Echoes of Justice (DI Matt Turrell Book 2) (13 page)

Chapter 42

Sam hated these places; the smell reminded him of school dinners with loads of cabbage and sweaty feet. He hated even more being frisked. It should be taken for granted that a police officer would not be bringing forbidden items into a prison. Finally, the officer gave a nod to his companion.

‘Follow me, sir.’

‘Thank you.’

The officer led Sam through several barred gates and corridors before finally stopping at a small room.

‘The first one’s here. Don’t think you’ll get much joy out of Doggy Smith. As soon as you’ve finished with him, we’ll bring you the next one.’

He opened the door and ushered Sam into a small room with minimum furniture, just a table and two chairs. Inside another prison officer stood with arms folded guarding an older man with greying longish hair. Sam wondered if his nickname came from his long face that had a sad hound dog look. ‘Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Mr Smith.’

‘Can’t do that with him there, can I.’ He nodded towards the guard.

Sam turned. ‘Do you mind?’

The guard grunted and went out.

‘What’s this about then? You gonna get me out of here?’

‘Sorry, I’m not here for that reason.’

‘Bugger it then. Call him back.’

‘You know that Vinny James isn’t serving the same sentence as the rest of you, don’t you?’

‘So?’

‘And that he’s out there enjoying all that freedom plus the money. Your money.’

‘He’ll be keeping it safe.’

‘Will he, though? Just think of all the expenses he’ll have keeping his head down. Who’s to know if he takes a little dip into funds now and again?’

‘He wouldn’t be so stupid. We’re not going to be in here forever. He’d have the four of us to answer to.’

‘You’d have to find him first.’

Doggy was silent for a moment and Sam could see he was thinking it over in his mind.

‘I know what you’re doing. You buggers are all alike.’

‘What am I doing, Mr Smith?’

‘You’re doing that splitting us up routine. I saw it on
Lewis
the other day. It ain’t gonna work. I can tell you that.’

Sam silently cursed all TV cop shows and changed track. ‘We’re not after the money, only Vinny.’

‘A likely story. Why chase him now?’

‘Because he’s back in the country and we believe he murdered a young lad.’

‘Why’d he do that?’

‘You might have heard that his son died. We think he’s out to avenge his death.’

‘Bloody hell. He’d do that. Never did let anyone cross him.’

‘So you see, he’s not really thinking straight and is hardly a careful guardian for your money.’

‘I ain’t worried about the money. Vinny’s got it all safely tied up.’

‘Someone to make it look clean?’

Before he could stop himself, Doggy nodded, then realised what he had done and tried to pull back. ‘Here, I didn’t mean that.’

‘It makes no difference to me. We only want to stop Vinny killing again. Of course, when we catch him, as we will, we’ll probably lock him up for a long time. You’d better be sure you know the particulars of who is handling the money. Vinny might be tempted to keep them to himself. If that happens you could be waiting thirty years or so.’

Sam was pleased to see Doggy’s face drop even further, but disappointed when he pushed himself away from the table and folded his arms.

‘You’re wasting your time with me. I ain’t talking.’

There was little left for Sam to do but signal for the guard to return and take Doggy away. While he waited for the other member of Vinny’s crew to arrive, he tried to think of a better approach. He had the feeling that this track wouldn’t be successful.

While waiting, Sam gulped a cup of the weak tea provided by the guard. It was at least hot and to some extent revived him. This and the knowledge that he would soon be out of there gave him renewed hope that was heightened when Pete Scunthorpe arrived. He was much younger than Doggy Smith and seemed nervous, twisting his fingers and refusing to look at Sam.

‘Good morning, Mr Scunthorpe.’

Pete nodded without looking up. Sam sought for a way to reach him. From reading about the robbery, he understood that Pete was the getaway driver and unlikely to have much inside knowledge about the job. He was also serving a shorter sentence than the others and due for release in two months.

‘I’m guessing you’re looking forward to getting out soon?’

‘Yes.’ Pete looked up.

‘Got any plans?’

‘Going home to me mum.’

‘Home-cooked meals. Lucky lad.’

‘Mmm.’

‘You’ve got a nice little stash tucked away. What are you going to spend it on?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Do you think Vinny has kept it safe?’

‘Said he would.’

‘And you trust him?’

Fed with doubt, Pete looked hard and long at Sam. ‘Had to.’

‘No choice then?’

Pete nodded again.

‘Pete, we’re looking for Vinny at the moment. We think he may have murdered a young man – about your age. Can you tell me anything about him, anything that would help us find him?’

‘No.’

‘If he wanted to keep all the money for himself, do you think he could do it?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘We’re not interested in the money, just Vinny. If you help us catch him, then your money would be safe for you to enjoy. I guess your mum could use a bit extra, couldn’t she? If you could give us any tips on where we might find him, it would look really good on your record.’

Pete was silent for a long time.

Sam prompted. ‘Do you know where your money is, Pete?’

‘Doggy said I weren’t to say anything.’

‘Do you always listen to Doggy?’

‘He’s my uncle.’

Sam sat back and sighed. This was a losing game, but at least they’d tried. The only information gained was that they’d used an intermediary to wash the money clean. Not much joy for nearly a day’s work. He was glad the rest of the gang were incarcerated further north. Maybe he wouldn’t have to visit them.

Chapter 43

By the time Matt left the office, it was later than he hoped and Mary was waiting for him with a tray set out with mugs and biscuits.

‘I’ve just got to boil the water. You will have a cup of tea, won’t you, Inspector?’

Matt wanted to refuse as he was longing for home and his dinner, but he hadn’t the heart to say no. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’ He waited while she boiled the kettle, thinking of how to break the news that her husband may be back. The last thing he wanted was to scare her. Once Mary returned with the teapot, he cleared his throat.

‘Is it bad news, Inspector?’

‘You may find it distressing, Mrs James.’

‘Then best to get it over with. And please call me Mary.’

‘When did you last see your husband?’

‘It must be over four years ago now.’

‘And you haven’t heard from him?’

‘No. I knew he’d escaped from the court, but didn’t think he would hang around here. Why are you asking?’

‘We think he may have heard about Jonathan’s death.’

‘Oh.’

Matt watched the colour drain from her face.

‘I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think he will come here?’

‘That’s why I’m here, Mary.’

‘Then you think it is a possibility?’

‘We’re just erring on the side of caution in wanting to protect you. Plus, we would like to pick up Mr James.’

‘He killed that lad, the one in the news, didn’t he? The one involved in the murder?’

‘David Beeson. What makes you say that?’

‘It’s just like him. Lashes out with his fists, thinks afterwards. He’ll be trying to find out who killed Jon. He’ll take it as a personal slight against himself.’

‘Have you any idea where he might be staying or who might be hiding him, Mary?’

‘No. He never confided in me and I never asked. Sorry.’

‘If Mr James does show up, or you do think of anything that might help us, please give me a call, day or night.’ Matt passed over his card. ‘My home number is there too. You won’t hesitate to call?’

Mary nodded in agreement and took the card, rising to place it behind the clock on the mantelpiece. Matt took the opportunity to rise.

‘It might be best if you stay somewhere else until Mr James is in custody. Is there anywhere you could go?’

‘No. I’m best here, it’s handy for work. And…and I can’t let him bully me anymore.’

‘Try not to worry, Mary. We have arranged to have a patrol car pass by every hour to keep an eye on you. If you’d like, I can assess your security?’

‘I think I’m pretty safe, but come and see for yourself.’

Mary led the way into the kitchen. The windows and doors had been upgraded to double glazing within the last few years. The windows had good locks, as did the kitchen door. As long as Mary kept them locked, she should be alright. Yet Matt knew nowhere was completely safe if someone was determined to get in.

‘Please make sure you keep everything locked, Mary.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘It’s just a precaution but it’s better to be on the safe side.’

She nodded, but didn’t seem reassured. Matt tried to imagine what it must be like knowing your violent husband was on the run and likely to drop in on you. He wished there was more he could do. When he left her at the doorstep, she peered out into the gloom as if worried that Vinny might be out there. Matt was only a few steps up the path when he heard the door shut with a bang. He resolved to ask McRay tomorrow if they could stretch to giving her more protection.

Driving home with Mary James still on his mind, he didn’t even take in the grandeur of Kenilworth Castle, not that there was much to see in the dark. At home, a delicious aroma greeted him and he wondered what delight Eppie was preparing. Trying to decide what treat lay in wait, he drew her to him and ignoring the rigid figure of Angela on the sofa, kissed her soundly.

‘About time. It’s not good for me to be kept waiting for my meal,’ Angela snapped.

Matt and Eppie grinned at each other and kissed again, this time lingering deliberately.

Chapter 44

Determined to prove his worth, Grant worked late. He felt like a bloodhound following a trail. Putting aside his search for Harold Harper-Jones, he turned instead to the list of pubs he was compiling. Some of the Warwick pubs were close to his flat, but not the ones he’d chosen to drink in, although maybe it was time to try a few. Having always felt cheated by Vinny’s escape from court, he wanted to be the one to bring him in. It would be a double triumph. No one could blame him for stopping for a drink on the way home, especially in the name of research. Knowing his job was on the line, he’d have to be careful not to be hung over in the morning. Besides, if he wanted to nail Vinny, he needed to keep a clear head.

The first port of call was the Railway Arms, a small establishment near to Warwick railway station. Although small and old, it had a welcoming atmosphere and the outside gleamed with new paint. The barman was hospitable and the clientele, intent on their conversations, barely looked up as he stood at the bar and enjoyed his pint. Grant decided that this was an unlikely place for Vinny to patronise and, finishing his beer, headed for home and his microwave dinner. Maybe he’d try another pub later.

While he waited for the microwave to heat his beef and mashed potato dinner, Grant crossed the Railway Arms off his list and decided the Golden Acorn might be worth a try, especially as it was close by.

The Acorn was at the end of a dingy street. This was more like it; Grant could visualise Vinny here. Before he pushed open the grimy door, he paused to consider what he would do if Vinny was inside. No doubt he would have a few henchmen with him. Considering it worth the risk, he went in. Something about the place immediately felt right, but a quick scan showed no sign of Vinny.

Grant decided he’d stay for a pint, try to relax and suss out the other customers. Placing himself at the end of the bar so as not to attract attention, he ordered a pint. The barman tried to be the chatty, all friendly type, but Grant felt he was only digging for information. The young, dark-haired barmaid stayed at the other end of the bar.

Grant felt under observation.

Before his glass was half-empty, the barman came towards him. ‘Another, mate?’

Despite knowing that he should refuse, Grant nodded. If the barman was trying to keep him there, he wanted to see why and he’d need to keep a drink in front of him otherwise it would look suspicious. Half an hour later, after downing three pints, the desperate need to keep drinking was fighting with his common sense.

The pub was filling up with the regular evening crowd and other men joined him at the bar. Grant had just convinced himself that another couple of pints wouldn’t hurt when a red-headed woman pushed in next to him. Although the red came straight from the bottle, Grant thought she wasn’t unattractive and moved over to accommodate her.

‘See if you can catch the barman’s eye for me, will you, love? Bloody impossible for me to.’

Grant thought this woman would be able to capture anyone’s attention, but nodded and raised his arm.

‘Another pint, mate? And whatever the lady’s having.’

‘Thanks. Gin and tonic, Ben.’

‘Coming up.’

Although his head was starting to get hazy, Grant gathered she was a regular. Maybe she could fill him in on one or two things. He returned her smile.

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said.

‘I know.’

‘You from round here?’

‘Not far away.’

‘Me too. I’ve never seen you in here before.’

‘Felt like a change.’

‘I know that feeling.’

Silence descended between them while Grant sought to bring up the subject of Vinny.

‘Used to meet up with a guy here. Few years back now. Wondered if he was still around?’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Vincent – well, he calls himself Vinny now.’

‘What’s he look like?’

‘Five ten, eleven, brown hair, thick-set, a goatee beard.’

She laughed. ‘You sound like a copper.’ She touched his nose playfully. ‘And in that case, I shouldn’t be talking to you.’

Grant kicked himself. The last pint had dulled his senses. He forced himself to concentrate, laughing in return and leaning towards her.

‘Now, now, young lady, haven’t anything to hide have you? If so, I don’t know where you would put it.’

She giggled. ‘Oh, officer.’

‘Let’s find a seat, shall we?’ Grant knew he must move away from the bar and temptation.

‘Let’s take another drink with us, shall we?’

Grant paid for another gin and tonic and a pint for himself. She led the way to a seat next to the stairs and they squeezed onto a table already occupied by two burly men who moved along to accommodate them.

‘So, are you a copper?’

Grant wished she would keep her voice down. He was sure one of the men shot a glance at him.

‘Would it make a difference?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

She put a hand on his arm. Her nails were a strange yellow, the colour of sputum, and they looked like claws ready for the kill. He was beginning to regret encouraging her.

‘Well, if for instance you’re working on a case. It wouldn’t do my reputation any good to be seen as a grass, now would it?’

‘I’m looking for a friend, that’s all.’

‘I might have seen him.’

‘Where?’

‘Around. Look, why don’t I make a few enquiries and get back to you?’

‘When?’

‘Impatient, aren’t you? How about tomorrow, around seven?’

‘You’re on.’

Excited that he might be getting somewhere, Grant was tempted to leave his half-finished pint, but deciding it would be a waste, downed it in one, said goodbye to the woman and left.

Outside the cold made his head fuzzy. The lamplights had a nebulous halo around them and the pavements were shiny with ice. As he made his way home, he slipped and landed flat on his back. Glad that no one was around to witness his undignified position, he scrambled up and headed for the warmth of his flat.