Behind Dead Eyes

by Howard Linskey

  ‘Is that what happened to you then?’

  Kane sighed, ‘Truth is, I got bored.’ He seemed to be reflecting on that for a moment before adding, ‘It was fine at first, then, after a few years, I’d come home and she’d be there doing the ironing or cooking the dinner and, I don’t know, I just didn’t fancy her like I used to and I felt a bit trapped. Then I met this WPC.’ And he raised his eyebrows at his own folly. ‘She was young and fit and looked bloody good in the uniform, so I gave her the chat. I was older and higher up and she was flattered so I started seeing her on the sly.’

  ‘Did your wife find out about it?’

  ‘Oh yeah but not because I wasn’t careful. Things were great with my little WPC for a while but there was something I hadn’t bargained for.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She was a bit of a bunny boiler.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘So, once I’d had my fun and the novelty started to wear off I tried to gently kick her into touch. I figured she knew I was married so …’ and he shrugged to indicate he assumed she would be reasonable about it ‘… but she went ballistic. I mean loopy. Swearing at me in the car park, calling me all sorts while people were walking by.’ He still seemed a little shocked at the memory. ‘She was screaming, “You bastard, you used me and now you think you can just ditch me when you feel like it and go back to your bloody boring wife.” ’ He exhaled. ‘I mean all of that was true if I’m honest but I didn’t expect her to tell the whole world about it. It didn’t help my career. You can have your bit on the side in our world as long as you’re discreet about it. Her screaming at me like a nutter while the Detective Superintendent is parking his car a few yards away isn’t discreet. I reckon that cost me a good three years on the promotion front and then of course there was Janet.’ He seemed to need to take a sip of his drink to explain that bit. ‘My sweet little WPC found out where I lived and went round there to tell her all about us. I don’t know what she thought she’d achieve but I came home to find my clothes packed in two suitcases on the door step and I was out of there, no second chances and no get-out-of-jail-free-card. My marriage was over,’ he clicked his fingers ‘like that. And for what, a few sweaty tumbles in the back of a car and once in a hotel.’

  ‘That’s rough,’ offered Bradshaw when it seemed some modicum of sympathy was expected from him then, even though Kane had already admitted he deserved everything he got.

  ‘And I still see her around from time to time.’

  ‘Janet?’

  Kane shook his head. ‘No, the bunny boiler. She’s still a WPC, got a husband and a couple of kids now, or so I heard, but every once in a while she’ll be in the same crowded room as me when there’s some big event or other. I’d love to say she’s fat and ugly now but she isn’t. She’s still quite tidy. Of course I could never forgive her for what she did but you know the really strange thing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Despite everything, when I see her, I still get that little surge here,’ he thumped his chest with his fist, ‘or maybe it’s a bit lower down,’ he admitted. ‘A combination of lust and excitement, which means if the opportunity arose I’d still give her one in the back of my car. Isn’t that daft? When I know I should run out of the room and keep going till I’m way over the horizon. I can’t help myself. Because I can remember what it was like when it was really good, you know. That lass cost me my marriage – actually no, that’s not fair, I cost me my marriage – but you know what I mean, she contributed to it and I still look at her and think, “Yep, I would.” ’

  ‘Blimey.’

  ‘I know, which goes to show how bloody stupid men are. The way we think, even when we know it’s going to cost us thousands of pounds and endless grief, we still do these ridiculous things.’

  ‘You said you were divorced twice.’

  ‘Yeah, second time was Carol. It was nowhere near as dramatic. We got on fine at first but I rushed into marriage because I think I was trying to get back what I lost and a bit of me wanted to show the force I was respectable again, you know. I was being considered for promotion at that point, you see. Anyway, it turned out we didn’t have that much in common really and, this is the killer, she was nowhere near as good company as my first wife. Neither of us were very happy but somehow we managed five years before we called it a day. No kids, thankfully.’

  ‘You with anyone these days?’

  ‘Nope, I’ve had enough aggravation for one lifetime, but I can still remember my youthful aspirations, which is why I am counselling you. I used to want the perfect woman too, you see. I was looking for someone who would be a soul mate, a companion, a lover, a friend, someone who could pick me up when I was feeling sad or depressed, someone who needed me but not too much, a lass who was the right height, with the perfect figure and the long hair, the beautiful eyes and legs that went on forever, who would give me blow jobs morning, noon and night then make me bacon sandwiches for breakfast. In short, I was looking for something that didn’t exist so, unsurprisingly, both my wives came up wanting. That’s why I ended up on my own when it comes down to it, Ian, because I had wholly unrealistic expectations.’ He drained the last of his pint. ‘These days, I’d settle for the bacon sandwich,’ he placed his empty glass firmly down onto the bar, ‘and the occasional blow job.’

  When he was finally done, Bradshaw didn’t know how to respond, so he stayed silent. Kane must have sensed his discomfort so he said dryly, ‘Anyway, I’ve enjoyed our little chat. You mark my words and feel free to ignore them, as I’m sure you will. I’m hardly the best person to give relationship advice now am I?’

  Frank Jarvis stopped what he was doing on the allotment when he saw Tom. It took him a while to bring the older man up to date, the two of them sitting together outside Frank’s hut while the sky darkened.

  ‘I’m a bit surprised you didn’t mention this voluntary work Sandra was doing?’ said Tom when he was done.

  ‘Didn’t I?’ asked Jarvis. ‘Isn’t it in the case file?’

  ‘No,’ said Tom, ‘it isn’t it.’

  ‘Well it should have been.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Tom and he wondered who might have removed it and why. ‘Tell me about this place Meadowlands.’

  ‘I didn’t know she was helping out down there. She didn’t tell me,’ Jarvis said. ‘I knew about the volunteering but it was several different places: old folks’ homes, kids in care, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Why would she keep it from you?’

  ‘She knew I wouldn’t want her working at a place like that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because the girls at Meadowlands are very …’ Frank searched for the right word and finally settled on ‘… damaged. I wouldn’t have wanted her hearing about the stuff they’d been through, but that was Sandra. She was always keen to help anyone in trouble.’ It was said with a hint of pride.

  ‘Did she go there regularly?’

  ‘A couple of evenings a week, occasional weekends.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘Helping out generally, a bit of guidance, some teaching of basic skills like reading and writing, a little counselling, unofficially, obviously. She didn’t tell me much about her voluntary work because everything is meant to be confidential, to protect the girls. You can’t chit-chat about it over the dinner table. I found all this out afterwards.’

  ‘Did many people know your daughter was volunteering?’

  ‘I didn’t broadcast it and she used her mother’s maiden name.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because she didn’t want the staff to know her dad was leader of the council. They’d think she was getting special treatment,’ he informed Tom, ‘or she was a spy.’

  Tom admired the girl even more for that. ‘I want to go down there, to speak to the staff and, if it can be cleared, some of the girls.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jarvis, ‘why do you want to do that?’

  ‘For the same reason I want to speak to everyone else t
hat knew her,’ said Tom, ‘to see if they can shed some light on the reasons for her disappearance.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Jarvis, ‘but I suggest you call them first or they might not let you through the door.’

  ‘I already did,’ said Tom. ‘Spoke to a bloke called Dean and he won’t let me in. I can go through official channels, get DCI Kane to phone his counterparts in Newcastle, request formal interviews, but I figured you could use some of that famous influence of yours to open the door for me.’

  Jarvis smiled then. ‘Consider it done.’ Then he regarded Tom for a moment. ‘Is there anyone else who’s giving you grief?’

  ‘No one whose door you could get me through.’ And when Jarvis looked surprised at that, Tom said, ‘I went down to that pub Sandra worked at on the Quayside. It’s closed now but the police took statements from everyone who worked there with her.’

  ‘I’ve read them,’ said Jarvis. ‘There wasn’t much there.’

  ‘No, there wasn’t,’ agreed Tom. ‘Nobody even mentioned the owner, Jimmy McCree.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said the councillor, ‘how come the police didn’t work that out?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Tom, though he had his suspicions, corruption being chief among them. ‘I guess it got overlooked somehow.’ And Tom told Jarvis about Helen’s detective work.

  ‘Very bright lass, that reporter,’ observed the councillor.

  ‘Have you met her?’

  ‘No, but I’ve read some of her recent articles about Joe Lynch.’

  ‘Do you think McCree could have known your daughter was working in one of his pubs?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  ‘But he could have found out,’ said Tom. ‘It’s possible, I mean, probable even?’

  ‘The people who work for him would be expected to pass on information like that but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘What good would it do him? I grew up in the same streets as McCree, around the same time. He chose one path while I chose the other and I have followed his career with interest. I’ve campaigned against him and folk like him. I’ve been an ardent opponent of anyone who deals drugs or takes part in organised crime in my city but he has never moved against me before. I can see where you’re coming from. Jimmy McCree is not a nice man. I used to think he was the devil … but I’ve since learned there are a lot worse than him out there. I’ve never heard of him harming innocent members of anyone’s family. In a way he’s quite old-fashioned about that short of thing.’

  ‘Honour among thieves eh?’

  ‘If there is such a thing.’ Jarvis didn’t sound sure about that. ‘More to the point, why would he do it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tom admitted, ‘but Sandra has disappeared and there must be a reason for her disappearance. We can rule out anything at home and we’re drawing a blank at her university so that leaves this Meadowlands place and the fact that she used to work in a boozer controlled by Tyneside’s most notorious gangster.’

  ‘You’re right about one thing,’ said Jarvis. ‘I won’t be able to get you through his door and I wouldn’t want to, for your sake. Jimmy McCree is a very private individual. Oh I know he’s seen around town but he won’t take kindly to a journalist sniffing about, especially one who’s on the police payroll. He’ll already know about that, by the way.’

  ‘From his contacts on the force?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Jarvis. ‘If you get too near him I’d be surprised if you didn’t take a beating. Not there and then obviously but some other time when you were coming out of a pub or your own front door. Jimmy would be miles away when it happened of course and he’d have an alibi.’

  ‘Like you said, not a nice guy.’

  ‘Well a lot of pubs in the Toon have dodgy owners or bent money behind them.’

  ‘And I could be barking up the wrong tree here, but it got me thinking.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Who stood to gain?’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘Your daughter’s disappearance.’

  Jarvis thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think anybody gained anything from her disappearance.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ asked Tom. ‘Think for a moment. What was the first thing you did when you realised she was missing and wasn’t coming back any day soon?’

  ‘I started the campaign to find her,’ he said.

  ‘Before that,’ Tom prompted Jarvis.

  ‘Before that?’ Jarvis wasn’t following. ‘I liaised with the police as best I could …’

  Tom shook his head. ‘You stood down.’

  ‘Well I had to,’ said Jarvis. ‘I couldn’t carry on doing all that when I had to find my daughter.’

  ‘So you resigned,’ said Tom, ‘as leader of the city council. You gave up a position of great influence and you stopped campaigning on issues that were once very dear to your heart, like uncontrolled inner city development for example, particularly on publicly owned land on the banks of the Tyne.’

  ‘The Riverside tender?’

  ‘Which you were once very vocally opposed to.’

  ‘I was,’ said Jarvis, ‘and a bit of a lone voice in the wilderness, I’m afraid. I wanted it to be public parkland surrounded by social housing with affordable homes for public-sector workers. I might as well have asked for Disneyland.’

  ‘But you were still a significant obstacle to the kind of development they are all bidding for now: retail centres with low-paid jobs, restaurants and penthouse apartments overlooking the River Tyne. You got a lot of people questioning the wisdom of that. There would have been some expensive compromises for the developers if you’d have still been in charge.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Jarvis, ‘so what’s your point?’

  ‘With you gone or at least distracted by the disappearance of your daughter, the way was clear for one of the biggest land grabs in the history of the north-east.’

  ‘You’ll forgive me if I view that as a pretty low priority right now.’

  ‘And that’s exactly my point,’ said Tom. ‘You stopped campaigning to make the Riverside development a community asset instead of a licence to print money and started giving different speeches about missing persons instead.’

  ‘So someone harmed my daughter to get me out of the way?’

  ‘It’s not inconceivable, is it?’

  ‘And you think McCree could be behind this?’

  ‘When you resigned you created a vacuum,’ Tom reminded him, ‘and you let someone else take your place.’

  ‘Joe Lynch.’

  ‘Who became leader of the council instead of you,’ Tom said, ‘and Joe Lynch is a friend of …?’

  ‘Alan Camfield,’ said Jarvis, ‘according to your reporter friend.’

  ‘Who is working with …?’

  And it seemed as if the penny finally dropped. ‘Jimmy McCree.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Tom. ‘Now you’ve got it.’

  ‘Who stood to gain?’ reflected Jarvis ruefully.

  ‘The answer is, all three of them,’ said Tom.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Since Helen lived and worked in Newcastle and the two men were based in Durham it seemed only fair to split their meetings between the two locations. Helen had given them her address in Jesmond but suggested meeting at the Lit and Phil instead. ‘It’s more central,’ she said quickly, ‘and my flat is tiny.’

  It had been a while since Tom had been in the ancient library. Its full name was the Literary and Philosophical Society but everyone called it the Lit and Phil. It had occupied the same spot near the railway station for 170 years and held more than 100,000 books between its walls. The place had the atmosphere of a stately home that suddenly decided one day to admit members of the public and allow them to occupy its battered old chairs so they could read in peace. It was an oasis of calm in a bustling city and Tom wondered why he didn’t use it more often.

  Helen was sitting at a table near a wrought-iron staircase that curv
ed up to the ceiling. Two huge bookcases on either side lent her spot an element of privacy. They could easily talk here without disturbing others, as long as they kept their voices reasonably low.

  Helen told them about her meeting with Amy Riordan and the effect knowing she had once dated a murderer had had on her. ‘Amy is a damaged individual,’ she concluded, ‘and some of that has to be down to Richard Bell, whatever else he is guilty of.’

  ‘It sounds like she has had trouble with a number of men,’ observed Tom.

  ‘Are you saying that’s her fault?’ asked Helen sharply.

  ‘No,’ Tom retorted, ‘I’m saying she’s unlucky and so was Rebecca Holt. Richard Bell wasn’t the only violent man in her life.’ And he told them about his run-in with Freddie.

  ‘So Rebecca went from one angry controlling man to another?’ observed Bradshaw.

  Again Helen took umbrage: ‘Or maybe Tom just brought out the worst in him.’

  ‘How did you get on with Frank Jarvis?’ asked Bradshaw, eager to avoid another argument about victim-blaming.

  ‘He’s in a state,’ said Tom, ‘as you would expect,’ and he gave them a detailed report on his time with Jarvis. When he was done he told Helen, ‘He’s a fan of yours too. I think he is quietly amused by the way you are steadily dismantling Councillor Lynch.’

  ‘What about Meadowlands?’ asked Bradshaw.

  ‘He says he can get me in there, so we will see if he really can make things happen in this city.’ When the detective seemed happy with that answer, Tom asked, ‘What about you?’

  ‘Me? The highlight of my day was getting love-life advice from my DCI. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem all that arsed about either of the cases we’re looking at.’

  ‘Sliding desk,’ said Tom. ‘The Sandra Jarvis case is now being handled by someone else – you.’

  ‘That’s what I figured,’ said Bradshaw.