The Circle Now Is Made (King's Way Book 1) (33 page)

"So they have. Thanks for that Eddy." Greg looked out to see a young lady locking her car and following Cass towards the entrance.

"Hello." Greg put down his drink but remained standing as the pair entered. "I thought you were going to ring?" He shook hands and drew the couple over to a corner of the bar. "Do you want to talk here? It's not very private, I'm afraid."

"Come through to the living quarters," called Eddy. "Vi wouldn't mind if she was about."

"Fine by me," replied Greg.

"Does Eddy want to join us?" asked Cass. "I'd prefer it."

"No problem with me," agreed Eddy. "Watch the bar for me lads, but don't overdo the freebies."

"Right," said Cass quietly, almost shyly, as they seated themselves in the living quarters. "The first thing I must put on the table is that I'm now a registered drug addict on release from a detox clinic. I've been clean for almost a month..."

"That's brilliant; it's great to see you looking so well," said Greg. "I wouldn't have the transformation possible in the time, but you've no need to dwell on your addiction; certainly not for me."

"I know, but
I'm
happier doing it." Greg watched Cass smile for the first time since he'd met him, and it was significant that Tammy grinned anxiously at the same time, probably in anticipation of Cass's following words. "But I need you to listen for a few minutes. I swear it won't take long."

"Point taken." Greg said no more: he could almost feel Cass's nerves jangling.

"Well firstly my recovery programme requires me to make amends. I don't have to break my neck, but I want to get it over. I know you weren't exactly Mr Personality during our journey, Greg, but I was horrible - inconsiderate and deceitful."

"But…"

Cass held up his hand. "No, I was deceitful. You must know by now that I had drugs in the back, and worse still that I left you to carry the can - literally. I'll be honest and admit I couldn't believe my luck when you made me get out of the car before border control. I dreaded carrying the consignment through even though I'd struck a deal with drugs squad: I don't have complete faith in anyone yet, and I'm not sure I ever will." Greg nodded as Cass went on to explain how he'd become a fugitive in Spain "rather than a castaway," and how he'd survived and supported his habit by sleeping rough and doing menial work – as well as thieving. He'd reached a stage, he admitted, where he was considering returning home to face the music, when along came an extraordinary opportunity.

"I had a call on my mobile in the middle of the night, which was a shock in itself, because I hadn't used it in months. The only reason it was charged was because I'd considered calling Tammy here, and I only answered because I felt sure it was her." Cass paused, recalling his horror on being informed it was a drug squad officer from the UK. "I felt immediately that he must be genuine; I'd bought the handset in Spain and never actually used it, so only someone with their methods could have linked me with that number: At first I denied my identity
-
said I'd found the phone. But the caller stopped me in my tracks, insisting he wanted to help! Firstly, he said it might be possible to get me back home without the threat of prison. I still didn't trust him and continued to lie - till he described my exact location and said he could get me
rolled up
by Spanish police within minutes. I knew then he was serious." Cass paused to light a cigarette and take a long draught from his beer. "Then I saw the positive side. I know first-hand what drugs and dealers do to folks' lives. I'm really bitter about it and any chance to help in the downfall of traffickers constituted a form of revenge - though I can't pretend regaining my freedom didn't play an even larger part. Anyway, I still refused to trust him, so he arranged to come and see me. Turned up a few days later on a twenty-four hour return flight, and I met him near Barcelona airport. I was in a dreadful state as you know but I liked the bloke, and he had all the cred. Said all I'd have to do would be to accompany an under-surveillance consignment back to Plymouth. On completion I'd be collected and taken to a recovery clinic, my record would be clean and the drugs would be confiscated by police. All that did happen."

"He must have wanted something in return, though?" interrupted Greg.

"Pics, and names, for identification was all he asked. It all seemed so plausible, especially when he explained they were in it for the long haul, not instant arrests."

"So that was why you were taking snaps like a Japanese tourist?" asked Greg who'd listened patiently and was reluctant to interrupt. "Where was the problem?" 

"The guy I met back in Plymouth was straight enough, and everything went to plan. He even went into the clinic with me. It wasn't until just over a week ago…"

Cass hesitated and looked at Tammy opposite.

"I was visiting Cass when I got a picture-message from a girl at NA," continued Tammy. "It was a selfie - her and another girl from the group. Daft really; sort of junk you see on Facebook, but there was a guy in the background who Cass recognized immediately…"

Cass took over again briefly. "It was the guy who met me in Barcelona. We have the picture with us."

"For reasons of anonymity we have to be careful what we say outside meetings," said Tammy guiltily. "I'm not saying the guy's an addict. We don't do that, it's the individual's place to decide, but he attended meetings for a few weeks. But when Cass told me he'd met the man I realised how he'd contacted him: he'd stolen his details from me. I had coffee with this guy a few times, and left my mobile unattended with him last time we met. I'm sure he recruits mules from recovery centres and the like. And I'm equally sure he used Cass to carry a consignment for him: he'd have disowned him had things gone shit-shaped… ‘Goldie’ I knew the man as. I felt safe with him cos he was gay..."

"Have you told police?" cut in Greg with consternation. "It's clear from what you say that all the gang
haven't
been rounded up."

"No." Cass looked worried. "I can't handle it at the moment; I feel so two-faced, and it's not helping my recovery. I could do without this sort of shit right now."

Greg and Eddy exchanged serious glances on examining the picture but said nothing, and Eddy spoke for the first time since the outset. He looked again at Greg as if for confirmation before saying: "Leave it with us for now, Cass. Don't speak to anyone else." He laid his own mobile on the table. "Text me a copy of the pics and we'll see what can be done. Meanwhile, I'll contact someone who might help us see through walls."

"Elaine," asked Eddy quietly as his call was answered, "sorry to bother you again…"

***

 The Ranger pulled into an alley at the rear of
Baxter S
treet, some two hundred yards from Edgecumbe House. Greg and Eddy then went quietly through the walkway to the imposing block, and took the stairway to the top floor. Greg shuddered as they neared Nigel's empty flat, though apart from incident tape across the door, things appeared to have returned to normal.

"As near to normal as things do, in these circumstances," observed Greg.

"All the cameras were out on the day of the deaths." Eddy pointed to the CCTV camera as they glanced around the lift area. "According to Elaine they might still be."

"Mmm." Greg wasn't sure whether that was good or bad news. "I'd like a look at the DVR - to get an idea how the setup could have failed so conveniently."

"DVR… Digital recorder you mean? OK, let's have a word with the caretaker. Just want a look at something first, though." Eddy walked through a door into an enclosed hallway overlooking Baxter Street. Apart from the fact that it was fully-glazed for child-safety, it offered a similar facility to a balcony. "No name on the block opposite. Remind me to take a look before we leave. Something else Elaine mentioned."

Greg nodded but said nothing, puzzled by Eddy's remark.

Considering a major crime had been committed in his block, the old chap on the ground floor, was remarkably amenable to the two
Security Technicians,
and opened a compartment no bigger than a broom-cupboard to allow access to the
control centre
.

"Not exactly Jodrell Bank, is it?" said Greg as he surveyed the controls. "Just an ancient analogue timer; probably installed when the block was built. There are separate camera-switches for each floor, and an eight channel DVR for recording. The recorder itself's done more mileage than the Tardis, but it's state-of-the-art compared to the rest. It only stopped working because the timer fuse was flipped out at…." Greg looked closely at the clock, "ten: ten o’clock the morning before the event, I'd say. It was a Wednesday, anyway." He pointed to a tiny arrow denoting days on the revolving face.

"Can you repair it?" asked the ageing man. "I know the 'orse's bolted, but we could do wi' system workin' again."

"I think so," said Greg. There was a ‘ping’ as he clicked the fuse back into its slot and reset the timer. "Job's a good 'un."

"Are you full time janitor here?" asked Eddy.

"Full time? Janitor?" He laughed aloud. "You're jokin'? I gets a rent reduction for moppin' floors an' takin' in post; bloody 'ell there's on'y fifteen flats in the block!"

"Sorry." Eddy saw the funny side. "I thought you might have looked out for other blocks in the road. Tell me, wasn't this street in the news a bit back? Didn't the authorities move a sex offender called Smout here…"

"Bastard's still 'ere," cut in the old man, "block opposite, though I reckon they'll be forced to move 'im for his own good, soon."

"Hope they do," replied Eddy as he and Greg opened the main doors to leave.

 *

 Greg wasn't happy to receive a call from DCI Tooth of Plymouth CID the following morning. He'd already learned from Elaine that the Ulster had been seen leaving Baxter Street at speed on the night of the shooting.

"So you no longer believe it was Jacky who pulled the trigger?" he pumped.

"It doesn't really matter
what
I believe," replied Tooth cagily. "It's what happened that's important. I'd like to come and see you at Penmaric House as soon as possible: there are things we all need to discuss. I've taken the unprecedented step of asking DIs Jeffries and Oldfield from drugs to attend also; hopefully we can piece things together between us. We'll be there at two."

Greg realised immediately that his and Eddy's visit to Edgecumbe House had been clocked.

"The old janitor's obviously much brighter than we gave him credit for," he said to Eddy on the phone. "If they do arrest me…" Greg shuddered at the thought. "Will you carry on digging around? You're the only chance I have."

"I should have something soon, anyway, but they can't arrest you without more evidence. An eye-witness to a car you don't even own is hardly proof of murder. And it's
got
to be Skuce!" Eddy paused. "We should be careful what we're saying on the phone, so I'll be round to see you as soon as I have more info. You're not going down, believe me."

*

Greg wasn't so sure when Tooth - grey, emaciated yet genial, arrived several minutes early, followed by Jaff and Graham. Greg led them into the library, sat them at a large Victorian reading table, and asked a maid to bring in drinks.

"Right, I just need to clear some things up," said Tooth as he opened a laptop on the inclined leather surface. "I'm hoping we can fill in a few blanks between us."

"I'm baffled that you're wasting time questioning me," said Greg as he waited. "Surely it's common knowledge that Skuce killed Nigel and Jackie. He had the motive, the inclination
and
the malice."

"It might well be, but
you
never mentioned being at the flat on the night of the deaths," said Jaff. "This isn't my department, but you also have a motive for murder: you had every reason to believe Nigel had set you up to carry drugs."

"I shouldn't digress at this point," cut in Tooth, carefully observing the faces of each man as he spoke. "But there's another complication: Vance, it emerged from a post-mortem, didn't die of natural causes as was first suspected. I can't give full details, but there's forensic evidence to show that his drip-bag was perforated. From the diameter of the hole we're sure it was made with an Ultrafine 31 gauge needle; the type diabetics use."

"So a substance was injected
into
the drip?" queried Oldfield.

"I can't say at this moment," said Tooth, irritated - it seemed - that he'd mentioned Vance's demise at that stage.

"Wasn't cocaine, by any chance?" snorted Jaffa. "Someone wanted to pay him back, if so."

"It won't surprise me if it was, but back to Baxter Street first," insisted Tooth. "You, Greg, still haven't explained what you were doing there that night - or whether the occupants were alive or dead when you arrived."

"Nigel was dead; I never saw Jackie," replied Greg firmly. "I know I shouldn't have legged it, but I was terrified. I thought I was wanted over the drug business."

"That's exactly the reply I'd have expected," said Tooth slowly… and knowingly.