For Evil to Flourish. Dubya Ph.D Lorimer
chair smiling to himself while his young daughters practised their make-up skills on him. The giggling threesome had adorned daddy's hair with a huge set of pink rollers, given him bright red clown lips, Aunt Sally cheeks, and a wild excess of purple eye make-up, rounded off with a very fetching yellow bed-coat to protect his clean white shirt.
As Ann prepared to take a photo on her mobile phone, the girls excited squeals of 'Hi aunty Ann!' alerted him to her presence, causing him to sit bolt-upright. The resulting picture of a goggle-eyed, slack-jawed apparition wearing garish make-up had made it's way onto a number of spoof wanted posters distributed around the station. It was testament to his easy-going nature that he (eventually) forgave Ann, and started talking to her again when he encountered her at work, as opposed to flicking her the finger in a most unchristian way, and pretending to waft farts in her general direction.
'Okay, let's have a word with Darren Hill, see if he is willing to give us any information about this little incident, although I doubt he'll be willing to talk. I'll take Kit with me, and you take Brian. Start by looking into where this might have been filmed, presumably these clowns aren't driving around wearing masks and overalls, so someone might have witnessed them changing, maybe saw a vehicle, you never know. The last location had a connection with the Hills, perhaps this place does too, they have various workshops for their car sales and taxi and haulage businesses so I think we should start from that angle.'
Julie joined her family at the table where the others were already starting on the simple but extremely tasty lasagne and garlic bread she had prepared. Cooking was something that gave her both pride and pleasure, a skill she had learned from her late mother. Some of her happiest memories were of the kitchen at home when she was a small girl, her mother, and sometimes her gran too, the room full of laughter, the sounds and smells of eggs being whisked, flour mixed, and pans bubbling on the stove. Her heart ached at the memory. Cancer had taken both women before their time, a loss she still struggled to come to terms with. Perhaps that was why she felt the need to grasp the opportunity for fun and excitement that David had offered, why she wanted him so badly right now. Sometimes life was just too short to let a chance of happiness get away.
'This is terrific love,' said Allan, 'Really nice,' and even John, her youngest was nodding his agreement. Mandy, as usual was more interested in her mobile than anything to do with the family. Julie didn't even bother trying to make her leave it upstairs at mealtimes now, it simply wasn't worth the huffs and tantrums, another small defeat in the war between generations. She did enjoy the praise for her cooking, though it made her feel a little guilty, Allan having been particularly nice to her lately.
Mandy suddenly spoke,
'Dad, you used to live in Craigends, did you know someone called Darren Hill?'
'Not really,' he was shaking his head, 'I vaguely knew his uncle, George Hill, he was a year or so younger than me, and his aunt, Vicky, was a bit younger again. I used to see them sometimes at parties and suchlike, or swanning around in fancy cars. We were always warned not to have anything to do with them because their dad, Gerry Hill was supposed to be a gangster. Why do you ask?'
'There's a video of him on the net. Some guys in weird masks have him tied upside down, and they're trying to make him confess to dealing drugs and stuff.'
'Told you his family were gangsters.' Allan said.
John piped up,
'Is that the one where they tie a brick to his you-know-what, and then throw the brick out a window, that was a good one.'
Mandy was giggling,
'No, but I saw that one as well, he screamed like a girl!'
'I think I would have been screaming like a girl as well if I had been in his position,' laughed Allan.
'You wouldn't just be screaming like a girl, you would practically be a girl!' squealed Mandy.
'Would you mind not having this conversation at the table, young lady,' Julie spoke angrily, then to Allan,
'And you should be setting a better example!' the words coming out much sharper than she had intended, everyone looking at her in surprise.
'Sorry love,' Allan mumbled, and the meal carried on in subdued silence for a time. She knew what they would be thinking, mum's in one of her moods, Allan probably assuming it must be that time of the month again, although he wouldn't dare actually say so.
Perhaps it was her hormones? So what, she was entitled to be in a bad mood now and again, she had never claimed to be the perfect wife and mother. But deep down she knew what was wrong with her, and desperately wished that David would call.
Ann was almost home, but her mind was still at work, fretting over a pointless day spent trying to track down Darren Hill, and then when they did find him, learning nothing of any value. As expected, he had no interest in helping the police track down those responsible for his humiliation the previous night, (Ann suspected he was planning on meting out his own brand of justice to those responsible). He also claimed not to know where he had been held, something Ann absolutely refused to believe, and the claim that he couldn't remember how he got home was beyond laughable.
As expected, he maintained that the mention of a drugs shipment was a lie intended to save his neck, literally, and that neither he nor his family were involved with drugs in any way, the police could check any trucks returning to the country and they would find nothing. Something about the last comment had struck Ann as being just a bit too cocky, he seemed too confident for her liking, and the feeling had stayed with her all day. Just then her mobile rang. It was Ian Hopkins. She pressed the button on the hands-free,
'Yes Ian.'
'Hi, boss, thought you should know as soon as possible, my contact with the Borders Agency finally got back to me, they were told this morning by the French police that a Parker & Baldwin truck had been found burnt out in a lay-by on a main route towards Calais. Initial reports suggest there's little left of the cargo, and if there were drugs on board, they're either gone or burned to ash.'
'Oh bugger!' Ann couldn't help herself, she'd had the feeling the Hills were one step in front of them.
'Surely if there was a significant amount of heroin, forensics would find a trace of it?' she asked?'
'Apparently the fire brigade arrived while it was still smouldering and blasted it with water, so I would imagine it would be quite a job analysing what is left. Especially bearing in mind it was on French soil, and the truck was apparently en route from Turkey to the UK, so it's highly unlikely that the French are going to commit resources to something they won't regard as their problem. And of course, there is the possibility that the drugs were recovered from that truck and stashed somewhere, or perhaps hidden on another truck. It could even work in their favour. While everybody is looking for Parker & Baldwin trucks, they bring it in using another carrier.'
'You are a regular little bundle of joy, aren't you, surely there must be something we can get out of this?' She drummed her fingers on the wheel as she thought for a moment, then,
'I think you should get back in touch with your contact with the Borders Agency, make sure they are still looking for the drugs coming in, the Hills may try to turn this to their advantage, as you just suggested. Also, we should find out who, on the French side, we can sweet talk into checking for traces of drugs on the burnt out truck. In the meantime, we carry on as we were doing today, try and find where the video was filmed, and attempt to track down these vigilantes.'
'This guy, Jones his name is, was a bit vague, but implied they were on top of it, he mentioned there had been a customs seal on the truck and the driver admitted breaking it, supposedly to rescue some of the cargo from the fire, but Jones sounded suspicious.'
'Okay, if they are showing a serious interest, that lets us concentrate on our end.'
'All