‘Sean,’ Magda impatiently said, ‘the interview with Parker is starting.’ She glanced across to the DCI’s inner office. Chairs had been arranged at the end of the man’s desk.
‘About time,’ Ransford tutted as they appeared in his doorway. ‘Fuller’s been letting him stew.’
Sean peered at the view of Parker on the desk monitor. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, shoulders hunched, hand pressed between his knees, which were rapidly bouncing up and down.
‘Looks like he needs the toilet,’ Magda stated. ‘Sir, I’ve checked the name of the female who was sighted in Majorca.’
Ransford’s head immediately turned. ‘Yes?’
‘False identity, it seems.’
‘Wasn’t a credit card used?’
‘It was. We’re talking a complete alias: credit card, National Insurance number, passport. It’s all hollow.’
Ransford scowled. ‘A professional then. Someone who manoeuvred McGhee into a situation, drugged him and got him into the sea. Is that what you think?’
‘I do. And then she was off the island within hours.’
‘You found the flight she was on?’
‘Sir?’ Sergeant Troughton had ducked his head round the open door.
‘Two seconds,’ Ransford shot back, attention still on Magda. ‘Go on.’
‘Yes. She went in and out of Birmingham International.’
‘Birmingham? So the person came back to the UK.’
‘Yes. Her flight back was on Thursday the ninth, shortly before noon.’
He turned to Sean. ‘Which means the female you mentioned as being with Lee Goodwin … it could be her.’
‘It’s possible,’ Sean replied.
‘Sir,’ Troughton said again, stepping fully into the room. ‘Sorry, but you need to know this. It’s Jordan Hughes. His body’s just been found.’
Sean wasn’t sure if he’d heard the office manager correctly. Magda and Ransford had similar looks of astonishment as they turned to the sergeant.
‘His body?’ Ransford asked. ‘Where?’
‘Audenshaw. End of a country lane beside a sewage works.’
‘Was he in water?’ asked Sean.
‘No.’
‘And it’s him?’ Ransford demanded. ‘How do we know?’
‘The officers have the mug shot circulated by DS Fuller. It’s him.’
‘How did he die?’
‘Cling film wrapped round his head.’
‘Were his hands tied?’ Magda asked.
‘That wasn’t mentioned.’
‘You’re thinking a plastic tie,’ Ransford said. ‘Get over, Magda, will you? We need to know what the hell went on.’
She got up and strode swiftly from the room, Troughton in pursuit.
Ransford picked a biro off his desk and hurled it at the wall. ‘Christ! What the fuck is going on here? Did he die before or after Anthony Brown? Because if it was before, that means someone else carried out that murder!’
The sound of Fuller’s voice started coming from Ransford’s speakers and Sean turned his attention to the screen.
‘This is DS Partington. He’ll be sitting in on our meeting.’
The two detectives were standing before the interview room table. Partington was leaning across, a hand outstretched.
Reluctantly, Parker shook. ‘Who are you with?’
‘Greater Manchester Police.’
Parker dropped the man’s hand, sat back and crossed his arms. ‘Yes, but which bit?’
‘XCalibre. I work in intelligence.’
‘The gang unit?’ Parker asked, looking surprised.
‘Given what happened outside the casino yesterday,’ Fuller said, ‘we thought it best to get XCalibre’s input.’
Parker’s head shook from side to side. ‘Lee, Phil and Nick? You’re bloody puddled if you think that’s got anything to do with the casino thing. I’ve said: it’s Hughes. It’s all Hughes!’
‘Mr Parker, please calm down,’ Fuller said. ‘There are several other developments—’
‘Have you not found the bastard?’
‘Not as yet.’
Sean turned to his senior officer. ‘Hughes being dead. One bit of news we keep back?’
Ransford nodded. ‘You’re learning, DC Blake, you’re learning.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Parker cursed. ‘My life’s at risk here, and you lot—’
‘We’re prepared to put you in a safe house,’ Fuller interrupted. ‘As a temporary measure.’
‘About fucking time.’
‘Depending on what we are able to resolve today.’
Parker blinked. ‘You piece of shit.’
Fuller raised a finger. ‘It’s time to stop messing us about. What is your connection to Anthony Brown?’
‘I’ve bloody told you. We got up to no good back at school. His son plays in the same—’
Fuller extracted a sheet of paper from his folder. ‘I told you Brown’s death has allowed us a look into his financial affairs. You’ve been very generous over the years to one of Manchester’s major criminals, haven’t you?’
Parker didn’t look at the document.
‘Would you class Anthony Brown as your business partner? Or your boss?’ Fuller’s voice was soft. ‘Stop with the bullshit, Carl. Or that safe house I mentioned? Forget about it.’
Parker’s head dipped for a second. ‘What do you want me to say? The bloke had me by the bollocks. He had dozens of people by the bollocks. That was his power. But it didn’t make me part of his set-up. He just took money off me.’
‘For debts you’d accumulated through gambling?’
‘Yes.’
‘What else?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What other arrangements did he have with you?’
Parker’s eyes shifted to the closed folder. ‘He called on me to do work on the occasional vehicle. Is that what you’re getting at?’
‘What kinds of vehicle?’
‘I don’t know. Cars. I just let his people bring them to the workshop. I wasn’t even there.’
‘So you had no idea what your premises were being used for? Didn’t any of your employees mention the nature of the work?’
‘OK, the vehicles were probably iffy. Most of Brown’s activities were, as you well know.’ He shrugged. ‘What could I do? The less I knew the better. That’s how I dealt with it.’
‘How about your relationship with Kevin Rowe?’ Partington asked. ‘How did that work?’
Parker’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did it work? Well, let me think, we’d talk on the phone. Sometimes face to face. But normally with our kids running about close by while they kicked a football. He coached my lad’s fucking football team! Fuck’s sake.’ He turned away from the detectives.
‘What does the name Flannigan mean to you?’ Partington asked.
Parker kept his eyes averted. ‘Nothing.’
‘The Flannigan family of Liverpool?’
He glanced briefly at the intelligence officer. ‘I’ve heard of them, of course. They run most of that city.’ He now looked at Fuller. ‘The shooting at the casino. You’re saying that was them?’
Fuller stared back impassively.
Parker tapped a finger on the table. ‘Are you talking about this safe house because of Hughes or the Flannigans?’
‘You tell us,’ Fuller replied.
‘Why would the Flannigans come after me? I keep telling you, I’m not part of Brown’s set-up.’
‘And the more we look at you, Brown, Goodwin, Nordern and Rowe the more we find that ties you all together,’ Fuller responded.
‘Jesus.’ Parker clutched his head with both hands. ‘It’s like dealing with fucking robots. Believe what you want. As long as me and my family are safe, what do I care?’