‘Fuck you.’
‘Greg was trying to please you. He felt like he owed you something. Stupid, really. He owed you nothing.’
‘He owed me everything, PI.’
I shook my head. We’d been through this before. I didn’t want to hear him trying to justify his actions again.
Major laughed. ‘You’ll be telling me you believe in Father Christmas next.’
‘Have you spoken to his parents?’ I said to him.
‘Why would I?’
‘Because you’re supposed to be a friend of the family. They’re in pieces and you’ve done nothing.’
Major shrugged. ‘What could I do?’
I stepped away from him, so I didn’t lose my temper and hit him. He just didn’t care that they’d lost their son. He didn’t feel it like I did. My thinking was interrupted by another vehicle approaching us. It stopped and Max Fitzjohn got out. I nodded a greeting to him. It was coming together.
‘I want my money’ he said, looking at each of us in turn. He stood, legs slightly apart, bolt upright. Trying to show us who was in charge.
‘I haven’t got it’ I said.
He pointed at me. ‘This is a joke, right? You dragged me all the way out here at this time to tell me you haven’t got it? Didn’t you hear me before?’
‘I’ve never had your money.’
He looked at Major and Bilton. ‘Who’s got it, then?’
‘I’ve no idea’ I said.
Everyone tensed. Fitzjohn was clearly struggling to control his temper. He started to pace up and down. Short strides. The last car I was waiting for swept into the car park. I’d told people they had to wait until everyone was here. The car parked and the door opened, stopping Fitzjohn in his tracks. Then he lost his temper completely.
‘What the fuck is going on?
DI Robinson walked up to join us. ‘This is a surprise. How pleasant to see you all in one place.’
I nodded to Don, who’d stepped out of the passenger seat. Robinson introduced himself and showed Fitzjohn his ID. ‘Humberside Police.’
Fitzjohn said nothing.
It was now or never. Everyone was here. I spoke.
‘I was wrong’ I said, getting Robinson’s attention. ‘Priestley didn’t kill Greg Tasker.’ He had no reason to. The reunion was purely business to him. I was staking my reputation on it. I had to accept he didn’t have an alibi, he was a night walker, but I just couldn’t buy into him being a killer. It didn’t sit right with me. If I wasn’t allowed the courage of my convictions, I was in the wrong job. All he was guilty of was trying to do his best for the band.
‘Interesting, Mr Geraghty, but let’s stop this messing about, shall we?’ Robinson said. ‘I’m sure we’re all aware Priestley didn’t do it.’
‘Major’s jealous of him’ I continued. ‘He doesn’t like the fact Greg and Steve were the real talent in New Holland. In fact, I’d say he tried to set Steve up for a fall by selling stories to newspapers. Anything for some easy money.’
‘You’re having a fucking laugh, PI’ Major said. ‘Have you any idea how stupid you sound? Bringing us all out here to listen to this shit? This isn’t an episode of Scooby Doo. I didn’t kill him, alright?’
‘And nor did Jason Harrison’ I said to him. ‘You might have caused him a lot of pain, but he’s not a killer. In fact, he’s twice the man you are.’
Major sneered. ‘The man must be a fucking idiot.’
‘I’d got it wrong by looking at him. He’d done nothing wrong.’
‘This is all very touching, PI’ Major said, ‘but I’ve got more important things to be doing.’
‘Stay there, Mr Major.’ He turned to Fitzjohn. ‘You, however, are going to leave my city. You’re only minutes from the road out of Hull: I suggest you use it.’
‘I want my money’ Fitzjohn said. He pointed at Major. ‘And he owes me.’
‘Face facts, Mr Fitzjohn. You’re not getting your money. Frankly, you’re lucky I’m allowing you to leave my city of your own free will. I don’t care who you think you are, I’d take you down as quick as look at you.’ He stepped towards him. ‘I won’t tell you again.’
For a moment, I thought things were going to spiral out of control. Fitzjohn took a step and met Robinson half way before seeing sense and relenting. There was probably thirty years between them, but Robinson was a tough old bastard. I’d give him that.
‘This isn’t over’ Fitzjohn said. ‘I want what I’m owed.’
‘Do yourself a favour. Give it up and leave whilst you still can.’
We all watched as Fitzjohn walked back to his car. He got in the back and it pulled away. I nodded to Robinson. One problem sorted.
Major looked genuinely shocked by what was going on. Whether or not it got him off the financial hook, I didn’t know or care. He’d have to sort it out for himself when he went back to London. Fun though it was to watch him squirm, I told him I knew he hadn’t killed Tasker, either. I told him I knew why we’d broken into Greg’s flat. He wanted whatever he could get his hands on, but most importantly, he wanted the CD of songs Greg had demoed. I told him I had a copy. I didn’t tell him I’d posted a copy to Sarah, just in case anything happened to me. She’d understand; I wasn’t having Major deciding what to do with recordings Greg had left behind.
‘If you so much as think about cashing in on them, I’ll leak them on the Internet’ I said. ‘I’ll make sure you don’t make a penny off them.’ It wasn’t much of a threat, but I hoped it’d make him think twice. I told him to make his own way back to the city centre. I wasn’t interested in helping him any further. I was finished with him. If I ever saw him again, it’d be too soon.
Robinson spoke. ‘Which leaves us with you, doesn’t it, Mr Bilton?’
He laughed. ‘You think I killed Greg Tasker?’ he said.
‘You or your brother’ I said. I took him through it. I told him how he’d wanted my help when he thought I could get Fitzjohn off his back. Once he’d realised I was more interested in Greg Tasker, the shutters had come down. They’d tried to play me, asking for my help. His brother had told me he was skint, yet days after Tasker’s death, I’d seen a new plasma screen television in his flat. Just after Greg had disappeared with several days takings from the boutique in his pocket. Money that wasn’t in his pocket after he was killed.
‘Bullshit’ Bilton said. He looked at Robinson. ‘Even people like you need proof these days. You can’t believe this shit, surely?’ He started to walk away.
Robinson blocked his way. ‘Mr Geraghty hasn’t finished yet’ he said.
‘The night you killed Greg, somebody saw you’ I said. ‘They made a statement to the police, but then sold their story to the newspapers. You didn’t like someone being so close to the truth, you panicked that you’d been seen, so you tried to frighten him into keeping his mouth shut, handed out a good kicking.’ I thought back to Rusting’s eagerness to make some money. Robinson had told me he’d make sure Rusting would get any protection he needed. But there was always a price to pay. ‘The mistake you made was doing it yourself. If you’d been a bit more professional about it, maybe sent the boys around with an envelope full of money, you might have bought the man’s silence. He probably wouldn’t have spoken to me.’
‘He won’t make a statement’ Bilton said.
I looked to Robinson.
He produced a sheet of paper. ‘Already has, Mr Bilton. Looks like your long run of luck has come to an end.’
Betty Page would be pleased. She’d given me the photograph from which Rusting had identified Bilton.
‘You think I killed Tasker?’ Bilton laughed. ‘You’ve got no idea, have you?’
I knew what he was talking about. ‘Gary was with you, wasn’t he?’
‘He’s my fucking brother. He’s always with me. Blood’s thicker than water.’
‘Why?’
‘Why, what?’
‘Why was he with you?’
‘To earn some coin. Why else? Easy work and he needed the money, so I took care of him.’
‘Took care of him?’
‘Fuck off, Geraghty.’
‘Who threw the punch?’ I asked.
Bilton laughed. ‘Like I’d fucking tell you.’
‘Forensics will sort it out’ Robinson said.
I hoped so. The brothers were both guilty in my eyes, though I felt sorry that Gary Bilton wouldn’t be continuing his work on the estate. He’d be missed. It was weird, but it made some sort of sense.
Don was still stood with us, saying nothing. Julia said she’d go and wait for me in the car. I smiled, tried to convey that I understood what she was feeling. I waited for her to go. For better or worse, but hopefully for better, this was the end of a chapter in her life. It was never going to work out between us, but I wasn’t sure that was what either of us had really wanted. Or needed. Maybe the work situation and Gary Bilton’s appearance in the investigation had been a convenient excuse to put the brakes on. It’d helped clarify my thinking. It was time to make an effort and move on. But it didn’t mean I had to necessarily forget about the past. They could co-exist without rubbing up against each other. There was a middle ground to be found and I was getting a clearer picture of what it should involve.
I turned to Don. ‘Thanks for that’ I said.
He nodded. ‘You called it right, Joe. I’ll give you that.’
‘Still needed your help.’
‘You know the price for it.’
That was true. I’d laid it out carefully to Don the previous night, so he could talk to Robinson with confidence. It had to be handled so I could get Fitzjohn chased out of the city at the same time. It needed finishing in one swoop. No loose ends. I was counting on Fitzjohn weighing the odds up and deciding it was best to lose some face. He might be leaving empty-handed, but he wouldn’t want to be arrested. This way, he could disappear back to London and spin whatever story he wished to whoever was interested. The wider investigation would continue as before.
I’d explained to Don I wanted Major to leave empty-handed. It was the only way to finish it properly. Major was being chased for a debt and he’d pointed the finger at Trevor Bilton via Tasker. He’d gone for the easy target. Major had acted out of nothing but selfishness, thinking he could hide behind his reputation, so there was no way he was having exclusive access to the unreleased CD. No chance. There wasn’t much I could do for Greg’s parents, especially as I’d made the decision not to tell them about their grandson, Jay, but I could help them control their son’s legacy in a way they were comfortable with. I was grateful Don had been able to persuade Robinson to handle it my way.
‘My price, Joe. Remember?’ Don repeated.
We looked each other in the eye. I nodded. ‘I know.’
I held my hand out for him to shake. He took it. I’d promised I wouldn’t involve Sarah in any more of my cases. Things had gone too far and that was my cross to bear. Our partnership was over. I understood that. Times were changing. I said goodbye and started walking towards my car. Julia sat in the passenger seat, waiting for me. She was blowing her nose into a handkerchief. This wasn’t what she’d come back to Hull for. We hadn’t spoken directly about it, but we didn’t need to. I promised I’d take her to the train station once we were done. I looked at my watch. It was still early, but I was willing to bet my brother was up and about. I smiled to myself. Maybe I’d drop in on him when I was done. He’d know what I should do next.
You need more. You don’t know how to get it, but your fire for music is returning. Your fire for life is returning. You’ve made a lot of mistakes. You’ve denied your son. You need to make amends. You demo countless new songs. Kane calls you. He thinks the time is right for a New Holland comeback. You’re not sure how to react. You can see the possibilities, but you’re not sure. You’re back on an even keel. Sort of. You know what you want now. You have the strength. What’s bothering you is what’s always bothered you. Priestley. Kane tells you that things have changed. Time has passed. Time is a great healer. It’s a fresh start. You’re still concerned. But you want your band back. You all meet in an anonymous rehearsal room. It’s awkward, but you’ve taken the first step. You and Priestley circle each other warily. You rehearse. You both agree to give it a go. You try not to argue. You try not to pick at old sores, but you need to assert your authority. You can’t help yourself. You know what you’re like. You talk to a journalist you used to know about the reunion. You know it might all fall apart as easily as it came together, but you don’t tell her that. You’re still wary of Priestley, but you don’t tell her that. You don’t trust yourself, but you don’t tell her that. You take a deep breath. You have to do this. You can do this. You smile to yourself.
A new start.
Afterword
The story of New Holland is entirely fictitious. However, I have friends who played in bands and without that inspiration and example, I wouldn’t be writing books - Paul, Dave, Ian and Aidy (Lithium Joe), Mac, Micha, Russell, Matt and Kirstie (Scarper!). Happy days, though I still can’t play a single note on any instrument...