Chapter 20

Beck

He had some options. He could park up in the street and watch the house, he could knock on the doors of a few neighbours. Instead, he went for the direct approach and simply pushed the doorbell. A man slightly older than him opened the door.

“Tim Beck?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“I’m Detective Chief Inspector Baddeley” He flashed his identity card. “I wonder if I can have a word with you about your time on the regional drug squad?”

The man’s face visibly paled. He gave a quick look over his shoulder then stepped out, pulling the door behind him but not closing it fully.

“Look, this is not something I want to discuss. It all happened years ago. It’s water under the bridge now.”

Thurstan released a slight smile. “I can understand where you’re coming from, but it would help me very much to understand what you had to put up with. It must have been very stressful. My information is you were a good copper who got caught up in something you didn’t like and got out as soon as you could. I just want you to tell me about the general situation. I’m particularly interested in Freddy Walsh and Reg Barker.”

Tim Beck’s face went even paler. “I can’t help you.” A female voice called from behind, “Tim? Who is it?” He called back, “It’s just an old colleague, Lois.” He gave Thurstan a pleading look. He got nothing in return. “Wait a minute,” he said, stepped back in and returned with a jacket on. “I’m just nipping out for ten minutes, Lois. I’ve got my keys.” He closed the door and said, “There’s a café around the corner.”

On the way, Thurstan explained the nature of his enquiry, what he already knew and what he didn’t. Over coffee, Beck, in turn, explained the issues he’d encountered during and after his time in the drug unit.

“Look, I’m sorry about before but my wife has always been a bit insecure and on the possessive jealous side. It used to make her very argumentative and virtually anything could kick her off. When she started, she didn’t stop. Over the years, I’ve slept in the shed, in bus stops and on a few park benches. I took to not telling her about work because she was never happy with me being in the Police. She had this unrealistic idea of the lure of policewomen and the general danger faced by police officers. When I got the squad job, I did it for my career, thinking the experience would help with promotion and more money but she wasn’t happy with that either and it didn’t take me long to realise the place wasn’t what I thought it would be.

“After they scattered it to the four winds, in the eyes of colleagues, my brief association with the squad tainted me, one way or another. I was viewed as either probably bent or a dangerous whistleblower. I got fed up putting out calls for assistance and either no one turning up or taking far too long. The second time I got hospitalised, I decided I’d had enough. I got out and trained to be an accountant. I work from home now and she’s a much happier woman, but” - a little smile escaped - “then again, she is on medication. It’s just any contact with the police feeds her anxiety. So, I’ll tell you what you want to know, broad outlines, but I’m not getting involved. No statements, nothing like that and if I find my name’s getting mentioned, I’ll deny we ever met.”

Thurstan nodded compliance then asked, “How bad was the corruption on the squad?”

Beck rubbed his forehead. “Look, I haven’t got time to go into details. She’ll be fretting already. Let’s just say if it hadn’t been as bad as it was, they’d have probably taken a few scalps. There was a Superintendent, Chief Inspector, an Inspector, two Sergeants and twelve Constables and every one of them was up to something. They were taxing local small-time dealers who, by paying up, got to carry on as normal. They stole from larger drug finds and sold it themselves. Once, a couple of them went a bit too far and ripped off one of the big boys who turned out to have the Superintendent firmly in their pocket. He made them give it all back and apologise.”

The DCI sipped his coffee, thoughtfully. “How did you get involved?”

Beck slouched back in his chair and sighed. “I worked with Freddy and Reg. They sort of adopted me. Freddy wasn’t such a bad bloke when you got to know him. He told me once he was a victim of circumstance and two ex-wives. Anyway, we did a job and, when we got back in the car, Reg gave me an envelope stuffed with money. I refused to take it, but he got very insistent and issued a couple of threats. I was younger than them. Money was a bit tight, so I took it. But being somewhat naïve, I went to the chief inspector. He told me I could be his eyes and ears and report only to him.

“A week later, him, the Inspector and Reg dragged me down to the locker room and burst my locker. They’d stashed packets of cocaine and heroin in there. It was made quite plain no one would believe me and I should take the money and shut up. The Inspector even said it would be a shame if anything were to happen to my ‘pretty little wife’.

“After that, Freddy took me out for a pint and told me to play the game, keep my head down and enjoy the money. He said everyone was doing it and if I spoiled it for them, I’d have a lot of very angry people after me. I did what I was told but I was never comfortable with it. I knew if I put my papers in to leave straight away, they’d think I was going to grass on them so over the next few months I made a point of telling Freddy about all the problems I was having with the wife. When I eventually put in my request to be posted out, Freddy vouched for me, told them it was like I was saying, my missus was making life very hard for me. He also told me if I ever considered telling Complaints and Discipline, I’d find myself in a world of shit. They had people on the inside there, friends, people who were sharing the spoils.

“Anyway, after I left, there were a few odd incidents - a bag of white powder left in my garage and an envelope of money left on the worktop in the kitchen. They even had two tame old-arse traffic men they used for stops every now and then. I got pulled by them a few times and breathalysed. Luckily, I hadn’t been drinking. They were letting me know they could get to me.” He finished his drink and rose from the chair. “I need to get back. Thanks for the coffee and please don’t be offended when I say I don’t want you to contact me again.”

Thurstan shook his hand. “I won’t and thanks for giving me some time. I’ve just one more question though. Did you ever see Freddy and Reg again?”

“I never saw Reg again, but I did see Freddy, not long after the unit was disbanded. I asked him if there was going to be discipline hearings or prosecutions. Obviously, I was worried I might get caught up in it all. He said they’d been told it would be catastrophic for the Force if the whole truth got out, so the new Chief Constable decided to deal with it all on the quiet. Freddy was sent to the HQ control room, on the radio, constant supervision. He said he was glad it was all over because it had become a nightmare for him. Apparently, after I left, Reg lost the plot and was out of control. I had to smile to myself at that one because I’m not sure Reg was ever under control.”

“Did he say what happened to Reg?”

Beck sighed and glared at the DCI. “You’re taking the piss now. I have to go.” He started to walk away but then stopped. “He told me Reg resigned a few weeks before it all went tits up. Freddy reckoned he’d been tipped off. I’ve never even heard his name mentioned since.”

Thurstan paid for the coffees and checked his watch. He needed to get a move on if he was to get to police HQ, park his car and walk to Holy Corner in the city centre. At the junction of Lord Street, Church Street, Paradise Street and Whitechapel, there was a stand selling hot dogs and burgers, next to one offering Liverpool and Everton football scarves. He was meeting Leroy Johns there. The text he’d received from Gandalph had told him that.

****

Leroy wasn’t too difficult to spot. Clean-shaven with dreadlocks and an Everton shirt, he stood around 6 feet tall and had a look of the singer Eddy Grant about him. He was eating a beefburger in a bun.

Introductions done, Thurstan ventured, “I thought Rastas were sort of vegetarian?”

Leroy countered, “I’m not strict. You look like a good Christian lad, but I doubt if you go to church often, if ever.”

Wandering over to some seating and sitting in the sun, Leroy said, “Anyway, you’ve not come here to discuss religion. I’m told you want to talk about Lennie Turner?”

Thurstan told him about his conversation with the ex-prison warder and asked him to tell him whatever he could.

Leroy spoke quietly, “Yeah, it was 1989. I would’ve been about twenty-four. It was just after the protest. Fifty from D Wing took to the roof for three days, remember that?”

The DCI didn’t, he was still in the Army then.

“Well, it was all about the shit conditions. When Lennie first came in, there were people on the landing giving him a hard time. They can smell weakness and fear. That screw you mentioned was one of the few decent ones. I knew him from a previous time in there and we got on OK. He asked me to keep an eye on Lennie. The lad should never have been there. For all intents and purposes, he looked normal, but to me and the screw at least, when you got him to open up to you, it was clear he wasn’t. These days, they’d say he was high-functioning Asperger's. I think they lump it in with autism now. You see, he wasn’t your simple everyday fantasist, and he had no real ability to tell when people were taking the piss, which didn’t help. He took everything literally. He believed what he was telling me was true.”

“And what was he telling you?”

Leroy smiled. “He was working for MI6 or MI5, looking for a Russian spy.” He chuckled. “I mean, obviously, he wasn’t. No one would ever have employed him for that. He said he’d been sworn to secrecy, but it didn’t stop him telling me or the first person who was nice to him, which was what made him attract unwanted attention in the first place when it got blabbed around the landing. Anyway, I sorted that out. No one in there was going to mess with me. I did martial arts, still do, and I had a reputation. Mickey Fenton, however, had a bigger reputation and it was well known inside that I had his complete trust.”

Thurstan added. “You were an enforcer for him.”

Leroy replied, with a little smirk, “That’s probably what your intelligence records say. I was his driver. I did whatever he asked me to do. If that meant someone got hurt, it was their fault. I simply defended myself. Anyway, you’ll have looked at my record, so you’ll know I’ve no convictions other than a bit of joy riding when I was a young teenager.” He paused. “The bizzies never caught me driving,” he said with pride.

“There was the Porsche 911 you had to abandon in Cheshire. They found you hiding in a garden nearby.”

Leroy came back with, “I was looking for me football.” They both laughed before Thurstan got back on track. “I believe you left a message for the warder you knew?”

“Yeah. I was on remand for burglary. A cooked-up charge. They had me fingerprints from just inside the entry point on the roof of this electrical shop. I was appearing in court, on committal, one of those where they decide if there’s enough evidence to send you up to the Crown Court. Well, I knew I’d walk away that afternoon because I could prove I’d been doing a roofing job on the place the week before. I’d learned enough about roofing as part of the sentencing for the car jobs, and the firm with the contract used me when they were short-handed. Besides, I had an alibi supplied through Mickey Fenton.” 

He saw the look on Thurstan’s face. “I know how it sounds, but I never did the job. The real alibi was - I was on me own, watching a video at home, which I was. As alibis go, you know yourself, that’s pretty shit.

“Anyhow, when I told Lennie all this, simply as a way of gaining more of his confidence, he decided to tell me about those bastard screws who were grooming the weaker ones for their fun and games down in the kitchens. They’d been touching him up, testing him out. He didn’t like it at all. He started crying. Luckily, I’d gone into his cell, so no one saw him or else, once I didn’t come back from court, the arseholes on the wing would have started bullying him again.

“Anyway, that screw, Riley I think his name was, yeah, mister Riley, well, he wasn’t there so I left a message with another one for him to keep a close eye on Lennie and tell Riley if he asked Lennie what was wrong, I’d told him he had to say. The screw said he would. I saw Riley, by accident, years later. He’d been off sick he said. By the time he came back, it was too late.”

There were a few moments silence, then Leroy said, “By the way, Mickey Fenton sends his regards. I wasn’t going to meet you originally, couldn’t understand why you were bothered, but I was curious who you were, so I called Mickey. He said you were OK.”

Thurstan chuckled. “High praise indeed. So, you still have contact?”

Leroy nodded. “Yeah, not regular like. When I’d decided I wanted out, wanted to do something my kids could be proud of, he funded the outreach project for me. I could never have afforded the place. The council were no help. Me left-wing credentials weren’t left wing enough for them. Mickey’s never asked for anything in return. He likes to think of himself as a bit of a philanthropist these days. Who’s to say he’s not.”

They stood up, shook hands and Thurstan said, “Tell Mickey, thanks, and give him my regards. Oh, and best of luck with the outreach project. Here’s my card and if you get any problems with overbearing police officers, give me a call. If I can help, I will.”

Leroy smiled. “I appreciate it. I should be OK though. The local bizzies aren’t a bad lot.”