Tug Of Law (Bernadette Mackenna Cases Book 4)

by D. R. Bailey

  ✽✽✽

  They arrived at the office in a short space of time having both sung lustily to the songs on the radio. Their house was a very short distance away from the office. This was a bone of contention between Bernadette and Andrew who complained about her having such a large car, and also driving such a short distance to the office. Bernadette laughed it off and it had become just another piece of banter.

  Juanita looked up and saw Eve. She smiled at her. Eve seemed to bring out the best in people, Bernadette mused. She had a calming effect, almost like an aura. Of course, by now Bernadette had also seen the other side of Eve. The angry bitch she could become. In a way, Bernadette was glad, she was nowhere near perfect herself, and Eve had appeared so at first. In reality, Eve was as human as anyone, and certainly had her triggers.

  “Hi, Eve, how are you?” said Juanita standing up.

  “Oh, I’m fine, honey.” Eve leaned over the counter and did air kisses.

  “Good, good, so nice to see you two. Such a lovely couple.”

  Bernadette couldn’t tell if this was meant sincerely or with a tinge of sarcasm. However, Juanita didn’t seem to have a sarcastic bone in her body, and if she did it was so subtle it would be hard to recognise it. Bernadette let it pass and took it at face value.

  “Thank you, Juanita. You are looking lovely yourself.”

  “Do you think so?” said Juanita turning this way and that, fluttering her eyelashes, “I have this new outfit, is it OK?”

  The outfit in question was a skin-tight faux leather dress and along with the push-up bra she was wearing it emphasised all of her assets. Juanita also often wore what Imogen insisted on designating “Stripper Shoes” which were platformed and very high heeled sandals or mules. This was in spite of the fact that Imogen possessed several pairs like it herself at D’Arcy’s and wore them in the bedroom, along with several other ensembles which could put Juanita’s one to shame.

  “Oh, for sure, if I wasn’t married, I’d be asking you out myself,” said Eve with a wink.

  “Oh, you are funny, Eve… so funny,” said Juanita laughing. She sat back down and picked up her magazine.

  “Don’t forget my car, darling,” said Bernadette putting the keys on the counter, “We are going out soon though.”

  “Sure, sure,” said Juanita in dismissive tones without looking round. Bernadette was left feeling she wasn’t quite in the same league as her fiancée as far as Juanita was concerned.

  In the kitchen and small dining area, Bernadette made them both a coffee from the machine. The kitchen was long and thin leading out to the back terrace. It had green scallop fronted lacquered units and a couple of tables by a large window opposite where people could sit if they wanted.

  “You’ve got a fan there,” said Bernadette with a sardonic smile, “None of us get that sort of treatment.”

  “Maybe she just fancies me,” Eve giggled.

  “Stop it, she’s not even gay!” said Bernadette with mock disapproval, “It’s probably because you are nice to her and you don’t work here so you’re not going to ask her to do anything.”

  Work and Juanita were mutually exclusive things. However, Andrew would not hear of her removal on account of her having a sick mother to support in Spain. Bernadette wondered if the sick mother was a real thing, but Andrew insisted it was and that he had seen pictures. Bernadette let it rest, it gave her an extra bargaining chip when she wanted something.

  They went upstairs and had only just settled down with Bernadette at her desk and Eve on the sofa, when Imogen walked in.

  “Oh! Eve! I had forgotten you were coming, how lovely to see you.”

  Eve jumped up at once and embraced her with great affection. They kissed lightly on the lips.

  “Oh my God, I can see why D’Arcy loves your lips,” said Eve with a saucy smile.

  “Put her down, honey,” said Bernadette her eyes twinkling.

  “Or what!” Eve shot back.

  “You know what…”

  “Oh ho!” Imogen chuckled, “Playing that game are we.” She was very quick to pick up on these nuances.

  “I might be,” Eve admitted.

  “She is and that’s going on the list,” said Bernadette firmly.

  “Shibari?” Imogen wanted to know.

  “If she carries on like this, yes!”

  Imogen just laughed.

  “And how was your evening?” said Eve with great interest. Bernadette had filled her in on Imogen’s intentions, as she always did.

  “Oh well.” Imogen led Eve to the sofa and the two of them sat down. Imogen took a sip of her coffee.

  “Did you do what you said you’d do?” Bernadette enquired.

  “I did,” said Imogen.

  “Come on, I want all the details!” Eve said at once.

  “Oh you!” Bernadette laughed.

  “What? I do, spill the beans, darling.”

  “OK, so I apologised to D’Arcy like I said I would…” Imogen began.

  “I said details,” Eve cut in.

  Imogen flicked a glance at Bernadette.

  “What can I say, she likes things spelt out.” Bernadette shrugged.

  “Fine.” Imogen knew what she was like, and there really were no secrets between the three of them. “I got home, and we had dinner, it was lovely Beef Stroganoff…”

  “Oh, don’t…” Bernadette said, her mouth starting to water, “My favourite.”

  “Yes, her chef made it but anyway, afterwards I asked her to come to the bedroom. Now when I got there, the paddle was sitting on the bed, where I normally leave it as a signal to D’Arcy…”

  “Oh God,” Eve exclaimed, she had an expression of bright-eyed anticipation at this, Bernadette noticed.

  “I wasn’t planning to use it though. So, I just ignored it and I stripped off. She said, ‘what are you doing?’ and I said, ‘This’, I got down on my knees in front of her. Then I told her how much of a jealous bitch I am, and how sorry I am for being like that. Then I bent right forward in supplication almost… can you imagine me doing that? But I did… and I literally begged her to please forgive me.”

  “Wow,” said Bernadette.

  “I know someone who did something similar to me once,” said Eve looking at her fiancée.

  “Yes, Bernadette told me,” said Imogen.

  “Sure, I might have guessed,” Eve said wryly.

  “What did D’Arcy do?” Bernadette wanted to know.

  “She burst into tears, knelt down and held me, kissing me and saying I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She said nobody had ever done such a wonderful and kind thing before. Then we kissed, and well, you can imagine what happened then.”

  “So, no paddling?” Eve said sounding disappointed.

  “Not this time no, she was very loving and giving, caring. I just couldn’t, it would not have been right, even if she wanted it,” said Imogen.

  “I’m proud of you, really I am, you did well,” Bernadette told her.

  “I get a gold star?” Imogen’s eyes twinkle.

  “Oh at least five for that,” Bernadette laughed.

  “I don’t get gold stars,” Eve said with a mock pout.

  “That’s because your gold star card is already full,” her fiancée shot back.

  “Good answer,” Eve chuckled.

  “Is D’Arcy coming out today?” Bernadette asked Imogen.

  “Oh, yes. She wanted to come to this depot, but I said no, absolutely not. Afterwards, though, she’s taking us to Chapter One.”

  “Oh, I love that!” said Eve excitedly.

  Chapter One was an exclusive restaurant in a basement in Parnell Square. D’Arcy ate there quite often because the staff knew her well and they were very discreet. It was also extremely expensive, but Bernadette had long since dropped any scruples since D’Arcy would do what she wanted, and she could certainly afford it.

  “Wow, look at you, who’s a
ll material girl now? You used to be quite the hippy,” said Bernadette with an indulgent smile.

  “You’ve taught me different, and now I’m an artist!” Eve replied.

  “Aren’t they bohemian though?” Imogen put in.

  “Not this one, not anymore,” Bernadette laughed.

  “You told me to go shopping, buy nice things.” Eve pouted.

  “I did and I love you for it, I’m just teasing.”

  “Right, well,” said Imogen finishing her coffee looking from one to the other, “I’ll get on with my preps for Friday, and we can go to the depot in about an hour if that’s OK?”

  “Sure, go for it, Eve is going to draw,” Bernadette replied.

  “Just draw?” Eve enquired as Imogen left the room.

  “For the moment, yes, I’ve got work to do,” Bernadette said firmly.

  “But there’s a whole hour…”

  “For you to draw!”

  “OK,” said Eve meekly, “But I might misbehave later.”

  “I’m sure you will and that’s OK.” Bernadette smiled and turned to her computer.

  ✽✽✽

  Balik Transport was situated in the docklands of Dublin. The yard seemed vast to Bernadette as they drove in through the gates. It was surrounded by a low metal fence with spike tops turned outwards. A rather understated sign declared the premise to be those of the company. On the right-hand side, there were parking spaces and a prefab building which appeared to be the company offices. In the yard were many trucks, cabs and trailers. At the back of the yard was another much larger prefabricated warehouse where no doubt the trucks were loaded and unloaded. There were bays and dark openings into the building. A few people wandered around the yard, but it appeared not to be very busy. She parked her Audi outside the front of the offices next to several other cars.

  “This is it,” said Bernadette as she turned off the ignition.

  “What are we going to say?” Imogen wondered.

  “We can be straight up front, no need to prevaricate, let’s see where it gets us.”

  “OK, you’re the boss,” said Imogen.

  “She certainly is.” Eve gave a light laugh.

  “Enough from both of you,” said Bernadette with mock severity, “Let’s go.”

  “So assertive,” Imogen laughed.

  “God, she is, you have no idea,” Eve giggled.

  “You two, honestly!”

  They left the car and Bernadette locked it. There were steps up onto a deck and then inside there was what appeared to be a reception counter. As they walked in, a woman behind the counter eyed them suspiciously. She was of average height, blue eyes, short black hair, wearing a hoodie.

  “Hello, can I help?” she asked them as they approached the counter. Bernadette could not imagine anyone looking less like a person who wanted to assist.

  “Hi, erm, we’re lawyers, is there someone we could talk to? We are seeking information, to do with a case,” said Bernadette.

  “Oh? Well, I dunno. Who are you exactly?”

  “Lawyers,” Bernadette repeated.

  “Have you some form of identification, a card?”

  Bernadette was about to fish into her jacket pocket for a card, albeit reluctantly, when a man appeared behind the counter. He was wearing what appeared to be an expensive suit, coupled with a blue polo neck jumper. He had black hair, and from his complexion looked as if he was a mixture of European and Middle Eastern origin.

  “Cherry, who are these people?” he asked the girl. She turned around and regarded him with slightly wary eyes. His accent sounded a little like Turkish or Greek.

  “They said they are lawyers.” She shrugged.

  He turned to Bernadette. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  The tone was aggressive, and a little intimidating. Bernadette was glad she had Eve at her back.

  “I’m a lawyer and these are my associates. I’m working on a case and I wondered if you could help.”

  He regarded her steadily for a moment. Then broke out into what seemed quite fake looking smile which did not reach his eyes. “Ah, I know you, you are that lady lawyer, huh, you defended that actress, I think, yes?”

  “Yes, I did, you’re right.”

  “Mack… Mackenna is it?” he said smiling which reminded Bernadette slightly of a crocodile.

  “That’s right, Bernadette Mackenna, and you are?” she replied, as there was no point in hiding it now.

  “Yes, yes, I thought so,” he said coming out from behind the counter, “Come this way, we can talk in here. I’m Omer Dermici, I am the owner.”

  He indicated a windowed room with a table and chairs to their left, it was devoid of furniture otherwise.

  “OK.”

  The three of them went and sat around the table He took a seat himself. Bernadette deliberately did not introduce the others. He didn’t ask, knowing her name was enough if he wanted to find out more. Eve sat next to her, pressing her knee against Bernadette’s, which was comforting, and Imogen sat at her other side.

  “What is this all about?”

  Bernadette had been thinking quickly while all this was happening, as to what her line of questioning should be. She would have to wing it and see where it went.

  “You do business with Jenkins Hauliers? Your depot takes their trucks, am I right?” said Bernadette.

  “I deal with many companies,” he said offhandedly. He waved a well-manicured tanned hand which had a heavy gold signet ring, and flashy gold bracelet on his wrist.

  “Yes, but specifically, Jenkins Hauliers is what I am asking about,” she batted it back.

  “So?” He smiled sardonically almost goading her to try and get him to answer anything.

  “A truck was picked up from here containing illegal aliens, which were discovered in the UK.” There seemed no point in beating about the bush.

  “Really?” He looked blank.

  “It’s been on the news, surely you couldn’t have missed it?” She smiled.

  “I don’t watch the news really.” He shrugged.

  “The client we represent is the subject of extradition proceedings, he picked up the truck from here,” she continued.

  “Trucks come and they go. They use our depot to keep them while they change drivers, we are a handover place mainly. We don’t know anything about what is in the trucks.”

  His answers were bland and certainly not believable.

  “So, you don’t load anything on here?”

  “No, not at all.” His eyes belied his words, he was looking defensive, guarded even.

  “You’ve a got a big place here though,” she said conversationally, “A large building over there, I mean like some sort of warehouse is it?”

  “It’s just for maintenance, stuff like that, we don’t keep goods there,” he shot back picking up her implications.

  “OK, so what you’re saying is that the trucks come here, sealed by customs? Then you don’t touch them at all, until they are taken away again.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Amazing business you have then, I mean, it must make you a lot of money for not very much work.” It was slightly acidic and risky, but she was pushing him just a little.

  “We fix trucks, stuff like this, we offer space. In case you hadn’t noticed space is at a premium in Dublin, so people are willing to pay for it.” The answer was a little pat and too smooth.

  “So, you wouldn’t mind showing us where the truck might be parked while it was waiting?” she said innocently.

  “Why? You can see the yard from here, there’s nothing to it.”

  “Yes, but if we knew the approximate position we could tell if maybe someone could have opened the truck at night, from outside, perhaps, put the illegals in?” she offered by way of explanation.

  “Pah, it would never happen. We have CCTV, at night there are dogs, security, nobody can get in here without us finding out.”


  “And what would you do if you found out?”

  He just laughed, but it wasn’t a nice laugh. Bernadette guessed he wasn’t calling the Garda.

  “OK, but even so, couldn’t you show us where it might have been positioned?” she persisted.

  “No, I can’t, for one thing, I’ve no idea, we have hundreds of trucks coming in and out, how the fuck should I know where one of them was parked.” His voice was a little sharper as if he was rattled.

  Imogen smiled to herself. Bernadette could have that effect on people. Even without seeming to do so, she was capable of getting to them.

  “OK, well, it was just a question.” She smiled.

  “Yes, well, unless you have something else, you will have to search for answers for Callum Jenkins somewhere else,” he said sounding annoyed.

  Imogen, Eve and Bernadette exchanged glances. This was a slip up on his part.

  “I didn’t tell you my client’s name. How did you know?”

  The question hung there while he registered his fuck up.

  “I… saw it on the news,” he said without thinking.

  “The news you never watch…”

  Her tone had moved a little more into one she used when pinning a witness down on the stand, it was perhaps a little rash, but she couldn’t help it.

  His expression became dark. “It’s time for you to go. There’s nothing for you here.”

  “Oh? Are you sure you don’t know Callum Jenkins after all?” It was a goad and Eve nudged her. The man looked very much on edge.

  As if by magic two more men appeared in the room. They weren’t looking friendly. One was a wiry individual with curly hair, and a nasty scowl. The other was built something like a brick shithouse, Bernadette mused, and had the classic bald head tattoos look just like the old clichés in the movies.

  “Like I said, it’s time for you to go,” he said with a hint of steel in his voice, “I don’t know anyone called Callum Jenkins and I’ve told you everything I can.”

  “OK.” Bernadette held out her hands in mock surrender. “Thank you, we won’t take any more of your valuable time.”