Unfinished Business

by Heather Atkinson

  Clarke frowned at the pair of them - a large Scottish man and a very attractive younger woman with extremely long hair. They didn’t look like a couple, in fact they looked all business. He couldn’t figure them out. The man’s Scottish accent rang a bell in his sleep-deprived mind. “You gave me the information about Johnson and Haines.”

  “How did that go by the way?”

  “Very well thank you. We caught them red-handed with a ton of weaponry. You have information about The Carver too? How is it you know more than the Manchester Police?” he said suspiciously.

  Clarke tensed when Brodie reached into his inner jacket pocket.

  “It’s okay, I’m just reaching for my card,” he said before producing one and holding it out to Clarke.

  “Who are you?” Clarke asked Cass as he accepted Brodie’s card.

  “She’s my associate, Cass Carlisle,” replied Brodie.

  Clarke glanced at the card. “Brodie MacBride. My business is unfinished business. What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m a private investigator. I used to be a police officer,” he added when Clarke rolled his eyes. “I was hired by a client to warn Sarah Creegan about her husband Mark who murdered his own father when he was seventeen. I believe you’re already familiar with the Creegans?”

  Clarke just stared back at him.

  “And of their background?”

  One single, begrudging nod was his reply.

  “My client fears The Carver is…”

  “Mark Creegan?”

  “Yes.”

  “You gave me the information about Johnson and Haines hoping I’d share information with you about The Carver case but you can get knotted. I’m telling you sod all.”

  “Johnson and Haines were on their way to hurt Seth Creegan, possibly kill him.”

  Clarke, who had turned to his front door, hesitated.

  “Coincidence his name comes up again, isn’t it?” pressed Brodie.

  “Listen, I’m really tired and I’ve been given a few hours to get some sleep, which I’m not going to waste sparring with you. I’ll give you five minutes of my time then you leave.”

  “Deal,” said Brodie good-naturedly.

  Clarke ushered him and Cass into a respectable semi-detached house, which felt cold and unlived in. The furnishings were bare and functional with nothing personal, nothing to indicate the owner had a life of any sorts. It was clear Clarke hardly spent any time here. To him a home was somewhere to eat, wash and sleep, nothing more. Brodie thought it a bit sad until he realised it was just like his own place, which disconcerted him.

  “Right, talk,” said Clarke, looking pointedly at his watch, making it clear they were being timed.

  “My client knows all about the original Carver murders in Camden, where the Creegans come from,” opened Brodie.

  “Who’s your client?”

  “Sorry, that’s confidential.”

  “I could get a warrant to find out.”

  “And I might get a sudden case of amnesia.”

  “We could check your records.”

  “I don’t keep any.”

  “None at all?” said Clarke incredulously.

  “Anything kept on computer can be hacked and anything written down can be read. It’s the only way to ensure absolute privacy for my clients and that privacy is what my business relies on. Can we discuss this later if and when it becomes necessary? I am on a time limit here.”

  “Keep going.”

  “My client was struck by the similarities in the two cases from what they read in the papers. They came to me to warn Sarah Creegan, they were worried she might be in danger.”

  “From Mark?”

  “Yes. Is he still a person of interest in the case?”

  Clarke decided to ignore the question. “So what’s Seth got to do with this?”

  “He’s a person of interest in The Carver case too, he has to be if Mark is. You’ve no reason to exclude either one. You think one or both are continuing their father’s work.”

  “Nothing was proved against Bryan Flynn.”

  “No but the officers on the case were pretty convinced it was him, we should know, we’ve spoken to them.”

  “You have been busy,” said Clarke. “Why get involved with Haines and Johnson? Do you think Seth’s going to confess anything to you because you helped him out with them?”

  “No. I’m hoping Haines and Johnson will turn on him, which will allow you to nick him. Then you’ll have all you need to look into him more closely and search his property.”

  “Fat chance of that, they’re saying nothing. They wouldn’t last five minutes in or out of prison if they started grassing.”

  “Dammit,” muttered Brodie.

  “Nice try,” said Clarke in a slightly more respectful way. “You seriously think he’s The Carver?”

  “I think he’s more of a valid prospect than Mark.”

  “Why?” said Clarke, looking seriously interested.

  “Mark’s too much of a…”

  “Wet lettuce?” offered Clarke.

  “That describes him perfectly. Other than the Creegan brothers, do you have any viable suspects?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Brodie tried not to look as impatient as he felt. “You do know Mark’s living with his wife and kids?”

  “Of course I do,” replied Clarke, becoming increasingly irritable. “I don’t believe he’s a danger to them. Now I think I’ve shared as much with you as I’m ever going to. It’s time for you to leave.”

  “In the space of one morning we’ve just helped you nick two drug dealers that you’ve spent years trying to take down. Surely you owe us this?”

  “I owe you sod all and if you don’t get out of my house I’ll nick the pair of you.”

  “We’re only trying to help.” Brodie could understand Clarke’s suspicion, he’d be the same in his shoes.

  “And I have to ask why. Out. Now.”

  “You’ve got my card, we’ll be in the area for a while. Call us anytime.”

  Clarke just stared at them stonily, not saying another word as they left.

  “Bugger it,” sighed Brodie once they were outside.

  “You did your best and to be honest, it did sound a bit odd,” replied Cass.

  “I know and now we’ve probably put ourselves on the suspect list.”

  Cass was unimpressed. “You mean you’ve put us on the suspect list.”

  “Yes, alright, I did,” he said, holding up his hands.

  “We’re going to have the police watching us now.”

  “Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll think of something. In the meantime I want to check out Bryan Flynn’s parents.”

  “The ones Mark suspected had abused him?”

  “Yep. Have you done any research on them?”

  “Briefly. All I know is they both died within three months of each other not long after Mark was released from prison. Harold Creegan died of a heart attack and his wife had a stroke shortly after.”

  “So nothing suspicious about their deaths?”

  “No. They both died in hospital.”

  “Any history of abuse?”

  “Not that I could find. If Mark was right about them abusing Bryan then it was kept quiet. Even if they did, is it relevant now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Brodie sensed someone watching them and spied Clarke looking out at them from his living room window. “Let’s discuss this later.”

  As Brodie got into the driver’s seat Cass took her laptop from the boot and joined him in the front.

  “Doing more research into Bryan Flynn’s parents?” he said, starting the engine, which coughed once before dying away. “Not a word,” he added when Cass flashed him a told-you-so look. “It’s just a hiccup.”

  “Sounds more like a death rattle to me. I said you should have kept the Focus.”

  “Have some faith,”
he said, trying the engine again. “Come on, come on,” he muttered.

  Eventually it spluttered into life and they were off down the street, Clarke watching them go.

  They’d only driven two streets when Brodie’s phone rang and he pulled over to take the call.

  “Hello?” He sighed and hung his head when the person on the other end identified themselves as a doctor at the hospital where his older brother had resided since he was a teenager. “Ricky’s having a bad day? No, I can’t come in, I’m in Manchester. You’ll have to call my sister, Natalie.”

  Cass looked up with concern when he banged his palm off the steering wheel. “No I can’t, I’m working. Tell her from me that she can pull her weight for the first time in her life, the lazy cow.” With that he hung up, exhaling furiously.

  “Ricky not so good again?” she said.

  “No. He went off on one during recreation time and threw a table into a wall. They’ve got him isolated from the other patients but he’s still raging and they can’t get close enough to sedate him. Apparently someone insulted the picture he was painting during crafts and he lost it. They’re lucky he threw a table and not a person.”

  “And Natalie’s trying to wriggle out of going over there?”

  “As fucking usual,” he glowered. “She never pulls her weight when it comes to Ricky, despite what he did for her when she was younger, what he did for us both,” he ended sadly. The Creegans thought they’d had it bad but Brodie’s childhood hadn’t been any better. “Found anything yet?”

  “Give me chance,” replied Cass, tapping at the keyboard, deciding not to comment on Brodie’s phone call, he wouldn’t appreciate it. “The problem is that if I do turn anything up it will mean another trip down south.”

  “I want to avoid that if possible, I need you up here watching my back. Not only is there Seth to contend with but I might get pulled into the station by Clarke some time soon. Let’s go to our nice new hotel, I’m getting hungry.”

  “Good idea. It’ll give me chance to do some proper research,” she said, closing her laptop.

  Brodie was delighted by the new hotel. A plush marble entryway with a chandelier greeted them, as did a friendly receptionist who actually smiled at them and called him Sir.

  “How much is this costing me?” he muttered to Cass as they followed a porter up to their rooms.

  “Relax, you can claim it back on expenses. Look, they do massages,” she said, pointing to the leaflet the receptionist had given them.

  “I hope you haven’t forgotten we’re here to work.”

  “Course not Bossman but you’ve got to keep up staff morale, especially when said staff have been working their arses off recently.”

  Brodie couldn’t deny that she had. Cass always threw herself wholeheartedly into every task he set her. “You can have one massage after we’ve sorted out this Creegan mess and I’ll pay.”

  “Thanks,” she said warmly.

  “Hmmm,” he frowned.

  They were placed in opposite rooms and when Brodie walked into his room his mood lifted. It was very comfortable and clean, tastefully decorated in greys and creams. It was a calming room, the bed large and luxurious, which he flopped onto on his back.

  “Mmmm, soft,” he said, eyes growing heavy. He’d only just realised how tired he was.

  “You asleep?” said a voice.

  Brodie opened one eye and lifted his head. Cass was perched on the end of the bed, looking amused. A lamp had mysteriously been switched on and looking to the window he saw the sun was starting to set. “How long was I asleep?”

  “I don’t know exactly but no more than an hour. Feeling the strain?”

  “No,” he mumbled, pushing himself upright and rubbing his eyes. “What time’s dinner? I’m starving.”

  “Always thinking of your stomach and they start serving at six thirty. Don’t you want to know what I’ve found out?”

  “What have you found out Cass?” he yawned. He looked at her properly and was startled into full wakefulness when he saw she’d let down her hair, which was damp. She’d taken a shower. He tore his gaze from her before it lingered too long and glanced at his watch. “Six o’clock. Make it quick, they start serving in half an hour and I need a shower.”

  “God forbid anything interferes with your mealtimes,” she said, flipping open a notebook. “Apparently little Bryan Flynn was hospitalised eleven times between the ages of four and eleven, after which he went to live with his grandparents. He never went back to hospital again.”

  “How did you find this out?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “Please tell me they’re legal. We’ve already got Manchester Police watching us.”

  “They are. I called Greenacre. His memory’s amazing when it comes to that family. Naturally he went into a lot of depth into the prime suspect for The Camden Carver murders.”

  “Thank God for that. So Greenacre thought Bryan Flynn was abused by his parents?”

  “Definitely but that didn’t give him licence to batter his own wife and kids.”

  “No but it does establish a pattern of abuse in the family going back more than one generation.”

  “I think it’s lucky Seth doesn’t have any kids.”

  “I agree and I can’t imagine Mark beating his own weans. They’d probably batter him if he tried.”

  Cass released her dirty laugh. “Probably but is domestic abuse enough to spark someone off as a serial killer?”

  “Not on its own.” He thought before asking, “did Greenacre say whether it was Bryan’s mother or father who abused him most?”

  “Mother. His father, Harold, wasn’t a well man. He had heart problems, memory problems and only one leg. He lost the other in a car crash. The mother, Jane, ruled with a rod of iron. Greenacre said Social Services intimated Bryan wasn’t just physically abused, he was sexually abused too.”

  “By his own ma?” he said, lip curling with disgust.

  “Sick isn’t it, which is why little Bryan was taken off them.”

  “Sounds like sick runs in the Flynn genes. But what led him to start carving things in women’s skin? Something must have set off that freaky fetish.”

  “God only knows but get this, Greenacre told me Jane Flynn had dark eyes and long brown hair…”

  “Just like The Carver’s victims.”

  “If Bryan married Maggie simply because she reminded him of his mum then no wonder he kept attacking her and telling her he hated her. He probably only married her so he could punish his mother every day for what she did to him.”

  “And when that wasn’t enough he started attacking other women who resembled her.”

  Brodie wished he’d asked Greenacre more about Bryan Flynn when they’d been in Hawkshead but he’d been more concerned with Seth and Mark. “How does that tie in with what’s happening today? Did Bryan imprint his trauma and hatred on Seth?”

  “I’d say so. Seth’s one big ball of hate.”

  “I’d love to know what Clarke’s got on him. He knew all about the family so he’s obviously looked into them all in some detail.”

  “I doubt he’ll tell us anything,” said Cass, snapping her notebook shut. “We just made him suspicious. No doubt he’s looking at us in detail right now. You ready for something to eat?”

  “Too right, I’m starving but I need a quick shower first.”

  “I’ll meet you in the restaurant,” she said, leaving the room.

  As Brodie exited the shower with just a towel around his waist his phone rang. He looked at the screen and released a grunt of annoyance. It was Natalie.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “That’s a nice way to greet your sister.”

  “Is this about Ricky? Because I’m warning you Nat, it had better be.”

  “I went over there, okay?” she snapped back. “He was still going off on one and nothing I did would calm him down. He needs you.”

  “Well tough because I’m in Manchester.”

>   “It’s not far, you can fly back.”

  “No I can’t, I’m in the middle of a case and I’ve told the local police I’ll be staying in the area.”

  “Why, what have you done?”

  “Nothing but I can’t leave now.”

  “Cass with you, is she?” she said maliciously.

  “So what if she is?”

  “Hoping she’ll shag you again? You really are sad and desperate.”

  “Stop changing the fucking subject. This is about our brother. Now you will go back to the hospital in the morning and you will stay there until he’s calmed down.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Someone has to because you’re useless on your own.”

  “Fuck you Brodie,” she yelled.

  “You remember what Ricky did for you?” There was silence on the other end but he knew she was listening. “The least you can do is visit him in hospital when he’s having a bad time or are you that fucking selfish?”

  Angry breathing puffed in his ear. “I owe him, I know, but so do you.”

  “I visit him every week. You go once in a blue moon. It’s your turn. Grow up and deal with it.”

  “Fine, I’ll go back in the morning but if it doesn’t work then it’s your turn.”

  “If I’m back in Glasgow by then.”

  “You’d better make sure you are,” she said before hanging up.

  Brodie stared at the phone before releasing a loud grunt of annoyance. No one could wind him up like his little sister.

  CHAPTER 16

  Brodie’s annoyance at his sister continued into the next morning and he sat in sullen silence at the table in the hotel restaurant as he consumed his full English breakfast.

  “Nice to see Natalie’s not spoilt your appetite,” said Cass as she nibbled on a croissant.

  “Nothing can do that,” he muttered, glaring at his orange juice.

  It was the first words they’d exchanged all morning. Brodie was grateful that Cass understood his moods so well.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, demolishing the last of his meal and pushing the plate aside. “Wouldn’t it be good if you could pick your family?”

  “I bet Lauren Creegan would agree.” She knew he’d appreciate his thoughts being taken off his own family.