Find Them Dead

70 Friday 17 May

In a small interview room in the cell corridor under the courts in Lewes’ Crown Court building, Nick Fox looked at his client. This was the first time the two men had been alone without Primrose Brown or her junior present since Stuie’s death.

Terence Gready sat opposite him, hunched and with a worried expression, looking small and vulnerable. Fox thought he already looked like a crushed man. Except, of course, as Fox well knew, the man was a consummate actor and even more consummate manipulator.

‘What the fuck went wrong with Stuie? I told you to have him roughed up a bit, not to kill him. You’ve lost the one hold we have over Starr, our best bargaining chip.’

‘We can’t turn the clock back now, Terry, what’s done is done. Let’s focus on the trial.’

‘How do you think it’s going then, Nick?’

Both men kept their voices low, aware of the watchful eye of an officer standing a short distance away.

‘So far, Terry, if you want my honest opinion, you’re the filling in a triple-shit sandwich.’ He smiled. ‘But all we’ve been hearing so far is the prosecution. Cork’s good — but so is Primrose. Once she gets going it’s all going to swing your way — trust me. And, we have our Plan B!’

Both men smiled. Then Gready said, ‘You are confident in Plan B?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The dapper, unflappable Nick Fox smiled, then frowned. ‘But we have a potential fly in the ointment we need to sort.’

‘Who or what?’

‘Michael Starr.’

‘Mickey? Why do you say that, I trust him — despite him pleading guilty to get a softer sentence — I understood his reasons for doing that, his responsibility for his brother, Stuie. Fair play to him.’

Fox shook his head. ‘Not any more.’

Gready suddenly adjusted his position and sat more upright, leaning forward. ‘What do you mean?’

His solicitor tapped the side of his own head. ‘It may just be the rumour mill, Terry, but I don’t think so. As a result of what happened to his brother, I’ve heard from a good source that Starr, through another solicitor — obviously — is exploring what kind of a deal he could cut for grassing you up.’

In all the years Fox had worked for Terence Gready, he could never remember seeing the man angry — until now. Gready always took everything calmly, in his stride. But now he looked like the Devil himself was inside his head. ‘Grassing me up?’

‘That’s what I’ve heard.’

‘He’s exploring what kind of a deal he could get by doing that?’

‘Yes, Terry.’

‘I just can’t believe he’d do this.’

‘When people are desperate, they do things differently. He’s a very hurt and angry man because of Stuie.’

Gready sat in silence for some while, thinking. Lucky Mickey had the ability to sink him. If he started giving evidence for the prosecution it was going to take more than the current tampering with the jurors, it was going to take a miracle. ‘Mickey doted on his brother. Has he forgotten how much I’ve helped him over the years? Everything I paid for? Now he’s looking to make a deal by grassing me up? What happened to loyalty, Nick?’

‘They say that when a Black Mamba bites you on the end of your dick, you find out who your true friends are.’

Gready, absorbed in his thoughts, didn’t react. ‘I can’t believe Mickey could do this.’

‘Well, you’d better, and you’re going to have to move fast if you want to stop him. The way the prosecution case is going, they’ll finish next week so they’ll have to call him then.’

‘Witness for the prosecution? Fuck, he’s one of our key defence witnesses.’

‘Maybe not any more.’

Gready was thinking hard. ‘Just let him try. I’ll tear his other sodding arm off and fuck his other eye up, and the only job he’ll ever be fit for again after I’m done with him will be as a fucking paperweight.’

Fox stared across the little divide at him, expressionless.

‘Loyalty, right?’ Gready said, bitterly.

‘It is what it is.’

‘I hate that expression.’ Gready was silent for some moments then said, ‘No. I’m not having this. This isn’t what it is at all.’

Fox nodded.

Gready was perking up. ‘I’ve thought of a way we can get to him. Mickey needs to be given a reality check.’

‘What kind of reality check?’

Looking around cautiously before he spoke, Gready replied, ‘A permanent fix. Know what I’m saying?’

Fox nodded. ‘I know what you’re saying, Terry, but are you sure? It’s one thing threatening Mickey, but this is taking it to another level. I’m not sure I want to be involved.’

‘We all have to do things we don’t like sometimes.’ Gready stared at him. ‘That’s what I pay you for. Nothing’s easy, Nick, if it was, I wouldn’t need you. My wife and my kids are up in the public gallery watching every day. They’re expecting to see me acquitted because they know I’m an honest man. And that’s what you’re going to deliver. Is that clear enough?’

Nick Fox shrugged then smiled. ‘The King of the Jungle’s always delivered, Terry, you know it. I just don’t think this is a clever thing.’

Gready looked at him. ‘Perhaps the King of the Jungle’s going soft in his old age? Or perhaps the King of the Jungle is just too plain warm and cuddly? Maybe I need a wolf instead?’ His voice was hardening as he spoke and Fox frowned, uncomfortably.

‘Just remember this, Nick,’ Gready said. ‘A lion may be the king of the jungle, but a wolf doesn’t perform in a circus.’