A Web of Lives

by David Medlycott

Having been dragged indoors and had the list of phone calls thrust in his hand, Tobin could not, now, reach anyone in Longalnbury. He had left messages, again, and was sitting waiting.

  He brought Russell up to date on the visit to Mrs Mitchell’s and his certainty that he had now discovered the real identity of Alan Harper. As he explained more about Alan he also found himself opening up to Russell and Hazel and relating his long concealed feelings; the fruits of his nights self-analysis. Having found someone with whom he could be quite frank, he couldn’t stop himself. They in their turn, though much taken aback by this further outpouring, were doing their best to cheer him up and be positive. Russell was turning to his faithful standby in moments such as this and was plying Tobin with food and drink when the phone rang; it was Heather Millin.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Was her greeting.

  ‘I couldn’t begin to explain.’ He said, wearily.

  ‘Well, you’ve completely blown it up here! Sandra's hopping about tearing her hair out; the office phone has never stopped; we’re absolutely overwhelmed. You’ve probably missed the biggest thing to happen in these parts, ever!‘ Tobin closed his eyes and let out an audible sigh.

  ‘Dale’s has been raided, there’s been arrests and seizures. It’s fantastic!’

  ‘Slow down, slow down. Give me the details.’ He rummaged around and found some paper and a pen. ‘Right. Go ahead.’

  ‘This morning, at about four-o-clock, Dale’s was busted by the Drugs Squad. It was a bit last minute, ‘cos my Steve was dragged out of bed. Hey! I didn’t tell you that bit!’ she realised what she had given away. ‘The original plan had been to wait for two of Dales’ trucks to arrive back some time during the day, they were being followed up the country, then they were going to turn him over. But, the trucks diverted off their route somewhere near the top of the M1 motorway. So, the two drivers were grabbed down there while everything up here was brought forward in a bit of a panic. But, one of the drivers still managed to phone a warning to Dale and he got away. But, they arrested Mrs Dale, and, hey, she was spitting fire apparently, and they took two security men from the depot.’ She finally paused for breath. ‘That was this morning’s message.’ He heard the sound of paper being screwed up.

  ‘At lunchtime I had this for you. I can’t use it myself without giving away Steve, my boyfriend, my source, and you’re way down there out of touch!

  ‘Another of Dale’s drivers has been talking to the Squad for a couple of weeks now, it seems, and tipped them off about this trip. Apparently it’s a fairly well known route, but it’s the first time any of Dale’s men have done this trip. They were returning from Turkey through Bulgaria so they would automatically have been noted and watched, it’s a suspicious route, I’m told.’ Tobin recalled that Heather’s latest boyfriend, Steve, was a police officer at a neighbouring station, and had obviously told her all this.

  ‘Now, this driver has worked for Dale for years and, seemingly, they’ve all been ‘at it’ for years, but, not touching drugs. Dale paid them a kind of commission depending on what, and how much, stuff they were bringing in. Cigarettes, drink, fake goods, all that kind of thing, but until recently, no drugs. However, Dale raises the stakes by venturing into drugs but doesn’t raise their payoff and the drivers, who are now taking bigger risks, are pretty pissed off about it. Somewhere along the line, in the last few months, apparently, Dale teamed up with a bigger organisation and that is where the trouble has come from.

  ‘They all found themselves under the cosh from London, including Dale. The driver reckons that Dale’s lost control of his own operation, somehow. Anyway, there’s a lot of ill feeling and, I understand, that the two drivers picked up last night can’t co-operate fast enough, now. They’re desperate to tell everything! It’s like a competition!’ He heard more paper sounds down the phone.

  ‘Phew! It’s all happening up here! Now, tonight’s notes. You’ll like this, I think. Your mystery man has turned up! Not in the flesh, but in the investigation. I’ve managed to get to talk to another driver, nobody cares anymore now the game’s up. He’s a heavy, your man, an enforcer, for this London Mob, according to this driver, and first appeared on the scene about three months ago, maybe a bit more. Pretty nasty piece of work, too, by all accounts. Three of the drivers had an ‘interview’ with Dale and ‘some smooth guy from London’ who brought with him your man and a couple of others. The other two have been around regularly since then, keeping an eye on things for their masters, but your man only reappeared once. And, when he did, he was looking for Alan Harper! He went through the whole depot with this photograph tackling everyone he could find. The drivers were intrigued ‘cos Alan Harper worked with Dale for a while didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, now the police want to know what connects Alan Harper with a London drugs gang. So, be careful, John. I have a feeling that there is more to your friend Alan than meets the eye!

  ‘Anyhow, the funny thing is, the Squad only discovered Dale’s Transport when they were tailing your man from London and followed him up here last month. If he hadn’t come looking for Alan Harper Dale would probably still be operating. He doesn’t know that, of course. But Mrs Dale has been bailed and is still spitting blood and fur in every direction. She’s blamed the whole thing on Alan Harper, saying that he’s set her husband up after he was fired. That doesn’t strike me as being very likely, does it you?’

  ‘No.’ How much should he tell her?

  ‘Any way, that’s it for the moment. I’ll get another update shortly and let you know. OK?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks, Heather.’ They both hung up.

  Tobin sat for a moment, dazed. He realised Hazel was standing beside him holding a mug of coffee. She said nothing but looked concerned, her eyebrows raised. He took a deep breath and blew it out sharply through pursed lips.

  ‘Thanks.’ He said, thoughtfully. He looked at his scrap of paper and was about to explain the phonecall when the phone rang again. He leant back to allow Hazel to answer it, she immediately handed it over to him.

  ‘John!’

  ‘Yes, Teri?’

  ‘You must come back! There’s all manner of stories flying round up here. You won’t have heard down there yet, but … ‘

  ‘I have actually. Dale’s has been done by the Drugs Squad.’

  ‘Oh!’ Her disappointment was obvious.

  ‘We, … you, have to find Alan.’ He tried to distance himself from it all, without much hope. ‘He’s in great danger. The guy who looks like him is a cousin carrying a grudge from years ago. And, I have heard some of the stories from up there and we need to let Alan know about Dale. You must try and phone everywhere you can think of in France to find him. OK?’

  ‘Does that mean you’ve found out who Alan really is?’

  ‘Er … Yes. But, it’s far too complex to start explaining now and particularly not over the phone. We need to find Alan and warn him, fast.’

  ‘Well, you tell me first who he is then I might … ‘

  ‘Teri!’

  ‘Well, how did you know what was happening up here? I’ve been trying to get you all day and all I get is that smooth woman. Who is she?’

  ‘You have been talking to Hazel, she’s … my uncle’s wife. And, I know what’s happening up there because Heather Millin from the paper has kept me up to date. Her boyfriend…. Well, anyway, let’s not worry about that, find Alan, will you? Please!’ He thought how unwise it would be to tell her about Heather’s boyfriend while Teri was in her current petulant mood; he had made that mistake before. ‘Where are you, now?’ There was a silence at the other end. ‘Teri! Are you in Newcastle or Longalnbury?’

  ‘Newcastle.’

  ‘Good. Now will you see if you can find Alan? I’ll pay the phone bill, if that’s a problem. Just use International Directory Enquiries. But you’ll have to be quick, it’s getting late in France, no
w.’

  ‘OK.’ The phone went dead.

  ‘That sounded like hard work.’ said Hazel, standing behind him.

  ‘Very. She can be one spoilt brat when it comes down to it. That’s Teri, Rebecca, Alan’s stepdaughter. Well, put it this way, she is the daughter of the woman who last married someone calling himself Alan Harper! For once I’m going to ask for a drop of Russell’s best, I need it!’

  Over the glass, and a further two in quick succession, Tobin brought them up to date on his phone calls and the finer details of the day’s trip to London.

  His earlier weariness disappeared when Tobin finally got to bed and he paced about unable to sleep and unable to decide what to do. Russell’s brandy had taken effect. He sat by the window, staring out at the night and forced himself to concentrate.

  If Teri couldn’t locate Alan should he try and find him? But how? Or should he just go home? If bigger things were happening, maybe his little misdemeanours would attract less attention. And, after all, going back to work was more beneficial in the long run than the wild goose chase he had embarked upon. He couldn’t change anything. Alan Harper was still Jimmy Mitchell, he couldn’t change that; he had fled the country, that couldn’t be changed; and, he was being chased by someone that Tobin had no control over. He had spent a lot of time and energy, and lost a lot of work and money in the process, achieving what? Alan could look after himself; his head told him to return north, home.

  But, his heart had different ideas, go south.

  He wandered down to the kitchen and made himself some hot milk in the microwave. Standing in the dark kitchen he was watching the nearly full moon lighting the treetops behind the house when the telephone rang, deafeningly. He instinctively grabbed for the instrument on the wall beside the back door.

  ‘John?’

  ‘Yes, Teri! Do you realise what time it is?’ He demanded looking at the clock on the microwave to check himself.

  ‘Yes. It’s one-o-clock. You wanted me to do this!’

  ‘OK! OK! Did you find him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But…’ She paused, for effect.

  ‘Yes?’ Bloody infuriating woman!

  ‘There’s no need to be like that!’ She stopped again.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘I think I was being put off. It just sounded strange. Know what I mean?’

  ‘I know what you mean. Look stick close to your phone tomorrow, we’ll have to work out what we’re going to do. OK?’ He laid great emphasis on the collective ‘we’. ‘I’m suddenly very tired.’

  ‘OK.’ There was an exaggerated resignation in her voice. She hung up.

  On his way back to his room Tobin met Hazel in the dark on the stairs.

  ‘Just what I was going for,’ she pointed to his drink. ‘Too much brandy before bed. Who was on the phone?’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. Teri can’t find Alan, but thinks she’s being put off. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Tobin was dreaming about trying to photograph a woodpecker when Hazel shook him awake.

  ‘Nick! Wake up. I’ve been hammering on your door. There’s an urgent phone call for you! I can’t make sense of who it is, but she’s very agitated.’ He stumbled from his bed into a dressing gown and padded down the stairs barefoot.

  ‘Hallo?’

  ‘Mister Tohbeen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is Isabella.’ He was caught off guard and had to think for a moment.

  ‘Oh! Yes! I’m sorry, Isabella. What’s the problem?’

  ‘Is Bernie. He gone, Marie very upset.’ Isabella’s accent had become much stronger over the phone. She was under obvious stress and her voice broke as she explained. ‘He come home from work at six this morning and pack his bag. A car come for him and he go.’

  ‘He got a taxi?’

  ‘No. He drive. He sign a paper for car.’

  ‘A hire car?’

  ‘Yeah! Yes. I check his room. He has took passport and licence and Marie very sorry she not tell you about France map, he take that, too.’

  ‘Well, thanks for telling me this, Isabella. Tell Mrs Mitchell I’ll look after things. It will all be OK. All right?’

  ‘OK.’ She didn’t sound too convinced, neither was Tobin, she hung up.

  Tobin wandered into the kitchen and slumped into a chair at the table, he rubbed his eyes hard and yawned. Russell and Hazel were watching him when emerged bleary eyed from behind his hands. ‘It looks like Bernie has left on the trail of Alan Harper, or Jimmy Mitchell. And we can’t find him to warn him.’

  ‘Has he gone on his own account,’ Russell pondered aloud, ‘or has he been sent by his bosses because they believe the idea that Harper has informed on their operation?’

  Tobin sat up sharply, he hadn’t thought beyond what seemed obvious, to him; that Bernie was after his cousin Jimmy.

  ‘How does he know where to go?’ asked Hazel.

  ‘He’s obviously managed to pick up the information, somewhere. He’s got a French road map. So he obviously knows where he’s going.’ Thought Tobin, aloud, and thinking further about Teri’s flat. ‘He must have got it from Teri’s flat. I don’t think he could have got it from anywhere else, or he wouldn’t have come all that way north in the first place. And, I can’t think that anyone else would know of Alan Harper, unless there is someone else is on a parallel trail to us that we haven’t come across, yet.’ He dismissed the thought. ‘No. Who else would have need or cause to find out? I’m sure there can only be me and Teri who know; plus you two and the Norris’s detective agency.’

  ‘There are two more,’ added Hazel, ‘whoever broke into your flats, Bernie being one of them.’

  ‘I think there is one more person that you are overlooking, Nick, Rosemary Harper. Something caused her to go looking in Nottingham. What? And how close had she got?’

  ‘She couldn’t have known, she died before the Norrises could tell her anything,’ declared Tobin, confidently.

  ‘You are presuming she knew nothing when she went there, but she must have known something or she would not have gone specifically to Nottingham. What made her suspicious in the first place?’ Said Russell patiently, emphasising each word with a tap of his forefinger on the table.

  Tobin chose not to hear. ‘I’ll bet it was Bernie who broke in to Teri’s flat. There were only two places where that kind of information was available, our flats!’ He nodded to Hazel, acknowledging her contribution. ‘He didn’t do mine, because he was standing outside watching. But, Teri’s would have given him all that he needed to start looking.’

  ‘He could have got information from the Harper’s house,’ added Russell, ‘if he had been there.’

  ‘Do you mean he could have killed Rosemary?’ Asked Hazel, showing she wasn’t far behind in the argument.

  ‘That’s possible, too. It might explain why the place was wiped clean.’

  ‘If that is the case, then your friend Alan is in grave danger,’ said Hazel, regarding Tobin with a look of concern.

  The phone rang. Hazel stepped into the hall to answer it and returned with the cordless handset for Tobin.

  ‘Your reporter friend.’

  ‘Thanks. Hallo, Heather?’

  ‘Hi! Have I got news for you!’

  ‘There’s more?’

  ‘You bet. Dale’s still missing but they’re stepping up the hunt this morning. He’s wanted now in connection with the deaths of Rosemary Harper and Julie Lambert! It was his thumbprint on the glass in Rosemary’s dishwasher, and, ‘a very observant police officer’,’ she said with great pride, ‘while checking Julie Lambert’s house, wondered why the toilet seat was up in a house occupied by a single lady. When it was checked there was the same thumbprint on the underside! Comparisons with prints from Dale’s place threw up a match. It was him, in both places!’r />
  ‘That very observant police officer wouldn’t be your Steve, would it?’

  ‘Well, as it happens … , anyway, further searches have found a neighbour over the back of Julie’s house who saw Dale sneaking in during the afternoon, timed between the two visits of Alan Harper.’ Tobin was deep in thought, staring out of the window. ‘Are you still there? You don’t sound particularly thrilled!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I was thinking about Teri and if she’s safe up there on her own.’

  ‘Ah! Well, there’s the next surprise. Mrs Dale was bailed yesterday by her sister. Who most people know as Mrs Mayhew.’

  ‘The neighbour?’

  ‘The same!’

  ‘And Dale’s still missing?’

  ‘Yes. Apparently the police did make that connection and check the Mayhew’s house last night but there was no sign of him. And I had a little snoop there this morning; I thought I would check on your friend for you.’ Did he detect a little irony in her voice there? ‘I don’t know where she was, she couldn’t have been far away as her car was in the unlocked garage still warm.’

  ‘What kind of car?’

  ‘A red Vauxhall hatchback.’

  ‘That’s not her car. Was there only one car in there?’

  ‘No. There was two cars, that one and a dusty Mini’

  ‘So where is Alan’s car? Teri wouldn’t drive it. I think you had better tell your policeman, and he can earn himself some brownie points telling McColl. Alan’s car is missing, it’s a Mercedes, and I would lay money on it not being with Teri; who I think you will find is at home in her flat in Newcastle.’ He repeated the number from memory. ‘I’ll phone her now as well. I’m worried, Dale’s a wild man and if he can’t get to Alan Harper he’s quite likely to go for the next best thing. Especially now he has nothing to lose.’ But, there was no answer from Teri’s phone when he rang.

  The Mercedes slid into a parking space outside the large stone built house. Brian Dale checked the address on the scrap of paper on the passenger seat and got out. He had obtained the address from the office of Intercon Cuisine after he had kicked down the door. It was a shame that the young warehouseman wouldn’t help him and that he had to be so rough with the boy, but there was a lot at stake; principally Dale’s life! The curtains at a window on the top floor twitched back and a pale face under red hair looked down at the car. He rang one of the bells on the plate by the door and the buzzer sounded immediately, releasing the security lock. Dale entered and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, barging through the flat door as Mrs Gould began to open it.

  Bernie Mitchell sat in his hire car queuing for the ferry at Dover reading the inside cover of his French road atlas. His driving experience was minimal, but he had not dared to mention that when his boss had instructed him to find and silence Brian Dale. He had quickly reasoned that Dale would try and follow Jimmy Mitchell and that the trail would take him to France. He had gambled on getting ahead and finding Jimmy, then dealing with Dale when he caught up. He was quite proud of his reasoning and had every confidence in it.

  But Bernie had less confidence in his driving and was now having second thoughts as he sat, waiting, reading and thinking. He spoke no French at all, his mastery of his own language was pretty poor and he had been brought up with a dislike of all foreigners; his driving experience since leaving gaol had been limited to an occasional weekend, and was non-existent for the previous few years. The car he had been given was far bigger, and more powerful, than anything he had ever driven in his life before, it was also automatic; and now he was trying to understand French driving rules; giving way to the right, in some circumstances only, had him baffled. And, how he was going to cope with driving on the wrong side of the road he did not know. The queue began to move.

  Tobin tried to reach Teri at her flat again and then tried the Harper’s house in Longalnbury with the same result. Heather’s phone was engaged. He sat in the kitchen, frustrated, trying to make casual conversation with Russell and Hazel. He was restless and obviously concerned for Teri’s safety.

  Russell disappeared into his study to sort and copy his notes from the Mitchell brothers case. Tobin sat at the table and wrote up his notes from Heather’s phonecalls and his London visit.

  The phone rang and they all grabbed the nearest receiver to them and answered at the same time.

  ‘Hallo.’ ‘Hullo.’ ‘Hello.’

  ‘John?’

  ‘I’m here Teri. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at my mother’s. John, someone has been in the house, I can tell.’

  ‘Did they break in?’

  ‘Not that I can see.’

  ‘Have you looked in the garage?’

  ‘No. Hold on.’ He heard her opening a door and walking outside. Why on earth hadn’t he called her mobile phone? What a fool. ‘Ooh! Where’s that come from? Did you know? How?’

  ‘Someone was concerned for you and came to look for you this morning and found it. Look, it’s not safe for you up there. We think you would be better off down here, for the time being at least. Or,’ He said, thinking aloud,’ if you still can’t find Alan by phone we should go and look for him ourselves.’ He looked to Russell for his agreement as he thought. Russell’s eyebrows rose, but, he just shrugged with a compliant gesture. ‘Have you got the phone numbers with you?’

  ‘Yes. I’m not leaving anything lying around these days!’

  ‘Good. Try each one once more, just once. If there is no luck ring me back. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ He hung up before she started asking anymore awkward questions.

  ‘She won’t find him,’ Tobin declared. ‘He’s decided to disappear and in a place the size of France that’s probably quite easy.’ Then why was he proposing to go himself? He paced about for five minutes. The phone rang. He didn’t bother waiting for someone else to answer.

  ‘John? There’s no reply from the office, but his friends at the house nearby say they haven’t seen him. And, the café in Les Deux Alpes haven’t seen him either, though they were very abrupt.’

  ‘Never mind. Pack up and secure the place there. I’m going to phone and arrange for you to get the key to my flat, I need some things collecting. George Ibbotson has the key to do some repairs, so, when you pick up my key you can leave yours and we’ll get all those locks changed, too. Ring me when you’re ready to go. Bring your passport, fancy a trip to France?’

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