Double Dealing (Detective Sergeant Catherine Bishop Series Book Two) (15 page)

29

Back in the car, they headed deeper into the estate. There was a strange, charged atmosphere on the Meadowflower, as if the whole place was holding its breath, waiting for the next violent outburst. It was always the same, each resident eyeing each other and the world in general with an air of suspicion. Row upon row of tightly packed red brick terraces were dotted here and there with squat, oblong buildings that contained six or eight flats.

  ‘My cousin lives along here.’ Nat glanced at a tiny elderly man who was hurrying along the pavement, clutching a shopping bag.

  ‘It’s not all bad.’

A tennis ball bounced across the road in front of them and Nat braked hard as a small boy darted out to retrieve it. When he reached the safety of the pavement, he turned and shouted after them, gesticulating as they drove past. Nat glanced in her rear-view mirror.

  ‘Not sure exactly what he was saying but the second word was “off.”’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘I’m surprised we haven’t seen Simmo yet.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘According to Control, he’s wearing a pink silk dressing gown.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yep. He went over the back fence and that’s all he had on.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘Trainers?’ Nat shrugged.

Catherine winced. ‘I’ll let you grab him then.’

  ‘Thanks, Sarge.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  ‘Aren’t we getting near his house anyway?’

  ‘Yeah. Hang on, there he goes.’

There was a flash of fuchsia pink as a figure shot by, followed by two male constables in hot pursuit. Nat pulled the car up onto the kerb, threw open her door and joined the chase.

  Several residents were hanging out of windows or standing on their doorsteps, pointing and laughing. Some joker had found the Benny Hill theme tune on the internet and was playing it full blast from their phone. Catherine hid a smile and slid into the driver’s seat of the patrol car. She executed a quick three-point turn, then sped back in the direction they had come from.

  Parking the car behind the wreckage of several burnt-out garages, she crept down a snicket that snaked between two blocks of terraces and waited, handcuffs at the ready. Within seconds, she could hear pounding feet and wheezing. Sure enough, Simmo appeared, his face almost the same colour as his dressing gown. He hurled himself into the alleyway, not noticing Catherine until it was far too late.

  ‘Wait, I . . .’ he spluttered just as Constable Nathan Collins rounded the corner and tackled him. The two men went down in a heap of stab vest, dressing gown, hairy legs and other flapping body parts that Catherine didn’t even want to think about. As soon as she could identify a pair of pink-clad wrists, she snapped the cuffs on them.

  ‘Evening, Simmo,’ she said, standing back as Nathan hauled a panting Simmington to his feet. ‘Nice outfit.’

  ‘She can’t stay there any longer.’ The boss flicked ash from his cigarette into a silver ashtray that perched on the corner of the table. ‘We need the room.’

The other two exchanged glances.

  ‘We’re carrying on with the operation?’ the older man asked. The boss glanced up.

  ‘Of course we are,’ he snapped. ‘What do you expect us to do, just pack it all in? There’s a fortune to be made here now that Dougie Hughes has gone and I’m not missing out on it. I want to make enough money to get myself over to Spain and set up in a villa. Living in luxury for the rest of your life, it doesn’t sound bad, does it?’’

  ‘But with the police involved . . . ?’

The boss stood up and marched over to them, hands on hips, glaring.

  ‘We wanted the body found, you know that. Forget about her. Even if they find out who she is, which I suppose they’re bound to, there’s nothing to link her to us. She’s the junkie girlfriend of a small time dealer, that’s all. The police need evidence, that’s what they work with, and they won’t have any.’ He turned back to the desk and stubbed out the cigarette as his mobile rang. ‘. . . You’re joking. Christ, I’m surprised he could run that far . . . Right. Okay, thanks.’ He put the phone back in his trouser pocket and turned to the two of them. The younger one glanced away. ‘Talk of the devil, Simmo has just been taken in by the police.’ His voice was calm, his eyes gleaming. ‘You know what that means, don’t you?’

  There was a silence. He waited for a few more seconds, then drove his fist into the gut of the younger man, who collapsed with a cry. As he hit the floor, a kick glanced off his ribs.

  ‘Fucking answer when I speak to you,’ the boss snarled. The older man didn’t look at his companion, keeping his eyes dead ahead. The boss stepped back and cracked his knuckles. ‘She needs to go. Do it tonight, just in case.’ He sneered at the man on the ground. ‘And you: learn some manners.’ He rocked back on his heels and lit another cigarette with a smile. ‘Now get out.’

30

‘This is police brutality, you know that, don’t you?’ Shaun Simmington held up his grazed palms for Catherine’s inspection.

  ‘No, Shaun, if we’d held you down and given you a kicking,
that
would be police brutality. What you have are accidental injuries sustained while resisting arrest when wearing a skimpy negligee.’

Shuffling in his seat, Simmington said, ‘It’s a robe, not a negligee. I was in bed, it was the first thing that came to hand. You think I’d normally wear one?’

Catherine pulled a face

  ‘I don’t even want to think about it, Shaun.’

  ‘I wasn’t resisting arrest either.’

  ‘Enough. I want to talk to you about Keeley Pearce.’

Simmington gave a lopsided grin.

  ‘Yeah, well, me and Keels have split up.’

  ‘Does she know that?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask her. She will when she comes back to the house and finds her mate Jade in my bed.’

Leaning forward, Catherine caught a whiff of dope and body odour.  Wincing, she sat back and took a breath of fresh air.

  ‘Does Keeley have a dentist?’

Simmington gawped
.
‘A dentist? How should I know?’

  ‘You live with her, don’t you?’

  ‘Her hygiene was never up to much, if you know what I mean.’ Simmington smiled and scratched his armpit.

  ‘So you don’t know?’

  ‘She’s got a toothbrush,’ he offered.

  ‘Well, that’s a start. We’ll be taking it then. There are officers at your house now.’

He sat up straight, eyes wide, pupils huge.

  ‘But I haven’t done anything.’

Catherine studied her fingernails.

  ‘That depends on your definition of “nothing”, doesn’t it? Running away from police officers looks a bit dodgy, wouldn’t you say? What will we find in your house? Scales? Plastic bags? A big roll of cash?’

Simmington squirmed. ‘Look, what do you want to know?’

  ‘Shaun, we have an unidentified body that we believe could belong to your girlfriend. What do you think I want to know?’

  ‘Wait a minute, there’s a body?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Keeley’s body?’

  ‘You tell me. She’s missing, isn’t she?’

He blinked a few times in confusion. ‘Well . . . I mean, she hasn’t come home.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to report that to someone? Say, I don’t know . . . us?’

  ‘But you’re the police.’ Catherine gave a few slow handclaps. Simmington blushed, his eyes roaming the ceiling. He licked his lips. ‘I didn’t think anything of it, I thought she’d just got fed up of me and gone.’ Simmington forced a laugh. ‘I’m not the best boyfriend in the world, I know that.’

  ‘You thought Keeley had left you? What about the children?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Well, they’re still at her mum’s.’

  ‘And?’ Simmington sniffed, raising a grubby hand to rummage around one nostril.

Catherine closed her eyes for a second, the urge to thump him almost overwhelming.    

  ‘Let’s start again, shall we? Did Keeley tell you where she was going?’

He looked away and one hand came up to scratch his ear. Catherine waited, knowing that whatever came out of Simmington’s mouth next would be a lie.

  ‘No, she didn’t.’

Catherine inclined her head. ‘Hmm. Really?’

  ‘I’ve just said so.’

  ‘And what if I said I don’t believe you?’

He ran his tongue over his lips.

  ‘Up to you. I can’t make you.’

  ‘What if I said I thought you knew exactly where Keeley was going, or at least what she was going to do?’

Simmington folded his arms in a pathetic attempt at defiance, treating Catherine to another whiff of his noxious armpits.

  ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘No thanks, I’ve had a good look at yours once today already.’ She fixed her eyes on his face, holding his gaze. ‘It’s about drugs, isn’t it, Shaun?’ He stared at her, eyes wider than ever. ‘Who was she carrying them for?’

He shook his head, terrified. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Do you have a little stash in your house somewhere? Personal use, is it? Or are you dealing now as well? Anything up to life in prison for that you know.’

  ‘I’m not dealing, I . . .’

  ‘So who is? Keeley was carrying coke, lots of it. Who for? Who was paying her, Shaun? Was it you?’

  ‘Look, I . . .’

  ‘No,
you
look. You could be facing a prison sentence here, a long one.’ She held up a hand and began to count on her fingers. ‘Obstructing a police officer. Wasting police time. Drug possession. Drug dealing.’

  ‘But I haven’t done anything,’ Simmington wailed.

She tipped her head to one side.

  ‘Indecent exposure.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Wearing a horrible pink dressing gown in a public place. You could get five years for that alone.’

He covered his face with his hands.

  ‘It was someone who worked at that factory with her. Worthy’s,’ he whispered.

Catherine’s eyes narrowed, not sure if she had heard him correctly.

  ‘What did you say?’ she demanded.

He stared at her, tears forming in his eyes, his hands trembling.

  ‘She worked there for a while, you must know where I mean. She said that someone there knew a way of making loads of money. When she told me what they wanted her to do I said no, no way, too risky. But . . .’At last he looked shamefaced. ‘Well, we were desperate for money. Things are so expensive these days.’ He glanced at Catherine to see if she was sympathetic, but her face hadn’t changed, so he stumbled on. ‘She said it was worth a try, that she could make more in a weekend than we would get in a year. The kids always need stuff and with Christmas on the way, well . . .’

Catherine felt her lip curling. ‘So you let her do it?’

  ‘I didn’t let her, it was her decision.’ He had the grace to look shamefaced.

  ‘Who organised it? Who’s behind it all?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Come on, Shaun,’ she scoffed.

  ‘I don’t! I swear on my mum’s life I don’t. She wouldn’t say, she didn’t want me to know in case . . .’ He spread his hands wide. ‘Well, in case of this.’

  ‘And you expect me to believe that?’

  ‘It’s true. She left on the Friday, said she’d be back on Monday morning, and off she went. She was really happy, said all our problems would be over.’ He sniffed again and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Catherine watched the performance, unimpressed. 

  ‘Who told her about it? At Worthy and Son, I mean?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Man, woman? Vegetable, mineral?’

  ‘What? I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. She was protecting me, like I told you.’

Catherine looked at him, not trusting herself to speak for a second.

  ‘You honestly don’t have a clue?’ Her voice was taut, the fury held in check, but only just. Simmington squirmed.

  ‘I don’t. I swear, I’ve no idea.’

She looked hard at him again. He seemed to be telling the truth, slumped in the chair now, defeated.

  ‘When was Keeley employed at Worthy’s?’

  ‘A year ago? Eighteen months? It was only for a few weeks, some sort of sickness cover.’

  ‘Did she ever mention a woman called Lauren Cook?’

  ‘Lauren? No, not that I remember.’

  ‘You’re sure? What about Mark Cook?’

  ‘No. Never heard of either of them.’

Catherine stood up, sick of the sight of him. Simmington frowned. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘For now. I’ve a home to go to.’

  ‘So is Keeley dead?’ He blinked a few times. ‘I know I’m a shit to her but I love her, you know?’

  ‘Of course you do.’ Catherine turned on her heel and marched out.

Dan Raynor set the magazine on the chair and got to his feet slowly, careful not to make a sound. He bent over his grandmother, kissing her cheek softly, laying his hand over hers for a second. As he left her bedroom, one of the care staff was passing and she smiled at him.

  ‘Is your nan asleep?’ she asked. He nodded.

  ‘Dropped off while I was reading to her. She seems better today.’ Even as he said the words and saw the woman’s reaction, the slight tightening of her smile, he knew it wasn’t true.

  ‘She has good days and bad.’

Dan nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

He walked quickly down the corridor and out into the car park. His nan didn’t have good days, not any more. Much as he hated leaving her here, he had no choice. She needed nursing now, care that he couldn’t provide at home. He had tried in the early days of her illness, much like he had with his mother, but in the end it had been too much. She had insisted on selling her bungalow and moving into the care home, though he had protested, not wanting strangers looking after her in the last months of her life. The standard of care was excellent though, at least as far as he had seen. A smile crept across his face as he shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting to cross the busy man road. No doubt Nan would have let him know if the food or the nurses weren’t up to scratch. The money from the sale of her little bungalow was quickly being eaten up by the nursing home’s fees, but he would never have told her. Soon he would have to pay for her care himself but again, that would remain a secret. He hurried across the road, hoping the rain would hold off until he reached home. He would do all he could to keep her comfortable, including any overtime he was offered. Not there was much of that anymore, but there were other ways to make money.

 
DCI Kendrick sat behind his desk, sipping from a mug of coffee.

  ‘Your friends left early again,’ he said to Knight.

  ‘Shea and Allan?’

  ‘They invited me into their little bolthole earlier,’ he smirked. ‘I told them if they wanted to speak to me, they could do it in here. They’re still going on about those bloody photos. I told them I knew nothing about it and that they were wasting my time. They didn’t stay long. Now,’ he looked at Catherine, ‘Simmington has given us another reason to go back to Worthy and Son?’

She nodded. ‘I thought I’d go myself after the morning briefing and take Anna and Chris with me.’

  ‘Fair enough. Right, what did Catherine miss while she was out playing kiss catch with Simmo?’

Knight smiled. ‘We’ve got Lauren Cook’s phone records, so Simon started going through them, and we’ve requested Keeley Pearce’s records too. We’ve also started looking into where Keeley has travelled over the last few years, but like Lauren Cook, it doesn’t seem as if she’s left the country recently. We’ve had confirmation that there’s been no activity on either of their bank accounts. We need to start thinking about where the drugs might have come from and where Keeley had been to get them. Did she travel in the back of a lorry, or under a different name? We think Lauren switched her phone off when she parked her car in the multi-storey because there’s no signal after that. Forensics have removed the car with Mark Cook’s permission, but as we know Lauren was fine when she left it, they’re just storing it for now. We have Keeley Pearce’s hairbrush and they’re fast-tracking the DNA sample to see if it matches that of our body.’

  ‘I think we’re all agreed it will.’ Kendrick’s voice was sombre. There was a short silence, and then he said: ‘We need to find Lauren Cook.’

  ‘Or her body,’ Catherine added.

  ‘Glass half empty, Sergeant?’ Kendrick asked. Catherine shrugged.

  ‘It’s a safe bet that Lauren’s gone off to earn a few grand in the same way Keeley Pearce did.’

  ‘Did they know each other?’ Kendrick asked.

  ‘Simmington says no. Mind you, I doubt he’d recognise his own family most of the time. He was coherent enough in the interview, but then he’s not been fully sober for years.’

  ‘Mark Cook doesn’t recognise Keeley’s name either, Anna phoned and asked him. Neither do Lauren’s parents,’ Knight added. ‘Lauren’s friends have never heard of Keeley and she and Lauren haven’t been in touch on social media or by using their mobiles as far as we can see. It’s a safe bet that they didn’t know each other, or at least not well.’

  ‘Are the Chantrys still staying with Mark?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Apparently so.’

She shuddered. ‘Poor bloke.’

  ‘We’re also looking into any other arrests of drug mules that have been made over the last couple of years, especially fairly locally,’ Knight said. ‘I’ve got Anna checking if anyone of interest has been released from prison recently, seeing if they’ve come straight back and started up their business again. No luck so far.’