Broken Silence. Danielle Ramsay
He aggressively kicked a stone and watched as it rolled along the pavement towards the Saab.
‘Tom? Yeah, it’s Jack. I’ve got a new development regarding the murdered girl.’ Brady looked back at the house.
It was a comfortable, four-bedroom semi-detached, in a quiet, respectable neighbourhood. Yet, less than a hundred metres away a horrific murder had been committed.
Brady gave the details he needed to and then cut the call. He walked over to the Saab and climbed in.
‘This is connected to the murder, isn’t it?’ Conrad asked as he took in Brady’s sallow, drawn complexion.
Brady nodded as he looked for a cigarette.
‘I had a hunch that we weren’t looking in the right place,’ Brady said after lighting a cigarette.
Conrad shot him a questioning look.
‘The victim,’ answered Brady. ‘I decided to drop the minimum age from eighteen down to fifteen.’
Conrad still looked puzzled.
‘You know kids today, especially girls. They seem to grow up so damned fast that I decided to widen the search. And,’ Brady paused as he inhaled, ‘it seems my hunch was right.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘As sure as I can be. The parents have to identify the body first—’ Brady faltered, realising what an ordeal that would be.
‘How old was she?’
‘Fifteen, Conrad. Fifteen years old. She was just a kid,’ Brady replied quietly as he looked back at the house.
‘Conrad, do me a favour and get me as far away from this bloody place as possible.’
He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to shut everything out. But there was one name he couldn’t get out of his head, and that was Matthews.
‘I just need five minutes to clear my head,’ Brady said before slamming the car door shut.
In fact, he needed to make a call. One he didn’t want Conrad overhearing. He walked over to the steep steps that led down to Tynemouth beach. It was deserted; the bleak, black sky and grey, solitary sea were enough to dissuade the usual dog walkers and lonely joggers. Brady stood and looked across the dark, empty vastness before him. And then he saw it; violence at its purest. There it was, brooding, blood-black violence. He stood transfixed as the thunderous waves spewed out venomous froth all over the beaten sand.
Conrad studied Brady’s figure from the safety of his car, and wondered what was going through his head. He accepted that with Brady you had no chance; more so when even the police psychologist couldn’t figure him out. He watched as Brady took out his mobile phone, curious about who he was calling.
‘Where the fuck are you?’ Brady demanded.
‘It’s better you don’t know.’
‘I’m serious. Where the fuck are you, Jimmy?’ Brady repeated.
‘You heard me the first time. Leave it, Jack, you don’t understand.’
‘Don’t be a bloody fool! Let Gates sort this out before you end up losing your job,’ Brady warned. ‘Or worse.’
‘Don’t you think I already know that? I have no fucking choice.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Jimmy. You’re talking shit. Look, you need to come in. We’ve identified the body. It’s only a matter of time now,’ Brady warned.
‘Are you crazy?’
‘Jimmy, let’s talk this through face to face, yeah?’
‘What the fuck aren’t you getting here, Jack? I don’t want to involve you … not in this …’
‘In what for Chrissakes?’
‘Fuck it, Jack! Why do you think I’m lying low?’
‘Because she was a fifteen-year-old girl that you drove home on the night she was murdered. Who also happened to be your daughter’s best friend! Shit, Jimmy! It’ll be obvious to Gates that you recognised her.’
Matthews let out a low, maniacal laugh.
‘If only that was all I had to worry about.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Jimmy! What’s going on?’
‘Madley.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah, I expected that response from you. Why the fuck do you think I didn’t want to say anything?’
‘Oh shit, Jimmy! Tell me you’re not involved with Madley?’
Brady shook his head. CID had been trying to get Madley for years. But no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn’t get anything on him. He was the local mafia boss, feared by all for his unforgiving nature. But, he was also revered for his drug money rumoured to run into the millions. He had a huge house on Marine Avenue, one of the many surprisingly affluent streets in Whitley Bay which would have set him back close to a million, not to mention another two-million-pound farmhouse set in one of the most stunning parts of Northumberland.
Brady had seen it for himself, a staggering eighteenth-century farmhouse with outbuildings, stables, paddocks and thirty acres of wild fields hidden behind rows and rows of trees. Once past the electronic gates, the gravelled drive was dominated by trees on either side for the mile or so it took to get to the imposing building and its original cobbled courtyard. Behind the farmhouse the Cheviots stood, proud and majestic, and to the south Northumberland National Park lay spread out for miles and miles. For a lad from the Ridges, even Brady had to admit that Madley had done well for himself.
Add to that the three nightclubs; two in the city centre and one in Whitley Bay. Brady had also heard that he had recently bought the Royal Hotel on the sea front, right next door to his nightclub, The Blue Lagoon. CID still couldn’t touch him.
‘Jimmy, whatever mess you’re in with Madley, I can help,’ Brady offered.
Matthews’ silence said it all.
‘You don’t understand …’ Matthews mumbled, more to himself than Brady. ‘I… I fucked up. I… I owe Madley more money than I could ever pay in a lifetime. You’ve got no idea how much. But I thought I’d got him to trust me … I mean he’s had me working for him for the past few months to pay off what I owe him and then I fucking blow it.’
If there was one thing Brady was certain of, that was that Madley trusted no one; not even his own mother.
‘Listen, Jimmy, if you’re scared, go to O’Donnell.’
‘Yeah?’ Matthews questioned sceptically. ‘It won’t do any bloody good, Jack. You’d be surprised at who’s controlling Madley.’
‘Go on?’
‘Who does O’Donnell share drinks with after golf? And who is it that’s been financing all of the Chief Superintendent’s new projects?’
Brady didn’t reply. He already knew the answer: Mayor Macmillan. Brady knew the recently elected Mayor was involved in all sorts of shady deals but even he was struggling to accept that Macmillan had power over someone like Madley, let alone the Chief Superintendent.
Brady had known O’Donnell for years; way back when the Chief Superintendent was just a humble DS. If it hadn’t been for O’Donnell literally grabbing Brady off the war-torn streets of the Ridges, and offering him a chance at a different life, then he wouldn’t be stood where he was now. Brady had been an angry adolescent, one who had every right to be pissed off with his life. And he had started to get a reputation on the streets for his suicidal ‘couldn’t