A Half Remembered Life (The Lakeland Murders Book 9)

by J. J. Salkeld

  ‘All right, thanks, that’s useful’, he said, when she’d answered a question about the types and colour of vehicles that the security people had used. ‘Now, Alice, if it’s not too upsetting can we talk a bit more about Cam’s, I mean Mike’s, death?’

  ‘Aye, all right. Sure.’

  ‘Good. Now, if I’m upsetting you just say so and I’ll stop, OK? Now, thinking back to that time, did you have any reason to think that Mike’s death was anything other than an accident?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. But I didn’t even realise he was a copper then, did I? I’d have asked a thousand bloody questions if I’d known, like.’

  ‘Of course. So, knowing what you know now, was there anything about Mike in those last few weeks, months maybe, that struck you as odd? Out of character, maybe, or anything like that?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything. A change in his behaviour, who he was seeing, what he was doing. Anything like that.’

  Alice thought about it, then thought some more.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not, no.’

  Hall asked much the same question three or four other ways, and then, finally, moved on.

  ‘Let’s talk about Vinny Battersby now. What did you make of him, back at that time?’

  Alice shrugged. ‘He was all right, I suppose. Very passionate, and bloody persuasive. It was all about the cause for him, like. And he was a local lad, remember, not an offcomer. So it all made that bit more to him, stopping that mine. He used to say to us that he was hefted to St. Bees Head, like a bloody sheep. And it’s funny the way he’s turned out, isn’t it?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, he’s rich now, isn’t he? He never seemed that bothered about money, back in the day. He didn’t have a pot to piss in, anyway. None of us did, mind. He lived in an old bus, if I remember rightly. I think they had to tow that old crap heap away, when it was all over.’

  Hall nodded and smiled. ‘And what happened to Vinny straight after that, when it was over, do you know? How did he get a start with his eco-business, and all that?’

  ‘No idea, I’m afraid. I’ve not seen the bloke in donkey’s years. He was always a right good talker though, was our Vinny. He used to make you feel like you were the only person who mattered, you know what I mean? Like he was trying to change opinions, change the world, even, one person at a time. Talk to anyone, he would. And I do mean anyone. Some of the group used to complain, the way he talked to those security guys. Most of us wouldn’t give them the time of day.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, aye. But Vinny said they were just local lads, the same as him, trying to earn a crust, like. That it wasn’t their fault, that they were victims too. You know, stuff like that. All bollocks, I expect, but we believed it at the time, like.’

  ‘And did he talk to Stan Greig? He’s the lad who…’

  ‘I know who he was, Andy. Aye, he talked to all of the security lads, that Stan, all of them, even the boss man.’

  ‘Do you know that man’s name?’

  ‘Green. That was the name of the business, anyway. Eric Green, that’s what they call him. His dad owned the business, but Eric ran it, as far as we could see.’

  Five minutes later Hall was finished. He glanced at Mann, who shook his head. He didn’t have any additional questions.

  ‘Thanks, Alice,’ said Hall. ‘That’s all, for now, anyway. But is there anything you’d like to ask us, before we leave you in peace?’

  ‘Pete says you think that Vinny has been having me watched recently. Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Pretty sure, yes.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Honestly? I’m not sure. Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘But you’ve got an idea, a theory, right?’

  Hall smiled. ‘Yes, I do. There is one idea, one particular hypothesis that might fit the facts. You’ve helped to confirm it today, actually. But it might take a bit of time for us to work it all through properly, so for now it’s just guesswork, and speculation. That’s why I don’t want us to discuss it now. You do understand, I hope, Alice. It’s just me and Ian here, working on this. We don’t have any other resources, or help.’

  ‘You’ve got Grace.’

  Hall laughed in surprise. ‘You’re right. And where would we be without Detective Grace Hall, the youngest cop on the strength?’

  Tuesday, 30th September

  Industrial estate, Whitehaven, 11.07am

  Andy Hall was glad that he’d turned down Ian Mann’s offer to use his car for the drive through the Lakes, up over Dunmail Raise then on past Keswick, because Grace clearly hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he had. They’d stopped twice, and Hall didn’t even bother trying to wipe the various spillages off the back seat properly anymore. Mann could tut all he liked, but the most valuable part of Hall’s ancient BMW was the set of new tyres that he’d put on it recently, so he didn’t think a bit of spilt formula would make any difference.

  As he drove Mann scanned the pile of print-outs that Hall had given him.

  ‘All right, Andy, I give up. What does all this mean? Can I have the idiot’s guide, like? My idea of high finance is deciding whether to invest £5 or £10 in the Lottery of a Saturday morning, mate.’

  ‘The smart money is on no pounds, but that’s by the by. And yes, it is a bit of a tangle, isn’t it? The half of the night that I wasn’t up with Grace I spent trying to work it all out, and I think I have, more or less. Eric Green did put money into Battersby’s first significant business venture, about a year after the end of the protest, and Battersby bought him out of it about five years ago. Green did very well indeed out of it, because I reckon that his profit was nearly five million quid.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Exactly. But before we get too excited, and start connecting Battersby and Green in some vast criminal conspiracy, it’s worth noting that there was no effort on Green’s part to conceal his investment. It came through a shell company, yes, but that’s not unusual, apparently. And if he’d really wanted to hide his investment there are lots of ways that he could have done it. Maybe not perfectly, so that his involvement would never, ever be found, but he could have done enough to mean that it would have taken a forensic accountant a few days to make and prove the connection. It took me about twenty minutes, and I am to accountancy what King Herod was to childcare.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that I very much doubt he’ll try to hide his financial involvement with Battersby when we talk to him, Ian. I could be wrong, but I’d expect him to be quite friendly and open about the whole thing. He certainly sounded that way when I called him first thing this morning. And he was willing to see us today too, which must mean something.’

  They found Eric Green Security easily enough, a big, blank building with a gatehouse to the road, on the outskirts of Whitehaven, and a car park beyond.

  ‘Someone doesn’t trust the local law’, said Mann, as they pulled up at the gate and Hall wound down the window, listening to the winder motor’s grinding sound. He just hoped that it would go back up again. The young security guard glanced into the back of Hall’s car, grinned, then lifted the gate. Hall parked in the visitor spot nearest the door, and Mann waited while he carefully extracted Grace’s car seat, before setting off for reception. Both men were suited and booted, although there was a noticeably damp patch on the left hand shoulder of Hall’s dark suit jacket.

  They waited for five minutes, watching the uniformed staff come and go. It was rather like a police station, but without any cons, so it was eerily quiet. Mann didn’t like it at all. Eric Green came and fetched them from reception himself, and Mann put down the car magazine he’d been reading. Hall thought that he needn’t have bothered wearing a suit after all, because Green, like the rest of his staff, was wearing a blue polo shirt with the company crest embroidered on the breast. Hall tried to think of the name for that approach, then glanced down at Green’s hand-made brogues. It seemed that single status d
idn’t extend to footwear, and still less to salaries, he thought.

  Green took them up the stairs and along a long, blank corridor, then showed them into his office, which was as bland as the uniforms.

  ‘Do sit, gentlemen. Is there anything that I can get for your…’

  ‘Daughter. No, thank you, Grace will be fine.’

  ‘Always a pleasure to help the police.’

  ‘We’re not police. Well, I’m not, I’m retired, and Ian here is currently suspended. As I explained on the phone we have no official authority whatsoever.’

  Green smiled. ‘So I could have you thrown out whenever I want?’

  Hall smiled back, and replied before Mann could.

  ‘You wouldn’t need to throw us out, sir. Just tell us if you don’t want to answer our questions, and we’ll be away.’

  ‘Only kidding, and I’m very happy to help if I can. You said on the phone that you’re investigating the circumstances around the death of young Cam Donald, all those years since.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you think his death was suspicious, do you? That certainly wasn’t the view at the time, for whatever that’s worth. And you do know that my contractor, Stan Greig, killed himself over it, the poor old sod?’

  ‘We did know that, yes.’

  ‘Of course, of course you do. Well, if you ask me the fact that he topped himself means absolutely nowt. He was depressed, because of the accident. That’s all it was.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s a very helpful insight. But it wasn’t Mr. Greig we wanted to ask you about, actually’, said Hall. He was smiling, but Mann wasn’t. He just had his eyes fixed on Green’s face, counting the tiny beads of perspiration that were already gathering on his top lip.

  Green smiled again, but a little less convincingly.

  ‘You ask the questions. Of course, how stupid of me. Crack on, then. You just ask away, Mr. Hall.’

  ‘It was Mr. Battersby we wanted to chat about, mainly.’

  ‘Vinny? Of course. Just fire away. Lovely bloke, he is. What did you want to know, exactly?’

  ‘You met during the protests, did you?’

  ‘Aye, we did. My old fella was running the firm then, of course, but I got to know Vinny over the year or so that it all went on. I know there was the odd set-to, like, but it’s funny how things developed. Because after a while me and the other lads from Greens got to know most of the protestors. Even had a drink with them, we did, the odd night. But that didn’t stop anyone from getting stuck right in again the next day, like.’

  ‘All part of the fun?’

  ‘Exactly. We felt like we were all in it together, in a funny way, I suppose.’

  ‘But it was profitable fun, for your business, I mean?’

  ‘Oh, aye. It’s no secret, isn’t that. That job turned this firm around, there’s no question about it.’

  ‘And how about Vinny Battersby? What happened to him, when it was all over?’

  ‘He just saw all this ‘Energy Coast’ stuff coming for West Cumbria, did Vinny, and he had an idea about how to get into the green energy game on the ground floor. He came to me with an idea, and I sold it to our board. Best decision I ever made, I can tell you.’ Green paused, and smiled at the thought of something. ‘Put it this way, Mr. Hall, when we sold our shares back to Vinny a few years back I got a ‘my other car’s a Porsche’ sticker for my Porsche.’ He grinned across at Mann, who stared blankly back. ‘We’re here all week, like,’ he added.

  Hall smiled encouragingly, and didn’t speak again until the ripple of it had left his features. ‘Wasn’t it strange though, Vinny coming to you like that? What with you being on opposite sides, and everything. And maybe even odder, in a way, you getting your security firm involved with an eco-warrior like him? It all sounds a bit flaky, if I may say so, although of course I’m no expert.’

  ‘I know what you mean, but actually it all felt completely natural at the time. He’s a local lad, is Vinny, and the banks wouldn’t have looked at him back then. He had dreadlocks in those days, though you wouldn’t think it now, would you? And as to us taking a chance on him, and why we did it, that’s easy enough. Because, like I said, we made a fair bit of cash during the protest, so we had money we needed to put to work. And it all turned out pretty well for everyone, didn’t it?’

  Hall looked steadily at Green. He expected that Green would jump back in, if he just gave him a little bit of clear blue water. Enough to drown in, maybe.

  ‘So what’s your interest in Vinny then, Mr. Hall? He’s not done owt, has he?’

  Hall let the question go past, as if unnoticed, and then he started to talk, slowly and quietly. He sounded like a particularly patient schoolteacher.

  ‘If we accept for a moment that Cam Donald was murdered, rather than being killed in an accident, then we have to understand why he was killed, and by whom, yes?’

  ‘If he was murdered then it was by Stan Greig. We all know that. He was driving the digger, like, and he never denied that.’

  ‘You’re right, of course, and I should have expressed myself more clearly. If Greig was ordered by a third party to murder Cam Donald, then we have to ask about whose orders he was following, and why were those orders ever given?’

  ‘Don’t look at me, mate. I’ve got no idea. Because it’s all bollocks, is this, like. The what-you-call-it, the premise, it’s all wrong.’

  ‘Quite possibly. But I have a theory that might fit the facts. Would you like to hear it?’

  ‘Aye, go on, then. You’ve driven all this way with the baby, and everything.’

  ‘Good. So how about this? Cam Donald found out that a protestor and someone from your firm were actually working together, and that the protest was increased in scale, and violence, with the sole intention of forcing the mining company to spend more and more on security and protection for its people, plant and machinery. As a result of making this discovery Cam Donald was killed by Stan Greig.’

  Green took his time before he replied. He frowned, as if struggling to understand something.

  ‘But Stan would have had that motive on his own. He was skint, you know, before we came along and took him on. Maybe you’re right, because you’re the detective, but if you are then Stan was acting on his own, like. Definitely.’

  ‘Who employed him? Can you remember?’

  ‘No, I can’t.’

  ‘Would it be in your files somewhere?’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t. We didn’t do much on paper in those days. It was all done on a handshake, and lots of the lads were paid cash in hand. You know how it was back then, Mr. Hall.’

  ‘No income tax, no VAT?’

  Green got the reference and smiled, a little tensely.

  ‘Aye, exactly. Not that my old man was some kind of Del Boy, like.’

  Hall let his own smile freeze over, slowly but discernibly.

  ‘No, it wasn’t Stan Greig who was behind the murder of Cam Donald. It was people with far more to gain than him.’

  For the first time Green raised his voice when he replied. It wasn’t by much, but it was enough.

  ‘Come on, out with it. You think it was all down to dad, or me, and that Vinny was in on it, don’t you? And what? Our investment in his business was pay-back for services rendered, is that it? Or blackmail money, maybe?’

  Hall spread his hands, and waited.

  ‘Jesus wept, you two must be out of your minds. Where’s the evidence? Eh, where’s the evidence? You’ve just put two and two together and made about a hundred and bloody fifty. It was an accident, pure and bloody simple. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do. You lads are a right waste of bloody space. I should never have let you in here.’

  Green pressed a button on his desk, and two big men came in fast, before Hall had even picked Grace up off the ground.

  ‘Out’, the bigger of the two said.

  ‘We were just…’

  But Hall didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence, because t
he other man grabbed at his arm, the one that was still lifting Grace. It was to be that man’s last conscious movement for some little time, partly because the twitching that started a few seconds later would be entirely involuntary, but mainly because Hall had barely even started to begin to push the man away when he sensed, rather than saw, Mann’s fist swinging, fast and hard. The man flew backwards, while the other charged at Mann, trying to get him in some kind of bear-squeeze. But Mann ducked, the arms closed above him, and he hit the man, twice, in the gut. He doubled over, and Mann kneed him hard in the head on the way down. He was rag-doll limp before he hit the floor.

  There was silence for a few seconds, then Mann calmly bent down and checked their pulses in turn.

  ‘They’ll live,’ he said, looking at Hall.

  ‘I’m sorry, lads’, said Green, looking shocked. ‘My boys were a bit too keen, weren’t they? That’s all it was. Jack laid hands on you, Mr. Hall, I saw it, and that should never have happened. But lessons learned, and all that. We get all sorts in here, see, so they just over-reacted, my lads.’

  ‘We understand’, said Hall. ‘Would you like me to call the local police? We’re very happy to stay, obviously, if so.’

  ‘No, no, you lads get on your way. Nothing to see here, like. I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding, gents. And if you ever want a job, Mr. Mann, you know where to come.’

  ‘That’s very kind,’ said Hall, ‘come on, Ian. Let’s make a move.’

  Grace hadn’t even stirred, and Hall had reached the door, and was half way through it with her, before he realised that Mann wasn’t behind him.

  ‘Oh, shit, Ian….’ he began, as he turned.