The Crooked Beat (21 page)

Branning nodded and stared out of the window. He eventually nodded, the decision made. ‘I suppose what you’ve got to appreciate is that those times were different. It wasn’t unusual for the occasional beating to be handed out back then if you needed to exert some authority. That’s the way it was, and let’s say Reg Holborn wasn’t afraid to do that, even if he did go too far sometimes.’

‘In what way?’

‘He had a gang and they would go well over the top. He walked a fine line at the best of times.’

‘He was pals with Frank Salford through the boxing? I’ve seen the photographs.’

Branning nodded, impressed with my work. ‘Holborn was into his boxing. Probably not surprising, given the nature of the man. He was a patron for some of the young lads’ clubs, always going around the station with raffle tickets and a begging bowl.’

‘Bit naïve to be hanging about with Salford, though, even if they supported the same causes?’

‘It wasn’t exactly encouraged, but if he could keep tabs on what Salford was doing, then it was considered useful.’

‘Keep him in check?’

‘In theory.’

‘In theory?’

‘I don’t need to spell it out, surely? You’re better than that.’

‘I’d rather you did spell it out for me.’

‘I can’t offer you any proof, which makes it worthless.’

Branning didn’t say anything further, so I attempted to press him. ‘But you think he was corrupt?’

‘There were half-hearted attempts to investigate him, but it was all off the record. Nothing came of it.’

‘What about George Sutherland?’

Branning made sure he had my attention before speaking. ‘He was there every step of the way. Whatever Salford was doing, Sutherland was involved. I suppose they both knew too much about each other, even when Dave Johnson came up through the ranks.’

I found myself nodding my agreement. It made sense. Whatever Johnson was offering had to put Sutherland in the frame. And keep himself out of it.

‘What can you tell me about Andrew Bancroft?’ I asked him.

He repeated what Alan Palmer had told me. Bancroft had been one of Salford’s musclemen, employed to enforce, collect money, and hand out beatings. Dispensable muscle. ‘What went wrong?’

‘Bancroft started dipping on the cash take, so the story went. He got too big for his own boots and I assume the temptation was too much. There was always plenty of cash sloshing about.’

I was running the scenario through my mind. ‘I assume Salford wasn’t keen on this going on?’

‘You assume correct. It was the one thing he wouldn’t tolerate. Punishment beatings were frequent in those days. I remember hearing tales of decent folk, pub landlords and shopkeepers being beaten because they wouldn’t pay him protection money.’

I was getting the picture. ‘What do you think happened to Bancroft?’ I asked him.

‘I wouldn’t want to guess. It’s not how I was taught to think.’

‘I think he was murdered by Salford,’ I found myself saying. ‘A punishment beating which went too far.’

Branning didn’t disagree with me.

I sat in my car, rolled the window down and took several deep breaths of air. I needed to get the smell of the care home out of my nose. I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. I had to proceed on the assumption that Andrew Bancroft had been murdered by Frank Salford. I opened my eyes. It was no time to lose focus. The clock was ticking in respect of George Sutherland. I needed to know about his role in all of this. I was sure it was going to be the leverage I needed.

I took the jiffy bag Johnson’s wife had given me out of the glove compartment and stared at it. I had a pair of latex gloves in the car. I’d laughed when Sarah had bought them for me, but yet again, she was right. I couldn’t resist looking. I carefully tipped Bancroft’s wallet into my hands. I held it up to the light and stared. The wallet was made from black leather, but it had faded over time. Someone, presumably Andrew Bancroft, had scratched in the words Hull FC with a pen-knife. It was an identifying feature. I placed the wallet back in the jiffy bag and took the gloves off. I found my mobile and called Gary Bancroft’s number. I said I had something I needed him to take a look at.

Bancroft was ready and waiting for me outside of a pub on Hessle Road. He was back drinking on his home turf. It had no doubt once been a central hub in the fishing community, but like many similar places, the smoking ban was slowly killing it.

I opened the passenger door for Bancroft. ‘Get in,’ I said.

‘Couldn’t this have waited?’

I pulled out into the traffic. ‘Not really.’

‘Couldn’t my mum have sorted it for you?’

‘Only if you’re a right heartless bastard.’

We sat in silence as I drove us towards Witty Street. It ran parallel to Hessle Road, but was much quieter, the home to light engineering companies and sundry warehouses. I pulled into an unused car park and put the latex gloves back on. I told Bancroft not to look so worried. ‘What do you think I’m going to do?’

He didn’t answer. I shook the wallet out of the jiffy bag and showed it to him. ‘Recognise this?’ The look of surprise on his face was genuine. ‘Your brother’s?’

‘Could be.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a fucking wallet.’

‘Take another look,’ I said. ‘Andrew scratched the name of his favourite rugby team into the leather.’

Bancroft reluctantly did as he was told. ‘Doesn’t prove anything.’

‘You reckon?’ I wasn’t so certain, either, not until the contents of the wallet had been examined. But Bancroft was on the back foot, so I wasn’t going to say any different. ‘I think your brother was murdered.’

He went to open the door. I stopped him.

‘I don’t have to listen to this shit,’ he said.

‘Why did you speak to Alan Palmer the other day, then? Why did you try and put the frighteners on him?’

He pushed me away, got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him. His reaction had told me all I needed to know.

I needed some time to think about the Bancroft brothers and what my next move should be. I still had the DVD I’d taken from Sutherland’s pub in my possession. It was time to use it. I called Roger Millfield’s office and once I’d given my name, I was told he was in a meeting. I wasn’t in the mood to be put off.

‘Could you pass an urgent message on, please,’ I said to his PA. ‘I have a DVD I think might belong to him, or maybe a mutual client, George Sutherland. If he’s too busy to deal with it, ask him if I should give it straight to Tiffany?’

‘I don’t follow, I’m afraid,’ the receptionist said.

‘If you just go and tell Mr Millfield. He’ll want to hear this. I’ll hold the line.’

I watched as Gary Bancroft walked away. I still couldn’t weigh up his attitude. Millfield’s receptionist came back to me a few minutes later. ‘Mr Millfield said he’ll be leaving shortly for a meeting. He apologises, but could you possibly meet him at the Humber Bridge car park? It’s on the way to his next meeting.’

‘That’s absolutely fine.’

I parked up and waited. A lone dog walker passed by. I looked at the Bridge standing tall to the side of me. The last time I’d been here, I’d seen off an unpleasant criminal gang from London, even though I’d needed Don’s help and contacts to make it happen. This time I was on my own. I watched as a BMW pulled in and headed over to me. It cut across the parking spaces and came to a stop next to me. The window lowered. Millfield stared out at me.

I pointed to the cafe. ‘Drink?’

He shook his head and opened the passenger door. ‘Jump in.’

I did as I was told and closed the cold air out. Millfield appeared to be ill to me, like he wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t surprised. He turned the engine off and stared out of the windscreen. ‘You said you had a DVD for me.’

‘Want to tell me about it?’

Millfield said nothing for a moment. We both stared out at the Bridge. The more I thought about, the more impressed I was. I was constantly surprising myself with how little I knew about things. As a child, whenever I asked my dad a question, he knew the answer, and he never paused to think about it. He always knew.

‘Why are doing this, Joe?’ Millfield said. ‘I informed you that the job was over.’

I told him what George Sutherland had done to Connor. ‘It’s not over for me.’ I passed him the DVD.

He took it from me and placed it in his jacket pocket. He sighed. ‘I was stupid and drunk. And she was there. That’s all there was to it. A moment of weakness.’

I considered what Neil Farr had told me about his close friendship with Kath Millfield. It probably didn’t leave much room for Roger Millfield in his own marriage. I took a chance. I’d been thinking about why a respectable businessman would be working with a criminal like George Sutherland. ‘Are you money laundering for him?’ I said.

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Tell me, then.’

Millfield drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I shouldn’t have dragged you into my problems, Joe, and you’d do well to not push me on this. Don’s taking care of this for me, as you well know. Keep yourself out of it.’

I took another chance and told him why I needed a line into Sutherland. I gave him the basic outline about the cigarettes. He looked shocked. ‘I’m trying to help my family,’ I said.

‘You don’t know what you’re getting into. My best advice to you is that you persuade your brother to go to the police. They’ll investigate and arrest Sutherland.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’ It wasn’t an option. Niall was every bit as guilty as George Sutherland.

‘I don’t think I can help you any further, given the circumstances.’

‘Whatever you’ve got to be so scared of, it’s in your interests to tell me.’ I shuffled around in my seat to face him and leaned in closer. ‘We’re on the same side here. I think we both want the same thing. I’ve told you the truth. I can’t stop until I’ve brought Sutherland down.’

Millfield was uncomfortable. His voice was practically a whisper. ‘You can’t win against a man like him.’

‘I haven’t got a choice.’

‘Take my advice. Leave me alone and call the police before things get any worse for you.’

‘Can’t do that.’

‘You’ve no idea, have you, Joe?’

‘Tell me, then.’

‘Sutherland’s blackmailing Don.’ He made sure he had my full attention before he spoke again. ‘Rebecca isn’t my daughter. She’s Don’s.’

I sat in my car, trying to process what Millfield had told me. Don had a secret child. I needed time to think about it rationally before speaking to him. I needed to think about what I was going to say. There was also Sarah to think about. I had no idea what to do. I settled for calling Peter Hill. He needed to know about George Sutherland’s plan. ‘We need to talk,’ I said to him.

‘It’s not a good time.’

‘It’s in your best interests.’

‘My wife’s at work and I’m trying to control the children.’

I cut him off. ‘It’s not a social call.’ I said I’d go to him and put my mobile back into my pocket.

Hill was waiting for me at his front door. He’d received the same treatment as Niall. The bruises were starting to fade, but the damage was clearly visible. Hill told me to be quiet as I followed him into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got the kids playing upstairs in their bedrooms. I don’t want them knowing you’re here.’

I pointed to his face. ‘Want to tell me what happened?’

‘I’m sure I don’t need to.’

I looked at the large canvas print of his children on the wall and felt bad for bringing bad things into his house. It was the opposite of Gillespie’s place. The clutter and mess signalled a busy family life, not a man who’d given up. Hill offered me a drink, but I waved his offer away.

‘I’ve got something stronger if you prefer?’ he said.

‘Too early for me.’

I waited while he poured himself a drink. ‘How’s Niall doing?’

‘He wants this sorting out.’ I didn’t need to look too hard at his face to see he was worried, too. I sat down at the table. ‘I have to go across to Zeebrugge tomorrow night and bring some cigarettes back.’

Hill didn’t say anything. He made himself a cup of tea and sat down opposite me. ‘That’s not a good idea.’

‘You’re telling me.’

‘You’ve got to put a stop to it. I assume you know what will happen to you if you’re caught?’

I said that I did. ‘Someone called George Sutherland owned the cigarettes. I thought he was a small-time criminal and that I could handle him.’ I paused for a moment. ‘He’s threatened people I care about.’ I tapped the table with my right hand. ‘I need to know how to make it work.’

Hill opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

‘How do I make sure no one stops me bringing the cigarettes into the country?’ I asked him.

‘You can’t.’

‘Sutherland did.’

Hill shrugged. ‘Different situation altogether. It’s not that simple.’

‘It is from where I’m sitting.’

Hill shook his head. ‘Even if it could be done, it’s not something you decide to do overnight.'

I told him I needed his help.

Hill walked over to the sink. He ran the cold water tap and splashed his face before turning back to me. ‘I can’t take any more of this.’

I thought about telling him that he needed to keep a cool head for his family’s sake, but it wouldn’t help the situation. We both had our concerns, but we were also very different. He was scared, but I was determined. It scared me, too, but this was what I was good at. ‘We’ve got one thing in common’ I said.

‘What’s that?’

‘We both want George Sutherland out of the picture.’ Hill looked at me, his face full of hope. I had to burst his bubble. I wasn’t a miracle worker. ‘I need your help to do it.’ Hill sat back down and said nothing. I outlined what was going to happen. ‘You need to do what’s best for your family. Get them out of this house to somewhere safe, send them on a holiday if you have to. Tell your neighbours you’re going on holiday and then go and stay at a mate’s house. Keep your head down.’

‘How on earth can I tell my wife that? I’ve got no money to send her away with.’

‘Sutherland will be coming for you soon,’ I said. He started to panic. I told him to get a grip of himself. ‘You’ve got to sort the situation out.’