Dark Side Page 12

  ‘I’ve heard that one before,’ Forrester snorted. ‘In cop shows. It’s not true, just a con.’

  ‘This is not a cop show but it does actually represent the rest of your life,’ Patrick told him. ‘You see, I have first-hand information about what happened that night. The man you chose to attack with three others slapped you around the head and made you feel a bit sick and dizzy so you laid down on the ground and pretended to be unconscious as carrying on seemed a very bad idea. Meanwhile, your four other chums were kicking the other cop, who did end up in hospital.’

  ‘I don’t understand why you, or someone else, isn’t pasting the hell out of me right now.’

  ‘Because (a) this still isn’t a cop show,’ Patrick said grimly, ‘And (b) I don’t hit kids.’

  Forrester swallowed hard. ‘The others aren’t my chums.’

  ‘Your criminal associates, then. It won’t really matter in court what they are. Is the name of the man you share a flat with Paul?’

  Forrester hung his head for a moment, his eyes closed. Then he looked up and nodded.

  ‘Mallory?’

  ‘You knew already then!’ Nathan cried. ‘You have conned me!’

  ‘I haven’t. You told your aunt he played very loud experimental music. Mallory’s connected with the club and has a criminal record. It was a guess as he’s been bothering his neighbours with the racket for years. Yes?’

  Another very reluctant nod.

  ‘He’s a drunkard and probably on drugs as well. Another man called Benny Cooper, who’s a dealer, virtually controls him. I take it you know him too.’

  ‘Sort of. He’s a real creep so I stay away from him as much as possible.’

  ‘Did you want the money you got from your aunt to buy drink or drugs for Mallory?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He goes off his head, raving when he needs a fix, and after he came into my room one night with a carving knife I thought he might kill me to get what money I had.’

  ‘Is Mallory the one threatening you to make you do out-of-hours jobs for them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who, then? Cooper?’

  ‘No, Kev.’

  ‘Know where he lives?’

  ‘No, you don’t ask a man like that personal questions. He threw me against a wall once.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just leave?’

  ‘He told me they’d find me wherever I went. And there’s another bloke who I think is the boss …’ He broke off and I saw that his hands were shaking.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I didn’t really mean to say that. I’m as good as dead if I tell you.’

  ‘You’ll get police protection.’

  ‘No, I can’t tell you. Not only that, the others arrested with me are here too. They’ll find out and grass on me, I know they will.’

  ‘How many of you were there altogether that night?’

  ‘Eight.’

  ‘So four were arrested and four escaped. Who are the others?’

  ‘Dunno. They came in from outside and I don’t know their names. That’s the truth.’

  ‘So they may have been the personal minders of this man, the boss, who you don’t want to talk about.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  That was a yes then.

  ‘Have you met him?’

  ‘Once. That was enough.’

  ‘What does he look like?’

  Forrester just sat there, avoiding Patrick’s gaze, miserably shaking his head.

  ‘OK, you four who were arrested are just blokes from the club.’

  ‘Three including me are, plus a pal of one of them.’

  Patrick turned to me. ‘Cannon fodder threatened if they talked. You know, this mobster really is stupid. Why use ordinary employees at a club and set them against people they knew were cops when there’s every likelihood of their being arrested?’

  ‘You said it yourself,’ I pointed out. ‘Cannon fodder. He values his private army too much to lose them.’

  ‘So he’s nervous of losing his protection,’ Patrick said under his breath. Then to Nathan, ‘OK, this Raptor character …’

  Forrester went white.

  ‘That’s what he calls himself and you’ve obviously heard the name. How did he know that two roughnecks were actually cops?’

  ‘I can’t answer that,’ Forrester said hoarsely, then cleared his throat to add, ‘As I said, we got our orders from Kev. Perhaps he got them from the boss.’

  ‘Kev told you we were bad boys.’

  ‘Yes. But he laughed as he said it.’

  ‘No one could have known that two men dressed as down-and-outs were police officers. Unless, that is, one, or both of them had been followed from home – from a house where they already knew a policeman lived – by someone watching them. Now, being experienced in such things, I would never openly come out of my place in disguise, get in my car and go off to some kind of stakeout. But the other officer may well have done and been observed and followed. Was a watch put on a house, do you know?’

  Forrester shook his head.

  ‘You know that for sure then?’

  ‘N-no, of course not. No one said anything about it, that’s all.’

  ‘Can you drive?’

  ‘I’ve passed my test but don’t have a car. I can’t afford one.’

  ‘I want you to tell me the truth.’

  ‘I am telling you the truth!’

  ‘What threats have been made against you?’

  ‘Just that I’d get sorted out if I didn’t do as I was told. I used my imagination.’

  ‘When you applied in all innocence for the job at the club did you give your aunt’s address as the place where you could be contacted?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘This character who calls himself Raptor has been known to silence witnesses by making threats against their families. One police officer committed suicide, although it’s beginning to look as though he might have been murdered. Nathan, you’ve got yourself in a hell of a mess and the only way out of it is by telling me the truth. Did they threaten to hurt your aunt?’

  ‘No.’

  Even I could tell that he was lying.

  ‘It would have had to be something like that as I’m sure you’ve more sensitivity and intelligence than the whole lot put together. Most of them would probably boil down their own mothers for glue.’

  ‘I’m not like that,’ Forrester agreed with another small smile.

  Patrick smiled back. ‘No, and I believe you when you say that you didn’t know the bloke you followed into Bath that night was a cop.’

  ‘That’s right, I didn’t.’

  One of the best interrogation techniques: charm, retreat and pounce.

  There was a very long silence before Forrester blurted out, ‘At-at-least …’ and then floundered to a stop.

  ‘And you still weren’t told when you were given further orders after you phoned in to report what he was doing,’ Patrick continued. ‘But you know now. Tell the truth.’

  More silence.

  ‘Look,’ Patrick continued, ‘I want this man and because I’m a cop now and not working for special services I have to behave by arresting him, not put him into a sack and chuck him in the nearest river. But I assure you, I shall get him.’

  ‘It’s auntie, though,’ Forrester whispered.

  ‘She can be given police protection too – even taken to a safe house for a while. All the time you’re dithering like this she’s unprotected.’

  ‘OK then, but …’ There were tears in his eyes.

  ‘All you have to do is give me your word that you’ll make a full statement to the investigating officers.’

  There was a muttered, ‘OK.’

  ‘What name is he calling himself now?’

  ‘Hamsworth, Nick Hamsworth.’

  ‘Thank you. Now tell me what he looks like.’

  There was another endless pause and then Forrester mumbled, ‘Just ordinary … I can’t
remember really … until you see his eyes … snakey … only with a person inside them … like sci-fi movies … sorry, that’s the best I can do.’

  I knew the look on his face. It’s called terror.

  ‘Carrick was damned careless,’ Patrick said a little later when he was driving us back to Bath. ‘To leave home looking like a heap of rags …’

  I said, ‘I’m surprised he hadn’t noticed another car parked near his house after the trouble he had before.’

  ‘Vehicles do get left in that road as, if you remember, there’s a row of cottages nearby with no off-road parking. Or perhaps various bods had been taking it in turns to watch, had parked elsewhere and were on foot. Whatever happened, it must have been a lot more covert than before.’

  ‘But you’ve checked what’s going on at home?’ I asked with a pang of alarm.

  ‘Oh, yes, no sign of either of them. Dinna fret.’

  ‘Will you write a report for David Campbell?’

  ‘I shall have to as arrangements will have to be made to protect both Forrester and his aunt. What Forrester said was probably more helpful to him than to us anyway. At least we’ve confirmed that the order to ambush us came from the club and that Carrick was tailed to Bath. Jigsaw bits, that’s all.’

  ‘We have the name of one of the bartenders – Kit. Not to mention Kev. Kev could be questioned,’ I suggested.

  ‘I’ll leave that up to Campbell – if he can find anyone big enough to have him picked up and they’re up to date with their typhoid jabs.’ This was followed by a cold-blooded chuckle.

  ‘You don’t think he’s that important, then.’

  Patrick took his gaze off the road for a moment to give me a surprised stare. ‘Oh, come on! Do you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s merely the club’s in-house bone-head, follows orders and knows nothing.’

  ‘Just testing,’ I murmured.

  We had been given a glimpse of Hamsworth and I did not like what I had seen.

  Despite being presented with this evidence, together with what we had overheard at Jingles, DI Campbell was angry and told Patrick that he would be making an official complaint to SOCA. I gathered that Patrick was very polite, helpfully provided him with Commander Greenway’s name and did not – I asked him – point out something along the lines of all police departments having their ‘Life on Mars’ moments. In truth, for him, he had handled Forrester extremely gently.

  That evening, Joanna rang.

  ‘You reminded me that I used to be a cop,’ she began by saying to me. ‘So I did a little investigating. I contacted Robert, James’s father, to see if James was still there. He wasn’t. I know it’s terrible to doubt the word of someone you love but I’m sure something’s going on. James only stayed for a few hours and was asking him questions about a London criminal – he didn’t say who. If you remember Robert used to work for F9. Then he left and Robert has an idea he’s gone to Scotland.’

  ‘Any guesses as to why?’ I asked.

  ‘I can only think that it’s in connection with this same person – although, obviously, he has friends there.’

  ‘So the trail’s gone cold, as the cliché goes.’

  ‘Not necessarily. One of James’s friends is a DI in Strathclyde Police – Neil Macpherson. I met him some time ago before James and I were married. They met at a course run by the drug squad when they were both in the Met. So I phoned him. At first he sort of stonewalled me and then might have remembered that I indirectly helped him by demolishing his best line of enquiry in connection with an attempted murder case he was working on – I won’t bore you with the details – and told me that he had seen James and given him some information about a recent murder thought to be a gangland killing following the discovery of a body in a flat in the Broomielaw. That’s all he’d say, other than he doesn’t think James plans to stay in Glasgow for very long.’

  ‘Is Macpherson leading the investigation, do you know?’

  ‘He was cagey about that too – probably terrified I’ll stick my nose in again – but I got the impression he is.’

  ‘Do you know where this nick’s situated?’

  ‘Brig Street. It’s near the river. The murder took place in Crimea Street.’

  ‘You really must rejoin the police,’ I fervently told her. ‘How’s the wee one?’

  ‘Much more settled, thank God. I’m actually getting some sleep.’

  ‘I’m not of a mind to go chasing after him,’ Patrick said, albeit with a hint of regret. ‘He must be checking on the Scottish wing, if indeed there is one, of Hamsworth’s empire. Any thoughts?’

  I said, ‘It might be that as a body was found at a place where presumably this man used to live he’s abandoned Scotland and brought any henchmen down south to re-establish the Raptors gang in either Bath or London, or even both. Travelling around to continually give the police the slip is all very well but it doesn’t make for good control. But, now I think of it, the flat in Ealing had had what you said someone described as a small fire, so perhaps he’s bailed out of there too. Wasn’t there another address in Manchester?’

  ‘Sorry, I forgot to tell you – it was repossessed recently after the rent hadn’t been paid for ages.’

  ‘So where the hell does he live now – above the club?’

  ‘That’s unlikely, too easy to trace.’

  ‘Someone’s going to have to get hold of Cooper and question him.’

  Someone did, but cut his throat instead.

  TEN

  Cooper’s body was discovered by a council worker three days later, dumped in a skip intended for scrap metal at a recycling site in the Lower Bristol Road, a hundred yards or so from his house. Early findings revealed that he had been dead for only a matter of hours, which meant that he had been killed during the early hours of that morning.

  ‘He was of far more use to us alive than dead,’ Patrick commented after we had received the news from Lynn Outhwaite.

  Despite what had happened, I knew Patrick was not even indirectly involved with the killing. This was not just because he had spent the previous night securely tucked up in bed avec moi after a couple of days at HQ in London where he had worked on something else, the Bath assignment having temporarily hit the wall.

  ‘Cutting throats isn’t my style,’ Patrick added, as though I needed convincing.

  ‘Look, I know you didn’t do it,’ I exclaimed. ‘Hamsworth has to be responsible.’

  ‘Punishment after what happened at the club, perhaps. It being closed for the foreseeable future must have cut off a good source of income.’

  ‘Why blame Cooper, though?’

  ‘Possibly because he had been left in charge and was handy to inflict a filthy temper on.’

  ‘Did you find out if David Campbell had made a complaint against you?’

  ‘He hasn’t so far. But Greenway was annoyed with me as well when I told him I’d spoken to Forrester. I asked him how the hell I was supposed to advance the investigation if I had to stick to all the rules and he told me to get Campbell on side. I just wish to God that Carrick would re-surface – if only to give me a bit of support.’

  With this in mind it was a little weird when, a couple of hours later that morning, Patrick’s mobile rang and it was DI Campbell. Would we both care to attend the Manvers Street police station with regard to his latest case?

  He was in Carrick’s office, understandable in the circumstances as his own had been hastily created out of a store room with only just enough space for a desk, filing cabinet and small set of shelves. If he had more than one visitor the door had to be left open with a chair placed in the space.

  ‘We’ve found what is almost certainly the murder weapon,’ was his opening remark after brusquely wishing us good day.

  ‘Where?’ Patrick wanted to know.

  ‘In the same skip as the body. It presumably had been thrown in and being small had found its way to the bottom of the pile of scrap metal.’ He took a specimen bag that had been
lying in an open drawer and placed it on the top of the desk for us to see.

  Patrick whistled softly.

  It was a skene dhu, a sgian dubh, one of the small knives that Scotsmen wearing highland dress tuck into their hose, long socks. The blade was dark with blood.

  ‘Have you seen this before?’ the DI asked.

  Patrick shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘I know full well, as he told me himself, that Carrick sometimes wears the kilt and would have one of these. Also that the pair of you are friends of his and might be able to recognize it.’

  Again, Patrick shook his head. ‘This, to my certain knowledge, does not belong to James Carrick. His does not have a stag’s antler handle – this one could even be made of plastic – but is plain polished horn. This blade is stainless steel and I think James’s is not – you can get a better edge on hardened carbon steel.’

  ‘You’ve seen it?’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  The DI got to his feet and left the room with the exhibit, presumably to give it to someone to send off to the lab. When he returned, he said, ‘You seem very sure. There’s nothing to say that the man doesn’t have two.’

  ‘It’s just not to his taste. There’s some kind of phony jewel, a chunk of glass, set into the end of the handle. That’s not James’s style either.’

  ‘But he and Cooper do have history.’

  ‘Which Paul Mallory is more than aware of. I suggest you question him.’

  ‘I was checking up on all that before you arrived.’

  ‘I rather get the impression that you think Carrick could possibly have killed this man.’

  ‘I’m only trying to eliminate him from the inquiry.’

  ‘You are doubting your own boss!’

  ‘Cooper did put Mallory up to almost killing the woman who is now Carrick’s wife,’ Campbell responded stubbornly.

  We had agreed that we would say nothing, yet, to Campbell about the pair of them having taken it in turns to park outside Carrick’s house. Nor the fact that Joanna had received photographs of James taken at Jingles night club with a semi-naked female in extremely close proximity. Had he finally snapped?

  Patrick said, ‘This has all been carefully orchestrated right from the beginning, but probably not by Cooper. He was used too, all of it as a war of attrition against the local senior policeman and to divert attention away from the fact that this mobster is moving his scene of operations to Bath. Cooper’s murder is the latest development in an attempt to implicate Carrick in crime. No doubt he had served his purpose and they made further use of him by killing him.’