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This wasn’t going the way he’d intended.
Jamie Pennyborough was worried. That was an understatement. The truth was he was shitting himself.
All they’d wanted was more money for the cottage in the wood job. When the paymaster they’d never met called Frankie to say the rest of the money was in the dead letter box, he’d made the demand. The guy told him where he could shove his idea and Frankie, who’d had a few pints, told him he knew where he worked. He’d said he’d think about it and call him back.
It took a while but Frankie eventually called excitedly to say he’d been in touch and was going to meet him. He was playing it close to his chest and Jay had to trust him because he hadn’t been in a position to be there himself; a difference of opinion over drugs and money had found him having his arm placed in plaster. He’d heard nothing since.
Now, he was reading about the local man found dead in his car on a rundown industrial estate. Shot in the head, it said. It was Frankie Ellis. Clearly, someone hadn’t been happy with the re-negotiation process. He knew he’d be next.
The job itself had been pretty simple. The paymaster and the bloke in the cottage had never actually met so Frankie had to scrub up and pretend it was him. Overpowering him had been easy, a gun in the face, he was getting on and hadn’t looked well anyway.
With him tied to the chair, Jay had played guard while Frankie picked up the girl as pre-arranged. Unable to resist the urge, he’d paid her for sex in the car and because he’d given her the bulk up front for the forthcoming job she gave him a discount and a packet of condoms. Leaving her in the bedroom to get ready, he’d bragged about it when he’d entered the living room to strip the old fella as best they could.
They were working to a script but had already started to ad-lib. Having done too good a job on tying him up, rather than undo all the knots, some scissors from the kitchen drawer allowed them to cut his clothes off without having to mess around.
They’d brought a couple of bin bags and other stuff to use, so they loaded the clothing into one and threw it in the back of the car. Then they’d swiftly wrapped him in clingfilm.
The girl was getting restless but had thought Jamie was her ‘date’ when he entered the bedroom. For further payment, she allowed him to tie her, face-up, legs apart, on the bed as part of the ‘game he wanted to play’. By the time she realised, it was too late. Her mouth covered, Frankie injected her with the pure heroin while Jay prevented her from thrashing about.
When they’d untied and turned her over, Frankie had beaten her arse with a cane before they carried her into the living room to complete dressing the scene.
Satisfied they were both dead, they’d had a swift tidy and left, stuffing the bag of Don’s clothes and their gloves into a far neighbour’s dustbin; put out for the following day’s collection.
Then the copper had stopped them and that’s when Jay discovered he’d lost his earring.
He’d wanted to go back but Frankie convinced him it could’ve been anywhere. Besides, the officer had given them the ‘be out of town by sun up’ speech and if he discovered them still hanging around they knew he’d find some excuse to lock them up. It would’ve been the thin end of the wedge.
The knock at the door made him jump.
He carefully slid the edge of the curtain back and surreptitiously peered out. A little guy, blowing his nose on a hanky: company hi-viz jacket, parcel under his arm and a clipboard in his free hand.
Parcel guy knocked again. He’d seen the twitch of the curtain. Crouching down, he lifted the letter box and called out, “Sorry to bother you. I’ve got a parcel for your neighbour. Just want to leave it with you, if you’d be so kind.”
There was movement, out of his view in the first doorway; he could see the shadow on the carpet. “It’ll only be a few seconds. If I have to take it back I’ll lose my bonus.”
Jamie relented and opened the door to be greeted by a wide smile. “Thanks, mate, you’re a star. Just sign here.”
He scribbled his signature, the courier smiled, turned and walked away. Jay closed the door and placed the package next to it, against the wall. A hand rammed into his throat forcing him back over the threshold as he re-entered the living room. He hit the side of the stairs with a thud, fighting for breath.
A calm, quiet voice. “Now, behave and don’t say a word. If you speak when I’ve told you not to, nasty things will happen. Do you understand?” The hand around his neck clenched tighter.
He nodded. The grip slackened. He sucked in some air. Nicks dragged him to the door, slipped the latch and Simon stepped in.
Deposited on the settee in the front room, Jamie put up the standard ‘buck’ bravado. He didn’t know what they were talking about. When he saw the gun, he changed his mind and said they’d been out looking for an easy target to burgle. On his mother’s life, he was telling the truth. A cat strolled in from the kitchen and began to rub itself on Simon’s legs.
Nicks looked down and sighed. “If you don’t start telling the truth, I’m going to have to shoot your cat, skin it in front of you and make you wear it as a hat.” He smiled. “Don’t for one moment think I won’t.”
Si picked up the newspaper from the coffee table and quickly read it. He passed it to Nicks who scanned it and said, “It looks like there could be someone out there who’d be interested in meeting you, Jamie.” He paused. “You know, I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth. Or should we just phone the number we found on Frankie’s mobile and wait until they get here?” He threw the paper onto Pennyborough’s knees. “I can offer you Police protection. It’s up to you. I don’t care either way at the end of the day.”
There was silence broken only by the purring of the cat.
Nicks turned to Simon. “Phone that number. Tell them we’ve got him and we’ll wait here for them.”
Si started phoning. It was his home number but the guy on the settee was none the wiser.
Jamie rapidly thought it over and then he told them everything, well not entirely everything. In his version, it was all Frankie’s fault and he’d acted under duress. Frankie had a violent history, everybody knew that.
They left his house keys under the mandatory front doorstep flowerpot so his mother could feed the cat and escorted him to the car.
During the journey to Liverpool’s St. Anne Street Police Station, Jamie hardly paused for breath. He thought he’d be going down for at least ten years and decided it best to divest himself of any jobs he’d done that might come back to haunt him and increase his prison time.
TICs they were known as – offences ‘taken into consideration’ by a Judge when sentencing for the ‘big job’. Not charged in their own right they might add a few months to a custodial punishment. The bucks liked it because it stopped the police from returning at a later date with evidence that could put them away for more years. The police bosses liked it because it number crunched, improved the detection rate and made them look good which never harmed their promotion prospects. Nicks listened to him patiently.
The man standing in the rear yard of the Police Station put the phone to his ear. “Baddeley.”
“Hello, Thurstan. I’m glad you’ve decided to turn up,” Nicks said. “The young man who’s going to come to speak to you wants to be arrested for Don’s murder.”
Jamie tapped him on the shoulder, to remind him. He nodded. “He says it was under duress and a nasty man made him do it. He seems like a nice lad and he’s got a cat, so he can’t be all bad. Oh, and he loves his mum.”
He put the phone away then told a pleased looking Jamie: “Right, son. Go speak to that man, over there. He’ll treat you fairly. I wanted to kill you but he talked me out of it” He smiled and picked up the Glock in his lap. “But, if you try to leg it, you won’t get more than a couple of feet.”
In the Custody Suite, the Sergeant behind the desk said, “You’ve heard what the arresting Officer told me. Do you have anything to say?”
Jamie eyed her carefully. She had a pleasant, kind face, an understanding one, despite trying to look stern. “He’s right. That’s what happened but I wouldn’t be here if the secret squad hadn’t come to me house with a parcel and threatened to shoot me cat.”
She smiled back at him then turned to Thurstan. “Well, you won’t be interviewing him anytime soon. Clearly, he’s either high as a kite or he’s coming down. When we’ve booked him in he’ll be getting a visit from the FME.”
Back at MIT, DS Lizzie Johnson tapped the door. “May I come in, Detective Chief Inspector?” She smiled.
“Lizzie. I was just going to call you. We’re going to have to cancel tonight. I’ve got one in for murder at SAS and I need to see it through.” He saw the disappointment in her face. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ve booked a day off and reserved a room at Llangrannog.”
She sat down. “It’s ok. It’s just I was looking forward to a nice night. Never mind, we both know the score. The hotel sounds a great idea. Why don’t I go to yours anyway, cook you a nice tea and just chill? If you’re late in you can reheat it in the microwave?” She gave him a look he couldn’t resist even if he wanted to.
“Perfect. Well, not perfect but a good second.” He dropped the blinds, closed the door and kissed her.