FF 07 Creature Discomforts

by Ted Tayler

  “You both worked for Gary in 2009 when Spencer Curtis died,” asked Gus.

  “Yeah, Grant wanted him dead. Gary told Denver and me to find Curtis and take him to them. They were waiting for us out at Blacklands, near Calne in a car. We used the firm’s old van that night. We didn’t have the Mercedes in those days; it was a white Ford Transit. We dropped Curtis on the ground, wrapped in plastic sheeting, and drove away. First thing next morning Denver told me Gary had called him and said to make an anonymous call to the police, telling them where to find the body.”

  “The Burnsides were happy to risk you and Denver getting caught, but distanced themselves from the sharp end,” said Gus. “Not such a tight family, after all, were you?”

  Vic Hodge didn’t reply.

  “You were present the night that Blake Dixon died too,” said Gus.

  “We took him to the snooker club, into the Matchroom, where Gary likes to go.”

  “What’s the Matchroom?” asked Gus.

  “A private room with one table for the tournament matches, money games, stuff like that. The cloth they put on is super-fast, the same as they use at The Crucible for the professionals. In the old days, the pros visited the club to play exhibitions. They don’t come any more.”

  “How many tables are there altogether?” asked Gus.

  “They’ve got a mixture of snooker and pool tables these days. I’m not sure. Back then, there were seven snooker tables in the main room. It was difficult to get more in because of the concrete pillars. The staff had cameras behind the bar for the outside tables, so they could see what was going on. Grant didn’t mind the odd deal getting done, but when the lads brought their girlfriends, well, you can imagine what went on in the dark corners.”

  “What happened that night with Blake Dixon?” asked Gus.

  “Grant and Gary took him into the Matchroom. Denver and I had given him a hiding before we brought him inside. We stood guard outside the door, thinking the place was empty. We couldn’t see the lads playing on Table 7 because of the pillars. They were racking the balls up for a new frame, and one of them had gone for a fag. When the shotgun went off, all hell broke loose, and the lads dashed for the door. Denver told them to stay put and keep their mouth shut. Grant came out of the room and realised someone had been there. He was an arrogant sod, as always. Grant reckoned he was untouchable, so he just told the bar manager to give the lads a beer and put their table fees on his tab. They got the message they were dead if he heard they ever said a word.”

  “What about Howard Todd?” asked Gus.

  “You know what happened there,” said Hodge, as if it was a surprise to get asked that question. “Toddy thought he could get away with dealing Grant’s drugs on a ‘one for me, and one for you’ basis. Like a child handing out sweets to his best friend in the playground. What a fool. We chased him halfway across Park South, and when we got to Cheney Manor, Grant calmly wandered off for a cup of tea while we laid into him. Grant and Gary were the problems. They enjoyed inflicting pain. For Denver and me, it was just a job. We softened them up, and they did the rest. Grant had an arrangement with that McHugh fellow, the same as you said, and afterwards, they drove away with the body. I helped Denver hose down the sheeting they’d used and tried to get rid of the stench. We heard the truck pull up outside. Gary came in the side door and went to the control panel to operate the roller doors. We ran outside when we heard the noise. Gary spewed his guts when he saw the mess the bullet made of his Dad’s head, and when he could stand up straight again, he called Iverson.”

  “Thank you, Vic,” said Gus, “that’s been most helpful. I think you know that because of your known association with Grant and Gary Burnside, a court might find you guilty of the murders you say they committed. You were there throughout each of the instances you described, and it’s reasonable to assume you knew what was likely to happen. However, your co-operation will be important, and I’ll do what I can to minimise the impact on you when this reaches the courts.”

  “What do you mean co-operation,” said Vic, who suddenly looked puzzled. “I haven’t co-operated with anyone. I just told you my side of everything you said you already learned from the others.”

  “In the long run you’ll agree that it was your best course of action,” said Gus. “We’re talking to Kerry this afternoon. Is there a message you’d wish us to pass to her?”

  Vic Hodge shook his head.

  Gus nodded to the warder, and Vic Hodge left the room. The prison officer waited while Gus and Lydia collected their belongings.

  “I’ll see you out, Mr Freeman, Miss,” he said, “did you get everything you wanted?”

  “We got far more than I expected,” said Gus, “but we’re still no closer to identifying Grant Burnside’s killer.”

  “I remember Burnside from my days at HMP Winchester,” said the prison officer. “I saw what he did to Manny Franchetti. Grant was a sadistic animal. If it were me, I’d rejoice that Burnside was dead and raise a glass to whoever did the deed. I’d never bust a gut to find the person responsible.”

  “Until we know who did it and why we can’t be sure Grant Burnside was their only victim.”

  “A serial killer who only deals in gang leaders, did you mean?” laughed the prison officer. “Now that’s the daftest thing I’ve heard this week. Time for you to go.”

  When they were outside the prison, and back in the car, Lydia turned to Gus.

  “That was sneaky, guv,” she said, “Vic Hodge was too thick to realise you tricked him into a confession. I don’t think the penny dropped until the very end. Iverson would never have let you get away with that.”

  “True, but did Vic shout for a lawyer at any point during our meeting?”

  “No, he didn’t, but…”

  “We’ll let Gablecross worry about any repercussions. Everything we’ve uncovered is unrelated to our particular task. They can arrest those responsible and take unsolved cases off the books. I want to hear what Luke and Neil learned from Joseph Burnside first. We still have to talk to Kerry. I want to pursue the niggle that Vic Hodge started when he said that he and Kerry were unhappy with the way things went after Grant’s death. What things? Are they still going on? We’ll forget Andy Wilkinson for now, but we should still visit Fergus McHugh as planned. When we’ve gathered everything together, we’ll present the information to Gablecross. Then we can start with Andy Wilkinson and try to identify our mystery marksman. That’s our job, and all this other stuff is preventing us from getting on with it.”

  Gus drove them to Swindon and parked outside the building where Kerry Burnside lived. The layout was much as Gus expected, with the ground floor containing one desk, plus a comfortable executive office chair. There were four matching chrome and black leather chairs for clients. A rank of four grey filing cabinets lined the partition wall.

  It was basic stuff for a taxi firm Room 101. This was Kerry’s domain. The office in which she attempted to convince everyone the Burnsides ran a legitimate business.

  Beyond the partition wall were a kitchenette and a cloakroom. Gus couldn’t see it from the pavement, but he’d bet his pension on it. Lydia rang the doorbell.

  “Kerry must be upstairs in the flat,” said Lydia.

  “The stairs are right behind the partition wall,” said Gus, “with the facilities to your left as you climb to the first floor.”

  “Have you been here before, guv?” said Lydia.

  “No, but I’ve visited a thousand offices in my career. What more do you need?”

  A large woman appeared from where Gus had said the staircase would be. Kerry Burnside matched Jake’s description to Neil in every respect. She was as tall as Gary, and four stones heavier. Nature can be cruel.

  “We’ll talk in here,” said Kerry when she opened the door. When Lydia and Gus eased past her, Kerry flicked the office sign to ‘Closed’ and made a point of closing the Venetian blinds on each of the windows to prevent passers-by from looking in.

  “
People around here want to know everyone’s business,” she said.

  Gus explained who they were and why they wished to speak with her this afternoon. Kerry gazed alternately at Gus and then Lydia. Gus wasn’t sure whether she was listening to what he was saying or sizing them up for a trip to Fergus McHugh.

  “How do you get on with the other members of your family, Kerry?” asked Gus.

  “I’ll stop you there, Mr Freeman,” said Kerry, “Patrick’s on his way. He won’t be a minute. He knows that I’m more than capable of answering your questions without embarrassing my brothers, but he’s on his guard now, after the stunt you pulled this morning.”

  “Perhaps it would have helped if you had visited Mr Hodge in Horfield this morning,” said Gus, “you could have made sure he said nothing out of turn. Mr Iverson had his hands full in Marlborough, trying to keep Henry and Joseph out of trouble.”

  Kerry shrugged and allowed herself a brief smile.

  “Nice try, Mr Freeman. Patrick warned me about you.”

  “I can’t think why,” said Gus, “I only want the truth, and your solicitor agreed to these meetings because he wanted to help the police find your father’s killer. We’ve had nothing but cooperation throughout the conversations we’ve had so far.”

  Lydia nudged Gus’s arm. If her keen ears weren’t deceiving her Iverson’s Jaguar had just pulled up outside. The doorbell rang, and Kerry let him in.

  “I hope you haven’t asked my client leading questions, Freeman,” he said.

  Kerry shoved one of the visitor chairs alongside her comfy seat. Iverson placed his briefcase on the desk and sat down.

  “Kerry asked us to wait until you joined us,” said Gus. “Did Henry and Joseph escape unscathed from this morning’s meetings?”

  “Of course,” said Iverson. “You sent two junior staff members to cover up your secret visit to HMP Bristol. I should have known not to trust you, Freeman. You realised that Henry and Joseph could offer you nothing. They’re legitimate businessmen who work tirelessly for the family and wasted their morning answering inane questions. Meanwhile, you were interrogating Mr Hodge without the benefit of counsel. I have yet to learn what you think you learned from him, but rest assured the Burnside family will defend any accusations most strenuously. Vic Hodge is an imbecile. One must take everything he says with a large pinch of salt.”

  Lydia watched Kerry Burnside’s face. The woman was on the verge of tears.

  “I would expect nothing less,” said Gus. “My colleague, Ms Logan Barre, recorded the conversation we had with Mr Hodge. We can provide you with a copy. If you want the names of the prison staff, who were present throughout the meeting, we can also make them available. At no time did Vic Hodge ask for a lawyer to be present. We told him what we’d learned from the conversations we’d had so far, and Vic was kind enough to fill in the odd gap in our knowledge.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Iverson.

  “Well, what do you expect? Apart from Kerry here, Mr Hodge felt abandoned by the family. Nobody has spoken to him since he got arrested. Loyalty has to be earned. Can we get to the matter in hand now and start our conversation with Ms Burnside?”

  Iverson shrugged. Gus was carrying on, no matter what objections he raised.

  CHAPTER 9

  “What do you want to know?” asked Kerry.

  “I’ll come to that. First, I want you to know that we’ve spoken to Maggie, Kirstin, Gary, Henry, Joseph, and Vic,” said Gus. “Please believe me when I say we didn’t leave you until last to upset you. Do you need a moment?”

  Lydia knew that Gus hadn’t missed Kerry’s reaction to Iverson’s assessment of Vic Hodge’s mental capacity. She produced a tissue from her handbag and stretched across the desk to hand it to her.

  Everything stopped while Kerry wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  “The outcome is that I know everything I need about the Sunday morning your father died. Everything except who had the motive and opportunity to kill him. We’ve made no progress on that front yet.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Kerry, “my brothers couldn’t trace him, either.”

  “Vic sends his best wishes, by the way,” said Gus. “That was a well-kept secret, Kerry. We talked to that long list of people before we visited Vic, and not one of them mentioned you two in the same breath.”

  The look on Patrick Iverson’s face was priceless.

  “It’s not what you think,” said Kerry. “We aren’t together in that way. Maybe, if Vic wasn’t in prison and things were different around here, we might have something. I won’t cry myself to sleep every night over it if it doesn’t materialise.”

  “How are things between you and your mother?” asked Gus.

  “They’ve always been fine. I don’t get to see Mum as much these days, because of that little Madam.”

  “Kirstin, d’you mean?” asked Lydia. “Does she monopolise Maggie’s time? She was with your mother when we interviewed her, but I didn’t read too much into that.”

  “She only married Gary for the money and the prestige,” said Kerry. “It’s amazing what some women can bear. Kirstin spends a fortune making herself look terrific, and it’s wasted on Gary. He adores his two kids, but he ignores Kirstin most of the time. I’ve had more meaningful conversations with this desk than those two have had since they got married. I’ve got no time for her. She distances herself from the business that provides her with the money she squanders.”

  Gus made a note. Was this another sign that the Burnside fortress had cracks in its defences? Differences between family members never existed, according to Gary, when they spoke to him yesterday.

  “Henry and Joseph are closer to your age, Kerry,” said Lydia, “how do you get on with them? They’re both single, aren’t they? Do you ever socialise together?”

  “Their time is precious,” sneered Kerry. “Henry and Joseph never take an hour off from the business. It will drive them into an early grave.”

  “So, what sort of social life do you have?” asked Lydia.

  “Who says I need one?” said Kerry, “I look after the books for the company. I work forty hours a week in this office. My flat upstairs has the luxuries I need. I walk my dogs every night. I don’t drink or smoke. Who enjoys going to a cinema or restaurant on their own? My one extravagance is a trip to Horfield prison to visit Vic.”

  “Didn’t you ever go to the snooker club that your Dad and the others used?” asked Gus.

  “Are you joking?” said Kerry. “You wouldn’t catch me in that hellhole.”

  “No, I suppose with the Blake Dixon affair it earned a reputation, didn’t it?”

  “If you check your records, you’ll find that the courts cleared Kerry’s father of any involvement in that episode, Mr Freeman,” said Iverson.

  “That club has always had a lousy reputation,” said Kerry. “It makes my stomach churn to think of it.”

  “As the company Chief Financial Officer, you must have rented the warehouse space out at Cheney Manor,” said Gus. “Where did you move the operation to after your father’s death?”

  “Of course I was involved,” said Kerry. “Despite the fancy title that Dad gave me, I manage the financial affairs alone. I do everything. We had a good deal with that Cheney Manor unit, but Gary couldn’t face going there again after Dad’s death.”

  “It was understandable. That morning had to bring back unpleasant memories,” said Lydia.

  “It wasn’t just the murder,” said Kerry, “Gary prides himself on being a hard man. He didn’t want a constant reminder of his reaction to seeing his father’s dead body in the cab.”

  “Gary was sick, wasn’t he,” said Gus. “That must have appeared strange to Vic and Denver after the alleged violent altercations they joined in together.”

  “Careful, Mr Freeman,” said Iverson. “Kerry wasn’t present that day, and the police have no proof that either man was involved in any of the events you’ve referred to during these interviews. If Gablecross had
any evidence, they would have acted on it.”

  “Things change, Mr Iverson. I can leave that question for now. I’m more interested to learn about the warehouse space that Kerry rented in June 2014.”

  Kerry turned to Patrick Iverson.

  “You need to leave,” she said.

  “I’d advise you most strongly that I stay, Kerry. I need to protect the interests of the whole family. Gary wouldn’t want me to leave.”

  Gus and Lydia watched and waited. Neither of them dared say a word.

  “Vic’s not an imbecile and nor am I,” Kerry snapped. “I don’t need you sitting on my shoulder like a vulture, checking my every word. You’re frightened I might say something that hurts Gary and the precious family. Now get out. I can handle this.”

  Patrick Iverson collected his briefcase and headed for the front door.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” he said as he slammed the door behind him.

  “Do you want a coffee?” asked Kerry. “I reckon things will go easier now that slimy sod has crawled back under his stone.”

  Well, that was a turn up for the book, thought Gus.

  “I can find everything I need behind the partition wall I take it?” said Lydia. “You can sit and chat with Mr Freeman.”

  “I could use an office girl,” said Kerry. “No matter what you think of the family business, it’s tough for one person to manage. Milk and two sugars in mine, thanks.”

  You could make life easier by not needing two sets of books, Gus thought but kept it to himself. They were making headway, and he didn’t want to stop Kerry now she had opened up.