Numb: A Dark Thriller (23 page)

35

Riley didn’t want the police in his house again and so refused Davison’s forward offer that they accompany him home. He also refused to accompany them to the station for a few questions (
purely as a witness to the explosion, Mr Day, nothing criminal, of course
). But, knowing he’d have to answer their questions sooner or later, Riley decided to meet them in middle ground and suggested a cafe he knew of that was only a few minutes drive from here. He was allowed to take his own car and five minutes later both he and the two detectives met there.

It was still raining heavily as Riley and Davison took a seat at a table under the canopy outside. No one else was sitting out here and the street the cafe was situated on was quiet due to the downpour, which meant Riley could talk freely without being overheard. Not that he would talk of course. Especially not to the police.

“Tea, coffee...?” Burns asked, hovering by the table.

“Coffee, black,” Riley said and Burns hurried inside to fetch the drinks.

Davison closed her umbrella and shook off the excess rain. Then she propped it beside the table and smiled at Riley. He looked up, checking the clouds to see if there would be an end to the torrential weather.

“It doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon,” Davison finally said.

“What won’t?” Riley asked.

“The rain. I said it doesn’t look like it’ll stop soon.”

Riley looked at her, took in her shiny dark hair, pale complexion and hazel eyes. She looked like an older version of Maria, the one and only woman to break his heart. He moved down to her slender neck with the silver chain around it and down further to what looked to be a smart navy suit under her black jacket. Then he looked back into her eyes and nodded. “It never rains, it pours, right?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said and smiled, showing a top row of sparkling white teeth.

“I take it you’re not talking about the weather anymore,” Riley said.

The DS didn’t answer as Burns reappeared with three foam cups. He placed them in the centre of the table before sitting next to his superior.

“You were at the club on the night of the shooting,” Davison then said, pulling her drink closer to her and looking down into the cup. “And you showed up at Mr Nash’s mansion not long after the explosion today.”

“So?” Riley said.

Davison smiled again, but this time Riley didn’t find it so attractive. She was just a regular, nosy copper again.

“You have to admit, it’s a coincidence.”

“What is?” Riley asked but thinking:
Just get to the fucking point!

“You being the only one of Nash’s employees at both scenes.”

“I wasn’t
at
both scenes,” Riley replied. “I arrived at Nash’s house
after
the bomb went off.”

“Still,” Davison said and took a sip of her drink, “you were the only one of Nash’s employees to come to his rescue.”

“Mr Purvis was with me today. So there were
two
employees coming to the rescue.”

“Mr Purvis didn’t go after the shooters at the nightclub the other week,” Burns said, obviously wanting to get in on the action. “And he was injured when he turned up today. You seem to be the one always ready to take control of a situation.”

Riley had heard enough bollocks. They were trying to praise him up. Cater to his ego.

“Can you two just tell me what you want?” he snapped. “I’ve had a bit of a bad morning and would like to go home.”

“We said we could have had this chat at your apartment,” Davison said.

“Well, we’re having it here. Now, will you please get to the questions?”

“Of course,” Davison said and smirked.

She asked what happened back at Turner’s club and Riley told her what he knew – which wasn’t much. Just a wreath left at the door that had obviously been wired up to go off when moved. Davison then asked how he found out about the explosion at Nash’s mansion and Riley explained that he didn’t
find out
but had heard the explosion when he’d called Sandra.

“Why did you call Nash’s partner and not Nash himself?” Davison asked.

“Because Nash hasn’t been talking much since he had his son’s brains splattered across his face,” Riley answered. The last thing he wanted was these two to find out about Purvis and Sandra. “Anyway, we heard the explosion and drove straight there.”

Davison scribbled something in her notebook. Then smiled again.

“When we spoke to you last week you were adamant that you didn’t know who was behind the shooting,” she said. “Well, what do you think now after what’s happened this morning.”

This one was definitely Dainton’s work,
Riley thought.
As for the shooting... the jury was still out on that one.

“You’re the police,” he said. “What do you think now?”

“We think the same as before. That Lenny Dainton and his mob were behind the shooting and now this.”

“Well, there you go. Go and arrest him and let me go home and shower.”

Davison giggled and as much as it pained Riley to admit it, he felt himself softening towards her again. He guessed she was the sort of woman who got away with a lot when she fluttered her eyelashes.

“You know we need to follow an investigation and build up evidence before we can do that,” she said. “I wish we could go and arrest Dainton for what we suspect but we can’t. That’s why we need to talk to people like you.”

“People like me?” Riley asked.

“You have good reputation, Riley – you don’t mind if I call you Riley, do you?”

“Everyone else does,” he said. “And what do you mean, a good reputation?”

“Some of the people we’ve spoken to in the last week,” Burns said. “You know, investigating the shooting. Even the people who don’t like Nash speak highly of you. They say you’re not just hired muscle, but a good bloke. Is that true?”

Ah, a typical good-cop saying...

“I just run the doors for Nash,” Riley said. “That’s it. I’m not out to beat people up and meet women. A lot of people think all doormen are just thugs but I know differently. I know that a lot of the blokes I work with are there to make sure people are safe when they’re out on a night. I know a lot of them have to do it for extra money because they have families to provide for and not because they enjoy the violence. If there’s trouble, I try and sort it the best way possible and nine times out of ten you can stop a fight from flaring up by talking to people. If people think I’m a good bloke then it’s because I try and do my job the right way.”

“Nice speech,” said Davison.

“Thanks, I’ve been working on it for the Doorman of the Year Awards.”

“And that’s why we wanted to have a little chat with you,” Davison went on without a pause. “Because you’re a good, honest man we thought you might be helpful.”

“I’ve already told you that I don’t know who wants Nash dead. You keep mentioning Dainton-”

“Who else would it be?” Davison interrupted.

Riley shook his head. This little chat wasn’t about Dainton. This was about himself.

“So, let me take a guess at what you two want from me,” Riley said and finally grabbed his drink and took a large swallow of the lukewarm, sour coffee.  “You two want
me
to keep my eyes peeled and my ears to the ground and when I find out who was behind this I come running to you instead of letting certain other people take the law into their own hands. Right?”

“Near enough,” Davison said. She shot a look at Burns who had stood up to answer a call on his mobile. As the DC moved away from the table she looked back at Riley and asked, “What do you say?”

“You expect me to become a grass?”

“Not at all, Riley. Let me put it another way. I know what sort of man Mike Nash is and what he’s capable of. I know he has eyes and ears everywhere and will see and hear stuff long before it comes to the attention of the police. I also know that unlike you, he’ll suspect Dainton to be behind these attacks and will be planning revenge. What I’m asking of you, being the good, decent man everyone says that you are, is to do the right thing and give us any info you can so that we can take Dainton down and prosecute him to the full extent of the law. I know you might not find any real proof that Dainton was responsible for the attacks so that he can be tried in court but you might learn other things. You might find out about one of his dodgy deals, or details of a past crime, or one that he’s planning for the near future. Give us anything so that we can get him off the street and down the station and throw the book at him. Once we get him on one crime we have the time to grill him about others.”

“And how would that be of benefit to me?”

“Because, like I already said, I
know
that Nash will go after Dainton. You work for Nash. That means that
you
will be going after Dainton. And that means when something happens to Dainton, I’ll have no choice but to come after
you
. But I don’t want that, Riley. Don’t fight fire with fire. Let the law punish Dainton and don’t risk death or imprisonment to pay him back for what he’s done to Nash.”

“I won’t,” Riley lied. “I’ve already told you that I don’t know anything.”

“But you might soon.”

Riley didn’t answer as Burns snapped his phone closed and walked back to the table.

“That was uniform who followed Nash and his family to hospital,” he said. “They’re fine and are probably going to be discharged within the hour. They’re going back to Nash’s apartment in the city centre.” Then, somewhat sarcastically, he added: “Must be nice having more than one house.”

Davison thought for a moment. Then said: “Okay, we’ll go and see if forensics have turned anything up at the mansion or the club and then call on Nash.” Davison stood up and opened her umbrella. “Thanks for your time, Riley. You still have my card with my number, don’t you?”

“Somewhere,” Riley said, knowing full well that it was probably ‘somewhere’ within the mound of rubbish in the city tip by now.

“Please think about what we’ve discussed.” She flashed him another one of those smiles. “Goodbye.”

Riley picked up his drink as the two detectives headed along the street to their car.

“Silly cow,” he said to himself. “Sexy, but silly.”

“Do you think he’ll co-operate?” Burns asked as he climbed into the car.

Davison shook her umbrella and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hopefully,” she said. “He’s the best pick out of all of Nash’s men. He’s never been inside and has a good reputation. Who knows, maybe he’ll see sense and do the right thing.”

“In his line of work the right thing is to sort things out yourself and keep us lot out the way,” said Burns.

“Like I said, I think this bloke’s different,” Davison replied. “If he hears something we can use against Dainton then maybe he’ll call me.”

Burns smirked at her.

“Call
you
?”

“The police, I mean.”

Burns grinned, cheekily.

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

“Just shut up and drive,” Davison said. “He might come in useful, that’s all.”

“I still say we’re wasting our time on him,” Burns said as he pulled away. “If he works for Nash he’ll be loyal. He’s probably had to do some nasty shit in his time. You think he’ll just forget about all of that and side with the police?”

Davison looked out of the window, gazing out at the rain.

“That’s what I’m waiting to see.”             

4 YEARS AGO

“So, you know what I want you both to do?”

Riley and Howden nodded.

“Good,” Nash said. “Good lads. Go on then.”

Riley and Howden left the office and headed out to the car. It was a Saturday night and Riley had been pulled from his duties as head doorman to do a little extra job. It seemed to be happening a lot recently, what with McCabe being banged up.
He
was normally the first to be called on for this type of work but without him Nash obviously had to recruit from further down the ranks. But Riley didn’t mind so much. It got him away from the monotony of the doors at the very least; it got him away from the drunks and dealers and the junkies and crazies. Plus the little bonus in his pay would be worth it. And in the end it was only some little scumbag getting the slap they deserved. It wasn’t like he was hurting someone who’d done nothing wrong. No, this bloke deserved what was coming to him.

The takings had been down in Twilight for the last couple of months; twenty quid one night, thirty the next, maybe the odd tenner the following week. Little amounts that a thief hoped would be marked down to human error. A couple of customers paid with ten but got change of twenty – things like that. But Nash wasn’t that gullible and had Purvis install a hidden camera above all four tills and the first Friday afterwards Eric Reynolds, a lowly barman who’d worked there for the past six months, had been caught red-handed dipping into the takings. In-between his last shift and Nash checking the footage that proved his guilt, however, Reynolds had disappeared. The landlord of the flat he’d been renting hadn’t been given any warning or forwarding address and Reynolds wasn’t answering his mobile. He had no family in Thirnbridge and everyone who classed him as a friend or acquaintance had no idea where he’d gone either. Maybe he’d heard rumours that Nash had had cameras installed in the club, realised the jig was up and skipped town before he could be dealt with. Maybe he’d simply realised he was pushing his luck and had decided to move onto another place and try his luck in another boozer. Either way, he’d vanished. But Nash had eyes everywhere and he also had Detective Inspector Thornton on his side who could use every tool at the police’s disposal to do a little personal job.

Earlier tonight Thornton had received good info that Reynolds was holed up in Trenton, a seaside town sixteen miles down the coast. The info had been passed to Nash (Thornton would be getting a nice little bonus in his monthly pay-off) and Nash had checked it out. Now Riley and Howden were off to pay the sticky-fingered barman a surprise visit.

Once on the road, Howden lit up a cigarette and didn’t seem willing to start a conversation. But that was nothing knew. Riley had been paired with him for the last year whenever a little job like this came up, whenever someone had to be taught a lesson. Nash said they were a perfect match; Howden was head-strong and showed no mercy whilst Riley kept his wits about him and used his brain if things looked to get a little dodgy and common sense had to play a part. But, whatever way they had to play this tonight, Reynolds was going to get hurt tonight. This was personal, and Riley tried to put himself in Nash’s shoes. He’d been stolen from. He’d had someone take him for a fool. He’d been disrespected. Wouldn’t Riley want the same thing done if someone had done those things to him?

Probably not,
he thought.

Half an hour later, the two of them parked around the side of the bed and breakfast that was situated on the end of a narrow street that sloped a half a mile down to a small pebble beach. They climbed out as the time neared eleven o’clock. The night was dark and Autumnal. Fallen leaves clogged the gutter. A chill wind carried with it the sound of the churning sea. Riley could smell the salt in the air, fresh and nauseating. The noise of the Friday night crowd echoed behind them, the high street of bars and clubs a good five-hundred yards away. There were only a handful of people on this street, heading towards one of the boarding houses or flitting between the two old-style pubs squashed between fish and chip shops and curry houses. It should be relatively easy to get Reynolds out of the building and into the car without being noticed.

Riley led the way as he and Howden marched into the bed and breakfast.

The hallway didn’t look like it had been decorated for twenty years. The walls were a drab brown colour and the carpet beneath their feet was a dull red and had lost a lot of its bounce. The air smelled of dusty books and mothballs. The reception desk was ahead of them and a young man was sat behind it. No one else was around. The place was silent. If there were any other guests staying here, they were either sound asleep or out partying.

“You two Mr Nash’s lads?” the man behind the desk asked and Riley nodded. This was obviously the contact.

Nash had called the bed and breakfast earlier tonight after getting the info from Thornton, who thought it best that he stay out of it, what with him being a copper and everything. Nash had spoken to a young lad who worked as a porter/waiter/receptionist and any other role that might be required and told him who he was. The lad told him he’d heard of him and asked how he could he help. Nash asked about Reynolds and was told yes, Reynolds was staying here. He’d paid cash but had showed his driver’s licence as proof of ID. It was definitely him. Nash had asked if he was in his room now and was told no. Reynolds had gone out but the lad would call back when he got in. Nash said there’d be a hundred quid for him if he did. The lad said thank you, took Nash’s number, hung up and called back within the hour. Reynolds was back in. Game on.

Riley Howden approached the reception desk. The man behind it was young, maybe nineteen or twenty and his cheeks were prickled with acne. He was dressed in a shirt and tie that looked too baggy for him. A badge on his chest pocket said
:
MARK
.

“Reynolds is in room four,”
MARK
said and handed Riley a key. “Ground floor, through that door.” He pointed behind the stairs. “He came back in about an hour ago, just before I called Mr Nash, and hasn’t left since. He seemed pretty pissed.”

“Thanks,” Riley said and handed the lad five twenty pound notes. An easy hundred. With the couple of hundred Reynolds had helped himself to over the past month or so, Nash was now down three hundred. But it wasn’t about the money. It was the principle.

“Thanks,”
MARK
said and tucked the notes in his trouser pocket. He suddenly looked a little nervous. “Right, good, I’ll go and make myself scarce. Hide in the toilet until you’ve gone. Just leave the key in the room when you leave.”He started to walk off and then stopped. Looked back. “Mr Nash did say that nothing would go down inside, right? I mean, you’ll take him somewhere, won’t you? I don’t want the old woman who runs this place to know I let you two in. She’s in bed now but if you make a noise...”

“We’ll be in and out before you know it,” Riley said.

“Good. Okay. There’re only a few other guests staying here tonight and they’re all out on the town. Probably won’t be in until the early hours. I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

Riley and Howden let
MARK
disappear through a staff door before heading through the door behind the staircase.

A few seconds later they were quietly unlocking the door to room four.

The curtains were drawn against the small window and it took a few seconds for Riley’s eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. When they did, he could see the skinny human shape lying on its back on the crumpled bed.

Reynolds was out cold and snoring his head off. He was fully clothed, including his jacket and shoes. He’d obviously downed a lot in a short amount of time and needed to sleep it off. Even from the doorway, Riley could smell the stale alcohol seeping from his pores.

Howden quietly edged forward and gently slapped Reynolds lightly on the face.

He kept snoring.

“Right, let’s get him to the car,” Howden said. “We’ll carry the fucker. If he wakes up I’ll keep him quiet.”

Riley grabbed Reynolds’s legs and Howden his arms and together they lifted him from the bed. He was light, probably less than twelve stone and it was easy carrying him out the room. If they came across anyone in the lobby or outside, they’d say that their friend had had too much to drink and had taken ill. If Reynolds woke up and started screaming, they’d say he’d taken something and was having a bad trip and didn’t know what was going on. Whatever happened, they’d get him out of here. No one would try and stop them, that’s for sure.

As it happened, they managed to get him out to the car without seeing anyone or without him waking up, and it was only when they threw him onto the back seat that Reynolds’s eyes flickered opened.

Riley slid behind the wheel as Howden settled in the back seat next to their guest and spun the car towards the coast.

A few seconds later, after a yawn and rub of his eyes, Reynolds sat bolt upright in the seat and mumbled, “What the-”

But Howden was on Reynolds before he could finish, grabbing his face and pushing his head back against the seat rest.

“Surprise, you little fucker,” Howden hissed. “You were wrong to think you could hide.”

“Hide?” Reynolds asked, his words coming out muffled as Howden’s fingers dug into his cheeks, squashing his mouth together. “Who are you? I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“But you know Mike Nash,” Riley said. “You stole from him. Bad move.”

“No, I-”

Howden squashed his cheeks together more, stopping the excuses from escaping.

When they reached the pebble beach a couple of  minutes later, Riley pulled up on a grass verge and steered into a copse of trees, hiding the car from the road. There were no other vehicles parked nearby and no one out on foot. They were alone here and Reynolds knew it too. He began to panic and the car began to rock as he tried to make a break for it, tugging at the door handle and trying to knock it open with his feet.

A few punches from Howden soon put an end to that.

Reynolds was crying and didn’t put up a struggle as they dragged him from the car and onto the beach. It was almost pitch black here, the only light that from the moon and stars. The wind had picked up. The air felt thick and fresh. The waves crashing onto the shore roared like caged animals as Riley and Howden threw Reynolds onto the cold pebbles face first.

“Please...” he sobbed, “Please, don’t kill me...”

Riley wished Reynolds had tried to put up more of a fight and give them a reason to hurt him. With him lying on the floor, bawling like a child, this didn’t seem like payback anymore. It seemed more like an unprovoked attack. Still, Nash had ordered it, and so it had to be done.

“We’re not killers,” Riley said. “If Nash wanted to you dead we would’ve killed you back at the B and B. You’re not worth killing. Nash just wanted a message sending.”

“I understand,” Reynolds said. “I got it. I’m sorry. I was a fucking idiot to steal a few quid from the till. I couldn’t help myself. I’ll pay it back. All of it!”

“Nash isn’t bothered about the money,” Riley said. Then he grabbed Reynolds by the wrists and yanked his arms forward.

Reynolds fell forward, splayed on the pebbles, belly down. Riley put his knee in the back of his neck, pinning him still as he kept hold of his wrists.

“What are you...?”

Howden then walked in front of Reynolds, grinning down at him as he raised one booted foot above one of his outstretched hands.

“Please, don’t...!”

Howden brought his foot down fast, eighteen stone of pure menace behind it.

It stamped down on Reynolds’s right hand and an agonising scream exploded from his mouth. The second, third and fourth stamp crushed the fingers, breaking bones and tearing flesh as they were pummelled between the hard leather sole and the shingles and pebbles and fragments of flotsam and jetsam beneath.

Riley tried to ignore the screaming and instead listened to the waves breaking nearby.

He deserves this
, he told himself.
He’s done wrong and needs to be paid back. Don’t feel sorry for him. Don’t even think about him...

He kept hold of Reynolds’s wrists as Howden went to work on the left hand.

After the second stamp that mashed the fingers, Reynolds gagged, threw up what he’d drank earlier and then passed out.

Howden stamped down another three times and when he’d finished both hands had taken on a claw-like appearance. The fingers were twisted and bent and had begun to swell. Dirt and blood covered them and small stones clung to the wounds. Bones had protruded through the skin in several places.

Howden lit up a cigarette and stood over the prone figure like a proud big game hunter next to his kill.

Riley headed back to the car, glad it was all over and dreading the next time Nash would offer him some extra duties.

But, for now at least, it was job done.