The End of the Roadie (A Mystery for D.I Costello) (22 page)

“I do,” she reassured him. “So tell me about it.”

Gary cleared his throat, marshalled his thoughts and began to speak. Angela wrote it down in his notebook as she listened.

What he said threw a whole new light on the case.

Ten minutes to midnight.

Angela and Gary, with Brendan crouched low behind them in the back seat, watched Brendan’s silver BMW with the tinted windows nose its way past the brightly lit front of the all-night supermarket, cruising gently among the few stationary cars. It moved as if the driver couldn’t decide where to park the vehicle, heading away from the well-lit central area to the shadowed edges of the car park, and eventually gliding to a halt in a gloomy corner made even darker by the branches of an overhanging tree.

After a few moments Des emerged, gazing all around. If he recognized the Homicide Assessment Team car parked alongside a warehouse on a side street opposite, he gave no sign of it. His eyes swept across them and continued to search. They sat low in their seats, the car concealed in the deep shadow thrown by a lorry parked on their other side. Des ambled casually towards a supermarket trolley standing abandoned, half-in and half-out of the car park. The neighbourhood, heavily industrialized and no doubt a hive of activity during the day, still showed signs of life at this time of the night. Darkness hid the grime and the dust but couldn’t disguise the litter, the unkempt feel to the place, the potholes in the roads.

Moving cautiously behind them, Brendan leaned carefully forward, keeping his head ducked low.

“I don’t know why, but I’m feeling nervous,” he murmured.

“I can understand that,” replied Angela. “I think it’s only natural.” They watched in silence as Des reached the trolley and glanced about. Apart from the BMW, no other
car stood within a fifty-yard radius. The only signs of human life were those of the late-night customers at the supermarket across the vast expanse of empty parking spaces. Des took a bulky A4 manila envelope from inside his coat, placing it very clearly and deliberately in the trolley. He took another sweeping glance around, then started slowly back towards the BMW. He got in, started up the engine and drove back the way he had come. He kept his cool throughout; completely unhurried, just as he’d been instructed.

Angela pressed a button on the radio device. “Rick?” she asked in a very soft voice, once her signal had been answered.

“We’re in position, Angie,” came Rick’s answer, equally low. He and Jim had stationed themselves behind a bus shelter, on the other side of the main road in front of the supermarket. “From where we’re standing we can see Leanne and Derek sitting on the bench in front of the supermarket, looking like a couple in love.”

“I don’t think that’s going to tax their acting skills to any great degree,” smiled Angela.

“I heard that,” said Derek.

Angela gave a gentle laugh. “I should hope so. OK, we play a waiting game now, team.”

The radios fell silent. Brendan stretched himself out along the back seat and Angela and Gary made themselves as comfortable as they could in front.

Ten minutes past midnight.

“What’s that?” asked Gary. He’d yawned and pushed out his arms in front of him to stretch, but arrested his movement in the middle of the action.

Angela had heard the same noise, but Brendan was the first to answer. “It sounded like a tin scraping along the ground,” he said, very low, resuming his crouching position, head close to the front seat.

“I think you’re right,” agreed Angela. “It seemed to come from round the front of this warehouse.” Automatically they looked to their right but could only see the brick wall of the building. A few moments later a figure passed in front of the car, staggering and lurching, a beer can clutched precariously in his hand. “Ah,” said Angela. “Must have been sitting on the ground or on the wall round the front.”

“Yes, he probably scraped the can when he got up,” added Gary.

“Do you think he’s our bloke pretending to be a drunk?” ventured Brendan.

“It’s a possibility,” answered Gary. “But if the blackmailer is the man I saw touting in front of the theatre on the night of the murder, then no. This one’s a bit shorter and stockier, for a start.”

They all watched as the drunk lurched forward towards the car park entrance where the trolley was positioned, his erratic progress punctuated by frequent stops to take sips of his beer. His back was towards them. As he reached the pavement he blocked the trolley from their view.

Angela opened up her radio. “Everybody there?” she asked, and received a soft chorus from Jim and Derek in the affirmative. “Can you all see what we’re looking at?” she asked, to another gentle chorus assuring her they could. “Nobody do anything rash,” she whispered. “He could be a genuine drunk. Keep your eyes peeled because at the moment, from where we’re sitting, he’s blocking our view of the trolley.” The man reached the trolley and swayed over it. “What’s he doing, Rick?” asked Angela.

“He must have come to the end of the can because he’s squashing it now,” replied Rick.

“Ah, yes,” said Angela. “We can hear the crunch, and he’s swearing.”

The can clattered into the trolley, and Gary and Angela immediately opened the doors of the car. The drunk continued to sway over the trolley.

“What’s happening?” asked Angela, frustrated at only having a back view of the man. She and Gary moved a leg carefully out of each side of the car. “Is he picking up the money?” she asked. She could see he was doing something with his hands but couldn’t tell what.

“It’s OK,” came Rick’s voice. “He’s just getting another can out of his jacket.”

As he spoke, Angela saw the drunk turn slightly. He got to work on the ring pull and brought the new can up to his mouth. She and Gary drew their legs back into the car and closed the doors silently. “All right, everybody, false alarm,” she said, as they all watched the man move away from the trolley towards the supermarket, leaving the empty can in it with the manila envelope.

A different voice came on the radio: Jim. “I don’t think that’s a completely false alarm,” he said.

“You’re going to have to explain that,” said Angela.

“I was keeping my eyes peeled,” he replied. “When that drunk turned up and started swaying about, I think I saw something. It wouldn’t have been in your and Gary’s eyeline, Angie, because there are all those recycling bins between you and that part, but it looked to me like someone moved from behind the trees where the car park goes up the side of the shop. I couldn’t make it out properly, but just as we realized that the man was a genuine drunk and he started moving on, the shadows went back to normal. I could be wrong, of course.”

“I bet you’re not,” replied Angela. “He’s got to be watching the trolley. He’s got eight hundred reasons to see that nothing happens to it. OK, everybody. Let’s settle down.”

They didn’t have long to wait. Fifteen minutes later, a man came walking across the car park, dressed in a fleece with the logo of the supermarket on the breast. He moved at a steady pace, giving the impression of a worker sent out to round up all the stray trolleys in the area. As he reached the trolley, he turned slightly to take hold of the handle, and they could see the ponytail hanging down his back. “Oh, yes. I think so,” whispered Gary.

He and Angela opened their doors again and began to slide out of the car. “OK, everybody,” she said into the radio, “Gary’s given me the nod. Can you all see what’s happening?” She received another chorus of answers and this time Jim and Rick appeared from behind the bus shelter. Derek and Leanne stood up and began to move in the same direction as the newcomer. “Gently does it,” cautioned Angela. “We mustn’t let that trolley out of our sight.”

The “worker” glanced all around. He began pushing. But instead of heading for the trolley park by the main doors, he kept going towards the side of the building where the recycling bins stood – exactly where Jim had already thought he’d caught sight of him.

They followed him round the back. Several overflowing waste bins lined the service road behind the shop. He pushed the trolley away from him, moving into the pool of light shining down from the bulkhead lamp over one of the back doors. Rick, Jim, Leanne and Derek had all managed to hide behind the bins. Angela and Gary moved to stand behind one of several delivery vans parked along the road. Angela looked about, making a speedy reconnoitre
.
One end of the service road was covered by the team, but if the quarry turned out to be quick on his feet, the minute they approached he could sprint to the other end and disappear. She tapped Gary on the shoulder and, using hand signals, indicated the problem. He nodded to
show he understood and she set off, moving stealthily behind the line of vans. Gary followed. Once in place, they poked their heads gingerly out from behind the last vehicle.

The would-be blackmailer was still absorbed in his task. Apparently savouring the moment, he slowly undid the flap of the envelope, the smile of anticipation on his face revealed in the lamplight. He peered into the envelope and punched the air in triumph. They all heard him say, “Yes!” and watched as he began to extract the notes. The money was in eight bundles of £100 each, in mixed denominations. Angela waited until he’d put two of them into his jeans’ pocket before speaking into her radio.

“Gary and I are covering the far end of the road. Move in!”

Rick and Jim stepped out from behind their bin. “Police! We’ll take that, thank you,” said Rick.

The man’s head jerked up, a horrified look on his face. He recovered from the shock and reacted very quickly. “No way, you filth!” he yelled, and tore off at a very impressive speed, straight towards Angela and Gary. Rick, Jim, Derek and Leanne chased after him, and he made the big mistake of concentrating more on his pursuers than who might be blocking his way ahead. Angela and Gary stepped out in front and straddled the narrow space. The man turned to face forward just at the same moment he banged into Angela. “Out of my way!” he shouted, as the collision checked his flight.

“I don’t think so,” said Angela. Whatever else she had been about to say died on her lips as she saw the man’s hand dive into his pocket; a familiarly shaped object inside it suddenly pointed straight at her.

A pit opened at the bottom of her stomach but in the split second before she spoke, her only thought was a very pragmatic,
Oh no, not again.

“OK, everybody, freeze!”

Instant stillness settled over the service road.

The man straightened up slowly. He waved the gun in his pocket to indicate she and Gary should move to one side. “Out of my way,” he ordered.

Angela mingled silent prayers with a firm reassurance to herself:
This is not the same as last time; this is not the same as last time
. She looked at Gary and they cautiously began to move.

Angela remembered this feeling, this dryness of the mouth, the pit opening up in the stomach.

A fear like no other she’d ever experienced.

Nobody moved.

Time stood still.

Then Leanne suddenly came forward. Quickly she came right up to the man. “Don’t worry, guv,” she said, in an astonishingly normal tone. “He’s not going to shoot you.”

“Leanne! What are you doing? Don’t try any heroics!” cried Angela, in a horrified voice. But as she spoke she immediately saw the shoulders of their quarry slump; a look of chagrin crossed his face. Leanne put her hand into his jacket. And pulled out a banana.

“You couldn’t see it from your angle, guv,” she said, with a grin. “But his pocket flops open a bit and I caught a glimpse from behind.”

“We were held up by a man with a banana!” exclaimed Angela, in amazement. She burst into laughter, as much a reaction to the sudden horrific fear that had gripped her as to the humour of the moment. “Are we ever going to live this down?”

Jim, sarcastic smile on his face, stepped forward and grabbed the man’s arm. “Very funny, sonny,” he said. “Now it’s our turn to take you for a ride.”

“Oi! Get your hands off me! I ain’t done nothing! This is police brutality, this is.”

Jim brought him to a halt in front of Angela.

“We need to ask you a few questions,” she said. “Do you have any ID on you?”

“I’m saying nothing.”

“No matter,” said Angela. “We’ll sort everything out at the station.” She looked across at the rest of her team.

“Do you want me to go and bring the car round, guv?” asked Derek.

Angela nodded at Leanne.
Derek got the opportunity to breathe the same air as his idol. Why shouldn’t you get your chance to meet Brendan Phelan?
she thought. “You go, Leanne,” she said. “Tell Brendan that he can now call Des to come back and get him. He’s only parked round the nearest corner. Tell him we’ll call on him tomorrow.”

A broad smile stretched itself across Leanne’s face. She even gave a small hop of excitement. “Righto, guv,” she squeaked.

“Make sure you introduce yourself, or he might think you’re a fan who’s happened to recognize him in passing.”

Beaming, Leanne set off. Even before she got to the corner of the road, they could see she’d pulled a comb out of her bag and was running it through her hair.

Angela turned back to the man they’d caught. The way Jim was holding him had pulled up the sleeves of his fleece and the hawk tattoos could clearly be seen.
Hey! Look at that ink
, she thought, experiencing a burst of excitement. She had to stop herself punching the air in a display of triumphalism as she met his resentful gaze. “Right, Mr Hawk-arms, would you like to explain about this £800 you’re carrying?” she asked.

“How do you know it’s –” He realized his mistake a split second too late. “I didn’t know what was in the envelope. I
just opened it out of curiosity. You’re trying to trap me, that’s what you’re doing.”

Why would we waste our time when you’re already doing such an efficient job of it yourself?
thought Angela. “It’s a lot of money,” she added. “You wouldn’t earn that much, stacking shelves in there.” She nodded towards the supermarket. “Shall we go in and have a word with the manager?”

“I don’t work there,” he said, and saw Angela’s eyes move to the logo on his fleece. “I just borrowed this from a mate who does.”

“So you borrowed the jacket so that you’d look like an employee here in order to pick up £800 in blackmail money.”