Ray twisted side-on to Crazy, made the shape of a gun with his first finger and stuck it against Crazy’s temple. ‘Bein’ late pisses me off.’
‘Hey, hey,’ Crazy’s voice creaked nervously. ‘I been working, sorting stuff out for you.’
‘Yeah? More like screwing that bint of yours,’ Marty interjected, his mouth curling.
Ray removed the pretend gun from Crazy’s head and sat properly on his seat, allowing Crazy to look disdainfully over his shoulder at Marty. ‘No — actually, no.’ He turned back to Ray. ‘Sorting out today for you, that’s what I’ve been doing, and checking this area real careful, like, for cop surveillance, just in case.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Good.’
‘So what’s first on your agenda?’ Crazy asked, gripping the wheel tightly and revving the engine.
‘JJ needs a visit first. Needsa bit of geeing up, doesn’t he, Mart?’
‘Sure does, skimming bastard,’ Marty agreed, a wicked smile expanding across his mean face.
‘Then after we’ve had some fun with him, let’s really get down to business.’ Ray clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Because today is the day when Ray Cragg puts his foot down and steps on some shite.’ He glanced at his driver. ‘Let’s go, Crazy.’
Joe Sherridan’s court appearance was over almost before it began. It took two, maybe three minutes at most. The clerk of the court read out his name and Sherridan nodded when asked if the details were correct. He made no response to the charge against him. He then sat down in the dock, a morose expression on his face, his eyes staring unfocused at the floor.
Henry Christie watched his prisoner thoughtfully, wondering what was going through the man’s mind. Turmoil, despair, Henry guessed. Remorse about what he had done — perhaps. Uncertainty about the future? His head must be spinning like a washing machine.
The defence made no application for bail. Seconds later the magistrates remanded Sherridan in custody and without a backwards glance he was led down to the holding cells below by his Group 4 jailers.
Henry stood up wearily. He chatted about the case for a few minutes with the pretty lady prosecutor from the Crown Prosecution Service, knowing it was best to keep her sweet, then left court and headed to Blackburn police station, which adjoined the court building. After ironing out what still needed to be done post-charge with the local DI, such as the case file, custody remands, the inquest, reviews and family liaison, he phoned his own office to see if there was anything outstanding for him to deal with. There was nothing that needed immediate attention, so he jumped into his car and decided he fancied a trip to Blackpool.
He could do some work on the cold case he had been given to review, then he could have lunch with Kate. Surprise her.
Johnny Jacques had been in bed with Carrie, his lady friend, when the knock came on the door. He had been awake, but groggy and bleary-eyed, still sluggish from the effects of the night before’s drink and drugs binge. It had not been anything too dangerous. Lots of lager, one ecstasy tab and a nose full of coke, or two or three. He’d lost count. But it was all having its hangover effect now and not for the first time. He thought that at the age of forty-five he was getting a little old for it, his body did not seem to have the resilience it once had.
The sound of hammering on the door made him roll over and pull a pillow over his head. The knocking persisted.
‘Shit,’ Carrie said. She was suffering equally.
The knocking went on. Carrie heard the letterbox flap open with a clatter and a voice shouted through it. She recognized it immediately.
‘Fuck!’ she said this time, shooting bolt upright, shaking JJ by the shoulder. ‘It’s Marty Cragg,’ she hissed.
‘Wha?’
‘It’s fuckin’ Marty, and if it’s Marty, it’s Ray too.’
‘Shite.’
The knocking grew into pounding.
Carrie’s breathing was short and desperate, her heart pounding. ‘They must know you’re here.’ Suddenly, with a clear head, she jumped out of bed, grabbing her towelling dressing gown and wrapping it tightly around her. JJ stayed in bed, having removed the pillow from his head. He stared up at her, eyes wide as a bunny caught in the glare of headlights on main beam. ‘I’ll do my best to keep them at the front door. You get dressed and scarper out of the back window.’
‘Yeah, yeah, right.’ JJ twitched, but still lay there as if stunned.
Carrie leaned over him and spoke as though he was retarded. ‘Get fuckin’ moving,’ she said, exaggerating her lip movements so he would understand.
Marty shouted something obscene through the letterbox.
JJ shot upright, jumped out of bed and began to scrabble for his scattered clothing as Carrie left the bedroom and walked into the hallway, shouting, ‘Keep yer friggin’ hair on.’
Dressing quickly was no picnic for JJ. He managed to find his underpants and slotted one leg through a hole, then put his second leg down the same hole, only to discover they were not his underpants at all, they were Carrie’s knickers. He ripped them off as fast as he could and threw them furiously across the room. He dived for his jeans and hopped into them, pulling a grubby T-shirt on at much the same time. Picking up his trainers, he dashed through to the living room at the exact moment Carrie opened the door on the security chain.
JJ ran to the window, slid it open and peered out.
‘C’mon,’ he panted to himself, trying to get it together. It looked a very long way down to the ground, which was a large, asphalt kids’ play area, though with no equipment left in it. It would hurt.
He heard the sound of Ray Cragg’s voice at the front door. A motivator to action if ever there was one.
Ray Cragg kept the tone of his voice reasonable, calm and dangerous.
‘Just let us in, Carrie,’ he said. Ray could see just one fearful eye looking through the narrow gap allowed by the security chain. He knew she was bricking it. ‘We just want to have a chat with him, that’s all Carrie,’ he said smoothly.
‘No, just get to fuck. You’re not coming in here, you set of twats,’ she said, now wishing she had not been so foolish as to open the door in the first place because Ray was leaning on it and she doubted she had the strength to close it on him. ‘Anyhow, he isn’t here, so you might as well piss off and leave me in peace.’
Ray inhaled and breathed out through his nose. His temper was starting to go but he held on to it. He leaned into the gap, his face only inches away from Carrie’s. He could smell her breath and the dank flat beyond: sweat, cannabis, spermicidal lubricant. ‘Listen, you cunt,’ he said evenly, ‘if you don’t open up, we’ll kick this door down and then I’ll get really annoyed with you. I’ll smack your face in, just for fun. . and I don’t have any axe to grind with you, love. It’s JJ I want.’
Carrie desperately fought for time so that JJ could get out of the window, shin down the drainpipe, along windowledges, drop to the ground and leg it, even though it was four floors up. He was an agile guy and had done it before when the cops came calling.
‘I said he’s not here. You deaf or summat?’ she stalled brazenly. ‘Now piss off.’
Ray moved back quickly and with a flick of his head towards the door said, ‘Crazy, Marty.’ He leaned against the wall and folded his arms.
The two had been waiting for the moment with keen anticipation. Marty went first, going for the gap in the door. His hand shot through it and reached for Carrie’s face, or whatever he could grab. Crazy, just behind, shouldered the door with all his weight.
Carrie was expecting the move. She slammed the door on Marty’s wrist.
He howled like a demon in pain and rage, but it didn’t really matter because it meant the door was still open and Crazy, who had stepped back, braced himself and flat-footed the door. It flew open on the second whack, releasing Marty’s trapped limb and sending Carrie stumbling and screaming backwards as the badly fitted security chain snapped and splintered off the door frame.