’s got himself into.”
Chapter 30
“I want you to go. You’re upsetting Lara,” Alenka Plesec said. She stood with the child in her arms, watching Newt, who was peering through the net curtains at the square below. She could tell he was worried, nervous about all the activity outside.
“Bloody coppers are all over the place,” he muttered. “I want you to get out there, find out what’s going on. Who they’ve arrested.”
“No. It’s raining. I’m not taking Lara out in this.”
“Leave the kid here, then. I’ll watch her.”
No way that Alenka was going to do that.
Newt had come crashing into her flat about an hour ago, all riled up. From his garbled account, she gathered that one of the kids had tried to shoot Flake. “That kid the coppers took, he’ll talk. He’ll want to save his own skin,” he said.
“And why shouldn’t he? He’s only a child. You shouldn’t have used him.”
“You know shit. Just do as you’re told. I want to know what’s going on, what the coppers know. Cross me, Alenka, and you’ll suffer.”
Alenka took several steps back. Perhaps it was better to go outside, rather than stay in the flat with him. In this mood, Newt was volatile, dangerous. She was afraid for her safety, and Lara’s.
“Okay. I’ll get Lara ready.”
“No. On second thoughts, leave her here.” He gave her a sly smile. “Then if you cross me, you have only yourself to blame for the consequences.”
“I can’t do that. She’ll cry. She’s not happy when we’re apart.”
“Stick her in her cot and do as you’re told.”
“No. I will not leave her.”
“Y
ou will, or you’ll get some of this.”
Alenka gasped. He’d produced a gun from somewhere. This was a nightmare. She felt sick. He waved the weapon at her and she saw he meant it. She’d have to do what he wanted. She had no choice. Alenka still had Ruth’s card in her coat. She decided that as soon as she was out of the flat, she’d phone the detective and ask for help.
* * *
“Sir, have you got a minute?” Rocco asked Calladine.
But just at that moment the office phone rang. It was Alenka, asking for Ruth. Calladine took the call and handed the phone to her.
“What have you got, Rocco?” Calladine asked.
“Something a little odd,” Rocco said. He’d been poring over the mobile phone data.
But Ruth interrupted. “I think we may have a situation. That was Alenka Plesec. Her sister was the first victim. She says Danny Newton is holed up in her flat on the Hobfield, and her child is in there with him. He has a gun and he’s threatened them both.”
“Let’s get going. Organise armed response,” Calladine called to Alice. “Tell them to meet us outside . . . ?”
“Heron House,” Ruth said. “Alenka lives at number four on the first floor.”
Calladine nodded. “You and me, then.”
They ran out of the building and got into the car.
“These guns, where are they getting them from?” Ruth asked.
“God knows, but it has to be stopped. Where’s Alenka?” Calladine asked.
“She’s hiding in the entrance to the tower block. Newt sent her outside to find out what was going on. He’s obviously rattled.”
“He’ll be anxious that the lads might talk. Dane Hamilton hasn’t said much yet, but he will. Flake too. He won’t want to go down for longer than he needs.”
They pulled up outside Heron House. The place was eerily quiet. Armed response hadn’t arrived yet, but there were no youngsters to be seen anywhere. Alenka Plesec was standing in the doorway of the block of flats, shaking, tears streaming down her face.
“Please! You have to get Lara out of there. If she cries too much, he’ll hurt her. He’s not a nice man. He has a bad temper.”
“Did you see the gun?” Calladine asked her.
She nodded, sobbing.
“You stay with her,” Calladine said to Ruth. “I’m going up.”
“Be careful, Tom!” she called after him.
Too bloody true he would. He’d had enough rough stuff this week to last him a while. He walked along the first floor deck. The curtains of the flat were closed. He tried the door. It was locked.
“Newt!” he called. “Come out. It’s over.”
“Do one, copper, or the kid’ll come off worst.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Calladine said. “You’ll only make things worse for yourself. Don’t add anything more serious to the list of charges against you. Besides, there’s nowhere for you to go, and no one to help you. Your friends’ll talk. It’ll go better for you if you come quietly.”
Calladine stood and listened. He could hear the child crying inside the flat. Danny Newton was shouting at her, swearing. He was losing it. “Come on, Newt, you’re not doing anyone any good with this. You can’t win.”
Suddenly the door swung open. Newt had the gun in his hand, pointed at Calladine’s head. “Right. You and me’re going for a little walk.”
“The child?” Calladine asked.
“She’s alright. She’s in her cot.”
Calladine walked in front of him, slowly, the gun jammed into his back. This young man was seething with anger. For all Calladine knew, he could be high on some of the stuff he’d been peddling.
“Where are we going?”
Newt grunted, “Round the back.”
Calladine took a quick glimpse down at the square. He could see Ruth and Alenka below. Ruth waved at him. Armed response had arrived, and were getting set up. “Can I speak to my colleagues? Let them know the child is okay?”
“Shut it and move,” screamed Newt.
“There are marksmen down there, Newt. They’ve got their guns trained on your head. You need to stop this now. You carry on and they’ll shoot you.”
Calladine heard him groan behind him. The gun no longer pressed at his back. He looked over his shoulder. Newt had grabbed hold of the deck railing and was looking down. “Do something! Tell them to go away!”
“They won’t do that. You have to come with us, Newt. It’s all over.”
“No! You’ll lock me up and that’s not fair.”
“Put the gun down, come with me, and we’ll talk about it. You can tell me your side of it.”
Newt looked at him. He seemed puzzled. “Hey. You’re supposed to be dead. Dead, and buried on some Scottish hillside.”
“We’ll talk about that too.”
“Wasn’t my idea. That was down to the big boss.”
“And that is?”
Newt shook his head. “You don’t get me that easy, copper. I say anything about him and I really am dead. In custody, locked away, it won’t make no difference. He can get at me anywhere.” Newt leaned forward and put his face close to Calladine’s. “He has contacts in high places, see.”
Chapter 31
Keith Wrigley hated living rough. As far as he could see, the only positive was that no one recognised him anymore. He’d seen his face on the front page of the local papers. That meant the police were looking. But he’d grown a beard and his hair was longer. He was now a far cry from the clean shaven, short-haired jailbird of a few months ago.
He’d been released on license, and for a little while had stayed, as agreed, with his brother in Heywood, just outside Rochdale. He enjoyed his freedom — simple things like the garden, and being able to go down to the betting shop of an afternoon.
But all that changed when he heard the news that George Norbury had died in prison.
George’s death brought it all back, along with the promise he’d made to his friend. They’d talked a lot, and over time had come to trust each other. They’d shared confidences. Wrigley had killed a man, and knew perfectly well that he was guilty as convicted. But he’d done his time, and was no longer considered a danger. Norbury, on the other hand, always insisted on his innocence. He’d killed no one. He’d been set up, he said, told to take what was coming to him and keep silent. In or out of prison, it made no difference. His life depended on it.
When Wrigley first heard his story, it had sounded just like so many others. Prisoners were always telling anyone who would listen that they were innocent. Everyone was the victim of a miscarriage of justice. But there was something about George’s tale, and the man himself, that had convinced Wrigley. Over the years, George had grown tired of his situation. Initially, the man who’d set him up had threatened to kill his sister if he talked. But Iris was dead now, so there was nothing to lose by coming clean.
George had made Wrigley promise to go to the police and tell them, and explicitly to see CID at Leesdon. Apparently, one of the team that had nicked him still worked there.
Wrigley had left his brother’s home in Heywood without saying a word to anyone, and travelled the few miles on foot. He’d sometimes stayed the night in homeless hostels, but mostly he’d slept rough. They might be looking for him, but he was invisible. Within a short time, he’d become one of the many haunting the streets of Greater Manchester. He needed this time to work out what he would say. George had only told him so much. He said he hadn’t killed anyone. He said he’d been set up, but he never told Wrigley who by. Wrigley was well aware that without a name, the police were unlikely to take any of what he had to say seriously. Nevertheless, he was determined to give it a go.
Now Wrigley stood facing the desk sergeant at Leesdon nick. He saw the distaste on the man’s face when he looked at him. “I have to speak to someone. It’s important. It’s about an old case, and you lot need to know the truth.”
“See that little room over there?” The sergeant pointed. “Sit in there. I’ll get you
a cup of tea. Anyone in particular you want to see?”
“Someone who worked on the Norbury case.”
* * *
Calladine and Rocco sat facing Danny Newton, with the duty solicitor next to him. Newt didn’t look at all bothered by what was happening. He kept checking the interview room clock.
“Need to be somewhere, Danny?” Calladine asked. “That’s a shame, because you’re not going anywhere for a long time. Of course, if you talk to us, things might go easier for you.”
“Nowt to say, copper.”
Calladine smiled. “You see, that’s where we differ. I think there’s a lot you can tell us, Danny. First off, you can tell me about the guns.”
Newt folded his arms. “No comment.”
“It’s a serious offence, being in possession of a firearm, not to mention threatening folk with it.”
“Get lost.”
“Who’s behind setting up that building belonging to Buckley’s to produce the drugs?”
“No comment.”
Calladine sighed. This would get them nowhere. “Who are you afraid of?”
“Not scared of owt.”
“Yes you are, otherwise you’d talk to me. We’ve arrested the six people we found working in that building. They will be shown a photo of you. Recognise it, will they Danny?”
The young man scowled.
“I don’t think you realise the trouble you’re in, Danny. I can help you. Answer our questions, tell us who is really behind this, and it’ll go better for your case.”
“You talking a deal?” There was a flicker of interest. Then it was gone.
“We’ll see,” Calladine said. “That would depend on what you tell us, and how useful it is.”
“Piss off, copper. Talk to you and I’m dead.”
Calladine nodded. “Very powerful then, this big boss you’re terrified of.”
“Didn’t say I was scared, did I? I don’t grass is all.”
“If it was him in that chair, do you imagine he wouldn’t grass on you?”
“You might as well give up, ’cause I’ve got nowt to say.”
“Okay. Have it your way. In that case you’ll be staying with us a bit longer. We’ll keep having these talks. Sooner or later you’re going to tell me what I want to hear. When you’re ready to talk to me properly, just call out.”
DEAD BAD a gripping crime mystery full of twists Page 15
