‘Yeah, sure,’ said Roscoe.
‘No — that car,’ he said.
She saw it too and it aroused her cop instincts. ‘Four up,’ she noted.
Moments later they were outside Ray’s house. Henry pulled his nearside wheels on to the grass verge which formed part of Ray’s front garden. Lights were on in the house, the curtains drawn.
‘Looks like a normal house,’ remarked Roscoe.
‘Mmm, not much protection evident — double bluff. C’mon, let’s see if his lordship is in.’
They were in luck. Ray himself answered the door, beer in hand, looking slovenly. Henry shoved his warrant card and badge up into his face and introduced himself and asked to come in. He stepped over the threshold.
‘Get the fuck back,’ Cragg said, holding the door. ‘If you’ve got a warrant, you can come in, otherwise we do business here. This is my family home.’
‘Ray, this is a personal matter, best dealt with inside,’ Henry cooed. ‘I promise not to go through any of your drawers, but you really should let us in.’ Henry peered past Ray’s shoulder and saw someone in the kitchen. ‘We need a heart to heart — seriously.’
Ray relented. ‘Make it quick.’
He led Henry through to the lounge. There was a huge TV in one corner, surrounded by equally huge speakers. The cartoon channel was on, that very famous canine detective Hong Kong Phooey was strutting his stuff. One person was watching TV. Henry recognized him immediately as Julian Brindle, otherwise known as Crazy or JCB. Crazy shifted uncomfortably.
‘What is it? Do I need my brief?’ Ray wanted to know.
‘You people — now why should you need a solicitor?’ Jane Roscoe said. ‘Been a bad boy?’
Crazy sat upright, a cautious expression on his face. Henry saw him swallowing repeatedly, a nervous gesture.
Ray licked his lips.
Henry found himself in a quandary. He felt an urge to do some verbal jousting with Cragg, just to get a feel for the man, to sound him out and play with him, and to get him worried. On the other hand his brother was lying on a mortuary slab with a bullet having entered and exited his brain and probably a couple of others still in there. Henry’s main concern should have been to deliver the message and deal with Ray as a grieving relative. Against all his natural instinct, Henry plumped for the latter approach. He guessed it would not be long before he was doing the former anyway — glaring at each other across an interview room table with a tape recorder between them.
‘Is your mother in?’ he asked Ray.
‘No, why?’
‘Where is she and when will she be back?’
‘Why, what’s this about? Why do you want to speak to my mum?’
‘Ray, would you like to take a seat?’ Jane said. ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news.’
Puzzled, but still wary of two cops in his house, Ray sat down and Jane Roscoe sat next to him, giving him one of her best and most professional funeral looks.
‘It’s about Marty,’ she began softly and informed him gently but fairly bluntly so that he would be under no misapprehension that his half-brother had been murdered. As she finished, there was an unworldly wail from the kitchen. Henry stepped out of the lounge and spun into the kitchen where he found Jack Burrows collapsed in a ragged heap on the wooden floor, head buried in her hands, just on the verge of hyperventilation.
The car with four dark shapes on board was still there when they drove away from Ray Cragg’s house. Henry clocked the registration number again to reinforce his memory for later checking on the Police National Computer.
Behind him Ray Cragg was being driven by Crazy, accompanied by Burrows in a BMW which had been in the garage attached to Ray’s house.
In convoy they headed to the M55.
‘How do you think he took it?’ Henry asked Jane.
‘Didn’t actually seem too concerned. More annoyed than anything, especially when he told us he didn’t want a family liaison officer attached to him.’
‘Yes, I got that impression.’
‘However, Jack Burrows was just a bit the opposite. A bit strange considering that she appears to be Ray’s bit of fluff. Unless. .’
‘Well, I didn’t know she was Ray’s girlfriend until now, because she’d denied any knowledge of the Craggs to me, but I’m pretty sure she was seeing Marty on the side.’
‘Fact or fantasy?’
‘Something I’ve unearthed.’ Henry explained the custody records and Burrows’ reaction to his questions about Marty.
‘Do you think there is anything to suggest that Ray might have killed Marty? Could he have found out about the liaison and got a teeny bit jealous?’
‘I won’t rule it out, but I think it’s unlikely.’ Henry relaxed into his driving as he joined the motorway, taking the Vectra up to a steady seventy, ensuring the car behind stayed in touch. ‘What have we got here?’ he mused. ‘Fill me in. Speculate.’
‘I’d love to fill you in,’ she responded.
‘About the job, not personally,’ he said hastily.
‘Okay.’ She marshalled her thoughts. ‘Johnny Jacques and his girlfriend, both dead. Johnny worked as a messenger boy for Ray and could have been ripping him off. Next we have three drug dealers shot to death on the same day at the King’s Cross by two masked gunmen and one getaway driver. The drug dealers are known to have been poaching on Ray’s territory. Two bodies are then found dumped in a quarry in Manchester and their two mates show up in Blackpool and order more than a double cheeseburger from McDonald’s. And finally, poor old Marty gets shot, together with a John Doe, as they say in America.’
‘And there’s also the cold case I’m investigating?’ Jane nodded. ‘Which has Jackie Burrows connections, who is sleeping with Ray and Marty, but not with Marty anymore because he’ll never get an erection again. . and Ray does not seem too upset that his brother is dead meat.’
‘But Jack Burrows is.’
‘And maybe therein lies a way in to Ray Cragg.’ He looked at Roscoe and raised his eyebrows. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘She could be a chink in Ray’s armour.’
Eleven
Crazy drove away from the mortuary, concentrating on the road ahead, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. Ray sat next to him, staring frozenly through the windscreen, teeth grinding, jaw pumping.
It was not far to the motorway and soon they were speeding north up the M6. It was only as the speedo touched seventy that Ray inhaled deeply, then slowly swivelled his head round like something from a horror film and looked at Jack Burrows in the back seat. Initially, she did not know she was being stared at. Her eyes were fixed on her knees and her tightly interlocked fingers on her lap. She slowly became aware that Ray was looking at her and raised tear-stained eyes to his. She swallowed when she saw the expression on his face, the sneer of his lips, the red of his eyes.
‘What was all that shit about?’ he whispered loud enough so she could hear above the drone of the engine.
She shook her head slightly and frowned. ‘All what shit?’
‘All that fucking weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Why?’
‘He’s your brother. The news upset me.’ She folded her arms.
Ray glared at her then twisted forwards. ‘When I get back I need a chat with you and Miller. That bastard Dix must have done this. I want him hunted down like a dog. I want him dead and I want my money back, but most of all, I want my money back.’
There was a second interior rear-view mirror for use by front-seat passengers. Ray adjusted it so he could see Burrows. His mean face was tight and ferret-like as he watched her.
‘It’d be a pleasure,’ said Crazy. ‘He won’t take too much finding.’
‘Good.’ Ray continued to watch Burrows. ‘OTT,’ he said.