That wasn’t there before, Smith thought.
Jessica Blakemore was sitting by herself in the day room. She was reading a huge book. She stopped reading and turned to face Smith before he’d even approached her. Smith thought that she looked a lot healthier than she had done the last time he saw her - her cheeks had more colour in them and the bags under her eyes were less obvious.
“What are you reading?” Smith said. “The complete works of everybody who’s ever written something? That book is enormous.”
“It’s a new bible of dreams,” Jessica said. “Most of it is complete hogwash but there are a few interesting observations. Are you going to sit down?”
Jessica Blakemore was a psychiatrist Smith had only known for a few months. She had helped him and his team on a baffling investigation but she had paid the price for it - she had suffered a complete mental breakdown halfway through and had committed herself to the Crownside psychiatric hospital just outside York city centre. She’d committed herself for an initial period of three months and those three months were almost finished. Smith had started visiting her four weeks earlier and the visits had proved to be mutually beneficial - Jessica had come to realise that her condition wasn’t as overwhelming as she first thought and Smith had opened up about his own demons.
“How are you?” Smith said. “You’re looking much better than you did last week.”
“Is that a compliment?” Jessica smiled. “Or does it merely imply that I don’t look as ghastly as I did last time?”
“You’ll be getting out of here soon,” Smith ignored her. “Next week if I’m not mistaken.”
“I’m thinking of sticking around, I like it here.”
“What about your job?”
“I like to think of it as work experience. Do you know the doctors here are starting to come to me for advice? What an ironic world we live in. The shrinks are getting advice from a loonie.”
“You’re not a loonie. What about your husband?”
“Ian?” Jessica said and rolled her eyes. “He’s been to see me once. Nearly three months and he’s been here once. He reckons the people here freak him out. At least I have you. What’s on the agenda today?”
“Agenda?”
“You’re not here out of concern for me, what’s bothering you?”
A young man with a shaved head entered the room and sat down opposite them. He stared blankly into Smith’s eyes.
“Brian,” Jessica said to him. “We’re busy with a consultation here.”
The young man didn’t move. He continued to glare at Smith.
“Brian,” Jessica said. “I said we’re busy. We can speak later. Go back to your room.”
The man stood up and left the room without regret.
“I’m impressed,” Smith said. “They should be paying you a salary here.”
Jessica stood up and looked out of the huge window that looked out onto a small cluster of trees.
“I’m thinking about a change,” Smith said. “I’m thinking about doing something else. I’ve had enough.”
“There you go - there’s the rub, and what’s brought this on all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure how much more I can take. What I do isn’t exactly normal is it?”
“No,” Jessica said. “Normal it isn’t but essential it is. You’re not normal detective sergeant. You never will be. Come on, look at this scenario - you’re asking advice from a shrink who’s been admitted to a mental institution.”
“I’m sick and tired of death.”
Jessica Blakemore appeared to be lost in thought for a moment.
“Are you still having the dreams?”
“Not as often as I used to. I seem to get them when I’m working on something nasty.”
“They’ll never stop you know.”
“I’m getting used to them. The double awakenings are not freaking me out so much anymore.”
“What about you and Miss Whitton? How’s that all going?”
“Fine,” Smith said. “I think.”
“Hmm.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Well,” Jessica said. “The way I see it you have three choices.”
“Three?”
“Choice one is to quit the job you’re so brilliant at and do something else. I can promise you this, if you do that you’ll be joining me in here before you know it. Choice two is to carry on like before. Who knows, people may even stop killing each other.”
“I doubt it.”
“Me too,” Jessica said, “you carry on solving murders and sooner or later you’ll probably end up losing your sanity.”
“Great, and what’s the third choice?”
“Take some time off. When was the last time you had any time off?”
Smith had to think hard. Each time he had tried to take some leave, it had been interrupted by work.
“I haven’t had any real time off,” he admitted. “I always seem to end up thinking about work.”
“What are you working on at the moment?”
“Not much, there’s a syndicate that keeps hitting the McDonalds in the city. It’s obviously an inside job. It’s not going to take a genius to crack that one.”
“No murders?”
“Nothing. We haven’t had a murder in the city since that Selene Lupei thing.”
“Then what are you waiting for? I have a group therapy session in half an hour. If that’s all, I’d quite like to do a bit of preparation for it.”
Smith looked at Jessica Blakemore and shook her hand. Her hand was very cold.
“What’s it like in here?” He asked.
“Peaceful. Sometimes I think that it’s the wackos who are locked out there.”
She pointed to the window.
“Not the other way round,” she added. “Good bye detective.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Two weeks?” DI Bryony Brownhill said. “I don’t think I can spare you for two weeks.”
Brownhill sat opposite Smith in her office.
“I need a break,” Smith said. “With respect, the city of York isn’t exactly a hub of crime at the moment.”
“These robberies at the McDonalds are causing us quite a problem,” Brownhill said.
“Boss, my dog could figure that one out. It’s an inside job. They know exactly when the cash gets removed from the premises and then they strike. They’re out of there within two minutes. It’s an inside job.”
“How do you suggest we catch them then?”
“Set a trap. It’s obvious. There are only five McDonalds in York. Speak with the managers and get them to change the cash drop times.”
“And how will that help?”
“If these scumbags strike again, we’ll know they’ve been tipped off by someone on the inside. That’s how we catch them.”
“I’ll make you a deal. The Super is breathing down my neck. He’s of the opinion that the McDonalds are an integral part of the city’s heart and he’s taking it personally.”
“That moron would,” Smith said.
“You clear up the robberies and you’ve got your two weeks.”
“Boss, you do realise that I’m entitled to twenty seven days paid leave each year. I checked. Since I joined up I’ve always ended up losing most of my holidays. I want two weeks off.”
“Detective sergeant,” Brownhill stood up.
Smith had almost forgotten how imposing her bulk was. Even without the facial hair, she was a scary woman.
“And you realise,” she said. “That I am your superior officer and as such, I am the one who approves your leave. At this moment, we have a gang of thugs who are intent on stealing the takings from the McDonalds in the city. So far, they have managed to get away with almost half a million pounds. As you have already pointed out, you have a plan to stop them. Bring them in and you’ve got your two weeks. End of conversation.”
Smith was about to say something but he realised that any further argument would be futile. He stood up.
“Do we need to shake on it?” He offered Brownhill his hand.
Brownhill shook her head. Smith detected a slight smile on her face.
“Get out,” she said.
The three DC’s, Whitton, Bridge and Yang Chu were sitting in the canteen when Smith went inside. Whitton stood up and kissed Smith on the cheek.
“You two,” Yang Chu said. “Could you please not do that at work?”
“What’s wrong?” Whitton asked Smith.
Smith was obviously not happy.
“Haven’t you lot got work to do?” He said. “The Super is breathing down Brownhill’s neck about these McDonalds robberies and you know what he’s like when he gets a bee in his bonnet. We all end up suffering.”
“What’s the big deal?” Bridge said. “Who cares if they steal money from McDonalds? Nobody has been hurt.”
“They’re breaking the law, and it’s our job to stop them.”
“I say let them get away with it,” Yang Chu said. “They’re only robbing from the Yanks.”
“They’re heroes,” Bridge said. “We should be pinning a medal on every one of them. There’s even a Facebook page been set up for them. They have over two thousand likes. They’re modern day Robin Hoods.”
“They’re still armed robbers,” Smith insisted. “And we’re going to stop them. The future of my sanity rests on it.”
He put his hand on Whitton’s shoulder.
“Can I have a word?” He said.
He walked out of the canteen. Whitton followed him.
“Looks like the day has finally arrived,” Bridge said. “He’s breaking up with her. I knew it wouldn’t last. The gospel according to DS Smith ‘thou shalt not have relationships in the job’.”
Smith and Whitton stood in the car park outside the station. Smith took out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply. A cloud of smoke flowed out of his nose.
“I knew there was something wrong back there,” Whitton said. “I could see it on your face.”
“There’s nothing wrong.”
He didn’t know how to begin. He and Whitton had been in a relationship for a few months. It was still early days but things seemed to be going well for them.
“I went to see Jessica Blakemore again yesterday,” Smith said.
“I see,” Whitton said.
“She gave me an idea.”
“Why do you keep going to see her? She’s a complete psycho.”
“She’s not. She was sick, she got help and now she’s getting better. She suggested that I take some time off.”
Whitton breathed a sigh of relief.
“How long have I been telling you that?” she said. “It’s just what we both need. We could do some island hopping in Greece. You could take me to Australia; I’d love to see the places where you grew up. We could…”
“Time off by myself.”
Whitton stared at him with her mouth wide open.
“By yourself? I thought we were doing ok.”
“We were. I mean we are. I need to get away from this city. This job. I need a break away from everything.”
Whitton didn’t say anything. She looked at Smith with a mixture of anger and bewilderment.
“I made a deal with the DI,” Smith said. “If we clear up these McDonalds robberies I can have two weeks off.”
“Two weeks? Where are you going to go for two weeks?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere I’ve never been before. Somewhere with no memories and somewhere as far away from the sea as possible. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“Thanks a lot,” Whitton said and marched back inside the station.
Maybe that came out wrong, Smith thought.
CHAPTER THREE
Smith parked his car outside the McDonalds on the High Street and turned off the engine. Whitton and Yang Chu had gone to one of the smaller McDonalds just outside the city centre.
“Have you and Whitton broken up?” Bridge asked.
Bridge was not known for his tact.
“That’s none of your business,” Smith said. “Besides, your taste in women is hardly anything to brag about.”
Bridge had found himself involved with a woman who killed three men a few months earlier.
“Selene Lupei,” Bridge mused. “It still doesn’t seem real somehow. I’m thinking of going to visit her.”
“Don’t, it’ll only end badly. What happened to her kid?”
“Maggie? Foster family. Her father gets killed and her mother get’s locked up in a loonie bin. Life is shitty sometimes.”
“She’ll be fine,” Smith opened the car door. “From what I remember, she was a tough one.”
The McDonalds was surprisingly busy considering it wasn’t yet lunch time. Smith and Bridge walked past the students who were busy putting away copious amounts of burgers and fries to soak up the previous night’s alcohol. Smith pushed to the front of the queue and stood in front of a young man with the most pathetic excuse for a beard Smith had ever seen.
“Get to the back of the queue,” the man said.
Smith saw from his name tag that his name was Steven Williams. He was the assistant manager.
“Police,” Smith ignored him. “Can we speak to a proper manager?”
He showed Williams his ID.
“He’s on a break,” Williams said.
“Go and get him then,” Smith turned to look at the people behind him in the queue. “These people can wait.”
Williams sighed and walked towards a small door at the back of the counter. He returned shortly afterwards with another young man. The man eyed Smith and Bridge with obvious suspicion.
“John Burke,” he said. “I’m the manager here. What can I do for you?”
“Not here,” Smith said. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private? Somewhere away from these morons?”
He said it loud enough for most of the people in the place to hear. Bridge started to laugh.
“We can go outside,” Burke said. “I was about to go out for a smoke anyway.”
Burke led Smith and Bridge outside onto the street. A crowd of tourists carrying cameras shuffled past.
“Is this about the robberies?” Burke took out a packet of cigarettes.
He offered the pack to Smith.
Smith shook his head. Burke took out a cigarette and lit the end.
“They’ve hit us twice now. I wasn’t here the first time but the second time was terrifying. They were so calm about the whole thing.”
“Do you have any idea who might be behind it?”
“No,” Burke said straight away. “Why would I?”
Smith stared at Burke’s face.
“Just thinking out loud,” he said. “It’s a terrible habit of mine. Tell me what happened.”
“I’ve already spoken to the police,” Burke threw his cigarette to the ground and lit another one.
“You haven’t spoken to me,” Smith said. “What happened?”
“It was Tuesday last week. We’d had a really busy weekend what with the bank holiday. We normally do the cash drop on Monday but because of the bank holiday it was moved to Tuesday.”
“How much cash are we talking about?”
“About eighty thousand,” Burke said. “Give or take a few hundred.”
“Eighty grand?” Bridge said. “Eighty grand worth of burgers in one weekend?”
“Like I said it was a busy weekend,” Burke said.
“When is the cash drop normally made?” Smith said. “Just one time a week?”
“Mondays and Thursdays.”
“Can you run through the whole procedure? Where the cash is collected, everything.”
“The money is kept in the safe in the back,” Burke said. “Only me and the other manager have the combination and it changes once a month for security reasons. Once an hour the takings are deposited in the safe.”
“The people who collect the cash on Mondays and Thursdays,” Smith said. “Who are they?”
“
A private security company - ADG security. They do a lot of the big stores in the city.”
“OK, the money is kept in the safe. What do the security company do?”
“They come and collect it. They use the door at the back. Two of them stay outside by the van and two more come in to collect the money.”
“Are these men armed?” Bridge asked.
“Of course not,” Burke said. “Why would they be armed?”
“Because people with guns are stealing money,” Smith said. “How was the robbery carried out?”
“They’re good,” Burke said. “I have to give them that and they’re brazen.”
“Brazen?” Bridge said.
“I opened the safe when the security company arrived. Those thugs were already inside waiting. They had guns. They told me to hand over the money. They were so calm and very polite. They said there was no need for anybody to get hurt as long as nobody did anything foolish. They walked out through the restaurant. There were loads of people eating at the tables but these people just calmly walked past them.”
“Did you recognise any of these men?” Bridge said.
“They wore balaclavas,” Burke said.
“How many of them were there?” Smith said.
“Three.”
“So they walked out through the restaurant - if you can call McDonalds a restaurant. What did you do then?”
“The one who did the talking told us to wait in the back for five minutes, so I didn’t see what happened inside the restaurant but one of the customers told me what happened as they walked through.”
“Go on,” Smith said.
“They had a full blown conversation with the customers. They pretty much bragged about the whole thing.”
“How do you mean?”
“According to the woman who saw it all, one of them stopped in the middle of the restaurant and told everybody what they’d done.”
“Do you have the name of this woman?”
“I can do one better,” Burke said. “She’s inside right now. She comes here most days; sit’s there for hours with her lap top and drinks one coffee after another.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Can we have a word?” Smith said to a blonde haired woman typing frantically on a lap top computer.
Selene: A disturbing DS Jason Smith thriller (A DS Jason Smith Thriller Book 6) Page 30
