Chapter 70
It can be very hard to smoke in a sauna, but Jason Ritchie is giving it his best shot.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Dad?” he asks, sweat dripping from his brow.
“Just tell them everything,” replies Ron. “They’ll know what to do.”
“And you reckon they’ll find them?” asks Jason.
“I should think so,” says Ibrahim, stretched out on a lower bench. “If anyone can.”
The sauna door opens and Elizabeth and Joyce enter, with towels wrapped around swimsuits. Jason puts out his cigarette in a pile of hot ash.
“Well, this is nice,” says Joyce. “Eucalyptus.”
“Lovely to see you, Jason,” says Elizabeth, taking a seat opposite the half-naked boxer. “I believe you think that we might be of use to you. I must say, I agree.”
That’s it for pleasantries. She fixes her eyes on him. “So?”
Jason tells Elizabeth and Joyce the same story he told his dad. A copy of the photo is passed around the sauna. Ibrahim has had it laminated.
“I get the photo,” confirms Jason, “and I’m like, what’s this about? Where’s this from? Is this the papers? Is this the front page of The Sun tomorrow? That’s what I was thinking. But there’s no message, nothing. There’s no journalist on the phone, and they’ve got a number for me, so what’s up?”
“And what was up?” asks Elizabeth.
“Well, I’m thinking, do I ring my PR? Maybe they’ve spoken to her. I was in shock, to be fair—this is twenty-odd years ago, this photo, and a world I’d left behind. So I’m ready to deny whatever, or come up with something—bachelor party, fancy dress, anything to explain it away.”
“Ooh, that’s good,” says Joyce.
“So there I am, still looking at his picture, and something clicks. I think, well, maybe this is the game. Maybe Tony’s got hold of this photo, famous boxer surrounded by cash, jailbirds everywhere.
He sends me a copy, looking for a bit of money.
Give me 20k, whatever, and I don’t go to the papers.
Fair enough, really, so I think, yeah, I should just ring him, have a little chat. See if we can work something out.”
“Was Tony Curran the sort of man who might blackmail you?” asks Elizabeth.
“Tony’s the sort of man who might do anything, yeah. So, first things first, I get hold of a new phone, cheap one, in town.”
“Afterward, will you tell me where? Because I’m looking for one at the moment,” says Ibrahim.
“Of course, Mr. Arif,” says Jason. “So, I ring him once, and no answer. So I ring him again, same, leave it twenty minutes, and try again. He’s still not picking up.”
“I never pick up if it’s a number I don’t recognize,” says Joyce. “I saw that on Rogue Traders.”
“Very wise, Joyce.” Jason continues, “Then I came here for a quick drink with Pops, and I saw the man himself, Curran, arguing with Ventham.”
“Keeping all this quiet from me,” says Ron, and Jason raises his hand to acknowledge it.
“So after me and Dad had a couple of beers—”
“And me,” says Joyce.
“And Joyce,” agrees Jason. “After that, I went for a little drive, just to do a bit of thinking. Then I headed down there, Tony’s house, lovely place.
Now, we were always cautious around each other, me and Tony—too many secrets—but I wouldn’t be at his front door without a reason.
His car’s on the drive, so when there’s no answer, I think he’s seen me on his security and doesn’t fancy a chat.
And I didn’t blame him, so I rang the bell a few more times, and then I left. ”
“And this is the day he died?” asks Joyce.
“The day he died. I couldn’t hear anything from inside, so I don’t know if that was before or after, or whatever. Anyway, home I go, and a couple of hours later I’m on this WhatsApp group.”
“A WhatsApp group?” asks Elizabeth, but Joyce waves her away, and Jason continues.
“A few of the old faces, and someone says Tony’s been found dead at home.
I go cold, you know? I get sent the photo that morning, and Tony dies that afternoon.
Which leaves me worried. I mean, I can look after myself, but Tony could look after himself too, and see where that got him?
So I’m nervous, that’s natural, and then the police get wind that I’ve been to Tony’s, and they get records saying I’d rung Tony’s phone that day too.
And next to the body they’ve got a photo of me.
You can’t blame them—they think that stinks, and so would I. ”
“But you didn’t kill Tony Curran?” asks Elizabeth.
“No, not me,” says Jason. “But you can see why the police think I did.”
“Their case is compelling,” agrees Ibrahim.
“And you’re here to see if we can find your old friend for you?” asks Elizabeth.
“Well,” says Jason, “the way my Dad tells it, however good the police are, you lot are better.”
There are quiet nods all around.
“And it’s old friends,” says Jason. “There’s the lad who took the photo too.”
“And who was that?” asks Elizabeth.
“Turkish Johnny, the fourth member of our little gang.”
“And he’s Turkish?” asks Joyce.
“No,” says Jason.
Ibrahim notes this down.
“He’s Turkish Cypriot, and fled back there years ago.”
“I know some good operatives in Cyprus,” says Elizabeth.
“Look,” says Jason. “You owe me nothing. Less than that. I’ve done nothing good here, and Tony never did.
But if Bobby or Johnny killed Tony, then they’re still out there, and if they’re still out there, then why not me next?
Again, not your business, I know, but Dad thought it might be up your street, and I’m not going to turn down the help. ”
“So . . . what do you reckon?” Ron asks.
“Well,” says Elizabeth, “here’s my take.
The others might disagree, though I suspect they won’t.
This is a mess of your own making. And a mess that came from greed, and from drugs.
And those are downsides for me. But there is an upside too.
And that is that you are Ron’s son. And I believe you are probably right—I believe we can find Bobby Tanner and Turkish Johnny for you.
Probably quickly. And whatever you’ve done, and whatever we might think of that, I would like to catch a murderer. Before that murderer catches you.”
“Agreed,” says Joyce.
“Agreed,” says Ibrahim.
“Thank you,” says Jason.
“Thank you,” adds Ron.
“Not at all,” says Elizabeth, standing. “Now, I will leave you to your sauna. I have to make a few calls. Ron, I need to see you at the graveyard at ten this evening, if you’re free. Joyce and Ibrahim, I’ll need you there too.”
“Sounds lovely. Wouldn’t miss it,” says Ron. His son gives him a questioning look.
“And Jason?” says Elizabeth.
“Yes?”
“If this is a bluff, it’s a high-risk one. Because we will catch this murderer. Even if it’s you.”