‘Some of these people started drinking here when another Irish pub up the road was burned down in an arson attack a few years ago.’
‘Oh? Terrorism came a bit close to home, did it?’
‘Ah, well. No one was ever convicted of arson, so it might just have been kids, you know?’
‘Sure.’
‘No, really,’ said Doyle. ‘It was a decent place. Full of Brummie Irish, of course, but it served the best pint of Guinness in Birmingham.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
Doyle snorted.
‘Plastic paddies,’ he said. ‘You know what they say — a typical Brummie is the one wearing a shamrock in his turban.’
‘Very funny. You know what, Mr Doyle — I’m starting to get tired of the atmosphere in here.’
‘No, don’t go. We don’t get much female company in here.’
‘I can’t imagine why.’
Doyle looked past her shoulder and nodded resignedly.
‘Oh, how typical. You didn’t say you’d brought the boyfriend with you.’
Cooper stood over him, saying nothing. He did that pretty well, Fry thought. Maybe it would be better if he said nothing more often.
Nervously, Doyle stared into his glass. ‘I suppose you’re the police.’
‘You want to see our warrant cards?’
He flapped his hands anxiously. ‘No, no. Not in here. Let’s keep it friendly, all right?’
‘Suits us,’ said Fry. ‘Perhaps we could buy you another drink? That would look really friendly, wouldn’t it?’
‘Okay.’ Doyle looked up at Cooper, and tried a smile. ‘A malt whisky. Laphroaig would be lovely.’
Cooper didn’t smile back. His fixed stare and slightly unshaven look made him look a bit intimidating, as if he was a borderline psychopath who might lose control at any moment. He was getting good at that, too.
‘You could see if they’ve got anything non-alcoholic for me,’ said Fry.
Doyle waited until he had his drink, and took a swig of whisky that added an extra flush to his face.
‘So. Is this about the ex-copper who got killed last night?’
‘What do you know about that?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s just what everyone seems to be talking about today. So I thought… well, obviously I was wrong.’
‘If you do know anything…’ said Fry.
‘Of course.’ He took another sip of his Laphroaig. ‘I’ll be a helpful citizen.’
Fry didn’t altogether believe him. But the news of Andy Kewley’s death had undoubtedly been on the local news today, and would be in the evening papers later on. The murder of a former police officer was likely to create a few waves. It was certainly enough to take everyone’s attention off her for a while, which was a good thing right now.
‘So…’ said Fry.
Doyle frowned at her, as if he’d forgotten the original question.
‘William Leeson. That’s who I asked you about.’
‘Oh, yes. Will Leeson used to be my partner,’ he said.
‘We know that.’
‘Leeson and Doyle. We were small scale, never likely to be among the big boys. But I was quite happy with that. A steady criminal practice, it kept me in whisky. There’s no shortage of crime in Brum.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘But Leeson wasn’t happy with that. He had big ideas, got greedy. You’ve no idea the sort of people he got involved with. Anyone who had money, no matter what they did to earn it. He made a lot of enemies, did Will Leeson. And some worse friends.’
‘He got struck off, didn’t he?’ said Fry.
‘Damn right. It was only a matter of time. Trouble was, he took me down with him. Bastard.’
‘Tell me some of the people he was involved with.’
‘No way. I want to live.’
‘I can’t think why.’
Doyle snapped. ‘There were some of you lot, for a start. Dirty coppers. Birmingham was full of them. Maybe still is.’
Names?’ said Fry.
He shook his head. ‘Bollocks.’
Fry could see that one more drink would put Doyle beyond use.
‘All right. I need to talk to William Leeson. Tell me how I can find him, and we’ll leave you alone with your plastic paddies.’
Doyle looked from her to Cooper, and drew a beer mat towards him. Fry handed him a pen, and he scrawled an address and a mobile phone number in an unsteady hand.
‘That’s all you’re getting.’
Fry read the address. ‘It’ll do.’
Then he peered at her again, his eyes suggesting that his brain cells might finally be working properly.
‘I know who you are now,’ he said. ‘Listen — you’re better off staying out of it. Don’t chase after Will Leeson. You’ll regret it.’
‘Thanks for offering the legal advice, Mr Doyle. But I just dispensed with your services.’
He sighed.
‘All right, it’s up to you. Only — don’t punish the monkey, okay?’
Cooper hesitated on the pavement when they left the pub.
‘“Punish the monkey”? What did he mean?’
‘I’ve no idea, Ben.’
But Fry thought about it as they walked back to the car. There was an expression that people used when they didn’t want to deal with a minion, but only the boss. I’ll talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey. Was that what his reference meant? Don’t punish the monkey. Was it his way of saying that he was only a minion, doing what he was told? A bit like Don’t shoot the messenger.
Okay, then. But if Eddie Doyle was only the monkey, who was the organ grinder?
23
‘So how are you going to follow this up?’ asked Cooper. ‘You don’t know William Leeson, and he doesn’t know you.’
Fry wasn’t so sure about that. She had a feeling that Leeson knew who she was, only too well. She suspected that the mention of her name might send him running. And would he recognize her if he set eyes on her?
‘This is going to be a big favour, Ben,’ she said. ‘I’ll understand if you want to bail out now. You’ve done more than enough.’
‘Just ask,’ said Cooper.
She gave him the beer mat with the mobile phone number scrawled on it. ‘He definitely won’t know who you are.’
An hour later, they were sitting in Fry’s car on Lodge Street, near Winson Green Prison. Leeson had told Cooper that he would be ‘at the Green’. It didn’t mean much to Cooper, but this was a familiar location to Fry.
In fact, Winson Green prison was synonymous with Brum in certain parts of society. Recently, the old Victorian institution had undergone an investment programme and was now officially known as HMP Birmingham. Its capacity had been expanded to cope with the influx of prisoners sent there by judges and magistrates on the regional circuit. There were fourteen hundred prisoners currently enjoying the benefits of a new sports hall and
