Brothers' Tears (11 page)

The biggest danger is that you can begin to feel impregnable. Overconfidence is an Achilles heel for many men who live by violence.

Peter Coleman regarded DCI Peach with a smile flicking at the edges of his mouth. ‘I don't know why you think I would involve myself in violence. Those days are long behind me. I was a wild lad, I admit, until I saw the error of my ways. I've now got myself a respectable job and a respectable wife.'

He couldn't resist brandishing his wife, that elegant creature they had recently left in the huge house her money had bought for them. But men were vulnerable through their women, as they were through anything for which they cared. Peach said, ‘A rich wife, not a respectable one. You know where Linda's money comes from, so you shouldn't make that mistake.'

‘Linda knows what she's doing. You shouldn't be jealous because she runs successful shops in the town.'

‘Successful shop fronts. You know as well as anyone that she's laundering money from very different enterprises. Drugs and prostitution, principally, with you providing the necessary muscle.'

‘You'll never make that stick. I should be recording this. You'd think twice about saying these things, if I was.'

But Coleman was rattled, in spite of his words. His broad, coarse-featured face was flickering with anger, even as he sought an easy defiance. Peach said, ‘I'm sure DS Northcott has a cassette machine in the car, if you'd really like to have this on record. I don't think your brief would advise it. But we're not quite at the brief stage. Not yet.'

A bulldozer started outside, its powerful engine even more raucous in the silence of the hut, which shook a little as the machine began to move earth and stone which had been compacted by centuries of anonymous feet. Coleman said, ‘I should be directing that machine. I told you, I've got better things to do than waste my time in here with you.'

‘We know you killed James O'Connor.'

If he'd been rattled earlier, he was even more so now. Instead of denying it, he resorted to the villain's more desperate tactic. ‘You'll never prove that.'

‘We can and we will.'

‘And who's going to stand up in court and say so? Get real, Peach.'

‘I wouldn't dream of telling you that. I'm not giving you any targets for the sort of violence you deal in.'

‘You're bluffing, Peach. I can see it a mile off.'

‘Your vehicle was spotted. They're necessary evils, cars, don't you think? You need them to get there and get away swiftly afterwards, but they can be a dead giveaway once they're spotted.'

‘You're bluffing, Peach,' he said again. ‘I'd like you to fuck off out of it now. I've seen enough of you for one day.' But his tongue flicked quickly over his thick, dry lips. He was more used to threatening than to being threatened and he was very worried.

‘Don't leave the area without giving us an address, please. But you'll find there isn't anywhere to run to, with murder on your hands.'

Coleman moved towards Peach as he stood up and turned away, causing Clyde Northcott to utter his only words of the meeting. ‘Don't even think about it, Coleman! Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give you the sort of beating you've dished out so often to others.'

The hard bastard had his uses, thought both policemen, as they removed their car from the path of the bulldozer.

Sarah O'Connor switched the lights on in the front room of the house, the dining room which was now rarely used. The police were working late on Friday night, but the dead man's widow wasn't going to give them any kudos for that. Instead, she said, ‘I've been told I can't organise James's funeral yet. There will be a lot of people coming over from Ireland for it. Can you give me a date when the body will be released?'

DS Lucy Peach assessed her carefully. You had to be careful with grieving widows, but this one looked strong enough to take the truth. ‘I'm afraid we can't, as yet. When we make an arrest, the defence solicitor will have the right to ask for a second post-mortem, if he thinks it might help his case. I think it is unlikely that he or she will do so in this case, but until the question is answered we cannot release the body. I know this is difficult, because the family needs to feel closure, but we do not have any choice in the matter.'

Lucy Peach watched the widow nod thoughtfully. She was doing her best to divine what this cool woman with the shining, freshly washed black hair was thinking, but not having much success. Percy had said it would be useful to have another opinion on the widow other than his own when he had been allowed to add Lucy to his team. She was surprised that he wasn't pursuing someone so close to the victim himself, as he usually did. Percy hadn't told her about Linda Coleman's scarcely veiled threats in connection with Lucy's child prostitution enquiries, which had shaken him more than he cared to admit even to himself.

Lucy glanced at Brendan Murphy and the DC seized his cue. ‘I believe DCI Peach told you that we would need to speak to you again after we'd made other enquiries.' Sarah nodded coolly, assessing this fresh-faced young man and feeling that her considerably greater experience of life would give her the edge on him. As if he felt the stress of her judgement, he added, ‘I should emphasize that you are helping the police voluntarily with this investigation.'

‘As a good citizen should.' A smile spread her mouth wide as she nodded. ‘I am well aware of the requirements of the law and of my duties as a citizen. I caught your name when DS Peach introduced you. You must surely be Irish yourself, with a name like that.'

‘I'm afraid not. My roots are certainly Irish, but I've never lived outside Lancashire and never even visited Eire.' It was an explanation it seemed to Brendan he would have to make for the rest of his life. He tried not to show that he was well used to it.

‘Don't be apologetic. I'm thoroughly English myself, but people often assume I'm from Ireland because of my marriage to Jim.' She stiffened a little as she turned towards DS Peach. ‘I am anxious to have this matter cleared up as quickly as possible.'

This seemed to Lucy cold and formal phrasing for a woman who should have been stricken by the death of her husband. ‘We know quite a lot more now than when DCI Peach spoke to you on Wednesday. We are moving towards an arrest, but we need to make sure we have the evidence to make a case stick before we prefer charges.'

‘A curious expression that, I always think. I expect it's archaic, like much of the language of the law.'

She seemed to be demonstrating how in control of herself she was, how free she felt not only from guilt but from other emotions also. Lucy spoke firmly. ‘In the aftermath of a serious crime like this, we have a large team and we follow the movements of many people. Most of this work produces nothing useful, but occasionally we discover something significant. That justifies the measures we take and the resources we allot to them.'

Mrs O'Connor looked at the small gold watch on her wrist, not troubling to disguise her impatience. ‘I'm sure it does. Is this leading up to something?'

DC Murphy flicked open his notebook as Lucy said, ‘I'm afraid it is. Forgive me if this sounds impertinent. You were followed last night as you drove out of Brunton.'

Sarah paused for a moment, determined not to reveal any emotion. ‘A blue BMW is not the most inconspicuous of vehicles, I suppose. Does this mean I am under police surveillance?'

‘No. It was a random sighting by one of our officers. It was his own initiative that made him follow you.'

She nodding, assessing the information and its implications. ‘He was good: I'd no idea that he was following me. That is if it was a he – we all have to be careful about gender nowadays, don't we? I expect he followed me to the Grouse Inn.'

‘It was a he, and he did.' Lucy tried not to smile at the notion of Clyde Northcott as a female. ‘He saw who came to meet you there.'

‘My brother-in-law. Scarcely an unusual meeting, for a woman who lost her husband three nights earlier.'

‘But an unusual and remote place to meet. Almost as if you wished to keep the assignation a secret one.'

The broad brow furrowed as Sarah O'Connor showed her irritation for the first time. ‘This is like living in a police state. Do I have to account for my every movement?'

‘I'm sorry. I agree this is unusual and I can't force you to answer. But a murder investigation is by definition unusual. We are usually given a little more latitude, so long as it is clear that we are in pursuit of the truth.'

‘And I would be regarded as obstructive if I chose not to answer your questions. It's a form of blackmail, isn't it?'

‘It's not intended to be. Try to look at it from our point of view. We want to find the truth about everything. Ninety per cent of it will be irrelevant to the enquiry and will be discarded. You can't expect us to know which ten per cent will be relevant – even crucial.'

Sarah looked at the younger woman, wondering if she was more prepared to accept these explanations from a woman than she would have been from a man. Probably, she thought. She was sure she would have been more brusque with DC Murphy if he'd been offering her these thoughts. She said abruptly, ‘I didn't initiate that cloak-and-dagger meeting last night. It was Dominic who said when and where he wanted to see me.'

DS Lucy Peach nodded, as if this was exactly what she had expected. ‘And what was the purpose of this conference?'

She took a deep breath and looked at a point on the carpet exactly between her two CID visitors. ‘Dominic thinks he knows who killed Jim. He wanted to check out a few things with me.'

Saturdays are quiet in police stations. The price of freedom is eternal vigilance, more now than it has ever been, so the law has to be upheld for seven days a week as well as twenty-four hours a day. But coppers like their weekends as much as other mortals, so that there is but a skeleton staff in the buildings on Saturdays and Sundays, even with a murder investigation in full swing.

The CID section was almost deserted at ten o'clock on this Saturday morning, when Lucy Peach and Brendan Murphy conferred with the man in charge of the investigation and his bagman. There was a little tension between Lucy, who had been at Percy's side for several years, and Clyde Northcott who had now replaced her. Curiosity rather than tension, Lucy corrected herself; Clyde had been Percy's best man at their wedding and she had a huge respect for him. So she was merely anxious to see how Clyde was making out. But a small, unworthy part of her did not want him to be successful, did not want him to obliterate the memories of the cases Percy had conducted with her at his side. That was extremely petty, Lucy admitted to herself; perhaps she should get on with creating that baby and making her mother happy.

Percy said with some distaste, ‘There are all sorts of things going on here as well as murder.' Peach liked things tidy. When you were investigating the most serious crime of all, you should be able to concentrate on it without the distractions of drugs and gambling and prostitution and all the subsidiary violence which accompanies them.

Lucy said, ‘There's going to be a big case coming up about the procuring of minors for prostitution. Asian men have been raiding council homes in search of defenceless girls. Not just here but all over the north-west. These kids have been subjected to unspeakable degradation and repeated rapes. Our team is assembling more and more evidence. We'll be ready to present the case within weeks. It could happen now, but we want to get the big boys who are financing this as well as the men who've been procuring minors and arranging their clients.'

Percy nodded. ‘The money's coming from the drug barons. They're expanding their enterprises, diversifying into other criminal businesses, as if they were legitimate entrepreneurs. They're dangerous men – and women.' He couldn't forget the image of Linda Coleman's smile as she casually informed him that she knew all about Lucy's pursuit of the young Pakistanis involved in this.

Clyde Northcott said, ‘All this is muddying the waters around James O'Connor and his death. We know that he was moving further and further into local crime, but he covered his tracks well. He had successful legitimate businesses. His paper mills supply stationery and packing materials to some very big companies, and his betting shops and casinos appear to be perfectly legal earners. But he liked takeovers and it seems he was quite unscrupulous about what he acquired: so long as it was profitable, he was interested.'

Peach nodded. ‘We have to be aware of that, because it is what surrounds our crime. But beyond that, we can be blinkered. Other teams are investigating the prostitution of minors and the sale of illegal drugs. Our concern is to determine who killed James O'Connor. Because there is so much other crime around this, questioning suspects is difficult. Too many of the people our team has spoken to have previous dealings with the police and are determined to reveal as little as possible.'

Lucy said quietly, ‘The victim's widow says her brother-in-law can help us. She thinks Dominic O'Connor has vital information about James's death.'

Northcott said, ‘I've been trying to contact him all morning, but there's no reply from his land line and his mobile's switched off.'

Peach frowned. ‘I think you and I had better get out to his house this afternoon and see what he has to say for himself, Clyde.'

Dominic O'Connor lived on the northern outskirts of the town, not far from the road which ran out into the Ribble Valley and some of the finest country in England. Percy Peach, who had walked and biked through most of the area as boy and youth, was fond of telling anyone who would listen that there was no large town in the two hundred miles between Brunton and Glasgow.

They moved along an unpaved lane, past humble cottages which had been built here around 1850, well before the grander residences which had followed them. The younger O'Connor's dwelling was a solid detached house, late Victorian or Edwardian, in the smooth red Accrington brick which characterised the best local buildings of that era. It was less grand than the house of his dead elder brother, but it had a splendid view across the valley, over the once busy railway lines to the steep slopes opposite. There the North Lancs golf course, where Percy took his exercise, stretched away towards the wilder moorland beyond.