“Southend Police,” said a distracted female voice.
“Hello, is DI Gary Rowntree there at all?”
“DI Rowntree? One moment.”
The line went silent and then the woman, her voice barely more than a bored groan, came back on the line.
“I’ll just put you through, who shall I say is calling?”
“Oh hang on. I’ll have to call back in a minute, sorry.”
Eva ended the call. Rowntree was in the station, which was excellent news. If he was out and about doing God knew what, then she would never find him. But knowing the tough old sod as she did, Eva knew it wouldn’t be long until he went out again. Rowntree, for all the faults on his lengthening list, was not a desk jockey. As she waited Eva listened absentmindedly to the radio and waited. Within ten minutes of her phone call her mind was idling, when she saw a dark Toyota saloon pull up at the lights by the side of the silent courthouse. Behind the courthouse the police station owned a sizeable car park with a tall sliding gate. The car was sleek and gleaming clean, much the opposite of the man inside it. She strained to get a glimpse of the driver. Yes, there was his bulbous head. If not for the angle of the Toyota she would have checked the registration plate instead. She didn’t have much time before she would lose him again. She gunned the engine and put her foot down to reach the end of the slip road. She pulled out onto the dual carriageway to the annoyance of a speeding car which braked close and personal up behind Eva’s tail lights. Eva put on her indicator and swept the car around into a law breaking U-turn at the first junction she came to. She was on the right side of the road just as Gary Rowntree’s light turned to green. Eva slowed the Alfa. It was time for wisdom and discretion. She was back in surveillance mode and she was going to test her skills and luck to the very limit.
Eva decided she needed some ground rules. Dan never liked rules, they cramped his style, but for Eva, rules were supportive. With them she knew when to follow and when to bail. If Rowntree was the killer rules were all the more important as, if she got too close, a killer would always kill to defend himself. The first rule was bail out before getting caught. Remembering the first rule, the second was – make it count. She had to take some risks to learn anything. There was a tension between the two rules and this was the nature of the job.
Driving behind Gary Rowntree in her signature red Alfa Romeo, she suddenly felt ridiculously conspicuous. Gary knew her car well. The gap between their cars and the mess of aggressive late night traffic afforded her some protection. Rowntree turned left at the junction opposite the cinema, heading towards the Seafront. Eva made it before the light turned red, but at the next set she had to jump through the red to keep up. Two traffic misdemeanours in less than two minutes. Dan would have been proud of her.
The Toyota drew to an abrupt halt on double yellow lines outside the strip bar at the bottom of Lucy Road where it sloped down toward the seaside. Far up the slope were noisy queues for the mid-week club nights. Lucy Road was where the best of the worst clubs were situated, just behind and above the Golden Mile, the glitziest and trashiest part of the seafront. The council had spent a fortune upgrading the public areas and pavements, arcades and the clubs… but they could do nothing about the Golden Mile’s character. It was still Kiss-Me-Quick, but with a twenty-first-century twist. The old hats and T shirts were mostly gone, instead the sluttiness, the garishness, and the slightest undertone of brooding violence remained. Beyond the big strip of flashing lights, the beaches of Westcliff and Chalkwell, Soutchurch and Thorpe Bay were peaceful. But the Golden Mile wasn’t about peace. It was about puerile enjoyment of every shade, and all kinds of temptation weren’t far behind. Up on Lucy Road, Rowntree got out of his car and pulled his raincoat collar tight about his neck. Eva parked outside the Kebab shop at the end of the road and stared up the slope towards him. There was no way she could follow him into The Strip. But she was sure his actions would soon reveal something…
Half an hour later, she watched Gary Rowntree emerge with two others. One was a girl with her hair all big and messy and styled like it was the 1980s. She wore way too much make up. They were laughing, Gary apparently big with the jokes. The other guy with them looked like a bouncer. She saw Gary Rowntree had a bottle of alcohol in his hand, just a beer. The girl was wearing a big winter coat, but from the bare legs and sandals Eva guessed she was one of the strippers. Gary bade his farewells. The blonde leaned in and wrapped her arms around Rowntree and gave him a lingering kiss which the man didn’t fight, eventually the bouncer-looking guy peeled her away and they all laughed again. Class. The whole thing reeked of a class act. Rowntree’s reputation was diving lower with each passing minute. He got back into his saloon and started the engine. Twenty seconds later Eva started the Alfa and pulled out into the crawling seafront traffic, turning left towards quieter Southchurch.
The Toyota stopped just outside the wall of another notorious council estate in the town. Unlike the Kingsmere estate’s simple tower block arrangement, The Talbot estate was an array of low rise blocks all linked by walkways and sealed off from the town by its big wall. Locals called it Alcatraz. It always reminded Eva of the estates you’d see in East and South East London, and with a crime rate to match. Beneath each block was a car park area into which no one ventured at night, unless they planned to turn a dangerous buck. Eva was not keen to venture in, but when she saw the Toyota turn the corner onto the estate she had no choice. Worse still, she’d need to abandon the trade mark red Alfa as soon as possible, or Rowntree would see her for sure. Eva parked up in a bay near the mouth of the estate, took a breath and got out quickly. It was now or never. She walked into the estate, and heard the sounds of the ghetto as soon as she arrived. Loud music blaring from concrete balconies. Arguments between spouses roaring at full volume while neighbours called for them to kill each other and get it over with. Menacing laughter and echoing noises from beneath the blocks, noises sexual or animal, Eva couldn’t tell. Even if she’d seen the source of the racket she guessed she still wouldn’t be able to tell. Parked outside the Childrens’ Centre in the middle of the Talbot estate was Rowntree’s Toyota, its engine ticking as it cooled. She looked around her, noticing movement in the shadows, but not seeing Rowntree. Then, ahead, she saw his back as he walked along a landscaped path between two tall hedges. He was heading to the seafront end of the estate. She moved quickly after him, padding her feet as quietly as she could. Before she reached the end of the path she recognised Rowntree’s voice. He’d stopped somewhere ahead. Yet, Eva felt she was being watched. She looked up, and there on the first floor balcony of the block just before her was a black man in his early to mid-twenties with short dreadlocked hair. He was leaning over the balcony, looking at her, a smile on his face and a super long spliff burning in his hand. Eva put a finger to her lips to shush him. The man nodded with sleepy eyes that said ‘no problem.’ Then the spliff meister looked over across the hedges to where Rowntree stood talking. Eva tuned in to the voices.
“No, it ain’t like that. Not at all,” said a ferrety little voice. Nasal and ferrety.
“Then what’s it like?”
“No one likes him anyway, do they?”
“Liked him. No one liked him. You heard me didn’t you?” said Rowntree.
Their voices were going up and down. They were trying to be discreet, with emotional stress getting the better of them.
“Whatever. I know, he’s dead. Big deal.”
“Maybe not for you, dickhead.”
“Show some respect.” Said the ferret guy. “I could get you battered round here. This is our place.”
“Really?” said Rowntree.
“Really.”
Suddenly she heard a scuffle. Blows were struck, growls and grunts of pain came through the hedges loud and clear. Eva wondered if they were going to break through her hideout.
“So then, how did threatening me work out for you, Bob?”
“You… bastard…” groaned the other man.
&nbs
p; “Play the game and you get an easy ride, maybe even a few quid to piss up the wall. Start giving me gip and you get squashed flat. Sorry to give you a reminder, Bobby boy, but you needed it.”
“Piss off…”
“Listen to me before I belt you again. I need to hear what the street hears about John Balfour, alright? And I need to hear it as soon as you do, you verminous little bastard. Do you hear? Keep giving me what I need, and you get your splosh money. Clear?”
There was silence.
“I asked you if we were CLEAR.”
“Crystal. One hundred per cent.”
“There’s a good little rodent. Here’s a tenner. Now piss off and get drunk.”
The conversation was over, as she heard the man called Bob scuttle away. Now Eva felt stuck. She pondered whether to run for it, heading back for the car before Rowntree saw her, then she wondered whether to wait. The indecision kept her in the hidden walkway. Whichever way she moved there was a chance of being spotted, and if Rowntree walked the same way he’d come he would catch her for certain. She looked up at the young dope head. He looked across the hedges and pointed to the right, his finger tracking Rowntree’s movements. Or so she hoped. She gave the man the thumbs up and then ignored the big kiss the man blew in return.
She walked slowly back towards the Childrens’ Centre. She couldn’t spot him now. When she was out in the open, half way across the road which curled around to the Childrens’ Centre she froze, suddenly uncertain. She listened again, and scanned the area. She saw two shadows beneath the car park handing a pipe one to the other. She guessed it was a hash or maybe even a crack pipe. Then at her back she looked around and saw two big and bright menacing eyes pointed at her from beneath the opposite building. A lone man was leaning against a concrete pillar, and did not seem concerned that he had been spotted. He stared relentlessly. Fear crawled up her spine. Eva walked on. Now she made out Rowntree’s voice talking in a hush. Next she saw him, his big body leaning in close to a slender female shape. The female was leaning against a concrete pillar of the opposite block. Eva walked carefully, curling her way around the edge of the block, following the estate street.
Now she heard his whispering.
“You’re too pretty for this game. Why the hell are you wasting yourself?”
“It’s too late, Gary. I’m in it for the long haul now...”
“Bullshit. Get out before you end up like Laura…”
“I won’t end up like Laura. I’m tougher than her, Gary.”
“You ain’t tough. Look at you. You’re too pretty to be tough.”
“Hah. You’re sweet on me, are you?”
“Don’t push it. You’re still a slapper. I’m just saying… be careful. There’s something serious going down.”
“Like what?”
“Like I can’t say.”
“Can’t say or won’t say.”
“You’re pushing it, Donna. Now here’s a twenty. Now you can save yourself getting screwed by some rat.”
“That’s not going to cover the rest of the night, Gary.”
“It’s going to have to. Take it and go home before I find a reason to nick you.”
“Bastard.”
“That’s what all the girls say. Piss off then.”
Mixed messages were coming through. Rowntree was rotten. He was a scoundrel. He was corrupt. He had no boundaries between him and the street, and no rules. Rowntree did what Rowntree did. He was a scumbag and she still didn’t know how bad a scumbag he was. But even so, if she was reading him right, he was still a rough-hewn rock of a man trying to do some good through bad and bizarre means. If she was reading him right. Because equally, he could have been paying to dig on his own crimes, creating a strange alibi and learning what the street knew about his involvement… because if the street knew, the police would soon know as well.
She was pondering this, biding her time and listening for Rowntree’s footfall, when Rowntree’s face appeared before her. He tilted his head and leaned close, giving her a wry and menacing look.
“Well, well, well. Good evening, Miss Roberts. Come here often?”
“Gary!”
“Yes, that’s me. But I’m wondering about you. You’ve been following me a long while now, haven’t you? What a waste of time. If you’d called me, you could have come with me instead, and seen how the proper work gets done.”
“Proper work, Gary?”
“Yeah. How problems are dealt with. It’s not by pen pushers in the station. It’s by the grafters, the sloggers and fighters like me. And believe me, there aren’t many around these days.”
“No. I suppose not.” Right now Eva was gauging the danger, biding for time. Better to talk and let him keep talking until she could think of what to do.
“Think you’re better than me, is that it?”
“No, Gary. I’m not better than anyone at all. I’m just doing what I can.”
Rowntree laughed and shifted on his feet.
“I know. I know because you’re a grafter like me who does what they have to, to get the job done. Because the bottom line is important. Getting the job done is what counts. All that time when I thought you were better than me, above me, out of my league, and really we were always on the same page. I actually find that reassuring. But I won’t ever put you on a pedestal again. Don’t get me wrong, Eva. I admire you. And I still fancy you, I always did, you know that… But you’re not above me. No better. And certainly no different.”
“What you’re doing, Gary, the stuff I’ve seen tonight. I don’t know what it’s about… but it’s dodgy…”
“It gets the job done, remember. As for dodgy, Eva, I know your story too. I’m only as dodgy as you are, sweetheart.”
Gary’s face changed. His eyes went emotionless, and they seized hers. She saw him thinking and it bothered her. He leaned in close against her face, putting his face into her soft red hair.
“We’re the same, Eva. The same.”
“No! Don’t do that!” she said, and pushed him away.
“I only wanted to smell your perfume,” said Rowntree, pulling away.
Eva looked at him with wide eyes. She was ready to run. Gary Rowntree put his hands in his suit pockets, turned and started to walk away.
“We were friends once, remember Eva? I didn’t kill that tart. I’d like to get my hands on the bastard that did.” He turned around in the middle of the street. “Do me a favour, Eva. Don’t hang around here too long. It’s dangerous you know. Bad things are happening to pretty girls too often lately…”
She watched him go to his car, start the engine and drive away. She took a glance over to where the strange watcher with the big eyes had been, but he was gone. Then Eva Roberts walked to her car as quickly as she could. Rowntree was more than misguided, she was sure. He was a menace. She just didn’t know if he was a killer, and yet the despicable man tarred her with the same brush and used his lust for her as a threat. If she told Dan she knew the threat would be over in a very short time. But then Dan would surely go to prison. She’d had enough of that last time. All she could do was help Dan track the killer, and hope Rowntree somehow got implicated and brought to justice. But there was one little problem with that… just how much did Rowntree know about when she’d ‘crossed the line?’ But implicating Rowntree would prove difficult. From all she’d heard she still believed Rowntree knew something about the murders which he had not shared with her and Dan. If he wasn’t the killer, maybe he knew who was. They would have to work around Rowntree. It was time to go back a step to take a closer look at John Balfour and the people around him. There had to be some other clues somewhere…
Fourteen
After she’d arrived home in the middle of the night, wired on adrenaline, Dan had woken with a special method of comfort in mind. He didn’t know what had shaken her, and she wasn’t going to give him the full details. For decorum, she relented to his passion, and let his mixture of strength and softness subdue her into a spent slumber. Late
r, waking in Dan’s arms, she was more tired than she’d been in weeks, but thoughts of the video footage danced around her mind. It was a new day, but she was still exhausted from her long night. She got up wearily, made coffee and showered herself conscious.
Dan made it downstairs in jeans and a faded grey T shirt, eyes full of sleep while Eva was dressed and ready for business in her herringbone suit.
“Whoa. That suit always does things to me,” said Dan.
“Apparently, everything I wear does something to you at the moment,” she smiled.
“Take it as a compliment,”
“I do,” she picked up a slice of toast and left the other one for Dan. She gave Dan an update, the abridged version on what she’d seen and heard from Rowntree before he got up close and personal. Dan gave her the look that said ‘you shouldn’t have taken those risks alone,’ but he didn’t complain. She headed for the door of her flat down into the office. “Now, don’t get into trouble, don’t let anyone else get me into trouble and don’t get killed, okay?”
“Yes mum.”
“Don’t start. You heard me.”
Dan saluted and Eva made a dash for the door.
Jim Greer led Eva back to the ageing boardroom at Alabaster and shut the door behind them. He sat down at one side of the table, Eva at the other. It felt like she was about to be interviewed for a job, and she fought to dispel it by opening her laptop bag.
“Are you okay, Miss Roberts?”
“Oh. I’m a little tired. But you’ll see why in a minute.”
She produced the laptop and switched it on. It opened quickly and she clicked into the video recording app, and jogged the image forwards towards the time the hooded youth had exposed his face.
“Watch this.”
She swivelled the laptop for Jim Greer and she watched his eyes. Initially confused, the old man’s eyes settled as the picture started moving. “This is our office. Last night?”
The Dirty Game Page 9
