Hail and Farewell (The Lakeland Murders) (9 page)

‘All funded by drugs, loan-sharking and the rest’ said Mann.

‘I do hope that you have evidence to support these wild accusations, DS Mann’ said Bell.

‘Do you really think that I haven’t come across people like you before?’ said Mann, looking straight at Hayton. ‘Just because you’re one step away from the street now, and you’ve got people who are stupid enough to take all the risks for almost none of the reward, that doesn’t change who you are, or what you do. But one thing does interest me. You don’t seem scared.’

‘What, or who, would I be scared of?’

‘How about Jack Moffett?’

Hayton laughed, and held up a hand to stop Bell from speaking.

‘Moffett is fucking finished, and he knows it.’

‘So that’s why he’s got that out-of-town security mob looking after him?’

‘Aye, we’d heard. It’s the last knockings, is that. He can’t even trust his own people any more. It’s sad, in a way. But he’s finished.’

‘So does that mean there’ll be no trouble at the game tonight?’

‘I can’t say that. Not for certain, like. No-one made me the bloody king, worse luck.’

‘But there’s no reason to expect any?’

‘No’ said Bell, before Hayton could answer. ‘None at all. We’re very sorry that the young man died. But we weren’t involved in his death in any way, and if you want to talk to Mr. Hayton again it will need to be at the station, with our lawyer present.’

‘Thanks, mate’ said Jane as they walked back to the car, and Mann wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not. Sometimes he found it hard to tell with Jane.

‘Aye, no worries’ he said, noncommittally.

‘I just don’t know how to deal with bastards like that.’

‘Takes one to know one, you mean?’

‘Of course not. Christ, Ian, you couldn’t be less like those nasty, cowardly little shits.’

‘So does this mean you won’t be asking me to go undercover again?’

Jane smiled, and looked at Mann.

‘I admit that I did run it past Andy as an idea, last night, but he said no. He reckons that as soon as we turned up at the station together that was a non-starter.’

‘Glad to hear it. I don’t want to get, what do you call it? Typecast.’

‘Understood. But you’re still going to have a drink with Smith and Hodgson, before the game?’

‘Oh, aye. It can’t do any harm, and I do like a reasonably priced pint.’

Jane checked her phone when they got back to the car.

‘Email from Keith Iredale. They’ve got something off that video.’

‘This is good work, Keith. And you too, of course, Jenny.’ Jane looked at the stills from the video, with each face numbered. ‘So you’re saying that we’ve got statements from all of these except two, is that right?’

‘Aye’ said Iredale. This one, number 19, and this one, number 37. We’ve got better stills of both of them, here and here.’

‘And one is called Matt Hayton. A relation of George, I take it?’

‘His nephew, aye. He’s the Hayton’s main enforcer. No head for business would be the polite way of putting it, but he’s an animal. There are all sorts of stories about the stuff he’s done.’

‘So he’s got a record?’

‘Oh, aye, he has that.’ Iredale passed over two sheets of A4.

‘Quite a CV.’

‘If you like prison food’ said Mann, reading over her shoulder. ‘He keeps getting caught, the prat.’

‘Apparently they like him being inside. The family, that is,’ said Iredale. ‘Partly because he discourages people from talking to us while he’s inside, and partly because they sometimes want people to know what they’re capable of. So he needs to get caught, like, so everyone knows that it was the Haytons.’

‘So he might have killed Chris?’ asked Jane.

‘He wouldn’t think twice. Probably wouldn’t even think at all, if I’m honest.’

‘And no-one named him because they were frightened?’

‘Aye, probably, and I don’t blame them.’

‘But he’s not mentioned in DI Smith or DS Hodgson’s statement either, is he?’ Jane saw Iredale’s expression and cursed herself inwardly for thinking aloud. ‘Never mind. Where can we find this Matt Hayton? Will he have gone to ground, do you reckon?’

‘I doubt it. You want him brought in?’

‘Yes, of course. And what about this other one? This Tony Gambles. Has he got a record?’

‘Oh, aye. Not nearly as impressive as Hayton’s. For a start it fits on one page, look.’

Mann laughed. ‘So what’s his story then, Keith?’

‘For a start he’s my brother-in-law.’

‘Does that give you a problem?’ asked Jane.

‘No. He was a wrong-‘un long before I was a copper. I’m used to it. But I’ll understand if you want me off the case, boss.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘No way. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than helping to put Tony away. Not that I’m gunning for him or anything like that.’

‘I understand. Tell you what, Keith. You and Ian get Matt Hayton brought in, and I’ll have Gambles picked up.’

‘Now, boss?’

‘Yes, unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.’

‘It’s not that, boss. If you want to be at the game you’ll need to get a move on. They’ll be gathering on the Cloffocks in half an hour or so.’

‘Good point. All right, we’ll bring them in tomorrow. And let’s not share this information with anyone meantime, OK? It’s just between us for now.’

Ian Mann felt at home in the Workingman’s Club from the moment he pushed open the old oak door. It smelt like the one in Kendal, and it looked like it too. The place was busy, no doubt with people fuelling up for the game, and the only difference that Mann could detect was in the chatter. He could hear the difference between this accent and his own, just from the general sound of speech. He liked the fact that both still survived, even though the two towns were only forty miles or so apart.

He saw DI Smith over by the bar, laughing and joking with a group of men and women, all in their twenties or thirties. It looked as if Jimmy Smith was doing most of the talking. He waved an arm to call Mann over.

‘Sir,’ Mann greeted him cautiously.

‘Call me Jimmy, everyone does. And you’re Ian, right?’

‘Right.’

‘What’s your poison?’

Mann glanced at the pumps.

‘Timothy Taylor’s, please.’

Smith ordered and turned back towards the people who were with him.

‘This is the man who took down two bad guys when one of ours was in danger. Chucked one off a roof, didn’t you, Ian?’

Mann looked uncomfortable, but Smith didn’t seem to notice. ‘So you all watch yourselves, if you find yourself up against Ian here in the game tonight.’

‘I’m not playing’ said Mann quickly. ‘Not this time, like.’

‘Shame. Still, you lot are playing, aren’t you?’

Heads nodded, and Smith saw the surprise on Mann’s face.

‘Oh aye, Ian, women play as well these days. One hailed the ball, a few years back. Are you sure you won’t change your mind about it now, like?’

Mann heard Smith’s name being called out, and turned to see DS Hodgson working his way through the throng. Smith bought him a drink, and turned back to the rest of the group.

‘You lot better get out there now, hadn’t you? The grown-ups need a drink in peace.’

Smith watched them all leave, then led Mann and Hodgson to a table that had just been vacated.

‘So how’s it going then, Ian? You decided it was an accident yet? I know it’s bloody obvious to any decent detective, but not to the ACC it seems.’

‘Aye, the kid wasn’t mixed up in anything he shouldn’t have been. That’s for definite,’ said Mann.

‘But does your oppo agree?’ asked Smith.

‘Jane? I think so, aye.’

‘Funny business, that’ said Hodgson. ‘We can’t understand how come she’s SIO when you’re the ranking officer. Mind you, you’re not shagging the boss, like.’

‘How could you tell?’ said Mann, laughing. ‘Jane’s all right. She’s on the fast track, you know how it is.’

‘And you’re on the slow train to nowhere?’ said Smith.

‘Mebbe. I don’t mind.’

‘Just keep your head down, keep your nose clean and do your time?’

‘Aye. A bit like being in prison, when you put it like that.’

‘We’re the same, aren’t we, Kenny?’

‘Oh, aye. Of course we are.’

‘So we won’t have the pleasure of your company for the last game of the year then?’ said Smith, after a sip of his beer. ‘On Saturday, that is.’

‘Probably not, but you know how these things are.’

‘I do, marrer. I was working on this file today; fraud case, open and shut. The bloke more or less coughed to it, but not on tape, the bastard. Anyway, guess how long ago we nicked him?’

‘Dunno. Six months, a year?’

‘Three years, almost to the bloody day. Didn’t someone say that justice delayed is justice denied?’

‘Well it wasn’t the CPS, was it?’ said Mann, and Smith clinked his glass.

‘Nice one. So any new developments, on the Brown case, like? We heard you had some bloke’s video tape of the whole thing.’

Mann took a sip of his drink.

‘Look, lads, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but since there’s really nowt new to tell I will. Aye, we did get that video, but the bloke stopped filming as soon as he saw that something was wrong, and you can’t see very much in the minute or two before that anyway.’

‘Shame’ said Smith. ‘So no solid evidence there then?’

‘Doesn’t look like it. Unless the bloke got more, that he’s holding back for some reason.’

‘Because he thinks it might have a value to someone, you mean?’

‘Aye, could be. It’s possible, but I doubt it. The rest of it is boring as shit, I can tell you. Anyway, can I buy you boys a beer, before I head off to watch the game?’

Jane Francis was wondering what all the fuss was about. It had been twenty minutes since the game had begun, after a perfectly observed two minute silence in memory of Chris Brown, and as far as she could tell nothing had happened. Andy loved cricket, so perhaps he’d see the attraction, but as far as Jane could tell even less happened in this game. She was mildly surprised that it was even possible for that to be the case.

‘They’re being careful, love’ one woman onlooker had said to her, ‘after what happened the other night.’

The scrum was stationary, as it had been for some time, on the path that ran alongside Cloffocks Beck. Jane was wondering how much more she could put up with. She was starting to get hungry, and though it was dry there was a strong, chilly breeze blowing. Her hands were cold, and she felt tired.

‘Evening, boss’ said Keith Iredale.

He was pushing his bicycle, and it was a long time since Jane had seen a grown man who didn’t look ridiculous in lycra.

‘How far have you got to go?’

‘Not far, just back to Maryport. It only takes me quarter of an hour, so I don’t bother driving usually.’

‘Any sign of either of our targets?’

‘No, neither of them are here. Not at the moment, anyway. You don’t think they’ve got wind of our interest, do you?’

‘There’s no reason to think that, is there, Keith?’

‘No, boss.’

‘Don’t worry about it, then. They’ll keep until the morning. Unless you think they might do a bunk, head for some tropical island or something.’

‘What, like the Isle of Man?’

Iredale was grinning.

‘Their horizons aren’t all that wide, you mean?’ said Jane.

‘Aye, that’s about it. And you know what they say about the Isle of Man round here, don’t you?’

Jane thought about it, and shook her head.

‘If you can see the Isle of Man then it’s going to rain’ said Iredale.

‘And if you can’t then it already is?’

They both laughed.

‘So are you ever tempted to move away then, Keith? I take it you’re local.’

‘Oh aye, born and bred. I’m a right stick-in-the-mud, me. My dad was a copper here too, so I haven’t shown much imagination at all, I suppose. But I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else, and I’ve never wanted to do owt else either.’

‘I envy you.’

‘Do you? I sometimes wonder what I’m missing, like. They tell me that there’s actually a whole world out beyond Carlisle, but I’m a bit sceptical, like.’

‘So what do you do when you’re not working?’

‘I keep myself busy. I ride my bike, I run a bit. Oh, and I do a bit of climbing and walking.’

‘So which gym do you belong to?’

It took Iredale a moment to realise that Jane was joking.

‘Aye, it saves me a few quid, does living round here.’

‘So where’s a nice place for a stroll after work? Nothing too strenuous, but enough to blow the cobwebs away.’

‘Somewhere on the coast, maybe a bit north of here. Allonby, maybe. It’s a pretty village, and there’s pubs and things too. You can walk along the beach for miles, right up to Silloth if you want.’

‘That sounds perfect, thanks.’

They watched the game for a couple of minutes.

‘So there’s no Mrs. Iredale, then?’

‘No. Probably should be by now, but it’s not happened so far like.’

‘You’re still a young man. You’ve got years yet.’

‘I’ll be thirty-two next birthday. If I was a rugby player, I’d be about retired by now.’

Jane was surprised. ‘I thought you were younger.’

‘Because I’m only a DC?’

‘I didn’t mean that. I was forty last birthday, and I’m only one rank on from you.’

‘But you had a job before, didn’t you, boss?’

‘Call me Jane. You make me feel about ninety. But yes, I did. I worked in a research lab for quite a few years after university.’

‘That must have been interesting. Worthwhile too, I expect.’

‘It was. But when you’ve done a job like that for a few years you start to think a bit more about yourself, and a bit less about other people. That probably sounds very selfish.’

‘No, of course not. You did your time, I reckon. What were you were working on?’

‘Developing drugs to increase fertility.’

‘Oh aye, and did you make any progress?’

‘Me? Not so as you’d notice, Keith.’

Iredale pushed his bike backwards and forwards.