Tom spotted her. She saw him at exactly the same moment. The expressions on both their faces changed dramatically. But then they passed and Henry edged Tom into the office, sat him down in a chair.
‘Some big questions coming your way, Tom,’ Henry warned him. He made no reply.
‘Sir, excuse me.’
The young woman was now standing at the office door, a fearful look on her face, her eyes darting from Henry to Tom and back again.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ Henry said. ‘I had some things to do. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Sit down, just give me a few more minutes.’
‘No — you don’t understand. Him!’ Her forefinger pointed accusingly at Tom. ‘It’s him… he’s one of them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My boyfriend,’ she blabbed, trying to find her words, but everything in her mind was obviously jumbled.
‘You need to think very carefully about what you’re going to say, darlin’,’ Tom said. There was more than an undercurrent of menace in his voice, accompanied by a pointed, meaningful look.
‘Shut it,’ Henry growled. ‘This man’s your boyfriend?’ Henry asked.
‘No, no… last time I saw my boyfriend,’ she tried to explain, ‘he was with him, he was one of them…’
‘One of who?’
‘One of the ones that came for him, to take him away.’ She got a grip on herself and said clearly, ‘Last time I saw my boyfriend, he was with this man.’ She jabbed her finger at Tom again. ‘And I’ve never seen or heard from him since.’
‘And what’s your boyfriend called?’ Henry asked.
‘Massey,’ she said, her lips quivering, ‘Wayne Massey.’
NINETEEN
On the morning of his death Massey had woken up heavy-headed from the previous night’s excess. He had disturbed his girlfriend when he jumped quickly out of bed and teetered to the toilet, where he vomited noisily and copiously. After swilling out his mouth, he came back to bed, sat on the edge, head in hands, making soft moaning noises. He looked around at her when she reached across and touched his naked back with her fingertips.
‘You OK, babe?’
‘Yuh,’ he answered. They had been together a couple of months now, much to everyone’s surprise. Laura Binney was a quiet, reserved girl who had pretty much avoided the pitfalls that came with an upbringing on one of Lancaster’s most deprived council estates. She was not the most intellectual of girls but could see beyond the prospect of living on benefits, like her older sister Linda, or getting a dead-end job on a supermarket till. A streak of stubbornness inside her got her work in administration with the local council. It wasn’t the greatest job in the world, but there was the possibility of advancement and it provided enough money for her to rent a little flat on St George’s Quay by the River Lune. Cash was tight — only occasionally did she allow herself a blast night out with the girls — but strict budgeting ensured she survived.
She had known Wayne Massey for a while. He had gone out with Linda, a short tempestuous relationship that ended acrimoniously when she accused him, justly, of stealing cash from her.
From the sidelines, Laura secretly fancied him. He was a known drug dealer in the city, a hard man, even though he was only twenty-three, and he possessed a mysterious, dangerous aura that fascinated Laura, even though it went against her sense of sanity.
It was on a girlie night out with Linda and others that she bumped into Massey in a club where, it was rumoured, he controlled the drug trade.
He had a stand-up squabble with Linda over their failed relationship and she flounced off, carrying her high heels. But Massey caught Laura’s eye and the bottle of champagne he sent over fuelled a feeling of naughtiness. She had just broken up with her own feckless boyfriend and was on the lookout for a physical encounter just for the hell of it.
The champers got them chatting. And at three that morning they were fucking like there was no tomorrow in her flat by the river. It was the beginning of an intense relationship for Laura, who found herself inexplicably obsessed by Massey and the way he threw himself around the city like he owned it. Pretty soon she thought she was in love, as he seemed to offer excitement she had never before experienced.
Despite a stark warning from Linda — ‘He’s a dangerous, unpredictable fuckwit and knocks about with dangerous people and he’ll screw every penny out of you’ — Laura was certain that once she got her hooks into him, she could change and mould him.
When Massey disappeared for a couple of days once without contacting her, she became worried, but he returned haggard-looking on the doorstep. He refused to tell her where he’d been, but did promise her he had not cheated on her, all she needed to hear. He screwed her dispassionately that day, a cold, clinical fuck, and just once she caught him looking at her in a way she did not quite understand. But it was only a fleeting glance, a moment of uncertainty, before they climaxed together.
Post coitus, she lay tucked into him, her head on his chest, her hand holding him gently, willing him to become hard again.
‘Babe?’ he said.
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘Yeah, look, I need to borrow some money. I hope that’s OK.’
‘From me? I don’t have anything.’
He chortled. ‘I need a few grand to tide me over.’
‘What for?’
‘Just a bit overstretched.’ It was a complete understatement.
‘I haven’t got that sort of money. You know that.’
He took her hand from him and pushed her away as he sat up. He took hold of her chin in the V of his right hand, where his thumb and forefinger connected. ‘Don’t fucking lie.’
She jerked herself away. ‘I’m not lying.’
‘Honey — some very bad men think I did the dirty on them, y’know, short changed them. If I don’t pay back, I’m going to suffer.’ She blinked. ‘And I know you’ve got money in a building society account.’
‘You’ve been through my things,’ she accused him.
‘Yeah — and you’ve got three big ones stashed away. I need it.’
‘Honey, it’s my money. I’ve been saving it for years.’
‘Do you want me to get my head kicked in?’
‘No, but…’
‘Then trot down to the building society and draw it out.’ His voice softened. ‘I’ll pay you back, you know I will.’
Laura was now sitting on the edge of the bed, her mind tortured, but knowing she would do as asked. She withdrew the money later and handed him the cash.
‘I need it back,’ she said.
‘Trust me,’ he said, reassuringly.
The money was never mentioned and their love life returned to normal, until that morning three days ago. The day on which he would die.
Massey had been out the previous night, without Laura, having returned very drunk to her flat at 3 a.m. He stumbled into bed and slept with his mouth agape, snoring horribly, ensuring that Laura got no sleep for the remaining hours in bed.
When he returned to bed from vomiting, she had touched him and asked if he was OK. He had just uttered the words, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ when she heard the first crash at the door. A massive smashing sound that initially puzzled her. It was followed by another.
Massey, however, seemed to know exactly what was happening. He screamed an obscenity, fell to his knees by the bed, forced his hand between the mattress and bedstead, frantically searching for something.
In the short hallway there was another crash.
‘What’s going on?’ Laura demanded. By this time she was on her feet, wide eyed, terrified, the duvet clasped around her.
‘Where is it, where is it?’ he chuntered, his voice rising, his right hand still groping under the mattress.
‘What’s going on, what are you after?’
Massey extracted a snub-nosed revolver from its hiding place, spun around with it as the bedroom door was kicked off its hinges and two men, followed by a third, burst into the room. The first pair were carrying baseball bats and as Massey swung the gun towards them, shouting something incomprehensible, they were on him. A bat smashed down on his wrist and the gun dropped from his fingers. The second man kicked it out of reach and the third stepped forward as Laura watched the spectacle, horrified.