Sally laughed quietly. ‘No, it isn’t.’
‘Don’t be silly Donkey, that’s our house code,’ said Bones.
‘So it is,’ said Donkey punching her fist into the palm of her hand.
‘I give up.’
‘Both wrong, cos it’s 3629,’ said Sally triumphantly. ‘It’s my Mum’s birthday. Third of June 1929.’
‘Got that Donkey? 3629, Sally’s Mum’s birthday. That’s a good one Sally,’ said Bones, trying to hide his excitement. ‘We’ll get her a card on her next birthday. But don’t tell her, like. Keep it a surprise, luv.’
Sally smiled at their thoughtfulness. ‘Can we play again?’ asked Sally.
Donkey shook her head but Bones raised his hand and nodded gently. ‘Okay Sally, let’s guess what month you were born. Okay?’
‘Yes, that will be good.’
‘Is it March?
‘No.’
Bones placed his index finger on the point of his chin. ‘Then it is July?’
Sally laughed. ‘No.’
‘I know, said Donkey. It is December.’
Sally laughed almost uncontrollably. ‘No, not December.’
Bones sucked in a breath of tobacco. As he exhaled he said June.
‘Yes, 5th June,’ she said. ‘You got it.’
Bones and Donkey laughed as if this was the best game ever invented.
‘Can we play again asked, Sally?’
‘I think we’ve had enough of that game now. I’m still thinking about you swimming in the Mediterranean Sea, Sally.’ It was time to delve deeper into this holiday.
‘So when are you going to Malta?’
Sally’s hands started to flap by her side involuntarily.
‘12th April….quite soon.’
‘That’s only three weeks away,’ said Bones.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Got your swimming costume packed then, Sally?’ asked Donkey laughing.
‘No, not yet, but I will.’
They walked further along the road. Donkey lit up a cigarette from Bones’ fag embers. She offered one to Sally who refused. Donkey stared at Sally for a long hard moment.
‘Not been getting lost recently, I hope, luv?’ he asked.
‘No, not recently.’
The memory of their first meeting brought a smile to Sally’s face.
‘Think, had you not been lost, we would not have met and now you are going to be rich. That’s what friends are for, not so?’
‘Yes, ......I don’t have many friends.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Bones. ‘You don’t need many friends but you do need good friends, like Donkey and me.’
Sally’s smile was cat-like seeing a bowl of milk. As she walked along with them her head began to nod. She appeared to be in a world of her own. She was.
Donkey took out her phone. ‘Let’s keep in touch. What’s your phone number Sally?’
Sally poked around her pockets for her phone. ‘I don’t use my phone much.’
Donkey looked up from hers. ‘But you’ve got a phone haven’t you?’ she asked with concern.
Sally produced her mobile phone. Donkey took it. She looked at it in disgust.
‘Very basic. No camera? Let’s see,’ she said scrolling down the contact list.
‘You’ve not got many contacts, Sally.’
‘No, not many contacts.’
‘Is Becky your girlfriend?’ Donkey enquired with a mischievous grin.
Sally laughed nervously. ‘No, Becky is my sister.’
‘Okay, I see. Then you have a brother too?’
‘Yes, I have a brother.’
Bones took note. ‘Alec, that right?’
‘Alec is my brother.’
‘So that’s your family; mother, brother and sister, yeah?’ he said handing the phone back to Sally.
‘And Boris?’ said Sally.
‘Boris? Who is that?’ asked a bewildered Bones.
‘That’s my sister’s dog. Boris is a Great Dane.’
Bones looked up at Sally and smiled but kept silent. There was no need to ask why Boris was on the contact list. Donkey laughed and Sally looked empty.
‘Don’t phone many folk then?’
‘No, but they phone me lots of times.’
‘So why don’t you use your contacts list?’
‘I don’t need to,’ she said indignantly.
Donkey’s puzzled face challenged Sally’s assertion. ‘It makes life easier if you use a list of contact numbers, you know.’
‘Don’t need a list. I told you. I know them all.’
‘What?’ asked an astounded Bones as Sally instantly began to fire out the mobile numbers and names of her nieces and nephews, one after the other. Then came the butcher’s number and finally the milkman’s. Donkey smiled at Sally’s ability on show.
‘That’s amazing. You’ve got a great memory Sally,’ said Bones.
‘Yes, I’ve a good memory.’
Donkey’s mind was racing ahead. ‘So what’s your phone number then?’
‘It’s 07194286791.’
Three days later Sally’s phone rang as she was playing her harmonica in the key of D. She came to the end of the tune before picking up her phone and just before Bones switched his off after a two minute wait.
‘Sally?’
‘Yes, is that Bones?’
‘Yes, were you, on the loo?’
‘No, not on the loo.’
‘Hmmm...so, why the long wait? I nearly switched off.’
‘I was playing music.’
Bones’ mouth was ajar in disbelief. ‘You could have put the sound down or off.’
There was a brief hesitation. ‘No, I was playing real music.’
‘What? You mean you were playing something?’
‘Yes my harmonica. I was playing Are You Going to Scarborough Fair.’
‘Okay, never mind. I’m phoning you to let you know your money is making great progress. And...wait for it....I can even make you much more. Interested?’
‘Much more?’
‘Can’t say exactly but we are sure to be talking at least double.’
‘Then yes, I’m interested,’ she said clutching her harmonica.
‘Okay let’s meet again before you go on holiday. Same place on Spencer Road, same time and bring another £500. That way your £1,000 will go much further, I promise you, luv.’
‘Okay, same time and place with £500.’
‘Yep, tomorrow evening. You can get the cash tomorrow morning. You won’t regret it, Sally. I’m your friend, the accountant and we’re making you rich, ain’t we?’
‘Yes, making me rich.’
‘So that piece of music, can you play it again. I’ll listen in.’
‘Yes, I’ll play it beside my phone so you hear it.’
‘Great.’
Sally began to play note perfect as usual but before she had got to the seventh bar, Bones had switched off his phone. His latest deal had been achieved. Simon and Garfunkel was not his scene.
The following morning Sally returned to the bank. The same bank teller was in front of her.
‘Another £500? Seems your accountant is onto a good investment,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I should be using him too.’
‘Yes, he’s very good,’ said Sally gathering the money bag and leaving with it stuffed in her jeans pocket.
The next night Sally returned to the post box on Spencer Road. It was a collar raised, slouching, stare-at your-shoes drizzly night. Her two friends arrived without any meaningful waterproofs and looked miserable as the rain dripped from their noses.
‘Hi, what a night, luv,’ said Donkey.
‘Yes, not nice,’ said Sally.
‘Anyway I’ve got a surpri
se for you. Here’s fifty pounds, a good will gesture for your holiday, just to show we are serious about making you money’.
‘Yes, making me money. Thank you,’ she said putting the money in her purse.
Sally then took from her inside jacket pocket another plastic bag of notes.
‘Thanks Sally, it will be making money tomorrow morning,’ Bones said, squeezing the notes to gauge the £500 content. Counting days were over with Sally. She was ever so obliging.
‘That’s good,’ said Sally raising a smile as her hair dripped rain.
‘Just one thing on my mind, Sally,’ began Donkey carefully choosing her words. ‘About you going away, best put an extra key somewhere. I put mine under a flowerpot in my greenhouse when I am away. That way I can’t possibly lose my keys when I return. So that’s what I do when we go to our cottage, you see.’
‘What cottage?’
‘The cottage. It’s in the Highlands of Scotland, near Oban. We’ve got a holiday home there. Overlooks the sea, so it does.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Yes, it is. All from our profits. The ones you are starting to make right now, as I breathe. We can take you there someday when we have time. Can’t we Bones?’ she asked nodding her head to encourage agreement. Bones reciprocated with a teeth clenched, closed mouth smile and many nods, without a word. His thoughts were elsewhere in the real world.
Sally was relaxed. She showed no signs of her twitching or shaking episodes. It seemed the right time for Bones to home in on their next plan.
‘So Sally, what do you do with your keys when you are away?’ asked Bones, looking nonchalant and away from her.
‘It’s only the back door key we hide,’ said Sally rocking to and fro ever so slightly. Was this a sign of anxiety thought Bones?
‘Yeah, no need to hide both front and back,’ agreed Donkey. ‘So, where do you hide the back door key?’ she persisted.
Sally had a little hesitation in replying. Her thoughts were not entirely clear but her mother had shown her where the key was hidden and it was their secret key. But Sally thought the game they had played the other day was the same as this game and so she made the fatal mistake. ‘It’s a secret key. It’s under a slate stone by the pansy bed.’
‘Good place Sally. No one could find it there,’ said Bones glancing at Donkey.
Donkey’s face cracked into an all-too-familiar smile.
The rain slackened off. The air was cool.
‘Warmer air in Malta, Sally,’ said Bones.
‘Yes,’ said Sally looking contented. ‘I am going to Malta. Quite soon now.’
On that note, they parted. As soon as Sally was out of sight Donkey punched the air. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said.
Bones offered a high five and Donkey crashed her palm into his.
‘God, she’s gullible,’ said Bones.
‘Yeah, this could run for a very long time,’ Donkey said kicking a stone from the pavement onto the road.
Bones tapped the notes, now in his side pocket. ‘There’s no telling how much we can make. Perhaps we should have a sunny holiday while she’s away.’
‘Yeah, but I’ve no passport.’
‘Passport? You need a passport to go on holiday?’
4
When the Cat is Away
Bones and Donkey were now flush with drugs. They would last them some considerable time. And when Sally came back, the golden goose would continue to feed their drug needs. It was a good time for them. It was time to sell what they could.
They were well known in their community. In fact so many took drugs because their parents took drugs and that older generation knew how to keep ‘mum’ when the police were trying to clean up the town of its drug problem. To the couple of crooks, drugs were not a problem. They were the source of income which supplemented their unemployment benefit. But their activities hardly made them unemployed.
Visits to the Charnock Richard motorway services were one drug pick-up point used frequently. Their courier was from Southport where he was the distributor for the north west of England. His name was of course a nickname too. He was called Vivaldi because this courier played the violin. In reality he was sacked from being the violinist of the Parbold String Quartet as he defrauded the quartet of £2,750 this sum being the lottery funding for their tour expenditure. He was given a six month prison sentence and was dropped from the musical group immediately on his release. He found it difficult to be employed again as a convicted fraudster and so he slipped into the world of drugs. He did not take drugs himself. Indeed he had a very healthy lifestyle but as needs must, he had heard that a driver was required and the advert led him to Donkey. He was a dark suited gentleman, diligent and keen to service the drug couple’s needs. They paid him well. He presented as a man who knew nothing about drugs and that was a bonus for Donkey. He did however know what his cargo was. He devised his cover too.
Apart from playing the violin, he also had a cello in the rear of his car and that was where the drugs were hidden. His cover was that of a violinist. If challenged by an inquisitive policeman he would render an impromptu piece of classical music. Few would doubt at that point he was not a member of the Harborne Strings of Birmingham which would be a further ruse he could offer.
Distribution in Wigan was easy for Donkey and Bones. They had a contact at the Wigan and Leigh NHS hospital where a regular supply of cocaine was appreciated by weekend members of the medical profession. They paid well, not just for the drugs but to ensure they kept the service secret and would never be compromised. That was their most lucrative source. There was also a duty to provide the local drug dependent community’s requirements and time passed as they performed this community service. Hash, cocaine and amphetamines always had a ready market as did K2 Spice. Bones and Donkey were seen as the drug dukes of their community and lips were sealed when the authorities probed. Social workers, advice centres and police were seen as the enemy. It was a highly structured community, dependent on each other yet one in a deprived area of town enduring ever increasing levels of deprivation and poor health.
Elsie and Sally were conveyed to Manchester airport by Becky. Ten days relaxing in the sun with meals at the hotel, poolside coffees and drinks. It was to be a leisurely holiday where relaxation and sun would be the sources of contentment. And not a worry or concern filled their minds as the plane’s wheels left the tarmac and soared into the white Cheshire clouds.
Their departure date had been noted by Bones and Donkey. On the first Tuesday evening as dusk began to fall, Bones and her co-conspirator made their way to Leyland Mill Lane. No one was around. They made their way up the bushy drive to find the Victorian home in darkness, as expected.
The men went round the rear of the house and were horrified to see a light in a house much nearer than they expected. It stood at right angles to Sally’s home down on the other side of the hill. It would be risky if lighting in the house was used. Perhaps their neighbours knew they were away. They took out their torches and covered their beams with dark socks. They approached the pansy flower bed on tip toes making sure they implanted no shoe prints. Sure enough a back door key was there waiting for them under the slate. They smiled at each other. Sally was true to her word. Each gave the other a thumbs-up fist-knocking moment.
They looked through the dining room window. The door was closed. No sign of the alarm box. They went round the house looking in each ground floor window but the alarm was still not in sight.
‘We’ve got to get in and listen to where the alarm is counting down. You got the number in your head?’
‘Sure have, Donkey. 3629. You got it, is more to the point?’
‘Cheeky.’ Donkey lifted her wrist to show that she had written the code on her bare arm.
‘Hope that washes off, you nutter.’
‘Course it will. I’m not stupid,’ said Donkey frowning at him. F
or a moment they stood still to listen for any distraction. A dog barked to disturb the peace but seemed to be far away. They were content that they were now safe to enter Aladdin’s cave.
The key fitted and it turned. ‘Ready?’
‘Okay,’ said Bones.
The door opened and the alarm started to count immediately. It was not easy to locate. The alarm sounded louder somewhere in the hallway. Donkey entered the entrance hall and found a cloakroom door. Her dimmed torch led her to the source of the alarm. She held her wrist to the pad. Her shaking fingers pressed 3629 accurately and the count ceased as it reached a high pitch.
‘Bingo,’ said Donkey.
‘Shut up, ya bugger. Take no risks,’ Bones said placing a finger on his lips.
‘Locked the back door?’ asked Donkey.
‘The back door? I’ll do that now,’ said Bones.
‘You twat. First thing to do after the alarm was off. We don’t need any visitors.’
Bones made a cursory look around the kitchen area. Then Donkey returned. ‘So where do we start?’
‘Okay, let’s do upstairs first,’ Donkey whispered regaining her composure.
‘Hey, bet that Grandfather clock is worth a few bob,’ said Bones.
‘Don’t be daft, too big. We’d need a removal van so that’s out. Keep the finds small and valuable.’
They entered the first room at the top of the stairs. It was clearly Sally’s room. It was stark. They saw the row of harmonicas but thought them worthless and a missing one would soon be spotted. They rifled through her oak drawers making sure everything was put back in place. At the back of one drawer was a cardboard box. Donkey opened it. Inside was a gold watch, a family treasure. Donkey picked it up in her gloved hand.
‘Better take the box, fetches more that way.’
‘If we leave the box Sally might think she had misplaced it instead of being stolen.’
The two thought about each other’s suggestion for a quiet moment. It seemed neither could decide. Then a human tuneless whistle was heard outside. They froze. The whistling died down and the front door letter box flapped.
Bones stood behind the bedroom curtains and peaked out. He saw a young lad freewheel his bike down the drive. It wasn’t the paper boy. In his hand were some coloured flyers. They relaxed.
The Trials of Sally Dunning and a Clerical Murder Page 3
