THE GUILTY MAN an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detectives Lennox & Wilde Thrillers Book 1)

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  “I’ve spoken to Caroline and Nick’s brother, Craig. We have one or two leads which we’ll follow up today, sir.”

  “I want this wrapping up fast. We cannot have the Baxendale residents dying by the dozen. I want to know who sold that stuff to the Green woman, and I want an update later.”

  Harry made his way back to the main office. Three deaths including Kelsey Green. If they didn’t get on top of this quick, and that stuff was still circulating, there’d be no addicts left on the Baxendale. Or was it just certain addicts being targeted? The thought stopped him in his tracks. It was a wild idea, but could there be something in it? For now, he decided to file it away in his head under ‘possibilities’ and keep it to himself.

  “You okay?” Jess asked when he returned. “Rodders give you a roasting, or what?”

  “No, but he’s worried. This drugs thing on the Baxendale is serious. Cocaine cut with a generous helping of fentanyl.”

  “That’s what killed Kelsey?”

  “Yep, and two others besides. We’d better get off. Professor Steele is waiting for us.”

  * * *

  Harry didn’t say a word during the ride to the Reid. Why kill the punters? The question kept going round in his head. It didn’t make sense. Was it a mistake or was it like he’d thought, a deliberate act? But that still didn’t make sense. There was too much money to be made in dealing. Kelsey, for one, was a regular user. The whole thing made him uneasy.

  “Want to share?” Jess asked.

  “No. I’m still trying to add things up.”

  “What did Rodders want? Sutton or the drugs thing?”

  “A bit of both, Jess. The drug problem needs sorting or kids will be dropping like flies and there won’t be much we can do.”

  “Can’t we warn them? People have died, we have to do something. Get the press to help, do a TV appeal — anything for God’s sake!”

  “I’ll have a word with Rodders when we get back,” Harry said.

  Whether that would do any good was debatable. That was a lot of dope in Kelsey’s house, and Harry doubted she had the money to pay for it. Someone must have given her the stuff free. If that was the case, there had to be an ulterior motive. But what? Had Kelsey upset someone? Was it connected to her daughter’s disappearance? There were just too many questions and no answers.

  Professor Hector Steele was waiting for them in the main lab at the Reid Centre. A tall, skinny man with a hooked nose, red hair and a beard, he was a serious individual who didn’t talk about much other than his work. Hettie had told Harry that he was a keen fisherman. Harry couldn’t see it. All that sitting on a riverbank with nothing but sandwiches and a tin of maggots. Not what he envisaged someone like Steele doing in his spare time at all.

  “Kelsey Green was the third victim to be brought in from the Baxendale in the past week,” Steele told them. “Drugs were found at all three addresses. I’ve analysed what was left behind and in all instances the proportion of fentanyl to cocaine was the same. I don’t think this was a mistake — some newbie not knowing how to cut the stuff properly — I think it was deliberate.”

  “Uniform have been questioning the neighbours,” Harry confirmed. “One stated that Kelsey was desperate and had been given the drugs by a man she’d not seen before. We all know that isn’t how drug dealing goes. The stuff is sold, not doled out like sweets to anyone who asks. According to the neighbour, Kelsey had dozens of little packets stuffed in her pockets.”

  “Did the neighbour say anything else about this bloke who gave Kelsey the stuff?” Steele asked.

  “No. They don’t like talking to the police, do they? But we will ask again. When news of the deaths gets round, they might be more willing to tell us something,” Harry said.

  “A drugs war?” Jess said. “But if that’s the case, why give the stuff away?”

  “One of the two main players is dead,” Harry said. “And given the absence of anyone jumping into his shoes, end of war. That is if the hand did belong to Nick Sutton?” He looked enquiringly at Steele.

  “Yes, the prints confirm as much. We’re running DNA as there’s just a chance we might find a trace of whoever did that to him, but it’ll take a little longer.”

  “Any idea of when he was killed?” Jess asked.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions, we can’t be sure he’s dead. He could be being held somewhere, injured, bleeding and in pain. It all depends on whether the stump was attended to or not. As for when the hand was removed, it’s tricky to determine,” Steele said. “But there’s no evidence of the hand being kept in a freezer and decomposition is minimal, so not long.”

  Someone having a beef with Sutton was one thing, but did it have anything to do with the drugs? “Anything else?” Harry asked.

  “Don’t forget the hand had oil under the fingernails. It was old, dirty oil, the type you’d get in a garage or mechanic’s workshop.”

  Harry looked at Jess. “We’d better have a word with the Cassidy family, see what they have to say for themselves. Nick and Martha Cassidy had an argument, perhaps it got nasty. Martha does have a reputation.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Cassidy clan had a car repair workshop on the Baxendale, and at this time of day that’s where they were likely to find Martha. If not, they’d try her home. She didn’t live far away, in one of Sutton’s houses along with the rest of her brood, near Kelsey Green’s place. According to Caroline Sutton, Martha and Nick had had serious issues lately. It was time to find out what had actually gone on.

  “Martha Cassidy is a dangerous thug. Want me to organise backup?” Jess asked. “Half her family work in that place of theirs and all of them are huge strapping lads who’ll do her bidding without a second thought. I don’t know if you’ve met her, but she’s wild, doesn’t give a damn about the law.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Harry said.

  “I wasn’t thinking of you. You’re not in this on your own, you know. The idea is that we work together.” Why was Jess having to constantly remind him of this? “And I don’t fancy having Martha Cassidy punch me one. That woman has a short fuse where her family are concerned. Challenge them, even hint that you suspect them of something illegal and she’ll pounce. Ask DC Vance if you have any doubts. That bust nose and broken arm he was sporting a few months ago were down to her.”

  “So why isn’t she under lock and key?” Harry asked.

  “No witnesses, no cameras, nothing, just her word against that of Vance. She’s brought in and alleges police brutality because a mug of hot tea got spilled over her hand. Her brief had her out in record time with only a caution.”

  Perhaps she was right, and softly does it was the way to go. Harry had to admit he was inclined to be a bit gung-ho at times, but that was his style. “Anything suspicious, in fact any excuse at all, and we take them all in, get a warrant and have that place of theirs searched from top to bottom.”

  “She’ll kick off before that happens. Things will get nasty and we’ll be in danger while we wait for the troops to turn up.”

  “Don’t get so wound up. It’ll be fine. We’re CID, investigating a possible murder, Cassidy wouldn’t dare.”

  “I admire your confidence, but I can’t say I share it. I’ve just told you what Cassidy and that family of hers are like. You might be happy to take the risk but I’m not. I’m ringing it in, just in case.”

  “Just give me five minutes to speak to the woman and then we might think again. For now, serious face on,” Harry stated.

  The Cassidy workshop was in the middle of a row of lockups behind the shops on the Baxendale, in a confined concrete yard with one way in and out. Tall buildings on three sides with little in the way of overlooking windows made it the perfect place to get into big trouble with no witnesses. A fact which wasn’t lost on Jess.

  They got out of the car and negotiated their way towards the workshop entrance. There were four wrecked cars outside the doorway and the entrance was practically impassable because of
the engine parts strewn over the ground.

  “Watch yourselves!” someone bellowed from inside. “Scrap man’s due anytime so we’re having a sort out.”

  Jess’s heart sank. It was a woman speaking and could only be Martha Cassidy herself. Then she appeared, an overweight, heavy-featured woman dressed in oil-stained overalls, her grey hair scraped back in an untidy bun. On seeing the warrant card Harry flashed her way, she rolled up her sleeves and stood with folded arms, blocking the entrance. There was no way to get past her. Seeing her in person, it was obvious why she’d earned her fierce reputation for protecting her family. Her face was like thunder.

  Harry made sure she got a good look at the badge before he said politely, “If you’ve got a minute, we’d like a word, please.”

  Jess peered inside. In the gloomy interior, she could make out three shapes at the back, working on some vehicle. “Your Ryan here?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t work here anymore, so if it’s him you want, you’re wasting your time.”

  “Got another job, has he?” Harry asked, his tone conversational.

  “No idea. Does what he wants our Ryan. Me and his brothers are quite capable of running this place without him.”

  “We’d like a word about the argument you and Ryan had with Nick Sutton,” Harry said.

  The sound of that name seemed to throw Martha Cassidy into a rage. She was walking towards them carrying a heavy-looking wrench. About a metre from the pair, she passed a metal bench and brought it down hard, making Jess jump. The noise reverberated around the building.

  Cassidy shook the wrench in their faces. “What’re you saying? Come on, pretty boy, spit it out! What d’you think me and my Ryan’s done?”

  “We’d like a word, that’s all,” Jess said. “But if he’s not here, perhaps you can tell us what happened.” She tried to smile. “You’re not in any trouble, we just think you might be able to help.”

  “Me? Help you lot?” Cassidy sneered. “Bugger off and think yourselves lucky you can still walk.”

  “Come on, Martha, that’s not very nice,” Harry said. “We’re dealing with a case of serious assault, possibly murder, and your names have come up.”

  Martha thrust her face to within an inch of Harry’s. She was almost purple with rage and breathing fast. For one awful moment, Jess thought she was going to floor him. She glared at him. “Understand this, Mr Detective, me and my boys have done nothing wrong. We haven’t hurt anyone, got it? But we could if pushed. All we want is to run this business and keep our heads down, Ryan too these days. He’s a good lad, going up in the world. Got himself a nice new house and a girl on his arm.” Her rage seemed to lessen when she spoke of her son.

  “A quick word, that’s all. It’s about Nick Sutton,” Harry said.

  Martha’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he said? What lies is he spreading about us now?”

  “We think he might be dead, Martha,” Jess told her. “When did you see him last?”

  This took the wind out of her sails. She laid down the wrench. “Not since last week. We do some of the repairs on them cars they sell. We did a Jag which I took back to the showroom and he paid me.”

  “You didn’t argue?”

  “No, we barely spoke. We’d ’ad a few words the time before that — he thought the bill was too steep. But we sorted it, came to an agreement. Now piss off. You lot give my place a bad name.”

  Inside, the light came on under the ramp. The Cassidy brood were working on an expensive looking sports job. “Nice car,” Harry said. “You must have a good reputation for the owner to trust you with that.”

  Martha Cassidy turned her back and walked off, saying over her shoulder, “Last chance. I won’t tell you again.”

  Jess nudged Harry. “It’s time to go.”

  Harry had one last look and then took a quick photo with his mobile. He followed Jess out. He wanted to know who owned that car and what the Cassidys were doing with it.

  “It’s not a mystery, Harry,” Jess said. “It’ll be another one from the Sutton showroom.”

  Nonetheless, from the relative safety of their own car, he rang the station and got Angela, the office admin assistant, to check who it was registered to. The response made him smile.

  “The car’s Nick Sutton’s, not one of those for sale. Now, what’s Martha Cassidy doing with a dead man’s car?”

  “We don’t know for sure that he’s dead. This lot fix cars for the Suttons’ business, so it follows they’ll do the family cars too. We have no excuse to search the place.”

  He nodded at the workshop. “Not yet, but I want to sneak a look at that car.”

  “Harry, be careful, you know what that family are like.”

  “This is a murder investigation, no one is going to stand in our way.”

  “Okay, point taken, but don’t wind Martha up. You could get seriously hurt in the argument that follows.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Surprisingly, Martha Cassidy didn’t put up much of an argument.

  “That car’s here for a service and it’s all above board,” she told Harry. She went over to a phone on the wall of the workshop, a smug expression on her face. “I’ll ring the Sutton house, and if one of them says it’s okay for you to look it over, I won’t stand in your way. You can search all you like but you’ll find nowt.”

  The two detectives waited for the okay, confident that Caroline would not object. Moments later, Martha reappeared. “One of the boys will get it off the ramp for you. Fill your boots, copper, but be quick about it.”

  “Why d’you reckon the Suttons use this place for their car repairs?” Jess muttered to Harry when they were out of earshot. “They have large, expensive showrooms. Somehow a backstreet workshop on a rough estate doesn’t fit the picture.”

  “Doesn’t, does it? They’re up to something.”

  “Who, this lot or the Suttons?” she asked.

  “Both, who knows, but we’re going to find out.”

  One of Martha’s sons parked the car in the yard for them.

  “We’ll see if Angela can help with an address for Ryan. We could do with a word with him,” Harry said. “We’ll take a look at the car and then if Angela comes up with the goods, we’ll pay him a visit next.”

  “We have no evidence to suggest that Ryan Cassidy or any of his family is involved in what’s happened to Sutton,” Jess said.

  “They do jobs for the Suttons and there was engine oil under the fingernails of that hand. That’ll do for now.”

  Jess was first to climb into the car and rummage around. “It’s very tidy. There’s nothing in the glove box but I did find this on the dash.” She handed Harry a business card.

  “Sean Pickford, private investigator. I wonder why Nick needed a PI.”

  “We’ll have to go and ask Mr Pickford, won’t we?” Jess said.

  “Hang on, where have I heard that name? I wonder if he’s related to that PA of Caroline’s,” Harry said.

  “We’ll keep it in mind. Anything else?”

  “I’ll have a quick look in the boot, and we’re done.”

  The boot was empty except for the spare tyre and a jack, wrapped in a cloth and obviously never used.

  “It’s just a thought but a sample of the oil they use here might be useful. Forensics could compare it with what they got from the hand,” Jess said.

  Harry took a breath. How would Martha react to that? “All right, I’ll give it a go. You wait here. I won’t be a minute.”

  He took a pair of gloves, a couple of small containers and a swab from the boot of their car and went to have another word with Martha.

  “Can I take a couple of samples of your oil?” he asked.

  “What the ’ell for?”

  Harry smiled. “Just for elimination purposes.”

  She thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Help yourself and then get lost. You lot are becoming a bloody nuisance. We’ve got work to do.”r />
  She watched as Harry put on a pair of nitrile gloves and took a swab from an oily patch on the floor. Next, he helped himself to a sample from a container on a shelf.

  “All done,” he said.

  “Nasty scars on your ’ands,” Martha noted. “What happened to you?”

  She actually sounded sympathetic. Maybe Martha had the proverbial heart of gold under that hard exterior. “I got injured in a fire a few years ago,” he said, showing her his fingers. “I damaged these hauling someone away from the flames. I’m lucky I’ve still got the use of them. They might not look pretty but that’s just the skin grafts.”

  “Brave lad. Plenty would have given up the force, grabbed some compensation and taken early retirement or summat,” she said.

  “Not me, Martha. Love the job too much. The moment I was declared fit for duty, I was back at it again.” He gave her another smile, time to strike while she was still feeling sorry for him. “Your Ryan. Will you tell me where he lives?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “What d’you want him for? Like I said, he’s changed. Ryan’s done nowt.”

  “Please, Martha, it’ll make my job easier if you just tell me.”

  “Okay, but don’t let on you got it from me. Orchard Avenue, number ten, off the estate and through the town, back of the park.”

  The charm had worked again. “Thanks, Martha.”

  He returned to the car and put the samples safely in the glovebox. “She’s a strange one. Okay one minute and ready to stove your head in the next.”

  “What was she saying to you then?” Jess asked.

  “She noticed my hands, wondered what had happened.”

  “I’ve often wondered that myself, but you’ve never said much, only that it was an accident.”

  “Which it was, and I saved the day. There’s no mystery.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Orchard Avenue was close to the house Jess was interested in. Her blue eyes travelled speculatively over the passing streets. “What’s one of the Cassidys doing round here?” she asked. “Sort of takes the gloss off the area.”