by Graham Smith
‘I don’t make enough mistakes for them to boot my arse out onto the street. If we take you in and go through your accounts I’m sure we’ll find something to hang you on.’
‘Go on then, make the call. We’ll come quietly.’ Maureen held out her arms with her wrists together. ‘I warn you though. Pursuing us when you should be after a killer won’t help you. My sources tell me you’re already on a sticky wicket. Wasting all that time and money on us will only cover it in glue.’
‘Yeah but if we find something, the credit I’ll get for bringing you down will make me untouchable.’
‘Roll the dice Harry. I’m game if you are.’
The confident way her eyes never left his was un-nerving. She was calling his bluff big time. And that’s all it was from him, a bluff. He didn’t for one minute think the Leighton’s accounts would show anything other than what they were supposed to show.
Lauren came to his rescue. ‘Say we do bring you in and it turns out to be the waste of time you suggest. Do you think your business will be unscathed in the time we’re looking into it and you? It’s no secret Peter Nicholson is desperate to get his hands on some of your territory. I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance and you’ve no idea how slow some of our accounting guys are. They could take weeks; months even, to go through everything of yours.’
Maureen’s eyes narrowed to slits as Lauren’s words hit their intended target. The Leightons had taken years to reach the pinnacle of organised crime in Cumbria and had seen off many pretenders to their throne along the way. Yet Maureen was more aware than most to the dangers of bleeding in shark-infested water.
Time spent dealing with Evans’ faux enquiry, would distract her attention from the day-to-day running of her many businesses. Something somewhere would slip and Peter Nicholson or another rival would pounce. They may be able to reclaim their lost asset but it would take time and money to do so.
‘Let’s all cut the bullshit. Jimmy wasn’t under threat from anyone. Perhaps a few folk who lived next to the houses he managed tenants for weren’t happy with him, but I can’t see them sticking a knife in his back.’ A hesitation as she weighed up the consequences of her next words. ‘You know Jimmy was a player right?’
Evans nodded. ‘So I’ve heard. But I thought he’d knocked it on the head after the last time Kate found out. Beats me how that ugly bugger was ever a player though.’
‘Women are interested in more than looks. Jimmy had a real charm about him when he wanted something.’ A wistful smiled crossed Maureen’s lips. ‘He didn’t stop, he just got better at covering his tracks. Kate taking the boys to her sisters gave him a real wake-up call. It took him weeks to sweet-talk her into coming back but he didn’t change his ways.’
‘So who’s he been sleeping with?’
‘He was seeing a lass from Kendal on a regular basis.’ Maureen looked at Dennis. ‘What’s her name?’
Concentration drifted across Dennis’s already bleary eyes as he trawled his memory for a name. ‘Susan something or other. He didn’t talk about her much, but I know he met her at the Crown.’
‘Does she live in the area?’ Lauren accompanied her question with a smile and a slight lean forward.’
Dennis’ eyes found her intended target and locked on. ‘Yeah, she’s got her own place in the town but I don’t know where.’
‘Was he seeing anyone else?’
‘Not on a regular basis, but he’d shag a working girl anytime he got a spare few quid his wife didn’t know about.’
‘I think that answers all your questions Harry.’ Maureen’s tone was pointed. ‘Unless you want to make a fool of yourself.’
‘You called my bluff and I folded. Don’t be the kind of bitch who milks it.’
‘A bitch. Me? Surely you’re thinking of someone else.’ Maureen’s laugh was natural and girlish despite her advancing years. ‘I hear your Janet’s in the family way. Congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’ Evans couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He’d never expected to become a father, but when Janet had told him she was pregnant he’d realised just how much he wanted a child.
* * * *
Back in his beloved M3, Evans sped along London Road towards the M6 while Lauren put in a call to DS Neil Chisholm. The obese sergeant was a computer geek who could illicit all kinds of information from the internet which wasn’t held on the Police National Database.
Waiting until Lauren finished her call, Evans concentrated on getting to the motorway as quick as possible. It was getting too late to go knocking on doors. The later you disturbed the public, the less inclined they were too help you.
Thumbing the controls on the steering wheel he selected a number and put in a call to Will Cuthbertson the DI at Kendal.
‘Will, it’s the He-Man. I’m coming down your way and need to pick your brains.’
A disembodied voice popped out of the car’s speakers. ‘Al’right Harry, what do you need to know?’
‘You know the Crown on Junction Street? Owned by the Leightons?’
‘Aye. What about it?’
‘Do you know of a Susan who works there or is a regular or anything like that?’
A weary sigh came through the speakers before Cuthbertson answered. ‘Not that I can think of. There’s a Suzanne Thomas runs the Drake at Windermere but I don’t know of anyone called Susan who works at the Crown.’
‘No bother. Thanks any road.’
Evans hung up and corrected a slide as the BMW’s powerful rear-wheel drive pushed the back end of the car out as he sped round the roundabout.
‘What’s your thoughts on this guv?’
‘I think the answer is connected to his flies. Money is out the question. Big as he was, Watson wasn’t stupid enough to steal from them and he’s making plenty of money from them. His house showed as much.’
‘If you’re right about that, it puts the wife in the frame. Or one of the boys getting angry with him for hurting their mum for a second time.’
‘Possible. But which one of the four, and how would you prove it when the other three will provide alibis for them?’
‘Fair point. What about revenge?’
‘Doesn’t seem likely. If anyone had a grudge against him then it had to be someone brave enough to take on the Leightons as well. That hasn’t happened and you can be sure we just interrupted a council of war.’
Lauren pursed her lips. ‘If someone was making a play for the Leighton’s territory wouldn’t it be wise to take him out early?’
‘It would.’ Evans flashed a quick glance at her. ‘How many gangland murders have you heard of where the victim is stabbed in the back in his own kitchen?’
‘None, but by the same token, it could have been done that way to disguise the killer’s real target. By taking him out, the Leightons are either going to have to start looking after those tenants themselves, or find someone else to do it. I dunno about you, but I can’t think of anyone else in their gang who could fill his shoes.’
Lauren had made a fair point about the fact a rival may have disguised their intentions. Watson’s murder could be the beginning of a bloody turf war. With The Green Man as the headquarters of the Leighton Empire it was a logical target, but Evans doubted anyone would be brave enough to take on the Leighton’s there. Any direct attacks on them would be more likely to happen when they were divided. Killing Watson was a direct way to divide them as Tony or Dennis would have to step into Watson’s role until a suitable replacement was anointed.
Am I jumping at shadows here or should I put some kind of discreet surveillance in place? It’d be nice to see them taken down, but a turf war is bad news for everyone.
‘Say that is the case Lauren. Who would you point the finger at? Peter Nicholson isn’t yet strong enough to take them on in an open war and he’s the closest to the Leightons in terms of size and manpower.’
‘Who says it has to be someone local? What if it’s a firm from Newcastle, Glasgow or Manchester looking to expand their
operations? The Leightons might be big cheeses around here, but they’re small fry in real terms.’
Evans shook his head. ‘If it was a firm from elsewhere we’d be investigating the murders or disappearances of the entire Leighton family. Big fish don’t nibble a little fish’s fins, they eat them whole.’
‘Oh.’ Lauren’s head dipped forward a little. ‘So that’s why you think sex is behind it.’
Evans said nothing. He was interested in seeing what Lauren’s thoughts were. When you got past the pretty face and blatant exhibitionism she had a sharp mind.
‘If you think it’s sex related why aren’t you speaking to the wife and the boys when they are still consumed with grief?’
‘You’ve got until we get to Kendal before you have to answer your own question.’
Evans powered past a lumbering wagon and rounded a corner at such a pace he could feel all four wheels begin to drift. Correcting the drift with a touch of over-steer, he buried his right foot to the floor and thundered towards the next bend, unheeding of the treacherous conditions.
‘I’ve got it.’ Lauren’s voice tinkled with confidence.
‘I’ll drop you at the clinic, they’ll give you some penicillin.’
‘Very funny. Shall I see if they’ve got a cure for male pattern baldness when I’m there?’ Lauren was used to Evans’ barbed jokes about her sex life and knew the best way to deal with him was to give as good as she took. ‘You don’t think it’s the wife or one of the boys, you think it’s the husband or boyfriend of whoever he was knocking off?’
‘Well done. I’ll phone your mother and tell her to put an extra tattie on your plate as reward for your excellent deduction.’
Evans pulled out to overtake a slow moving Mondeo as Lauren searched in her handbag. ‘You’re such a wit. Or at least half a…Jesus Christ guv.’ Evans managed to get the BMW back into the left hand lane before the oncoming van hit them but it was a close thing.
‘Want one?’ Evans lit a cigarette and powered his window down an inch. Drops of rain blown through the window by the turbulent air splattered the side of his face.
The near miss had been closer than he’d cared for. He knew Janet worried about his high-speed driving. Now she was pregnant she refused to travel with him unless he promised to stick to the speed limits and avoid taking unnecessary risks.
Lauren pulled her phone out and called Chisholm again. Listening with the mobile jammed between ear and shoulder she jotted a few lines into her notebook.
* * * *
Chisholm had come through in spades for them. He’d managed to identify all the staff of The Crown by going through PAYE submissions. Finding no Susan listed as a Christian or middle name, he’d expanded his search to include family members of the full time staff.
The manageress had a married sister called Susan Galbraith. Checking her name against the Electoral Register he’d got her address and other details. She was the right age, her husband was a Sergeant Major in the Marines and she was the only Susan he’d found with a connection to The Crown.
Chisholm had also given Lauren the addresses of three other Susans who lived in Kendal but this seemed the most promising.
Evans parked on Greengate Lane and clambered out. Knocking on doors after ten o’clock on a Tuesday night in a respectable area would see them met with anger or fear for a family member’s health.
Looking along the street he saw most houses had their downstairs lights off. One or two had upstairs lights on where people would be reading or preparing for bed. The inhabitants of a street like this would all have work or school runs to cope with in the morning. Suburban life had its own timescales and Greengate Lane was the kind of place where every occupant would contribute to society.
‘C’mon then. Showtime.’
Walking past the immaculate garden, Evans pressed the doorbell and waited. Getting no answer he pressed again.
He heard the chimes but again there was no reaction.
Evans rapped his knuckles on the door. Hard
Is she a deep sleeper? Has she wrapped herself around a decent bottle of wine before bedtime? Is she out with another lover?
Taking a few steps back he looked for signs of life inside the house. There were none.
From the corner of his eye he could see Lauren pressing her mobile against her ear. She waved him over.
‘When you didn’t get an answer, I got DS Chisholm to track her mobile. He says it hasn’t moved from here since teatime yesterday.’
‘Shite.’
Either Susan was comatose inside the house or she’d gone out without her mobile. Knowing how few people left home without their phones, Evans had a sinking feeling about being able to raise Susan.
Every minute of Evans’s thirty years experience were telling him something was off. The house was in darkness, yet the curtains weren’t drawn. There was a car in the driveway, but the house seemed deserted. If Susan had gone out, she’d done so on foot and without her mobile.
Turning his collar up against the all-encompassing drizzle, Evans trudged towards a gate leading to the back of the house.
Stepping through the gate he found a narrow passage leading to the back of the house. A wheelie-bin was back up against the house wall, the house’s number hand painted onto its front as a mark of identification.
Reaching the back of the house, Evans found a rear door overlooking the garden. Looking up he saw the back of the house was also in darkness.
‘Shall I try the door?’ Lauren reached out a hand.
‘Gloves!’
Lauren’s eyebrows arched as she caught the significance of Evans’ instruction. ‘You think there’s something wrong?’
‘I dunno about wrong, but summat’s not right.’
Grabbing the handle with a gloved hand Lauren tried the door. It opened.
Evans touched her shoulder and intimated he let her go first. The gesture earned him a scowl.
‘I’m a trained officer.’
‘And I’m an inspector, step aside.’ Evans pulled out his collapsible baton flicking his wrist to extend it.
Pushing the door open with the tip of his baton he glanced left and right before stepping into the kitchen. ‘Hello. Anybody home?’ He’d learned the hard way never to enter a house without announcing his presence. When confronted by a stranger in their house, home-owners were liable to hit first and ask questions second, especially late at night.
No answer came back to him. Nor any sounds of movement.
Flicking on the light, he let his eyes dance round the room taking in the modern fittings and expensive gadgets as they searched for possible aggressors.
Opening the first door he came to he found a dining room. Six chairs surrounded a mahogany table, a matching dresser stood against the far. A large montage depicted a poodle-permed blonde accompanied by a man and a boy. The pictures charted the various stages of the boy’s life with the most recent picture showed him wearing the robes and mortar board of a university passing out ceremony. The man in the pictures was the same man and in at least half of the pictures he wore a military uniform.
Again there was no life to be found in the room.
Evans moved on to the next door and switched on the light. It was the lounge and just like the previous rooms, the furniture and décor was modern and expensive.
Evans looked at Lauren who shrugged. ‘She’s either upstairs or she’s gone out.’
‘Wow that’s clever of you. You should be a detective.’
Calling out as he went, Evans made his way into the hallway and up the stairs. Reaching the landing at the top he peered through three open doors to find un-occupied bedrooms.
That left the bathroom.
Evans banged on the door. ‘Susan. It’s the police. Are you in there?’
No answer. He looked at Lauren, reluctant to enter a woman’s bathroom when she may be lying in a state of drunken undress.
Her eyes rolled. ‘Now you want me to go first.’
Graspi
ng the door handle she teased the door open and reached for the pull cord. When the light came on Lauren and Evans gasped in unison.
A blonde woman lay in an empty bath wearing nothing but a cerise thong. It wasn’t her nudity which made them gasp. It was the ruined mess of her chest. To Evans’ eye it looked as if she’d been attacked by a demented butcher.
Slash marks and stab wounds decorated her entire upper torso. Evans checked for a pulse knowing he was wasting his time. There was no way anyone could have survived the wounds on this woman’s chest.
‘You call control. I’ll take some pictures.’
Evans used his iPhone to capture a number of pictures of the woman in her final resting place. The CSI team would document everything properly but he wanted to get a few images to have at his disposal right away.
Once he’d got the pictures, he made a call of his own. Questions were asked and answers given. A minute later he hung up and made enquiries of another source. Getting the information he wanted, Evans made a third call. The final one was short and to the point. Instead of asking questions he gave orders.
* * * *
It was well after midnight when Evans and Lauren were able to hand the investigation over to the CSI team. Will Cuthbertson had turned up wanting to help out but Evans had used his position in Major Crimes to pull rank and keep the investigation as his own.
There had been numerous emergency services arriving at the house and their presence had kept both Lauren and Evans occupied, as protocols were observed and procedures followed.
Now they were back in the car and returning to Carlisle he had a chance to tell her of the arrest he’d had made.
‘Kate Watson.’ Lauren lit a menthol cigarette. ‘Why do you reckon it’s her?’
