Bad Sons (Booker & Cash Book 1) (19 page)

She took me in with a professional appraisal and slowly shook her head. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant and didn’t feel the need to ask. The shopkeeper hovered at her shoulder. It was clear she did not wish to discuss our business in front of him.

She looked at my feet, or rather my bloodied socks. ‘Can you walk?’

‘I can make it to your car, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Come on then.’

She thanked the man. I thanked the man. The man looked like we’d made his day. Perhaps his week – Appledore didn’t strike me as the kind of place that saw much excitement.

Jo waited until we had left the village and crossed the single-lane bridge that spanned the Royal Military Canal before she began her quiz questions.

I gave her the unabridged version of my previous night’s experience. And then I gave her a couple of quiet minutes to make something of it.

‘You didn’t actually see your abductors?’

‘No. But I don’t think it takes much working out who one of them was, do you?’

‘A voice you might recognise?’

‘Nothing.’

She nodded and drove some more.

‘Do you need medical attention?’ She said it like she really hoped I didn’t.

‘No. I can see to myself if you can take me home. What are you going to do?’

‘Take you home.’

‘About Flashman?’

‘Speak to him.’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s all I can do. I’ll take it from there. If he breaks down into a sobbing confession I’ll arrest him for kidnap. If he doesn’t then, unless there is some forensic evidence or witnesses to show his involvement, I won’t be able to charge him with anything.’

‘You are joking?’

She ignored it. ‘You said you had the registration number for the van. What is it?’

I recited it.

‘There’s a pen and paper in there.’ She pointed at the glove box. ‘Write it down.’

A disturbing thought struck me. ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’

She risked a quick look in my direction. ‘Yes. I believe you.’

‘There’s something else.’ I told her about the diary and the entries of what looked like times and dates with the word PLUTO and what I made of it.

‘Show it to me when we get there.’

I put forward a theory of my own for her to chew on. ‘With how they reacted to my spying on them last night, what if they discovered my aunt and uncle were monitoring their activities and treated them worse, or just more immediately?’

We were bowling along the country roads between settlements and she pulled into a gap in the verge at a gateway to a field. She turned off the engine and turned to face me. She looked as serious as I’d ever seen her. She wore a mask of seriousness. ‘Go on.’

‘I’m sure you’re already ahead of me but just to humour you there is obviously something illegal going in and out of that yard and has been for some time. Honest people don’t conduct their business at two in the morning in hushed voices without lights in otherwise deserted builder’s yards.

‘Last night was the second time I’d noticed activity late at night and that van there. They were moving something in or out of that container. They understood I had been watching them then waited for me and then they kidnapped me. I don’t believe in coincidence too much, certainly not when it involves such rare levels of violence. I have no doubt that if I had stayed trussed up in the barn they would have been back to finish me off after they’d got any information they wanted from me. If I’m right so far then the fact that they will engage in murder and kidnap tells me that whatever criminal activity they are involved in must reflect the lengths they have gone to to protect it.’

After a long moment studying my face, she said, ‘You have a very fertile imagination.’

‘Or I’m right.’

She made a face that I took to understand she hadn’t ruled it out.

‘Which do you think, Detective?’

‘I’m taking you home. I’ll call the DI. I think we should have a look in that container.’

She phoned the station while I stared out of the window. She spoke with Sprake and explained things. It sounded like he already knew some of it.

He must have been impressed with the information and its implications because I heard her agreeing to wait at the bookshop for him, the warrant and the team he would bring with him.

She terminated the call and looked at me. ‘Satisfied?’

‘Not yet. But it’s a start.’

We drove home.

***

28

As Jo was no stranger to the place I left her to her own devices while I showered, cleaned my cuts, dressed and generally made myself feel better.

I came out of the bathroom and limped along to my bedroom with just a towel around my waist. I didn’t expect to find her in there.

She was at the window looking down into the yard and I understood why. It was the best view of the place in the whole building. She heard me coming and turned. I don’t think she was expecting me to be half naked. I caught her looking at my body, but it was more an appraisal of my colouring and my injuries than my form.

‘How are your ribs?’

‘Sore.’

She didn’t seem embarrassed by our situation. ‘This is where you heard and saw them from?’

I agreed.

‘I’ll leave you to get dressed, then. They’ll be here soon.’

‘I’m coming down with you, right?’

‘Wrong. You’ll stay here. You have no business over there and the DI would have a chicken-fit if he saw you contaminating the place.’

‘Contaminating the place? That’s not a nice thing to say.’

She allowed herself a little smile. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. I’ll let you know what happens.’

I stood back to let her leave me to get dressed. She walked past me without a second glance and went downstairs.

I dabbed the cuts on my feet with Savlon. In the absence of bandaging I Sellotaped some toilet roll over the worst of them, put on two pairs of socks and gingerly stepped into some trainers. I couldn’t tie the laces. The pressure of my weight on my feet was going to hurt for a while. Like the pain in my side, I would just have to get used to it; just keep taking the painkillers and believing in them.

I asked Jo if she’d mind getting me a breakfast baguette from the baker’s. I was bordering on starvation and the time it would take me to get there and back with my foot I didn’t have to waste. She gave me a theatrical sigh but did it.

*

We were in my kitchen. She was standing, I was sitting. We both had hot drinks and my stomach had quietened down. We’d spent fifteen forgettable minutes waiting for the cavalry. She said that when the search warrant had been served she’d go looking for Flashman junior.

I was getting to like Detective Cash more and more and decided I’d try her again on a drink before long. As we were talking, her phone rang – they’d arrived.

She gave me a final warning: ‘Stay here. You come down, you’ll be making trouble for both of us.’

I wanted to ask her how that could make trouble for her but she’d gone.

I had to content myself with looking out of the window – one of my specialities. At least I had a ringside seat.

As I stood watching the police get through the chain around the gates with bolt-croppers, I reflected grimly on what Flashman’s reaction would be when he realised I’d escaped and brought the law to his door. I wished I could be there when that happened.

The police had a dog with them. It was making a lot of noise. It looked more like the kind of dog you’d want to pet than run from. It looked like the kind of dog I’d seen on police TV documentaries sniffing for drugs through airport luggage.

They were at the container. Sprake and Jo stood back to let the brawn do its job. The boiler-suited officer restraining the dog had his work cut out. Two other uniformed constables stood in attendance.

It took them about thirty seconds to get the lock off. Looks were exchanged and I saw Sprake nod they should get on with it. One of the PCs stepped forward. I heard the big handles clumsily worked and then the door was opened wide.

I could not see into the container from where I was. But I could see from the reactions of those present that there was something in there to interest them mightily. Good. I was afraid it might have been emptied as a precaution, although with me taken care of they probably thought they had nothing to worry about. It gave me a certain satisfaction.

The uniforms stood back to let Sprake and Jo go first. They were in there less than a minute. Sprake came out and I saw him shake his head once then speak to one of the officers. He got on his communications device.

Jo looked up at me. She knew I’d be there. Her face seemed a little paler than before. What I could make out of her expression gave her an earnestness. No change there. Even over the distance between us I could make out her eyes. They were locked on to mine. She shook her head briefly and then went about her business.

What did that mean? Nothing in there? No one else had gone in. Was there nothing to investigate after all? I was suddenly concerned. If they found nothing they might not be out making arrests and if they weren’t out making arrests then the people who had abducted me the previous night would remain at liberty to finish what they’d started if that’s how they felt.

I limped downstairs. I was going to go to the concrete panel fence and call over to Jo. She wouldn’t be able to ignore me and, so long as I stayed my side of the boundary divide, Sprake couldn’t object. If he did, he could kiss my arse.

I was slowly making my way down the back stairs when I heard the familiar crunch of shoes on gravel. Someone was coming my way. I got to the door the same time as Jo arrived.

‘Where are you going?’

‘A smoke. You know I don’t smoke in the house.’

She gave me her look.

‘Well?’

She took a deep breath. ‘There’s a body in there.’

The smile that had formed at my quick and clever evasion froze and then thawed to curdle.

‘Describe it?’

‘Tall, slim, fit looking, young, dark hair, male. Cowboy boots.’

‘Flashman. You’re saying he’s dead?’

‘Very.’

‘How?’

‘Difficult to say.’

‘Take a guess.’ I was suddenly angry.

‘No – and calm down.’

‘Calm down? He was my link.’

‘You need to focus on suppressing some of your emotions, Mr Booker.’

We were back to formality and for a couple of reasons I didn’t like it. We were spared further negative exchanges by the figure of DI Sprake traipsing across the gravel.

He gave me a good hard look. ‘DC Cash has told me all about your little adventure last night. And if I’m honest I’m having a job believing what I’m hearing.’

It wasn’t said in incredulous sympathetic wonderment, rather with a large dollop of doubt.

‘Well that’s your problem.’ I caught Jo rolling her eyes.

‘No, it’s yours, actually. I want some answers and I want them now.’

I had nothing to add.

He made to push past me into the building and I did a stupid thing. I blocked him off. He studied me with rising anger. ‘You’re not letting me in?’

‘What for?’

‘I want to look at the scene of your alleged abduction.’

‘Then get a warrant. I’m done with cooperation.’

He turned his big cod head towards Jo. Something passed between them.

‘I’ll give you two minutes to talk some sense into him.’ He walked heavily away.

She speared me with an angry look. ‘What the hell are you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking I don’t like his attitude or his thinly-veiled suspicions of me.’

‘He is doing his job and you are stopping him. Think about that and how it looks.’

She was right, of course, but that didn’t mean I would just cave in.

‘David?’ That was a cheap shot.

‘All right. I’m doing it for you, not for him, though.’

‘You need to start thinking about helping yourself.’

I didn’t answer her. I moved a couple of paces off, took out a smoke and lit up. Flashman was dead. Where did that leave me? He was the only name I could put to a face. His was the only face. There was still the van registration number to chase up. On the bright side, the police now had a tangible lead to pursue that didn’t involve me.

Sprake came back across the yard with Jo. He stopped in front of me.

‘You’re inviting us in for a look around?’

‘Tell me why, first; why do you want to look around in here?’

‘There is a dead man over the fence. You claim that only last night he was part of a gang to kidnap you. How could he have done that if he was locked up in his container and dead?’