Double Jeopardy, page 8
On the floor to the left of the desk stood a low table containing a globe. Beverly placed the torch on the edge of the desk and used both hands to move the table to one side. Beneath where the table had stood, a cleverly cut piece of carpet hid a small trapdoor and the door of a safe. It had taken Beverly some time to discover the combination, and she felt her heart thumping as she used it now, crouched by the side of the desk and peering down at the steel door below her. She turned the handle and lifted the door. It swung up and back, without sounding any alarms. Feeling a little happier now that she was so near to getting away, Beverly reached down and began to pack the contents of the safe into her spare case. It was mainly wads of money in pounds, Euros and dollars but there was also some diamonds, some packets of drugs and a small wooden box. Everything went into the case. She zipped the case shut, closed the safe and got to her feet again. Her hands were damp with sweat and she was shaking. She nearly tipped the globe off the table when she replaced it, and that made her sweat even more.
It was even more of a physical effort with the full case across her back and the two suitcases, but she got from the relocked study door to the front door and undid the bolts and the chain that secured it. As she opened the door and felt the cold early morning air cooling her hot forehead, she half expected to hear the alarms go off, but nothing happened. In the distance a police siren could be heard, proving that crime never slept. The thought made her smile wryly to herself as she pulled the front door closed. The snick of the front door lock seemed like a signal, heralding the point from which there was no turning back; all she could do now was to move forward and hope that her plans would work out.
The front drive seemed to go on forever. Beverly wished that she could have used her car, but opening the garage would have been an extra risk. Even if the noise didn’t wake anyone, the car’s absence was bound to be spotted early in the morning. This way should gain them an extra few hours, and that could be vital. She was trying to walk softly so as not to make too much noise on the gravel, but that in itself was difficult with the weight she was carrying. At least it had stopped raining heavily and there was enough light from the street ahead for her to avoid any obstacles.
At the gate, she put down the cases and stretched her aching arms above her head. She used her key on the gate, opened it, took her cases through and locked it again. The hinges creaked slightly and somewhere a cat called out as if in response. Fortunately, the camera was linked to the alarm system at night so there would be no immediate photographic evidence. The long wide road was deserted, the spaced street lamps giving it a silvery gleam. Beverly crossed quickly to the tall dark skeletal trees that rose from the woodland of the common on the other side of the road. She started walking to the left along a narrow asphalt path, split and crumbling with weeds. About twenty yards along on the right was a narrow muddy lane between the trees and she took that, the soles of her trainers slipping slightly on the damp ground. Her breath was coming in short gasps and there was a stitch in her side, a combination of her tension and the weight she was carrying. She should definitely have packed fewer clothes! The path was now no more than a muddy track and the light from the main road grew dimmer as she walked along, peering ahead to avoid the deeper puddles. Her designer trainers would be getting filthy. Still, she had plenty of money to buy a new pair.
Fifty yards down the lane, backed in where there was a flat grassy space between the trees, a car stood waiting in darkness, its bonnet pointing back the way she had come. There was just enough light in the gloom to make out Beverly’s shape and, as she drew near, the driver’s door opened and a figure came out and took the cases. Light from the car spilled out across the lane.
They kissed quickly and the driver hugged her.
‘You’re late, I was getting worried.’
‘I was slower than I thought, I didn’t want to make a noise.’ She helped him to load her cases into the boot of the car as she talked. Relief flooded though her. She didn’t have to carry the cases any further and she had got away with it: she was clear of the house without raising the alarm. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to earn my living as a burglar.’ She turned towards him and hugged and kissed him again, feeling the relief turning to desire.
Her companion laughed and pushed her away gently.
‘We’d better leave that for later. We don’t want to hang around.’
They got into the car and, as the engine started into life, the headlights brought the trees into sharp outline. They drove back up the lane and turned right towards the motorway, away from Milton’s house and on the first leg of what they hoped was the road to freedom.
SIX
WHEN THE FRONT door-bell rang at 9.30 Julie and Tanner were sitting in the kitchen enjoying the warmth of the sun beaming through at them from a clear sky. They had just finished a leisurely breakfast, having first carried out a further check after waking up to make certain that what had happened the night before really hadn’t been a fluke. They had both showered and Tanner thought that Julie looked delectable in a dark-blue silk kimono-style dressing-gown with a dramatic orange and red dragon pattern. Her hair was tied back loosely and her face looked fresh and very young without any make-up.
‘Could you answer it, please, whilst I make myself more presentable?’ She got up from the kitchen table, demonstrating that there was nothing but Julie under the kimono.
‘My pleasure.’ Tanner got up, kissed her, and walked through to the hallway as she went into her bedroom.
Tanner peered through the spy hole to make sure the visitors didn’t intend a follow up to the violent activities of the previous evening. When he saw the rather crumpled face on the other side of the door, with its thatch of untidy, straw-coloured hair, he relaxed and opened the door.
‘Good morning, Ancient.’
Detective Chief Inspector Richard Mariner grunted a greeting and walked past into the flat.
‘Morning, Alec.’ Mariner was wearing his usual creased blue suit and wrinkled raincoat and carried a battered briefcase.
‘Come through to the lounge,’ Tanner said. ‘Julie will be out in a minute.’
‘Right.’ Mariner lowered his lanky form into a chair and placed his case at his feet. He affected a world weary and slightly bored expression that had often led people to assume – incorrectly and to their cost – that he was not particularly alert or clever. In fact, he was both, and was one of the most respected police officers in the Havenchester force.
‘Making yourself at home, I see.’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘You know that we offer a full service.’
‘I hope you aren’t—’ He broke off as Julie came in, wearing jeans and a white sweater.
‘Good morning Julie.’
‘Good morning, sir.’
He stared at her closely for a moment, looked across at Tanner and then back at her. ‘You look a lot better than when you first came to see me.’
‘I’ve started to live a bit again. Would you like some coffee?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Carry on talking – I can hear you in the kitchen.’
‘I’ve come to get your signatures on your written statements, to save you a trip to the station. I’ve also come to ask you not to start a war on my patch.’
‘War?’ Tanner tried to look offended. ‘We are intent on spreading sweetness and light.’
Mariner didn’t look convinced.
‘Those goons last night didn’t look very sweet after you two had finished with them.’
‘Did they say who sent them?’
‘No.’ The chief inspector shook his head disgustedly. ‘They’re just local cannon-fodder. They’ve all refused to make a statement on the advice of their lawyer. There is one interesting thing, though: the man who came to give them legal representation has amongst his other clients one Vincent Bridger.’
Julie came though from the kitchen with three mugs of coffee on a tray.
‘I said poking the nest would help,’ she remarked.
‘How about the van they used?’ Tanner asked.
Mariner shook his head. ‘Stolen earlier in the evening – just a dead-end.’
‘It would be much easier if they used their own registered vehicles, wouldn’t it? Crooks have no consideration.’
‘Hmm.’ He glanced across to the far side of the room where there was a small desk with a computer and other equipment. ‘Is that an all in one printer?’ He asked.
‘Yes.’ Julie looked puzzled.
Mariner nodded.
‘Very useful, being able to make photocopies.’ He opened his case. ‘Here are your statements, if you’d read and sign them.’ He paused. ‘Well I never,’ he said in a dead-pan voice, ‘I’ve put an office file in my case as well by mistake. It is confidential and for official use only, but I’m sure you wouldn’t dream of looking in my case, would you?’
‘Certainly not.’ Julie put the tray down carefully.
‘Could I use your bathroom?’
‘Of course. The door to the left of the hall.’
‘Thank you.’
Once Mariner had left the room, Tanner opened the case and took out the thin file. It contained biographies, addresses and contacts for the six potential shooters that Ted Manning had identified. Julie had already switched on the printer and by the time Mariner returned, making some unnecessary noise about it, the file and its papers were back in the case and Julie and Tanner were studiously reading through their statements.
‘Well?’ Mariner asked.
‘It all seems to be in order,’ Tanner said, signing. Julie had already signed hers.
‘Thank you.’ Mariner placed the statements in his case. ‘Of course, there’s no proof that Bridger instigated the attack on you last night, and I doubt if we’d ever be able to prove it.’
Tanner nodded. ‘We wouldn’t expect it.’
‘So can I ask – unofficially of course – what you intend to do next?’
‘The fact that Bridger didn’t like the idea of us poking around and asking questions about Jarvis and Hesky suggests that they might be worth looking into,’ Julie said. ‘I believe I read somewhere that Hesky has an ex-wife. It might be an idea to have a chat with her and get some more background before we do anything else.’
Mariner nodded solemnly.
‘I see that you are very well informed. The divorce wasn’t exactly harmonious, and there is a son that Hesky tries to see from time to time, so you might get something useful from her.’
‘Did you interview her?’
‘Not about his possible involvement in the shooting. As I told you, we didn’t focus much on locals. I have had dealings with her on other matters, though. She hates the police almost as much as she hates Hesky. After Hesky she took up with someone else and we nicked him for armed robbery earlier this year. She’s not very good at choosing her men.’
He finished his coffee.
‘Thanks for the drink. Take care of yourselves. You need to watch your backs where Bridger is concerned.’
‘We’ll be careful,’ Julie promised. ‘Thanks for your help.’
Mariner got to his feet and picked up his briefcase.
‘My help? I don’t know what you mean.’
After Mariner had gone, they sat and read through the information from the copied file. The home and work addresses for Hesky’s ex-wife were listed. Hesky and Jarvis shared the same home address, a flat in the south of the city. They decided to leave visiting the prime suspects until they had talked to the ex-wife. If she disliked Hesky as much as Mariner suggested, they might get some useful information from her.
April Thornton, formerly Hesky, worked at City Taxis, a radio taxi company in Kings Road – not to be confused with the London thoroughfare of the same name. Kings Road, Havenchester was long and winding and felt perpetually grey. Even when the sun came out, the light seemed filtered through dirt. The road was lined with a variety of shops and shop front businesses. The brickwork was dirty, the paintwork generally peeling and most windows looked like they could do with occasional contact with clean water. The pavements were cracked and narrow, but there were permitted parking spaces in the road. Most of the cars parked around City Taxis were presumably plying their trade from the establishment, but Tanner managed to find a space fifty yards further along.
The décor inside the shop matched the outside, with drivers sitting around on a padded bench inside the door and a partitioned area towards the back which led to the control centre. A woman’s voice could be heard on the phone taking a pick-up instruction. An elderly man with a pronounced beer gut wearing an open-necked striped shirt sat behind the counter.
‘Help you?’ he asked in a rasping voice.
‘We’d like to speak to April Thornton, please.’
He gave them both a curious look, but didn’t object. He swivelled round to face the rear of the shop and the woman who sat at a desk with three telephones and some radio equipment.
‘Hey, Api, couple ’ere want to talk to yer.’
Tanner wondered, not for the first time, why even the shortest of names often had to be shortened even further.
Mrs Thornton finished giving instructions on the pick-up into the radio, got to her feet and walked across to the counter.
‘Yes?’ She was tall with a round face, short, curly hair and sharp blue eyes. Her clothes hung a little loosely, as if she had recently lost some weight.
‘My name’s Alec Tanner and this is my colleague Julie Cooper.’ In view of Mariner’s comment on her opinion of the police, it didn’t seem prudent to give Julie’s official title. ‘I’m a private investigator and I’d like to ask you a few questions about Sam Hesky.’
Her expression got even sharper as she looked them carefully up and down.
‘In trouble is he?’
‘Very possibly.’
She nodded.
‘I’m due for a ciggy break. Come through and we’ll talk in the yard. Take over the phone, will you, Kenny?’
The elderly man nodded, got laboriously out of his chair and moved to the rear of the shop to take over the phone desk. Mrs Thornton opened the door at the side of the partition and beckoned them through. She picked up her handbag from the desk and they followed her to the back of the shop, past a small alcove with a sink and a kettle and an open door that led to a toilet which, judging from the smell, should not have been used without protective clothing and a gas mask. Beyond the staff facilities was another door that she unlocked, taking them through into a small rectangular paved yard. The air quality improved fractionally until she took a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from her handbag, lit up and took in a deep drag on her cigarette, letting the smoke out slowly through her mouth with a sigh.
‘Right then,’ she said briskly, ‘what’s all this about?’
‘Sam Hesky is your ex-husband?’ Tanner asked. She nodded briefly. ‘We are undertaking an investigation for a client. The details must remain confidential, but Hesky’s name has come up in connection with some activities that have adversely affected our client and we need to look into him further. Do you have much contact with him?’
She shook her head.
‘As little as possible.’
‘Does he see your son?’
‘No.’ Mention of the son seemed to have touched a nerve. She took another deep drag at her cigarette. ‘Look, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want to know?’
Tanner decided that they wouldn’t get very far unless he was a bit more informative.
‘We are interested in Hesky’s whereabouts on a particular day. The eighth February this year. Do you happen to remember that day?’
He didn’t have much hope that her memory would be that specific after several weeks, but to his surprise, she gave a snorting sort of laugh and nodded.
‘I’m not likely to forget it.’ She lit a second cigarette from the stub of the first.
Tanner thought Mrs Thornton might be more open talking to another woman. He gave Julie a glance and she took over.
‘Why, what happened?’
‘My husband got himself arrested. My current husband, that is.’ She shook her head. ‘I can certainly pick ’em.’ She paused for a moment, presumably to consider her marital track record. It didn’t seem to give her much satisfaction. ‘They arrested him for armed robbery. Only the idiot tried to make a run for it, jumped over a fence, tripped and broke his ankle. I spent the evening of eighth February in the hospital with him and the copper who was guarding him. Then, when I got home, I found my son had spent the evening with his bastard of a father. I was pretty pissed off, I can tell you.’
Tanner felt a spark of anticipation and sensed that Julie felt the same.
‘Was Sam Hesky there?’
‘Not likely – he knows better than to come into my house – I’ve got too many kitchen knives with his name on.’ She shook her head. ‘No, Jimmy – that’s my son – told me. Not that he wanted to, but I caught him at the sink trying to wash blood out of his T-shirt, so he didn’t have much option.’
Julie and Tanner exchanged a puzzled glance. If Hesky was one of the two on the motor bike, where had the blood come from? Neither of the bikers had stopped and got close to Julie or her aunt.
‘Whose blood was it?’
‘His father’s. It’s a pity the bugger didn’t do us all a favour and bleed to death.’
‘Did Jimmy tell you what had happened?’
She shrugged.
‘Just that his father had rung him earlier in the evening and told him that he needed his help. Wanted Jimmy to pick him and that prick Jarvis up in his car because they’d been hurt and couldn’t drive. I didn’t ask any more. Jimmy swore he hadn’t been involved in anything criminal himself, so I just told him never to help his father like that again. That’s always been my fear – that Sam would drag Jimmy into his world, make a criminal out of him. Jimmy’s nineteen now, he’s got a decent job, a mechanic in a garage. Not brilliant money, but he’s learning a trade. Trouble is, he’s always had a soft spot for his dad, can’t see through him. He thinks Sam really cares about him.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I suppose he does care a bit, in a way,’ she conceded grudgingly, ‘but if push came to shove, Sam would put himself first every time.’
