She was leaving Stockport now. She needed to get back as fast as possible, but she pulled in at the side of the road just before it joined the Woodhead Pass across the Pennines and checked her phone – there was no response to her text. On the off chance, she tried Becca’s number again.
This time it was answered, but not by Becca. It was someone who was cagey until she identified herself. She was talking to one of the PCs Dave Sykes had sent to the flat. Becca wasn’t there. Her phone had been found in the mud in the backyard of her building.
Of Becca herself, there was no sign.
Chapter 40
Curwen had got his way, and things had moved faster than he had believed possible. Despite his low-key approach, Dom Maskall’s questions to the Tania’s House accountants had rung alarm bells. They’d contacted the police. Search teams had gone into the Tania’s House offices in Hull at once and taken the books apart. Less than an hour ago, they’d arrested Carl Lavery and were in the process of searching as many of his business premises as they could find. Curwen had no idea why things had happened so quickly, but he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth.
‘It looks like you were right and there is a drugs link,’ the man leading the search told him. Though Curwen had no close friends among his colleagues, he was generally liked and respected – he was seen as a good copper. Everyone knew about the fiasco of the first Smokehouse raid, and most of them had been sympathetic. ‘We’ve found large amounts of cash stored at the pub and in a couple of the holiday lets. He’ll say it’s all legitimate – he gets paid in cash – but there’s too much. No way he can explain it all away. The money comes in from the drugs, he cleans it up, everyone’s happy.’
For Curwen, it was a result. It wasn’t what he’d been looking for, but it would do nicely, thank you. Money laundering. Was Lavery the banker for the gang? Or did he just take a cut for converting hot money into usable money? Money launderers were prepared to lose forty to fifty per cent of the value of the dirty money in order to clean it, but that still left them with plenty.
This could get him his promotion.
Finally, he had time to think about Becca the Barmaid’s phone call. He’d promised to deal with it, but he’d shelved that when he got the call about the raids on Carl Lavery’s premises. Whatever had been going on with her was probably finished by now. He had planned on going home – God knows, he’d earned it, but he needed to deal with this first.
He was mulling over what to do when he saw Karen Innes coming through the office towards him. She didn’t look happy. ‘Curwen.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I wouldn’t look so pleased with myself if I were you. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?’
Curwen managed – just – not to let the surprise show on his face. Trouble? He’d just uncovered evidence of a major money-laundering ring!
Oh shit. Had they found Andy’s phone?
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Innes,’ he said, managing to keep his voice casual. He suspected she wasn’t fooled.
‘Looks like you don’t need me to tell you.’ She nodded over his shoulder, and Curwen saw his boss, DCI Kevin Gallagher, heading towards him. He scowled at Curwen. ‘My office,’ he said abruptly. Innes, he couldn’t help noticing, looked pleased.
Keeping his face carefully blank, Curwen followed Gallagher through the office door. His mind was working fast. They’d know about Andy in the pub – Dinah Mason wouldn’t have kept that to herself – but they wouldn’t know that Curwen had sent him there. Andy’s phone? That could only raise a suspicion. Enough to put a blight on his future progress? Maybe, but it would be impossible to prove. There was nothing there that would lead to an instant bollocking, so what was all this about? ‘Sir?’ he said as Gallagher threw himself into his chair, leaving Curwen standing.
‘Curwen, what the fuck have you been doing? Weren’t you told to keep away from the Smokehouse?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘Right. So why were you looking into Carl Lavery’s finances?’
Curwen hesitated. If he wanted the credit for the money-laundering bust, he’d have to put his hand up to the investigation. He made his mind up. ‘Sir, I always thought that pub was dodgy. I didn’t go back – I screwed up the first time, but this is something else.’
‘And why did you screw up? You listened to some little scrote who spun you a line.’
Curwen felt the hot anger of humiliation again. No one had spun him a line – he didn’t fall for things like that. ‘It was more than that, sir. It was a solid tip-off.’
‘Which was wrong.’
Curwen couldn’t answer that.
‘So why did you go back? Why did you disobey explicit—’
‘I didn’t go near the place.’ No point in mentioning his first contact with Becca the Barmaid. That had been a mistake. ‘When I was writing my report, I saw something in the finances that looked off. I checked it out, and the next thing I know is the fraud people are going in mob-handed.’
‘Curwen, did it never cross your mind that if you picked something up from a low-grade informer, people whose job it was to get that information had picked it up as well? Louder, clearer and in more detail than you? Officers from the National Crime Agency have been following a lead
