Substantial Threat

Ten

Henry was back in Blackpool within the hour, pushing the police Vectra hard and fast, braking dramatically at each roadside speed camera, crawling through at the required speed and then hitting the gas once he was beyond the white markers. It was an advantage being a cop who travelled around the whole of the county: you got to know where each and every speed trap was.

He hurried to Jane’s office, knocked and entered without waiting for a reply. She was going through some paperwork with Rik Dean.

‘Need to speak,’ Henry said briskly, noting her big smile on seeing him.

‘Okay, Rik, we’ll finish this later.’ She handed the detective a binder. He stood up and left, nodding warily to Henry as the two men passed one another. Henry closed the office door. Jane stayed seated at the desk, resting her chin on her forefinger. ‘Have you been trying to avoid me, Henry?’ she asked reproachfully.

‘Naah.’ He dismissed the notion with a wave of the hand. ‘Just dead busy.’

‘Right,’ she said, drawing out the word. ‘Okay.’ She was not satisfied but realized from the tone of his voice that the subject was going no further. . yet. ‘What do you want?’ Her voice had an icy edge to it now.

Henry sat down opposite and explained what he had actually been doing that day. Roscoe listened intently, the personal baggage stored away for the time being.

He kept the juicy news until the very last.

‘Whuh!’ she said. ‘Marty Cragg? You sure?’

He nodded. ‘I’m good at identifying dead bodies.’

‘So Marty Cragg is dead? We were just beginning to think that he and his brother, Ray, were responsible for the King’s Cross shootings, weren’t we? Are we into some turf war, or something?’

‘Could be.’ Henry squinted at the thought of it. The only thing that did not sit straight with him about this possibility was the incident at the Premier Lodge. What was all that about? And who was the unknown body? What was that connection?

‘I think it is a turf war,’ Jane said forcefully, ‘because something else has turned up which is pretty interesting — that’s why Rik was in here. The shooting incident at McDonald’s?’ Henry nodded he knew what she was talking about. ‘The two guys in the hospital are running partners with another couple of Manchester low-lifes who were found shotgun blasted in a flooded quarry just over the border. The two in hospital could have come looking for retribution. Maybe they had something to do with Marty’s death?’

‘Not them personally, because the time frame doesn’t fit. They were definitely in hospital, under guard, when Marty got whacked, but their other connections could have done Marty and the unidentified guy. We need to get close with Greater Manchester on this, I suspect.’ Henry checked his watch. ‘I need to get a move on. The PMs will start soon. How are you fixed to deliver a death message?’

Evening was fast approaching as Henry and Jane drove out to see Ray Cragg at his detached house in Poulton-le-Fylde. It was going to be a cold night and a bitter wind gusted over the incoming tide.

They rode silently, but there was a palpable and electric tension between them. Henry could tell she wanted to talk. She could tell he wanted to avoid it. Eventually she could stand it no more.

‘Are we going to discuss us?’ she blurted.

Us? Oh shit! Henry thought. ‘I’m lost for words,’ he said.

‘I’m not. Just tell me if what we did was a big mistake. If it was I’ll pull up my bloomers and get on with things. If it wasn’t a mistake, I’d like to know.’

Henry’s heart thudded noisily, his mouth went dry.

‘Er, I enjoyed it. . no regrets there,’ he said feebly.

Roscoe’s eyes burned like lasers into his temple. He really could feel their heat.

‘Right,’ she said, tearing them away and folding her arms. ‘I get the message. How many people have you bragged to that you’ve shagged me?’

‘Hey, look,’ he began to protest just as he caught sight of a car with four dark shapes on board, pulled into the kerbside. They were just a couple of turnings away from the avenue in Poulton on which Ray resided. ‘Interesting,’ he said, smoothly changing the subject. He slowed and clocked the registration number.

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Roscoe.

‘No — that car,’ he said.

She saw it too and it aroused her cop instincts. ‘Four up,’ she noted.

Moments later they were outside Ray’s house. Henry pulled his nearside wheels on to the grass verge which formed part of Ray’s front garden. Lights were on in the house, the curtains drawn.

‘Looks like a normal house,’ remarked Roscoe.

‘Mmm, not much protection evident — double bluff. C’mon, let’s see if his lordship is in.’

They were in luck. Ray himself answered the door, beer in hand, looking slovenly. Henry shoved his warrant card and badge up into his face and introduced himself and asked to come in. He stepped over the threshold.

‘Get the fuck back,’ Cragg said, holding the door. ‘If you’ve got a warrant, you can come in, otherwise we do business here. This is my family home.’

‘Ray, this is a personal matter, best dealt with inside,’ Henry cooed. ‘I promise not to go through any of your drawers, but you really should let us in.’ Henry peered past Ray’s shoulder and saw someone in the kitchen. ‘We need a heart to heart — seriously.’

Ray relented. ‘Make it quick.’

He led Henry through to the lounge. There was a huge TV in one corner, surrounded by equally huge speakers. The cartoon channel was on, that very famous canine detective Hong Kong Phooey was strutting his stuff. One person was watching TV. Henry recognized him immediately as Julian Brindle, otherwise known as Crazy or JCB. Crazy shifted uncomfortably.

‘What is it? Do I need my brief?’ Ray wanted to know.

‘You people — now why should you need a solicitor?’ Jane Roscoe said. ‘Been a bad boy?’

Crazy sat upright, a cautious expression on his face. Henry saw him swallowing repeatedly, a nervous gesture.

Ray licked his lips.

Henry found himself in a quandary. He felt an urge to do some verbal jousting with Cragg, just to get a feel for the man, to sound him out and play with him, and to get him worried. On the other hand his brother was lying on a mortuary slab with a bullet having entered and exited his brain and probably a couple of others still in there. Henry’s main concern should have been to deliver the message and deal with Ray as a grieving relative. Against all his natural instinct, Henry plumped for the latter approach. He guessed it would not be long before he was doing the former anyway — glaring at each other across an interview room table with a tape recorder between them.

‘Is your mother in?’ he asked Ray.

‘No, why?’

‘Where is she and when will she be back?’

‘Why, what’s this about? Why do you want to speak to my mum?’

‘Ray, would you like to take a seat?’ Jane said. ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news.’

Puzzled, but still wary of two cops in his house, Ray sat down and Jane Roscoe sat next to him, giving him one of her best and most professional funeral looks.

‘It’s about Marty,’ she began softly and informed him gently but fairly bluntly so that he would be under no misapprehension that his half-brother had been murdered. As she finished, there was an unworldly wail from the kitchen. Henry stepped out of the lounge and spun into the kitchen where he found Jack Burrows collapsed in a ragged heap on the wooden floor, head buried in her hands, just on the verge of hyperventilation.

The car with four dark shapes on board was still there when they drove away from Ray Cragg’s house. Henry clocked the registration number again to reinforce his memory for later checking on the Police National Computer.

Behind him Ray Cragg was being driven by Crazy, accompanied by Burrows in a BMW which had been in the garage attached to Ray’s house.

In convoy they headed to the M55.

‘How do you think he took it?’ Henry asked Jane.

‘Didn’t actually seem too concerned. More annoyed than anything, especially when he told us he didn’t want a family liaison officer attached to him.’

‘Yes, I got that impression.’

‘However, Jack Burrows was just a bit the opposite. A bit strange considering that she appears to be Ray’s bit of fluff. Unless. .’

‘Well, I didn’t know she was Ray’s girlfriend until now, because she’d denied any knowledge of the Craggs to me, but I’m pretty sure she was seeing Marty on the side.’

‘Fact or fantasy?’

‘Something I’ve unearthed.’ Henry explained the custody records and Burrows’ reaction to his questions about Marty.

‘Do you think there is anything to suggest that Ray might have killed Marty? Could he have found out about the liaison and got a teeny bit jealous?’

‘I won’t rule it out, but I think it’s unlikely.’ Henry relaxed into his driving as he joined the motorway, taking the Vectra up to a steady seventy, ensuring the car behind stayed in touch. ‘What have we got here?’ he mused. ‘Fill me in. Speculate.’

‘I’d love to fill you in,’ she responded.

‘About the job, not personally,’ he said hastily.

‘Okay.’ She marshalled her thoughts. ‘Johnny Jacques and his girlfriend, both dead. Johnny worked as a messenger boy for Ray and could have been ripping him off. Next we have three drug dealers shot to death on the same day at the King’s Cross by two masked gunmen and one getaway driver. The drug dealers are known to have been poaching on Ray’s territory. Two bodies are then found dumped in a quarry in Manchester and their two mates show up in Blackpool and order more than a double cheeseburger from McDonald’s. And finally, poor old Marty gets shot, together with a John Doe, as they say in America.’

‘And there’s also the cold case I’m investigating?’ Jane nodded. ‘Which has Jackie Burrows connections, who is sleeping with Ray and Marty, but not with Marty anymore because he’ll never get an erection again. . and Ray does not seem too upset that his brother is dead meat.’

‘But Jack Burrows is.’

‘And maybe therein lies a way in to Ray Cragg.’ He looked at Roscoe and raised his eyebrows. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘She could be a chink in Ray’s armour.’