“Of course,” she smiled at Smith.
One of her top teeth was missing.
“Katie Young,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Police,” Smith sat down, “I’m DS Smith and this is DC Bridge.”
“This is about the armed robberies isn’t it?”
“I believe you were here on Tuesday.”
“I’m here just about every day,” Young said. “It was awesome.”
“Awesome?” Smith could not believe his ears.
“It was like something out of the movies. Nothing like that ever happens in this dreary city.”
“Go on,” Smith said. “What happened?”
“The three of them walked through from the back. The one in the front was carrying the bag of money. He looked around and stopped. Everyone in the place was terrified. We didn’t know what they were going to do to us. But then something happened. Even though the man was wearing a balaclava you got the feeling that he was smiling. You could just sense it.”
“What did they do then?” Smith said.
“The one carrying the money told everyone to keep quiet. He told us to stay calm. He had something he wanted to say to us. He said that nobody was going to get hurt if we stayed in our seats. He told us they had just robbed the place - he said they had taken money from the greedy Americans and they no doubt had the money insured. It was surreal. He had such a calming voice. I shouldn’t be saying this but I could fall in love with that voice.”
“What then?”
“Then he thanked us for our understanding. And then the weirdest thing happened. Somebody at the front started to clap and pretty soon everybody had joined in. It was addictive. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. The man carrying the money lifted the bag into the air, took a bow and left.”
“This is quite disturbing,” Smith said. “You applauded them for stealing money?”
“Modern day Robin Hoods,” Bridge suggested..
Smith glared at him.
“Was there anything distinctive about the three robbers?” he asked Young.
“Distinctive?” Young said. “They were wearing balaclavas.”
“Distinctive builds, unusual accents. Things like that.”
“The man who spoke had a posh accent. He was definitely not from York. He spoke like he went to a public school or something. All three of them were average height but one of them was definitely a woman.”
“A woman? Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Young said. “The hips don’t lie. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Thank you Miss Young,” Smith said.
He turned to Bridge.
“We need to get going.”
“Have you seen this?” Young opened up her lap top and turned it so Smith and Bridge could see the screen.
“There’s a Facebook page been set up for them,” she said. “They have over three thousand likes already. There are hundreds of comments. People are encouraging them to keep up the good work.”
“Great, that’s all we need. I’m starting to really dislike this Facebook thing.”
He was beginning to think that his two weeks off were getting further and further away.
“I still think it’s amazing,” Bridge said as they drove away from the McDonalds.
“What’s amazing?” Smith turned right onto Dene Street.
“They’re not really doing any harm are they? They’re stealing from a huge corporation. It’s not like they’re banging old ladies on the head and nicking their pension money.”
“Bridge,” Smith slammed on the brakes so hard that Bridge shot forward and almost hit his head on the windscreen. “These scumbags are armed robbers. Who they steal from is irrelevant.”
“Look at the Facebook page Sarge,” Bridge sat back in his seat. “You can’t argue with public sentiment.”
“I’ve been going against public opinion my whole life. It happens to be our job to stop bastards like them. Don’t you forget that.”
“You’re getting really boring in your old age Sarge,” Bridge said.
“Maybe.”
“I still think it’s quite romantic,” Bridge carried on. “Robbing the rich to give to the poor.”
“These idiots are not giving it to the poor. They’re pulling the wool over everybody’s eyes and this so called public opinion isn’t going to make our jobs any easier.”
“This is it here,” Bridge pointed to the McDonalds on Glebe Street.
It was much smaller than the branch on the High Street.
“Why rob this one?” Smith parked outside. “They can’t make much money in this part of town.”
He stopped the engine and got out of the car.
“You’d better lock the door Sarge,” Bridge warned. “I don’t trust the people around here.”
Smith locked his car door and they walked inside the McDonalds. The place was empty. An extremely bored looking woman was busy putting sachets of tomato sauce into a tray behind the counter.
“Morning,” she said. “What can I get you?”
Smith took out his ID.
“I know that already. I’ve seen your photo in all the papers. I haven’t seen you in there though.”
She smiled at Bridge.
“Is this about the robbery?” She said. “I don’t know why they bothered to knock over this place. The branch in the city centre turns over ten times what we do here. The people around here aren’t exactly loaded.”
“Were you here when the robbery took place?” Bridge decided to take the initiative.
“It’s still a bit of a blur. There’s plenty of crime in this neck of the woods but an armed robbery? That you don’t expect.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Smith said.
“It was over so quickly. They somehow managed to get in the back. They were waiting when the security company arrived for the cash drop. They took the money and scarpered. Like I said before, I don’t know why they bothered. There was only around two grand in the box. That’s only a thousand pounds each. Hardly worth risking your freedom for is it?”
“There were only two of them?” Smith said.
“That’s right.”
“And this was on Tuesday?”
“I’ve already told your lot all of this.”
“I’m just trying to get all the facts. Can you describe these two people?”
“They were wearing balaclavas,” she said. “But one of them was a real tub.”
“A what?”
“Lard arse, and short with it. He’d stand no chance if he was chased.”
“That’s interesting,” Smith said.
“You won’t catch them.”
Smith smiled.
“What’s so funny?” the woman asked him.
“Sorry, but if I had a hundred pounds for every time somebody’s said that to me I wouldn’t be standing here now. Is it always so quiet in here? It’s almost lunch time and the place is dead.”
“Sign of the times. The word around here is that old Phoenix might be closing the place down.”
“Phoenix?” Bridge said.
“Jimmy Phoenix,” she said. “Real bastard. He owns the franchises to all the McDonalds in York.”
“Jimmy Phoenix,” Smith repeated.
“I don’t know what you think of me,” the woman said. “But I’m not going to be working behind the counter in a dump like this forever. I only do it to help pay for my University fees. Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths you know.”
“What are you studying?” Bridge said.
“Economics. Third year. I know exactly what Jimmy Phoenix is playing at. Have you ever played Monopoly?”
“Never quite got to the end of a game,” Bridge admitted.
“You never will. Anyway, Phoenix has the monopoly on every McDonalds in this city. To put it in terms of the game with York as the board, sooner or later you’re bound to land up on one of the arrogant bastard’s McDonalds. Phoenix makes an absolute fortune out of it.”
“So he has no reason to have someone steal the money to claim the insurance money?” Smith said.
“Excuse me?”
“Just thinking out loud. Thank you for your time.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Jimmy Phoenix,” Smith said. “He owns all the McDonalds in the city.
Smith, Whitton, Bridge, Yang Chu and Brownhill sat in the small conference room at the station.
“He doesn’t own them,” Bridge said. “He owns the franchises. McDonalds still own the brand.”
“He controls every McDonalds in York,” Smith said. “We need to have a word with him.”
“What for?” Brownhill said. “The way I see it, he’s a victim in all of this. His businesses were robbed.”
“He’s just as bad as the McDonalds,” Bridge said. “He’s a part of these corporate thieves these people are trying to get at.”
“We need to speak to him,” Smith was adamant.
“Absolutely not,” Brownhill said. “And I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that we are to leave him alone.”
“By who?”
“Top brass,” Brownhill said.
“Top brass? By that I assume you mean Smyth. Don’t tell me that public school piece of plankton actually knows this guy.”
“They play golf together. He’s off limits. Have you got that?”
“This is bullshit,” Smith said. “Phoenix is in the middle of all of this. We need to speak to the man.”
“I agree,” Whitton said.
“Me too,” Bridge and Yang Chu said at the same time.
“This line of conversation is over,” Brownhill said. “What did we find out from speaking with the people at the McDonalds?”
“The one on the High Street and the one on Glebe Street were hit by different gangs,” Smith said. “The descriptions of the robbers were different.”
“I thought there wore balaclavas.”
“They did, but the woman at the Glebe street branch described one of the men. He said he was obese. The robbers on the High Street were of average build.”
“And one of them was a woman,” Bridge added.
“Good,” Brownhill said. “Anything else?”
“The one who spoke had a posh accent,” Bridge said. “A public school accent.”
“Not unlike our retarded Superintendant,” Smith said.
“That’s enough,” Brownhill said. “Whitton, what did you and Yang Chu find?”
“Pretty much the same. All of them were of average build. The leader of the gang - the one who spoke to the customers also had a rather posh accent. There was no mention of a woman though.”
“Maybe there’s a whole bunch of them,” Bridge suggested. “Robin Hood and his merry men.”
Brownhill scowled at him and shook her head. She turned to look at Smith.
“What next?” She said.
“It’s an inside job. There’s no doubt about that. We seem to have eliminated the managers at the McDonalds so that leaves just two more options.”
“Two?” Brownhill said.
“Jimmy Phoenix,” Smith said. “And seeing as though he’s been granted temporary immunity that leaves the security company. ADG Security. Apparently they collect the cash from most of the shops in the city.”
“That’s our next move then.”
“Hold on,” Smith said. “I want to go over the chain of events first. Do we have the dates and times of all the armed robberies?”
“I’ve got them here,” Yang Chu produced a sheet of paper and placed it on the table in front of them. “The first one was hit on the Thursday before last. That was the branch on the High Street. Twelve thirty two. Two more were hit the same day at two fifteen and three forty five.”
“OK, what about the other three?”
“Tuesday this week. After the bank holiday. The High Street branch was robbed again, the one down the road from the football stadium and then the one on Glebe Street. The High Street branch and the Glebe Street branch were hit at roughly the same time.”
“So it was different people,” Brownhill said. “That’s going to make things a bit more complicated.”
“On the contrary,” Smith argued. “I reckon it’ll help us. The more people involved, the greater the odds that one of them will slip up and lead us to the others. Whitton, let’s go and have a cup of crap coffee and then we’re going to take a trip to this so called security company.”
“They’ve changed the machine again,” Bridge said. “The coffee machine in the canteen. You can get all sorts of fancy cappuccinos now.”
“God help us all,” Smith said.
“I thought you were heading up to the canteen,” Whitton said as they left the conference room.
Smith had turned off towards the row of offices.
“I just need to speak to Chalmers. I’ll see you there in five minutes.”
Smith knocked on Chalmers’ office door and went inside. The smell of cigarette smoke hit him straight away. Chalmers was standing by the window smoking a cigarette. He was gazing out over the car park.
“Afternoon boss,” Smith said. “Beautiful day.”
“I’m beginning to really hate this place,” Chalmers said. “Smoke?”
He handed Smith a packet of Marlboroughs. Smith took one and lit it. Smoking had been banned in the station for years now but Chalmers always seemed to get away with it.
“Stand by the window,” Chalmers said. “What can I do for you?”
“Is Smyth in today?”
“He was,” Chalmers threw his cigarette butt out of the window and lit another one. “But I think he has a meeting with the Chief Constable. Something about bloody immigrants again I think. This city is going to the dogs.”
“Do you know what golf club Smyth is a member of?”
“This is about Jimmy Phoenix isn’t it? You’re going to talk to him aren’t you?”
“I’ve been told not to, and it’s bullshit. It’s hindering the investigation. No, I’m going to follow orders for a change and leave Phoenix well alone but there’s no harm in speaking to a few of his fellow golf buddies is there?”
“You’re playing with fire,” Chalmers said.
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Sandburn Hall. It’s off the A64 on the way to Malton. Be very careful. Phoenix is going to know you’ve been snooping around. Jimmy Phoenix isn’t someone you want to get on the wrong side of.”
“Thanks boss,” Smith stubbed his cigarette out on a small plate on Chalmers’ desk.
“Smith,” Chalmers said. “You didn’t hear that from me ok?”
“Of course.”
Smith realised he was smiling as he walked up to the canteen.
The two weeks off are getting closer, he thought, I can feel it.
He went inside the canteen. Whitton, Bridge and Yang Chu were standing next to the biggest coffee machine Smith had ever seen. They appeared to be having a serious debate about something.
“What the hell is that thing?” Smith said.
“It’s the new coffee machine,” Bridge said. “I’m still trying to decide what to have.”
“We can’t seem to figure out how it works,” Yang Chu said. “The instructions might as well be printed in Swahili.”
Whitton stepped forwards, pressed a few buttons and a low gurgling sound could be heard. A plastic cup dropped out of a slot and was quickly filled with a dark brown liquid.
“It doesn’t smell too bad,” she said.
She picked up the cup and took a sip.
“I think you’ll like this one,” she handed the cup to Smith and pressed the buttons on the machine again.
“Let’s sit by the window,” Smith said.
Whitton took her coffee and followed Smith to the table. Bridge and Yang Chu seemed to get the hint and stayed where they were.
“I’m sorry,” Smith said. “Sometimes my mouth works way before my brain has a chance to stop it.”
“Sometimes? What ex
actly is going on with us?”
“I like what we have, but I really need to get away for a while. What I said before just came out all wrong. I didn’t mean it was nothing to do with you, I meant it’s nothing to do with anything you’ve done.”
“I know, I just thought it would be nice for the two of us to get away together.”
“It would,” Smith said. “And we will but right now if I don’t get away from all of this I’m afraid I might just lose my mind completely and then I’ll be no use to anybody.”
He smiled at her.
Whitton shook her head.
“Two weeks? I suppose that’s not too long. I’m sure we can all benefit from not having you around for two weeks.”
“Thanks,” Smith said. “I need to ask a favour.”
“Go on.”
“Could you look after Theakston for me? I can’t take him away for two weeks. He likes you.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“I have no idea. Not far. Maybe somewhere in The Dales. Who knows, I’ll probably get bored after a few days and come back.”
Whitton finished her coffee and stood up.
“What’s wrong?” Smith said.
“This McDonalds mess isn’t going to sort itself out with us sitting around drinking coffee,” Whitton said. “The sooner we crack this one, the sooner you can go off on your crazy sabbatical and the sooner we can all get back to normal.”
Selene: A disturbing DS Jason Smith thriller (A DS Jason Smith Thriller Book 6) Page 31
