Roll The Dice (DCI Cooper Book 3)

by B Baskerville

  Cooper and Tennessee shared a look. “Actually,” Cooper said, making sure to keep her voice neutral, “New evidence came to light and Charlene is no longer considered a suspect. She was released this morning.”

  Lily looked put out. She pulled her phone from a designer handbag and marched towards the house. “Charlene? The police said you’d been released… You have! About time too. Where are you? Do you need a lift?”

  The door to the barn closed and Cooper and Tennessee were left in the courtyard twiddling their thumbs until George emerged with a tray of drinks.

  “Sparkling water?” he asked. The ice cubes chimed against the glasses as he walked. He placed the tray on the patio table and took a seat. “I assume it’s my turn to have a little chat. I overheard Lily. Is it true? Is Charlene free to come home?”

  Cooper nodded; he seemed relieved.

  “I never thought she was capable of something like that.”

  Cooper and Tennessee sat opposite George. Tennessee removed a notepad and pen and waited for Cooper to begin.

  “George, I wanted to ask you about your relationship with your father.”

  George scoffed and ran his finger up the edge of his drink, snaking a trail through the condensation that was forming on the outside of the glass. “What relationship? It certainly wasn’t one of father and son. We were employer and employee.” He paused to look at the sky. “Actually, I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter so it would be more accurate to say we were master and slave. I used to be jealous of other families. I knew my family was wealthy, and I was supposed to be grateful, but I was always jealous of the poorer kids at school. They’d come in on a Monday and talk about what they’d been up to with their families. Building a den in the woods with their dad. Making a pie with their mum. Putting the sofa cushions on the floor and camping out in the living room. We never did anything like that. In Morshaw, it wasn’t a case of children should be seen and not heard, it was a case of children should stay the hell out the way at all times. Until we were old enough to be useful, that is.”

  Cooper felt terrible for him. There was clearly an unhealthy dynamic to the Blackburn clan.

  “Yesterday,” she started, “when I said I was sorry for your loss, you snorted. Did you doubt my sincerity, or are you glad your father is dead?”

  George leant back so that the sunshine covered his face while he considered the question. He stayed like that for a good twenty seconds before adjusting his posture again. “My dad was a bad man,” was all he said.

  “I heard what happened to Dylan when he was younger. From what I’ve been told, it sounds like your father was a violent man.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  Cooper considered placing a hand on his arm as a comforting gesture but thought it might be overkill and reconsidered. “Tell me more,” she said.

  “He created a monster. You just have to look at Dylan to see that. Beat the shit out of him so he’d beat the shit out of others.”

  A monster. That wasn’t the first time Cooper had heard that phrase used to describe Dylan.

  George removed his glasses and placed them on the table. His eyes looked smaller without the glass lenses to magnify them. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes for a moment before continuing. “If you ask me, I’d say Dylan snapped. It’s the cycle of violence, isn’t it?” His voice trailed away as he gulped at his water.

  Cooper noted that the young man’s eyes were reddening at the edges and he didn’t look like he’d had a good night’s sleep in a while.

  “And as for Lily,” he paused to look over his shoulder, “Dad controlled every aspect of her life. The precious little princess. You know, until this happened, I’m not sure Lily even knew what Dad and Uncle Eddie did for a living. The baby girl sheltered from the big bad world. Dad didn’t even like her dating. Apart from the Hanson boy. Practically whored her out to broker that deal.”

  “Which Hanson boy?” Tennessee asked.

  “The eldest. He’s called Richard. Dylan and I just called him Dick.”

  Tennessee’s mouth twitched.

  “Theo couldn’t stand it. Understandably. Called Dad a dirty old pimp. Course he’s the only one who could talk to Dad like that and get away with it. He basically has immunity being Eddie’s son.”

  Cooper’s forehead creased into three lines. “Why couldn’t Theo stand it?”

  George rolled his eyes. “Because he and Lily are a thing. It’s disgusting. They’re cousins. They think no one knows, but they’re not that subtle, and we’re not idiots.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes again. This time they looked like they’d disappeared back into his skull. “So, coming back to your earlier question. Am I glad my father is dead? The answer is yes. He beat on Dylan before he was even born, he never let Lily grow up, and as for me…” He stopped himself.

  “What did he do to you?” Cooper asked.

  George’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He picked up his glass of sparkling water and threw it with all his might against the wall of the barn. The glass shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces that scattered around the courtyard. Ice cubes slid across the paving stones, and a slice of lemon came to rest by George’s foot. “My dad was a bastard. The devil incarnate. He deserved to die.”

  Cooper had been caught off guard by George’s outburst. She’d heard he was the quiet, bookish one of the Blackburn family, but perhaps that was just when he was viewed in comparison to the likes of Dylan and Fletcher.

  “George,” Tennessee said, his voice calm but firm, “is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

  “Like if I killed my father? No. I did not. And as for Mo, I didn’t want him dead. He was good to us. Excuse me for a moment. I need to wash my face.” He got to his feet, picked up his glasses and walked away.

  While George composed himself, Cooper put a call into Whyte, and Tennessee stroked the belly of a tortoiseshell cat that had wandered into the courtyard.

  “What’s the latest on Hanson?”

  “Bugger all, Erica—”

  “Ma’am,” she corrected him.

  There was a pause. “I was under the impression you hated being called ma’am.”

  “You’re new to my team. Until we have the level of familiarity and trust that I have with the others, we’ll be using the formal means of address.” What Cooper didn’t add was that she didn’t think he’d ever reach that stage. He’d shown his true colours when they’d joined the force. “If you don’t like ma’am, chief is also fine. Now, what do you mean by bugger all?”

  “We’ve been watching him since ten or ten-fifteen. He left his home to walk to the local shop, bought a paper and some Rizlas. Didn’t leave home again until noon, when he, his wife and son headed to the RVI, which is where we are now, ma’am.”

  There was a tension in his voice when he added ma’am.

  “Okay. Keaton and Martin want to speak to Hanson again. Call Keaton and let her know where she can find him. Don’t talk to them when they arrive. I don’t want Hanson making you or Boyd. Let me know if he meets any associates.”

  Cooper hung up and Tennessee eyed her. “What’s the deal with you and—” He cut himself off when George returned. She wondered if he thought Whyte was a former lover and things had ended badly. She trusted Tennessee and would explain her coldness to Whyte, but for now, they had more questions for George Blackburn.

  “George, are you okay to continue?”

  He nodded and sat down. “Sorry about that. I’m usually more controlled.”

  “It’s a difficult time for all of you,” Cooper said softly. “I’d like to take you back to Sunday when your father met with Wayne Hanson. Were you there for the meeting?”

  “Yes. It was me, Dylan and Dad. Theo was there and Mo too. Hanson brought a heavy with him, but it was all very amicable. Dad and Hanson were working toward the same goal.”

  “Taking out the Roker Boys.”

  His body tensed. “Who told you th
at?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cooper said. “So, you’re saying the atmosphere was good? There was no tension between your father and Hanson?”

  “It was fine. They’d been meeting regularly. They agreed on the plan.”

  Cooper wiped a hand over the back of her neck; she was going to burn if she wasn’t careful. “What was the plan, George?”

  He flashed a knowing smile. “No comment.”

  He wasn’t silly. He didn’t want to incriminate himself or his remaining family. As he wasn’t under arrest, he had no motivation to share that information.

  “Did your father arrange for Hanson to return on Monday?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We arranged to meet again in a week’s time.”

  “How did you spend Monday?”

  He glanced sideways, recalling the day his father died. “Erm, let’s see. In the morning I walked the dogs. I took them up to Keilder and hiked a five-mile trail. I got back to Morshaw at about noon, had a shower, chatted to Charlene. She wants to redesign the garden. She wanted my input—”

  “You like Charlene?” Cooper asked. She’d picked up on Lily’s mummy’s boy comment.

  “What do you mean like?”

  He was sensitive to it. When no teasing remark followed, he continued.

  “She’s the only person in my family who never made fun of me for liking books and stuff.”

  “What did you do in the afternoon?”

  His cheeks reddened. “I had a date.”

  “Who with? Where did you go?”

  “Her name’s Rose Watson. We met at about two next to Grey’s Monument, ate at Wagamama’s in Newcastle then went to the cinema in the Gate. We had a few drinks afterwards.”

  To her left, Cooper saw Tennessee note down the name of the restaurant. “What did you see?” he asked.

  “The new Tarantino.”

  “Is it any good?” Tennessee asked, lifting his eyes from the notepad.

  George shrugged. “It was all right. Took a while to get going.”

  A rumble of car tyres on gravel caused all three pairs of eyes to turn to the driveway. A silver Mercedes rolled to a stop, and a towering man with a dark ponytail and eyes the colour of coal emerged. Cooper immediately recognised him as Fletcher’s nephew, Theo Blackburn. That saved Cooper the job of tracking him down. He’d come to them.

  “Erica Cooper, long time no speak,” he said as he approached. He extended an arm and shook Cooper’s hand. He stank of beer and was most likely over the limit. “I liked you better with long hair,” he said as if Cooper cared. “You know, I think Dad had a thing for you. Pretty ladies were always his weak spot. It’s the only explanation for him dishing on the other families. The Blackburns aren’t rats. I bet he thinks about you while he’s tucked up in bed in that cell of his. If you know what I mean.”

  Cooper knew exactly what he meant. It was nonsense. Eddie Blackburn did not have a thing for her, nor did she consider herself the sort of pretty lady a Blackburn boss would go for. Theo had only said it to unsettle her. It wouldn’t work.

  He turned to George. “Your sister at home?”

  George glared at him, blinked, then tilted his head towards the barn.

  As Theo walked away, Cooper placed a photograph on the table. “Do you recognise this gun?”

  George swallowed. “Is this what…”

  “Yes, that’s the gun that was used to shoot your father and Ibrahim Moradi.”

  “Em…” He looked back at the house and rubbed his forehead.

  “What is it?” Cooper asked.

  “It’s nothing. No. No, I don’t recognise it."

  “You do, George. I can see it in your eyes. There’s no point lying to me.”

  He glanced at the house again and shook his head in resignation. “That’s Dad’s gun,” he said. “He kept it hidden in his office.”

  Finally, they were getting somewhere. They knew who the murder weapon belonged to. Now to work out who’d used it.

  Tennessee leant forwards. “Who else knew about the gun?”

  George turned his head back to look at Tennessee. “Hardly anyone. Dylan, Theo, Mo and well, me. And even though we knew he had it, we never knew where to find it.”

  “You said he kept it in his office,” Cooper reminded him.

  “Yes, in his office, but beyond that, I couldn’t tell you. Dad was a paranoid man. He trusted few people and to be honest, I don’t think he even trusted those. I mean… look what happened. The bastard was right, wasn’t he? Three times I saw that gun. Once he pulled it out of the desk drawer and stuck it in my face because I’d put a decimal point in the wrong place. Completely messed up our calculations for the new restaurant. Another time it was in a book, a fake book, one of those ones where the pages have been hollowed out.”

  “What had happened on that occasion?”

  George turned his palms to the ceiling. “Some little chav kid from Blyth. Don’t ask me his name—I have no idea—but I know he was part of Cannon’s crew.”

  “And who’s Cannon?” Cooper asked.

  “He erm, he works for someone who works for Dad.”

  “So Cannon’s a soldier?”

  “Call him what you like.” George was momentarily distracted by the tortoiseshell cat as it jumped on to his lap and purred loudly. He shoved it off his knee and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Allergies,” he explained. “Yeah, this chav kid was selling… let’s say, sweets.”

  “Sweets?” Cooper asked, making air quotes.

  “Yeah, sweets. Anyway, he lost a bag of these sweets, said they’d been stolen, but Canon thought he’d kept them for himself. He owed Canon, which meant he owed Peters, which meant he owed Dad. He didn’t shoot him. Just scared the crap out of him. I don’t think the gun’s ever been used, not until…”

  “When was this?” Cooper asked, wondering if the unnamed chav kid could have been feeling vengeful.

  George stared into space for a moment and exhaled. “Got to be at least three, four years ago.”

  Cooper concluded that unless the kid wanted his revenge served ice cold, he probably wasn’t involved. “And the third time you saw the gun?”

  “I saw it hidden behind the bin. I think he thought if he kept moving it, no one would be able to grab it before he could.”

  He’d been wrong. Someone had managed it.

  Cooper got to her feet; she had all the information she needed for now. “Thank you for your time, George. I’d like to speak with Theo. Where would I most likely find him.”

  George rubbed his brow. “He’s either raiding the liquor cabinet or doing something unspeakable to my sister.”

  Cooper hoped it was the former.

  - Chapter 17 -

  Theo Blackburn was what Cooper would describe as a workie-ticket. Nixon would say he was a good-for-nowt-piss-taker with an ego the size of St. James’ Park. When Cooper asked Theo for a word, he picked up a copy of the Evening Chronicle and said. “Give me five minutes, sweetheart. I need to take a dump.”

  Charmed, Cooper waited outside the downstairs loo for five minutes, then she waited five more. When Theo still hadn’t returned after forty minutes, she banged several times on the bathroom door.

  “Can’t a man shit in peace?” His voice was low and gravelly, but it cracked a few times. He wasn’t angry. He was stifling a laugh and wasting her time.

  Tennessee looked like he was ready to kick the door down, which gave Cooper an idea.

  “Theo. You’ve been in there a long time. I’m becoming concerned for your safety, and as a member of law enforcement, I can legally enter a room to conduct a welfare check. If you don’t want us to see you with your pants around your ankles, I suggest—”

  The toilet flushed and the door opened.

  “See,” he said, zipping up his fly. “Alive and well.”

  Cooper hid her face in the crook of her elbow. “But we won’t be if we stand here much longer,” she muttered.

  “That’ll be last nigh
t’s chilli.”

  “You don’t say.” Cooper’s eyes were beginning to water. “Now, Theo. I need to discuss—”

  “Shower first. Discussions later.” He pushed past Cooper and headed for the stairs.

  “Theo?” He was trying her patience.

  “Come on, you know you have to have a shower after taking a shit.”

  Tennessee shot his arm out and blocked the stairwell. “Nice try. Now go back to the kitchen, sit down and answer our questions or—”

  “Or what exactly?” Theo’s expression turned from class clown to evil clown. Cooper had seen it time and time again with these alpha males. Tennessee had the height, clear skin and cheekbones of a runway model and men like Theo Blackburn didn’t take kindly to being challenged by pretty boys. To be fair, they didn’t take kindly to being challenged by anyone, but attractive men really seemed to get them riled up. Cooper knew exactly how to bring him back into line. She pulled out her phone and started dialling.

  “What you doin’? Askin’ for back up?”

  Cooper smiled. “Nope.” She pressed speakerphone.

  “Westgate Unit. HMP Frankland.”

  Theo’s expression changed again. This time from evil clown to little boy.

  “This is DCI Cooper, Northumbria CID.” She recited her badge number. “I’d like a word with Eddie, please.”

  Theo shook his head. “All right, all right. Hang up. You made your point.”

  As Theo skulked off to the kitchen, Cooper winked at Tennessee. He winked back.

  “Let’s start with an easy one. Where did you go after the family meeting on Monday morning?”

  Theo already had a can of Coors in his hand. It whooshed as he pulled the tab and he gulped down the foam before it overflowed.

  “Out and about. Here and there.”

  “Dylan called you that morning. He said you weren’t picking up.”

  “I was driving. You’re not supposed to use your phone and drive at the same time. It’s illegal. Isn’t it, detective?”

  Dick, Cooper thought. “Where were you driving, Theo? Start talking or I hit redial.”

  “All right, don’t get your panties in a twist. I drove home, parked up and I went into Newcastle for a few hours then got the Metro to Sunderland. If you’re looking for an alibi, I’m bound to be on camera getting the train from Haymarket to Pallgate.”