Beyond Innocence (6 page)

Jim West had left his boss in his office and he was driving alone to Walton Gaol where he was going to interview Royston Chambers, an old lag whom he had put away many times before. He had telephoned the prison before he set out in order that Chambers could be informed of his impending visit and dwell upon the implications of it. Over the years Chambers had operated as a paid informer to the police and he was one of Jim West’s own snouts. This time however Chambers was in big trouble as it looked like he was going to go down for a long time on the aggravated assault and burglary charges he was facing. In the circumstances, Jim West reasoned, it might just be the right time to call in a few markers and, Roy Chambers fitted the bill nicely.

Meanwhile, many miles away, a train was pulling slowly into Paddington Station. Today, Quentin Russell was not in his usual hurry to make his way to the Commons’ tea bar. Today he wanted to take his time in order that he could plan his strategy with the MP he was going to meet. Last night, he had received a tip- off, from one of his most impeccable sources that a member of the house might be implicated in the death of Angela Clarkson, a Liverpool prostitute, found murdered on the Wirral.

Quentin Russell was seen by many of his colleagues as a political assassin but he always played the game fairly and squarely. He never pursued or persecuted anybody unfairly or without just cause or reason. He didn’t have to because his sources of information were always spot on. Some people said quite openly that he must have a mole within cabinet circles but he never gave anything away and preferred instead to leave his other political reporter colleagues floundering in his wake. It was academic to him anyway because he would never disclose his primary source even if he’d wanted to, due to the fact that he had never met her. He only knew her by the name she had chosen – Rose. In this instance, it was late last night when the call came on his mobile requesting him to contact one of his MP colleagues in order to ask him to put down a question in the House. In return for this, Quentin Russell knew that the Member would put down his question at Prime Minister’s question time. The question would be asked and, as a result, Quentin would have secured a political scoop for his paper. Furthermore, his political nose told him that this might well be a case that could run a long, long way. Who knows? He mused, it might even outrun the Profumo affair or, even the Stonehouse scandal.

Now he was entering the tea-rooms and, he could see his appointed companion already seated. He quickly joined him and told him what he knew. Arrangements were put in place so that he would be advised the night before the question was to be asked, then the following morning his paper would publish an unsubstantiated claim that a Member of the House might have something to hide in connection with an ongoing murder enquiry. He quickly left his colleague in order to circulate swiftly around the room, having a quick word here, a quick word there, hearing all the latest gossip and, generally trying to see if there was anything further to be gained. It was very obvious from his roaming that, as usual, he was out on his own on this one but, as far as he was concerned, that was only to be expected as he already knew that his contact, Rose, was the best in the business.

Although Rose and her information might be excellent, little did Quentin Russell know that in this instance, she would prove to be far too good for herself, himself and the paper’s editor! By the time this story concluded, there would be a lot of people cast by the wayside, unable to continue in their chosen field of employment. At the end of the day, Timothy Harris MP would have a lot to answer for.

In Lancashire, Jim West was getting out of his car in the reserved parking area for special visitors to Walton Gaol. He patted his pocket to make sure he still had the watch in his possession which would form a crucial part of his investigations later in the day. Then he strode purposely forward to greet Alexander Fulton the Assistant Governor, who was waiting outside to greet him. He ushered Jim inside and escorted him to his office. Alec knew the purpose of Jim West’s visit and he made arrangements for Roy Chambers to be brought to the office where he intended to leave the two men alone in order that the detective sergeant could endeavour to elicit the information he required safe from prying eyes and wagging tongues and ears. There was a slight knock on the door and in answer Jim West swiftly called out, “come in.” Roy Chambers immediately entered the room. A quick glance around the room told the hardened criminal he was alone with Jim West, Alec Fulton having left by an interconnecting door. Jim West motioned to Roy to sit down then he began.

“Look Roy you don’t need me to spell it out for you this time but, I’ve got to tell you that I’ve already had a word on your behalf and my boss Peter Taylor is not prepared to give you a frigging inch. In fact, he’s quite adamant that when you get sent down this time, and you will get sent down, you will be looking at seven years at least. I’ve spent a lot of time arguing with him about how useful you’ve been in the past but he just will not listen to me. In some respects, I have to agree with him because you didn’t have to go on this last pissing job yourself. As you damn well know, you stupid bastard, you could have told us about it beforehand and then we could have picked you up the day before on something or other rather than simply lifting you and the others as we did at the scene. The difficulty I’m facing now, and this is how my chief sees it, you want to pick and choose which bleeding jobs you tell us about and, as far as he is concerned that just isn’t good enough. In a nutshell what he’s saying to both of us is, Roy Chambers, failed mobster, failed master criminal, has outlived his period of bleedin’ usefulness, and now that his sell-by date has expired, the pillock’s expendable. Jim West locked his fingers together and leaned forward across the wide desk in order to get a lot closer to his man. Looking the criminal straight in the eye he said, “I hope I am getting through to you, Roy. You do understand the seriousness of your position don’t you? I really have done my very best to help you but it’s really out of my hands now.”

Jim West leaned back in his comfortable chair in order to study his man intently. He could see clearly that his words were impacting dramatically on Roy Chambers and he could sense that, as far as Roy Chambers was concerned, this was just about the worst news he could ever have received. He knew that seven years was a long time and the sheer prospect of serving seven filled him with a deep sense of foreboding. In these circumstances he would be locked up for at least three years before being considered for parole. That prospect didn’t go down well with him at all. The most worrying aspect of all this was what might happen to him inside whilst he was doing those three years. After all, there were plenty of people already inside who had long suspected Roy Chambers of duplicity with the police and it wouldn’t take them long to exact a very painful revenge.

“Oh God,” he mumbled, as he realised that this was more than serious. In fact, this could well be the absolute end. Grey-faced and tight-lipped, he faced his accuser. He struggled for words as he stuttered and stammered, “What can I do, Mr. West? Is there something specific you want to know, some information perhaps about the St. Helen’s supermarket payroll heist? Just tell me, and I’ll let you know.”

Jim West leaned across the desk, and, locking his fingers together once again, he said as calmly as he could, “Roy, for Christ’s sake man. You haven’t been paying any bloody attention at all to what I have been saying have you, you stupid pillock? At this very moment, the last thing my boss wants to hear about is the St. Helen’s supermarket heist. I’ve taken time out myself to come here to tell you that you’re no longer on my bleeding payroll list and I can’t help you any longer. This is an unofficial visit by me as I’m only supposed to be here to interview this Thompson fellow; you know the guy we think murdered that prostitute Angela Clarkson and his girl friend. You know the one we fished out of the lake at Chorley Wood. My boss thinks that any time now he’ll be ready to confess because he’s never been inside a pissing cesspit like this before and this place soon becomes very overbearing indeed doesn’t it, Roy? By the way have you met him yet?

Roy Chambers shook his head before answering. “No. I’ve seen him about but I haven’t spoken to him. People are saying he’s probably off his bleeding trolley so me, and most of the other lads, tend to keep well away from him. Even in this place you have to be so careful.”

“That’s a load of bollocks,” said Jim, his face breaking into a wide grin.” There’s nothing wrong with him. What’s more I can assure you. If he was going to use that as a plea it would be down on the sheet now and I can tell you here and now that it bloody well isn’t. Off his bloody trolley that’s a load of bollocks and that’s official.” Now he was reaching for his coat, making out that he was preparing to leave. He kept his eyes on Chambers all the time waiting for the right moment to offer Chambers the bait then he knew he would accomplish the main purpose of his visit which was a confession from Thompson to Chambers which would go such a long way to ensure Thompson’s conviction. He moved slowly towards the door reaching unhurriedly for the handle. He could almost feel Roy Chamber’s eyes staring at his back, boring like laser beams through his body, almost pleading with him. “Please don’t go Jim. Please don’t leave me here, I’ll do almost anything, just tell me what you want.”

Judging and timing it to perfection, Jim West didn’t go.

He never intended to in the first place and now making it appear like an afterthought, he turned around and said quietly, “Listen Roy, there is something you can do, get us both off the hook so to speak. “Why don’t you get to know Thompson? We know he’s ready to cough so why not make friends with him and get him in a very talkative frame of mind? You see it’s like this. My boss is going to be more than pleased if Thompson confesses and, if I can tell him that Royston Chambers played a starring role in it, maybe, just maybe, I can stop him from leaning so hard on you. Obviously Roy, you must realise this is strictly unofficial and, I can’t promise you anything. You do understand that don’t you? Jim West saw the colour flooding back into the face of Roy Chambers and he knew that he had his man well and truly hooked. He also knew that when Chambers left the room, he would find that some excuse had already been made to place him in the next room to Harry Thompson. After that it would be easy, dead easy.”

It would be impossible to describe the relief felt by Roy Chambers when he heard those last words from DS West. Apparently, all Westy wanted him to do was to make friends with Harry Thompson and if Thompson let go any useful information regarding either of the girls, simply let old Westy know. Well that would be a cinch. In return for this, there was still a chance that good old Westy would put more than a good word in for him; in which case, he might not be staring seven years in the face any longer..,

Roy Chambers couldn’t agree quickly enough. He was so anxious and relieved to be off the hook he hardly heard Jim West saying, “I’ll pop along in a couple of days to talk to you about the supermarket job.”

Jim West’s face bore a satisfied smile all the way back to Merseyside Police HQ. As he drove, his mind went back over the meeting with Chambers and, each time the picture crossed his mind, he whispered to himself, “easy innit?” He parked his car in his reserved place and, after taking a quick look round, he set off walking towards Rodney Street. For the benefit of the uninitiated, Rodney Street is one of the places where the ladies of the night choose to walk and ply their trade. Quite often nowadays they can be found plying their trade during the day and this was why he was going there now. He told himself there wasn’t any time like the present and that this was as good a time as any to locate Bridget Riley and Theresa O’Rourke, two long-time associates of the late Angela Clarkson. Unfortunately, neither girl was anywhere to be seen on the streets so he walked around the corner and made his way into The Rugby Arms or, the Hookers as it was known locally especially in view of its close proximity to Rodney Street. His was a well-known face in this part of the town, and most of the regulars greeted him. Nearly all of them knew he was a copper and there were a number of people present who had had their collars felt by this big burly and uncompromising policeman. However today it was different. There were only two things on Westy’s mind and they were both sat in the corner drinking their double gins and tonics. He caught the eye of Alf the barman, who knew without being asked that he would be drinking a pint of bitter. He also motioned that he wanted two double gin and tonics for the two ladies in the corner. He didn’t give either of them a chance to see him coming. The first they knew about it was when the drinks appeared on the table followed by himself with his pint in hand.

He began talking before he actually sat down.

“Nice to see you, girls. I thought I might find you both in here so I decided I’d just call in for a chat, unofficial business like, you know. Both girls visibly relaxed at this and thanked Jim for their drinks as he continued, “Dreadful news about Angela wasn’t it – absolutely appalling and, what’s more, no need for it you know.” Both girls nodded in agreement and Bridget added, “She never deserved that, and the sooner the trade is licensed and properly supervised, the better it will be for everybody. As the drinks went down, the girls relaxed even more. By now they both realised that today Westy, or Jim, as they often called him, didn’t mean to run either of them in and he certainly wasn’t here to make small talk about their dear departed friend Angela. They were both streetwise and very smart. They knew Jim West wanted their help and assistance in some way otherwise the Black Maria would have carted them both off half an hour ago. Meanwhile, all Jim wanted was for the general noise in the bar to quieten down a little then they would find out the true nature of his visit and it would certainly involve Angela. A couple of gins later the bulk of the afternoon trade had gone. They were alone in the corner when Bridget decided it was time to act, “tell us what’s on your bloody mind Jim. Let’s face it, you haven’t come down here to spend all the bloody afternoon drinking with a couple of old pro’s so, let us be knowing what this visit is all about and what the hell it’s got to do with us. This is costing us money you know. Don’t forget whilst we’re in here, talking to you, we’re not getting frigging paid, and yet here we are paying our bloody corner into the bargain.”