Fear the Past Page 22

  “Scott Tarbet,” Caslin confirmed, naming DCI Bradley’s cousin and witness to the latter’s apparent death.

  “She’s his daughter?” Hunter asked, looking to Holt.

  “The one and only,” the DC confirmed. “The only child of Scott and Margaret Tarbet.”

  “You thought he was holding out on us when we spoke to him, didn’t you?” Hunter asked Caslin. “How did she end up with Jody Wyer?”

  “I don’t know,” Caslin said, mulling it over. “Did Jody even know who she was?”

  “I’ll wager her father has something to do with it,” Hunter said. “Shall we pay him another visit?”

  “Hold fire on that,” Caslin said, turning to Holt. “Do you know where she is?”

  Holt shook his head, “No. She was an avid poster on social media, doing so daily until about a month ago and then she dropped off the site and hasn’t posted since.”

  “She was dating Wyer by then. Any sign of him on her feed?” Hunter asked.

  “Nope. Scanning through it, she was a pretty upbeat character espousing the virtues of democracy, vegetarianism and… dancing cats…”

  “Cats?” Caslin asked. Holt shook his head.

  “Never mind. The point is, pretty usual stuff until about five months ago. Then the general mood of her posts changed and I think I know why,” Holt said, closing down that particular image and scrolling across to another. He opened that up. It was a shot at a cemetery. “The anniversary of her mother’s death. Looks like it hit her hard.”

  “How did she die?” Hunter asked.

  “Cancer,” Holt confirmed. “But, judging from the details Louise has been sharing, she put down underfunding of the NHS alongside stress as a major contributory factor. She posted several times about how she wished she could have taken her mother abroad for treatment.”

  “Stress? Caused by what?” Caslin asked, intrigued.

  Holt shrugged. “No idea but I’ll see what else I can find. Needless to say, she’s not been active recently, so I’ve no lead on where she is.”

  “Any indication of Bradley visiting Tarbet since he returned to the UK?” Caslin asked, looking up at the noticeboards and casting his mind back to the telematics data that Holt had acquired.

  “He didn’t go anywhere near Whitby,” Holt confirmed. Caslin walked over to the boards and began tracing the routes they knew Bradley had taken revisiting them in his mind as he did so.

  “He went out to Flamborough Point though. That’s on the east coast but nowhere near Whitby,” Caslin said, looking over his shoulder. Hunter came alongside.

  “But if you’re looking for a safe place to meet a dead man…” Hunter suggested. “Pretty much guaranteed to ensure there’s no chance of their meeting being witnessed by anyone who knows them.”

  “But to what end?” Caslin said aloud. His father thought Jody was looking for confirmation that Keith Wyer wasn’t involved in anything untoward but now Caslin wasn’t so sure. There was another possibility opening up before him. Bearing in mind the co-conspirators’ agreement, Keith died well before he would have had the opportunity to claim his share of the proceeds. Similarly, if Scott Tarbet’s account were to be believed, he was substantially out of pocket when his vessel was burnt out and the insurance payment was withheld. “What if… they are all working towards the same goal?”

  “Money?” Hunter queried.

  “The money or the gold,” Caslin confirmed. “There are those who lost out such as Tarbet and Wyer senior. Then there’re those who are greedy like Bradley and MacEwan. Our next task besides figuring out when and where MacEwan will make his move is to nail down their motivations. If we can do that, then we’ll know where those people,” he pointed to the key individuals listed on the board, “fit with one another.”

  “And let’s not forget those who have been robbed?” Hunter added, thinking of Fuller and the other gang members currently serving time.

  “Of both wealth… and liberty,” Caslin said, glancing at her with a knowing look.

  “So, whose door do we lay Jody Wyer’s murder at?” Holt asked.

  Caslin’s gaze drifted across the noticeboards, the pictures of the dead, the likely suspects and the links between them. There was a case that could be made against any number of them if the truth were known. It was frustrating.

  “We’re close,” he said, in answer to the question. “This is all going to shake down in the coming days, I can feel it. We need to be ready to move as and when they do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The unmistakable sound of a multitude of metal keys coming together carried to him as Caslin waited. The door creaked open on its hinges, reinforced metal and the better part of two inches thick. The prison officer appeared beckoning him to pass through. Caslin thanked his escort and joined the newcomer in the adjoining room. Following the attack on his father, Caslin left nothing to chance. Pete Fuller was placed within HMP Full Sutton’s Close Supervision Centre. As they walked, Caslin could feel the difference within moments. Full Sutton was a maximum-security prison but here, within the centre, those procedures were elevated to another level entirely. For the majority of the day the prisoners were often kept in isolation from one another. Many of them had extreme personality disorders to go along with their criminal convictions and couldn’t be trusted to interact with others and therefore when given their exercise time they did so alone.

  “Any famous names in here at the moment?” Caslin asked his escort casually.

  The officer glanced at him over his shoulder. “Plenty who are notorious. Don’t know about famous. Did you have anyone in mind?” he asked as an inmate began shouting somewhere nearby. Caslin couldn’t tell from where. A number of other voices picked up the baton and soon the jeering reverberated all around them.

  “Didn’t you have that guy the papers called the UK’s Hannibal?” Caslin asked, referencing a murderer sentenced to a full-life term back in the 1970s.

  “Used to,” the officer confirmed as they reached yet another security door. He looked up at the camera mounted above the door, itself securely fixed behind a protective screen. There was an audible buzz and the lock clicked to signal the door was unlocked. The escort pushed it open. “He was moved to the Monster Mansion last year and they’re welcome to him.”

  “The Monster Mansion?” Caslin asked, following. Once they were through the door was closed and this time the securing of the locks sounded as a deadened thud. They were well into the bowels of the prison here. Metaphorically speaking, Caslin felt the sun didn’t shine anymore.

  “Wakefield’s equivalent,” the officer explained. “They get most of the big-time psychos, sociopaths and nutters who like to eat people.”

  “You must miss him,” Caslin replied with a dry sense of humour. There was a grunt in response that Caslin took as unappreciative of his sarcasm. They came to another locked door at the end of a short corridor. The officer opened it and they entered the room. Inside was a table and two chairs. Caslin noted all three were bolted to the ground. That alone was mildly unsettling. He was ushered through.

  “You know the procedure?” the officer asked. Caslin indicated he did but the rules were explained to him once more. He was advised to keep his distance, not to interact in any physical way and that they were under constant surveillance from a camera mounted in the ceiling. He had already surrendered his personal effects, mobile phone, wallet and even his belt was considered unacceptable to take with him. “Wait here and we’ll bring him to you,” the officer said once he was happy the protocols were fully understood. Caslin wasn’t too concerned about Fuller. His request to place him inside the centre was considered reasonable under the circumstances. He sold it as a way to ensure Fuller could no longer direct his associates beyond the walls.

  However, if he was honest, his motivation had been less about that and more an act of spite in retaliation for the attack on his family. Holt’s revelation about his father’s involvement in this case left Caslin in something of a
dilemma. Was Fuller sending him a message that his family were touchable or was the attack aimed squarely at his father? Perhaps it was both. Either way, Caslin chose to respond in kind.

  He didn’t have long to wait. Within a few minutes, the door to the room opened and Pete Fuller shuffled in. His feet and hands were manacled between ankle and wrists, minimising the length of the steps he could take. He looked older than at their last meeting, arguably suffering from the stricter regime and lack of creature comforts the prison’s black-market could provide. Within the centre such luxuries were far harder to come by even for someone as adept as Fuller. He was deposited into his chair and he sank back drawing breath as he eyed Caslin, standing on the other side of the room with his back to the wall. His lips parted in a thin smile, the eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

  “Lovely to see you, Inspector Caslin,” Pete Fuller said, the smile broadening. He clasped his hands together in front, interlocking the fingers. Caslin looked to the accompanying prison officer.

  “You can leave us,” he said. The officer cast a glance in his direction and then another at Fuller but didn’t question the request.

  “Behave yourself, Fuller,” he said as he approached the door in an authoritative tone. The prisoner tilted his head slightly to the left but his eyes never left Caslin nor did the smile leave his face. The door slammed shut and Caslin heard the key turn in the lock.

  “Alone at last,” Fuller said. His eyes scanned the room drifting around the plain walls and back to the table in front of him. He attempted to look beneath it but couldn’t angle his body shape to do so because the chair was fixed in place.

  “Lost something?” Caslin asked.

  “I don’t see a recorder,” Fuller stated. “And you haven’t brought one of your colleagues with you.”

  “Your point?”

  “This an unofficial visit, is it?” he asked, grinning. “How’s the family?”

  Caslin took a slow deliberate step forward and then launched himself across the room catching the inmate totally by surprise. He grasped Fuller’s shirt firmly, first pushing him backwards before pulling him forward and slamming his face against the table. “My kids were there!” Caslin snarled, wrenching Fuller back upright and leaning in with fury written across his face. For his part, Fuller, red-faced and wide-eyed attempted to throw himself toward Caslin and land a blow with his forehead but the latter was wise to it and retreated just out of reach. Caslin sent an open-handed slap with the palm of his hand against the side of Fuller’s head. The inmate wrestled with his restraints but was powerless to respond.

  “You’re a big man, aren’t you, Caslin?” Fuller hissed at him, spittle dropping from his mouth as he spoke. “You think you can walk over me just as yer old man once did, huh? Is that it? Bent coppers run in the family…” Fuller’s breathing was ragged, the adrenalin coursing through him.

  Caslin took a step back seeking to calm himself. He hadn’t known how he would approach the discussion and was shocked by his own level of aggression. He was astonished at the speed with which he lost control. The realisation struck him that such outbursts were no longer confined to his past. That unnerved him.

  “They were my kids,” Caslin said, placing clenched fists on the table opposite the chained prisoner. “If you so much as look at my children again, I will bury you.”

  Fuller glared at him still breathing heavily but the anger dissipating as the seconds passed. “Your father robbed me of nearly thirty years.”

  “No. He took from you what you stole from others. He’s not why you’re in here,” Caslin countered.

  “He put me here while he’s out there spending my money.”

  “David MacEwan put you in here.”

  “MacEwan?” Fuller questioned, his eyes narrowing. Not for the first time, Caslin took pause. Fuller watched him intently as if he was assessing the validity of the statement. “He hasn’t got the balls.”

  “You didn’t know,” Caslin said. Now it was his turn to smile. “All this time here was me thinking you were ahead of the curve and I was playing catch up and… you had no idea?”

  “You’re messing with me,” Fuller said but his expression belied the assumption. The final pieces were fitting into the jigsaw puzzle in his mind and the scale of the deceit was coalescing.

  “How frustrating it must be for you,” Caslin said, glancing around the room, “to learn of this whilst you are stuck in here.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “By the time you get out of the centre, let alone your jail cell, MacEwan will be in the wind. Taking all your money… and your gold… with him. He’s been playing you for nearly three decades. I’m willing to wager you thought he was safeguarding your share whilst all the time he’s been setting you up. You and everyone else.”

  Fuller kept his counsel, Caslin watching as the fury steadily built within him. Finally, he spoke, “There’s always a way.”

  “If you can find him. He’s been planning this for months if not years.”

  “I’ll find him,” Fuller replied in an icy tone.

  “There is another way.”

  “And that is?”

  “You give him to me.”

  “Fuck off, Caslin.”

  “Think about it. There’s no way I’m going to let MacEwan leave the country. He’s making arrangements to do so as we speak. The only way you can be sure of getting to him is to help me.”

  “And what would that do for me?” Fuller asked.

  “You’ll know where to find him.”

  “He’ll be inside,” Fuller said. Caslin nodded.

  “And a man with your connections can always get to him within a prison. Where could he run to?”

  “Aiding and abetting, Inspector Caslin?” Fuller asked.

  Caslin shrugged, “Once he’s jailed that’s my job done. MacEwan becomes the responsibility of the prison service. What do I care?” Caslin argued. Fuller sat back thinking it over. “Of course, you could take your chances. Perhaps MacEwan will slip past us, get out of the country and disappear. Perhaps you’re right and you will be able to find him. He’ll only have an eighteen-month head start.”

  “I won’t have to wait.”

  “Oh… right,” Caslin said, leaning against the wall and folding his arms in front of him. “You can rely on Carl and Ashton to step up. The only problem with that plan is that I have them locked up at Fulford Road. Due to the overwhelming evidence amassed against them for Clinton Dade’s murder, I was able to extend their custody to the thirty-six-hour mark and they’ll be officially charged this afternoon.”

  “You bastard! They didn’t do it. They’ve being fitted up and you bloody know it,” Fuller challenged him.

  “Yes. You’re right, I do,” Caslin countered. “But that’s the thing about the law. It doesn’t matter what I know only what I can prove and I can place your boys at the scene. It’s not too big a leap for a jury to put the gun in their hands and thanks to joint enterprise it won’t matter who pulled the trigger. They’ll both go down for it. Maybe we can arrange a family reunion here at Full Sutton, what do you think?”

  “I’ll see your father in here too,” Fuller bit back.

  “He made his choice and he’ll have to live with the consequences,” Caslin stated coldly. Allowing the conversation to drop, he waited. The isolation of Fuller’s incarceration played into his hands. Caslin was banking on Fuller being ignorant of his sons’ release. Although confident it still remained to be seen if he could get this one over the line. After what felt like an age, Fuller sat forward. Placing his elbows on the table and bringing his hands together, he made a tent with his fingers.

  “And what makes you so sure I know where MacEwan will be?”

  Caslin came to the table and sat down on the free chair directly opposite him. “Because you know MacEwan and he will have found a way to let you know what he was doing with the gold. Otherwise you would have suspected him long ago. Clearly you didn’t which means you trust him. Misplaced tr
ust as it happens. The money’s gone, Pete,” Caslin argued. “What you can do now is ensure MacEwan gets what he deserves.”

  Fuller met Caslin’s eye, “I can always earn more money.”

  “Earn is an interesting choice of words but… yes, you can.”

  “Know this, Caslin,” Fuller said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, delivering the words with menace. “This may well allow you to get your hands MacEwan… but it sure as hell isn’t going to keep me from your father.”

  Caslin felt his blood run cold. “I know you’ve got everyone who wronged you in your sights but… I’m sure there’s a compromise to be had.” Fuller flinched almost imperceptibly but the movement was there, nonetheless. He was curious. “There must be something we can do to… alleviate the situation.”

  Fuller sat back glancing up at the camera in the ceiling and then back to Caslin. “What do you have in mind?”

  “My father never touched his share of the money. Everything he had is safe. None of it is traceable as far as I know and sitting in various accounts on the continent.”

  “Just what are you offering, Inspector Caslin?” Fuller asked, the reappearance of the thin smile crossing his lips once again.

  “You know what I’m offering.”

  “I want to hear you say the words,” Fuller said in a whisper.

  Caslin took a deep breath. “The money he took… in exchange for his life.”

  “There… that wasn’t so hard,” Fuller replied, grinning. “One more thing, Inspector.”