Carnal Acts (35 page)

Evie was in her room, the door locked. After the police officers had left, she went back through the passage that ended in the basement. One of her lunatic ancestors had built it so he could slip out of the drawing room through a panel. The wood was thin and she heard every word that was said. She bit down on the fingers she’d stuffed in her mouth and tasted blood after her bitch mother admitted she’d had sex with Nick during the Easter vac. She sobbed, but managed to keep the noise down, even though she wanted to scream and push the panel open and claw her mother’s eyes out.

After holding her damaged hand under the cold tap and wrapping it in a hand towel, Evie managed to get her
breathing
under control. She lay on the floor, trying to visualise Nick as he lowered himself over her, into her – but he wasn’t there, she couldn’t bring him back. Her mother had destroyed even her memory of him. Evie wept for a time, and then pulled herself together. She went to her bedside table and picked up her notebook and the Parker pen Nick had left behind on the first day they made love – they didn’t ‘have sex’. She hadn’t had the chance to give it back to him. Then she wrote down what she could remember of the police questions. The fact that her parents had refused to let them speak to her made her suspicious.

But not as much as what they’d said about Dan and Cheryl Reston. For a start, her father hadn’t taken them anywhere.
Cheryl had been cleaning in the Hall that morning as usual, and she’d seen Dan drive the red Hilux to the old tower. Then there was the lie about the dogs. It was true that Andrew had asthma. What he hadn’t said was that Dan Reston had a pair of vicious Dobermans he took with him on his drives round the estate. He kept them down at the old dowager house where he and Cheryl lived. It was obvious why her father had refused to allow the police to search the place.

Evie looked out the window. It was on the rear of the Hall and had an uninspiring view of the outhouses. Only the sandstone trunk of the old tower to the right provided some interest. It struck her that there had been more coming and going than usual recently. Mostly at night. There were no lights in the vicinity, so she hadn’t seen anything when she’d peeked between the curtains. But she was sure she’d heard the heavy steel door clang to several times. What was going on? As far as she knew, the building was full of old furniture and farm equipment, and had been declared unsafe.

She had two options. The first was to rat on her parents to the police; she had no qualms about doing that – they deserved everything they got. The second, which was more attractive, was to find out what was going on herself. She owed that to Nick. She was sure he’d been seduced by her lascivious mother and hadn’t been able to resist.

Before she left for uni, Evie was going to have a reckoning with Andrew and, especially, Victoria.

Joni was still in the MCU when Pete Rokeby came in.

‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she said.

‘Found stuff in the Hilux that the factor Reston drives.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘The floor of the cargo area is scratched all over and the bars behind the cab have regular dents in them, like from chains. And there were scratch marks on the paint on the cargo area and tailgate.’

Joni didn’t get his drift. ‘And?’

‘There were short black hairs on the metalwork. I took samples and gave them to the SOCOs, but I’m pretty sure what they are.’ He grinned. ‘Bow wow.’

‘So Favon lied about Reston.’ Joni checked her notes. ‘Or maybe. What he said was he didn’t think Reston had dogs.’

‘Could be an honest mistake.’

‘Could be. But he was very keen we didn’t go to the factor’s house.’

Rokeby sat down. ‘Let’s do some theorising.’

Joni smiled. ‘My favourite. But not Mrs Normal’s.’

‘Too bad. She’ll be off at some function with the local big heads. Or wigs. How about this? Reston’s dog – I’m thinking a big, fierce mutt – tore out Gary Frizzell’s throat. Then Reston cut off his head and hands, and dumped the body in the Coquet.’

‘What’s missing is a…’

‘Motive. I know. Here goes. The victim’s tall and handsome – we’ve seen photos. Maybe he was involved with Lady Favon.’

‘She’s got the track record. But as far as we know she hasn’t killed any of her previous studs.’

Pete Rokeby gave her sceptical look. ‘As far as we know. This time the victim’s mates kicked up a fuss. Plenty of people don’t have friends or relatives who care.’

Joni raised a hand. ‘Leave that for the moment. The initial witness report said Frizzell was put into a Bentley behind the now burnt-out Stars and Bars by the Albanian Fatlum Temo…’

‘Some memory, ma’am.’

‘Thanks – on Friday night around two. If Frizzell was a lover of Lady Vicky, that suggests the Favons have links to the Albanians.’

Rokeby nodded. ‘We already know they do – or at least Reston
does. Wayne Garston, whose company is owned by the Spahia clan, told us Reston used his labourers.’

‘On behalf of the Favon estate.’ Joni leaned back in her chair. ‘Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way, Pete. Maybe Reston is the main player, not his employers.’

‘What, he got his Albanian friends to bring Frizzell to him in a Bentley?’

‘Maybe his wife likes a bit of footballer. Hm, it isn’t too
convincing
. Does Lord Favon give you the impression of being able to manage an estate that size?’

Rokeby laughed. ‘I doubt Lord Favon can tie his own laces.’

Joni looked at him. ‘Going back to Reston’s wife. What do we know about her?’

‘Not much. She works in the Hall, I think’

‘Has she been checked in the databases? Has Reston?’

‘Yeah, he has. Nothing. I don’t know if Eileen looked at the wife. May I?’ He slid his chair closer and tapped at the keys. Soon a file appeared on Joni’s screen. ‘Cheryl Reston, maiden name Duncan. Bloody hell!’

‘She isn’t very attractive, is she?’ Joni peered at the data. ‘Not only that, she’s got twenty-three convictions for soliciting and … shit! … she served two years for inciting child prostitution. All that in Bristol, where she was born.’ She looked at her colleague. ‘Maybe that’s why Lord Favon was so jumpy about the Restons – she’s the problem, not the husband. Or they’re both in it up to their necks. We need to do a door-to-door on the estate and in the vicinity.’

‘Favon’s tenants may not say much.’

‘We’ll try the local pubs. If the Restons are dodgy, someone will have a bad word to say about them.’ She pressed Print and put the report in her bag. ‘Come on, then.’

‘What, now?’

‘Yes, now.’

‘Oh, ma’am.’

‘Call me Joni when we’re on our own.’

The ACC appeared at the door. ‘Working late?’ she said. ‘Most commendable.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Joni said. ‘Actually, we’re off for a drink. Would you like to join us?’ She heard Pete’s sharp intake of breath.

‘No, thanks. I’m taking work home with me. You will make sure you stay under the legal limit, won’t you?’

‘Bitter lemon for me,’ Joni said.

‘I’m an alcohol-free lager man, myself.’

Ruth Dickie stared at them disbelievingly. ‘Good night, then.’ She went to the stairs.

‘Jesus,’ Rokeby said. ‘What if she’d said yes?’

Joni smiled. ‘It’d have been your round.’

Donnie Pepper was half asleep in front of the TV when the phone rang.

‘Aye,’ he mumbled.

‘Bad time?’

‘Is that you, Heck Rutherford?’

‘It is. How the hell are you, you old fart?’

‘Surprisingly sweet smelling.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I’ve never spoken a truer word. What do you want?’

‘Lovely. I ring up a former colleague and I have to want
something
other than ask how he is?’

‘I’m fine, if bored. The wife’s still working so I have to make the dinner every day.’

‘I thought I saw a stick woman in town the other day.’

‘Ha! Actually, I’m a dab hand. Tonight we had coq au vin.’

‘This is a family show.’

‘Idiot. Let’s have it then.’

‘If you insist. Lord Andrew Favon.’

‘Fucking shit-headed nose-in-the-air arsehole.’

‘Let me try and draw that.’

‘No, seriously, Heck, I hate that pillock.’

‘Tell me more.’

‘Must have been a couple of years back. We raided one of Billie Forman’s knocking shops. It was the last time anyone saw that pillock alive. Lots of half-naked women and men pulling up their suit bottoms.’

‘Classy place then?’

‘Classier than most. Anyway, I went through a door on the top floor and who should I find but his nobbing lordship. Still nobbing. Either he’s deaf or he was in transports of delight. I hauled him off and yelled. He had two pairs of nipple clamps wired together. One set was on his – what do the youngsters call them?’

‘Man boobs. Moobs.’

‘Impressive.’

‘My kids know all the choicest patois.’

‘What?’

‘Jargon.’ Heck had picked up the term from Joni.

‘Well, anyway, his nobship had attached one set to himself and the other to the poor woman. She was young and she was crying in pain. I unclamped hers carefully and then pulled his off with extreme prejudice.’

‘What happened?’

‘The bastard grinned.’

‘S&M freak.’

‘Aye. I arrested him under the Sexual Offences Act and made him get dressed. You’ll never believe this. His brief arrived before we got him to the van. Wanker must have had someone monitoring the police channels.’

‘Who was the brief?’

‘That bastard Lennox.’

‘Richard Lennox?’

‘Is there another one?’

‘Interesting.’

‘No, it bloody wasn’t. He rang the senior magistrate and got the fucker excepted from the haul of dishonour. He never went to court.’

‘Friends in, et cetera’

‘Bastards. I hate the way they look after each other. But that’s not all.’

‘Let’s have it.’

‘The girl – she was only seventeen – was taken to hospital. She had serious injuries to her breasts. I went to take a statement the next day, but one of Lennox’s sidekicks was hanging about. The girl wouldn’t talk. It was pretty obvious money had exchanged hands.’

‘It’s a brave new world.’

‘Fucking cowardly old-world thieving wankdogs.’

‘Wankdogs? Haven’t heard that one before.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Anything else on Favon?’

‘Nay, lad. I retired a year later. Things weren’t the same after that night. I reckon Lord F. pulled some senior officer’s chain.’ Donnie Pepper paused. ‘How are you, Heck? Over that op?’

‘Getting there. Been back at work for a bit. I thought Corham MCU would be quieter than the big city. It was until last week.’

‘I’ve been following the stories. Getting anywhere?’

‘This conversation’s been a help.’

‘I’m glad. Listen, Heck. I didn’t want to bother you with this, but since you’re on the line – I heard from the lads I keep up with in the Force that Ned Sacker’s fuckwit brother’s got it in for you in a big way.’

‘Not So Lucky?’

‘Aye, Ian to his mam. He’s been heard saying he’s going to get you for banging up his brother. Pissed, of course.’

‘Not So Lucky hasn’t got the balls, Donnie.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s got some nasty friends, inherited
from that evil bastard Ned. At least that reptile won’t be out for a very long time.’

‘Hey, Donnie, you heard anything about Albanian gangs moving north?’

‘I doubt I know more than you do, Heck. They’re here and they’re staying.’

‘Mm. Even Lee Young said that much.’

‘Lee Young? DCI Balls of Wafer? You don’t want to listen to anything he says. He’s dirtier than … dirt.’

‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard who’s been cosying up to him.’

‘Oh aye.’

‘Who?’

‘The foreigners you just asked me about.’

‘Shit.’

‘In a very large sandwich.’

Morrie Simmons and Nathan Gray were in the Kettle and Vulture between Corham and Newcastle. The former still lived in Gateshead, while his DS’s place was near the airport, north-west of the city.

‘Well, that was a waste of time,’ Gray said. ‘All the Steel Toe Caps have got armour-plated alibis except Goat Skin and he’s suddenly lost his voice.’

Morrie downed his pint and signalled for another round. ‘Fuck’s sake, Nathan. You don’t think that’s a wee bit suspicious?’

His subordinate shrugged. ‘Who cares? We did what we had to do.’

‘There’s one very large problem. The sodding general.’

‘Aye, I wonder where he’s got to.’

‘So do I. None of the tossers claim to have seen him since
the weekend.’ Morrie took another deep drink. ‘Course, there’s a related problem.’

‘What’s that, boss?’ Gray was drinking orange juice. He’d nearly lost his licence the previous year and had only escaped being charged by getting Simmons to pull strings with the uniforms.

Morrie sighed. ‘Etherington will have friends in the SAS and such like. The Steel Toe Caps are boot boys. He’ll be keeping his serious operatives in reserve.’

‘We can’t find what hasn’t shown itself.’

‘Easy for you to say, Nathan. You don’t have to stand up in the briefing and tell that wanker Rutherford we got nowhere.’

‘Don’t worry, boss, you’ll get his job soon enough. Anyone can see he hasn’t got over the scalpel in his belly.’

Morrie emptied his glass. ‘He looks better every day. I remember in the old Newcastle MCU. Lee Young had his nose in every case, but Heck would mope around until something big came up. Then he turned into fucking Sherlock Holmes.’ He punched his DS’s arm. ‘Anyway, you’re forgetting the bitch Jackie Brown.’

‘How did I manage that? I’d really like to…’

‘You’d really like to stick your cock into the old bag behind the bar, Nathan.’

‘Come on, boss. You’d do her if you got the chance.’

‘Jack? Not my type.’

‘What
is
your type, then? I’ve never seen you with a bird.’

Morrie glared. ‘Doesn’t mean I’m not doing it with a lady.’

Nathan frowned. ‘What?’

‘Before your time, lad. Anyway, don’t underestimate Jackie B. She hasn’t only got film-star looks. She’s sharper than you and me put together.’

‘Black and brainy. Bollocks to that.’ Gray grinned. ‘And to her.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort her out with Rutherford. Then the whole MCU will be ours for the taking.’

Nathan Gray looked at his watch. ‘Got to go. Something
moist waiting for me. But you’ve forgotten the main player. Mrs Normal.’

Morrie’s face fell. ‘True. Imagine having to report directly to her.’

‘Exactly. I heard on the grapevine she’s got Lee Young’s nuts in a vice. Seems she’s unhappy about what went on before the Stars and Bars turned to dust. The headless man’s mates?’

‘Is that right? I’d better extend feelers.’

Gray laughed. ‘Speaking of which.’

Morrie Simmons watched him go. His DS was a lazy,
shagging
tosser, but he was well connected. The headless man’s mates had beaten the shit out of an Albanian from the club and been charged. DCI Young had been warned about crossing the line before. Had he done that with the Albanians? Selling your soul to the devil would be a picnic compared with that.