Broken Silence (17 page)

Brady didn’t say anything. He knew things were bad for Kate, but he just hadn’t realised how bad.

Brady realised from her breathing that she was silently crying.

‘What about friends? Surely there’s someone you know who would put you up for a few days?’ Brady quietly asked.

‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘What Jimmy’s done to me is embarrassing enough without the humiliation of having to share it. He’s had too many affairs. Too many for my friends to have any sympathy left, not now. For years everybody I know, especially Evelyn, has been telling me to leave him. God, Jack, why did I get involved with him? Why?’ she asked.

Brady couldn’t answer her. Only Kate knew the answer to that question. All he could do was offer her a place to lie low until he had sorted out whatever mess Matthews had got himself involved in. The problem was he still cared too much about Kate to walk the other way.

‘Go to my place. You should be safe there.’

‘I … I don’t know, Jack,’ she answered. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea me staying at your place.’

‘Just do as I say, please? Kate, you really haven’t got much time.’

‘On the condition you tell me what’s going on?’

‘I promise,’ answered Brady. ‘But not now. Later.’

‘OK, but you’d better.’

‘Don’t answer the door to anyone. Understand?’

‘I’m not an idiot!’

‘And Kate?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m sorry about before … with Evie. I don’t know what came over me,’ Brady said.

Brady waited for an answer. He then realised that Kate had hung up.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Brady replied, knowing what Conrad was thinking.

‘Didn’t say there was, sir,’ Conrad answered evenly.
‘However, your girlfriend might get a surprise when Matthews’ wife and kid turn up.’

‘Bugger,’ muttered Brady.

He’d completely forgotten about Sleeping Beauty.

Brady had no other option. He had to pay Madley a visit. He checked his watch. It was just after 2.40 pm. It would make him late for his meeting with Wolfe, the Home Office pathologist, but he had no other choice.

Madley’s office was on the first floor above The Blue Lagoon nightclub and Brady was certain that was where he’d find him.

‘This won’t take long,’ Brady said to Conrad before he got out of the car.

Brady walked up to the nightclub and banged on the locked glass doors.

A cleaner stopped wiping down the tables and timidly came over and mouthed in broken English that the place was closed.

Brady pulled out his ID and placed it against the glass.

The young woman nervously looked behind her and called out to someone.

Brady couldn’t make out the words, but they sounded East European. He watched as two heavies appeared out of the shadows.

‘What?’ grunted one of the men as he unlocked the doors.

‘I’m here to see Madley,’ bluntly answered Brady.

‘He’s busy,’ replied the same brutish hulk as he scowled at Brady.

‘Detective Inspector Brady. You’ll find he’s expecting me.’

Before they had a chance to reply he pushed his way through the two men.

‘Hey? Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ shouted the shorter, uglier thug.

‘To see Madley,’ replied Brady as he made his way towards the emergency doors at the back of the club.

‘You can’t do that!’ replied the shorter brute in surprise.

‘Watch me,’ muttered Brady as he pushed through the doors setting off the alarm.

Brady reached Madley’s office door only to be greeted by two more loutish bouncer-types.

‘DI Brady,’ he stated holding out his ID card.

Brady knew the procedure and allowed himself to be frisked. The fact that he was a copper meant he couldn’t be trusted. The police had been after Madley for years. Brady had to prove that he wasn’t dangerous in any way before he’d be allowed in to ‘talk’ to the big boss.

‘What took you so long, Jack?’ greeted Madley as Brady limped into the huge room.

Brady would have recognised Madley’s distinct Geordie twang anywhere, even with the rough edges gone. Madley was stood with his back to the impressive ceiling to floor window. He frowned as he watched Brady painfully make his way towards him.

‘You sure you didn’t start back too soon?’

‘You know me, Martin, I can take it,’ Brady answered as he limped across the polished oak floor towards the window.

It was hard not to notice what Madley’s nefarious business dealings had paid for; his large office was kitted out
with the finest antiques. Brady didn’t know much, but he recognised money. Not bad for a lad from the Ridges, he mused.

‘Scotch?’ Madley asked.

Brady shook his head.

‘Not drinking? Things must be bad,’ stated Madley.

‘For Jimmy it seems,’ Brady answered.

Madley’s glinting brown eyes narrowed suspiciously.

He was the same age as Brady but three inches shorter with a smaller frame. However, his tanned, sharp features and menacing eyes warned the hardest nut not to mess with him. His dark brown hair was neatly cut and his clothes were expensive. He wore no jewellery, apart from an expensive watch, which cost more than Brady’s annual salary. They had shared a childhood together; if it could be called that. Madley had always looked out for him, up until the point Brady and his younger brother had been put into a children’s home. After that, Brady had considered himself lucky to even see anyone he recognised, including his brother, as he was shunted from one foster home to another throughout the North East. Both Brady and Madley had the same backgrounds, both had chosen a life of crime; Brady fighting it, Madley living it.

‘What the fuck’s going on, Martin? Why are you so interested in Jimmy?’

Madley turned and looked out of the window.

They stood in silence for a few moments watching the scavenging seagulls screeching over the remnants of a Thursday night in Whitley Bay. Curried chips and a half-eaten kebab were strewn across the pavement below, while pizza boxes and empty beer bottles littered the promenade.

‘Because he’s a copper. A bent copper at that,’ Madley finally answered.

Brady looked uncertain as he thought it over.

‘I would have thought a bent copper would be in your favour?’

Madley turned and looked Brady straight in the eye.

‘You’re right, up to the point he thought he could fuck me over,’ Madley stated menacingly.

‘Is it drugs?’ Brady asked, worried for Matthews.

Madley was well-known for being one of the North East’s major drug dealers, but still the police couldn’t finger him. Anyone CID got close to always ended up dead before they had a chance to talk.

‘Is that what Matthews has on you?’ Brady questioned, unsure of whether he actually wanted to hear the answer.

Madley smiled, baring his perfectly straight white teeth.

‘Do you really think I’m going to tell you, Jack? You’re a copper and always will be.’

Brady looked out of the window. The horizon was a mute grey, matching the depressing sea.

‘I need to find Jimmy, that’s all. But I can’t get hold of him. Seems he’s trying to avoid you.’

‘What makes you think Jimmy’s hiding from me?’

‘Gibbs and that new sidekick of his for starters. It’s hard not to notice those two when they’re sat outside Jimmy’s house.’

Madley smiled as he shook his head.

‘I’ll leave it to Jimmy to fill you in on what he’s done, Jack.’

Brady let it go.

‘I see he’s still with you then?’ Madley said as he gestured towards Conrad’s parked car.

‘Yeah,’ muttered Brady. ‘He’s a good bloke to have around.’

‘Must be,’ said Madley. ‘What about Claudia?’

Brady shook his head dejectedly as he stared at the blackening horizon.

‘No … nothing …’

Madley shrugged.

‘Give her time, Jack.’

Brady nodded as he thought it over.

‘Martin?’

‘Yeah?’

‘If you track him down, let me talk to him?’ Brady asked.

Madley narrowed his glinting brown eyes as he weighed up what Brady was asking.

‘I’ve got to find the bastard first.’

Brady waited until he was outside before calling Matthews. Still no answer.

‘You stupid bugger, Jimmy,’ Brady said under his breath.

The only thing he could do was keep his head down and get on with the investigation in the vain hope that Matthews would see sense and contact him before Gibbs and his sidekick got hold of him.

‘Pull over,’ Brady instructed, suddenly realising they were already on Tynemouth Front Street. And he was late. It was after 3.44 pm.

He had been preoccupied with his conversation with Madley and his insight into Matthews, who still wasn’t answering any of his calls, despite Brady leaving explicit messages to get back to him ASAP.

‘Should have guessed,’ Conrad said as he noted Wolfe’s racing green vintage MG parked opposite The Turk’s Head. ‘I take it that Wolfe’s expecting me as well?’

Brady raised his eyebrow at him. They both knew the score.

‘Actually, I want you to attend this afternoon’s press conference on my behalf, while I go over the post-mortem findings with Wolfe.’

The last place Brady wanted to be was sat before a room of journalists baying for blood. And he didn’t want that blood to be Matthews', or his come to that. The journalist at the crime scene had unnerved him when she had asked outright if Matthews’ suspension from the investigation was connected in any way to the murder. He definitely didn’t want to be held to ransom by her at the press conference.
And given that it had only been six months since Brady himself had made the front pages when he had been shot, he didn’t want his failed undercover drugs bust coming up either.

‘There is only one slight problem, sir. Gates is expecting you,’ Conrad reminded him.

Exactly, thought Brady. That in itself was a good enough reason. Gates was starting to get antsy about Matthews. Things were starting to turn from bad to worse. He now had confirmation that the victim had spent the hours leading up to her death with Matthews’ daughter. This was news that he’d have to relay to the rest of the team at the briefing later. What worried him was that it made Matthews’ behaviour at the crime scene, and now his sudden disappearance, all the more problematic. And right now, after his talk with Madley, Brady didn’t want to be answering any awkward questions; either from the press or his boss.

‘Tell Gates that I’ll report back to him as soon as I’ve finished with Wolfe,’ Brady instructed.

‘Yes sir, but he won’t be happy,’ answered Conrad.

‘He never bloody is where I’m concerned, so it won’t make much difference, will it?’

‘What about getting back to the station?’

‘I’ll get Wolfe to drive me. Maybe I’ll even go home and pick up my own car,’ Brady replied.

‘I don’t think you’d get very far. Do you, sir?’

Brady automatically looked down. Conrad was right. His leg was buggered and there was no way he could use it; every time he put pressure on it he felt as if someone was giving him electric shock treatment, straight up his left inner thigh to his balls. No, he’d have to make do with charity for now.

‘I’m under orders from DCI Gates to be your chaperon for the next few weeks, sir. Until you settle back in, so to speak,’ Conrad stated uncomfortably.

Bloody great, thought Brady. He needed to get back into Matthews’ house later and the last person he wanted witnessing his break-in was Conrad. He didn’t want to involve Conrad any more than he had to.

‘Conrad? Not a word about my visit to Madley.’

‘There’s nothing to tell, sir,’ answered Conrad.

Brady got out of the car. He steeled himself for his update with Wolfe. If his hunch was right, the post-mortem would have uncovered a darker side to Sophie’s life.

Brady breathed in the lingering stale smell of alcohol and furniture polish as he walked into the pub.

He nodded respectfully at the one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old collie dog, lying immortalised in a glass display box mounted against the wall. This was The Turk’s Head, otherwise known affectionately by the locals as The Stuffed Dog for obvious reasons.

‘You’re late, laddie!’

Brady smiled to himself. He would recognise that wheezy gruff accent anywhere. Despite having worked in the North East for years he still hadn’t lost the rough edges of his northern Scottish tongue. He turned to see Wolfe.

‘It’s been one of those days,’ Brady apologised.

‘Tell me about it!’ Wolfe wheezed. ‘Just finished with that girl of yours and they’ve already put someone else on bloody ice for me. And I’ve got three more before I get to him. It’s like a damned conveyor belt.’

Brady raised his eyebrows.

‘A floater. Dragged out the Tyne about two hours ago.’

‘Jumped or pushed?’

Matthews’ problem with Madley was still niggling him.
He knew what Madley was capable of and that worried him.

‘Why are you so interested?’ Wolfe asked. ‘Haven’t you already got your hands full with the murdered girl?’

‘Just the copper in me.’

‘I’d say suicide,’ answered Wolfe. ‘But can’t say for sure until I’ve had a proper look.’

Relieved, Brady nodded. He was keenly aware that Matthews’ disappearance was starting to make him paranoid. He tried to relax and put his concerns about Matthews to the back of his mind.

‘Do you want another pint?’ Brady asked, heading for the bar.

‘I want a smoke. That’s what I want. Bloody ridiculous, at my time of life I shouldn’t have to freeze my bollocks off just to have a ciggy,’ Wolfe wheezed.

Brady frowned as he watched Wolfe suddenly gasp for breath.

‘Just need a ciggy, that’s all,’ he wheezed breathlessly as he bent forward and thumped his chest.

Wolfe shot Brady a questioning look when he returned with a soft drink.

‘So, are you going to spit it out?’ Wolfe asked, eyeing Brady suspiciously. ‘I’ve known you a long time, laddie, and I’ve never seen you off your drink. Not a healthy sign if you want my medical opinion.’