The Ultimate Selection: Be Careful Who You Talk To (10 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The phone on Terry Bane's desk started to ring. He tried to ignore it but the constant noise began to irritate him.

‘Terry Bane,' he said in to the phone's receiver.

‘Hi, Terry, great story, can we meet pal?'

‘When?' Terry replied – he knew the voice.

‘The sooner the better… do you fancy a pint?'

‘Yeah, why not?' Terry replied, smiling to himself. Things had not changed.

‘The Bidders Arms in, let's say, an hour?'

‘Have one waiting for me, mate.' There was no need for goodbyes.

Terry Bane was now a reporter. He worked for
Thames
News
and had been doing the job for nearly five years. He had previously worked as a high-ranking detective at New Scotland Yard. Terry had decided to leave his job at The Yard soon after his wife left him. At the time, Terry had been involved in a murder case – a very high profile murder case. It had been the ever-building media pressure that dictated that the case needed solving quickly. Someone had to be brought to justice and therefore Terry had to commit to working long hours to catch the culprit. This, in turn, had put a strain on his marriage. The pressure had become too much for his wife to cope with, forcing her to make a break from the whole thing that was smothering her life. She couldn't take it anymore and broke free.

She always knew that her husband did not have the luxury of a nine-to-five job. The constant phone calls in the middle of the night drove her crazy and they could never plan anything. Their lives seemed to become an ad-hoc existence.

Terry had taken the whole thing very badly. Once the case was solved and the killer caught, he resigned, though by then it was too late. This was another blow which struck him deep. He had lost his true love. It was this loss that pushed Terry over the edge; he began to drink excessively. He knew he was heading for the gutter if he did not pull himself together; a breakdown soon followed. With the help of his best friend and ex-colleague, James McFarland, Terry cleaned up his act and landed a job as a crime reporter at Thames Television. His background at The Yard had opened doors. He'd done the press a fair few favours in the past and it was time to call them in. Time had proved to be Terry's best ally, time to heal his broken heart, though the deep scars still remained.

Terry now lived with his new girlfriend, Natalie, and was very content with his life. He knew that his friend wanted to talk about the Tinckerton Street Murder. During the next hour, Terry prepared himself for his meeting.

As Terry was getting ready to leave his desk, his phone rang. He was going to ignore it but something told him to pick it up. A copper at heart, he couldn't ignore his gut feeling.

‘Terry Bane,' he said in to the telephone's receiver.

‘Hello, darling.' It was Natalie.

‘Just on my way out to meet McFarland. Sorry sweetheart,' he apologised.

‘Give James my love and I'll see you tonight.'

‘OK, darling, sorry to have to cut and run like this.'

‘No worries. Say hi to James.'

‘I will. Gotta go… bye!' With that, the conversation ended.

Terry knew, and had never allowed himself to forget, how lucky he was to have met Natalie. She always seemed to understand; never questioned him. She trusted him completely.

Terry had met McFarland at Hendon Police Training College a long time ago when they had both joined the force. They had sparked an instant friendship, buddying up almost immediately. They clicked; thought on the same wave length. They were then stationed together and preceded through the ranks at more or less the same speed. They knew each other inside out. Once McFarland had moved from CID to New Scotland Yard, the wagers were flying thick and fast as to how long it would be until Terry followed him.

McFarland openly admitted that it was never the same after Terry left. They had remained great friends; nothing was going to change that.

Even though past evidence had proved that they were a very effective team, they were very different in the way they carried out their investigations. Terry was logical and methodical whereas McFarland was the bull in a china shop, seemingly wild but usually right. It worked. Results were results, and they were both in the results business.

Upon arriving, Terry paused for a moment. His heart started to race, he had not set foot in this establishment for a very long time. He slowly made his way inside. The Bidders Arms was a nice cosy pub, mainly used by people who worked in law enforcement or who were attached to it in one way or another. Police informers, solicitors who had crossed over to the dark, murky side of society.

Terry glanced around. The place had not changed in the slightest. A couple of prostitutes giggled at Terry, one of them flashed her breasts. Terry simply looked away, not interested. A couple of unsavoury faces from the past stirred the acid in his stomach. Terry had acquired an overwhelming hatred for corruption within The Yard.

‘Terry… over here!' a voice called from a table in a quiet corner of the bar.

Terry acknowledged it with a simple hand gesture. As he sat down to join his friend, he was handed a pint of lager.

‘Cheers,' James McFarland smiled, with a hint of a Scottish accent.

‘Cheers. You're losing that accent, mate.'

‘I know, I know,' he smiled. ‘How's Natalie?'

‘She's as great as ever. She sends her love by the way.'

‘It's been a long time, Terry.'

‘I know, too long. Listen, mate, I'm sorry for cutting myself off…'

‘Shut up you fool,' McFarland interrupted. ‘We're mates and, hey, I understand. It's what you had to do. Listen, you went through a shit time. Getting away was the best move for you. It was the coming back to London that surprised me.'

‘I met Natalie, that's why I came back. Oh, and not to mention the fact that I am a Londoner. I could never stay away from the smoke.'

‘Aye, it gets a hold on you after a while.'

‘Cheers McFarland,' Terry said, raising his glass. ‘Now what's this all about?'

‘As if you don't know already.'

Terry looked at James McFarland. They knew each other better than anyone else, as if they were still playing their detective games.

‘Tinckerton Street,' McFarland replied succinctly, confirming Terry's suspicions.

‘What would you like to know?'

‘Who did it?' McFarland laughed. ‘I'm only joking. What's your gut telling you?'

‘Fuck me, how long you got?' Terry smirked. ‘But my gut is telling me one thing.'

‘What's that?'

‘It's telling me to tell you that I'm not coming back to The Yard.'

‘Did I ask?' the Scotsman laughed.

‘No you didn't. But you don't have to McFarland. I know you too well, mate. You've been sent to ask. I know how the wheels within wheels work. Don't treat me like a fucking amateur.'

‘OK, OK. We need your experience. We are never going to solve this case with the fucking muppets that they've assigned. We don't even know if she's insane or not,' McFarland had a passionate side to him. He cared about the public, even if most of them hated him for the career he had chosen.

‘Shit, shit, shit!' Terry spat, showing that he was not impressed.

‘Calm down, Terry. I need you back on the team. You can lead from the rear. I'll take the front.'

‘Natalie will have my balls. What about my day job?'

‘That's taken care of, it's been called a “leave of absence”, McFarland smiled.

‘This has come from the top and the people at Thames have been told – they have humbly agreed to our terms,' McFarland smirked.

‘You sneaky bastard. I never had a choice did I?' Terry smiled. ‘But I'll only agree on my terms.'

‘And they are?'

‘You get another drink in.'

‘Fuck me, nothing's changed there,' McFarland joked.

‘Seriously though, mate…' Terry added, leaning closer, ‘one, I'm not directly reportable to anyone, but you. Two, I'm there in an advisory capacity. McFarland, I can't come back in full capacity – you understand… Natalie would worry. Mate, last time…'

McFarland smiled at him. ‘I know, I know. Your role would simply be neutral. No rank, no warrant badge, on no one's payroll, reportable to me and no one else.'

They were so close that they could be themselves and they knew that if they pissed each other off, it would be forgotten five minutes later.

‘I'll need to speak to Natalie first,' Terry said. ‘Now tell me what you know.'

‘OK. A large, mutilated white male died from being hacked to death with a machete and was found at the scene. This is the strange bit, the victim had been hit on the shoulder once and twice on the head with what seems to be a hammer or something similar. This has not yet been recovered. Their baby… hold on, you know all this!'

‘So he was still alive before she started hacking him with the machete?'

‘Yes, it seems so. She has admitted to the murder but she is sticking to her story that a man in a black skintight suit made her do it.'

‘The baby was unharmed in the next room? I thought that was just what they had told the media, I didn't think it was true. This is a strange one, McFarland.' Terry seemed confused. ‘I think we need to find out her mental state before we proceed. If she has a clean bill of mental health, we should be asking why this guy in a black skintight suit made her kill her boyfriend and why he chose not to harm the child. Did he use the child to force her actions? Why didn't he kill her boyfriend himself? Why didn't he just kill all of them? Does he really exist?' Terry was rambling now.

They both looked at each other, puzzled by what Terry had said.

‘Another drink?' Terry asked, not bothering to wait for a reply. McFarland nodded anyway.

At the bar, Terry looked around; he was feeling a little uncomfortable. Ex-colleagues were looking at him, talking amongst themselves – though they all seemed too embarrassed to talk to him directly. The man behind the bar acted awkwardly. He even fumbled Terry's change.

As he sat back down he took his mobile phone out of his pocket and began to dial. He waited for a response.

‘Natalie… Sweetheart…'

‘Hello darling,' she replied.

‘You know what I'm going to say?' he correctly assumed.

‘Yes I do,' she replied, wearing a wry smile. ‘You know I'll support you in whatever you decide, though I'm not going to lead a lonely life with you working all the hours.'

‘Clear as a whistle. I'll help them with this and that'll be it!'

‘Your choice, you have my full support though please remember what I've said,' she had firmness in her voice.

‘Yes darling… thank you.' He ended the call.

McFarland waited for Terry to speak first.

‘Did they have a landline phone?'

‘Aye they did. That's another thing. Their landline is untouched. It worked perfectly. Normally that would have been ripped from its socket. That's why I'm not convinced Terry.'

‘Or maybe the guy in the black suit was very confident. It's all too… We need to fill in too many blanks.' Terry shrugged his shoulders.

‘Now you see why I need you. Things don't seem to add up.'

‘Nothing is as it first appears McFarland. You of all people should know that.'

The two men finished their drinks.

‘See you in the morning,' McFarland said.

‘Are you picking me up?'

‘Yeah. By the way, only the top brass know about this.'

‘Why doesn't that surprise me?'

‘See you at your house in the morning then,' McFarland confirmed gripping Terry's hand firmly as he shook it.

***

As Terry walked back into the Thames Television offices, he was greeted with a whisper in his ear.

‘We'll call it a career break, a leave of absence.'

Terry turned quickly to see who the comment belonged to.

‘Thanks Dave,' Terry replied.

‘Solve it, mate. Hey, and call me when you're ready come back,' Dave said, with his voice still lowered.

‘I will and thanks again.' The two men privately shook hands so as not to draw any attention.

Terry spent the rest of the afternoon at home going over what he knew. He was trying to look at all possibilities but without a proper look at the scene of crime, he was still blind. He sipped the scotch that he had previously poured himself and fell deep in to his thoughts, reminiscing about cases that he and McFarland had worked on together. They had never left a case unsolved. They were legends, solving the case was his focus and also his fear.

A bottle of champagne appeared from behind the door.

‘Congrats darling.'

‘We need to talk,' Terry said with seriousness in his voice.

‘You're covert, I know.' There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

‘How did you know that?'

‘Come on darling, The Yard can't be seen to have to beg an ex-one-of-their-own back to solve a case that has only just opened, it's because they've not got a clue.'

‘Why didn't I see that?'

‘You're a man. Now are we going to drink this bubbly?'

‘Bloody right we are. Let's order a curry, we're celebrating!'

They continued their celebrations until the early hours, before they both decided that it was time they fell into bed.

***

Morning arrived unannounced. Terry's head throbbed unforgivingly. Once Terry had shaken off the alcohol-induced cobwebs, he kissed Natalie. She was still in a sleep-like coma, completely unaware of her lover's departure.

McFarland picked Terry up as promised and they headed for the scene of crime. They both separated once at Tinckerton Street, preferring to do their own investigating and pooling resources later. This had proved successful in solving past cases. Even though the crime scene was no longer fresh, Terry was still able to look at most of the important things. All the time he was taking notes, questions were popping up in his mind. He was also interested in reading Sharon's statement, to see whether she was telling the truth. So many questions, he knew that he was going to have to interview her himself at some point, to freshen his investigation.