Blind Alley (32 page)

Fuck! Phone!

Brady picked up his mobile and looked at the identity of the caller, expecting it to be Conrad. It was Madley.

Brady sat up.

What the hell would Madley be doing calling him?

It made no sense but there was only one way to find out.

‘Yeah?’ Brady answered. Short and succinct.

‘You took your time. What were you doing? Busy trying to put a trace on the call?’ Madley asked, laughing.

It was an insincere, cold laugh.

‘What do you want, Martin? If I remember rightly you told me to keep clear of you and your business associates.’

‘Come on, Jack. It’s not like you to take things personally. You should know me better than that. Bad day at the office and I’m an absolute bastard to be around.’

Brady was not buying it.

The false camaraderie was made worse by the fact that Madley had done everything in his power to avoid Brady. Then there was the question of Munroe. It hung heavy in the air between them.

Madley had after all walked into Whitley Bay station with the best lawyer money could buy to ensure the release of his employee. An employee who then went on to murder one of Madley’s small problems – Eddie Jones. Prior to that, he had beaten Trina McGuire so savagely that she was unrecognisable. Then he had raped her.

‘It’s not like you to be so sullen. Not after you nailed Jake Munroe. Two for one deal, eh? Good for you. Always knew you had it in you.’

Brady didn’t reply. He didn’t like the tone of Madley’s voice or where the conversation seemed to be heading.

‘I didn’t realise what kind of bloke I had working for me. You can’t get the staff these days. No matter how much you vet, something always comes up and bites you in the arse,’ Madley mused.

Again, Brady remained silent. Whatever Madley was dangling, Brady was not biting.

‘I thought we could have a chat like the good old days.’

‘I haven’t got time for this,’ Brady replied.

‘What? My company not good enough for you now, Jack? Is that it?’

Brady had no idea why Madley was goading him. It was out of character. At least where he was concerned. However, he had seen Madley in action before. He could be as cruel and ruthless as a cat playing with a trapped mouse.

‘You can’t hold me responsible for Jake Munroe’s actions.’

Brady was about to speak. But Madley beat him to it.

‘Anyway, you should be more interested in Ronnie Macmillan than Munroe. He’s dead. Stabbed repeatedly in the neck,’ Madley stated. It was chillingly clinical.

‘What the—’

But before Brady could finish, the line had been cut.

His head was spinning.

Why the fuck had Madley called to tell him that? But he knew why.

Brady took a deep intake of breath as he steadied himself.

He felt nothing but relief. The bastard deserved everything he got – and more.

Brady suddenly thought of Ronnie’s estranged brother, Mayor Macmillan. He wondered whether he knew and if so, what he had made of the news? Brady imagined that there would be an element of relief for him as well. After all, Ronnie Macmillan had the potential to damage a lot of people. From the day he had been arrested he hadn’t talked. Brady thought about the obvious. Had someone silenced him before he found his voice?

Brady didn’t even question how Madley knew such a fact. He had contacts everywhere; both on the inside and out. And he knew Madley was telling the truth. He wasn’t a liar – never had been.

It didn’t take long before Brady came crashing down. Madley’s news took on a new dimension when Jimmy Matthews rang him. It had taken Brady by surprise, since Matthews was inside Durham prison.

‘What took you so long?’ Matthews hissed.

Brady realised from the heavy breathing that Matthews had his hand cupped around the mouthpiece. It was a survival strategy. If the other inmates knew he was talking to a copper, he would be dead. The fact that he wasn’t already dead was a feat in itself. Most bent coppers who end up on the inside rarely come out the other end. Matthews had even had an attempt made on his life six months ago – a good old-fashioned biro in the neck.

‘I was in the shower. How did I know you were going to call?’ Brady answered.

Since Matthews’s life-threatening injury, Brady had made a point of visiting him every two or three weeks. They shared a friendship that spanned twenty years. Most of that time had been served in the force together. All that had evaporated when Brady had been forced to arrest him. That was over a year ago and it had taken Matthews nearly dying for Brady to lose some of his anger and sense of betrayal.

‘Jack, I need to see you. Now.’

‘Come on, Jimmy. You’re having a laugh. How would I get a visiting pass for today? It’s too short notice.’

‘I’ve already sorted it,’ Matthews said, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer.

Brady didn’t need to ask exactly how Matthews had sorted it. Matthews had always been involved in various shenanigans, which is how he ended up as a bent copper. He just never knew when to stop.

‘Bloody hell! I don’t know . . .’

‘Ronnie Macmillan’s dead.’

‘I know.’

‘How the fuck would you know that? The place is in turmoil. It’s in lock-down mode.’

Brady realised then that Matthews wouldn’t be on the inmates’ payphone. The inmates would all be locked in their cells. After all, Macmillan had shared the same wing as Matthews. Both of them had been segregated from the main prison population for their own safety. Macmillan, like Matthews, had enemies. It didn’t matter that one was a copper and the other a gangster; both had pissed enough people off to warrant being attacked.

No. Matthews must be on a mobile phone. The guards wouldn’t have known about it. Otherwise it would have been confiscated. Inmates had various ways of smuggling banned substances and objects into prison. Most of them came in through the back passage.

Brady realised in that moment Matthews must have been scared shitless to have risked ringing him on a mobile. Especially when every cell in his wing would no doubt be in the process of being searched. The guards would be looking for whatever weapon had been used to stab Ronnie Macmillan. That was, if they didn’t already have it in their possession. A Self Honed Implement of Violence, otherwise known as a shiv, could be made out of anything found in a prison. Matthews had been attacked with a sharpened biro but toothbrushes, spoons, any seemingly innocuous object could be deadly.

‘Who killed him, Jimmy?’ Brady asked.

Brady wasn’t an idiot. This was why Matthews wanted to talk to him. He was scared. There were two possibilities: either Matthews had killed Ronnie Macmillan; or the more plausible scenario was that he had witnessed another inmate kill him.

‘That’s why I need to talk to you.’

That was as far as Matthews got before the line went dead.

Brady listened to the dial tone.

Matthews had left him no option.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Brady kept his head down. He still wondered what the hell he was doing in Durham prison: a maximum security prison at that. He had gone through the humiliation of having a body search. Nothing intimate. Otherwise Brady’s reaction would have found him banged up alongside Matthews. But Brady could tell that the shit had most definitely hit the fan. The guards were on edge. No surprise. An inmate had been killed on their watch. Heads would roll – that was a given.

Brady had been taken through countless security gates until he reached the visitors’ room. It was a large, soulless space filled with an air of desperation that clung to the dented tables and chairs. But primarily it clung to the occupants.

He could see Matthews sitting on his own in the corner. He looked nervous. Agitated even. Brady caught his eye. Relief filled Matthews’s face.

Brady tried to hide his surprise when he sat down opposite Matthews. He looked like shit. He had dropped a lot of weight. His long hands drummed on the table nervously, while his eyes shone with a feverish madness as he surreptitiously looked around the large room. His brown hair was matted with a sheen of sweat covering his pale, clammy forehead. He looked like a man who was about to be shot.

‘Hey, Jimmy. How you doing?’

‘Cut the crap, Jack. I look like shit. I feel like shit,’ Matthews answered as he stared at Brady’s face. ‘What the fuck happened to you?’

Brady automatically touched the left side of his jaw. It still ached like hell but at least it wasn’t broken. And he could move it now without too much pain. The cut above his eye had started to heal. It was just the mottled bruising that made it look worse than it actually felt.

‘Ran head-on into someone’s fist. Repeatedly,’ Brady said with a lame grin.

‘Same old Jack Brady, eh?’ Matthews stated. ‘What is it about you not being able to keep out of trouble?’

Brady shrugged.

He waited for Matthews to tell him why he was here on his day off.

‘Macmillan—’ Matthews began in a low, conspiratorial voice.

Brady waited for him to finish.

Instead Matthews looked around the room.

‘Macmillan?’ Brady prompted.

‘Do you know who had him murdered?’ Matthews asked.

‘I’ve got some ideas,’ he answered.

Matthews looked at him as if he was an idiot. ‘You have no fucking idea!’

‘Do you know who did it then?’

Matthews nodded. ‘Martin Madley.’

‘Don’t take the piss,’ Brady hissed at him. ‘Fucking Madley’s not here is he?’

Brady sat back. He couldn’t believe that Matthews still had it in for Madley. He wondered if he would ever let it go. After all, it was Matthews who tried to stitch Madley up – not the other way around.

‘For fuck’s sake! No one knows better than me Madley’s not in here. But one of his men is!’

‘Who?’ Brady asked.

‘Bastard named Munroe. Jake Munroe. Arrived late last night. Evil fucker.’

Brady felt winded. He tried not to let it show. He failed.

Matthews nodded at Brady’s reaction.

‘Yeah? Police charged him yesterday for rape and murder. He’s inside for less than twelve hours and he’s already butchered Ronnie Macmillan.’

‘How do you know he did it?’ Brady asked.

‘Because I fucking witnessed it with my own eyes. That’s how!’

‘Did Munroe see you?’

Brady could understand Matthews’s jittery state. Munroe would take great delight in slicing a bent copper’s throat.

‘Fuck no! Do you think I’d be sat here if he did?’

Brady nodded. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘What do you think? Keep my mouth shut.’

‘So, why tell me?’ Brady asked.

‘Two reasons. If something happens to me, then you know who’s responsible. And I wanted you to know that Madley was behind this.’

‘What the fuck does Madley get out of silencing Ronnie Macmillan? Macmillan had no information on Madley. Madley refused to go into business with him if I remember correctly.’

‘For a copper you’re not very bright,’ Matthews said, his voice thick with irritation.

Brady didn’t say anything.

‘Munroe turns up. Word is he’s one of Johnny Slaughter’s boys. He kills Ronnie Macmillan at the first opportunity that arises. No hesitation or deliberation. Stab! Stab! Stab! Macmillan’s dead before he even knows it. But crucially, it’s before Macmillan gets a chance to find out that Munroe worked for Madley. If Macmillan had known that, Munroe wouldn’t have lasted an hour inside.’

Brady sat for a moment. He needed to make sense of what Matthews had just said.

‘Why the fuck do you think Munroe let you lot catch him? He’s a nasty fucker and he’s clever. He could easily have eluded you. You should be asking yourself why didn’t he? Why didn’t he run? Why give it to you on a plate? The films on YouTube? The identifiable scar across his scalp? The black panther going down his right arm? Why give it to you by filming himself?’

Brady looked surprised that Matthews knew this level of detail about the case.

‘Fucking hell, Jack! This isn’t a Russian prison. We have TVs and computers in here. And I was a copper once, remember?’

Brady was silent for a moment. Matthews’s eyes burned as he waited for Brady to speak. He was desperate for Brady to believe him.

‘So you’re saying that he wanted to be arrested and charged?’

Matthews nodded. ‘Exactly.’

It made sense. Brady had already wondered why Munroe had left a bloody trail to his own back door. It smacked of stupidity. And Munroe was far from stupid.

‘So he gets arrested. But who’s to say he would end up in the same prison as Macmillan?’ Brady asked. The odds of that happening were extremely low. Durham prison was not the only maximum security prison in the country.

‘Given the severity of his crimes he had to be put in a prison with this level of security. And he’s in the segregated wing for his own safety. Most of the inmates in here have watched the YouTube film of him raping that woman. A lot of the men in here are thugs. But they’re not animals. Munroe wouldn’t last in the main prison.’