Matt flipped through the pages of his notepad. ‘We are looking at a Land Rover’, and he reeled off the registration number.
Stan strode back to his desk and removed a ledger from the top drawer. He flicked through the pages. ‘Ah yes! I can vouch for this one. We sourced it from our partnership in Fishguard and sold it to a family friend, Catherine Hunter, sorry actually, Catherine Crystal. I keep forgetting she got married, Hunter was her maiden name. It was sold to her on September 11th of this year; she collected it with her husband. I can assure you, the paper trail on this vehicle is all above board.’
‘When they left here, where did they go?’
Stan Clayton puckered up his bottom lip as he gave the question some thought. ‘They came down for a few days holiday and went off up the coast; I’ve no idea where they went. Mind you they did call back on the Monday on their way home. Catherine was upset; she tried not to show it, but I could tell. I’ve known her since she was a kid you know. She traded in her Micra to purchase the Disco but she phoned me on the Sunday from their digs and wanted to buy it back. So on the Monday morning she came in and picked it up. It seemed awful strange because she even came in with her cases and that fella of hers just drove off. I don’t know what she saw in that chap. I only met him a couple of times and he gave me the creeps.’
‘So you had no conversation at all with Kevin Crystal?’
‘So you know Kevin Crystal do you detective?’ He waited for an answer that was not forthcoming. ‘Well no . . . that’s not quite true; I did speak with Crystal. On the Friday, it wasn’t an hour after they had left, I got a phone call; it was him. He was in a right panic. They had driven down onto a beach and got stuck in the sand; needed a tow. That beach has no private access so we couldn’t help. Well next morning he walked in just to tell me that he had managed to get the Discovery off the beach. Low ratio four wheel drive had done the trick, no problem, but it gave him a scare. I was actually surprised at what he told me because I know that beach and if you get stuck, you definitely need a tow, four wheel drive or not! Oh, and he thanked me for setting up the deal for Catherine.’
Matt wasn’t satisfied; he needed more. ‘Was there anything else that was said by Crystal, that seemed strange or suspicious?’
Stan Clayton shuffled uneasily. ‘Tell me detective, whose being the detective here? It seems to me that you are more interested in Kevin Crystal than you are in the suspect vehicle!’
Matt had been caught out and he knew it. Orla had stood back, saying nothing. What now Matt?
His eyes were downcast, a look of resignation on his face. ‘I haven’t been straight with you Mr. Clayton, for that I apologise, but it has been brought to our attention that Mr. Kevin Crystal is not all he appears to be. We are not able to give you any information other than to tell you we are checking on his movements whilst he was here in Llantywyn.’
Stan Clayton chuckled nervously. ‘Not much he could get up to down here, but why don’t you speak to Catherine?’
Matt offered him a muted smile. ‘I wish we could, but if he realises we are watching him, we could be putting Catherine in danger!’
‘My God, what are you saying? What the hell has this bastard been up to?’
Orla had been quiet for long enough. ‘Mr. Clayton, we are unable to give you any further information, in fact we have allowed too much to let slip. We know of your close relationship with Catherine and her family and we would ask, no I’m afraid we have to insist that you don’t breathe a word of what we have spoken about to anyone; anyone at all.’
Now visibly agitated, he wasn’t happy. ‘And how long have I got to keep my trap shut?’
‘We would expect to have this investigation completed within the week, but for Catherine’s sake I would ask you to remain silent until we have given you the OK.’ With that, they made their way back to the car with Matt swearing under his breath. ‘God that was a mess. We gave too much away and got little in return!’ Orla remained quiet, but not happy being included in the “we”. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’
‘Nothing you’d like to hear, God have you seen the time, it's a quarter past six. I hope they’ve kept our rooms.’
‘Relax Orla, you worry too much.’
The Hotel Receptionist smiled sweetly as they approached. ‘Good evening, how may I help you?’
‘We have two rooms booked in the names of Black and Graham!’ Orla waited.
The receptionist rattled around on her keyboard, before looking up. ‘Ah yes, here we are; you didn’t leave any card details when you booked!’
‘No, your system was down when I booked, so I was unable to leave any payment. Your order clerk said that would not be a problem.’
‘Well normally that would be the case but we have “Caleb Carpenter” in town this week and rooms have become scarce. You were required to book in by six o’clock and I’m afraid that didn’t happen; your rooms have already been taken. I’m sorry.’
‘Leave it Orla! . . . We’ll find somewhere else.’
They turned and left the foyer. ‘Matt, I’m so angry; they had no right to flog off our rooms like that!’
‘It’s OK; it was my fault getting us caught up with the motor man. Anyway I Don’t like the feel of this place; let’s go!’
Chapter 44
An hour later, a tearful Orla had reached a new low. ‘That’s it Matt, there aren’t any more doors to knock on. God knows how far the next town is and we’ve got to be back here by nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’
‘Orla . . . there’s a pub at the end of the street; on the corner. Let’s get a drink before we move on. You need a pick me up . . . I know I do.’
‘But I’m driving!’
‘Don’t worry; I’ll do the driving. I just need something to settle me.’
The “Burning Bush” had seen better days. The uninviting swing doors in the entrance dragged on the floor. The drab lobby gave them two options. On the left was the lounge and on the right, the bar. They opted for the lounge but on entering found the room empty.
‘So . . . looks like it’s the bar.’ Orla led the way into a room bustling with activity. Half a dozen locals were gathered around the dartboard and a crowd of youths were attempting to play pool. Electronic bagatelles were busy eating money and the sound of a juke box added to the general melee. ‘Nice place you’ve brought me to!’
‘I try.’ As they moved towards the bar, the clientele became aware of their presence. Slowly the level of sound began to fall until all that could be heard was the wail from the juke box. All eyes were focused on the intruders. Matt murmured,
‘I think we’ve been spotted.’
Brazenly, Orla moved towards the bar. ‘You offered to buy me a drink.’
The bartender moved to greet them. Ignoring Matt, he smiled at Orla. ‘Evening . . . What can I get you?’
‘We’ll have a pint of Guinness and a half of Carlsberg thanks.’
‘Cummin right up!’ Slowly the bar returned to normal as the riff raff settled back into their routine.
Matt’s eyes were downcast. ‘We’ve got ourselves into a bit of a pickle . . . ’
‘Haven’t you!’
He accepted the jibe without comment. ‘I don’t mind where we sleep Orla, as long as it’s not in the car . . . but we’ll feel better after this.’ He raised his glass, closing his eyes as he took a sip. ‘God, I needed that!’
The barman, still hovering as he cleaned glasses, finally acknowledged that Matt was there. ‘Have you come far?’ The Irish twang was unmistakable.
‘We’ve just driven down from the Midlands.’
‘You’re a long way from home; are you here for Caleb’s Crusade?’
‘You’re a long way from home yerself?’ Orla had picked up on the accent.
The barman smiled. ‘I am indeed . . . like yurrself! I left County Cavan about five years ago to seek fame and fortune, but like everything these days, they’re in short supply. You’re from Tyrone maybe?’
‘Fermanagh.’
‘Ah! Lovely country . . . “The Lakeland”. So are you here to see the local boy who made good? Not his real name yer know.’
‘I’d never have guessed!’ Matt’s remark went unnoticed.
‘No he was plain and simple Dafydd Beynon when he left here. Ended up doing time for some con trick. Fleeced hundreds out of thousands, but “found his way” while inside. Had a vision or something like that; how did he put it, he got his “calling”. It must be nice to get a calling; I wonder what mine will be when it comes? Anyway, what he has got is the gift of the gab. Became very successful; has got a big following and’
‘A big tent!’ interrupted Matt biting his tongue as he said it.
The barman cast him a sideways glance. ‘I was going to say, and gets a hero’s welcome when he returns here for this week every year.’
Matt swigged the last of his beer. ‘Actually, the reason we won’t be staying in Llantywyn tonight is because of your Caleb Carpenter. There’s no accommodation to be had! You haven’t got any rooms have you?’
The barman shook his head. ‘No . . . used to, but not anymore. We don’t have a decent kitchen and guests expect to eat.’
‘Yes they can be unreasonable like that! Excuse me for a minute.’ Matt left the bar and went in search of the rest-room.
‘What’s got into him?’ The barman cocked his head in the direction of the departed Matt.
‘He’s just a bit miffed; I didn’t catch your name?’
‘Declan . . . Declan Quinn.’
‘He’s upset Declan, because we lost our rooms at the Grand. Got there too late and they let them go . . . and it was his fault.’
‘Ah I see. I’d be rattled too if it had been me. A night of passion has been put on hold!’
Orla gasped. ‘It’s not like that. We don’t have that sort of relationship!’
‘Who’s fault is that then?’
Orla looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘Declan please!’
‘OK, OK, sorry.’ He smiled as he busied himself. ‘I’ll tell you what I can do for you; I’ve got a room. We charge it out by the hour; right now it’s not busy. I might upset a couple of the regulars but you can have that if you want it. It’s a double room, but only one bed. No frills and the bathroom is down the corridor.’
‘You say you charge it out by the hour! Who on earth would use it by the hour?’ Orla looked at him quizzically. ‘Oh, don’t tell me it’s used for that!’
Declan smiled. ‘It’s only a room and we keep it clean; sheets get changed twice a week whether they need it or not.’
‘Oh, that’s just lovely.’
‘Well it’s your choice . . . but you’ll have to be quick, Glenda has just come in with a bloke in tow, and that’s twenty quid to me!’
‘We’ll take it Declan. How much?’
‘Fifty . . . cash up front.’
‘Only if we get clean sheets!’ He smiled and nodded in agreement. ‘That’s great; thanks for that.’ What the hell will Matt say?
He appeared at her shoulder. ‘Sup up Orla we’ve got to get on the road.’
‘Sit down. What would you like to drink?’
‘I can’t, I’m driving.’
‘No you’re not; we’re staying. We’ve got a room.’
Matt’s eyes opened wide. ‘Brilliant! How did you manage that? I thought he didn’t have anything?’
‘Well he does have a room and we’ve got it. It’s going to cost you fifty quid.’
‘Fantastic! He obviously fancies you.’
‘And why wouldn’t he?’
Matt laughed at her remark. ‘Hold on.’ His senses had suddenly kicked in. ‘You said a room; does that mean we’re sharing? Has it got twin beds?’
‘Yes and no, in that order!’ How are you going to handle that! Matt was dumbstruck; his mind churning over the situation that had been thrust before him.
‘Relax Matt; didn’t you ever have sleepovers when you were a kid?’
‘No, I can’t say I did.’ He slowly settled down on his barstool.
Orla motioned to Declan. ‘A large Carlsberg and a large Magner’s please Declan.’
‘Oh, it’s Declan now is it?’
‘Yes, that’s his name!’ Now over her crisis and feeling good, Orla paid for the drinks. ‘There you are . . . cheers, bottoms up!’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oops!’ She laughed. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that!’
Matt shook his head, he was in unfamiliar territory and uncomfortable; his face showed it.
‘Oh for heaven’s sake Matt, lighten up. It should be me that should be worried about appearances, not you. It’s me that has a reputation to lose. What was the last thing you said to me?’ Matt looked up, his mind spinning. ‘You said you didn’t mind where you slept as long as it wasn’t in the car. Well I’ll tell you what, you take the room; I’ll sleep in the car!’ Orla lifted her glass and took a long drink.
Matt had to avert the crisis that was looming. ‘Orla I’m sorry I’ve been difficult, but this is not easy for me. There are other issues that are bothering me.’
‘Such as?’ she was cross and showed it.
‘Such as I’m your superior and I should never have allowed this situation to have developed. If anyone found out that we had shared a room, we would both be fired.’
‘Aren’t we supposed to be on leave?’ She took another long drink.
Matt pondered the question; a slow smile began to trickle forth. ‘You’ve got a point.’
God Matt, you’re hard work. I daren’t tell you what they use our room for. ‘Have you got fifty pounds in cash? He wants cash!’
Matt opened his wallet. ‘You’re lucky!’
‘No Matt, we’re lucky; get with it!’ He smiled shyly as he handed her the notes.
Declan had watched the pair with interest. On seeing the notes exchanged, he wandered over. ‘Everything OK?’
‘There you are Declan.’ He took the notes and slipped them into his pocket.
‘When do we get the key?’
‘Go and get your cases and I’ll meet you on the stairs. You don’t need to come through the bar. There’s a side door, leads straight to the staircase. People like to come and go without drawing attention.’
Matt looked up. ‘Why’s that?’
Orla didn’t allow Declan to reply. ‘Come on Matt let’s get our stuff!’ Five minutes later they were in the room.
‘Which side of the bed do you want?’
Orla eyed the room. ‘Can I have the side nearest the door? If I need the bathroom in the night! . . . C’mon, let’s go and eat; I'm starving.’
Once outside, the cool night air began to work wonders and they were both in good spirits. As they turned a corner a bright window caught Matt’s attention. ‘Welcwm Bach Cafe! . . . What do you think?’
‘Not much . . . I’m all for a bit of nationalistic pride, but that’s pushing it! It’s also empty; never a good sign. Look it’s gone half past eight and I don’t fancy walking the town; let’s chance it.’
She led the way and was greeted by a cheerful, buxom lady. ‘Come in dears; sit anywhere you like.’
Matt followed Orla to a table. As he brushed past the waitress, he remarked. ‘Looks like you’ve had a quiet night?’
‘Looks can be deceptive young man; rushed off my feet an hour ago. The microwave never stopped.’ She passed him a Menu. ‘I’ll come back in a couple of minutes.’
He called after her. ‘What would be your choice?’
‘Ah well now, two young people out on the town looking for a romantic
evening,’ she smiled, ‘If it was me, I’d probably go for chateaubriand with a bottle of
Chilean Merlot.’
Orla’s eyes sparkled. ‘Sounds great; we’ll settle for that!’
‘Oh I’m sorry my dear; I was off to dreamland there, for a minute . . . it’s not something we do!’
‘Let’s try again shall we. What would you recommend from your Menu?’
<
br /> ‘Well . . . we pride ourselves on our local dishes. I would go for the leek and potato pie.’
The detectives looked at each other; Orla spoke for them both. ‘I don’t think so.’
Somewhat miffed, the waitress tried again. ‘Leek and bacon?’ . . . She waited . . . ‘Leek and chicken?’
The pair nodded in agreement. ‘And we’ll have two teas; thanks.’ The waitress retreated back to the kitchen.
‘I wonder how we will be received by the local constabulary tomorrow morning?’
‘We’ve got to find something Orla, or this whole investigation will go into free-fall. We’ve really got nothing on Crystal. It’s all circumstantial as you know but he will have made a mistake somewhere: it’s up to us to find it.’ The ping of the microwave brought a weak knowing smile to each of their faces. ‘Bon appétit.’
The meal finished they stepped outside. ‘Would you like to go for a walk?’ Matt hoped she wasn’t. He was still not over the session he had spent with Tom Dundas and was already longing for his bed.
‘If it’s all the same to you Matt I’d rather get back; maybe have a quiet drink before turning in.’
He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That will suit me, but I think I’ll forego the drink.’ They started back, the street now dark and empty. The pub lights in the distance shone like a beacon through the evening mist.
‘Do you mind if I hold your arm Matt, like we are together? It feels a bit creepy; it’s very dark.’ She slipped her arm into his, but as they walked and being shorter, her hand slowly moved down his arm until they touched hands. She squeezed it softly. Without thinking, Matt responded in kind
‘Your parents Matt,’ she hesitated, a bit unsure how to proceed, ‘were they, how can I put it; a bit off the wall?’
Matt smiled; a confused look on his face. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, your name, Matt . . . Matt Black!’
He laughed . . . ‘They christened me Matthew, not Matt and to be honest I’ve not given it a lot of thought. I’ve never really been one to reflect.’
‘OK OK, I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’ Beaming smiles had settled on their faces and nothing more was said as they completed their walk. A collection of cars and motorcycles were parked around the “Burning Bush”; the noise of raised voices and loud music emanated from the bar.
A Killer's Calling: Incite to Murder 1 Page 18
