The Crooked Beat (16 page)

‘Nothing.’

‘You weren’t close?’

‘Not really.’

‘Your mum seemed pretty upset by it.’

‘That’s up to her.’

‘You didn’t get on with him?’

‘Take him or leave him, to be honest.’

‘Even though he was your brother?’

He leaned in closer to me. ‘Don’t think you can be coming in here telling me what to think.’

I conceded the point. ‘Did you look for him when he disappeared?’

‘What could I do? He was a grown man. He could do as he pleased.’

‘But you must have been able to have a guess where he went. Places you knew he had friends? Places where you’ve got family?’

He relaxed. ‘Not really.’

‘Did you speak to his mates?’

‘Can’t say I did.’ He finished his pint and slid the empty glass across the table to me. I took it back to the bar, returning with a fresh pint for him. He took a mouthful before speaking. ‘I was working away. What could I do?’

I was genuinely taken back by his attitude. It was his brother. Even after our bust up, I would still do anything for Niall. ‘What about the police?’ I asked him.

Bancroft smiled. ‘The police?’

‘They’d have helped.’

‘Don’t take the piss out of me, Geraghty. You know as well as I do that they don’t give a shit.’

‘Because you’ve got a record?’

‘And the fact he was a grown man who could make his own decisions. My mam contacted them, but that was her lookout.’

‘Nothing happened?’

‘Didn’t give a fuck, did they? We’re scum to them.’ He paused. ‘How’s Don doing these days?’

I leaned forward this time. ‘What’s Don got to do with anything?’

Bancroft smiled again. ‘The card you left had his name on it.’

The old cards. Don Ridley & Son. ‘Why do you want to know about Don?’

He was obviously pleased he knew something I didn’t. ‘Because when our kid went missing he was the only policeman who took it seriously and wouldn’t let it go. Like a dog with a bone, you might say.’

‘Don Ridley?’

‘The very fucking one.’

My talk with Gary Bancroft had left me with more questions. I made slow progress down Anlaby Road towards Don’s house, the city traffic as bad as ever. There was a car parked outside his house. I recognised it straight away as Sutherland’s. As I got closer, I could see Carl Palmer in the driver’s seat. There was no sign of George Sutherland, so I assumed he was inside talking to Don. I drove to the end of the street and parked up. My heart was racing at what it meant. I waited it out. Sutherland left Don’s house about twenty minutes later, getting straight into the passenger seat alongside Palmer. I stayed where I was for five minutes in case they came back. Once I was satisfied they were gone, I got out of my car and walked to Don’s house. I wondered what I was going to find. I knocked loudly on his front door. No answer. I took a step back and bent down to look in the window. The feeling of dread was growing. I wasn’t sure what to do. The decision was made for me when he opened the door. He was genuinely surprised to see me.

‘I was washing the pots,’ he said, composing himself quickly. He turned away, but left the door open.

I followed him through to the kitchen. The house had been tidied. ‘Had guests have you?’

‘I had Sarah here earlier on.’

It was a half-truth at best, but I went with it. ‘She won’t let it go, you know? She’s worried about you.’

‘I’ve told her she’s got nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself.’

I smiled. ‘She’s her father’s daughter. It’s not in her make-up to let things go. Or mine. How’s Roger Millfield? Still working for him?’

He didn’t answer me, but I wasn’t too bothered. It wasn’t why I was here. I waited as he finished washing the two mugs in the sink. He put the dishcloth to one side. The bruising on his face was starting to fade, but he still wore the scars of the attack he’d suffered. He wasn’t going to mention George Sutherland to me, though. I nodded in the direction of his dining table. ‘Shall we sit down?’ I waited for him to join me. ‘Andrew Bancroft’ I said.

‘We’ve already been through this. You’ve already tried to get Sarah to do your dirty work for you. The name doesn’t mean anything to me.’

I stared out at Don’s back garden. He’d had the turf relaid so Lauren had somewhere to play. ‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘I’ve no reason to lie to you. I don’t recall the name.’

‘He went missing thirty years ago.’

‘Hardly breaking news.’

‘I spoke to his mother. It still means something to her.’

‘Only natural.’

‘I spoke to her other son, Gary. He’s a character.’

‘Plenty of them about, too.’

‘And his name doesn’t mean anything to you?’

Don shook his head. ‘Can’t say it does.’

‘Coleman gave me Andrew Bancroft’s name.’

‘Why would he do that?’

That was a very good question. Why had Coleman given me the name of a man who disappeared decades ago? I’d let him use me so far, but that was going to have to change. I needed something, too. ‘I know you looked into Andrew Bancroft’s disappearance.’

‘I looked into countless disappearances,’ he said. ‘Grown man decides to leave and start again? Doesn’t sound like a stand-out case to me.’

‘Really?’

‘I’ve seen things you can’t even begin to imagine.’

‘Gary Bancroft said you took it very personally.’

‘I took every case personally.’

I knew Don was right. He’d worked in CID for decades. Of course he’d seen things I couldn’t imagine. But that didn’t excuse the fact he was lying to me. He was still sharp and I had to respect that. I only had one shot at asking him why he was speaking to Sutherland and that needed to be done on my terms. Connor’s beating had increased the stakes. I could feel my two problems starting to converge. Whatever was going on between Don and George Sutherland was probably going to give me my chance to resolve all my problems. I told him this was his last chance to tell me the truth.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he eventually said.

I drove into the city centre, left my car on a meter and walked to Queens Gardens Police Station. I told the officer on the front desk I wanted to speak to Acting DI Coleman.

‘Geraghty, isn’t it?’

I nodded. I now knew more about Andrew Bancroft, but it was time for Coleman to tell me what he knew. The man didn’t make any move to pick up the telephone and call Coleman’s extension. I looked around as I waited. The same old tired posters on the walls, the same old tired faces waiting to be attended to. I was losing patience. The man was going through the motions of filing paperwork. ‘Are you going to ring him, then?’

He reluctantly picked up the telephone. When his call was answered, he asked to speak to Coleman. He listened to the response and put it back down. ‘He’s about to go into a meeting.’

‘It’s important.’

He smiled. ‘Lovers tiff, is it?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Bit matey with the Acting Detective Inspector, aren’t you?’

His distaste was obvious, but I wasn’t letting it go. ‘Call him back and tell him I’ve spoken to Gary Bancroft.’

‘He’s busy.’

‘Try again.’

He did so. ‘Still about to go into a meeting.’ He put the telephone back down. ‘Anything else I can help you with today?’

Sutherland’s pub was almost empty. There was no sign of the barmaid I’d spoken with previously. Maybe Sutherland was right and he was skint. He might benefit from the regeneration around the docks in due course, but I doubted the city’s politicians had this place in mind when talking about a new Hull. The closer I looked at it, the more I realised what a shit-hole it was. The décor was tatty, the furniture didn’t match and the carpet was stained.

I stood and waited. If I rattled Sutherland’s cage, word would get back to Don, I was sure. That might force him to talk to me.

Carl Palmer appeared. ‘What do you want?’

‘A word with your boss.’

‘Our boss?’

I smiled. ‘Never going to happen.’

‘Order a drink first.’

We were playing that game again. ‘Just get him for me.’

Palmer laughed and walked away from me. I waited it out.

Sutherland eventually appeared. ‘Got my money, Geraghty?’

‘No.’

He moved closer to me so the handful of drinkers couldn’t hear us. ‘So what the fuck are you doing here?’

‘I didn’t get chance to speak to you at Don’s earlier.’

Sutherland stared hard at me before smiling. ‘You best come through.’

I followed Sutherland through to his office and sat down opposite him. The CCTV images were filtering through to the television screens as before.

Sutherland spoke. ‘If you haven’t got my money, why the fuck aren’t you doing something about it?’

‘What were you talking to Don about?’

He relaxed in his chair. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’

I said nothing and waited for him to speak. He eventually repeated that it was none of my business.

‘How was he?’ I asked.

‘Don’t waste my time, Geraghty. I’m not in the mood.’

‘Odd that Don didn’t mention it to me.’

‘You’re his minder now, are you?’

‘I’ve got his best interests at heart.’

Sutherland smiled. I wanted to lean across the table and wipe it off his face. ‘I didn’t have him down as a mate of yours,’ I said.

He thumped his fist on the table. ‘You watch your fucking mouth. I can have you and your family hurt whenever I want to. Just you remember that.’

We stared at each other and he calmed down. ‘We go back. Nature of the place, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Can’t fart in Hull without someone else knowing about it. I always bump into people I know when I’m out and about.’

The telephone on his desk sounded. He answered without taking his eyes off me. He swore before saying he’d be down immediately. He stood up and left the room.

Once I was sure he wasn’t coming back, I took my opportunity. I moved across to Sutherland’s desk and flicked through the rack of DVDs. They all had names on the front cover. I glanced at the CCTV camera covering the bedroom. They were alphabetical. I flicked through. The names meant nothing to me until I reached Roger Millfield. I could hear Sutherland shouting as he walked back towards the office. I quickly stuffed the DVD into my coat pocket. Sutherland stared at me as he walked in. ‘You still fucking here, Geraghty?’

I held my hands up. ‘On my way.’ I headed for the door before stopping. I needed him to know. ‘My nephew is off limits, do we understand each other? I don’t care who you are, or how many people you’ve got on your side. You can do what you like to me, but if you pull another stunt like that, I will come for you without giving a fuck about the consequences.’

Sutherland laughed. ‘Get my money sorted, Geraghty, before I lose my patience with you.’ He stood up and faced me. ‘And keep your nose out of my business.’

I put the DVD on top of my television. I stayed standing and looked out to Westbourne Avenue. It was a normal day for the people walking past. I went into the kitchen and made myself a coffee. My mobile was silent. No word from Niall, Sarah or Connor. Nobody was talking to me. I put the drink down and picked up the DVD to stare at it again. The cover was plain. All that was written on it was the name, Roger Millfield. I took the disc out. His name had been scribbled on it, but this time there was also a date. It had been filmed six months ago. I put the disc into my DVD player. The picture sprung into life. The bedroom which appeared on my screen was the one I’d been staring at on the camera in Sutherland’s office. A young girl walked into shot. She was in her late teens or early twenties. She busied herself, plumping up the pillows before touching up her hair and make-up. I wondered if she was aware she was being filmed. I fast-forwarded the footage. I pressed play when a man walked into shot. It was definitely Roger Millfield. I pressed fast-forward again and watched as the girl undressed. I let it play again and listened as he referred to her as Tiffany. I’d seen enough. I switched it off, sat back and closed my eyes. I needed to get out of my flat.

I knocked on the door and took a step back. The living room curtain twitched. I turned to face it so Bancroft’s mother could get a proper look at me. She eventually opened the door and let me in. I followed her through into the house. I had to continue giving things a shake.

‘I was hoping you’d come back,’ she said.

I told her I’d spoken with Gary earlier in the day. ‘I owe you an apology. When I spoke to you earlier, I didn’t know about Andrew.’ Her hand was shaking slightly. I felt terrible for stirring up bad memories, but I had to know about her relationship with Don.

She nodded. ‘It wasn’t what Andrew was like. People like Andrew don’t just disappear.’

I’d been thinking about it. Sometimes people did disappear into thin air. In Hull, it wasn’t unheard of for people to simply fall into the water. Sometimes their bodies were found, sometimes only the nagging doubt that maybe something else had happened remained.

‘I know my lads aren’t perfect,’ she said. ‘I certainly know that, but my Andrew was the better of the two. He was a good lad, really.’ She took a tissue out from the sleeve of her cardigan and blew her nose. ‘I could never control them, though,’ she said. ‘How was a woman like me supposed to control two boys? Men, really? They wouldn’t listen to me.’

‘How about their dad?’ I asked.

‘Waste of time from start to finish.’

‘Working on the trawlers?’

She laughed. Given that we were sitting close to Hessle Road, it had felt like a reasonable guess.

‘Howard wasn’t exactly what you’d call a hard worker. He was more a hard drinker. The trawlers were certainly too much for him. He went out once, but that was it for him. He reckoned he suffered from severe seasickness and couldn’t do the job. He called himself a painter and decorator, but he always more interested in painting the town red.’

I smiled. It was obviously a rehearsed line she gave everyone.

She glanced at a photograph of Andrew. It had been taken on holiday, outside a caravan. ‘He wasn’t a bad lad. It was his brother leading him astray. Andrew loved his rugby. He was always playing or watching at The Boulevard. I thought that was going to be enough to keep him out of trouble. Sport’s usually good for young men.’