Bad Sons (Booker & Cash Book 1) (20 page)

He was trying to confuse me. ‘I have no idea how he ended up in there. Perhaps it was the two men who he was here with last night. Don’t forget I’ve spent the night tied up in some remote agricultural building and I’ve obviously been injured, again.’

He almost sneered. ‘You have made some wild and unsubstantiated claims about last night. Conveniently, there are no witnesses.’

‘What? Are you saying you don’t believe me?’ I was incredulous. I looked from one to the other of them but got nothing out of it. ‘That would make me insane then, to have imagined all that and then physically injured myself. We’re not disputing the fact that Detective Cash came and collected me from Appledore this morning, are we?’

‘No. But we only have your word for how you came to be there. It wouldn’t have been a difficult thing to manufacture.’

‘What about the van I was taken in?’ I said.

They shared a look. Jo said, ‘There is no record of that number on file for any vehicle. Could you have got it wrong?’

‘No. That was it. Positive. The old boy that cut me free this morning then?’

Sprake sniffed. ‘We’ll try and find him, if he exists.’

I changed my mind. ‘You’re not coming in. And I won’t be speaking to you again without a lawyer present.’

He smiled nastily then. ‘I’m the police, Mr Booker. If I want to enter your property I’m going to.’

I stood numbed by his logic and where it had taken him. He walked past me and into the building. Jo treated me to one last frustrated look and followed him in. A police constable whose approach I hadn’t registered came to stand by me. If he’d seen the state of my feet he wouldn’t have looked like he expected me to do a runner.

Things were going from bad to worse.

***

29

I didn’t go back in, preferring the pungent mild air of spring to the foul oppressive atmosphere of having CID once again snooping around making me feel guilty.

They were back out quickly. Too quickly. Sprake was holding a little plastic bag up in front of him like a child who’s won a goldfish at the fair. I think he wanted me to take an interest. I obliged him. There was a key on a short length of electrical earth sleeve – I recognised the combination of green and yellow striping from a past life.

‘What’s that?’

‘You tell me, Mr Booker.’

‘Never seen it before.’ I wasn’t lying.

‘It looks like a padlock key to me.’

I waited. I was getting hotter by the second and my heartbeat had picked up.

‘It looks like a key to a padlock just like the one we took off that container door. They’re a bit different from the normal, you understand.’

We stood facing each other.

Sprake told the constable to go and get the padlock. He trotted off.

‘I’ve never seen it before. Where was it?’

‘I heard you the first time. In the shop.’ He kept his accusing cod eyes on me.

I looked past him to where Jo was standing, arms folded across her chest. Her brow was furrowed where her eyebrows were being pulled downwards. The look she had for me was devoid of any encouragement.

The constable returned. The padlock was in a bag too. Sprake handed the bag with the key to Jo and pulled out a pair of plastic gloves from his pocket. When he slapped them on he did what we’d all being waiting for. The key fitted and turned smoothly. Just to make sure, Sprake did it twice more. They all looked at me. Sprake’s cod face twisted into something resembling a victorious grin exposing not very nice teeth. And then I made my second stupid mistake of the morning – I went for him.

I will always be grateful to Jo that she was the sort of officer who had a sixth sense for trouble. She got quickly between us, snuffing out my lunge. For good measure she gave me the heel of her hand sharply into my injured ribs. And that was it. Game over. I was incapacitated, turned, restrained, handcuffed in seconds.

When I next made eye contact with Sprake he looked disappointed. I think he was hoping I would lose control and, like an idiot, I’d played right into his hands. But Jo’s reactions had deprived him of what he really wanted: me to assault him.

I snarled, over Jo’s shoulder at him. ‘You put that in there.’

‘Don’t make it worse for yourself, sonny.’

‘I’ve never seen it before. You bent bastard.’

Sprake cut off my protestations: ‘David Booker, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’ He waited a long moment. ‘Well? Anything?’

‘Fuck you.’

Sprake tutted. ‘Potty mouth. Get him in the car.’

*

Next time I saw either Sprake or Jo was across a grubby, scarred little table in a police interview room. It wasn’t the same interview room I’d been in twice before. This one was devoid of any natural light. It was a floor lower and made the previous room I’d seen the inside of seem positively five star accommodation in comparison.

My solicitor sat alongside me. Mr Chapman had assured me he would be sending the best they had. She certainly carried an air of confidence. She and Sprake clearly knew each other. Their greeting was more healthily adversarial than friendly. I got the distinct impression they had crossed swords before. I hoped that wouldn’t work against me.

For the benefit of the recording, I was asked to give my name and address and say if I understood the charge. I provided the information and acknowledged that I did. I was asked about my movements for the previous evening. I detailed them as I had for Jo earlier. I left nothing out and did not exaggerate. I didn’t have to. Sprake asked what I could tell them about the find of the key that fit the container’s padlock – a container in which a dead man had been found. It had been confirmed that the dead man was Flashman the younger. Mrs Hunt told me that was something I didn’t need to answer. I said I couldn’t but I’d like to hazard a guess. I wanted alternatives to my involvement recorded and I didn’t trust the police to voice them on my behalf.

‘There are only two ways it could have turned up there: either the men who Flashman was working with killed him and left the key in the shop to incriminate me in his death – they had access after they had assaulted me and taken me away – or you put it there for your own distorted reasons.’ I’d been addressing Sprake. It felt a childish thing to say.

‘And where would I have got it from?’

‘You tell me.’

He didn’t. He ignored it.

During my waiting, I had been thinking more constructively about the probable events from the previous night and the reasons behind them. ‘It had to be them. They dumped me in the middle of nowhere. I’m quite sure that they intend or intended to return, get what information they could out of me and then disappear me. With me missing and the key to the container found on my property they might have expected the police to take the easy option.’

‘Assuming you’re telling the truth about last night, why would they have driven you off and just dumped you in the middle of nowhere?’

‘My client can’t answer that, Detective Inspector.’

‘Why would I kill him?’ I said, getting back to what was of most importance to me.

‘Maybe he saw something involving you and the so far unexplained deaths of your relatives. His yard is just over the back of your property. He comes and goes.’

He was back pushing my buttons. But I wasn’t about to go for him again, not with the memory of Jo’s jab still throbbing beneath my shirt. And I was past it. I knew his game now and I was going to refuse to play. Better late than never.

‘The only reason their deaths remain unexplained is because the police aren’t doing enough to find out who killed them.’ I risked a glance at Jo. She remained an impassive observer. ‘How would I have managed to get all the way out to Appledore with no transport and tied myself up in a barn? And why? Why would I have done that?’

‘Off hand I can think of four ways you could get yourself out there under cover of darkness with a window of several hours. Why is obvious. Our problem is that we still only have your word for events. No witnesses.’

‘Find the old man.’

‘First, we have to find the barn. That’s proving a little difficult from your directions.’

‘Maybe I invented that too?’

Mrs Hunt gently laid her hand on my arm. I shut up.

‘Inspector, other than the rather convenient key, do you have any other grounds for detaining my client?’

‘We’re working on it, Mrs Hunt.’ He wasn’t sounding so full of himself. ‘We’ll do a few tests, take a few samples, fingerprints, and then see where we are.’

‘May I suggest you do those quickly then. It seems perfectly probable to me that my client’s record of events would suggest that, as the men who assaulted him had free entry to his property, they almost certainly left the key to incriminate him in Mr Flashman’s murder.’

And that was about it. I was removed, fingerprinted and given my own cell.

*

Jo was with the uniformed officer who unlocked my door some hours later. How many, I had no idea. I had been semi-dozing on the rigid plastic surface that passed for a bed – ironically clearly designed not to encourage sleep. She looked tired and less than happy. I signed for my things and was led away to the front lobby feeling awkward about earlier.

‘Does this mean the police know I didn’t kill him?’ I said.

‘No. It means the police haven’t found any evidence to suggest you did.’

‘You found the barn?’

She nodded.

‘What about the old boy?’

She shook her head. That was strange.

‘Did he report me being there?’

‘No reports anywhere.’

We stood in silence for a pregnant pause.

She said, ‘The barn is owned by Flashman.’

‘That explains why I was taken there then. But I don’t understand why the old boy didn’t report it.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be there either.’

Maybe he wasn’t. I’d experienced similar thoughts.

‘We found evidence of your incarceration there.’

‘That’s something, I suppose.’

‘How are you feeling, physically?’

I smiled a small one at her. ‘Better, thanks. They got the duty doctor to look at my feet. She bandaged me up. My ribs aren’t so bad, despite your attentions, but I’m missing my meds.’

I could see through the station doors that it was dark outside and probably had been for a few hours.

‘Want a lift home?’

‘I thought you weren’t a taxi service.’

‘Yes or no.’

‘Yes, please.’

She must have been leaving anyway because we went straight to her car. I waited until we were on our way before I spoke again.

‘You saved me from making a very big mistake today. Thank you. If you hadn’t come between us, I’d probably be spending the night there.’

‘And the rest. You really have got to do something about your temper. I think the DI was less than pleased with me for stopping you.’

I shook my head in the gloom of the interior at my stupidity.

‘You don’t think I had anything to do with Flashman’s death or my relatives’ deaths, do you?’

‘I’ve already told you and I haven’t seen anything to change my mind. But you’ve got to understand the police must do their job and officers like DI Sprake will consider everyone a suspect until facts and evidence make that possibility an impossibility. Just because he’s questioning you doesn’t automatically mean he’s certain you’re guilty of anything. But he’s got to do it and do it his way.’

‘I know. Look, I’m sorry about today. It won’t happen again. I know I’m innocent. I’ll just have to wait for the police to arrive at that understanding too. Are you anywhere with it?’

‘Can’t discuss it with you.’

‘Fine. I’m starving. How about you let me buy you dinner? Just as a thank you for coming to collect me this morning.’

She didn’t answer immediately. She negotiated a bit of traffic.

‘All right. What have you got in mind?’

I was made suddenly very happy.

‘A change of scenery. You know The Woolpack out at Brookland?’

She shook her head.

‘Good. Great food. Good beer. Nice old place and no one will know me.’

***

30

Tracky bottoms, stinking running trainers and an old once-white T-shirt I’d washed often with colours did not seem appropriate for the occasion. We called in at home so I could change into something a little more respectable and get my wallet.

The shop’s front door was still unlocked from the previous night. I rectified that. I felt fortunate I hadn’t had extra unwanted visitors throughout the day, helping themselves to the stock or anything else that took their fancy.