Where the Dead Fall by M J Lee

Author:M J Lee [Lee, M J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788633178
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2019-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty

The taxi shed was still there, beside the park. Except now there were four men standing outside it keeping watch. Obviously the word had already got out about the murder of Big Terry’s son.

Charlie Whitworth stopped for a moment on the pavement, taking a surreptitious glance up at his men in the car down the road keeping the area under surveillance.

‘We’ve got another team watching his house and one more checking on Graham Connelly’s apartment in the northern district.’ Charlie said out of the side of his mouth. ‘They won’t be able to fart without us knowing about it.’

‘Are we up on their phones too?’ asked Ridpath.

‘The ones we know about, But this lot are smart, they’ll be using burners, throwing them away every couple of weeks.’

‘How long can we keep this up for Charlie?’

‘The surveillance?’

Ridpath nodded.

‘With extra manpower… sorry, personnel,’ Charlie corrected himself, ‘three, four days at most on all four gangs. Longer if we cut down on the scope of the surveillance. Anyway, let’s get this over and done with.’

They walked down the short path and were immediately accosted by one of the men.

‘What you wan’?’

‘To speak to Michael Connelly.’

‘Yeah, well he’s not here.’ The man’s hand appeared on Charlie’s chest. ‘If you don’t take your hand away in five seconds, I’ll be arresting you for assaulting a police officer in the performance of his duty, section 89 paragraph one of the Police Act 1996.’

The man slowly removed his hand.

‘Now get your boss.’

‘Let him in, Toby,’ a voice shouted from inside.

‘Toby, your name is Toby?’

‘What of it?’

‘Another fucking mug, hey, Ridpath.’

‘I thought that was a jug, Charlie.’

‘Nah, this one’s definitely a mug.’

The door opened and they stepped inside. Michael Connelly was sitting exactly where Ridpath had left him two hours ago. His eyes still red and moist. Graham Connelly was leaning on a cupboard to his left.

‘Take a seat, Charlie. I see you’ve brought DI Ridpath with you. Left the Coroner’s Office already, have we? Back with MIT? Has she kicked you out?’

‘Who?’ asked Ridpath.

‘Mrs Challinor, heard she was a bit of a ball-breaker, doesn’t like incompetent coppers.’

Charlie walked over to look at one of the old Pirelli calendars hanging on the wall. ‘1994. One of my favourites. 1996 is better though, draped over the F1 Cars.’

‘Didn’t know you were a connoisseur, Charlie.’

‘I’m not, but everybody likes classic Pirelli. Shame they don’t make them any more.’

‘The world’s changing around our ears, Charlie. Women won’t stand for it. Take my daughter, calls herself a feminist she does. Wish she were more feminine, me, but she don’t listen. Even had Carmen copying her before she passed on, rest her soul. World’s changing, Charlie, me and you are the last dinosaurs.’

The DCI knocked papers off a chair with the back of his hand before sitting down. Ridpath remained standing.

‘Where were you at noon, today?’

‘Am I being interrogated, Charlie?’

‘Nah, we’re just having a friendly chat. So where were you?’

‘We don’t do friendly chats with coppers.’

Charlie switched his gaze to Graham Connelly. ‘Nobody’s talking to you, son… yet.

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