The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin (16 page)

Geoff eventually decided he would call a meeting of the team for that night, which would be Friday. Having finally made a decision by putting the problem off for the time being, the last thought that passed through his tired mind before he fell into a fitful sleep on is mate's unmade bed was the proverb,
‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth'.

Geoff woke just after midday, tidied the room up a little, washed and stacked the breakfast and dinner plates and cutlery that had been left from the night before. All the papers, the cash and piles of credit cards he stacked neatly in the bread bin, placing the three quarters of a sliced loaf, still in its plastic wrapper, on the top. There was no room in his hiding place in the WC cistern so the bread bin was a temporary measure. There were several important things he wanted to do that afternoon before Sooty returned from his work.

Having finished his chores he left the three-storey building that had been converted into multiple bed-sits many years previous. He was so absorbed with what he intended to do that afternoon that he completely forgot that his probation officer had arranged an interview for him later that day. He caught the train into Manchester, spending all the rest of that day walking around the centre. He recorded in a little notebook the position of all the various cash machines, noting whether or not they were in well-lit areas on the main road or in the darker side streets. By the time he returned to the bed-sit, Sooty had already arrived but the look on his face as Geoff entered indicated that he was quite agitated.

‘They turned up,' said Sooty as soon as Geoff entered the room, a hint of panic in his voice.

Geoff didn't reply until he had closed and locked the door behind him.

‘Who's they,' he said, thinking that Sooty was talking about the police.

‘That guy whose case you lifted. He turned up with two other men and they looked real nasty characters. They talked to my mate for a while then came over to me and asked if I had seen anything. I said I hadn't as I was too busy looking after the compressor but I said I recognised the chap who was with them as he had asked me the same thing yesterday. I tell you what Geoff, that bloke whose case you lifted looked really frightened of those two guys; he was shitting bricks!'

‘Where did they go then?' enquired Geoff.

‘They went off towards the station. Me and my mate finished packing everything into the van and went back to the depot to unload but I couldn't get near the skip where I dumped the briefcase as there were too many blokes about. They'd been called out on an emergency so I will have to try again on Monday morning.'

That's not good
, thought Geoff to himself, he didn't like loose ends, especially loose ends that could lead to his front door. But he didn't disclose his worries to his mate.

Geoff had done some shopping locally but he'd been too busy to prepare anything for their tea so he gave Sooty a £20 note taken from the bread bin to go and get some fish and chips. While he was gone he pondered on what the men would possibly do, or what he would do in their position.

‘If I were them,' he said to himself, ‘I would enquire from the thieves operating the station to see where that leads me.' He knew that Sid Locket was working the station as several times in the past he'd had to duck quickly into a cafe or do a quick about turn to avoid him.

He had also seen him and his cronies in the area yesterda
y. Did he or any of his mates see me?
he pondered.
It would be awkward, very awkward indeed if they had.

*

That evening the Bolton brothers turned up as arranged and Geoff explained to them what had happened, bringing them up to date with the present situation. ‘It's money for old rope,' said Geoff.

‘Wow! That's Great,' whooped John Bolton.

‘We just use the cards until they cancel them, so let's get out there straight away and cash in before they do.'

This was followed by a shout of, ‘Yeah! Yeah!' from an excited Sooty.

Geoff too was being infected by the enthusiasm of the other two, with the thought of so much easy money at their fingertips. It was Derek Bolton who calmed them down by standing up in the middle of the room.

‘Hang on! Hang on! We're moving too fast here. These guys are not small time like us. They're in the big league so they have the knowhow to trace us, and when they do we'll all be tomorrow's people,' he said, making a cutting motion across his throat.

‘Derek's right,' said Geoff, ‘we have to think this through. There's a lot of money to be made here but there's also a big risk as Derek has rightly pointed out. I reckon we hit the cash points in the city tonight but avoid using the points locally to avoid the security cameras,' the lads nodded in agreement. ‘I've made a list and a plan of the side streets where we can operate but we have to keep our faces covered. When they cancel the cards we will just lie low until the dust settles. Bingo!'

‘That sounds sensible to me,' said John Bolton as he stood up. The other two, still filled with their initial enthusiasm, shouted in agreement. ‘Let's get to work now.'

It was four o'clock in the morning when they returned by taxi to the top of the street where the Bolton brothers were staying in the hostel. As it was so late, and not wanting to attract attention at the hostel, they decided they would all bunk down in the small bed-sit.

They walked the two blocks to the flat, climbing the stairs in their stocking feet and talking in whispers so as not to disturb the old lady in the room below them.

As they counted the money they had taken from the city cash machines with the twenty credit cards that night and in the early hours of the morning, the young men were stunned. They had taken £6000, plus the cash Geoff had taken locally the night before, all for just a few hours' work!

Sergeant Robinson had not solved the theft of equipment from the building site and was under pressure from his superintendent to make some progress. The construction firm's director, Daniel Goodier, was obviously pulling some strings. Even though he suspected this man of being involved in some way, he had no proof. It was this backlog of work that caused Robinson and his assistant to work that Saturday.

On top of these problems was a memo recently dropped on his desk concerning the forged £20 notes being circulated in the area. These notes were of excellent quality according to the folder on the case that the sergeant was reading. They could well have gone unnoticed but for the fact that a new testing machine was on trial at one of the banks. This had discovered the forgeries and, consequently, the bank had immediately checked all its other notes. It seemed that the forged ones had been brought in that very morning.

The bank had checked and made a list of depositors that day. A quick look down the list showed the sergeant that all the deposits were from local firms, a fish and chip shop, taxi firm, butchers, green grocers and a clothes shop.

If he moved quickly there was a possibility that the shop assistants would be able to remember who had paid for goods with £20 notes. ‘Wilson!' he shouted to his constable in the next office. ‘I hope you've got your walking shoes on, we've got some leg work to do.' As the sergeant put the sheaf of papers in his briefcase his constable appeared at the office door.

Their first port of call was the local taxi office. This was a small terraced cottage on the main road that had been converted into a small waiting room with an office. In the adjoining room was an operator come receptionist on a radio who kept contact with the drivers, directing them to customers via incoming calls. There were two men sitting in the waiting room.

The sergeant showed his ID to the radio operator. He was also the proprietor and it emerged that it was he who had taken the previous two days cash from Thursday afternoon and Friday into the bank that morning. Any cash taken that morning was not included. The two men in the waiting room were drivers waiting for customers. On the Thursday and Friday in question they had been working the supermarket run, taking customers from the local supermarket to their homes with their groceries. These were all local drop offs of only a few pounds each so they had not taken any £20 notes. The other driver was the proprietor's brother. It was he who took the longer fares being on the taxi rank near the railway station at that time.

‘OK, tell him to wait there, we're on our way,' said the sergeant as they left the taxi offices.

‘Do you know why the brother does the longer fares?' Sergeant Robinson asked his constable as they were driving to the railway station.

‘So that he's the one that gets any tips that might be going,' said the constable, smiling.

‘Spot on constable,' chuckled the sergeant: When they arrived at the station there was a line of vehicles parked at the rank waiting for fares. All had the raised lit sign ‘TAXI' on the top of their cars. The sergeant went to the first driver who was standing alongside his cab smoking a cigarette.

‘Are you from Ever Ready Cabs?' he enquired.

‘No, he's in the middle,' said the driver, waving vaguely in the direction of the centre vehicle, ‘but I'm the first in the queue if you want a taxi,' he shouted after the retreating sergeant.

The third driver was dozing in the driver's seat but woke with a start as the sergeant opened the passenger door and sat down behind him.

‘You'll have to use the one at the front mate,' he said, thinking that the sergeant was a fare.

Robinson ignored the man's instruction. ‘I spoke to your brother earlier. He said he would tell you I'd be coming to have a word with you,' he showed the man his ID.

The taxi driver thought for a while before replying. ‘Well, I had two passengers who gave me £20 notes on Friday. They were regulars. I pick them up from their homes and bring them to the station. From there they then catch the train to the airport. My brother will have their home addresses at the office. The other one was the guy who had his suitcase lifted as I dropped him off but you'll know about him as he would have reported it to your mob. I also had a £20 note off four young men who waved me down in Manchester centre Deansgate to be exact, it was early this morning after I'd dropped off a fare, I brought them back to the centre of Stockport.

‘They stuck in my mind as they gave me the change as a tip which is unusual for younguns today, mind you, on reflection they did seem to be doing a lot of laughing and giggling amongst themselves but I put that down to drink. Then I've had two £20 notes paid today which are here,' he said whilst holding up three £20 notes, ‘that's the lot. I've looked at these notes, they look fine to me.' As he finished talking he handed the notes to Sergeant Robinson, who took the notes and inspected them closely.

‘These two are fine,' he said handing them back to the driver. ‘This one is a forgery. Would you recognise this man again who lost his suitcase?' he enquired.

‘I certainly would. He was closer to me than you are. There were some workmen doing a job here replacing a damaged lamp standard I think? They had one of those compressor things running and a jackhammer going. They were making a hell of a din and he had to come in close to hear how much he owed. Oh. And he didn't lose his case. He had it lifted.'

Having finished talking, the driver started his engine and moved forward a few yards as the cab at the front drove off with a fare.

‘Where did you pick up this man?' enquired the sergeant.

The driver turned off his engine before replying. ‘It's criminal the cost of diesel today, you can't afford to have your engine running unless you've got a fare. Oh yes! I remember now, I picked him up from the big fancy hotel on the outskirts of town, the one with the indoor heated swimming pool. It's called Clarence House Hotel, the one next to the golf club.' The driver started his motor again and pulled forward as the taxi in front of him also pulled away with a fare.

‘Would you recognise any of the group of lads if you saw them again.' enquired Robinson.

‘Yes! At that time of night I'm always a bit wary, especially of a group of lads.'

‘You say the suitcase was lifted, did you see who by?' queried the sergeant.

‘No! Sorry mate,' replied the taxi driver shaking his head.

‘Thanks for your time, you've been most helpful,' Sergeant Robinson said, handing a receipt for the forged £20 note to the unhappy taxi driver as he left the vehicle.

Sergeant Robinson joined the constable who had stayed with their car as it was parked on yellow lines. ‘Ring the station Willy; see if anyone reported having a suitcase or a briefcase stolen from outside the railway station early Thursday afternoon.' It was only a matter of minutes before the desk sergeant at the police station replied to their enquiry. He informed them that there had been no reports of any case stolen in the vicinity of Stockport railway station on that Thursday.

‘Okay Willy, you go to the railway police and request the tape from the security cameras outside the station for that Thursday. In the meantime, I'll call in at these other shops on the list then we'll meet up and pay a visit to this Clarence House Hotel to see if we can turn up some information on this guy.'

Constable Wilson hurried towards the railway station offices. He was feeling quite excited, this was much better than the hum drum routine office work that he had been doing over the last few weeks.

They had obviously managed to get on to this case pretty quickly while things were still warm and because of that, events were moving along at a very fast pace. The sergeant was on the phone when the constable returned.

It was while they were driving through the town towards the Clarence Hotel that Paul Robinson shared his thoughts with his partner. ‘I've checked on the addresses from Ever Ready Taxis for the two fares that paid with £20 notes on the Friday. I think they are out of the equation at the moment. That leaves the gentleman who did not, for reasons unknown to us, report his case stolen on the Thursday.

Also there are those four young men who were picked up in Manchester City centre then dropped off in the town; they seemed to have plenty of money to burn. There was no joy at the other businesses; we'll see if we're any more the wiser after our visit to the Clarence Hotel. So what do you think so far Constable Wilson?'

There was several moments silence while the constable gathered his thoughts before replying. ‘It's very odd that the party that paid with a £20 note on the Thursday should not report his case stolen, especially as the taxi driver told us he was exceptionally agitated about its loss. At the moment he seems to be our prime subject.'

‘Can't the bank be more specific about which firms paid in the money?'

‘Apparently not constable,' replied the sergeant, ‘they did the usual checks on the notes but these forgeries are so accurate that they were not detected with their usual equipment. It was only before the money was being placed in the vault that it was passed through this new machine and it was then that the forgeries were detected. They've now changed their system. They keep the notes separate and recorded until they're passed through their new detector.'

‘Talk about after the horse has bolted,' quipped the constable.

‘You'll come across a lot of that in this game, constable. It sometimes makes you wonder and despair at times. I'm afraid a lot of these so-called professionals are lacking in basic practical common sense when it comes to security.'

This last statement from Sergeant Robinson was said more to himself than the constable. Further conversation came to an end as they pulled into the tree-lined drive leading to the five star Clarence House Hotel.

The manager was waiting for the two police officers as they entered the reception. ‘Good afternoon gentlemen. My name is Jackson, Cyril Jackson; I'm the manager of the Clarence. Miss. Whitaker was on duty on the morning in question. She is here to assist you to the best of her ability.' He indicated a young lady standing at his side. Sergeant Robinson did not reply but looked around the reception area.

‘I see you have a security camera covering the reception, Mr. Jackson. Could we request the film for Thursday and also not to destroy or override any of your previous recordings?'

The manager was a little taken aback by Sergeant Robinson's forthright manner but duly went off to follow the police officer's instructions. When he'd departed the sergeant turned to Miss. Whitaker.

‘Good afternoon, Miss. Whitaker. I'm Sergeant Robinson and my associate is P.C. Wilson, we're making enquiries about a client of the hotel who departed by taxi on Thursday morning. Do you recall such a gentleman?'

‘Why yes, I do,' answered Miss. Whitaker. ‘It was unusual that he paid his bill in cash and he also gave me a £20 tip. I still have it here in my purse.'

Miss. Whitaker fiddled in her purse, withdrawing a £20 note, which she handed to Sergeant Robinson, who briefly inspected the crisp note.

‘I'm afraid I will have to confiscate your tip Miss. Whitaker as it's a forgery. My constable will give you a receipt.' The sergeant turned to face the manager who'd returned to the reception, leaving Miss. Whitaker rather stuck for words.

‘I have the tapes from the reception area for all of last week,' the manager informed Robinson as he handed him the tapes.

‘I would like to look at the register, Mr. Jackson, to see what name the gentleman in question used when he signed in,' he said as he passed the tapes to his constable.

*

It was later that Saturday afternoon back at the police station and Sergeant Robinson was showing signs of getting very frustrated. He was finding it difficult to trace the name and address in the hotel register and also the cash in the hotel safe had turned up eight forged £20 notes, the same number as Mr. X, as the sergeant had called him, had used to pay his hotel bill. Robinson accepted a mug of tea from the constable and placed it on his desk.

He was on the phone, talking to the Chairman of the Local Traders' Association and he knew the man quite well having seen him several times at the Lodge meetings. ‘He'll contact the local shops and inform them to be on the lookout for these forged notes,' he said to the constable picking up his mug of tea.

‘There's only two hours before they close sergeant, will he be able to contact all the shops in the area in such a short space of time?' queried Constable Wilson.

‘He'll probably make four or five phone calls, each to different sections of the town. They in turn will make a similar number of calls and the people they contact will do the same. Within half an hour, every member of their association will be aware of the forgeries. They have the number that is stamped on the forged notes they are to look out for, a simple, quick and ingenious method that works.'

From the way the sergeant smiled after his explanation, Constable Wilson gathered that he must have had a lot to do with setting the system up in the first place. The phone rang and the sergeant answered it immediately.

‘I thought as much,' he said, ‘there's no such person or any address that matches the one that Mr. X left in the hotel register. Well,' he continued, ‘you know the instructions from the chief constable. We have already overstretched our budget, so, no more overtime! I'll see you all bright and early on Monday morning, Wilson. Have a good weekend, what's left of it.' The constable said his goodbyes as he left. The sergeant stayed behind.

*

He had played and studied the security tapes from the railway station, along with those from the hotel, several times. He eventually left the police station several hours after the constable and he was feeling quite pleased with himself, with the knowledge of what the contents of the tapes had eventually disclosed, his perseverance had certainly paid dividends.