A Fatal Drug, page 21
“You two know something. You’re just pretending to be shocked. You’ve never liked Harry, and you, Simon, you’re just jealous because he’s a good-looking young lad. I’m worried sick. I’ll call his mum and dad this morning. I know them, they’re really nice people.”
She swung round to face Dave. “You’ve seen it all before, Dave, I don’t doubt, but there’s no need to be so hard-faced about it. Young Harry is one of ours, you know.”
Simon and Dave exchanged glances. Dave put his hands up in surrender. Julie was not finished. Her face was red and her eyes bore into each of them as she continued her tirade. “Go and ring some of your police buddies and find out what’s going on. I want young Harry out of that place. It doesn’t matter what he’s done or not done, he shouldn’t be locked up in a police cell. He’s a newspaperman for God’s sake.”
Simon and Dave looked at each other.
“Look Julie, we’re just as upset as the others but we’re working on a separate story. I’ll see what I can do but nothing like this has happened before,” said Dave. Julie harrumphed, turned and walked back. The last thing they wanted was an argument with someone like Julie Sanderson, who was well known for squeezing the truth out of her ‘victims’, especially when they knew so much more than the rest in the office.
Dave walked over to the news desk and spun the big office diary round to check on the day’s allocated activities. Norman Speller had not got round to matching the available staff to the list of jobs to be done and events to be attended, so Dave and Simon were both temporarily free. He looked over and nodded to Simon, and they headed for the canteen.
It was unusual and disconcerting for a newspaper to be making its own headlines but, as Julie Sanderson had said, Dave had seen it all before. Maybe not an arrest as such, but a fair bit of drama. The newspaper seemed to attract a lot of people who made headlines, many of them for the wrong reasons.
“She’s too damn smart, that woman,” Dave said a few seconds after they’d got their coffees. “She reads people just by glancing at them. I’m glad she’s on our newspaper and not a rival’s.”
Chris Saxon, the business reporter, put his head round the canteen door. “Guy called James Caton on the phone. He won’t speak to anybody else but you, Simon.”
Simon sighed, left his coffee and followed Chris back to the newsroom to answer the call. The short break had helped to calm him from the dressing down by Julie. He wondered what Janie’s brother was ringing about. He hoped everything was OK.
CHAPTER 39
Simon waited until Chris Saxon had sat down opposite him. Their desks faced each other but Chris was not the prying type. He quickly got back to the work he was doing before interrupted by the phone call.
“Morning, Jim. How can I help you?” It had been well over a week, maybe two, since he’d spoken to Janie, and then she was getting ready to leave. A call from her brother was unusual.
“Janie asked me to call you. You know that job in Benidorm she was going to go to? Well it’s changed. She’s in a place called Torremolinos. It’s further south than Benidorm. On the coast still, but in the Costa del Sol, I think she said. She’s asked me to tell you that she’s following up on that conversation you two had.”
Simon’s Adam’s apple bounced in his neck and he began to sweat. This was not supposed to happen.
“What’s this all about, Simon? That sounds like a coded message. She’s supposed to be getting away from all the shock of that dead body, and now she’s doing something secretive for you. I’ll be holding you personally responsible if she’s unwell or getting herself into trouble. I’ll have your guts for garters.”
“I’m as lost as you on this one, Jim,” Simon said, struggling to make his voice sound normal and relaxed. “Just do me a favour when you next speak to her. Tell her everything’s OK and not to do anything silly. There’s no way I would ever ask her to do anything dodgy or anything that might mean getting into trouble. I’m just as keen as you that she gets away from stress and worry for a while. Oh, and give her my love.”
Jim snarled something down the phone that Simon didn’t hear.
“Just one other thing, Jim. Do you have a phone number for her or know which hotel she’s working at? No funny business, but I might be able to put her mind at rest.”
“If I hear one word that she’s getting involved in some of your dodgy stuff I’ll be over and I’ll break you. Do you understand?”
“Solemn promise, Jim. I don’t want Janie doing anything for me. Trust me. I think the world of your sister. I wouldn’t ask her to do anything.”
“You’d better not,” said Jim now in a calmer and less threatening voice. He was not naturally angry, but he’d been close to Janie all his life. She was just over a year younger, while their brother Robert was four years old than him. During their childhood, Robert had been the ‘big boy’ and they’d never really played together. He and Janie had been inseparable until he went to grammar school.
They’d fought, like brothers and sisters do, but Janie had been a tomboy until she was well into her teens. She’d combined a love of physical exercise, including most athletics’ disciplines, with dancing. When she became a teenager, Jim was wary of taking her on in anger. He enjoyed sports, like his sister, but while she excelled at dancing and enjoyed singing, he knew that his career was going to be as an artist.
Simon cared deeply for his sister and the pair of them had a sensible relationship, in his eyes anyway. It was based on friendship rather than being conventional girlfriend and boyfriend. Simon would not knowingly allow her to put herself in danger, but Janie was a headstrong girl.
“I haven’t got the number yet, I forgot to ask, but it’s a brand new hotel called the Parasol Gardens. It’s in Torremolinos. Are you thinking of going out to see her? It’s a bit expensive for a junior reporter.” Jim laughed at his own joke.
“Thanks, Jim. I’ll get you back for the insult. And the answer is no. Not only could I not afford the hotel, I haven’t got the money to even get out there. Thanks anyway.”
“I’ll get you that number as soon as I find out,’ said Jim. “Just make sure that our Janie is not involved in anything you cook up. OK?”
Back in the canteen, Dave had thoughtfully put a saucer over Simon’s cup of coffee and he removed it as his colleague returned. Simon took a sip and grimaced. “That’s cold, and it’s horrible.”
Dave shrugged. He’d done what he could but canteen coffee was always pretty horrible. The only difference now was that it was cold as well. “What’s he got to say? Is Janie OK?” Dave asked and looked at the skin on Simon’s coffee as it clung obscenely to the lip of the cup like a thin, used rubber johnny.
Simon pushed the cup and saucer away with a look of distaste. He related his conversation with Jim. “I’ve no idea what she’s doing. I just hope she hasn’t gone looking for the Spanish connection to the smugglers. She’s that type of feisty lady. She’s stubborn as well.
“She’s not the type to let others sort out her problems, and the Savoy incident she’d see as a problem. She won’t like it that it’s just me digging around. She’d want to play a part. I wish I’d never mentioned the drugs connection in southern Spain. I’m sure that’s why she changed her hotel.
“With Harry’s arrest – and I didn’t tell Jim about that – I think things are going to get a bit hairy. There’s no way that something as dramatic as a reporter being arrested in the Telegraph office is going to be kept quiet. Radio Derby will pick it up and the news agency guys are too good to let something like this escape from under their noses. Jim and the rest of the family will find out and they’ll be on the blower to Spain immediately. I need to warn Janie.
“I also need to tell her to keep well away from any of the drugs people. We know how unpleasant they can be. I’m not sure she does, or that she’ll fully understand. Do you think I’d be allowed to phone from the office? It’s an international call.”
Dave took a moment to think. “From one perspective it’s good that things are out in the open. From another, it might put some people at risk. Yeah, tell Janie and warn her.
“Don’t worry about international calls. Use my phone but wait until later this afternoon. Things will be a bit hot for a while, and as we’ve seen from Julie Sanderson, we’re not flavour of the month. She’ll be watching us. Anyway, Spain is an hour ahead of British time and if she’s working Janie won’t want to be disturbed in the middle of the day.”
They walked back towards the newsroom. Dave had to phone Full Street Police Station and check in with DI Ludden. He needed to find out what progress was being made with Harry Ponds and whether bail was imminent, and Norman Speller had told him to pass some of the investigation into the cricket club raids over to Simon. It was a bit of cod psychology. The busier they were, the less chance either of them had to try to follow up on the story about Ponds. Norman’s view was that investigative reporters, certainly of the calibre of Dave Green, would stand more chance of upsetting the police than helping Ponds, who was, after all, still a staff member.
Simon left Dave at the newsroom door and carried on past the editor’s office. He wanted to check on the people he’d seen outside the building. He was sure they were watching. In the furthest office, where the chairman’s secretary usually sat when she wasn’t, like today, taking a day’s holiday, he looked through the two windows. One gave him a view across the street to the shops; the other towards the Market Hall. There were two young teenagers in the shop doorway, and a family of two women in saris and three small children in the round cafe-type stall. One of the women was looking across the road. Simon had been sure that people were watching him, but now he doubted it. Even with that self-doubt he wasn’t absolutely sure, and there was no way he could find out without putting himself in some danger, and that was out of the question.
CHAPTER 40
Janie had liked Simon from the moment she’d heard him laugh. Physically he was no great specimen of manhood. He was thin and had a pigeon chest, but his smile and laugh… It was an honest laugh: the sort of laugh that embraced everyone around and made them smile or laugh along with him. He also enjoyed music, especially live bands, but he never pretended he was a musician. Most boys, hearing that she liked to dance and sing, would boast about their prowess on a range of instruments. The most common had been the piano, guitar and violin, in that order.
Janie could handle the piano and guitar maestros-in-waiting but had avoided the violinists for fear of damaging her own sensibilities as well as her hearing. Music, in her opinion, should be entertainment, not a physical threat. It was just a skill you learned if you wanted to and had any aptitude; it was not the bedrock of a personal relationship, just a nice add-on.
Simon was different. He never saw himself as a magnet for girls but he was almost invariably in the company of one or two, or with his mates at the bar swilling yet another pint. Perhaps it was this that attracted the girls – a lack of overt ego and outward self-esteem. It also probably helped that he got free entry into every club and gig. That didn’t bother Janie, her attitude was that if she wanted something she’d get it and if that meant buying a ticket then so be it.
The clincher with Simon, apart from the fact that he amused her, was that he was an enthusiastic lover at the same time as not demanding lifelong commitment. He knew when she wasn’t interested; he didn’t get moody and sulk; and when she was in the mood, he was a devoted and singular male with all the right equipment.
Musically, Simon was an appreciative listener; as a man he was complimentary, and Janie had lost count of the number of times he’d said how lovely she was and how proud it made him feel just to be in her company. It may be rubbish, but like most girls she liked to hear it, and he at least sounded genuine.
The chat in the Kardomah with Mary from the Savoy had set her mind working. Yes, she was going to Spain and would be away from everything, good and bad, that Derby reminded her of, but maybe she could tie that in with helping Simon. The events in the hotel room had been shocking – at the time, terrifying – but neither she nor Simon had been physically hurt. They were both OK.
The embarrassment of being caught not just naked but spread out like a starfish was transitory. So what? She was a young woman and quite pleasantly shaped. When she was dancing on stage in those skimpy outfits the lads stared at her as if they were looking right through her clothes. Yes, it had been embarrassing, but the policeman had probably seen a lot more and better looking girls than her.
Simon had avoided mentioning the Savoy incident in detail. Everybody else had been really sympathetic, even though she’d never actually told them the full circumstances or about her state of undress. Their imaginations had run riot when it was made clear that she’d been alone in a room with a man. None of her friends or family knew the facts and she’d been promised by Simon and the police that they would never tell. Put it all on the back burner and get on with life; that was her motto.
Simon had not been so sanguine. Janie thought that, of the two of them, he had been the more embarrassed. In the following days he had kept apologising every time they spoke, but it hadn’t been his fault and, as much as she liked him, she wished he’d shut up and forget it. Life moves on.
When Simon had mentioned the link between the dead body and drugs, Janie had become more than just interested. She hated drugs with a vengeance. When she was younger she had volunteered to work at the children’s hospital. It had been an escape from the pub and a way of experiencing things she was never normally in contact with; it was a chance to grasp the reality of life away from fun, alcohol and entertainment. The work was menial and involved making friends with the children, some of whom were quite close to her age.
She’d been deeply affected by one small boy. He was four years old and laughed with her and at her. All he seemed to need was attention and love. A nurse had explained that the boy had become addicted to heroin in the womb. His mother had died of a septicaemia-related illness three years after giving birth: a final illness directly linked to self-injecting heroin.
Caring for the little orphan boy had flicked a switch deep within Janie. She vowed never to have anything to do with any drugs and to try to help those who might take them. At the time, she knew, it had been an immature vow but she’d stuck to it. Simon’s comment about the drugs link brought all those old feelings back and she shuddered. If she could help him get to the bottom of this affair it would show how much she thought of him as a friend, and it would mean she could score a little victory in her battle against drug use. She would feel better about the whole thing.
Simon’s investigation and the small role she could play began to take on more importance. To excoriate the foulness of the past she had the chance to make a positive, worthwhile contribution. Perhaps she was also looking for something to take her mind off the life-changing decisions she’d already made
The flight to Spain was so much more than simply getting on a plane at Birmingham. It was true that she was fleeing from her lifestyle, her upbringing, her family and her friends, but it would not be for ever. It was a step she had to make; hiding under the ploy of furthering her career, so that she could grow up into what she felt was a proper adult. The pub was great in so many ways but she wanted to see more and do more. From the bar she looked out on sad people, and sometimes happy people, but these were people who came to her home for their enjoyment and escape. Where could she go?
The world was much more than a pub in sleepy Duffield; it was more than Derby; and even more than the whole of Britain. She wanted to explore. The magazines and newspapers that came to the pub from the licensed trade had, for the last year or so, been stuffed with advertisements for business opportunities in Spain and the Mediterranean islands. The resorts were bulging with British people taking advantage of the new cheap flights and looking for low-cost hotels. But it seemed that as soon as they arrived on the exotic, warm and sandy beaches they hankered for traditional British pubs. It was in one of these magazines that Janie saw the advertisement for hotel and bar staff in Benidorm, with an agency address in London.
She had sent a letter and a photograph and, based on her lifelong experience in the pub, had been accepted straight away. The reaction of her family had been uniformly negative and for the first time for many years, Janie had dissolved in tears. Her dream was being stymied at the first hurdle. The atmosphere in the pub could be cut with a knife. Janie refused to work, and her parents and two brothers refused to tell the customers why.
The air of petulance and tantrum was, for some regulars, a laugh, but for most customers it was off-putting and even the most loyal were spending less time in a bar they used as an escape from petty family or personal squabbles themselves. Janie’s father knew that, for the sake of his business and his family, something had to give.
CHAPTER 41
After two days of frostiness in the Caton household, an aggressive atmosphere that swept inexorably and seamlessly into the bar, Janie’s father called the family together at breakfast. It was the one meal of the day that was sacrosanct to the family: the only time when they were all together. He sat at the head of the large, long, wooden kitchen table, his hands clasped together on the place mat and his head bowed. Everyone knew that this was going to be a showdown and they instinctively shuffled closer to protect Janie, the youngest member and the one who was in line for the head of the family’s venom.
The father and landlord took a deep breath and his head came up. He seemed to look at all of them, but Janie was the focus. “Your mother and I think we may have been a bit hard on you.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from the two young men at the table and a long exhalation from Janie’s mother. He went on: “I’ve done some digging into what these places are offering and it seems that the agency you’ve chosen is a good one. I’ve asked around in the trade and they only deal with classy restaurants, and the hotels on their books are quite highly rated. Provided you agree to meet some of the restrictions we, as a family, insist on, then your mum and I are prepared to let you go.”
