C.T. Brown - Second Time Lucky? (4 page)

The
other three lieutenants were not going to be free until after lunch so I
suggested to Davey that we go and speak to one of their tamed Police officers.

Detective
Chief Inspector Donaldson sat hunched over his double mocha frappachino in
Starbucks as if he could somehow make himself smaller and thus stand less chance
of being seen with Davey and me. Pretty quickly it was obvious he had something
to hide, whether it was directly related to the murder or not I did not know. I
got the impression he was the type of copper who had risen to his current rank
not so much through hard work and breaking tough cases as by doing favours and
cosying
up to the right people. However, while I could see
that the man was clearly telling us porkies Davey seemed to be accepting every
word. Even he was not that stupid. From the DCI's story the car had somehow
avoided being caught on any traffic cameras or any other CCTV in the area,
no-one had seen the car either - it had just vanished into thin air. Yeah,
right. With Davey nodding at every utterance and adding the occasional
encouraging comment there was clearly little point in carrying on the
conversation.

We
returned to his dad's house and interviewed the rest of his lieutenants, they
all told the same story. Our driver was a kiss arse who sucked up to the most
senior people he could find and, in most cases, he soon started offering to do
things to help them and suggested something a step too far. All of the
lieutenants had alibis for the night of the disappearance, all easy to confirm
too. Their alibis for every moment on from the following morning were easy
too,
they had all been heavily involved in the search for
Carmen. By the time we were done it was after nine in the evening, Davey told
me to go find somewhere to stay and to be back at the house by eight in the
morning if I dared. "Alternatively you could just run, you know." he
had said, sneering. "One day in and you've got nothing. If you ain't got
an answer by tomorrow evening my dad's going to kill you."

"Why
would I run Davey? I've got plenty today, I'm pretty sure I know what happened
now. Just need to confirm a few things in the morning and I'll be ok." I
certainly hoped I sounded certain when I said it because he was right, I had
nothing. Then I noticed something, his smiled slipped ever so slightly and the
look in his eyes hardened but he had nothing to say. Did he know something? He
and his sister had never got on but would he really hide something about his
sister's murder? He had never approved of me either but did he dislike me enough
to let the real killer of his sister get away?

Another
night in the car did me no good, lack of sleep was becoming a problem and I was
pretty sure I could now knock someone unconscious by simply raising my
arms,
ripe did not begin to cover it. Disturbing dreams had
interrupted my night repeatedly, dreams and memories of how Davey and Carmen
had always seemed to have something bad between them – something I had never
got to the bottom of. Davey had been clear that I needed to be at his father's
for eight, instead I made a call saying I'd be a bit late and hung up as he
started ranting about tracking me down and killing me like the dog I was and so
on. Carefully watching Starbucks I saw the crumpled figure of DCI Donaldson
emerge a little after eight-fifteen. It was easy enough to catch up to him on a
quiet street.

"Hello
again."

"What
the . . . oh, you again, where's Davey?"

"Probably
tucked up in bed feasting on a breakfast of crazy pills.
I
need to ask you a few more questions."

"I'm
in a bit of a
hurry,
I'll call Davey and set something
up for later."

I
put my arm out to block his path. "I'd much rather we had a chat
now."

He
puffed himself up and tried a stern look. "I'm a DCI, you mess me about any
more and I can cause you a lot of trouble. I know who you are and I know you're
a wanted man so watch it or I'll nick you."

"You
think you scare me? You dumb bastard. Spigarelli has detailed exactly what
he'll do to me if I don't turn something up pretty quickly, you think being
arrested is a threat when I've got the biggest mobster in the home counties
ready to torture and kill me? And that's not even counting the associates of
that scumbag who ended up stabbed in London. I'm seriously desperate mate and
if you don't start opening up you're going to have some serious problems."

"What
are you going to do? You're some stupid little kid."

"I'm
not going to do anything. I know that you know something so I'm just going to
let Spigarelli know that and then run. Sure he might catch me but he will
definitely catch you. Lie all you like, but he'll get it out of you, Davey
won't be able to stop it. All I have to do is spread some doubt about you and
Davey. He'll grab you and torture you, all the time hoping that whatever is
going on with you and Davey is not connected to Carmen. But he will do it. He
won't be able to help
himself,
the doubt will nag at
him until he does."

"Shit."

"Too
right."
That was when he decided to ring in sick to
work. We went to his smart semi in my Focus and he took me to the front room,
where his safe was unimaginatively hidden behind a painting on the wall. Some
people think they are living in an old movie.

Donaldson
insisted that before he opened it I had to promise I would help him, that he
would not get into trouble over this. Davey had paid him a lot to keep this
quiet so I had to make Spigarelli and son think I had got it from someone else.
I agreed. I did not think there was any chance they would believe that but I
think something had broken inside the guy. Keeping something quiet about all of
this was eating at him, he could not decide if he was more scared of Spigarelli
or Davey or the guilt of keeping it all under wraps. From the look on his face
I suspected he would kill himself once I left. Strangely I did not think about
stopping him - he knew something about the murder of the first woman I had
loved and keeping it quiet had ruined my life and led to the murder of the
second woman I loved, I was not too concerned what happened to him. He handed
me half a dozen CDs and a carrier bag with what looked like sealed evidence
bags inside.

Placing
a quick call I got a little help from an old friend in the area. John Philips
had been at school with Carmen and me, a good friend who had never quite
believed I had anything to do with the murder. We had not been in touch much
because he had not been able to do anything to help with my
investigation,
he was just a normal guy and not connected to the criminal underworld in any
way. After three or four visits from the Police he had just gone quiet, no-one
wants to get caught up in a Police investigation - especially a murder case.
Since I had been out of Prison we had met for a drink a couple of times to
catch up but that was the extent of our friendship. Fortunately he was willing
to let me use his laptop during his lunch break from work and I got to see what
was on the CDs. Once I had, all I need to do was to decide what it all meant
and what to do with the contents and the evidence bags. Well, I also had to decide
what to do with all the disturbing questions it raised too. Worryingly it
suggested potential answers to old questions too, things I had tried not to
think too much about at the time and since.

Mid
afternoon I arrived back at Spigarelli's place. He was angry at the sight of me
but Davey was screaming and shouting at me before I had even stepped out of the
car. Letting them shout for a bit was a good idea because Spigarelli soon got
him temper under control and shouted at Davey to be quiet. "I'm cutting
your time short, it's up now. Show me what you've got or start begging for
mercy." he said to me. I picked up my holdall from the passenger seat of
the car and said we needed a laptop, him, Davey, me and no-one else. Davey made
it clear he thought I should just die then and there but Spigarelli disagreed.

In a
small room inside I carefully laid out the story of what had happened that
night. First I showed the journey of the limo, CCTV footage from the CDs showed
it travelling to a small warehouse Spigarelli owned on the outskirts of
Stevenage. Then I showed the footage from the cameras on the industrial park
where the warehouse was.
The footage showing Carmen being
dragged from the car, kicking and screaming, by the man who had to be her killer.
The man who had raped her repeatedly before stabbing her, who had murdered the
driver to keep him quiet, who had either also killed Emily and Fingers to make
it look like me, or who had ordered those things done.
The
man sitting next to
Spigarelli
.
His son Davey.

By
the time Spigarelli had turned Davey was out of his seat and heading for the
door, he opened it and three of the security guys stepped in. Each carried a
gun and they clearly weren't working for the elder Spigarelli anymore.

"Why,
Davey? Why would you do this?" said
Spigarelli
.
To his credit his voice did not waver even in the face of this whole bunch of
betrayals at once.

"Why?"
shouted Davey. "You blind idiot. This moron was never going to be good
enough for her, no-one ever would be. I tried to protect her, show her how I
cared. She never wanted me, once she was old enough she threatened to tell you
what I'd done to her when we were kids, she thought it was disgusting. It
wasn't. It was an expression of our love but her mind had been poisoned against
me, she didn't understand. I saw this, this . . . pathetic little boy become
her lover and I was supposed to stand by? I couldn't. But she wouldn't
understand. She fought me. I had no choice." His face was bright purple
with the effort of shouting so much, spittle hung from his lips. Then a shot
rang out and a circle of blood appeared on his forehead a moment before the
back of his head exploded all over the wood panelling on the wall behind him.
One of the traitorous security guys dropped his gun, the others raised theirs.
Three rapid shots and Spigarelli and I were the last ones standing in the room,
four bullet holes gaped in the biggest window in the room. After a moment of
the loudest silence I have ever known the door burst open and more goons rushed
in, they looked around and then . . . I don't know because one of them knocked
me silly and they dragged me off and locked me in a small windowless room
somewhere. Soon I lost consciousness altogether.

By
the time I awoke and was led from the room to a nice dining room where I was
seated across a small table from Spigarelli it was morning. Spigarelli looked
at me with even more hatred than before. What now? I had brought him the truth
about his daughter's murder but at a heavy cost, would he kill the messenger?
Had he, like me, spent the night wondering if he should have spotted something
in all the awkwardness between Carmen and Davey over the years.
The way she had flinched if he touched her, the way she always
seemed to be looking for an exit when they were in the same room.
Should
we have seen it coming? Could we have ever believed it was possible?

He
started by explaining that he never had a meeting with desperate people that
wasn't monitored, Kaseem had been sitting in another room listening and
watching everything. One of his most trusted henchmen had been sitting on top
of a van parked outside with a hunting rifle, ready to kill me if I tried
anything. Kaseem had read the situation and changed the henchman's instructions
mid meeting. Spigarelli made it clear that the right thing had been done and
that the CDs and evidence bags (containing all the forensic evidence necessary)
had been passed to the Police. He also stated that there had been a man left
outside by Davey’s associates to stop anyone getting in, Kaseem and the more
loyal goons had managed to subdue him without killing him. Apparently it had
taken some "vigorous effort" to convince him to give all the details
to Spigarelli during the night but he had now managed to locate the men Davey
had hired to set me up in London, the murderers of Emily and Fingers were now
in Police custody - the unfortunate traitor had apparently not survived his
confession. At no point did Spigarelli speak directly about what Davey had done
or the more . . . unsavoury . . . aspects of what had happened to Carmen. Two
of his henchmen entered the room and were ordered to escort me from the
premises.

As I
climbed into my car I was handed a package, inside was a large wad of cash and
a note saying "For your work. Do not come back." Once I was back on
the motorway heading for London I breathed a huge sigh of relief, finally my
nightmare was over, finally I knew what had happened, finally I could build a
new life - but I would be doing it alone. I had to pull over onto the hard
shoulder for a while as I could not see through the tears. Tears of joy and
tears of grief mingled and ran down my face.

About the author:

C T
Brown is an author, archer and photographer - at least that's what he tells
himself while moving numbers around on spreadsheets in his day job as a data
analyst. He is very happily married to his muse and lives in London. His blog
is available at
http://archerctb.wordpress.com
and he can be contacted by email at [email protected]

Coming
Soon:

Sovereign Nation, a full
length adventure novel from C T Brown – see over the page for a free sample.