Unfinished Business (18 page)

“He’ll see us, won’t you Matt?” called
that
voice from the past, the one that made his scrotum retreat up into his body.

Matt just nodded resignedly.

Suddenly she was before him, smiling with the confidence of someone who knew he was going to do exactly what she wanted. The large Scotsman was beside her, looking menacing again. There was so much dislike in the man’s eyes that Matt knew Cass had told him about what he’d done, or tried to do. He swallowed hard. The big fucker looked like he could do him some real damage if he so chose.

“Who’s this?” she said, shoving her phone in Matt’s face.

Matt frowned at the photograph of the ugly bald man. “Why are you asking?”

“Do you know him or not?” she said impatiently.

“Course I do. That’s Doug Haines, enforcer for Kyle Johnson.”

“And who’s Kyle Johnson?”

“A scummy drug dealer. Unfortunately he’s got brains as well as a mental side. He runs a tight operation. The police have tried to bring him down but they’ve had no luck so far. Why have you got a picture of Doug on your phone?”

Brodie could practically hear the little worm’s brain ticking over. He was a natural-born ferret who wouldn’t stop until he’d got to the bottom of a story that interested him. Brodie wondered if this had been such a good idea.

“What else do you know about Doug Haines? Where can we find him?” pressed Cass.

“The Target Bar. Most of his crew hang around there looking menacing. Do yourself a favour Cass and avoid him. He’s a really nasty piece of work. The police think he’s connected to the murders of two people.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

He was amazed by her lack of concern. That could only mean one thing - Cassandra Carlisle was used to dealing with bad people. His eyes flicked to the glowering Scotsman again. They weren’t police, if they were they wouldn’t have needed to come to him asking questions. So what were they? The excitement that always gripped him when he sensed a good story took hold of him now. If he’d been a dog his tail would have been wagging and his tongue hanging out. “Come on, what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” replied Cass.

Matt looked to Brodie, eyes sharp and beady. “Your friend’s very quiet.”

“That’s just his way,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest, closing herself off. “He’s not prone to verbal diarrhoea like others I could mention. What else can you tell me about Doug Haines?”

“If you want information Cass you have to give some in return. What’s your interest in Doug Haines?”

She shrugged. “Goodbye Matt.”

“No, wait,” he called when she and the Scotsman started to walk away. “Hang on,” he added when they ignored him.

Muttering an oath, Matt grabbed his jacket and hurried out of the office after them.

“Slow down,” he called. They were both taller than him and striding on ahead. “Wait, let’s discuss it.”

They came to a halt at the door.

“Let’s get a coffee and I’ll tell you everything,” said Matt.

“Why would you do that?” said Brodie, eyes narrowing.

“I want to help.”

“Bollocks, you don’t want to help anyone but yourself,” retorted Cass.

“Ladylike as ever I see,” he said nastily.

“You use that tone with her again and I’ll rip your lips off,” spat Brodie.

Matt was a little taken aback by the aggression in the man’s eyes but this told him two things. One, that Brodie was a man used to using and being around violence and two, that he fancied Cass. It was an over-the-top reaction for a man defending a work colleague. Still, he couldn’t blame him, she looked good.

“This is getting us nowhere,” said Matt. “Let’s sit down like civilised people and have a chat over a coffee. I’m buying.”

Cass looked to Brodie, leaving it to him to decide.

“I know everything there is to know about Haines and Johnson,” he said as an added incentive.

“Alright,” Brodie eventually agreed. “But you say one thing we don’t like and we’re gone.”

“Fair enough,” he replied. Matt was buoyant as they headed to the café around the corner from his office. Cass had initially contacted him about The Carver case, which meant that somehow Doug Haines was tied to it. Did they think he was The Carver? Matt couldn’t see it. Granted, the man was a brutal enforcer, renowned for his savagery but Bamber Gascoigne he was not, he was a grunt who needed Johnson to tell him what to do. Or maybe Johnson was The Carver and Haines was covering for him? Whatever it was, Matt was salivating to know.

They managed to find a quiet table at the back of the cafe where they could talk in peace, Cass and Brodie sitting together in solidarity across the table from Matt. The way Brodie unconsciously tilted his body towards her confirmed Matt’s suspicion that the Scotsman had a crush. He pondered on how he could use that to his advantage.

“Doug Haines came from the shittiest home imaginable,” began Matt, cradling his latte. “Alcoholic parents, abused, neglected, until the day he poured bleach down his mum’s throat when she was passed out on the couch in a drunken stupor when he was fifteen. Lucky for him she survived. He got sent to borstal where he met up with Kyle Johnson. He was in for a violent robbery after he half-killed a father of three and left him brain damaged. Putting those two together only ignited the touch paper and when they were released they were more dangerous than ever. They set up their own gang - Johnson the brains and Haines the heavy who attacked anyone Johnson told him to without question.”

“Why?” said Cass, intrigued.

“My source told me that Johnson saved Haines’s life inside. Haines has a big mouth and he rubbed some people up the wrong way. They attacked him and Johnson saved the day. That’s why Haines is unfailingly loyal, because he owes him his life. People have tried to turn the two of them against each other but failed.” Matt’s eyes flicked between Cass and Brodie as they digested this information. “So,” he eventually said, unable to contain himself any longer, “how did you get hold of a photo of Doug Haines? He’s notoriously camera shy.”

“What business are they in exactly?” said Brodie.

“Drugs, debt collecting, blackmail, robbery, even contract killing, allegedly. DCI Hillyard has made it his mission to bring them down, he’s been trying for years. So far he’s been unsuccessful. Johnson is just too smart, he never leaves a trace behind but he does have a weak spot and that’s his phenomenal temper. Once or twice he’s made a slip up but it wasn’t enough. Push his buttons the right way and you’ll wind him up like a clockwork toy. His temper will be his downfall one day.”

“Where does DS Clarke figure in this, if at all?”

“He’s one of Hillyard’s golden boys and has tried to bring Haines and Johnson down too.”

“Tell us more about Clarke,” said Cass.

“Like what?”

“Everything you know.”

“He’s a good copper, straight. He hates me. Single, no kids, never been married. Too tied to the job for a personal life. Lives for his work. It’s a bit sad really,” he said with a grin that fell as they stared back at him stonily. “Good at what he does, conscientious, already looking for promotion. He’s got ambition.”

“And DCI Hillyard?”

“A bull-headed prick. He hates me too, always tries to chase me off a crime scene. Although I hate to admit it he’s good at his job but sometimes he won’t listen to the opinions of his colleagues because he’s so arrogant. The Carver is driving both of them mad. They take it personally you see. That kind of thinking isn’t healthy.”

“It doesn’t help with you glorifying a serial killer,” said Cass.

“I’m not glorifying him, I’m just reporting the facts. A nickname just makes the article run smoother and the public lap it up. All the best have nicknames - The Yorkshire Ripper, Son of Sam, The Nightstalker, even Jack the Ripper…”

“The best?” said Cass. “Jesus Matt, you’re still the same dirty little creep you always were.”

“Hey,” he frowned. “You can’t talk to me like that anymore Cass. Unlike you I am somebody in this city.”

“You’re nothing and you always will be.”

“I can write what I want about you in my paper,” he scowled. “I’ll put you into The Carver story as withholding information. The police will want to talk to you…aargh.”

His tirade was cut off when Brodie’s hand clamped down over his and squeezed hard, grinding the bones together.

Cass smiled her wicked smile. “You shouldn’t go throwing around threats in front of Brodie, he doesn’t like it.”

“No I don’t,” said Brodie, squeezing harder. Matt twisted in his seat, face turning purple, face scrunched up with pain. “Sounds to me like DCI Hillyard already doesn’t like you. I wonder what he’d say if I told him about what you just threatened us with? And I don’t think your paper would appreciate you using their lead story to get a bit of revenge. You’d end up not only being done for compromising an on-going investigation but you’d be fired too. Are you willing to risk all that to get your own back on someone who nearly pulled your wee balls off when you were a teenager?”

“No,” grimaced Matt. “Let go…hurting…”

Brodie released him and Matt gasped, cradling his throbbing hand. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed his plight but no one was looking their way, too engrossed in their coffees and conversations.

“Who are you?” demanded Matt as his face returned to a normal colour. “You’re not police, that’s for sure.”

“That’s something you don’t need to know but I will tell you something that’s vital for your wellbeing - if you ever threaten either of us again I’ll come back and hack that hand clean off.”

“I won’t forget,” said Matt, hand aching horribly.

Brodie looked to Cass, who appeared delighted by the turn of the conversation. “I think it’s time we popped into the Target Bar for a bevvy,” he smiled.

When she smiled back they both got to their feet.

“Wait, you can’t leave, you haven’t given me any information in return,” said Matt, leaping up.

“We never said we would,” muttered Brodie as they headed for the door.

“You can’t do this to me. Do you know who I am?” screeched Matt, hurrying after them, still cradling his hand.

“I’ve got a fair idea,” said Brodie with a lopsided grin.

“You’re not walking out on me without giving me anything,” said Matt, rushing outside after them, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with them, Brodie’s threat already forgotten in his desperation for the story he knew was right under his nose.

Brodie suddenly stopped and spun round. Matt had to come to a halt to avoid running face first into his chest.

“Alright. I’ll tell you something.”

“Finally,” huffed Matt. “Hold on while I get my Dictaphone,” he said, patting down his coat pockets.

“You won’t be needing that,” barked Brodie. “You’re a fucking parasite and if you don’t back off I will step on you.”

“No you won’t, I know people,” smirked Matt.

“You’re not the only one.”

Matt was silenced as he stared into those furious, hard amber eyes. This time when they strode off he let them walk away.

CHAPTER 15

The pub was the dive they’d expected it to be, although it was still marginally better than the pub where Brodie had confronted Seth. Doug himself was at a table in the corner in conference with a smaller, skinnier man with full blond hair and ice blue eyes. They both looked up indignantly when Cass and Brodie approached their table.

“What the fuck do you want?” glowered Doug. “You’d better do one if you know what’s good for you.”

“We’re here to give you a message,” said Brodie coolly.

Kyle and Doug both shot to their feet. “What fucking message?” said Kyle.

Even though he was small and slender, Kyle was more intimidating than his partner in crime simply for the way his eyes were devoid of any kind of emotion, despite the anger in his voice.

“From Seth Creegan,” continued Brodie.

The muscle in Kyle’s left cheek jumped. “Well, we’re waiting,” he said, voice oozing venom.

“He said the deal’s off and you can get tae fuck, his words by the way.”

Doug jumped to his feet, snatched up his pint glass and smashed it on the end of the table, brandishing the jagged edge. “No one fucking speaks to us like that.”

“Doug, take it easy,” said Kyle, aware how silent the pub had gone. He turned back to Brodie. “Why send you two here? Why not come himself? Lost his balls, has he?”

“I couldn’t tell you. We’re just being paid well.”

“You must be. You’re not from round here, you can’t know who we are.”

“Actually we do Mr Johnson,” said Brodie.

“If you did then you’d have told Seth to deliver his own fucking message.”

“We’re not easily intimidated.”

“What, not even this little girl?” said Doug, turning his attention to Cass, who had remained silent.

“Especially not her,” said Brodie.

“I know you. You were in the bar where Seth works.”

“I was,” she replied coolly.

This only went to confirm the truth of what they were saying in both Haines and Johnson’s minds, such as they were.

Doug licked his lips lasciviously. “You shouldn’t have come in here little girl because you’re never fucking leaving. They’ve got a nice room upstairs where I’m going to drag you…”

Brodie glanced sideways at Cass and noted how rigid she’d gone, the rage glowing like embers in her hazel eyes. “Bad move Haines,” he said. “You really don’t want to talk to her like that.”

Haines sneered at him and continued, undaunted. “I’m going to tie you down and fu…”

He never got to finish the sentence because Cass’s foot slammed into his right knee, causing him to cry out and crumple. Then she banged his hand off the edge of the table, forcing him to relinquish the glass, which she picked up and pressed to his thick neck.

“Please do finish that sentence. Just give me an excuse to stick this in you,” she hissed in his ear.

“You stupid bitch, you’ve fucking done it now,” screamed Kyle, spittle flying from his lips, eyes bugging out of his head. It had been so long since anyone had stood up to them that he couldn’t believe it was happening now.

“Your friend shouldn’t be such a perv,” said Brodie disinterestedly. “Maybe you’ll take us a little more seriously now? I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” he added when Kyle’s hand started to slide into his inner jacket pocket. “You’d be wise leaving that where it is because it’s only going to end up jammed into a part of your anatomy.”

Kyle Johnson was hopping with fury, literally, jumping from one foot to the other. His reputation had just been damaged in a very public way and he was desperate to atone.

“Your deal with Seth is done,” said Brodie. “You can walk away from it nice and quietly while you still can or you can be fucking thick and make something of it. This is the only friendly warning you’ll get.”

“You’re fucking dead, do you hear me? You’re dead,” Kyle bellowed at them as they left.

“Well that was fun,” smiled Brodie as they left the pub behind. They’d parked the car three streets away so Johnson and Haines wouldn’t see it.

“I agree but what did it achieve?” said Cass.

“It’s stirred up a hornet’s nest. Remember what Matt said about Johnson’s temper? Now we watch that pair and Seth carefully. My guess is Seth’s in on a drug deal with those losers, it’s the only way his precious ma could afford to furnish her house with all the latest tech. From Johnson’s reaction it looks like I was right.”

“What’s that got to do with anything? We’re looking into Bryan Flynn’s murder and The Carver murders.”

“You heard what Matt said. DCI Hillyard and DS Clarke - who just happen to be investigating The Carver case - have been after bringing down Johnson and Haines for ages. If we help them then they might just share their information with us.”

“Good thinking Boss.”

“Haines and Johnson are angry and want revenge. They have to take it if they’re to maintain their reputations as hard bastards. Now all we need to do is follow them and they’ll give us what we want.”

“Did I ever tell you how smart you are?”

“No.”

“Good, I don’t want you getting a swollen head.”

Brodie smiled. She was impressed.

After collecting their car, Brodie and Cass returned to the street the Target Bar was on to watch from a discreet distance. Haines and Johnson didn’t disappoint. The two men stormed out of the pub, red with fury and jumped into a black BMW. They followed them through the city streets, always keeping well back, glad for the dense city traffic because it offered them excellent camouflage.

When Haines and Johnson pulled onto the drive of a rundown council house in Moss Side, Brodie drove past and turned down a side street where he stopped the car.

“Moss Side, I don’t like this,” said Cass, looking mistrustfully out of the window. “A lot of bad shit goes on around here.”

“And Haines and Johnson are at the heart of it.”

“Why would Seth Creegan get involved with Moss Side gangsters? They’re brutal.”

“Because he saw easy money and he thinks he’s invincible, like Lauren said. You know his type, he’s never really been punished properly for anything in his life so he thinks he can do what he likes without facing the consequences. He’s got into business with that pair of numpties and assumes he’s in control of the situation. Johnson and Haines were pissed off with him to begin with, that much we can be pretty certain of. Now they’re going to make their move on him.”

“What if they don’t go after Seth directly? What if they decide to target Lauren or Maggie instead?”

“Because they need to repair their reputations in the eyes of their peers and hurting a couple of defenceless women isn’t going to do that. The only way to get their self respect back is to punish Seth. Now we just wait.”

“Where are you going?” she said when he got out of the car. “Bloody hell,” she sighed, unfastening her seatbelt and hurrying after him. Together they crept to the end of the street and peered around the corner.

“How long do you think this is going to take?” said Cass.

“Not long,” replied Brodie. “They’re pretty pissed off. Ah, here we go.”

They watched as Johnson and Haines stomped back out of the house clutching a dark blue sports bag that no doubt contained an arsenal of weapons and torture implements and jumped back into the BMW.

“Bingo,” said Brodie, taking out his phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“DS Clarke. Your wee friend Matt basically admitted he was a decent copper. Let him handle it. Hello, DS Clarke?” he said when the voice on the other end answered. “I’ve got some information. You might want to arrest Kyle Johnson and Doug Haines before they kill someone.”

DS Paul Clarke had a head full of this fucking awful Carver case that seemed to have no end in sight. At least he’d just made a couple of arrests on another matter that had been incredibly satisfying.

He’d been working on The Carver case solidly and had had very little sleep since the first victim had been found. Now his superior had insisted he go home for some rest, reasoning this new victim wasn’t in any hurry and they had to wait for the post mortem results anyway, just to be sure she was a Carver victim. Of course she bloody was, she had fucking weird symbols etched into her skin. It was just an excuse to get him out of the office for a few hours. But, if truth be told, he was dead on his feet to the extent that he couldn’t think clearly anymore. His DCI had recognised that and told him that if he didn’t get some sleep he’d be put on sick leave until he did. So he was being dutifully obedient, even though all he wanted was to get back there and find the bastard who was doing this. No case had ever got to him like this one, it was just so fucking weird and twisted and the sooner the perpetrator was off the streets the better.

“DS Clarke,” called a voice.

Clarke whipped round, convinced it was a member of the press and prepared himself for a confrontation. The two people approaching him didn’t look like press but they could trick you like that. “What do you want?” he frowned.

“We have some information about The Carver case,” said the man.

“Then I suggest you go to the station and report it via the proper channels.”

“We’d prefer it if we could remain anonymous.”

Clarke frowned at the pair of them - a large Scottish man and a very attractive younger woman with extremely long hair. They didn’t look like a couple, in fact they looked all business. He couldn’t figure them out. The man’s Scottish accent rang a bell in his sleep-deprived mind. “You gave me the information about Johnson and Haines.”

“How did that go by the way?”

“Very well thank you. We caught them red-handed with a ton of weaponry. You have information about The Carver too? How is it you know more than the Manchester Police?” he said suspiciously.

Clarke tensed when Brodie reached into his inner jacket pocket.

“It’s okay, I’m just reaching for my card,” he said before producing one and holding it out to Clarke.

“Who are you?” Clarke asked Cass as he accepted Brodie’s card.

“She’s my associate, Cass Carlisle,” replied Brodie.

Clarke glanced at the card. “Brodie MacBride.
My business is unfinished business.
What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m a private investigator. I used to be a police officer,” he added when Clarke rolled his eyes. “I was hired by a client to warn Sarah Creegan about her husband Mark who murdered his own father when he was seventeen. I believe you’re already familiar with the Creegans?”

Clarke just stared back at him.

“And of their background?”

One single, begrudging nod was his reply.

“My client fears The Carver is…”

“Mark Creegan?”

“Yes.”

“You gave me the information about Johnson and Haines hoping I’d share information with you about The Carver case but you can get knotted. I’m telling you sod all.”

“Johnson and Haines were on their way to hurt Seth Creegan, possibly kill him.”

Clarke, who had turned to his front door, hesitated.

“Coincidence his name comes up again, isn’t it?” pressed Brodie.

“Listen, I’m really tired and I’ve been given a few hours to get some sleep, which I’m not going to waste sparring with you. I’ll give you five minutes of my time then you leave.”

“Deal,” said Brodie good-naturedly.

Clarke ushered him and Cass into a respectable semi-detached house, which felt cold and unlived in. The furnishings were bare and functional with nothing personal, nothing to indicate the owner had a life of any sorts. It was clear Clarke hardly spent any time here. To him a home was somewhere to eat, wash and sleep, nothing more. Brodie thought it a bit sad until he realised it was just like his own place, which disconcerted him.

“Right, talk,” said Clarke, looking pointedly at his watch, making it clear they were being timed.

“My client knows all about the original Carver murders in Camden, where the Creegans come from,” opened Brodie.

“Who’s your client?”

“Sorry, that’s confidential.”

“I could get a warrant to find out.”

“And I might get a sudden case of amnesia.”

“We could check your records.”

“I don’t keep any.”

“None at all?” said Clarke incredulously.

“Anything kept on computer can be hacked and anything written down can be read. It’s the only way to ensure absolute privacy for my clients and that privacy is what my business relies on. Can we discuss this later if and when it becomes necessary? I am on a time limit here.”

“Keep going.”

“My client was struck by the similarities in the two cases from what they read in the papers. They came to me to warn Sarah Creegan, they were worried she might be in danger.”

“From Mark?”

“Yes. Is he still a person of interest in the case?”

Clarke decided to ignore the question. “So what’s Seth got to do with this?”