by Conrad Jones
‘I see you’re still defending the city’s lowlife,’ Alec countered. He undid the button on his dark blue suit jacket.
‘Shall we dispense with the horseshit and get on with it?’ Jo said, a sarcastic grin on her face.
‘She’s a feisty one, this one,’ Jacob said, winking at Charlie. Charlie didn’t look impressed. ‘We’ll have to be on our best game with her around.’ Charlie shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He was propped up with pillows behind him. His right hand was heavily bandaged and there were a dozen dark purple entry holes on his neck and lower face. Some of the larger holes had been stitched with tape. He eyed the detectives with suspicion but there was also a glint in his eyes as if he was excited.
‘We’ve come to speak to you about a few matters, so I need to remind you that you’re under caution,’ Alec began. ‘Let’s start with how you ended up here.’
Charlie looked at Jacob and Jacob nodded that it was okay to answer the question.
‘I was shot by Del Makin,’ Charlie said, sitting up further. ‘Sorry, Derrick Makin. He lives in Woolton Village.’
‘Do you have an address?’ Jo asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to give them a name.
‘Quarry Street somewhere. I can’t remember the number but you’re the detectives. I’m sure it won’t take you long to find him.’
‘You’re sure it was him?’ Alec asked.
‘Oh, yes, one hundred percent. He stood in front of me as clear as you are now, no mask, no balaclava, nothing,’ Charlie said, smiling. ‘He probably didn’t expect to me to survive to identify him, still, you have to admire his balls, don’t you?’ he looked at Jo. ‘Excuse the language.’
‘I’ve heard much worse,’ she replied, curtly. ‘Do you know why he shot you?’
Jacob nodded again.
‘Because I’m an eyewitness.’
‘To what?’ Alec asked, frowning.
‘The murder of Jaz.’
‘Makin shot Jaz?’ Alec asked, shocked.
‘Yes.’
‘You saw him shoot Jaz?’ Jo asked, shaking her head.
‘Not exactly.’ Charlie shrugged. ‘I heard him shoot Jaz. Then I saw him leaving his office.’
‘Tell us what happened, exactly,’ Alec asked, sitting back.
‘I was there on business,’ Charlie said, cheerily. ‘I parked up the motor, walked into the club, said hello to the bouncers and the miserable bitch on the till and then I looked into the club to see if he was at the bar,’ he paused. ‘He wasn’t there so I figured that he would probably be in his office. As I got to the first-floor landing, I thought that I heard something. Three times. Like a spitting noise.’ He looked from one to the other to see if they were following him. The detectives looked taken aback. ‘The next thing I know, Del Makin was coming down the stairs, white as a sheet, he was. I said hello and shook his hand but he made some excuse for being in a hurry and legged it down the stairs. Of course, when I got to the office, Jaz was as dead as a dodo. Makin must have shot him just minutes before I arrived.’ He could see the doubt on their faces. ‘Ask the bouncers, they will verify that he arrived before me and left in a hurry, I’m sure.’ He paused and feigned sorrow. ‘I always liked Jaz. He was old school. Don’t get me wrong, he was no angel but we got on, you know?’
‘Your pockets were stuffed full of cash and the safe was empty,’ Jo said, rolling her eyes. ‘You liked him enough to steal his money while he was still warm?’
‘What can I say,’ Charlie sighed. ‘It was a moment of weakness. There was my old friend Jaz, shot to death and all that cash was lying around. It was an opportunist crime but a crime nonetheless. I hold my hands up. I took the money.’
‘Very gallant of you,’ Jo said, sarcastically. ‘So, you took the money and then what?’
‘I went back to the car. As I approached it, Makin shot me with both barrels.’
‘You had a gun in your sock and a vest on,’ Jo pushed. She raised her eyebrows.
‘I always carry that thirty-eight. You have been spying on me for fourteen months, inspector, you know what kind of people I have to deal with. It’s a risky business sometimes.’ Charlie shrugged.
‘We arrested Brian Selby two days ago,’ Alec said, changing tack. It was Charlie’s turn to look shocked.
‘Fat Brian?’ Charlie shrugged. ‘What did he do to get himself arrested?’
‘He was coming out of Risley woods late at night.’
‘And?’ Charlie said, composing himself. He glanced at Jacob, who had leaned forwards with a concerned expression on his face.
‘We found the body of Stuart Radcliffe buried in the woods.’ Jo moved closer to the bed. She watched his expression change. ‘Would you know anything about that?’
Jacob shook his head.
‘No, nothing at all. What happened to him?’ Charlie asked, feigning surprise.
‘Brain Selby said that you shot him,’ Alec said, watching his reaction.
‘Me? Brian said that?’ Charlie sounded disappointed. ‘Stuart and I were friends for years. Why would I kill my friend?’
‘You found out that he was an informer,’ Alec said, flatly.
‘I am shocked that Brian has blamed me. I can’t say that I’m surprised if I am honest. He’s a strange character.’
‘Granted,’ Alec agreed. ‘Strange or not, he has made a statement that you killed Stuart Radcliffe with a spade.’
Charlie’s eyes opened wide. He looked at Jacob and laughed. ‘I thought fat Brian said that I shot Stuart.’ Charlie looked genuinely shocked. ‘As for killing someone with a spade, I haven’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about!’
‘I just want to clarify something,’ Jacob interrupted. ‘You said he had been shot?’
‘He was shot but our witness claims that Radcliffe came around while he was being buried and you stabbed him three times with an entrenching tool.’
‘An entrenching tool?’ Charlie asked. ‘What the fuck is that?’
‘A folding spade,’ Alec replied, calmly.
‘I bet you that if you look through fat Brian’s finances, he’ll have bought one of those.’ Charlie looked around the room and studied their faces. ‘He’s a fucking geek. If anyone owns one of them, it’s him. I don’t have a lot of folding spades. I’ve been trying to give them up,’ Charlie said, laughing sourly. ‘Are there prints on the handle?’
‘We’re not at liberty to say,’ Jo replied.
‘I promise you, lady,’ Charlie said, sitting forward and smiling. ‘You will not find my prints on that spade. Your witness is a liar.’
‘Do you have proof that my client was there?’ Jacob asked, frowning. ‘I’m not hearing anything concrete here.’
‘Apart from an eyewitness?’ Jo snapped.
‘I should have seen this coming really,’ Charlie said, shaking his head. ‘Those two never got on from the day Brain approached me with his idea for smuggling gear over the wall into the prison.’
‘Brian Selby approached you?’ Alec snorted. ‘I’ve heard it all now.’
‘You can ask his work colleague. He’ll verify what I’m saying. His name is Luke Davis. The drone idea was Brian’s. He needed the money to pay for his mother’s carers. He looks after her but needed some help when he was at work.’
‘Are you serious?’ Jo scoffed.
‘Deadly serious,’ Charlie answered. ‘He’s a very clever man. He builds those drones himself, you know?’
‘We know,’ Alec said.
‘Have you seen his website?’ Charlie asked. He could tell by the expression on their faces that they hadn’t. ‘It’s amazing. He flies his drones all over the place and films it and uploads it onto his website. It’s well worth a look.’
‘We’ll do that.’
‘He comes over as a geek but he has the mind of a criminal. Some of the ideas he had for using his drones were amazing. Don’t fall for the fat child routine,’ he added, wagging his finger at them. ‘Stuart didn’t trust him.
He had his number straight away.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jo asked. She had seen both sides of Brian Selby and she was beginning to have her doubts about just how stupid he was. Charlie’s version was messing with her mind.
‘Stuart hated Brian,’ Charlie sighed. ‘From the very first time that they met. I should have known that things might get out of hand.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Jo asked, her tone full of frustration.
‘They didn’t get on at all,’ Charlie explained. ‘There was an argument about the drone and they had a fight.’ He paused as if to recall the memories. ‘They took some separating I can tell you. Stuart cut Brian’s face with a knife. He needed stitches.’
‘Brian said that you cut his face,’ Alec said, in a matter of fact tone. Charlie looked annoyed but didn’t react.
‘I suppose it would back up his story if he said that I had cut him but it isn’t the truth. Stuart cut him. Brian was very angry about it. I’ve never seen him become violent like that. He’s a big unit. Brian said that he was going to kill Stuart but Stuart just laughed at him. He said that he wouldn’t know when or where it would happen but he would kill him. I didn’t think that he meant it though, but looking back, there was something in his eyes when he said it, you know what I mean, don’t you?’
Alec looked at Jo and shook his head. It was obvious that either Charlie McGee had been working out his answers very carefully with Jacob Graff or Selby was leading them wherever he wanted to. One of them was lying.
‘You’re saying that you weren’t there?’ Alec asked for clarity. Charlie was about to answer but Jacob raised his hand.
‘You don’t need to answer that. Are you going to charge my client with the murder of Stuart Radcliffe?’ Jacob interjected.
‘Not right now,’ Jo said, looking at Alec. He agreed. ‘We have enough with all the surveillance evidence to keep him here while we decide exactly what to charge him with. There’s so much, we’ll just pick the really bad stuff,’ she said, with a straight face.
‘My office is working on exactly what is admissible so I wouldn’t be counting your chickens just yet, detectives,’ Jacob said, with a lizard smile. ‘Your informers were involved in criminal activity themselves while they were gathering evidence. I think we can class the majority of what you have as illegally obtained evidence. Hence it will be thrown out and a jury will never hear most of it.’
‘Bullshit,’ Alec sighed, tiring with Graff. ‘There’s enough admissible evidence there to convict the pope. He’s in it way above his head.’
‘I don’t think so but I think that we should proceed with, no comment for now, while you decide how credible your witness is or if he will even testify,’ Jacob said, with a half-smile. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You know what witnesses are like in this kind of case, very unreliable.’
‘I think the forensics will back it up,’ Jo said.
‘If you had forensics, you would be charging my client right now.’
‘Most of it is still being processed,’ Jo snapped. ‘You know what you said about counting chickens.’
‘Brian also told us about your abattoir and the Wicks brothers,’ Alec said, throwing a grenade into the conversation. He wanted to unnerve the smug bastard. Charlie shot a worried glance at Jacob. The confident mask dropped for a few seconds but soon returned.
‘No comment.’
‘We’ve made initial enquiries about the Wicks brothers, David and Graham,’ Jo added. ‘They’re listed as missing.’ Charlie grinned but it looked more like a grimace. ‘Did you know them?’
‘No comment.’
‘But you do have an abattoir?’ she pushed. Charlie looked at Jacob and nodded.
‘My client had a legitimate business interest in Cheshire a few years ago,’ Jacob interrupted. ‘It consisted of an abattoir, a processing plant, and a working farm shop where the public and trade people could buy meat and produce in bulk at a huge discount. The abattoir and animal pens have since been demolished and sold on as real estate.’ Jacob looked at Charlie for support. What Jacob had told them was the truth but even Jacob didn’t know about the illegal meat site a few miles away. Charlie nodded that he was correct. ‘A housing association made an offer that my client and his partners couldn’t refuse. The shop still runs well. All the paperwork is legitimate, they have regular inspections and the business is thriving and well respected.’ He paused to look at the detectives, his face stern. ‘The farm shop won several awards last year for the quality of its produce. I have no idea what your witness is referring to but any slanderous comments aimed at the business will be defended rigorously. As for your missing brothers, charge him or move on.’
‘We don’t need to charge him with anything else until we’re ready,’ Alec said, trying hard to remain calm. ‘Possession of a firearm and theft will do for now.’ He paused and looked at Charlie in the eyes.
‘Sorry it’s been a wasted journey for you,’ Charlie said, smiling.
‘Talking to you in handcuffs is never a waste of time, Charlie,’ Alec said, coldly. ‘We heard from one of our CI’s yesterday that there’s a contract out on you,’ Alec said, gauging the reaction in his eyes. He decided that Charlie already knew. ‘He said the Karpovs are offering big money for you to be wacked.’ Charlie didn’t speak but his face flushed purple. There was anger in his eyes. ‘The doctor said that you’ll be moved onto the wings from tomorrow. You’ll be like a fish in a barrel out there.’ Charlie’ expression darkened. Alec smiled thinly. ‘I think we’ll leave it for now.’ He looked at Jo and she agreed, a half smile on the corners of her lips. ‘You sleep tight,’ Alec added as they headed for the door. Jacob Graff folded his arms and smiled. It wasn’t a confident smile.
They made their way back through security and headed for Alec’s Shogun. It was a dull morning and dark moody clouds were rolling across the sky, threatening to empty their load on the city. Both detectives were weighing up the situation in their mind.
‘What do you make of that?’ Jo spoke first, putting on her seatbelt.
‘He didn’t just muddy the water, he took a great big dump in it,’ Alec said, starting the engine. ‘We need to get to Derrick Makin fast and we need to clarify what the CPS is going to allow in from the surveillance. As it stands, there is so much doubt in the case that it is way beyond reasonable doubt. I couldn’t convict on what we have and I know that he did it so a jury would have no chance. The CPS will throw it back in our faces.’
Alec’s mobile rang. The computer screen [EM24]showed it was Dr Graham Libby from the forensic lab.
‘Dr Libby,’ Alec answered. The call was on loud speaker. ‘Any good news for us?’
‘No,’ Dr Libby said. ‘The thirty-eight-calibre gun that you found on McGee is not the weapon that killed either of your victims. It is clean, I’m afraid.’
‘What type of weapon are we looking for, Dr?’ Jo asked.
‘The ammunition was nine-millimetre parabellum, probably a Glock, possibly something older like a Beretta.’
‘Dr, about the Radcliffe killing in the woods,’ Alec said, rubbing his palm over the stubble on his chin. ‘Do we have a definite cause of death yet?’
‘Well, he was shot first, as you know and then we have the three deep lacerations to the face and neck, which were inflicted while he was buried. The killer blow was to the throat. The larynx was smashed and the carotid arteries were severed causing massive blood loss and cardiac arrest.’ He paused. ‘Does that help?’
‘Not unless you can tell us who was holding the spade at the time,’ Alec said, shaking his head.
‘I can’t do that but I can confirm that the prints on the handle belong to Brian Selby.’ Alec and Jo exchanged glances. ‘I’m still waiting for the DNA to come back. That could be another week, not that it is going to help much is it?’
‘It would be enough to put McGee at the scene but I’m not holding my breath. Thanks, Dr,’ Alec sighed. The line went dead. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
‘Brian Selby killed Radcliffe?’ Jo said, sourly. ‘I can’t see that man shooting anyone, can you?’
‘I don’t see it,’ Alec agreed. He switched the headlights on as the rain intensified. ‘But the spade will be his. I’m sure of that and his prints are on it.’
‘His prints are on it because it is his spade,’ Jo said, trying to find an explanation. ‘What if McGee was there but had gloves on. He shot Radcliffe, buried him but he starts to struggle because he isn’t dead, so, he stabs him through the dirt, just like Selby said.’
Alec glanced at her. She looked stressed. He could see that she was trying to work out a way to lay the blame with Charlie McGee, twisting things in her mind to make them fit.
‘What if he wasn’t there?’
‘He was there. I know he was there and I know he shot Radcliffe. The rest of what happened is a cluster-fuck and it could jeopardise us proving McGee had anything to do with it. Something about Selby’s version isn’t sitting right with me.’
‘Classic one man’s word against another. We don’t have any proof to put McGee there but we do have Selby’s prints on the spade. It’s not looking good for him right now.’
‘Charlie McGee is behind all of this,’ Jo said, playing with the hair at her temple, curling around her finger. ‘Do you know what I hope for?’ Jo said, looking out of the window as the rain began to pour. The windscreen wipers squeaked into action. Alec turned the heating up and looked at her without answering. He could see in her eyes what she meant before she said it. ‘I hope someone gets to him in there and saves us a massive pain in the arse.’
chapter 20
Jack Howarth opened the industrial washing machine and dragged the wet clothing out onto a trolley. The smell of detergent filled the air but it didn’t mask the odour of stale sweat that came from the huge piles of dirty laundry, clothes, bedding, and towels. He reached inside the drum and grabbed the socks that were stuck to the metal. There were always socks stuck to the metal. Touching them made him nauseous even when they were clean but they were not as bad as handling skid-marked boxer shorts. They were the worst. He wore gloves nowadays and didn’t look at the dirty laundry anymore; he just grabbed it and looked the other way. He had been working in the laundry for two years, six hours a day, six days a week. There were three shifts working around the clock with a two-hour shut down of the machines in between each shift change for the clean laundry to be separated and distributed around the prison and for the dirty laundry to be collected and sorted into loads. As far as jobs inside prison went, it was decent enough. Not as good as working in the kitchen though. The prisoners working in the kitchen got to eat more and never went hungry. They could steal from the stores and make cash on what they could sneak back onto the wings. Working in the laundry had its own perks but they were not as lucrative as the kitchen. Some prisoners would pay for extra socks and clean underwear but most of them didn’t give a shit. Stinking of body odour and having skid marks in your undies made it less likely that a predator would single you out as a potential bitch. Rape was uncommon in British jails but the threat was part of the environment. The prison officers knew that it went on occasionally and they also knew that they could never stop it completely. If you lock up hundreds of males together with no females to fuck, they will end up fucking each other whether it is consensual or not. One cell mate had tried to fuck Jack once and nearly succeeded. He had waited for lights-out and then attacked him. Jack was a small man, skinny and unable to fight off his much bigger attacker. He had punched him senseless and held him down over a bunk but Jack had remembered what an older boy had told him at the orphanage where he had spent his younger years. If you can’t get away, shit your pants. No one wants to see or smell that up close. He had been right. Jack had squeezed as hard as he could and managed to fill his pants which had the desired effect. His cellmate let him go and didn’t bother him again that night. It was a frightening flashback to his childhood where the catholic priests had abused him. Painful memories flooded back to him, memories that shaped who he had become as an adult, a serial abuser.
