The Crooked Beat (22 page)

He stared at me. ‘What are you going to do?’

I was ready to leave. ‘If you don’t hear from me, you know what to do.’

Peter Hill hadn’t been able to help me with what I needed to know about George Sutherland’s cigarette smuggling. My only other option was Terry Gillespie. I stopped at an off-licence on the way to his house. When he answered the door, I held out the carrier bag to him. In it was a four-pack of bitter and a large bar of chocolate. His face was black and blue from the beating he’d taken from Sutherland and Palmer. It took him a moment to process the fact I was holding out a gift. He took it from me and stepped back into his house. ‘Don’t be thinking I didn’t recognise you when you came here with Sutherland.’

I wasn’t bothered about that. Not now. I cleared some space on his settee and sat down. I watched him struggle slowly across to his seat. He rummaged in the carrier bag and took out a can before offering one to me. I shook my head.

‘Fuck knows why I’m offering you one,’ he said. ‘You hit me.’

‘It’s the least you deserved.’ He didn’t have an answer to that. I pointed to the can. ‘I’ve brought you some drinks to take your mind off it.’

He snorted. ‘You’ve got some nerve.’

‘We’ve got something in common now.’

‘Have we?’

‘We’ve both definitely got a problem with George Sutherland.’ The look on his face said he didn’t want to hear what I was going to say, but I didn’t care about that. Gillespie had lied to me and dragged my brother into this mess. He was going to help me get us out of it.

‘Let bygones be bygones?’ he said.

‘That’s right.’

He drank back a mouthful of bitter. ‘Never believed in any of that shit.’

It was the response I’d been expecting from him. ‘Sutherland isn’t going to go away. He’ll come back.’

Gillespie drank his bitter. ‘He can’t get blood out of a stone. He can keep kicking the shit out of me if he likes, but it’ll be the same result. I’ve got nothing to give him.’

Looking around the room, I believed him. His personal possessions weren’t worth much. The television and stereo had seen better days. There was little else. He had nothing, either in terms of people or belongings.

He eyeballed me as he drank another mouthful. ‘You’re still on the hook for the cigarettes?’

‘We’ve come to an agreement. I’m going across to Belgium with Niall.’

Gillespie laughed. ‘Are you fucking mad?’

‘I’ve got no choice.’

‘You’ve always got a choice.’

‘Not this time.’

I knew exactly what I was staring at if it went wrong. ‘I want to know the mechanics of how the operation works.’

‘And you think I would know that?’

‘I’m asking for your help.’

He put his drink down. ‘You think four cans of bitter makes up for you coming here and laying into me?’

‘It was only one punch.’

‘Fuck you, Geraghty.’

‘If I hadn’t hit you, Palmer would only have carried on. You lied about not recognising him when I showed you his photograph in the pub. Do you remember that?’

‘I was never told how it worked. I was told to have the storage space available when the cigarettes arrived. That’s all.’

‘Why did Sutherland trust you to look after them?’

‘Because I’m fucking worthless, aren’t I? If something goes wrong, it doesn’t matter all that much. Imagine the shit Sutherland would be in if they were found on his property?’

I knew he was right. Sutherland wasn’t that stupid. People like Gillespie and Niall meant nothing to him. He could control them.

Gillespie helped himself to another can. ‘You don’t think I was doing this out of choice, do you? He set me up, letting me use his girls in the pub, saying it was all alright, that it could go on the tab. No pressure, he said, but he gave me the choice in the end. I could either pay up what I owed or I could work the debt off.’

I’d heard all I needed to know. Gillespie wasn’t going to be able to help me, either. He was a mess, and it was only now I realised it, a lonely man. No wonder the extras Sutherland’s pub offered appeared tempting to him. As much as he’d brought it all on himself, Sutherland had taken advantage of him. I told him to look after himself.

He smiled and drank a mouthful of bitter. ‘You’re the one smuggling cigarettes into the country.’

I called Neil Farr from my car. He didn’t sound all that surprised to be hearing from me. I told him I needed a word. Urgently. He protested, but I told him he could help me. If he did that, I wouldn’t need to bother him again.

‘Do you know the driving range on National Avenue?’ he said.

I knew it. It was in another area which had once been the home to heavy industry, but was now a mixture of small businesses and leisure facilities. The place wasn’t busy. A small number of people were standing in separate booths, driving golf balls into the netting at the end of the field. Farr was working his way through a large bucket of balls. I watched him swing. The ball flew off to the side. ‘You’ve shanked that,’ I said.

Farr stared at me. ‘I’m still learning. Christmas present from my wife.’

‘Harder than it looks?’

‘Aren’t most things?’ He walked across to me. ‘You said your call was urgent.’

I didn’t have time to mess about. I got straight to the point of my visit. I told him what Roger Millfield had said to me about his daughter. I asked him if it was true.

Farr put his driver down. I got the impression he’d been waiting for this day to come. We watched as the man in the neighbouring booth took aim. The ball sailed perfectly into the netting. Farr glanced at me. ‘Not in here.’ He led us out of the building, back to his car. I sat in the passenger seat and waited for him to speak.

‘It was a mistake,’ he eventually said. ‘A one-off mistake Kath made. She told me about it one night when she was drunk, but Rebecca was always Roger’s daughter.’

‘Has Roger always known?’

‘I’m sure he’s always had his suspicions. It’s probably why he doesn’t like me all that much. Kath would rather talk to me than him.’

Farr was most likely right. How could Roger Millfield be happy about the closeness of his wife’s friendship with another man? Their marriage certainly wasn’t conventional. I asked Farr how Don had found out the truth.

‘She wasn’t so discreet in those days after having a drink. That’s why she stopped and threw herself into the charity work. I think it gave her some purpose, helped her sort things out.’

‘Who else knows?’ I’d already worked it out.

Farr confirmed it for me. ‘George Sutherland.’

I could see it now. ‘Sutherland is trying to blackmail Don.’ Farr fell silent. I pressed on. ‘The man’s unstable. You might want to wise Kath up.’ I thought back to seeing him argue with Kath in her office. ‘She knew this was coming, didn’t she?’

Farr nodded. ‘It was always going to come out some day.’

I’d got the confirmation I’d come for. Don was the father of Kath Millfield’s child. My options were narrowing. Sutherland was in a position of strength. I had nothing to throw back at him.

Farr spoke. ‘Don’s got another daughter, hasn’t he?’

‘Sarah.’

‘That’s right. How do you think she’ll take the news?’

Sarah was working when I walked into the bar, serving a group of customers. I was able to quickly move past her in the direction of the kitchen. I couldn’t tell her what I’d learned about Don. I couldn’t tell her I’d discovered she had a half-sister. It would tear her into pieces. I was being a coward, but so be it. Niall stopped what he was doing when I walked in.

I nodded. We stood there for a moment in awkward silence before we both went to speak. ‘You first,’ I said.

‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said. I was out of order. I know you’re not to blame for what happened to Connor.’ He put the knife down. ‘It was the shock of seeing him after the attack, I suppose. I flipped. I wanted someone to blame because I hadn’t been there for him.’

I knew my brother. He meant what he said. He wasn’t one for wasting words. It was the way we behaved, like when I’d been best man at his wedding, and how we’d come together to take care of our mum when we’d buried our dad. It went largely unspoken. I told him I was sorry, too.

I leaned against the table and turned to business. ‘We’re collecting a van from Sutherland’s pub before boarding the ferry. That’s the plan.’ He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much either of us could do about it. I was running out of other options. I told him the same I’d told Peter Hill. ‘Can you send Ruth off to her sister’s for a bit, just as a precaution?’ He didn’t look he was going to enjoy trying to persuade her. ‘Just for one night. It’s important.’

I went back into the bar and called Coleman to tell him I had the wallet. He answered and said he was at his flat.

‘Bring food with you.’ I hadn’t eaten all day, so it sounded like a plan.

His flat looked like mine when I’d first moved in. The decoration was not only out of date, it was uncared for. Wallpaper was peeling off at the nearest corner. The carpet was worn, and if it had been described as furnished to Coleman, he was paying over the odds. The only personal touch was a framed photograph of his daughter on top of the television.

‘It’s home for now,’ he said, his eyes following mine around the room.

I put the pizzas down. ‘It took me a while to sort my place out, too.’

‘I’ve only signed a short-term lease.’

I hoped he was right for his own sake.

Coleman pointed to the food. ‘Shall we eat as we work?’

I agreed and passed over the jiffy bag which contained the wallet.

Coleman had started to tear into a slice of pizza. He stopped and wiped his hands on the settee. ‘Let’s have a look.’

I pointed at the jiffy bag.

Coleman wiped his hands before carefully tipping it out. He didn’t touch the wallet. ‘Do you think it’s genuine?’ he said.

I told him I’d spoken to Bancroft’s brother. I pointed to where Hull FC had been scratched into the leather. ‘Doesn’t prove anything, though, does it?’ I bit into my pizza as he examined the wallet. Like me, he decided to use latex gloves.

‘Looks convincing to me,’ he eventually said. ‘Not that we’ll get anything from it.’ He took the gloves off.

I waited until Coleman bit into another slice. ‘Why did you stop Gerard Branning talking to me?’

Coleman struggled to control a long string of cheese. He chewed his way through it before answering. ‘I needed you to work a bit harder.’

He could see I wasn’t impressed with his explanation.

‘Nothing personal, Joe. I needed you to buy into my theory.’ He tore into another slice. ‘Way of the world, that’s all.’

‘Like your promotion?’

He looked embarrassed. ‘I need something. I’ve got nothing else.’ He threw his half-eaten pizza slice back into the box. I did the same. He wanted to talk seriously.

‘What else do you know?’ he asked me.

I ignored the question. I wanted some answers myself. ‘What happened when Andrew Bancroft was reported missing? I assume there was a proper investigation?’

Coleman shook his head. ‘There wasn’t much of one. Holborn was assigned it, but what can you do if a grown man disappears?’

‘He didn’t do a thorough job?’

‘The file does the job. He asked the right people the right questions.’

‘Or he said he did?’

Coleman agreed. ‘That’s exactly the point, isn’t it? No way of knowing either way.’

‘What about Don’s involvement?’

‘He was never on the record with it.’

That made sense to me. Like with Branning and Salford, I knew people took cases personally if they didn’t think justice had been done.

We went back to our pizzas. It was Coleman who broke the silence. ‘I spoke to Johnson again.’

I was surprised. ‘Why?’

‘He asked for another meeting.’

‘Alone?’

‘He wanted to make sure he could trust you.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘Is he taking the piss?’

‘Far from it. He’s deadly serious.’

I knew if I didn’t help him, he wouldn’t help me with George Sutherland. Catch-22. He was my only option.

Coleman tossed his empty pizza box on to the floor. ‘I know the wallet doesn’t prove anything on its own, so that’s why I went back to him. It was his test to see if you were serious. He gave me a date for the killing of Andrew Bancroft. And an alibi.’

‘And you want me to check it out?’

Coleman shook his head. ‘Reckons he was at a City match. Never missed one. He’s got his season pass collection at home and says there are people who can vouch for him.’

It wasn’t the best alibi I’d ever heard. I asked Coleman if the date fitted.

‘I Googled it. It ties in with the reporting of Bancroft’s disappearance.’

We both knew it was worthless, but it would be hard to provide a solid alibi for something that happened so long ago. I did know that Salford and all his men were into football, though.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Coleman said.

I nodded. I was justifying it by not thinking of it as helping Johnson. I wanted to make sure he was telling the truth. If he was taking us for fools, he had to stay behind bars. I could help ensure that happened.

Coleman walked over to where he’d put his coat. He took out a manila envelope and passed it to me. ‘Johnson pointed me in the direction of these.’

I opened the envelope and let a handful of black and white photographs fall onto the table in front of me. The first one I picked up had been taken in a field at night. I could see a dirt track and some bushes and trees. There was nothing else in the scene. Coleman was staring at the wall, leaving me to take them in. I picked up the next photograph. I recognised Andrew Bancroft straight away. He was strapped to a chair in some sort of an outbuilding. He’d been beaten, his face covered in dry blood. ‘Fucking hell.’

‘Indeed.’

I put the photograph down. This had been where the trail was leading, but it was still a shock.

‘Look at the other photo,’ Coleman said, pointing to the last one left on the table. It had landed face down. Coleman stared at me as I turned it over. ‘Recognise him?’