Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 (37 page)

I resorted to my famous blank face.

Mum lowered her voice. ‘I have to know. Does it involve your Dad? I know they were in on everything together.’

‘Bob says yes, but I say no. I don’t believe it. Dad wouldn’t have got mixed up in anything dodgy. And it’s not like we led the high life, is it?’

‘I agree.’ She squeezed my hand.

‘Prepare yourself, though. This crazy town is running out of surprises.’

She nodded. ‘Thanks for telling me.’

I thought back to my visit at Bob’s. I was itching to tell Mum how he’d grassed me up to Jimmy, but her eyes radiated so much kindness I didn’t have the heart to tell her. Besides, that would only lead to more questions about my conga with Jimmy. I decided it could all wait until a sunny day. And those are few and far between in Weighton.

Instead, I put my arms around her and hugged her tight. ‘We’ll be okay. I promise.’ My T-shirt absorbed a flotilla of sobs.

After the waterworks had shut down, she dried her eyes and gave me a strong smile. ‘I’m okay now.’

‘That’s good. I’ll ask Kate to take you home.’

‘I’d rather stay.’

‘No, Mum. Best you go home. I could be here all night. I’m sure Kate will stay with you until you’re settled. Or I could ask Debbie to come over.’

‘I’ll be fine. And anyway, Kate should stay with you. Why don’t I just get a taxi?’

‘There’s no way I’m letting a taxi take you home.’ I gave her a wink. ‘Not when Diffy’s scooter is around the corner. You’ll look the
dogs
in his storm-trooper helmet.’

Mum tried to stop the laugh coming, but she was too late, and it wriggled out. Behind us, I heard Kate join in. I hadn’t noticed she’d returned.

‘Actually, the scooter’s not an option.’ Kate’s weather girl voice came over the airwaves. ‘Your friend Diffy came earlier with a spare key. I told him where he could find it.’ She put her hand on Mum’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Greene, I’ll take you home. It’s no problem. I can wait with you, too.’

Mum stood up. ‘Thank you, dear. But just see me inside the house. I’ll be fine. I’d rather you came back to stay with Edward.’

I got up too, and gave Mum another hug. ‘I’ll see you later.’ I edged over to Kate and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks for this. I owe you diamonds.’

‘A blueberry muffin will be fine. Just save it for later. I am coming back.’

‘No need. I’ll text you when I’m done.’ I half-turned away from her. ‘I better go.’

‘Then do go,’ she said smiling.

I gave my mum a final squeeze. ‘See you, Mum.’

‘Take care, Edward. I love you.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Sunday – 23:23

About twenty minutes later, Hobbs sauntered into the holding room where I was waiting. His eyes found mine, and he curled his finger at me. I trailed behind him along three corridors and an open-plan area before ending up in a small office. He closed the door behind us then grabbed a chair on one side of a large desk and angled it for me to sit on. As Hobbs moved to sit the other side, I lowered my weary bones onto the upholstered seat pad and stole a sly look around the room. The commendation certificates on the wall were all in the name of “Malcolm Reece Hobbs”. I’d never figured him for a
Malcolm
. What can I tell you? Never judge a copper by his badge – or his taste in jazz music.

Hobbs took out a bottle of whisky from the small cabinet behind him and placed it on the desk. He retrieved two tumbler glasses from his desk drawer and set them next to the bottle of Macallan. After pouring two fingers he chinked the glasses and pushed one over to me.

‘Chin-chin,’ he said.

‘Are we celebrating?’

He nodded, a huge smile immoveable on his face.

I picked up my glass and took a tiny sip of the single malt. It felt like a flamethrower had ignited my throat. After blinking back the alcohol rush I folded my arms outwards. ‘I take it we have a winner?’

‘We do.’

‘Well?’

He drained his glass, poured another finger and started nodding. ‘You were right.’ He took a piece of paper from a plastic in-tray and slid it across the table with one finger. ‘That’s a copy of the signed confession.’

I looked at the page of typed text in front of me and the name on the top, but I didn’t bother to read it. I already knew the ending.

Hobbs held his tumbler by the rim and agitated the golden liquid. As he watched it swirl around the glass, he talked me through all the things he’d done to get the confession. How he’d gone from room to room in a whirlwind of cross-questioning, how he’d narrowed it down inconsistency by inconsistency, how he’d got the first one to break, how the threat of charges against one had got a confession from the other.

I let out a long, low whistle. ‘Wow. Case solved. Who would have thought it?’

‘Must be a relief for you.’

I rubbed my face in my hands and nodded. ‘Yep, it’s been a long weekend.’

‘You do realise what it means?’

‘Jimmy?’

He nodded.

‘What about the blackmail scam?’

Hobbs stopped swirling the whisky in his glass. ‘There’s no way we can make that stick. It boils down to her word against his. CPS won’t touch it.’

‘You’re letting him go?’

‘Afraid so.’ He looked up at me. ‘If it helps, I told him your testimony put him in the clear. But you may want to give him a wide berth all the same.’

I tugged my jacket tight around me. ‘I’ll take my chances.’

‘So it would seem.’ He raised his glass. ‘C’mon, down the hatch. I’ve got paperwork to do.’

‘What about Bob?’

‘Ahhh,’ he said. ‘The one in your one and a half requests.’

‘Thanks for sorting out the other thing, by the way.’

‘No problem. I would’ve got word to your mum anyway.’ He pointed at my glass. ‘You not having that?’

‘Not really my tipple.’

‘Hand it over then.’

I slid my glass to his side of the desk, and he poured the remains into his own.

‘Bob, then?’ I asked.

‘He’s being questioned by “Complaints
”
as we speak. Different police station.’

‘You find his hiding place?’

Hobbs nodded. ‘Right where you said.’

‘What did you find?’

‘Diaries. He logged all his deals. The entries were all in some kind of shorthand code, but the amounts were in our English pounds. I’m sure “Complaints” will be able to tie it in.’

I paused, waiting for the resolve to arrive. When I finally spoke I kept the emotion from my voice. ‘Was my Dad in on it?’

‘That’ll be for “Complaints” to decide.’ His voice went up a tone at the end. ‘I think he certainly knew about it.’

‘I’m hearing a “but”?’

Hobbs finished his drink. ‘Along with the diaries we found some interesting bank statements in your dad’s name. Seems Bob Jones was nothing if not scrupulous in his corruption. He set aside one half of everything he made and deposited it in a separate account for your old man.’ He drummed the table and said, ‘Not one withdrawal.’

I felt a big smile breaking out on my face. ‘I’m rich then?’

‘You wish,’ he said. ‘It’s a big irony, though.’

‘What is?’

‘Without the diaries and statements as evidence it would be impossible to put together a case against him. I think the only reason he kept all those records was to prove to your dad he wasn’t cheating him.’

‘But Dad never took a penny?’

‘No.’ He looked right at me. ‘Like I say, it’s up to “Complaints”, but I think your dad stayed out of it. He just turned a blind eye to what was going on.’ He collected the whisky bottle and glasses and put them away. ‘I need to get on. But I’ll do my best to keep your dad’s name out of it.’

I doffed my head at him. ‘Much obliged.’

Hobbs leaned over and swung the office door open. ‘Mr Greene, you are free to go.’

I smiled. ‘Never a police station built that could hold–’

‘–Eddie G. I know.’ He flicked the cap off a biro on his desk. ‘Now beat it.’

I picked up the confession slip. ‘Can I take this? Souvenir.’

‘Sure. It’s just a copy.’ He pointed his pen tip at me. ‘Promise me you’ll keep out of Cartwright’s way.’

‘I won’t go lookin’ for him, if that’s what you mean.’ I stood up. ‘Best I can do.’

‘I remember.’

I walked over to the door and stopped. ‘You knew all along it wasn’t me, right?’

‘Of course,’ said Hobbs. ‘But we don’t always work on guilt around here. Remember that.’

I scrawled a finger across my chest. ‘Gettin’ it tattooed, right here.’

‘Good.’

I stepped out of his office and pulled the door with me. But before closing it, I curled my head back around the door. ‘A promise for a promise then, Chief?

He half-turned on the swivel chair, his hand hovering guiltily over the cabinet key. ‘Yes?’

‘Go easy on the firewater.’

Hobbs smiled. ‘Go away.’

I did.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Sunday – 23:53

Throwing off the hangdog tiredness, I left Hobbs’ office and bounded through the police station like I was on a pair of custom-made blade runners. I kept expecting everyone to turn and admire the new sheriff in town, that they’d all rush forward and want a glimpse of my shiny new badge. But no one did. Ain’t they stinkers?

After stopping by the front desk, I tried to send a nifty text to Kate, but my phone still wasn’t working. I made a mental note not to go jet skiing again without a wetsuit. But phone or no phone, nothing was going to stop me from springing the joint. I emerged through large, reinforced doors and took a huge gulp of fresh Weighton air. Standing on the top step, I raised my arms to the sky in a mock Rocky
salute, and ... well, what can I tell you? It hurt. At that moment I even looked like him …
after
twelve rounds.

I took another breath before descending, but the air escaped in a rush when I saw the all-too-familiar panzer-wagon parked a little way down Bath Street. I stood still and watched Jimmy and Tommy get out of the car. Jimmy strolled over towards the steps, with Tommy lumbering along behind, struggling to keep up. He looked like he was in pain. Hey Noodles, welcome to my world.

Keeping my stance on higher ground and staying within screaming distance of the police station, I waited for the pair to rock up to the bottom of the steps. I noticed the padding around Tommy’s midriff. He looked pale and sore, but you couldn’t fault his work ethic.