Snakes and Ladders

by Adam Croft

  Charles Hawes’s call had gone in to the governor a little earlier, but it had already been too late. Again, Jack felt overwhelmed with anger and fury towards Gary McCann.

  Their relationship had always been complex, but he’d believed McCann to be a man of his word. There’d been a grudging respect for years. Now he realised the man was nothing but a cunt who’d sell his own grandmother if it gained him an advantage. And that was before his thoughts even turned to Frank.

  Frank had been his friend and colleague for years, but his betrayal had destroyed almost everything they’d had. It had certainly destroyed the respect Jack had for him. If Jack had been asked a few days earlier whether he cared what happened to Frank, he would’ve said no. As far as he was concerned, Frank was merely his route to nailing Gary McCann. He’d lost all other status in Jack’s mind. But Jack had been surprised by how hard the news of Frank’s death had hit him.

  More than anything else, it all seemed such a ridiculous waste. A long career, a decent life, all thrown away in pursuit of cash and ending in a pool of blood on the floor of a prison cell. What was the point? What had the previous years been for? And now there was absolutely no chance whatsoever of redemption. The one thing Frank had which could have potentially salvaged some aspect of his reputation was his ability to testify against McCann and help bring him down. Now he didn’t even have that, and nor did Jack.

  His thoughts turned to how his family would hear the news. It would be usual for the Chief Constable to inform the family of the death of a police officer, but did Frank deserve that honour? Would it be left to Jack as his former colleague and friend? In a way, Jack felt it was his duty. It was certainly preferable to a faceless PC going round and delivering the news. He was quite sure Frank’s family wouldn’t want that. Nor would Frank.

  But did it matter what Frank wanted? Frank had always done whatever he wanted, and look where that’d got him. He’d hardly earned the right to call the shots — not if you made the assumption that his years of service had been completely wiped out by his recent corruption. That ‘if’ was one Jack bounced around in his mind over and over again.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been standing outside that door, but he quickly realised his thoughts weren’t going to clear any time soon, and he wandered back down the corridor in the direction of his office. He was barely a few yards away when the door to the incident room opened and Debbie Weston came bursting out.

  ‘Ah. There you are, guv. We’ve just had a call from the search teams on the scene at Clive Blake’s house. They’ve found something buried in the garden. A bag of blood-stained clothes.’

  ‘Okay. That’s good. That’s good, Debbie.’

  ‘Are you alright? You look a bit pale.’

  ‘Uh. Yeah. Fine. I, uh…’

  Jack looked at Debbie, one of his most loyal and unassuming colleagues. Even through all the issues in her personal life, she’d been steadfast in her determination. She’d never sought or encouraged promotion, happy to remain a Detective Constable, yet more often than not being the one who uncovered that crucial piece of information which unlocked the case. He silently admonished himself for allowing Frank’s actions to destroy his trust of absolutely anybody, and steeled himself to deliver the news.

  ‘I just got back from the Chief Constable’s office, Debbie. He had some bad news. Frank died earlier this evening.’

  ‘Oh.’ Debbie took a few moments to absorb the news. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘You don’t want to know. Let’s just leave it at that for now. So. Clive Blake. Uh, are they running tests on the blood?’

  ‘Yeah. Will be a couple of days before we get results. But it’s got to be Matthew’s blood. It implicates Clive more heavily if he’s been hiding the clothes. Explains how Connor got away with it for so long, too.’ Debbie sighed. ‘Look, is this the time for us to be doing this? We can leave it until the news has sunk in. We can get an extension.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘No. No, I need a distraction.’

  49

  Jack had made the deliberate decision not to tell Wendy what’d happened to Frank until after they’d interviewed Clive Blake again, at the very earliest. He wanted her to have a clear mind and to drive the interview. He was in no fit state to do so, after all. He’d asked Debbie not to mention anything to anyone else. The others had all gone home for the night anyway, and he felt it would be more fitting to address everyone at the morning briefing.

  As he sat behind the table in the interview room, opposite Clive Blake and his solicitor, Jack wondered what Gary McCann was doing at that moment. He could picture him sitting in his living room, drinking champagne with Helen, arms round each other as McCann beamed from ear to ear at how fucking clever he was. Not only had he escaped justice yet again, but he’d managed to get another one over on Jack by moving his own fucking wife into the house. The man’s smugness and ego knew no bounds. All Jack wanted to do was get out of this interview room, drive over to McCann’s house and kick his fucking head in. And he knew that was exactly what McCann wanted. Whatever Jack did, he was one step ahead.

  ‘Clive, we’re interviewing you again this evening because some new evidence has come to light,’ Wendy said, calm and professional, oblivious to everything that’d happened. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’ve had search teams at your property since your arrest. They’re trained to look for evidence and items which might be of interest to our investigation. Do you understand that?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do. And if you’ve been trashing my house and taking furniture apart, I damn well hope it’ll be absolutely pristine by the time you’ve left, or I’ll be dragging you through the courts to pay for every last penny. It’s a huge invasion of privacy, that’s what it is.’

  ‘Why are you so angry, Clive?’ Jack asked, noticing the change in the man’s attitude.

  Clive threw his arms up in the air and made a noise like a van stopping on gravel. ‘Oh, come on. You’ve locked me up in here, throwing all sorts of accusations around, and now you tell me you’re harassing my family and taking my house apart. What do you want me to do, breakdance?’

  ‘No, we expect you to cooperate so this can all be over and done with as quickly as possible,’ Wendy said. ‘It’s in everybody’s best interests. Now, during their search of your property, the team discovered something of interest buried in your back garden. Do you have any idea what that might be?’

  ‘No. But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.’

  Wendy passed over a photo of a muddied carrier bag, opened just enough to see some fabric inside. ‘Do you recognise this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a Sainsbury’s carrier bag with some clothing inside. Ring any bells?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That was found buried in your garden, Clive. Any idea how it might have got there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you have a gardener, perhaps?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Clive, I have to tell you there’s heavy blood staining on that clothing. It’s currently undergoing tests to identify whose blood it is. Do you want to say anything to that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you agree to hide the bloodstained clothing for Connor French so he wouldn’t get caught?’

  ‘No.’

  Jack tensed his jaw and bit his tongue, but it was no use. ‘Oh, for crying out loud! Everyone can see it, Clive. I can see it. DS Knight can see it. That gormless tit sitting next to you can see it. And I sure as hell know you can see it. You handed twenty-five grand in cash over to Connor French, who was seen walking Matthew Hulford to Mildenheath Woods on the night he died, then returning alone. We found the knife with Matthew’s blood and Connor’s fingerprints on it. Did you try disposing of that, too? You chose to hide the clothes in your garden. Were you going to chuck those in the bin next week? Spread it out a bit, maybe? Try to keep the evidence away from Connor French?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let me tell you
something, Clive,’ Jack said, his voice a deep growl. ‘I am fucking sick of people lying to me. I’ve had enough of people trying to deceive me. The evidence is all here that you paid Connor French to kill Matthew, then tried covering up for him. Now the least you can do is be a fucking man about it and have the decency to admit to everyone what you’ve done.’

  Wendy leaned forward, towards the recording machine. ‘Okay, we’re pausing the interview there for a moment. Sir, can I have a quick chat outside, please?’

  Jack and Wendy left the room, and Jack paced the corridor outside, trying to massage the stress from his temples.

  ‘What the hell was that all about?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Don’t speak to superior officers like that, Knight. I don’t need your bullshit as well.’

  ‘As well as what? What’s going on?’

  Jack sighed. ‘Frank’s dead.’

  ‘What? How? When?’

  ‘Earlier tonight. He was found in a pool of blood in his cell. Slashed his wrists.’

  ‘Shit. Why the hell would he do that?’

  ‘I didn’t say he did.’

  ‘What, you think someone killed him? Who? Why?’

  ‘Can I fill you in on this a little later, perhaps? I’ve got more than enough to get my head around right now without having to go into all the details. Let’s just say things are about to kick off big time.’

  ‘Jesus. When did you find out?’

  ‘An hour ago, maybe a bit more. I went to see him recently. He wanted to testify against McCann. He said he had intel that could help bring him down. I looked into his eyes and I believed him. He was telling the truth. For fucking once.’

  ‘And you think McCann had him killed to stop him telling all?’

  ‘I can’t tell you what I think right now. I don’t even know myself. Fucking hell, it never rains but it pours.’

  ‘Look, we can take a few minutes to get our heads straight, then restart the interview later, alright?’

  ‘Whatever. Let’s just get it done. I don’t want that bastard wriggling on the hook any longer. Let’s at least get one bit of good news out of today.’

  The door to the interview room opened and Clive Blake’s solicitor stepped into the corridor, a sour look on his face.

  ‘You can fuck off as well,’ Jack said, not even looking at him. ‘I know I lost my rag, but you’ll have to deal with it.’

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector, if I could just—’

  ‘No, you can’t. We’ll restart the interview in a few minutes. And your client had better bloody well be willing to answer some questions.’

  ‘That’s what I came out to tell you,’ the solicitor said, looking utterly beaten. ‘Mr Blake just told me he’s ready to talk. In his words, he says he “can’t handle it anymore”. He wants to tell you everything.’

  50

  Clive Blake had a very different air about him when they stepped back into the interview room. The calm defiance had gone, replaced by a sense that this was a man who’d finally realised it was over. It was a transformation they’d seen many times before, but it never failed to have an impact.

  ‘You can do this in a pre-prepared written statement if you prefer,’ Wendy said. ‘We’ll need a statement anyway.’

  Clive shook his head. ‘No. Not yet. I want to talk first. Writing it down is too… cold. I want to be able to explain everything properly. I want you to see I’m sincere.’

  ‘Okay. We’re listening.’

  Clive swallowed and began to speak. ‘I’m not some sort of career criminal, okay? I’m guessing you already know that. All I am is a man desperate to protect his daughter. She’s got everything going for her, and all I’ve ever wanted is the best for her. I could see her throwing her life away, but there was no way of telling her that. She wasn’t listening. She’s so bright, so clever, so intelligent. She could have anything she wanted. She can go as far as she likes. But she was spending all her time hanging around with this… this criminal. What else can you call him? A drug dealer. I saw the impact it had on her. I watched her confidence disappear. Her pride. Her hopes and dreams. I tried speaking to her about it, of course I did. But she wasn’t having any of it. She kept saying he was going to change, but the only thing changing was her. It was getting worse.

  ‘I knew something had to be done. It was either him or her. There was no other way out. I can’t say it often enough — all I ever wanted was to protect my daughter. You need to believe me. I spent weeks agonising over it. Months, even. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about hiring a hitman, but I don’t know anything about that. I mean, where the hell do you start with something like that? You can’t just look them up on Google, can you? I knew it was going to cost money, though, so I started taking some out of the savings accounts and putting it to one side. I didn’t want to trip any alarms by drawing it all out at once, and I was pretty sure whoever did it wasn’t going to take payment by BACS.

  ‘Then an idea came to me. Matthew knew bad people, people who were more than happy to trade their consciences for money. And the more I thought about that, the more it made sense. I found Connor. I discovered through Jenny that he was Matthew’s best friend, and that he was involved in all this shady business. The thought came to me that I should approach Connor and persuade him to get rid of Matthew. By that point I had nearly twenty grand together in cash. I thought that’d be more than enough for a kid of his age. I mean, it’s a house deposit, isn’t it? I thought, that’ll be enough to get him out of the drugs game too. If it’s all about money, he’ll be able to set himself up for life, get a proper job and it’ll have the added benefit that Matthew would be out of Jenny’s life, too. It was the perfect plan.’

  Clive seemed to stop talking for a few moments, hanging his head with his chin against his chest as he processed his shame and tried to work out what to say next.

  ‘You can take all the time you want,’ Wendy said. ‘You’re doing really well and being very honest. We appreciate that. It’ll give everyone a lot of closure, too.’

  Clive shook his head. ‘No. No, you don’t get it. That’s not what happened at all. Not in the end. I just…’

  ‘It’s okay, Clive,’ Wendy said. ‘I can tell it’s a big thing for you. Would it help if we ran through what we know, and you can clarify things or let us know if we’ve got anything wrong?’

  Clive shrugged.

  ‘Okay,’ Wendy continued. ‘So let’s stick on the subject of the money for now. You mentioned twenty thousand pounds. We found twenty-five thousand in a storage unit registered to Connor French. Did all that money come from you, or was it just the twenty thousand?’

  ‘No, it was all from me.’

  ‘Okay. And did you give him that money before or after he killed Matthew? Was it half upfront, something like that?’

  Clive shook his head. ‘No. No, that’s not how it happened.’

  ‘It’s okay. Take your time. We just want to get to the bottom of things. The details help, believe me. It helps put things into context for loved ones, and it can even make things simpler when it comes to court. It makes it more human. That can help.’

  ‘It’s not about detail. We’re not onto detail yet. We’re nowhere near. You’ve got it all wrong.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Wendy asked, cocking her head.

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t give Connor the money so he’d kill Matthew. I gave him the money to keep quiet. So he wouldn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Tell anyone what, Clive?’

  ‘That I killed Matthew.’

  51

  It was as if a lightbulb had switched on in Wendy’s head. It all made sense now. Connor luring Matthew to the woods, coming out with clean clothes apart from a bit of mud on his trainers. He hadn’t had to do a thing. Not really. Just get Matthew there, keep quiet, and net twenty-five grand.

  But there were questions left unanswered. Why were Connor’s prints on the knife? How did it end up in the wheelie bin? Why did Connor agree to ke
ep Clive’s secret?

  ‘What happened, Clive?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘I knew I had to do something. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew it had to be me who did it. The more people who were involved, the more likely it was someone would spill the beans. I had to keep it to myself. I couldn’t have anyone else involved. I got Matthew’s number from Jenny’s phone. I bought a pay-as-you-go mobile. A burner, they call it. Topped it up with cash. And I contacted him. Told him I’d got his number from a friend and that I wanted to buy cannabis. We arranged to meet in the woods. At that point, I knew what I was going to do. I drove up there just as it was getting dark, and took a shovel, some tape, a change of clothes and a few other bits into the woods and put them somewhere I didn’t think they’d be found over the next few hours. Then it got towards ten o’clock. Jenny was working late, and my wife had already gone to bed. I told myself that if she woke up, couldn’t find me and rang me, I’d say I’d gone out for a walk or something. I didn’t have much time to think about it. It all happened so quickly. I had to just go for it.

  ‘I got dressed into a few scruffy old clothes I kept for decorating, put on a hat and some gloves and went over to the woods. I’d arranged to meet Matthew right next to where I’d hidden the shovel. I’d planned to catch him off guard, and hit him round the head with it as soon as he arrived. I didn’t want a conversation. I wanted it over with. But then I saw two of them. So I pulled my hat down a bit and hunched my shoulders and tried to deepen my voice, but I don’t think it was that convincing. We were talking for a minute or two, but I could tell they both knew something was up. I made eye contact with Connor at one point and I could see he recognised me. I think Matthew did, too, because he told Connor he should go back home.