Consequences (31 page)

‘Larry just rang. He wants to talk.’

‘If he’s still driving that mobile home in Yorkshire, he’ll be lucky if he’s not picked up by us before he gets to meet up with you.’

‘Put a call out-to the force for officers to keep their eyes peeled for him, and get us an urgent visiting order for Malcolm Reynolds, will you? I think it’s about time we see what happens when we tell him about Larry and Liz.’

The previous day’s court appearance seemed a long time ago as Dylan launched himself into looking at the outstanding actions on his murder enquiries, but he couldn’t get Larry, his letter, or the call - out of his mind. To Dylan’s surprise, John told him Malcolm Reynolds had been moved to an open prison, and the level of security of that prison now concerned him.

‘He’s done well boss, getting that move so soon, hasn’t he?’ John said.

‘Yeah, but to be fair to him, I suppose he’s a non-violent prisoner who’s done a good proportion of his time, with good behaviour. It’s got to be expected at some point. I wonder if he’ll be nipping out on day trips and to the local pub at night.’ Dylan said.

‘Most of ‘em do, don’t they? Then end up back on high security again because of the drink. They never learn.’

The surroundings of the open prison were pleasant in comparison with the high security incarceration. Dylan and John strolled into the almost empty visitor’s centre at HM Prison Wealstun where food and drink could be purchased from the refreshment counter. Malcolm Reynolds was sitting at a table, two prison officers on hand. Dylan thought he looked a lot fitter, cleaner, and he hoped more amiable than the last time they’d seen him. He got up to greet them and shook them by the hand. The saying ‘the calm before the storm’ came to the forefront of Dylan’s mind.

‘have you got news?’ Malcolm asked.

‘Not a lot,’ said Dylan. Malcolm’s shoulders visibly dropped.

‘We’re still trying to piece together what happened. How well do you know a Detective Sergeant Banks, Malcolm?’ Dylan asked. He noticed Malcolm’s eyes flash with recognition.

‘What the hell as that got to do with the murder of my wife?

‘How well do you think Liz knew him, Malcolm?’

‘What? Where are you going with this?’ Malcolm’s eyes glazed over.

‘We know that the night before Liz was murdered he spent the night with her at your house,’ said Dylan.

‘No way. Why’s he saying that?’ he asked John. ‘Where is Banks?’

‘He isn’t. We are. His DNA has been lifted from the bed sheets and his prints were found at the house,’ Dylan said.

‘The bitch. That bent bastard. Did he kill her? Was it him?’ Malcolm raged.

‘Calm down. I’m being straight with you, no matter how much I know the truth will hurt.’

‘What? Why would I want to hear one of your guys was shagging my missus? If it’s true, it’s a good job she is dead...I’d have killed her myself when I found out, and she knew it.’

‘You still haven’t answered me, do you know Larry Banks?’ Dylan probed.

‘Yeah, Larry was a bent copper. Didn’t you know that?’

 Dylan tried to hide his shock at hearing the revelation spoken out loud, or was it just that he didn’t want to hear the truth.

‘Why’re you saying that? Because of what I’ve just told you about him and Liz?’ Dylan said.

‘Look, do you think I care a flying fuck whether you believe me or not? Think what the hell you like, but mark my words, he’s a fucking dead man.’

‘He’s not here. We’re trying to find him; he’s wanted with Interpol. Do you know where he is?’

‘Whoa. Why would I know where he is? I hope you catch the bastard. Bring him in here to see me when you do.’ Malcolm roared.

Dylan ignored his outburst. ‘So, how does he know Liz?’

‘He did me a favour a few years ago...then...I was arrested.’

‘Look, cards on the table apart from what we have said about Larry we can put Frankie Miller in St Peter’s Park; around the time of Liz’s death. He’s been identified driving away from the scene of an accident in the area around the same time. A balaclava was recovered in St Peter’s Park; that’s where we’ve got his DNA from and we’ve found traces of petrol on it. We can show that he telephoned Liz at your home and he had her photo at his flat. Someone poisoned your koi carp. He knew your address.’

 ‘The bastard...the absolute bastard. All the time he was celled up with me he was just gathering information. He knew I collected rare koi’ Malcolm paused, shaking his head. ’Boy, did he groom me. How naïve was I? The stupid bloody crack head. Hang on though . Why would he kill her if he’d got the money off of her? He’d no need to murder her had he? She didn’t know him, and if he was wearing a balaclava like you say.’ Malcolm stopped to think. ’I knew once he got out of prison he had to get his hand on cash. They’d given him time . . .’

‘Who had?’ asked John.

‘Hey, I didn’t ask any questions. Some drug cartel I reckon...but because of how prolific a robber he was, the boys gave him time to raise the money when he got out, that’s all I know.’

‘The boys?’ asked Dylan.

‘Don’t even go there. So, where’s the money? Where’s the bloody half a million if Frankie didn’t have it?’ Malcolm was sweating: his face was red and contorted in anger.

‘The money wasn’t in the case at the scene. It looks like remnants of books had been inside when it was set alight...forensics is trying to find out more for us.’

‘Books? Liz doesn’t do books. She does magazines with pictures. What are you telling me, you think she gave Larry the money?’

John looked at Dylan.

‘That’s what you’re telling me isn’t it? Larry caused her death didn’t he? He’s a dead man walking. I’m telling you now I’m gonna take his bloody head off.’ Malcolm paced the visitor’s centre’s floor.

‘Slow down Malcolm. We don’t know that, but when we’ve got all the facts I promise we’ll come and tell you in person, then you’ve got it from the man in charge and you can be sure it’s right. Don’t be making idle threats.’

‘They’re not idle threats mate, believe me...’

‘I’m going to ask you one last time before we leave, have you told us everything, Malcolm?’ said Dylan.

‘What else can I tell you?’ Malcolm was overcome with helplessness, or so it seemed.

‘We know Larry Banks came to see you in prison. What was that about?’ asked John.

‘I’ve ’eard enough,’ Malcolm said, slamming his hands on his thighs. He stood up and walked to the door, where he waited in silence to be let back into his wing by the prison officers.

‘Do you get the impression he is holding back?’ John asked Dylan en route to the station.

‘I don’t warm to the man that’s for sure, but then again, look at Larry Banks; a drinker, a womaniser who’s had some close shaves over the years with angry husbands, but a thief? A murderer? Someone who did Reynolds a favour when he was on my team? Who knows? We’ll just have to see what the evidence tells us now. Only then will we get the truth, I suspect.’

Jen couldn’t settle: the lump was still there, when she showered, when she lay down, when she stood up. On impulse she picked up the phone and rang the doctor’s surgery.

‘No, it’s not urgent,’ she told the receptionist. ‘I found a lump in my breast, but I’m not ill,’ she explained.

‘I can get you an appointment today Miss Jones,’ she said, without delay. ‘Would half past four be okay?’

Back at the station, Tracy stopped Dylan as he walked into the CID office.

‘Millgarth Police Station has just had a call from Screen Yorkshire. A mobile home hired by Larry Banks has been abandoned in front of their studios at 42, The Calls, Leeds, LS2 7EY,’ she read from her pad.

‘Leeds? Bloody hell, so he’s back. Wonder where? Vicky, John, can you get over there and take Senior SOCO with you? The van will need searching and we’ll need forensics to examine it. We might get CCTV from the surrounding area if we’re lucky. Tracy, once Vicky and John get a statement from the hire company about the mileage that was on it when it left them and any further information they may have that might help us with our enquiries. Can you also get Leeds police to watch for him...and get someone to watch his flat, Lisa. That cheeky bastard has enough gall to go back there. Keep me updated everybody. I’ll get him circulated over the radio across the force area, again.’

Vicky looked crestfallen as she reached for her radio.

‘What’s up mate?’ Dylan asked.

‘I thought I was in for a trip to the South of France, not bloody Leeds.’ She groaned. ‘Story of my chuffing life; don’t you know I need some sun,’ she said.

Dylan grinned. ‘Look on the positive side. You’ll get some smashing pie and peas from the van in the car park next to Kirkgate Market for your tea; better than frog’s legs any day.’

Dylan’s phone rang.

‘Hi love. How lovely to hear your voice,’ he said.

‘Do you know what time you’ll be home tonight?’ Jen asked.

‘No, why?’ Dylan’s brows furrowed.

‘Oh, I’ve just got a doctor’s appointment that’s all.’

‘You didn’t say. You okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be home before you, but I was just letting you know in case by any stretch of the imagination, you got home before me,’ she said sarcastically.

 ‘Point taken. It’s manic here. The mobile home Larry went off in has turned up,’ he said. ‘Looks as if he’s back...so it may be a late one.’

‘Oh, you better go then. I won’t keep you. Love you.’ Jen said as she replaced the receiver and started planning a nice supper for Jack, to try and take her mind off her doctor’s appointment. ’Sirloin,’ she said out loud. Max licked her hand and then paced in circles, before finally resting at her feet.

Feedback about Larry started to come in quick and fast, from all directions. The mobile home appeared to have been carefully cleaned before he dumped it. He was told there was a strong smell of bleach in the van, but there was nothing inside it to cause concern. This was more like it. Dylan would have expected Larry to clean up after himself.

Tracy rang Dylan, ‘Sir, I’ve got the mileage for you from when it left. I’ve told them we need to examine it, so they wouldn’t be able to have it back yet.’

‘Thank you. Can you tell them we’re searching it now, so we’ll get it back to them ASAP.’

‘Yes sir.’

Dylan ran his hands through his hair and checked his watch, waiting for news. A million thoughts raced around his head. Was Larry trying to make it easy for them? Or was he still scheming? Could he trust him when they caught up with him?

Dylan’s mobile rang, ‘unknown number.’

‘I’ve got people hovering outside my flat. I’m near the electric sub- station in the car park of the Riverside apartments. Send two of your team over. They don’t need to kick in my door. I’m ready to come in.’ Larry hung up. Dylan quickly made calls to arrange for officers outside the flat to stay there. He diverted John and Vicky to Larry’s flat to arrest him. Was he sober? He sounded like he was at least lucid.

Dylan texted Jen, ‘Will be home much later than intended tonight love, sorry x’

An hour later, John and Vicky were back.

‘Larry Banks is in the cells. Arrested on suspicion of murder. His brief, Mrs Linda Perfect, has been requested,’ panted Vicky, her face red and glowing as she collapsed in a chair in Dylan’s office.

‘How is he?’ asked Dylan.

‘Quiet but he seems okay,’ John told him. His eyes were bright and dancing.

‘Sober?’

‘Yeah, he is boss. His face is bloated from continual drinking and his eyelids are hooded over bloodshot eyes, but he doesn’t seem unduly concerned about being locked up… His flat’s being searched but as far as we can see there is no luggage. He was obviously anticipating his arrest.’

‘Yeah, well he knows the system better than most and he’s going to use handing himself in, to his advantage, isn’t he?’ said Dylan.

‘Boss, I hate to ask, but it’s my youngster’s birthday today and although I’d love to get stuck into the interview, is there any chance I can get a flyer?’

‘John, I’m glad you asked. If I’d have found out you’d missed tucking your little ’un up on his birthday for the sake of a prisoner, I’d have been annoyed.’

‘Thanks boss.’

‘I’d love to interview him but if I don’t make it home at some point before my son goes to bed, my missus will have my guts for garters,’ he laughed.

‘Vicky, what you doing tonight gal?’

‘I’m all yours,’ she said suggestively.

‘Fancy interviewing a murder suspect with me, since you didn’t get to go to France?’

‘Don’t I just,’ she beamed.

‘Just don’t tell me Larry Banks intimidates you?’

‘Me? You must be bloody joking. You know me better than that. No man intimidates me,’ she said, grinning.

‘I thought you might say that,’ Dylan winked. ‘Come on girl; let’s get our interview strategy sorted. You wanna be the good guy or the bad?’ he teased.

‘Definitely the bad,’ she said laughing, as John left them to it.

Right on time, Jen pushed the heavy fire door open into the light and sparse vestibule of the doctor’s surgery. She peered into the vacant receptionist office and waited patiently. Time seemed to stand still. ’Why am I wasting the doctor’s time when I’m fit and healthy,’ she thought sitting down uncomfortably close to infected people, who were coughing and spluttering in the waiting area. Posters adorned every wall: informative and something to look at whilst you wait? ‘More like overwhelming, hyper stimulation, confusion inducing overload,’ she thought.

A bell rang, her name was called, and the doctor took no time at all to examine her.

‘I don’t think there is anything sinister there to worry about, but just to be on the safe side, I’ll get my secretary to contact the hospital and we’ll arrange for you to see a specialist. It’ll give you peace of mind.’

Jen waited whilst the doctor’s secretary rang the hospital.

‘Tomorrow morning, okay?’ she said, looking up at Jen.

Wide-eyed Jen nodded her approval.

‘Thank you,’ she said blindly, as she stumbled out of the surgery, an appointment for the Breast Clinic in her hand.