Broken Dreams (19 page)

‘I warned you, don’t bullshit me.’ I could feel the anger rising again. ‘I was dragged out of Hull to a field with a freshly dug grave and told quite clearly to mind my own business.’ I was specifically told you and your wife were off-limits and I want to know why.’

‘I’ve no idea. She owed them some money, that’s all.’

‘I don’t think so.’  I leant forward. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I was shitting myself. These aren’t people you mess with. Do you know about Frank Salford?’ I asked, but didn’t give him time to answer. ‘His speciality is to bury alive those who cross him.’

Murdoch was silent. I took another big slug of bourbon. ‘Johnson is his right hand man, and if anything, he’s even more violent. These kind of people don’t play games. If they’re warning me off, they’ve got good reason to.’

‘I don’t know what my wife was involved in’ he whispered.

‘I don’t believe you. Jane said you’ve been acting strangely at work. I was on a roll and I wasn’t letting him off the hook.

‘I’ve just lost my wife.’

‘Before then. She said you weren’t acting normally; disappearing all the time and not telling anyone where you were going.’ I poured another drink. ‘What changed?’

‘It’s a stressful job. I have a lot of responsibilities to a lot of different people. You wouldn’t understand.’

I laughed. ‘Try me.’

Murdoch shook his head. ‘It’s nothing really, the normal stresses of the job, that’s all.’

I nodded, but I didn’t believe him. I pressed on. ‘You like the massage parlours, don’t you.’

‘What?’

‘Massage parlours, paying women for sex. That’s your kind of thing, isn’t it?’

Murdoch laughed and put his glass down. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I saw you.’

Murdoch looked crestfallen. ‘It’s just a massage. What’s wrong with that?’

‘Massage?’

‘It’s all perfectly above board.’

‘I said don’t fuck me about.’

Murdoch drained his glass and laughed. ‘So what? I like to have sex. It’s hardly a crime, is it?’

It wasn’t a crime, but I knew the city had countless massage parlours, and he’d chosen Frank Salford’s place. He still wasn’t telling me the whole truth. I passed him the Jack Daniel’s back and told him to get out of my flat. I’d had enough of the man. ‘I don’t act for you anymore.’

I
hadn’t slept well after Murdoch had left my flat. I’d eventually given up and sat in the front room with a pot of coffee and a book. As usual, I’d started to fall sleep just as it was time for my alarm to go off. Arriving at the office early, I threw the newspaper onto my desk and sat down to catch up on the police’s progress in finding Jennifer Murdoch’s killer. The lead story amounted to little more than a thinly disguised attack on her husband, but I wasn’t too bothered. There was little which was new.

I said hello to Sarah when she arrived and busied myself on my computer. I could hear her making coffee and contemplated what I should do.

She passed me my mug and smiled. ‘Get home okay last night?’

‘Murdoch was waiting for me on my doorstep.’

‘Really?’

‘Said he’d been away for a couple of days, needed to get his head sorted.’

‘Doesn’t look good though, does it?’

‘Not really.’

Don arrived, poured himself a drink and joined us. I told him about Murdoch’s visit.

‘I don’t think we’re acting for him now’ I explained. ‘He’s still holding back on me. He’s still claiming he knows nothing about Frank Salford.’

‘If he won’t co-operate with us, it’s pointless’ said Don. ‘We can’t help him. It’s as simple as that.’

Don had never been keen on me taking the case, but he could have tried to hide his glee a little better.

‘I’ll send him his money back’ I said.

‘Don’t be sending it all back, though. We’ve spent legitimate time on him.’ He passed me the electricity bill which had arrived in the morning’s post.

I nodded. ‘Right.’

The phone rang and Sarah gave us the thumbs up. I watched her start to take the caller’s details down.  Don leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘Sarah told me about Lisa Day.’

I shrugged. ‘Wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t to know we were being taken for a ride.’

‘I think she’s embarrassed.’

‘I’ve already told her she shouldn’t be. It’s helped us get closer to the truth, which is what we all want. Did she tell you about Donna’s brother?’

Don nodded. ‘Terrible business.’

I looked at my watch. It was time to see Maria Platt.

Sarah offered to put the kettle on. I knew she was still embarrassed over what had happened in Whitby, but mentioning it would only make things worse. Maria Platt sat in front of me, close to her fireplace. She was pale and still in her dressing gown. She looked worse than the last time I’d seen her.

‘I assume you know why we’re here’ I said, once Sarah returned to the room.

Maria Platt nodded. ‘My brother told me.’

Derek Jones had beaten me there. His nephew was on the agenda, so I ran with it. ‘Why didn’t you tell us about Jimmy?’ I asked.

‘I was ashamed’ she eventually replied. ‘My son was a junkie and he died. I don’t like talking to people about it.’

I got the message and let Sarah continue with the questions.

‘We know it’s difficult for you’ Sarah said. ‘But we need to talk about it. The death of her brother must have hit her hard.’

‘It did hit her hard. Jimmy was her hero; she’d follow him around everywhere, even though there was a few years between them. He loved looking after her, too. He was great with his brother and sister.’

‘But then Jimmy got into drugs?’

‘It changed him. The Jimmy I knew died the first time he took that muck. We tried to help, we really did. We even locked him in a bedroom and stood guard over him in an attempt to get him to kick the stuff. It didn’t work, though. He got out through a window. There was nothing we could do. He didn’t want to help himself.’

‘How did your husband react?’ I asked her.

‘Ron was angry, like I was’ she said. ‘But he was our son. We loved him and tried to help him best we could, but it wasn’t easy.’

‘I assume it scarred you both?’

‘We lost a child. What do you think?’

I stood up and walked across to the mantelpiece to look at photographs of Jimmy. I found one at the back, probably in his early teens, looking smart in his school uniform. Nearer the front were photographs of Ron with various ships and crews. I bent down to read the names and noted several of them reoccurred over the years. Long lasting ties, I assumed. I bet they could tell some stories. One of the names was Briggs, and looking closer I could tell it was a brother of Terrence Briggs. Remembering he had photographs of trawlers on his walls, I asked if I could borrow it to take a copy. I knew if my uncle was alive, he’d be interested at looking at the faces. I must be softening, because I thought Briggs would be the same.

I sat back down and thanked her. I tried to sound conciliatory. ‘We all lose people we love, but we deal with it in different ways, don’t we? I don’t mean to upset you, but I want to know how your husband reacted. Did it change his relationship with Donna?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Did he become more protective towards her as she grew up?’

‘It was only natural.’

‘Perfectly understandable.’ I put my mug down. ‘How did he react to Donna’s pregnancy?’ It was a question she wasn’t expecting.

‘How do you know?’ she asked.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

She sighed, accepting the point. ‘Nothing really matters to me now other than seeing Donna again.’

‘We’re trying our best’ Sarah said.

We’d agreed not to mention Whitby yet in case we got her hopes up.

‘Donna was fifteen when she was pregnant. It took her months to tell me, her own mother. She was scared and didn’t know what to do. I found out eventually and she broke down in tears when I confronted her. She thought I’d be ashamed of her, but I couldn’t be ashamed of my own daughter. Truth be told, I was angry at first, but it was only because I wanted the best for her. I didn’t want her to make the same mistakes as I had.’

‘What happened?’ Sarah asked. I was doing the maths. We weren’t talking about Donna’s daughter, Chelsea.

‘She had an abortion.’

I looked away as Maria Platt started to cry. Sarah sat next to her and comforted her.

‘I promised Donna I wouldn’t tell her dad, but I broke my word. He had a right to know.’

‘How did he react?’ I asked.

‘He went mad, saying she’d let us down. He couldn’t believe it. Donna wouldn’t tell him who the father was, which just made it worse. She eventually told me it was a boy in her class at school, but it wouldn’t have done Ron any good knowing. I took Donna to the clinic for the abortion but Ron wouldn’t come. Things weren’t the same after that.’

‘Was that the last of it?’ I asked. We weren’t talking about Donna’s daughter, Chelsea, but I didn’t really want to make any trouble for Lisa Day.

Maria Platt shook her head. ‘No. Donna fell pregnant again.’

‘When?’

‘Just before she left.’

‘How did her father react?’

‘Badly.’

I waited for her to compose herself.

‘He hit the roof, saying she was ruining her life and not learning from her mistakes.’

‘I would have thought he’d have been pleased. It would have stopped her singing in the clubs?’

‘I think Ron thought he could stop her doing it. He was worried we’d have another mouth to feed and no money. He wanted Donna to have another abortion. He reckoned she’d only attract losers if she had a kid to be thinking of.’

I glanced at Sarah. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

‘That’s how he felt. I tried to persuade him, but he wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t accept she was pregnant. She told him she was keeping the baby.’

‘Wouldn’t Tim have stood by her? I would have thought Ron would have been happy for that to happen?’

‘Donna said she didn’t want anything more to do with Tim. She said he was too boring for her. They had a massive row and he told her she couldn’t stay in our house with the kid.’

‘So she left?’

Maria Platt gave me the slightest of nods and turned away from me.

I sat at my desk, staring at the photograph Maria Platt had lent to me. I knew I still needed to tell Briggs about his auditor and the photograph was giving me the kick-start I needed. I also still had questions for him and couldn’t leave it alone. I finished my coffee and stared at my laptop. The initial excitement of locating Donna Platt had evaporated. We were back to square one. All we could hope was that she made her way back to Whitby and our man heard about it. Sarah would keep chasing and pushing where she could.

‘Joe Geraghty?’

I looked at the man asking the question; cheap suit, clean shaven and short hair. His side-kick was almost identical in appearance, just twenty years younger.

‘Who’s asking?’ I immediately knew who they were. They flashed identity cards at me and sat down. The titles they gave me were pompous and overblown. Fraud Squad Officers.

‘You know why we’re here.’

‘I don’t even know who you are.’

‘You can ring DS Coleman if you like’ said the older man. ‘He gave us your details.’

He was clearly in charge, but I wasn’t in the mood for them. ‘What do you want?’

‘Christopher Murdoch.’

‘There’s a surprise.’

‘We need to talk to him.’

I sat back in my chair and stared at him. Murdoch still hadn’t been in touch with them. ‘I can’t help you.’

‘We think you can.’

I laughed. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘He’s your client.’

‘I don’t know where he is.’ It was partially true, at least.

‘Let’s not go down that road, Joe.’

I shrugged. ‘I know nothing more than you. He rang to say he’d be back any day.’

‘Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? I believe Richard is also very keen to talk to him.’

‘I’m sure he is.’ We sat in silence until I broke the golden rule and continued. ‘What’s your interest in Mr Murdoch?’

‘There’s been a development.’

‘What kind of development?’

‘We’ve got some new information we’d like to discuss with him. I assume he’s been completely frank and open with you about his business activities?’

They knew the answer as well as I did. ‘If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.’

‘Tell him’ the older man said to his colleague.

‘You’re familiar with the Newington Ward of the city?’

I nodded. I’d spent a lot of time there lately and knew of Murdoch’s involvement.

‘Mr Murdoch’s company is in charge of delivering the planned regeneration of the area’ he continued. ‘It’s a big project because as I’m sure you appreciate, the area is a shithole. The plan is to demolish a load of the old houses and buildings and pretty much start again.’

The older man turned to me. ‘Which means there’s a lot of money floating around in the system. Compulsory house purchases, nice new ones to build. Accountants, architects, they’ve all got their grubby fingers in the pie.’

I said nothing but I’d got the point.

‘And given our economic times, people are desperate to be involved. It’s highly profitable work, as I’m sure I don’t need to tell you. Pay lip-service to creating jobs and preserving the area’s heritage, and you’re on the gravy train. Simple as that.’

‘So what’s the problem?’ I asked. I knew what was coming, but felt I had no option but to play along.

‘Mr Murdoch is driving the train’ said the older man, taking over. ‘He’s in charge of the budget and he’s the one dishing the work out.’

I shrugged. ‘It’s his area of expertise. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. I wouldn’t worry about it, if I was you.’

‘But we do worry. Let’s say he has some business associates who are of interest to us.’

‘Of interest to you?’

‘Come on, Joe. I don’t need to spell it out to you, do I? Your client is corrupt. I’m sure he started off with good intentions, you know how it is, but he’s involved with some very bad people.’