‘She was trafficked by men such as McIntyre. If it weren’t McIntyre, it would have been someone else; the man had his fingers in many pies.’
‘Thank you, Mr Stanford.’ Larry said. ‘People have died, and the chains are being rattled. Other people could well die, and we don’t want it to be you.’
Larry got out of the car, opened the door for Stanford, shook his hand and wished him well. Before leaving, Stanford walked around to Wendy’s side of the car, opened her door and thanked her.
As he shuffled down the street, Larry and Wendy could only see a tired old man.
***
Jacob had attempted to make the phone call, but with his hands shaking so much it was impossible until he had drunk two whiskies to calm him down. He had not only known Stephen Palmer and Liz Spalding; he had also known Hamish McIntyre in the past when he’d lived in the area at the start of his career. He had been just a local hoodlum then, but Jacob knew him well enough to occasionally have a chat and a drink in the pub with him.
Outside the pub, Jacob lit a cigarette. He punched in the number; at the other end of the line, a phone rang. It was answered by a man Jacob didn’t know.
‘Can I talk to Mr McIntyre?’ Jacob said. ‘It’s a matter of some importance.’
‘You can tell me.’
‘I prefer to talk to Mr McIntyre. Someone’s been nosing around, asking questions. I thought he should know.’
‘Are you looking for money?’
‘Money for information, no way. All I want is a quiet life.’
‘Smart man,’ Armstrong said. ‘I’ll get him for you.’
Armstrong walked through the house, found Hamish watching the news on the television. He handed over the phone. ‘It’s for you,’ he said. ‘Someone sticking their nose in.’
Hamish took the phone and put it to his ear. ‘What is it?’
‘Hamish, long time,’ Jacob said.
‘Get to the point.’
‘Jacob Wolfenden. We used to get together years ago, down the pub, have a chat.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember. How are you?’
‘All the better for talking to you. Someone’s been asking questions, and I don’t want to be involved.’
‘Trouble for me?’
‘There’s a man who says he’s related to someone who died a long time ago.’
‘Give me the facts and don’t worry, Jacob.’
‘He’s asking about a woman with a butterfly tattoo, just above her wrist on the inside of her arm.’
Hamish remembered when Samantha had come home drunk one night, the tattoo proof that she had made a fool of herself.
‘Why does he want to know?’ Hamish asked. He had been sitting down before, but now he was up and walking around. Jacob, he knew, was a man who never asked questions, and had never committed an illegal activity in his life.
‘He believes that the woman…’ Jacob said, unwilling to mention the name.
‘We know who we're talking about here, don’t we?’ McIntyre said.
‘I didn’t want to say her name.’
‘Fair enough, Jacob. You’re safe with me. Nothing will happen to you. Now tell me the full story.’
‘Palmer believes this woman is involved in the death of another woman.’
‘The other woman?’
‘Liz Spalding.’
‘I see. Where can we find him?’
‘He’s been in the pub a couple of times, a damn nuisance. Kept asking me questions, not that I gave him any answers. Sure, I mentioned that I knew his brother, Stephen; Liz as well. When he started asking piercing questions, I backed off and went and sat on my own.’
Wolfenden decided it was best not to tell McIntyre that he had warned Palmer to back off.
‘The next day, he grabbed me in the street,’ Jacob continued. ‘Dragged me into an alley. I was scared, but I wasn’t going to talk. In the end, I got away. What should I do?’
‘Where can I find this individual?’ McIntyre said, the emphasis making it clear to Jacob that Palmer had trouble coming his way.
‘I haven’t seen him since, but it was only an hour or so ago. I tried to phone before, but I needed to calm my nerves.’
‘You had my number?’
‘I’ve had it for many years.’
McIntyre thought that was possible. He hadn’t changed the number on his phone for a long time. And Jacob, an insignificant man, he trusted.
‘Go back to the pub, go back to your drink. Let me know if you see this man or you have any idea where he is.’
Hamish put the phone down and called to Gareth. ‘There’s a man asking questions. I want you to find out who he is and grab him.’
‘Where do I find him?
‘Get down to the Stag Hotel, find Jacob Wolfenden. Don’t threaten him, he’s okay with me. He’ll update you.’
‘Do you trust him?’
‘The man knows who I am and what I can do. Find out who the other man is, put out feelers, ask around. But don’t be too obvious.’
‘And when I find him?’
‘Keep tabs on him. The police are not far behind. He may have spoken to them and told them things he shouldn’t have.’
‘And then?’
‘I’ll need to consider the options, but don’t let on that you know anything that can help him. Is that clear?’
‘Yes,’ Gareth said.
Chapter 25
Down in Cornwall, Jim Greenwood was keeping the team updated, questioning the locals, trying to find out if there had been a car in the area at the time of the woman’s death that didn’t belong to a local. But that was a needle in a haystack approach, Greenwood knew. The village was scenic; it attracted more than its fair share of tourists, some staying at the local hotel or a campsite up the road, others walking down by the harbour, taking a few pictures, and then
