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

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  “I don’t see this being down to Ryan, the lad hasn’t got the brains for it. But we’ll bring him in anyway, see how he reacts to what we’ve got,” Harry said.

  “I’m doing a little research and I’ve come up with something interesting. The lethal drugs were sold to people living in three of the houses belonging to Sutton. Someone clearing the way, I wonder?” Jess said.

  “What for?” Harry asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, “but wouldn’t you say that someone wants those houses? Kill off the occupants and that becomes much easier. And don’t forget, Ryan Cassidy knows the area and the people living in those houses very well. What about the other two that Sutton owned?”

  “One is a known drugs den,” he said, “officially empty but in fact it’s used as a place to doss down for the night, and the other was officially empty but is likely being used by the homeless. It might be useful to know if anyone dossing down in those two houses has been threatened, told to leave. Perhaps they could give us a description.”

  “Everyone round here knows the Cassidys, so no need. The problem is, will they be prepared to shop them to us?” Jess said.

  Harry nodded but he wasn’t really listening. He’d had an idea. “That oil found on Sutton’s hand, it could have come from a lorry. The rough ground of that parking area was covered in the stuff, that and diesel.”

  “You’re right,” Jess said. “We should get Hettie to run more tests.”

  “Meanwhile, we need to pay that visit to Ryan.”

  “I’ll get my jacket,” Jess said.

  As they were leaving, a uniformed PC stopped them on the stairs. “We’ve got a problem, sir. There’s a riot cracking off on the Baxendale. It looks like it’s centred on a house near to where Kelsey Green lived.”

  Jess checked the addresses they had for the Sutton properties and showed him. “Is it one of these?”

  “Yes, number seventeen, the one being used as a drugs den, and it’s looking as if it’s starting to get nasty.”

  Harry looked at Jess. “What d’you reckon? Irate users and no supply?”

  “If we don’t step in, sir, someone could get killed,” the PC said.

  “Do we know who is responsible?” Harry asked.

  “The new landlords want them out, a firm called Lancashire Holdings. They have people there now, breaking down the door and frightening the natives to death.”

  Harry looked at Jess. “Busy bunch, this firm, aren’t they? Okay, Constable, we’ll assemble a team and get round there.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The PC hadn’t been joking when he called it a riot. The problem was, the rioters were the neighbouring residents. It turned out that bailiffs were the ones doing the evictions at the house, so it was all legal and above board. Whoever they found currently living in or using number seventeen had to leave today. The original tenants had long since gone but notice of the repossession had been sent to the property, purporting to be because of unpaid rent.

  “How long before it’s us they’re throwing onto the streets?” a man yelled at them. “I don’t like that lazy lot any better than you, but we’ll be next. Bloody company wants the whole estate.”

  Harry spoke to one of the PCs. “Have a word with him. Find out exactly what he means and if he’s been approached by anyone.”

  Several dishevelled-looking blokes were standing about on the pavement holding sleeping bags and duvets. Harry presumed these were the homeless who’d just been turfed out. One was screaming at the bailiffs and throwing stones. But there were still others inside, and they were refusing to leave.

  “They’ve nowhere to go,” Jess said. “Dossing down in that hole is obviously preferable to a night on the streets, particularly when it’s pouring with rain.”

  “We can’t fix everything, Jessie,” Harry said. “They’ll have to take pot luck with the council.” He pointed to a young man with a haversack on his back, dressed in weatherproof jacket and trousers. “He doesn’t look like he belongs. Think I’ll have a word. I don’t recognise him, do you?”

  “Not one of the regulars,” she said. “Perhaps he’s new to the area.”

  Harry went across to the young man. “Scary stuff, but the bailiffs have the law on their side. You got somewhere to go?”

  “Yep. I’ll doss down at a mate’s. Shame, I was hoping to hang around for a few nights.”

  “These houses have been bought. No doubt they’ll be done up and sold off at a huge profit,” Jess said, joining them. “Has anyone from the new owners ever visited?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. All I know is that several houses around here have been bought by some firm and they don’t want us hanging around,” the young man said.

  “Was that company called Lancashire Holdings by any chance?” she asked him.

  “No idea. Look, all I did was bed down here a couple of nights. It was never my intention to hang around.”

  Harry was looking at the repossession paperwork that he’d got from the bailiffs. It bothered him that three residents of the five houses once owned by Sutton were dead, Kelsey Green being one of them.

  “We know about the dealing that goes on round here. We don’t like it, but until recently it hadn’t killed anyone. Did you know Kelsey?” he asked the young man. “She lived over there.”

  “Kept myself to myself, safest way I find. Look, I’ll have to go if I’m to make it to my mate’s tonight. Hope you get it sorted.”

  Jess and Harry watched him walk away. “He definitely doesn’t fit in round here. Wrong accent for a start,” Jess said. “Bet you’re relieved it’s not Scottish. More Europe somewhere, I’d say.”

  Their conversation was cut short by one of the Cassidy boys — Caleb, the youngest. He had been trying to protect one of his mates, who was staggering out through the doorway of number seventeen obviously off his head on something. “They’ve no right, messing with the area like this,” Caleb said angrily. “I’ve a good mind to sort a couple of them. Let ’em know they can’t push us around.”

  “Keep out of it,” Harry said. “Get lippy or use those fists of yours and you’ll end up at the station.”

  “You’re better off going home,” Jess shouted to him above the clamour. “This is getting nasty and any minute now, the police will be making arrests.”

  Harry had his hands over his ears. The screaming and shouting had got louder, but it was the sound of fireworks going off nearby that was doing his head in.

  Caleb Cassidy was about to dive back into the fray when Jess grabbed hold of his hoodie. “You know folk around here. What about the lad we were just talking to a few minutes ago?”

  “Zeno? He’s harmless but he does know the dude who’s been dealing that wrong stuff. Giving it away for the most part.”

  “You mean the stuff that killed Kelsey?” Caleb nodded. “Are you sure about that, Caleb? Do you have any proof?”

  Harry darted off after Zeno. Find him and he could help, but the streetlights were out and it was pitch black. There was no way he could catch him now. He might have gone anywhere.

  “His mate gave me some of those little packets he was dishing out,” Caleb told Jess. “But I didn’t take any. My mum would have had a fit if I’d gone home drugged up.”

  “What did you do with them?” Harry asked, having failed to catch up with the Zeno character.

  Caleb Cassidy stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and pulled out about ten small plastic bags. “Here, you ’ave ’em. They’re no use to me.”

  Harry put them in an evidence bag. He’d get Hettie to check if it was the same mix that had killed Kelsey.

  “D’you know who made this stuff?” Harry asked him.

  “Foreign bloke, big brute of a man. He dossed down in one of the houses for a while, but I think he’s shacked up somewhere else now.”

  “Zeno, you said. Odd name. D’you know what his mate was called, Caleb?” Jess asked.

  The lad was edgy, reluctant to say more. “Look, I’ve g
ot to get back in there, my mate’s in a bad way. He’s got a beat-up leg and can hardly walk.”

  “You promise to come down to the station tomorrow and we’ll get you and your mate a lift home. I want you to tell us everything you know about that Zeno person and the man who gave the drugs to Kelsey.”

  Caleb nodded. “All right. But I don’t know much. He just turned up one day and started dishing out the dope like it were sweets. Didn’t want no money either.”

  “Okay, Caleb, you’re off the hook for now. But if you remember anything else about him, you contact me,” Jess told him. “When you’ve got your mate, the PC over there will take you home.”

  “We should bring in Ryan before it gets too late. They planned to go away, remember,” Harry said. “We’ll get round there, take him down to the station. He can answer our questions under caution.”

  * * *

  Harry and Jess left the police and bailiffs to it. Once they were in the relative quiet of the car, Harry rang the station and alerted them to the lad Zeno. He gave a brief description and instructed uniform to bring him in if he was spotted. They drove away.

  “I wouldn’t have thought Ryan Cassidy had the brains to put together a complex operation like this. If it is him, he’s managed to rid the area of two villains, taken over their property and who knows what else.”

  “Ryan is the only director of Lancashire Holdings,” Jess said. “It’s all there, in the public domain for anyone to see.”

  “I’ll interview him with a PC. Meanwhile, I want you to find out about that Zeno bloke. Search the system, see if you can find a likely candidate. There can’t be many villains with that name.”

  “Harry, you do realise that if Ryan is involved then he must know Zeno and his mate. They could have cleared the way. D’you think it’s possible that they did all the dirty stuff and Ryan is the acceptable face?”

  “But we don’t know that Ryan had anything to do with the killings,” Harry said.

  “For his sake, I hope that’s how it is.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Ryan Cassidy was not happy about being dragged down to the station. “You know me and Adele are about to fly off. I miss that plane and she’ll bloody kill me.”

  “You’ve got some explaining to do first, Ryan. For starters, you can tell me about Lancashire Holdings.”

  Harry sat back and watched Ryan’s reaction. The young man was either genuinely puzzled or a bloody good actor. He certainly didn’t look like someone who’d just been found out.

  Ryan looked round at the solicitor, who was making notes. “What’s he on about?” he asked. “I’ve never heard of these holdings. This is all new to me, Copper.”

  “Ryan, you know what Companies House is?” Harry asked.

  Ryan nodded. “Yeah. It’s for when you get limited and the like.”

  “They list all the companies in the UK, along with the names of their directors. Lancashire Holdings is cited as having one director — you, Ryan.” Harry paused, waiting for a reaction.

  “Sorry, mate, but I don’t understand. I’ve never heard of them,” Ryan said.

  “Which is a shame because I was hoping you could tell me what their business is, and how many people they employ.”

  “Are you off your ’ead or what? I’m not a director of anything. True, me and Adele have thought about starting something of our own. I’ve spoken to Craig Sutton about buying into his car showroom business, but that’s it.”

  “The family car repair business not good enough for you?” Harry asked.

  “I’ve wanted out since the day I first set foot in that workshop at sixteen,” Ryan said. “Problem is, cars are all I know, though according to Craig, I don’t look half bad in a suit.” He grinned. “My ma works us into the ground. She never lets up. If I don’t get out, I’ll go mad.”

  “So, you set up Lancashire Holdings?”

  “No,” Ryan said. “I’ve told you. I don’t know anything about that. I’m a practical type, I fix stuff, I’m good with my hands. I don’t know owt about setting up no limited company.”

  Seeing Ryan’s obvious confusion, Harry believed him. Ryan had probably been set up. He was the perfect target, from the perfect family — all well-known troublemakers from the Baxendale.

  “We’ll have to investigate more, but if we find no evidence that you’re involved, you’ll be off the hook,” Harry said.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, Ryan made to stand up.

  Harry held up his hand. “Not so fast. What d’you know about the drug dealing on the Baxendale and the houses being bought up?”

  “It’s not down to me, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Ryan said indignantly.

  Harry leaned back and folded his arms. “We know it’s down to Lancashire Holdings and possibly a mate of a young man called Zeno. Know him?”

  “Look, I know nothing about drugs, and as for the houses, the last places I’d want to buy was ones on that rundown hellhole. You’d be better off asking our Caleb, he hangs out down the Baxendale. He knows the dealers, the regulars I mean. I did hear that there’s been someone new recently. That might be this Zeno you’re on about. Caleb didn’t trust him. Said he was right dodgy, far too nicely dressed for a dealer.”

  Harry nodded. Maybe he could tease more out of Ryan before he let him go. “He told me about Zeno. Have you met him?”

  “No. Since I left ma’s I don’t get to the Baxendale. Adele don’t like the place.”

  “Has Caleb ever rung him? Met up with him, perhaps in a special place?”

  “I doubt it. Caleb’s not into owt like that.”

  “Someone is, and everywhere I turn your name pops up, Ryan. I don’t want to believe you’re involved, so that means someone out there thinks you’re easy to frame. Any ideas?”

  “No. Look, I just want to go home.”

  “I’m investigating two murders and three overdoses that are down to someone on the Baxendale giving them cocaine cut with fentanyl. Know anything about that?” Harry said.

  “No. I’m not a druggie and I don’t mix with any. You know what that place is. It could be down to anyone, but it has nothing to do with me.” Ryan glanced up at the clock. “Can I go home now?”

  It was late. Harry wouldn’t mind getting off himself, and he could murder a beer. “Okay. But you surrender your passport. I don’t want you leaving the country until this little lot is sorted. The PC here will give you a lift home and you’ll hand it over to him. Got it?”

  “So, no holiday?”

  “No, tell Adele she’ll have to wait.” A sudden thought occurred to Harry. “The money. A win on the horses Adele said. Which bookies?”

  Ryan leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “You’ll find out anyway, I suppose. I didn’t win that money. It was left on my doorstep a week ago.”

  “How much?”

  “Ten grand.”

  “And you didn’t wonder where it had come from?” Harry said.

  Ryan brought his head up sharply. “No, I bloody didn’t! It was just the boost me and Adele needed. I stuck it in the bank, no questions asked.”

  Harry studied the young man. “Was there a note with the money?”

  “No, and it was in mixed used notes in an old brown envelope.”

  “D’you still have it, the envelope I mean?”

  “Adele stuck it in the bin.”

  “Right, Ryan. This is what’s going to happen. A PC will take you home, and a forensic team will salvage that envelope. How often is the bin emptied?”

  “It’s the paper and cardboard one, so not until next week.”

  “You can’t keep that money either. It’s the proceeds of a crime and will have to be confiscated,” Harry said.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Day Six

  Harry put his hands to his ears and groaned. It was early, barely light, but the din was loud enough to wake the dead. Someone was banging on the camper van door so hard they were in danger of punching a hole through it.
/>
  “Laddie, let me in!”

  At the sound of the familiar voice, Harry’s eyes opened wide. For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming, but a crafty peek through the blinds confirmed that Sandy was real. His immediate reaction was panic. He had a desperate urge to hide. What was Sandy doing here? And why hadn’t he phoned first? Harry was totally unprepared for this. Where would he put him for starters, and what to tell his old friend about his current situation?

  More banging and shouting. Sandy wasn’t about to give up. Grabbing his dressing gown, Harry got out of bed and yanked open the door.

  “You took your time,” Sandy said. “Let an old man in out of the cold, would ye, and get me a hot drink.”

  “Sandy, you should have said you were coming, I’d have . . .”

  Sandy Munro looked around him. “What? Had a go at cleaning this midden?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Harry said feebly.

  “It’s a mess, and so are you from what I hear.”

  Harry could do without this right now. “What d’you mean? Who’s been telling tales?”

  “That young woman, your sergeant, had a word with Laing. Wanted to know about you and your work in Glasgow. I reckon he told her more than he should have. Mentioned our mutual friend, not that she recognised the name, and that started the tittle-tattle again. People at your old station are still asking the same old questions and coming up with the same old theories.”

  Harry sat down hard on the bed. Why couldn’t his past stay that way — in the past, safely back in Glasgow? Folk back home could gossip all they wanted but Jess was another matter. He didn’t want her knowing about Salton. That would really open the floodgates. She’d never let up. Jess would want to know things about him he wasn’t ready to share. “She hasn’t mentioned it. Mind you, we’ve been a bit busy.”

  “Am I getting that tea or what?”

  Harry scratched his head. “Give me ten to get cleaned up and dressed and I’ll take you for breakfast. Have you got somewhere to stay?”

  “I was hoping that you might give me a bed for a couple of nights, but there’s no way I’d sleep in this — sorry, lad.”