The Crooked Beat (26 page)

Coleman lit a cigarette. ‘I was waiting for you before I started another one.’

I smiled. ‘You’ll have a habit if you’re not careful.’

‘Least of my problems.’ I watched him take another long drag on his cigarette. ‘I’ve been talking to Johnson.’ He jabbed it out in front of him at the field. ‘Andrew Bancroft’s out there somewhere.’

‘I know.’

Coleman blew smoke in my face. ‘You know?’

I qualified my comment. ‘Not specifically, but I’ve spoken with someone. Buried alive, they said.’

Coleman winced. ‘Poor bastard.’ We stood in silence with our thoughts until he finished his cigarette and threw it to the floor. ‘Johnson was suitably vague about what he knew. He can’t pin-point it exactly, but he’s out there somewhere between Paull and Thorngumbald. We know there was an outhouse of some sort. I’m sure someone cleverer than me can figure it out. Obviously Johnson wasn’t there on the night in question. He’s sticking to his alibi on that one.’

I looked out to the fields and thought about it. ‘Five miles or so between the two villages?’

‘Something like that.’

It wouldn’t be too hard to find the right area. If there had once been a building, the details would have to be recorded somewhere. That said, I didn’t envy the police the task of trying to find the body. ‘What happens next?’

‘It’ll become official.’

I knew there was something I had to do before that happened. ‘I need to speak to his mother.’

‘You want to deliver the death message?’

‘I made a promise.’

‘You best do it straight away, then.’

I told him I would.

‘And she best look surprised when I come knocking on her door.’

‘I don’t think it will be a surprise to her at all.’

Coleman shook his head. ‘Probably not.’

I felt like asking him for a cigarette. The news about Andrew Bancroft’s body wasn’t surprising, but it still shocked me. ‘Did you tell Johnson about Roger Millfield?’ Coleman said he had. Millfield had been his best card to play. Millfield would have to back up his story and cut a deal of his own with the police. He obviously wouldn’t be doing that. That only left Alan Palmer who knew the truth. Who would take the word of a man with a criminal record and a drink problem? Letting the police know about the body was Johnson’s last move. I found myself pacing around in a small circle. I asked Coleman about Holborn’s death.

‘Nothing to report.’

I stopped pacing. ‘Nothing?’

Coleman pushed himself off the bonnet of his car and told me to calm myself down. ‘Give me something, Joe, and I’ll make a noise with it.’

I had nothing. Holborn’s neighbour wasn’t able to say anything more than he’d seen Palmer hanging around the area. ‘It was George Sutherland’s handiwork.’

‘Can you prove it?’

‘No.’

Coleman took out his packet of cigarettes and toyed with it in his hands before putting it away again. ‘I was hoping you would give me better news than that.’

‘You need something else to pin on Sutherland so you’ve got the time to work on tying him up to Bancroft and Holborn?’

Coleman nodded. ‘There’s no chance of making what we’ve got stick.’

‘How about cigarette smuggling?’

He shrugged. ‘If he was caught red-handed.’

I told Coleman what I was doing. He looked at me like I was mad. ‘You’re prepared to sacrifice yourself for your brother and nephew like that?’

‘They’re all I’ve got.’

‘You understand what telling me this means, don’t you?’

I held his stare. ‘You might want to talk to a guy called Peter Hill.’

Coleman took out his cigarettes again and lit one this time. He shook his head and turned away from me.

I headed for Bancroft’s mother's house. As Coleman had said, no one wants to deliver a death message, but I’d made a promise. I was going to see it through. I pulled up outside and took a deep breath before knocking on her front door. When she opened it, she had a coat on, ready to go out. I told her I needed a word and followed her back into the house.

‘Gary’s been attacked,’ she said. ‘He’s in hospital.’

I wasn’t surprised by the news. I asked when it had happened.

‘Last night. They’ve only just got a telephone number out of him.’

‘What did the police say?’

‘Not much. Only that Gary had been attacked outside of his house and found by a neighbour.’ I made sympathetic noises. I was genuinely upset for her. Gary Bancroft was harder to feel sorry for. George Sutherland had caught up with him. Or more likely Carl Palmer. It had to be. They’d obviously found out that he’d been speaking to Alan Palmer. Her face gave nothing away. It was another incident in a long line of them for her.

‘I know Andrew’s dead.’ She held my stare. ‘I’m not stupid. All these years have taught me there’s no point pretending otherwise.’

I told her to sit down and asked if I could get her anything.

She shook her head and continued. ‘It’s the fact you can’t say goodbye which gets to you. The uncertainty of not knowing. Of not being able to hold a funeral and draw a line under it. That’s what eats away at you. There’s always a chance, that possibility of hope, but trying not to let yourself feel it.’

I sat down opposite her. Whatever had happened with my dad, whatever the truth of it, I knew I had to be grateful for not being in this woman’s shoes.

‘I’ve been told I should move on, but how can I? I’ve got Gary, but you’ve seen him. He’s no son to me.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Have you got family?’

‘A brother.’

‘Do you get on?’

‘Most of the time.’

‘You should make it all of the time, then.’

I smiled. She wasn’t wrong. ‘Live with the living,’ I said.

‘Exactly.’ She shuffled forward in her chair and told me to say whatever it was I’d come to say.

I left Bancroft’s mother sitting in her chair. I knew she wanted to cry, but that she didn’t want to do it in front of me. There was nothing more I could do for her. The police would contact her soon enough, and I assumed, start the search for the body of her son. I thought about what I’d said to her. You had to live with the living. Maybe that made some sense if you knew what had happened to the dead. I looked at her house one last time before driving away. I had a visit to make which I couldn’t avoid any longer.

I stepped back when Don opened his door to me. He wasn’t pleased to see me. He was dressed in his whites, ready to go to his bowls club. ‘Your game will have to wait,’ I said, pushing past him. We went through to his living room and sat down. He stared at me, saying nothing. My mouth went dry and I shuffled in my seat. The silence between us was uncomfortable.

‘I assume you know about Roger Millfield?’ I said as an opener.

He nodded. ‘What happened?’

‘He was found this morning in his office,’ I said, making sure he was looking at me. I wanted to see his reaction. Don was visibly shaken by the news his friend had taken his own life. I didn’t spare him the details. He walked across to his drinks cabinet.

‘Bit early for that,’ I said.

Don poured himself a drink regardless. He lifted his glass. ‘To Roger.’ He swallowed it and put his glass down. ‘I assume you’ve got questions?’

I had plenty. ‘You knew George Sutherland was blackmailing him? It was nothing to do with his wife having an affair.’

Don nodded. ‘He wouldn’t tell me why. I didn’t want to know the details.’

‘You knew though, didn’t you? He was coming for him because he knew the truth about Rebecca.’

‘I suppose I wanted a shot at George Sutherland, too. I knew what had happened to Andrew Bancroft, but I couldn’t do a single thing about it. That’s the kind of thing that stays with you, like a wound that refuses to scab over.’

Fine words, but they felt empty to me. ‘Why didn’t you do something about it? There must have been someone you could have spoken with?’

‘I was dealing with powerful people. They were far more powerful than me. They would have squashed me.’

‘You turned a blind eye?’ I could feel the anger rising in me. ‘You made a habit of that during your career, did you?’

Don stared at me. The look on his face said he wished he was twenty years younger so he could take me outside. The mood I was in, I would have accepted. I wanted nothing more than to hit him, but if I hit him once, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

‘I didn’t turn a blind eye,’ he said. ‘I did what I could.’

‘Are you sure you did all you could, Don?’

‘Going to hit an old man, are you?’

My hands had bunched into fists. I took a deep breath and told myself to get a grip. What was I doing? I paced the room.

Don held out the bottle to me. ‘You could use a drink.’

I shook my head. ‘I thought we were friends?’ It sounded pathetic as it left my mouth. I should I have said I thought we were family, that he was the one man I truly admired and looked up to. He was the man I thought had more integrity than any other I knew. He’d been a second father to me, which was ironic given the situation.

‘Things change, Joe.’ He poured himself a drink and sat down. ‘People change.’

‘I thought you were better than this.’

‘I try to be.’

‘You never mentioned you’d been in my dad’s pub with Holborn.’

We stared at each in silence. It was out there now. The room felt much smaller and hotter. He was definitely shaken.

‘You weren’t meant to find out about that,’ he eventually said.

I waved the comment away. ‘What happened, Don? What the fuck happened?’

‘I wasn’t involved.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘I wasn’t involved,’ he repeated.

‘You turned a blind eye.’ I jabbed a finger at him. ‘Again.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Sutherland.’

‘You should have asked him for the full story.’

‘Why don’t you tell me it, then?’

Don sighed. ‘Are you going to believe what I tell you?’ I had no answer to that, so he continued. ‘Reg Holborn took me to your dad’s pub. I assume you know exactly what Holborn was?’ I said I did. ‘He was there to give your dad a warning. He owed protection money to Salford, but he’d refused to pay. Holborn was as corrupt as they come. He was on a percentage, so he went along to make sure your dad got the message the police wouldn’t help him.’

I cut him off. ‘But why were you there, Don? What possible reason did you have for being there?’

‘Because Holborn had a little gang. You were either with him or against him. He wanted to see which side of the line I stood on.’

‘And which side were you on, Don?’

It was Don’s turn to point. He thrust a finger at me and told me to watch my step. ‘I did my job properly. I wanted nothing to do with Holborn and his people.’

‘So why didn’t you report what you’d seen?’

‘People like Holborn were too powerful around the station.’

I laughed. ‘That’s it? You threw in the towel, even though he was corrupt? What about people like my dad?’ I found myself shouting. ‘To all intents and purposes, the kicking he took killed him.’

‘I’m ashamed, Joe. I was ashamed then and I’m ashamed now. That’s the truth of the situation. I made an enemy of Holborn. I thought if I found out the truth about Andrew Bancroft, I could take him down, and that would go some way to making up for things. I did what I thought was best.’

‘You did what you thought was best? It doesn’t even touch the sides, Don.’ There was nothing else to say. I stared at the man I’d once been close to. That was gone now. I headed for the door before stopping. ‘What are you going to tell Sarah about Rebecca? She has a sister she doesn’t know about.’

‘I’ve told her,’ he said, before turning away from me.

I returned to my car, trying to regulate my breathing. I had no idea what I’d expected Don to say, but the truth was that he hadn’t done anything to help my dad. He’d stood there and watched as others had put the boot in. He’d said he’d done what he thought was best. I’d done exactly the same and seen it end badly as well. Did that make me as bad as him? I hadn’t told Sarah what I knew and she would know exactly what that made me. I looked down. My hands were wet with tears.

I wiped the tears away on my sleeve and set off for the ferry terminal. I pulled up once I was clear of Don’s street. I couldn’t board the ferry without speaking to Sarah first. I called her number but it went straight to voicemail. By the time I’d reached the first set of traffic lights, she’d called back to say she would be in a cafe bar on Newland Avenue for the next hour. I was running late, but I knew I had to do it. I took the mobile Sutherland had given me out of my pocket and sent him a text message. I told him I had a family emergency to deal with and that I’d see him onboard the ferry. He wouldn’t like it, but I couldn’t see that he had any choice in the matter. He was under pressure to make the trip, so there was no chance of him cancelling it. I switched the mobile back off and put it away.

I found Sarah sitting in the far corner of the bar. The place wasn’t busy. A handful of students were sitting around writing essays on their laptops. I sat down opposite Sarah. She didn’t look at me.

‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Andrew Bancroft, Joe?’

‘How could I?’

She eventually put her drink down and stared at me. ‘Did you really think my dad was corrupt?’

I wanted to say I’d never given it a moment’s thought, but I was done with lying. ‘I didn’t know what to think. Once I knew Bancroft had been murdered, I didn’t know where it was going to lead, or who was going to be implicated.’ I paused, trying to find the right words. ‘My main concern was for you and Lauren.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you even entertained the thought. There’s no way he would be involved in anything like that.’

‘Did he tell you what happened when he went with Reg Holborn to my dad’s pub? Frank Salford was running a police-approved protection racket. My dad received a visit.’ I explained how Holborn linked everything together. He was corrupt and had his own team working for him.

‘You don’t know my dad well at all if you doubted him even for a minute.’

‘I had to be sure before I told you about it.’ For all the anger I felt towards Don, I knew deep down that he wasn’t corrupt. But it was a fine line. ‘He was there when my dad was beaten. He didn’t stop it.’ I didn’t need to say anything further. The beating may have been the cause of his death, but there was no way of knowing. Dwelling on it wasn’t going to help me. ‘I said some bad things to your dad.’