The Crooked Beat (5 page)

I thanked them. Hull really was like a large village at times.

I’d done what I could for now. I headed back to my flat. It was one of five in a converted house on Westbourne Avenue. I sat down for a moment in my living room in the hope I could make sense of what had happened during the day. My mobile vibrated. I took it out of my pocket and read the text message. Niall had told Ruth he’d been mugged. I doubted she believed him, but if that was the official line, I’d play along with it. I needed to eat, so I heated up a tin of soup. I found some bread to accompany it and sat back down. I needed to make some connections between what I knew. My concentration was broken by the noise of the buzzer to my flat. I put the soup down and walked over to the window. A car drove off, loud music escaping from its open windows. I couldn’t see who was at the door, so I went into the kitchen and picked up a pan. It was the best I had to hand. I left my flat and walked down the stairs to the front door and carefully opened it.

It was Connor. ‘Can I come up?’ he said.

I relaxed and closed the door behind him. Back in my flat, I put the pan away and found two bottles of beer.

‘Did your mate just drop you off?’ I asked.

‘That was Milo.’

I’d fed him bottles of milk when he was a baby. Now I was feeding him bottles of beer. And it didn’t feel all that long ago. Debbie and I had regularly looked after him so Niall and Ruth could enjoy a night out. Those had been happy days. We’d played along with the situation, wondering what it’d be like to have a child of our own. Her death in a house fire had put an end to that.

‘I’m worried about Dad,’ Connor said, drawing me back to the present.

I swallowed a mouthful of lager. ‘He’s working hard. He’ll have the bar ready in no time. Once it’s open, he’ll be fine.’

‘What if nobody comes?’

‘People always want a drink.’ Niall was a proud man. I admired the fact he’d worked hard all his life and stuck at things. Loud factories and long hours hadn’t bothered him. I knew he could make a success of anything. I asked Connor how the club promoting was going.

Connor shrugged. ‘They don’t take me seriously.’

‘Who?’

‘Mum and Dad.’

‘I’m sure they do.’

‘Dad doesn’t.’

‘He’s out of his comfort zone. Don’t be too hard on him.’ The world had changed. Hull was changing. I knew leisure and consumerism was where it was at. Maybe green technology would be the next big thing. I certainly didn’t have any of the answers.

‘I’m trying to get something off the ground in a club,’ he said. ‘Our own night. It’s not easy.’

‘With Milo?’

‘He’s got the contacts to get us started.’

I couldn’t be too hard on him. My dream had been to play for Hull KR, but like my dad, it hadn’t have provided much of a living for either of us. It was never going to be a career. Not that I was given the chance to see how far I could push it. One bad tackle and it was all over. I passed Connor another beer and asked him the question that was on my mind. ‘Why did you take the cigarettes?’ He was peeling the sticker on the bottle, avoiding eye contact. ‘That’s why you’ve come here, isn’t it?’

The tiniest nod of his head. I waited for him to speak. I stared out of the window into the darkness. There was no way someone had stumbled on to the cigarettes by accident. I’d seen the lock. Terry Gillespie just wanted the easy money. And I didn’t see Peter Hill having it in him to double-cross people. He was in over his head. It didn’t leave many suspects. No one else knew the cigarettes were in the lock-up. It had to be someone close. It only left Connor.

‘I heard Dad on the telephone talking about them,’ he eventually said. ‘I told Milo about them and he said we should sell them to get the club night up and running. I didn’t think it through properly.’

I swallowed a mouthful of beer. Sometimes the most stupid decisions are no more than that. Especially when you’re young.

‘You can’t tell my dad.’

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘What did you do with them?’

‘Milo said he knew someone who’d take them off our hands.’

‘Who bought them?’

‘I don’t know. Milo sorted it.’

‘Who is Milo?’ I asked, more interested in him now.

‘He’s a mate. I met him out clubbing a while back. He’s got some great ideas about what the city’s nightlife needs. Everyone thinks he’s the business.’

‘And you wanted to be in the mix with him?’

‘Something like that.’

He didn’t sound too clever to me. I was going to speak to speak to him. ‘Where will I find him?’

‘Don’t tell my dad. Please. I’ll sort it.’

I put my drink down. ‘How are you going to sort it, Connor?’

He stood up. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. It’s not your problem.’

I stood up, too. ‘If it concerns my family, it is my problem.’

‘I’ll get the money from somewhere.’ He handed me his empty beer bottle. ‘It’s my mess to sort out, Uncle Joe.’

Connor left. I watched him go before putting some music on low. I had to stop the police ruining Connor’s life before it had even started. I stared at the wall in front of me. Things were a mess. I knew Connor wasn’t a bad lad, but like most at his age, he’d gone off the rails a bit. It would break Niall’s heart to know Connor had taken the cigarettes. I couldn’t tell him. I tried to put it to the back of my mind and enjoy the music. My mobile vibrated. A text message from Sarah. Could I meet her at Hull Royal Infirmary? Don had been attacked. She was in the café waiting on news. I let the news sink in before slowly easing myself up. I’d drunk three bottles of beer without even realising, and that was enough these days to knock me slightly off-kilter.

I found my coat and locked up. The cool air helped to clear my head straight as I walked to the hospital.

Hull Royal Infirmary was my least favourite building in the city. The ever-present scaffolding on its front gave the impression it was about to fall down at any moment. I made my way up the stairs to the cafe. It was quiet at this time of night. Sarah was sitting in the corner, nursing a cup of tea. I made my way over to her and asked how Don was doing.

‘They’ve moved him to a ward, so he’s settled for the night.’

‘What happened?’

‘I don’t really know. It seems his neighbour heard a lot noise, arguing, and knocked on his door. Whoever was in there ran straight out and fled. She called an ambulance and then me. That’s all I’ve been able to find out. I can’t speak to him until the morning.’

There was nothing more we could do for now. ‘Where’s Lauren?’ I asked.

‘I got a friend to look after her. She’s happy to wait until I get home.’

‘Good.’

I told her that Connor had taken the cigarettes.

‘Does Niall know?’

‘He can’t know. It’d destroy him.’

‘It’s not healthy to keep secrets.’

‘I haven’t got a choice.’

She nodded her head in agreement, complicit in my decision. ‘If you think it’s for the best.’

I said it was.

Sarah took a notebook out of her coat pocket. ‘I’ve been working, too.’ She passed me her notes. ‘Here’s some more on the Palmer family. I decided to have a dig around.’

I skimmed through the notes. Sarah told me about Alan Palmer. ‘He also worked with George Sutherland, back in the day.’

‘Keeping it in the family.’

‘When he wasn’t in prison, obviously. Alan’s got a history.’

‘What about Carl?’

‘He’s not been to prison yet, but that’s more through luck than judgement.’

Witnesses changing their minds about what they’d seen. It was a familiar story. I passed her the notebook back. ‘He’s dangerous, then.’

‘In a nutshell.’

We sat in silence for a few moments before I told her there was nothing more we could do here for the time being. ‘You should try and get some sleep. Keep things normal for Lauren.’ Working for clients was one thing, but it’s a different thing altogether when it happens on your own doorstep. At least Don wasn’t in any immediate danger. I told her I’d walk her home. She was still shaken. ‘I’ll sleep on your settee tonight.

I left Sarah’s house early. My night’s sleep on her settee had been uncomfortable and disjointed, not least because I was thinking about what had happened to Don. Sarah had woken me with a cup of coffee and toast. She didn’t want Lauren to see me lying there. I understood what she was saying. Lauren was preparing to move up to senior school, so it was an important time for her. I’d quickly got myself dressed and on the move. As I walked back towards my flat to collect my car, I knew I had to help Don. I’d told Sarah that much. It was the least I could do. He’d gone the extra mile for me in the past. It was time for me to repay the favour.

I couldn’t lose sight of my other problems, though. My call to Connor went straight to voicemail. I told him to call me back immediately. By the time I’d reached my flat, he’d returned my call. Connor hadn’t wanted to give me Milo’s work address, but he knew he had no choice in the matter. He sounded resigned to giving me the details. I could find it out. All he would be doing was saving me time. And, as I pointed out to him, time was what we didn’t have a lot of.

Milo worked for his father’s business, a public relations agency based on Priory Park. I negotiated my way through the maze of car dealerships which dominated the area and found the new-build offices at the back of the development. The reception area was light and airy, no doubt designed to put you at ease when you walked in. The walls were decorated with boards and posters promoting the developing green technology sector around the Humber. I could see similar boards promoting the new City Plan
and City of Culture
bid. Above the reception desk was the company logo and strapline. “Helping you to tell your story”. It was bullshit. I didn’t know what to make of it. The table in the middle of the room had trade magazines and brochures casually arranged on it. I leafed through them until a middle aged man appeared in front of me. He was casually dressed, yet smart enough to make it clear he was at work. Tricky to pull off the look, but he’d done it. It was something which eluded me.

‘Can I help you?’ he said.

I put the magazine down. ‘I’m looking for Milo.’

‘Milo?’

I nodded.

He smiled at me, understanding. ‘You mean Miles? I can never get used to my son being called that.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘It’s usually only his friends who call him Milo.’

‘I’m more a friend of a friend.’

‘I see.’

He was uncomfortable with the situation, but I was standing my ground. I was banking on the fact he didn’t want a man dressed in jeans and an old jumper fouling up his reception area in front of clients. He eventually called out his son’s name. Milo walked in, chewing gum, hands in his pockets. He was a clone of Connor with the same haircut, studded earring and tattoos creeping out from under his shirt sleeves. The smile on his face soon disappeared when he saw me. He was definitely scared of me. He told his dad he could handle it. We waited for him to leave.

‘Take a walk with me,’ I said.

‘Can’t we do it in here?’

I shook my head. ‘No we can’t, Miles.’ It was a cheap shot, but I wanted to bring him down a peg or two by using his proper name. He reluctantly followed me outside. The Humber Bridge stood behind us, simultaneously beautiful and brutal looking. I walked until we were out of sight. He needed to know I wasn’t messing about. I grabbed him by the shirt and pinned him against the nearest wall. I told him who I was.

‘Connor’s uncle?’

‘That’s right.’

‘It was a laugh that got out of hand, that’s all. We didn’t mean any harm by it.’

‘How can you not mean harm by it? You stole the cigarettes.’

The cockiness I’d seen when he’d sauntered into the reception area to meet me returned to his eyes now he knew I wasn’t a direct threat to him.

He smiled at me. ‘You can hardly claim the moral high ground, can you? Whose cigarettes are they, really?’

I released my grip and walked away. He was right. I wasn’t really in a position to judge. I had to deal with the consequences of what had happened. It was as simple as that.

I switched the SIM cards and called Carl Palmer’s number.

He answered immediately. ‘I don’t like being fucked about.’

‘Calm down, Carl.’ I was willing to bet only a handful of people used the number and all their numbers were likely to be stored in the mobile’s memory. My number would have stood out like a sore thumb to him. Silence. I let him chew over the fact I knew his name.

He laughed. ‘You’re good. How did you get this number?’

I ignored the question.

‘I want them back,’ he said.

‘They’re yours?’

‘I want them back.’

‘I want to speak to their real owner.’

‘Have you got them to return?’

‘Not yet. That’s what I want to speak to their owner about.’

Silence for a few moments. I waited for him to come back on the line. ‘That can be arranged,’ he said.

I wanted to do it in public. ‘There’s a Starbucks in St Stephens. I’ll be there at mid-day.’ I hung up.

I headed for Don’s house. It wasn’t much of a detour before heading to Starbucks. I had no master plan for the meeting with Palmer and his boss, so the sooner I got it over and done with, the better. I knocked on the door of Don’s neighbour. A woman in her sixties answered.

‘How is Don?’ she asked. She didn’t ask me in.

‘He’s on the mend.’

‘Pleased to hear it.’

I told her that I used to work with Don.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘In the police?’

‘His more recent job.’ It was clearly the wrong answer, as she took a step back into her house. I matched it and moved forward a little. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

‘I’ve already spoken with the police.’

‘I’m here to help Don.’

She looked me up and down, like she was weighing up whether I was to be trusted or not. ‘There’s not much I can tell you. The man ran out as I shouted Don’s name.’

‘Did you get a good look at him?’

‘I’m afraid not. He was too fast for me. I’d say he was in his thirties. Big and muscular, but rough looking with it.’