DEAD & BURIED a gripping crime thriller full of twists (6 page)

“Just do one.”

Archer watched his mate walk away. His figure blended with the shadows for a few seconds and then he was gone.

Chapter 7

Wednesday

“Oddly quiet, don’t you think, sir?”

“It’s only eight. Most of the folk on this estate are jobless. They lie in bed all morning sleeping off the night before.”

Calladine and Rocco were sitting in the snack bar at the Hobfield community centre, drinking tea.

“Did you see Ruth?”

“I did as it happens. I took the baby out for a stroll last night so that she could get some rest.”

“Are you missing her, guv?”

“Yes, Rocco. Work isn’t the same without her, is it?”

“She’ll be back before you know it. You know what she’s like — can’t stay away from the job.”

Calladine shook his head. “Stiff competition, a baby.”

Rocco smiled. “They do a mean bacon butty here. Just listen to the sizzle coming from behind that counter. Lift anyone’s mood that.”

Calladine swallowed his tea. “No time. We’ve got to go.” Then he sniffed. The smell of frying bacon filled the room. “We might come back later, see how things go.”

“Thought you might be on a health kick after yesterday, sir.”

“So why tempt me with the prospect of bacon? I might do something with Ruth. She fancies the gym too. It’s all about finding the time.”

“You should go for it — the pair of you.”

“We’ll see. It’s not come to that yet.” But it was getting perilously close, he knew. He wasn’t carrying his fifty-one years at all well. The sum total of his exercise was walking the dog down to the common and back each evening. What was that, half a mile? Not enough to stop the rot. Perhaps when this little lot was sorted he would try the gym. Couldn’t do any harm, could it? He was due a health check anyway. He couldn’t afford any problems. His job depended on it.

They walked towards the tower blocks.

“None of this makes any sense,” Rocco said. “Why kill Emily Blackwell and why would someone like Costello target a scally like Wayne Davey?”

“Perhaps it wasn’t down to Costello,” Calladine replied.

“Then who?”

“Could be anyone. Some bloody fool making a play for the action and mistakenly thinking Davey was the rival to beat.”

A cleaner at the community centre had told them that the squat was on floor ten of Egret House, the tallest of the blocks. The detectives decided to visit the flat together — safety in numbers. Then Rocco would go and speak to Emily’s neighbours.

Calladine hauled himself up the last couple of floors. He was gasping, mouth open, chest aching. He leaned against the wall for a few minutes. His heart was pounding.

Rocco nodded. “Told you. You need to reel it in a bit.”

Calladine was bent over, his hands on his knees, still breathing heavily. “I do a bit. I’ve got the dog now, the one I’m looking after for Marilyn.”

Rocco chuckled. “Looking after! Marilyn’s banged up for the foreseeable. That dog is yours now, sir. No wriggling out of it.”

“Alright, I’ll walk him a little further. But like I said, problem is finding the time.”

“The booze, precious little exercise, you know the drill. I’m only saying because Ruth isn’t here. She’d be on you like a ton of bricks if she saw you in this state.”

“Has she been talking to you?”

“We talked last night. She didn’t like the look of you yesterday.”

So that’s how it was. No Ruth, so Rocco was his appointed conscience. Ruth Bayliss had a lot to answer for. After he’d taken the infant off her hands too. “Next time, the pair of you can tell me to my face,” he huffed.

Calladine was still panting as Rocco walked along the deck, banging on all the doors. The tenth-floor flats were mostly boarded up. They were allegedly part of the refurbishment programme, but it looked to Calladine as if the council had totally forgotten about them.

A lone voice shouted out from behind one of the doors. “Get lost!”

Calladine positioned himself outside. “Police. Kayne Archer in there?”

He heard the squeal of bolts and then the door opened an inch or two. A youth stuck his head out. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. From what they could see of him, he looked scruffy, in a stained T-shirt and ripped jeans.

Calladine smiled. “Kayne Archer or Mick Garrett.”

“They’re not here. They went out last night and didn’t come back.”

“Have you tried their phones?” Calladine asked.

“Neither of them’s answering. Weird that. Usually they’re never off the buggers.”

“Are they living here?”

The lad shrugged.

Calladine didn’t have time for this. “I can always drag you down to the station. See if that loosens your tongue.”

The boy opened the door a little wider. A gust of hot air hit Calladine in the face. The smell was unmistakable.

“What’s going on in there?” He tried to see past the boy but he moved, blocking Calladine’s view.

“Archer’s been here a week or so,” he admitted. “Mick stays sometimes but he does go home.”

“Shut the door!” bawled someone from within.

“Who else is in there?”

“There’s only me and Beanie. Wayne’s in hospital.”

“And who are you?”

“Addy — Greg Addison.”

“Well, Greg Addison, there is a distinct smell of cannabis wafting through your front door.” Calladine nodded at Rocco and the two detectives pushed their way inside.

“You’ve no right . . .” The lad’s attempt to block their way was half-hearted. He didn’t look as if he had any fight in him.

“You Beanie?” Calladine spoke to a face peering around another half-open door leading off the room.

The lad nodded. Calladine could see intense light spilling through the gap at the bottom. “What have you got in there?”

He shook his head. His eyes darted towards his friend.

“Rocco, take a look.”

Addison made as if to stop the DC but then thought better of it.

Rocco kicked the door open. The light was so bright it made them all blink. “They’re growing the stuff!” said the DC.

The plants were everywhere, in huge pots all over the floor and on shelving around the walls. The heat and the smell were overpowering.

Calladine took out his phone. This pair would be taken in. “Who are you working for?” he asked.

“Ourselves. It’s for private use,” tried Addison.

“Come off it, lad. There’s enough weed here to sort the entire town. This has taken some setting up.” Calladine followed the wiring from the heaters fixed to the ceiling to its source. “Those are plugged into the mains. You paying the bill?”

Greg Addison shook his head. “We’re taking it from the flat downstairs. It’s empty but the lecky is still on.”

Calladine’s phone rang. He was expecting it to be the nick confirming they were on the way, but it was Birch.

“This is turning out to be some morning,” she began. “A report has come in of a missing teenager. Ordinarily I’d leave it a while — he is nineteen. But his name is on the incident board. One Mick Garrett. Mean anything?”

“Yes. He’s one of Archer’s crew. What makes him missing?”

“Tearaway he might be in the daytime, but his mother likes him home nights. She rang in this morning. She’s not seen him in two days and his mobile is turned off. She can’t get hold of Archer either and thinks something is going on. Given what we know, she could be right.”

“Problem is where to look. It looks to me as if they’ve gone to ground. I’ve found where Archer’s been dossing down, Garrett too on the odd occasion, but neither are here now. I’m sending in two scallys from Egret House. They’ve been growing cannabis in an empty flat. I’ll give them the third degree later.”

“And DCI King has asked to speak to you.”

“Has she said what about?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. I’ll tell her you’ve been delayed.”

The two lads were leaning against a wall. Neither looked as if they’d seen any water or food in days. “You’ve been hard at it?” asked Calladine.

Addison shrugged. “Got to get the stuff right.”

“Who are you doing this for?”

“It’s a sort of co-op. We all get a share.”

“Archer in on this?”

“He’ll do me if I talk to you lot. He’s not like the others — he’s dangerous.”

“Where is Archer? Do you know who his contacts are? Who is he seeing about this little lot?”

“He doesn’t tell us anything. When he sells, we’ll get a cut. That’s all we’re interested in. We’ve not seen him these last couple of days.” He looked at Beanie, who nodded.

“What about Mick Garrett?”

Addison nodded again. “The same. He and Archer were dossing down in there.” He indicated another room.

“We’ll get forensics down here, see what they come up with.”

* * *

The nurse looked up briefly from her desk at a porter pushing a wheelchair. “Bed six. He needs to go to X-ray.”

The porter nodded and walked down the centre of the ward. In bed six was a man with a leg in plaster and next to him, the mark. He looked back. The nurse was on the phone, laughing.

The tall man parked the wheelchair between the two beds. Wayne Davey was half asleep.

“Wake up,” hissed the man, shaking Wayne Davey’s arm.

Davey groaned and opened his eyes.

“You’re in a bad way.” The man pulled the curtain around the bed. He gave Davey a cold grin. “That’s what you get for being a naughty boy. Shame you had to cop a bullet. It was nothing personal. It could have been any one of you. You should have been less visible.”

Davey had no idea who the man was or what he was talking about. He wanted to shout for help, but he couldn’t. The anaesthetic had made his throat dry as sandpaper.

“You and your mates are a liability. You’ve got loose tongues, the lot of you. Mr Costello can’t take any more risks.”

Davey shook his head.

Another icy smile. “That’s why you’ll have to go. It’s simply business. I stand to cop for a fortune if I get this right. If I don’t . . .” He drew a finger across his throat. “If you were in my shoes, you’d do the same.” He patted Davey’s arm. “I’ve invested too much in this already,” he whispered as if confiding. “I don’t plan on failing, and I don’t want any witnesses helping the police.”

Davey’s eyes were wild with fear. He really didn’t have a clue what the man was on about and he was too petrified to ask. He’d never even seen him before. He wanted to get up, run for his life. He tried to inch out of the bed but he was stuck there. The plaster casts on both his legs saw to that.

The man lifted the blanket. Davey noticed with a shudder that he had half a finger missing. “Not much use to you now, or anyone else for that matter. The man peered out between the curtains. There was no one around. The bloke in the next bed was sleeping and the nurse wasn’t at her desk. “I’ll make it quick,” he whispered, as if it was a kindness. “No hard feelings. Like I said, this isn’t personal.”

“No! You can’t. I’ve done nowt! What d’you want?” Suddenly Davey’d found his voice.

The man laughed.

Davey closed his eyes. “Please. I’m no threat. What can I do in this state?”

“You can talk, lad.”

He felt the weight of the pillow as the man pushed it down on his face. Wayne Davey was terrified, too weak to fight. He was gasping for air, his arms flailing about wildly as the knife slid between his ribs and into his heart.

Chapter 8

“My office!” Eliza King called out as soon as she spotted Calladine in the corridor.

“It’s mine, actually.”

She dismissed this with a wave of her hand.

He wasn’t in the mood for a row and that’s all she seemed to want. “How can I help?”

She closed the door behind them. “The Hobfield. Tell me about the place.”

“It’s deprived, forgotten, somewhere people don’t talk about. It houses most of the criminals in this town. There used to be a pub there. Great fun on a Saturday night that place was.” He chuckled. “Kept uniform in overtime for years.”

“If I wanted to find someone, where would I look?”

“You’d have to tear the place apart. They stick together. Unless you’ve got some intelligence from uniform then it would be useless.” He saw her face fall. “Why? Lost someone?”

She turned away. “Thank you, DI Calladine. You’ve been no help at all.”

She had paperwork covering most of his desk. He could see a file marked ‘Costello.’ Calladine itched to get his hands on that, find out more about what she was doing here.

“Please tell me you’ve not lost your informant?”

Her face gave nothing away.

“This has nothing to do with your team.”

“It might have. Wayne Davey was kneecapped and Mick Garrett appears to be missing — Archer too.”

Eliza King looked startled. “Someone should have told me sooner.”

“Why? Do those names mean something to you?”

“I don’t want to discuss that until I know more.”

“I suggest you keep your eyes on the incident board in that case. Everything we get will be on there.”

“Do you have any idea where Archer and Garrett have gone?”

“No. They could be dead for all we know. Those lads have upset someone. The problem is — who?”

She didn’t look happy. He was fed up with dancing around this woman’s moods. “What have those young men got to do with your investigation, DCI King?”

“You’re looking for him — Archer?”

No response.

“Why are you so interested? Is he your informant?”

“I want to speak to him. His name came up during our investigation into Costello’s recent activities.”

That could mean anything.

“Vinny Costello and Kayne Archer? Hardly, DCI King. Have you ever met Archer?”

She shook her head.

“He’s an out-of-work scally off the Hobfield. Up until half an hour ago he was growing weed in an abandoned flat in one of the tower blocks. I’ll give him some credit for being enterprising, but Costello? He’ll never even have heard of the lad.”

“Nonetheless his name came up.”

“Want to tell me more?”

“No.”

“There’ll be a briefing in the incident room later to bring the team up to date. Join us if you wish.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“We’re not exactly dossing around drinking tea ourselves.”

“When you get something positive be sure to let me know.” She held the office door open for him.

“I wish you’d tell me why you think the murder and the shootings are linked,” Calladine said as he was leaving. “It might help all of us.”

Eliza King shook her head. “I don’t know that they are.”

“Joyce will put out a report of any findings later today. Plus the PM reports will come in very soon. Anything else — just ask.” He walked out.

If Costello did mean to take over the Hobfield, he would need someone to run it. Not Kayne Archer — he wasn’t bright enough. But whoever Costello appointed might want Archer on board. Calladine shook his head. He was still convinced that Costello wasn’t be interested in the Hobfield.

* * *

Enid Mason didn’t look pleased to see DI Rockliffe.

“I’ve told you everything,” she insisted. “And I don’t like the neighbours seeing police at my door.”

He smiled at her. “Just a couple more questions.”

She moved aside for him to come in.

“Do you know where Ken Blackwell is? Have you contacted him about Emily’s death?”

“Yes, I’ve told him.”

“So you do know where he is.”

“He’s doing a ten-year stretch in Strangeways, which is why I don’t like to talk about him in front of Ricky.”

“What’s he in for?”

“Robbery — but he was carrying a gun. He’s been in and out of prison most of his adult life. The man’s a waste of space.”

“Does Ricky know?”

“Yes, of course he does, but we don’t ram it down his throat. All me and Emily wanted was for Ricky to stay this side of the law. There is so much temptation on this estate, Detective. You’ve no idea.”

He smiled. “Oh, I think I have. Have you ever heard the name Vincent Costello?”

She looked startled.

“Yes, but not recently. Anyone on this estate who’s got any sense doesn’t talk about him. He’s an evil man, Detective. Emily knew him way back, before his career in killing people got off the ground. He used to live around here. But she hadn’t seen or heard from him in years.”

“Were they close?”

“No. They were both in a group of teenagers who went around together. There was Emily, Ken, who she later married, a few others, plus Vinny and Carol.”

“You’re sure he didn’t contact her recently? Not even a phone call?”

“Not as far as I know,” she replied. “If he had, I’m sure Emily would have told me.”

“Does Ricky know that his mum knew Costello?”

“Heavens no, and neither does anyone else. Everyone who was part of that group has moved on.”

“Was Emily happy at work?”

“Yes. It wasn’t the most exciting job but it paid the bills. They are a friendly bunch and that helped.”

“Jet Holdings. Do you know who they are?”

“No, I’ve never heard of them.”

Rocco noted a slight wobble in her voice as she answered that one. “Do you know where Emily was going on Tuesday? She was dressed up, hair and make-up perfect. Was she meeting someone?”

“I honestly don’t know. If she was, she didn’t tell me.”

Rocco believed her.

“You mentioned a ‘Carol.’ Who was she?”

“I don’t remember her full name. But she doesn’t live around here anymore.”

* * *

“Guv!” Imogen called out as Calladine returned to the incident room. “The post-mortem on Emily Blackwell has turned up something important. The bullets that killed Emily and bust Davey’s legs were fired from the same gun.”

Calladine peered over Imogen’s shoulder at the computer screen. She was right. Roxy Atkins’s report was pretty clear. So there was a link between Emily and Davey — had to be. But what was it? Calladine was stumped. He couldn’t imagine what they’d have in common. But there was Emily’s son, Ricky. He knew Davey. Had he got something to do with this?

“Anyone have any ideas? A supposedly clean-living woman and the likes of Wayne Davey. Who had they both upset?”

Rocco came into the office. “I’ve got something new on the Costello angle. Enid Mason confirmed that Emily and he did know each other. When they were teenagers they went around together with some others from the estate. Ken Blackwell too. But Ken’s doing time in Strangeways. Her work was fine and I drew another blank with Jet Holdings. Although I think she was lying.”

Calladine went to the incident board and drew a line linking the two names, Emily and Costello. “Any recent contact?”

“Enid says not.”

“Should we tell DCI King?” Rocco asked.

Calladine nodded towards the closed office door. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t already know. She might let us in at some point.”

“The PM report also stated that Emily had been killed at Clough Bottom,” Imogen continued. “She’d been beaten. Her legs were broken. The pathologist said they were hit with something long and hard, like a bat. She was hit on the head, fell forward and then was shot in the back. Roxy Atkins is looking at her clothing. It might shed some light on who laid her out like that. Costello might have contacted Emily recently,” she suggested.

“For what reason? To lure her up to Clough Bottom and kill her? The fact they were pally once isn’t motive enough. Emily led a perfectly ordinary life. She wasn’t involved in drugs or crime of any sort and neither was her son. She’d be of no interest to Costello.”

“Something from the past perhaps?”

“See what you can dig up, Imogen. If you don’t get anywhere I think it’s time we spoke to the man himself. Did we request an interview with Costello?”

“I rang his assistant, Gavin Trent. Smooth and sneaky if you ask me,” Imogen told the team. “He confirmed that it was a company car and said he’d check who had booked it out. He’s promised to get back soon as.”

“Keep on his back. It’ll be interesting to see how they wriggle out of this one. Keep at it with Emily’s past. Find out about that money she was paid each month. Also dig up what you can about Ricky Blackwell. He was being bullied. Try and find out what that was all about. Is he in a gang? Is he mixed up in the drug dealing on that estate? That sort of thing. I can’t imagine that Ricky has attracted Costello’s attention but we’ll look at it to make sure.”

“That woman at the auction, sir. She’s still a bit of a mystery. The auctioneer doesn’t know anything about her. She registered to bid and gave her address as the Pennine Inn. It’s that hotel out Hopecross way, which means she’s not local. The auctioneer told me that the cottage was advertised widely. But I was there, and apart from her the only people interested were local.”

“Okay, I’ll take that. I’ll go up there and see what she has to say — if she’s still there. You saw her, Imogen. What sort of woman am I looking for?”

“Definitely upmarket. She wore good clothes. She had a slight American accent and was very attractive with shoulder-length dark hair.”

“Should be easy to spot, then.”

“She certainly drew all eyes at the auction. She even had Julian staring.”

* * *

“Calladine!” DCI Rhona Birch called as he was on his way out. “A discreet word if you’ve got a minute.”

He followed her into her office and sat down.

“Has DCI King shared anything with you?”

“No, ma’am. But she gave me the impression that things aren’t going her way. It’s nothing she’s said, just stuff she’s asked me and her reactions to the answers.”

“I’ve just had an interesting phone conversation. I’m not sure what to make of it. The caller asked for the SIO on the shooting of the boy.” She waved her hand dismissively. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s you. DCI King is officially here because of the Emily Blackwell murder.”

Except that they both knew she wasn’t.

“Plus I was unaware until a conversation with McCabe this morning that she is in fact a DI. Currently she is
acting
DCI due to Greco being on leave.” She regarded Calladine for a moment. “You got off lightly. Ordinarily it would be him you’d be dealing with. So despite her attitude, count yourself lucky.”

Calladine weighed this little nugget in his head. Eliza King or Greco. What was the job trying to do to him?

“What about this caller, ma’am?”

“A member of your team contacted a Gavin Trent. The caller suggested that you speak to her instead. She is one of Costello’s people. But she was a little vague as to her exact role.”

“Does she want me to ring her?”

“No, that’s the thing that bothers me. She’s here in Leesworth. She has been for a day or two. We can’t dismiss the fact that all the problems we’ve had started with her arrival.”

“A woman, you say, and on Costello’s payroll. It is possible. But it’s still the same old question — why? What does Costello want? What excuse does she have for being here?”

“She intends to discuss that with you. Mr Trent has asked her to speak candidly about the limo on the Hobfield yesterday.”

“Did she give her name?”

“Tanya Mallon. Mean anything to you?”

“A Mrs Mallon was at the auction of Clough Cottage yesterday. It’s probably the same woman. Is she coming in?”

“No. She has suggested you meet for lunch at the Pennine Inn. She’s staying there. I said you would be willing to listen to what she has to say. Did I do right?”

Calladine nodded. “I was just about to go and speak to her. I’m presuming she viewed the cottage prior to the auction, in which case she might have seen something.”

“Tread carefully. Find out what she’s doing here but don’t antagonise her. Tanya Mallon is on Costello’s payroll and the man’s a killer. Be pleasant and listen to her. Weigh up what she has to say and report back. But keep this to yourself for now.”

“We’re not sharing this information with DCI King?”

“Does she share anything with us?”

“Fair comment.”

“We don’t want her getting overexcited, do we?”