Beyond Angel Avenue

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “You alright, mate?” I answer. What the hell business has Humberside’s Head of Organised Crime Division got ringing me up this late?

  “Sorry for calling so late, Rick.”

  “We were just going to bed actually.” I look across at Jules and she’s stood still. I can see her heart pounding through her pyjamas and I’m going to have this out with her! Why does she look guilty?

  I’m still wondering what she’s done when Ronnie says, “Actually got a bit of a problem. Your wife has something to do with it.”

  “Jules?” I bark, and lower my tone immediately, afraid of waking the twins and/or Joe.

  She’s biting her lip now and a tear is falling down her face. What the hell has happened.

  “I’m outside your house. If you want, I could come in and explain all.”

  “You’re ruddy right, you’ll explain all.”

  I hang up on him and point at Jules. “You’re in trouble. I’m going to find out.”

  “Who was that?” she asks, wiping her face with the heel of her palm.

  Throwing my dressing gown on and shoving my phone in the pocket, I growl, “Ronnie. Now, get your dressing gown on. He’s outside.”

  “Outside? Oh no, what’s happened?”

  “Bloody Nora, Jules, that’s what I want to know. You’ve had a face like a wet weekend all fucking night!”

  I swing the door open and jump the stairs to head for the front door. Against the streetlamp outside, I see the six-five figure of Ronnie Fitzgerald.

  I open the door and he needs no invitation, stepping right in.

  “In the kitchen,” I direct him, “kids are asleep.”

  I’ve barely welcomed him inside when Jules arrives and begs Ronnie, “Is this about Miranda?”

  Not, that Miranda!? What the hell is this?

  He nods slowly. “We had a tracker put in her car for her own safety. She was here earlier today, wasn’t she Jules?”

  She nods, her voice crackly. “Yeah.”

  This explains it.

  “You better put the kettle on Rick,” he says, and I walk over to do so, wondering why I’m the one left in the dark this time. So, this is what it feels like?

  Settled around the table with mugs of tea between us, Jules is still avoiding my eyes when Ronnie begins, “We’ve taken Miranda off the case. She got too involved and veered drastically off course coming here.”

  What bloody case?

  She looks up and nods. “There’s more to it than that, though.”

  Ronnie and I look at one another and I demand, “What? She didn’t just turn up? You asked her here, did you?”

  She shakes her head, no. “First, just tell me she’s not in danger?” Her eyes implore Ronnie.

  “It’s for her safety we’ve taken her off.”

  “Okay,” she breathes a sigh of relief, “because when she was here, I watched a car follow after her.”

  “What?” Ronnie and I say at the same time.

  Jules opens out her hands as she talks. “There was something about her, at my father’s funeral. She didn’t look right. I couldn’t explain it and I told Rick, but he told me to lay off, time and time again, but I couldn’t.” Ronnie nods rapidly, encouraging her to get to the point.

  The day of Julian’s funeral, I thought I recognised Miranda. Way back when I was in uniform, she was a detective high up. I used to see her in passing, nothing more. Everyone knew how cutthroat she was and hardly anybody dared talk to her. The rumour was for a small woman, she was psychotically charged, stronger than you could imagine – but she closed every case she ever worked on. At the funeral she looked familiar but almost unrecognisable; maybe a new haircut and contact lenses were responsible, or something. She certainly wasn’t called Miranda back then.

  Jules explains, “So, this morning I drove over to Barton and asked my friend Amy if she knew any of the women working at the care company. She said she knew Janice and where she lived. I went to see her and she led me round the houses with her spiel about how hard carers have it. She told me my dad used to keep a few quid in his safe but his lawyers said they didn’t find any cash on site.”

  “Ah, well…” Ronnie says.

  Jules stares at him. “What?”

  “We found a few grand in the safe but we took it away for dusting and to check the serial numbers.”

  “What?” I exclaim, because everything is suddenly getting murky.

  Ronnie holds his hands up. “I reckon we should let Jules continue.”

  She nods, agreeing. “So, Janice told me my father was generous with tips and all the other carers were angry when Miranda got the monopoly on him. She was there all the time and it seemed odd. Janice said Miranda seemed more than a care worker, maybe a nurse in the past. I said I thought she looked more than a care worker too and it was half the reason I couldn’t forget about her. That and the fact she was allegedly sacked the day after my father kicked the bucket. The only other thing of note Janice told me was that Miranda had gotten a job with another care company and she described the uniform she’d seen her in. So, I did some searching on the internet and traced the uniform to a care company in Cottingham. I waited outside the property all day and at around 3.30 today, she pulled up at the office and I followed her after she left. She must’ve seen me following because she drove right here and I invited her in and she told me it was dangerous, that she was undercover, that I was playing with fire following her.” Jules takes a deep breath and seems relieved. I take her hand so she knows I’m not angry. Looking at Ronnie, she explains, “I just know in my gut when something’s wrong, you know? There was something about her.” She shakes her head, unable to process all this. “Miranda told me she and my father were in love. She told me she was after a big fish in the drugs world but Julian was terrified and never told her anything. She said as far as Julian was concerned, she was a real care worker. He never knew who she really was.”

  “Jules,” Ronnie shakes his head, “she shouldn’t have come here. She veered off course getting you involved. This sort of work isn’t for everyone, is it Rick?”

  I nod, knowingly. “You have to totally vacate yourself. Sounds like Miranda hasn’t been able to do that if she’s turned up here and veered from protocol. Falling in love with your father, too? Big no-no.”

  The dark days of my undercover work are always there, on my shoulder, reminding me of what I really am. This sort of work forces you to the edge of who you think you are, proving we can all be pushed to explore the dark side of ourselves.

  “Let me say,” Ronnie begins, “Julian Simonovich died of a stroke. End of. There is no mystery there. Maybe his former lifestyle contributed, I don’t know, but there was no foul play.”

  Jules accepts his words, as do I. He’s not lying about that because I saw the body. It was wracked with pain, you could tell.

  “However, things went on at that farm you’re right.”

  “So, what then? I feel like I’m out in the cold here,” I tell them both, fingers in my hair, even though I know this will undoubtedly be about drugs. That’s all it’s ever been about.

  “Right, two or three years ago, we were following a random tip-off about a dealer. We followed him to Julian’s farm and he was arrested as he left the property, carrying at least £10,000 worth of heroin. We interviewed Jules’ dad, he denied everything. There was nothing on his property to suggest he was involved in drugs, except the guy leaving who was caught in possession. Julian got off, claiming the drug dealer was just someone trying his luck, someone who maybe knew Julian used to dope.

  “So we kept Julian under surveillance. Over the next year or so, nothing. He must have been working very carefully. We knew something was going on though because heroin was making it to the streets and not dirty heroin, either. Clean-cut. Good stuff. No hallucinogens were added to bulk it out. It was stuff which sells for a good price to respectable customers, not your scum bag customers, but high class, you know what I mean?”

  “It was goin
g into clubs and places?” I ask my former super.

  “We just had a hunch… it was all we were working off. So, when he got ill and employed a care company to sort out his meals and whatever, we watched him and noticed his girls counting money as they left his place. We think he was paying them to deliver for him. There’s a hiding place somewhere on his land where the drops are made, the big stuff. Julian weighed the gear, bagged it up, sent it off with his girls. Janice, she was one of them for sure. However, we had Miranda and she went in. We knew she would catch his eye. No doubt he kept her in the dark in case she upped and left, disgusted by who he really was. She didn’t know, however, how much deep shit Julian was in.”

  “Someone got to her?” Jules guesses. “Today, she was all fired up, nervous, having a breakdown almost. I could tell she wasn’t well.”

  “A few months after he fell ill and started having care workers in, he told his Eastern European friends he wasn’t going to deal anymore but they didn’t like it. They lifted Miranda off the street one day and put her in hospital, black and blue. They didn’t know who she was, they just thought she was Julian’s loyal girlfriend, but when he saw what they’d done to Miranda… he backed down. He had to keep supplying, it was the only way to keep her safe.”

  Jules is shaking her head. I can see how angry she is. She wants to smash something.

  “Cool it Jules, we have better ways, remember? We can get them back in better ways than this.”

  She looks at me. “You didn’t tell me he rang, while I was abroad?”

  I admit it, nodding yes. “I was protecting you. You once told me you never wanted to see him again. It wasn’t as if he told me he was dying, all he said was he wanted to speak to you about his will or something and I told him you wouldn’t want his money.”

  She pushes back her chair and stands up, facing away from us. I watch her rub her hands over her face, more tears falling.

  “When the estate was settled, I was going to get the solicitors to put his money in trust for the boys but now, all I’ll know is that his money is just drugs money, isn’t it? I’m not giving our children drugs money.”

  “I have a proposition for you, Jules,” Ronnie says and she swings round, furious.

  “You what? What? You want me to help you?” She leans down on the table, still standing, staring into his eyes. “After our relationship nearly broke down because of the paedophile case, after you wrecked his other marriage and left his ex-wife fucking potty, after you shredded him, put him through a blender and fucking pulped his heart? I’ll tell you what, Ronnie, I have a proposition for you, yeah? It’s this… fuck. right. off!!”

  She snarls and turns away, angry as hell. Shit, she’s sexy right now. I want to toss her over my shoulder and throw her down on the bed upstairs, spread her legs with my tongue and then screw her ten ways to Sunday.

  “We have reason to believe Janice Hale, the woman you spoke to this morning, has still been going up to the farm and retrieving the drugs from somewhere. She’s risking it. Most do it via the internet these days but she only deals in cash, just like Julian, the old-fashioned way.”

  Jules turns, her arms tightly folded, a scowl on her face. She doesn’t dignify him with a glance. “Why is she doing this? Why? I don’t understand.”

  “Greed. A birdie told me she drives a Jeep these days, hides it round the corner from her house. She may live poor but for some reason, all her kids are now living in new builds. None of them even have jobs. She’s only been doing this for a few months, since your dad died. She got plucky, don’t you think? Taking on his business for herself.”

  She sniffs. “You want me to do what, then?”

  “You got in the door this morning. I don’t think you need any help from me. I strongly advise you not to sell that farm, not until we catch her red-handed. There’s three places on the land the drop could be made.” Ronnie pulls out a map and shows us. “An electricity mains box near your father’s paddock, where he grazed horses for locals. We’ve investigated it. The keyhole’s well used. There’s this, too,” he points on the map, “a shed he stored fuel in, a little way away from any of the outbuildings. Also, a barn with an underground shelter built during the war. He could’ve used all three or just one. Maybe they alternated. Whoever was supplying the drugs didn’t want to get caught. Your dad was the fall guy in case anything went wrong. That’s how it works. Now he’s gone and Janice has taken this task upon herself, one foot wrong and she’s dead. She’s no idea who she’s dealing with. She’s a kid in a candy store full of hidden explosives.”

  Jules pinches her lip between her teeth. “Drugs killed my mother, ruined my life and Rick’s. I want to help but there’s no fucking way I’m going near that house. In fact, I’ll sell it to you for free. You can have it.”

  So, she’s pretty angry then.

  “We’ll keep it under surveillance and see if she makes a mistake one night. She obviously has someone who goes in on foot to collect the gear. You staying at the farmhouse could force her to confront you if she knows you’re onto her. She may threaten you. After all, any threat to her new livelihood is bound to make her nervous and twitchy, maybe enough so she slips up.”

  “No,” Jules shakes her head, “she told me this morning, she knows everybody. No. You won’t get her the way you think. If you want me to help, I have to go in. I have to be like her, it’s the only way people like her stop and listen. It’s the only way she’ll realise what it is she’s doing. You have to speak with William Barker and get me in. It’s the only way.”

  “But Jules, it’s care work!!” I argue, “you barely… I mean… you hate physical contact, except with… but…”

  Ronnie gives me the stare as if to say, Shut up, she has agreed to help us here, man!

  “I want these druggies dead, Rick,” she growls.

  “Well, we’d rather have them locked up.”

  “She’ll suspect me,” Jules reasons, “but all she sees when she looks at me is the little girl who trudged round town in rags. She doesn’t know what I am now. She won’t hurt me. She might hate me, but once she works with me, I’ll pull her under my thumb and squish her with the guilt of what she’s doing to people.”

  “She’s Julian’s daughter, Ronnie. People are going to ask questions,” I insist, hoping he’s thought this through. If people in the drugs world remember me (highly unlikely, but possible) then Jules will be in danger if they make a connection between her and the police.

  “And when they do, and when she’s interrogated, she’ll buy in. She’ll tell them he left her nothing in his will, he ruined her life, and she’ll buy in. She’ll do whatever she has to, won’t you Jules? Just like you did this morning.”

  She nods. “I know these people. I’m one of their own. They’ll buy it. I am his daughter, like you say.”

  I stand and exercise my husbandly right. “What if there’s danger? You can’t! You’ve got two children.”

  “Three children.” She moves towards me. “I’m on a mission to find Miranda and discover how she killed my father. That’s all they’ll think I’m doing, right?”

  Ronnie looks at his phone. “Miranda’s out of the country, it’s just been confirmed. We’ll put out a story about her being murdered. It’ll give you the perfect cover… you’re seeking someone who can tell you more and Janice will be delighted to tell you everything, no doubt.”

  “No,” I mutter, “not my Jules. You’re not taking her as well.”

  “I’m doing this for my mother,” she states and throws her arms around, “I’m more than strong enough for this.”

  That’s just it, I don’t think she is.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jules

  We’re attempting to go to bed for the second time tonight and it’s one a.m. now. I’m shattered, so is he, but I feel like neither of us will sleep until we’ve cleared the air.

  Laid on our separate sides with both our arms folded, looking up at the ceiling, he starts, “I’m sorry. About y
our dad. I’d forgotten about his call. I actually forgot about a lot of things while you were away, you know? I was just so snowed under by work and the truth is, I let it get that way. It made it easier for me to cope with you being gone.”

  I shake my head at him. “Are we ever going to be able to get past it, you know? I’ve been back for over a year and you’re still banging on about the fact I went. Don’t you think the point is, I came back, I married you and we now have a family.”

  “I’m just saying… maybe if you’d been here, you’d have taken the call yourself and it would’ve been your decision then, wouldn’t it? Not me, as always, holding up the fort and making all the executive decisions about life.”

  He’s being an arsehole and I’ve no idea why. I roll over to face the other way so I don’t have to see him out of the corner of my eye. “Like, me buying this house then? That was me sneaking out of making decisions, was it? Like me asking and asking you if we could set a date and you never setting it. That’s why I went abroad, Rick, because half the time I just thought you didn’t really want me. You wouldn’t set a date.”

  He tries to touch me but I shrug him off. This is wrong, so wrong. Why are we arguing about this now? How can we get past it?

  “I wouldn’t set a date because I was crippled by guilt and shame over Anna trying to jump me! I couldn’t marry you with a lie hanging over us. I was desperately in love with you, still am god help me!”

  I smile to myself, hating myself.

  “There’s something wrong with you. It’s more than this thing with my dad and the drugs, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is, it is. I hate my job, okay, there, I said it. I hate my shitting job. I despise it. I’ve been trying to tell you for months but it’s easy to get stuck in a rut and I don’t like it. I only took this on because I didn’t know what else to do while you were gone.”

  I roll over and peer at him, almost laughing. “You hate your job?”

  He nods, his eyes sincere. “Detest it. I can’t see what difference I’m making.”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose and I steal his hand away, folding my fingers over his. “What do you mean?”