Consequences (7 page)

‘Think...think Larry,’ he said out loud. ‘Get off the road.’ He drove into the supermarket car park. It got him out of sight and in a crowd. Reversing into the garage forecourt he got out and inspected the damage. Bending down on his haunches, he sighed. That was a fair dent the stupid old git had made in his car. ‘Urgh’, he thought, pulling a face. Was that blood he could see?

‘Why hadn’t the silly old sod looked where he was going?’ he muttered as he walked to the kiosk. He queued up; picking up some mints and a car wash token.

‘Six quid? I only want to wash my car love, not buy a new one,’ he moaned to the cashier.

‘There are two cheaper programmes, love, if you want one,’ she snapped, oblivious to his attempt at a joke.

‘Don’t do cheap, love.’ he winked before walking out.

He sat in his car as the heavy brushes pummelled the roof, and water lashed at his windscreen. It wasn’t his fault. The daft old git should have looked where he was going. Larry felt warm and clammy, panic engulfed his body. Oh, my God, what was he going to do?

An ambulance with flashing lights faced him as he pulled out of the entrance to the supermarket car park. Unbeknown to Larry, paramedics were struggling to keep the elderly man alive. Fred White was a well-known local boxer in his time but was now facing the biggest fight of his life.

Larry drove slowly back to the station and parked his car on a side street nearby. Striding into the station, his mind was working overtime. The old man had been alright, he hadn’t run him over. Dylan was heading towards him down the narrow corridor. Thrusting his hand in his pocket he found a handkerchief and held it to his mouth.

‘Thought you were off to see an informant,’ said Dylan. ‘Good- grief you look dreadful. What on earth did the dentist do? You’re as white as a ghost.’ Larry leaned against the wall, pressing the hankie tighter over his mouth. He’d only hoped it would cover the smell of ale but, trying not to smile, he quickly jumped on Dylan’s unexpected reaction.

‘He’s only gone and done a bloody extraction.’ Larry groaned. ’I thought I was okay...the informant never showed and I didn’t feel like hanging about. Ah, God it kills.’

‘You better get home,’ Dylan said, deciding to postpone the reprimand he had intended to deliver. Dylan felt for him; probably because of his own phobia of dentists.

What a morning Larry had; he needed some more anaesthetic, which he knew he could find at the Kings Head. His face hurt all right, not from the dentist, but from the copper who’d had a swipe at him the previous night. ‘
You deserve a pint after pulling that one off,’
he told himself, but maybe he should go to the Armitage Arms on the other side of town.

Back in the office, Dylan asked Vicky and Tracy to try and find out what Chubby Connor was up to. He wanted to see if there was any evidence that would connect him with the garage job.

‘No problem.’ said Tracy, turning to the crime on the Crime Information System, on her computer. ’I’m on with it now, sir.’

   ‘Were we that keen when we started, boss?’ asked Vicky gloomily.

‘Probably,’ he leant closer. ‘But your coffee’s better for practice,’ he said.

‘Hint taken,’ she said. ‘You’re such a smooth talker and’ she whispered in his ear, ‘that aftershave you’re wearing boss is...heavenly.’ She breathed heavily.

Dylan laughed as he texted Jen. ‘
Hope your days going better than mine. Just had to send Larry home he’s had a tooth extraction. No DS’s now.’

‘That’s strange,’
she texted back. ‘
I could have sworn I’d just seen him going into the Armitage Arms. And there’s me thinking you were the Detective.’

‘I am… He went home.’

‘He certainly didn’t… go see for yourself. He’s probably still there.’

‘Sir, there’s been a hit and run; an old man called Fred White. He’s critical and in A & E, we’re just being told.’ Tracy called from the office.

‘Forget Chubby, Vicky. You and Tracy go to the scene to see if you can assist, in case it’s a stolen car or a deliberate knockdown.’

 Dylan could have done with a DS at the scene but he knew Vicky was quite capable. He needed to get to the Armitage Arms to see with his own eyes if his officer had lied to him. On the one hand he hoped Larry was there, then he could get the help he needed for his drinking. On the other, he hoped Larry hadn’t lied to him. But he was going to confront him about his issues.

Liz paced the floor. ‘What’s the twat playing at?’ she said, her nerves turning to anger. Desperately she tried the controlled breathing she’d been taught at Pilates, knowing she needed to be focused and calm when the blackmailer rang again. What was it Larry had said? She had to get details and delay matters so that she could discuss it with him before she made any rash promises. Her eyes flew to her pen and paper on the work surface.
Write it down so you get it right,
he’d said.

Although she’d been expecting the call, when the phone rang she nearly jumped out of her skin, snatching it off its cradle.

‘Hello?’ she said, her voice wobbled with emotion.

‘Listen very carefully. I’ll say this only once. Do you understand?’ Liz nodded, silently. The voice of the blackmailer was surreal- like something out of a movie.   ‘Yes,’ Liz finally managed. Her mouth was so dry, she struggled to speak.

‘You’d better not have told anyone about our chat.’

‘I haven’t...I wouldn’t...Look...I just want this to be over.’ Her hands were shaking so much she could hardly hold onto the phone.

‘I believe you, but if you’ve lied to me you won’t live to regret it. Do you know what I’m saying? It’s not a game.’

‘I haven’t...I won’t...I promise, please...trust me.’

‘So, let’s get it over with,’ he said quietly. ‘You will go to the bank and withdraw five hundred thousand pounds.’

Liz gasped, ‘I…’

‘Don’t bother,’ he snapped. ‘I know you’ve got the money so don’t fuck me about, otherwise I will enjoy the consequences. You will get it as soon as they open. In fifties, and take it home. I’ll call you with your next instructions.’

‘But …’

‘Just...do it.’ he shouted. She held the phone away from her ear. When she put it back, he’d hung up.

Larry was on his second pint. ‘j
ust had a call, he wants half a million. Do I call the bank now?’
Liz texted.

‘Can you raise half a million?’

‘Yes’
she texted back.

‘Then ring.’
He could see the smile that crossed his face reflected in the mirror, magnified through the bottom of his glass as he drained it.

‘Wow.’ he gasped, slamming the empty glass on the bar. What he could do with five hundred thousand pounds; that was ten times more than his pension. He knew the Reynolds’ had a penny or two, but he never knew they were able to lay their hands on that kind of cash. Well there was an old Yorkshire saying: W
here there’s muck there’s brass.
Liz Reynolds was looking more attractive to him by the minute. He’d have it all sorted before he went on holiday. His mobile home was booked and Larry was more than ready for a break this year, out of the country. ’Maybe she’d like to come along,’ he mused.

The pub was getting busy and he decided it was time to move on. There was a CID course at training school, so he thought he’d have a drive over and see if any would-be detectives felt like buying him a drink. If he got lucky he could always blag a room for the night, or use Dylan’s old one now he was living permanently with Ms Jennifer Jones from the admin office. He’d cajole the reception staff into letting him in, no problem.

Dylan drove to the Armitage Arms. Larry had long gone, if it had been him? For now he would give him the benefit of the doubt. Jen was impressed when she heard Dylan’s key in the front door; he was on time for once. He’d no cover with all his DSs out of action, so although there was a high risk of a call-out, at least for the time being he was home; and she knew he would have a warm meal inside him tonight.

 ‘Did you catch Larry, Jack, or was he only there for a swift one?’ she said as he walked in the kitchen. Max fussed around Jack’s feet.

 ‘If it was him, Jen,’ he said, putting his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder, as she stirred the liquid in the pan. The delicious smell of soup was overwhelming as it r
eminded him of his childhood and his mother’s kitchen.
He sneakily reached from behind her, grabbed a homemade warm bread roll from the basket and dipped it into the liquid.

‘Hey you.’ she tapped his hand. ’It was him. What about poor Fred? He’s gravely ill it says on the news. What an awful thing to happen to such a lovely chap. Just tell me how anyone could knock someone down and flee like that?’

That night they snuggled up on the sofa. Pretty Woman was on TV, for what seemed like the zillionth time to Dylan. Jen never tired of it. Dylan watched her lovingly as she tilted her head and smiled at the screen, playing each of the actor’s parts, in her head. Her long blonde hair caught the light from the lamp, and it shone. Her skin looked peachy soft and beautiful, almost glowing in the firelight. He felt for her hand as she savoured her favourite moments and Dylan knew, as always, she would cry at the end; this time just as the phone rang.

‘Sod’s law.’ Dylan said, raising his arm. Jen sat up to blow her nose on the hankie he’d struggled to extract from his trouser pocket.

‘Good evening, sir. It’s the duty officer at force control.’

‘Where am I going?’ he said, reaching for a pen and paper from the coffee table.

‘Nowhere sir. I’ve been asked by the Deputy Chief to inform you of the arrest of one of your officers.’

‘Who?’ asked Dylan, startled.

‘DS Larry Banks.’

Dylan’s jaw dropped. Jen looked at him puzzled. It wasn’t Jack’s usual expression when he got a call-out. Her tears quickly halted. She blew her nose noisily.

‘You still there, sir?’

‘Yes’ he said quietly, staring into Jen’s eyes, and for once, he was lost for words. ’What the hell’s happened?’

‘He was arrested for drink-driving and failing to stop, as well as driving off from an injury accident, just before lunchtime today. An eighty-two year old man, by the name of Fred White, is seriously ill in hospital.’

‘You’ve taken the wind out of my sails. I mean he went to the dentist and then I sent him home, but my other half did say she’d seen him...and …’

‘His car is damaged and has been impounded for further examinations. We have a witness who saw it leaving the pub car park where the accident occurred. At this time he’s about four times over the legal limit, so he’ll be staying in custody overnight. That’s about all I can tell you at the moment.’

‘I understand...thank you,’ Dylan said, as he slowly replaced the receiver. He shook his head and lay back on the settee’s cushions, closing his eyes. He sighed. Jen sat on the edge of the sofa and looked at him, waiting patiently for an explanation.

‘Larry, the stupid, stupid man has gone and got himself locked up for OPL.’

‘Driving over the limit, you can’t tell me that’s a surprise Jack?’

‘Not only drinking and driving but he’s the one who knocked down Fred White.’

Jen shook her head sadly.

‘I believed him,’ he said.

‘And what else has he been lying to you about, if he can lie about something like that?’

‘I don’t know but I’ll bloody well find out. If I’m completely honest with you, I knew he had a drink problem and I didn’t do anything about it. I was too wrapped up...He’ll lose his job and his pension and I’ll be served with forms for failing to supervise. The press will have a field day. What a nightmare.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Jack. If you must worry, worry about Fred lying in hospital, and his wife and family. Not that bloody idiot. He might have killed...Larry’s only himself to blame...I’ve no flaming sympathy for him,’ she said, standing up briskly. ’Do you want a drink?’ she snapped, her hand on the doorknob of the lounge door. Dylan stared passed her.

‘He might get help now.’

‘Help? And he might have killed Fred, so the help he needs might be time inside.’

Jack said nothing.

‘He could have stopped, tried to help Fred, Jack. But he went for yet another drink, I saw him. I told you I did. Do you want to blame yourself for everybody’s mistakes? Does that make you feel better? Jesus Christ, he ran somebody over who might yet die,’ she shouted.

Jen managed to hold back the tears as she opened the door and marched to the kitchen. Memories of the phone call to notify her of her mother’s accident, all too raw. Dylan followed her.

‘I know. I know what you’re saying. I’m sorry love, but maybe I could’ve prevented it all from happening. I was gonna talk to him today about his behaviour, but he looked in so much pain. So I thought it would keep.’

With tear filled eyes, Jen reached into the cupboard for the mugs. Dylan leaned on the breakfast bar opposite her and reached out his hand for hers. The kettle whistled as she brushed the top of his head with her hand and leaned forward for a kiss, not bothering to wipe away the tears that ran down her face. She knew no matter what she said, he’d have a restless night until he’d spoken to Larry.

‘I trusted him Jen, like I trust all my officers. He used to be so dedicated. Where...when did it all go wrong?’ His stomach churned. He pushed aside a piece of Jen’s homemade parkin that she offered him and she tutted.

‘It’s not your fault, Jack. Put it to bed, ‘till tomorrow at least, and pray for Fred; that would be more use than worrying about bloody Larry.’

Dylan hung his head.

‘He conned you as well as everyone else, and he’s old enough and big enough to know what he’s doing. Please let’s just go to bed and see what tomorrow brings.’