For Evil to Flourish. Dubya Ph.D Lorimer
help for the girls. It has to be said, of course, that neither of the others did anything to help the girls either.'
'But we haven't managed to get any connection to Darren Hill, who we presumably still believe to have supplied the drugs to Patterson?'
'I'm afraid not, boss, none of them are brave enough to go down that road, the buck always stops with Patterson. The unregistered phone that was in the car is definitely the same one that was used to threaten Liz Kingsley, and Patterson's prints are on that as well, so we have him for the intimidation, but, there is still an unregistered phone unaccounted for. I'm guessing here, but I suspect these phones were being used to set up deals involving drugs or prostitutes, and I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised to find someone like Darren Hill has the other one, but McCall and Oldman are pleading ignorance.'
'What about the older guy that Liz Kingsley thought had called at the flat while she was there?'
'Complete blank, no idea who I was talking about apparently. Of course it's possible that with the effects of drugs and alcohol, she simply imagined it, and yet somehow I got the feeling they were hiding something.'
'Yes, when I interviewed Patterson it was the same story,' said Ann, 'He's genuinely worried now that he sees the trouble he's in, but still too frightened of the Hills to talk. I very much doubt that we'll get any more on them at this time. None the less, I think we can be quite pleased with the way things have gone, we can look forward to a nice weekend off. Apart from Brian of course!'
'Yeah, somebody has to hold the fort while you lot are skiving!'
The others responded with a good natured chorus of jeers, all having had to take their turn at working weekends recently.
'Right, as senior officer, I say we adjourn this meeting for the time being, and reconvene in half an hour at the Swan Inn.' said Ann, displaying the kind of leadership and decision-making qualities that made her so popular with her team, 'And Brian will get the first round in since he's earning all the overtime this weekend!'
At the Cross Keys inn later that evening, Allan, Jim and Chalky Whiteside were also discussing the Linda Hope case over a pint. A friend of Chalky's from the neighbourhood watch scheme had been speaking to a friend in the police, who had confirmed that Benny Patterson and two of his pals had been arrested, and there was sufficient evidence to ensure that Patterson, at least, would be going to trial. The same source also confirmed that the police had nothing on Darren Hill.
'Do you think the video of Benny Patterson made any difference to him being arrested?' Chalky was asking Allan.
'Jim and I were talking about that earlier, the truth is, we'll never know for sure. Personally I doubt it, they would never be able to use something like that as evidence, because he was effectively being tortured. He would have to have said something that wasn't already known, and which could then be checked out by the police and proved to be correct.'
'I still think it did some good because it shamed the police into going the extra mile.' said Jim, 'The video was being mentioned in the media, and people were demanding action against Patterson and Hill. Personally, I'm convinced it had some benefit.'
'Well,' said Chalky, 'We'll see the next time it happens.'
'You think there will be a next time, Chalky?' asked Allan.
'As long as there's a chance that the video of Patterson helped things along, I would be surprised if there wasn't a repeat. I'm guessing, of course.' he added quickly, before greeting the landlady of the Cross Keys with a smile,
'Hi Vera, you're looking particularly gorgeous tonight!
Vera Anderson was almost as wide as she was tall, and unlikely to win any beauty contests in the foreseeable future, but she gave a delighted laugh before playfully flicking Chalky with the cloth she carried on her shoulder.
'Douglas,' she called to her husband behind the bar, 'Don't give Chalky any more drink, he's obviously had too much already!'
'Get away with you, Vera, you know you're the best looking woman in the place.' insisted Chalky, a complement somewhat diminished by the absence of any female competition in the bar at that moment in time, however Vera had other matters on her mind.
'We're having a quiz in a couple of weeks time, the Keys against the Barge Inn, can I put your names down for the team?'
'Not mine, you can't!' spluttered Jim into his beer, 'The football team's my thinkology limit.'
Allan laughed, 'Me too! I reckon Chalky is your man for that job, though, he's a smart-arse!' Before he could protest, Vera had Chalky's name added to her list.
'I've roped in Rob and Elsie Histon, plus Chalky here, but if no-one else volunteers, I'll be back to see you boys,'She said, wagging a finger at Allan and Jim, 'So don't think you're off the hook yet!' And with that, she swept off.
Chapter 9
Stevie Henderson was mentally calculating how long it would take him to reach home. As a long haul truck driver on trans European routes, he was used to being away for weeks at a time, but still found himself counting down the minutes as he neared the end of a trip, especially when, like this one, he had been all the way to Turkey.
Half an hour and he would be in the ferry terminal at Calais, with plenty of time to catch the seven a.m. ferry to Dover, a bit of a snooze during the crossing, and assuming an easy passage through customs, he would be looking for a break somewhere off the M25. Frustratingly, he should already have been home by now, as he had been on schedule to catch a ferry the previous evening. Instead he had been directed to Audruicq, a little market town whose name he couldn't even pronounce. He had been given instructions on where to leave his trailer, and then he had to make himself scarce for the rest of the night. Have a meal, a drink or two, chase some french women, even go for a stroll along the canal, do what he pleased, just as long as he didn't return to pick up the trailer before five a.m. He tried not to think about what might have been added to his load.
His planning was interrupted by an unexpected call to his mobile, with new instructions he could scarcely comprehend. This, he thought, was really going to screw up his day, his plans for a nice easy jaunt home now completely out of the window. Instead there would be French police to deal with, customs and insurance people probably sniffing around and a very good chance of landing in deep shit. Every fibre of his being was telling him to refuse, but he daren't argue with these people, instead he had meekly submitted. Yes, he knew the lay-by they were talking about, he would be there in twenty minutes. Yes he would wait to be contacted. And no he wouldn't mention this to anybody. He barely waited for the connection to be cut before he started cursing to himself, a string of profanity that continued unabated as he searched for a spot to swing the big Scania around and head for his new rendezvous.
Ann Morrison didn't even make it to her office before Ian Hopkins stopped her to pass on the news.
'There's been another one!'
'Another......?'
'Another vigilante attack. On Darren Hill, no less.'
'You're kidding! Is it on video, same as the last one?'
'It sure is, it was originally posted on Darren's MyPals page, but although it has been removed from there, you can see it all over the net. I don't think the Hills will be very pleased about this one!'
'When did it appear?'
'Must have been the early hours of this morning, Brian was monitoring these social networking sites over the weekend and didn't spot anything.'
'All right, lets have a look at the Darren Hill show.
The video opened with a shot of Hill in what appeared