The Crooked Beat (19 page)

I had time to make one last attempt to sort things out before the meeting with Johnson. I walked into the city centre, hoping the fresh air would help me think and prepare for what was to come. It didn’t. My car was where I’d left it. I drove to the park. If you didn’t look down at the dog shit and broken glass on the path, it was a pleasant enough place. A row of unused football pitches stood next to what was once an outdoor five-a-side court. Now it was covered in graffiti. The cafe was closed, seemingly abandoned.

I walked around the immaculately tended square of grass where Don was bowling with three of his friends. They were all dressed in regulation white. He was crouched down, feeling the weight of the bowl in his hand, working out the force he needed to put behind the delivery. He released it and followed its flight down the green. I stood close to the jack and waited for Don to straighten up. When he did, it was obvious I wasn’t a welcome guest.

‘I need a word,’ I said.

He knew I wasn’t going away. He nodded to the benches which lined the duck pond. ‘Give me a couple of minutes.’

I walked over and made myself comfortable. A small girl was with her grandmother, feeding the ducks. She screeched with delight as the birds circled, waiting for her to throw the bread to them. For a moment, I forgot about my problems.

Don sat down next to me and crashed me back into the present.

‘Sarah’s not happy,’ I said. ‘She wants to know what’s going on. You should tell her.’

‘I’ve already told you. I’m not going to do that and nor am I going to help you with your wild goose chase about Andrew Bancroft.’

‘Things have changed.’

‘I doubt it, Joe.’

‘Bancroft’s mother said you spoke to Alan Palmer.’

‘It was a long time ago. I’ve really got no idea.’

‘Sure about that?’

‘Perfectly sure.’

I sighed. It was like talking to myself. ‘This really is your last chance to tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘Whatever you know about Andrew Bancroft.’

‘We’ve been through this.’

‘Are you being blackmailed?’

Don laughed and shook his head. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

I told him about the DVD I’d found in Sutherland’s office. ‘Will I find any more surprises in that pile?’

‘Chance would be a fine thing these days. Get a grip of yourself.’

I continued anyway. ‘Is that why Millfield wanted your help?’

‘Maybe he’s just stupid and doesn’t know when he has a good thing? Have you considered that?’

I had no answer to his suggestion.

‘Whatever it is, you leave him be,’ Don said.

We sat in silence and watched as the young girl was led away from the duck pond. ‘I’m desperate,’ I said.

‘Aren’t we all?’

‘Sutherland has come up with a plan for me to repay Niall’s debt.’ I didn’t tell him what it entailed. All I told him was that I didn’t want to go through with the plan. ‘I’m scared.’ It was a truth I wouldn’t have said to many people. But Don had been my mentor, the one person who’d taken a chance on me when I’d needed it. I hoped he’d understand.

‘I don’t want to hear it, Joe.’

‘What are you scared of?’

‘I’m an old man I’m not scared of anything.’

I had nothing more to say to him. His police background made him more than a match for me. I told him I was going to speak to Dave Johnson.

He was unable to keep the look of surprise off his face. ‘Johnson?’

I nodded. ‘Coleman’s taking me to see him.’

‘After what he did?’

I didn’t need Don to say it. I knew no good would come out of the situation for me. I was focusing on the fact it might help Niall. ‘He knows something about Andrew Bancroft’s disappearance. He’s already mentioned George Sutherland.’

‘You can’t trust scum like Johnson to tell you the truth.’

‘I know.’ I’d thought it over the previous night. I would have to control my emotions when I spoke to Johnson. I couldn’t let my hatred of the man overpower me, or only hear what I wanted to.

‘And you can’t trust Coleman, either. He’s only in it for himself.’

That much was true, too. I couldn’t disagree with him on that point, but I had to throw my lot in with someone.

Don slowly straightened himself up. ‘Rather than you coming here to tell me it’s my last chance, you should think of this as being your last chance to drop it all.’ I remained sitting. He looked down on me. ‘Go to the police and tell them what your brother’s done. You’re not stupid. You can work a deal out with them and drop all this nonsense.’

I stood up and faced him. ‘Don’t you think I would if I could? Do you think I’m enjoying doing this?’

Don looked at me, like he was weighing my last question up.

I had one last roll of the dice. ‘I saw Sutherland at your house.’ I took a breath and told him about Connor’s role with the cigarettes. And how Sutherland had beaten him for it.

Don’s poker face held. He eventually shook his head and started walking back to his bowls match.

I reached for my mobile and called Gary Bancroft. It was tight, but I had time before speaking to Dave Johnson. I’d stored his number when he’d made contact with me. I glanced across to Don before leaving. He’d edged away from his friends and was staring back at me. I held his stare and I waited for Bancroft to answer. When he did, I turned away from Don. ‘I need another word,’ I said.

‘I’m on my way to the office.’ I was confused. Bancroft laughed when I didn’t say anything. ‘I’m signing on.’

‘Where?’

‘I’m in town. Meet me at Admiral of the Humber. You know it?’

I said I did. It was a Wetherspoon's pub on the corner of Carr Lane, next to the bingo hall.

‘I want an all-day breakfast, too.’

I found Bancroft sitting in a booth by himself. He didn’t have a drink. As I approached, he told me he wanted a pint of lager. He shouted a reminder about the food as I headed for the bar. I didn’t want either. I hadn’t eaten today, but there was no chance of doing so before I’d spoken with Dave Johnson.

I sat back down at the table and passed him the laminated card with an order number on it. ‘It won’t be long.’

He put the card down and shrugged before picking up the pint of lager I’d bought him.

‘I had another chat with your mum,’ I said.

He eyed me suspiciously and put his pint down. ‘You don’t want to pay too much attention to what she says.’

‘She said Alan Palmer gave her some money when your brother disappeared.’

That got his attention. He played for time and took another mouthful of lager. I didn’t take my eyes off him.

‘I don’t remember,’ he eventually said. ‘I wasn’t around much then.’

‘Your mum was pretty sure Alan Palmer worked for Frank Salford.’

Bancroft shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘That’s definitely what happened.’

‘So what?’

I was pleased to be getting under his skin with my questions. The waitress brought his all-day breakfast over. He took his time applying ketchup. He was stalling me again. I could read him like a book. I waited until he picked up a slice of toast. ‘Why did he give her the money?’

Bancroft put his toast down. ‘Maybe he wanted to help out?’

‘Seems unlikely to me.’

He shrugged and took another mouthful of his pint. ‘She never looked a gift-horse in the mouth.’

‘What did your brother do for Salford?’

He picked his toast back up. ‘Never really spoke about it. Bit of this, bit of that. Probably did what he was told to do.’

‘Just following orders?’

He took a bite and nodded. ‘I reckon so.’

I leaned in across the table. ‘Try a bit harder.’ I took the toast out of his hand. ‘We’re talking about your brother.’

Bancroft snatched the toast back. I’d rattled him. He was a man with a short fuse. He took a breath and composed himself before emptying his pint glass. He smiled. ‘I’ll take another one of them.’

I went to the bar and watched as he continued to eat his food. He was doing his best to keep a lid on his temper, but I was needling him. I returned to the table and changed my line of attack. ‘If your brother went away, why didn’t he take his toothbrush?’

He sneered at me. ‘You shouldn’t listen to everything my mam says. It’s easy enough to buy another.’

‘Did Palmer say that your brother had gone away?’ I sat back. ‘I bet he did and you took the money without asking any questions.’

Bancroft jabbed his fork at me. ‘You know nothing, so I suggest you watch your mouth.’

I checked the time. ‘I’m talking to Dave Johnson soon. You’ll remember him? He was Frank Salford’s number two. He’s going to have stories to tell.’

Bancroft picked up his pint and drank it off in one. He didn’t take his eyes off me. He stood up.

‘Aren’t you going to finish your food?’ I said.

He shook his head and pushed his chair back in. ‘My brother disappeared and he isn’t coming back. That’s all you need to know.’

I sent Coleman a text message to say I’d be at my brother’s bar when he was ready for me. Niall was working on his laptop when I walked in. He didn’t acknowledge me. I coughed to get his attention. He relented and looked up. ‘You can be angry if you want, but we need to talk,’ I said.

Niall stopped what he was doing. ‘I’ve got nothing to say.’

He’d said some unpleasant things to me, too, but I’d put them to one side and carried on anyway. I told him I had news on the cigarettes. I took the printout from my pocket and held it out to him.

He took it from me and read through the information before holding it back out to me. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘We sail on tomorrow night’s Zeebrugge ferry. George Sutherland wants to go over with a van to make a collection.’ Niall stared at me. I could tell he was scared. ‘I don’t want to go, either,’ I said. ‘It’s a bad idea.’ I was about to say something more when Coleman appeared.

He said the place was looking good before walking over to study the display of my dad’s rugby memorabilia.

Niall spoke. ‘How’s Connor?’

‘He’s fine,’ I said.

‘His mum was asking.’

‘Right.’

Coleman walked back over to us. ‘I didn’t realise,’ he said. ‘Quite a player.’

‘Can’t argue with that,’ I said.

‘Fancy a drink before we go?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m ready.’

Niall asked where we were going.

‘You don’t want to know.’

Coleman pulled up in the prison car park. I took a deep breath and stepped out. I looked up at the imposing Victorian building. It was grim and unwelcoming. No doubt that was the point.

‘Ever been inside?’ Coleman asked me.

I said I hadn’t.

He nodded to the Visitors' Entrance. It was a discreet door next to where the prison vans drove in an out. ‘Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’

We passed slowly through the security checks with Coleman nodding greetings as we moved forward. We were led through a series of corridors, well away from the actual prisoners. The more we walked, the more I was aware of the feeling of being caged in. The prison was playing tricks with my mind. We came to a stop outside a featureless room. The prison officer opened the door and said Johnson would be along shortly. Inside there was a table and three chairs. Nothing else. Not even a window. Coleman rearranged the chairs. Johnson would be sitting on one side of the table, Coleman and myself on the other.

I stayed standing, leaning against the wall. The room was stuffy and uncomfortable. All I could think about was Debbie and how she’d died in the house fire, how she must have suffered. And how it was all Johnson’s fault.

I put the thought to one side when I heard a knock on the door. Coleman looked at me. I nodded. I was ready. Coleman walked across the room and opened the door. Johnson’s escort brought him into the room before leaving and closing the door behind him. Johnson smiled, never taking his eyes off me. He was pushing sixty years of age, but he was in good shape. He read my mind.

‘Been working out,’ he said. ‘Got to keep yourself active, haven’t you?’ He sat down and waited for me and Coleman to follow suit. His eyes never left mine. ‘Got a new bird yet, Geraghty?’

I flew across the table at him and landed a glancing blow to his face before Coleman was able to restrain me. Johnson laughed. I struggled free, kicked my chair back and paced the room, trying to compose myself.

‘Sit down, Joe,’ Coleman said to me.

Johnson laughed and pointed at me. ‘You can have that one for free, now do as your boyfriend says and sit the fuck down.’

Coleman spoke. ‘Watch your mouth, Johnson.’

Johnson held his hands up and offered an insincere apology to me. ‘I shouldn’t be so rude to my ticket out of this place.’

I sat back down and told him I was nothing of the sort.

‘Not how I see it.’

Coleman stepped in. ‘Joe’s agreed to look into your claims.’

Johnson stared at me but continued to speak to Coleman. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘Because it suits me to,’ I said.

He answered me. ‘What’s in it for you?’

I stared at him and decided it had to be the truth. ‘I’ve got a problem with George Sutherland,’ I said. I was appealing to his ego, knowing he didn’t like Sutherland, either. There was history between them. Johnson had taken over as Salford’s right-hand man after the falling out with Sutherland. I’d been told he hadn’t enjoyed the same rewards, though.

‘Bitten off more than you can chew, have you?’ Johnson said. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me. It seems to be a speciality of yours.’

‘How is prison?’ I asked him. ‘Shit, I hope.’

‘I’ve got a bed and a television.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t get any trouble. What’s not to like?’

It was my turn to smile. Nobody wanted to be in here, whatever the perks.

‘Andrew Bancroft,’ Coleman said, bringing things round to business.

‘What’s on the table?’ Johnson asked.

I was pleased he was so desperate to know. It meant he was sick of being in this place, regardless of what he’d just told me.

‘There’s nothing on the table yet,’ Coleman said.

Johnson weighed things up. I knew he was sharp. He might have been Frank Salford’s muscle, but you still needed a bit of nous to survive in the criminal world. I noticed Coleman wasn’t recording our conversation or taking notes. Johnson would also have noticed that this wasn’t official yet.