Chasing Shadows of Murder

Málaga, 2001

I heard dogs yesterday. If that ain’t the police then what is?

Seriously, you got another explanation for hearing dogs? I’m all ears.

They found me somehow, the Met Police. Someone’s told them I’m in Málaga. Must’ve.

Who’s grassed me up then you think? Someone at the pub?

The gym? Someone from the British Businessmen in Málaga Association Dinner Dance?

I never should have bid at that charity auction.

Two grand, and I didn’t even want tickets to the Millennium Dome, I would’ve been arrested the second my plane landed at Heathrow.

‘Connor Brooks, you’re under arrest for this, that or the other.

’ No, thanks. I’ve been to prison seven times, and seven’s my limit.

Prison’s no fun when you’re a bit older.

There’s always someone on all the machines in the prison gym.

And you try getting up to go to the loo three times a night when you’re sharing a cell with the Northampton Arsonist.

Some of the lads here wander around without a care in the world. They got new names, new faces, new teeth, but I never worried about all that. I sell dodgy vitamins in the post, I’m not exactly public enemy number one, am I? No one ever died from too much riboflavin.

There’s lads round here, murderers some of them, riding round on mopeds, and where are the cops? Looking the other way.

The whole thing’s a racket. Start to finish, a racket.

I’m going to be honest now. I just sent off for some wigs. So I can blend in? So I can go out and get a coffee and a paper. Good luck catching ‘Baldy Brooks’ when he’s suddenly got hair like Rod Stewart!

Maybe it’d blow off on a moped though?

By the way, you might think I’m being paranoid, and I get it. I’m jumping at every little sound, I’ve stopped swimming in the pool and pruning the ornamental hedge. But it’s not paranoia.

See, I’ve been warned.

Had a little tip-off from a mate back home. Still got a few friends looking out for me. ‘The cops know where you are, they know where your money is, they’re coming for you.’

So that’s that. Plan B into action.

Noises again, outside. People on the street talking. About me? Impossible to tell, but what else are they gonna be talking about? The price of oranges? Do me a favour, they’re circling. They know it, I know it.

Eventually they’ll storm the house. Run in, screaming in Spanish, some bloke in a suit from the Met tagging along, nodding, going, ‘Yeah, that’s him, that’s Baldy, stick the cuffs on.’

But I won’t be here when they do.

I hate the nickname by the way, ‘Baldy Brooks’, but what else are they gonna call me?

When I moved out here, I tried to get them to call me ‘The Guv’nor’ but no dice, there were three ‘The Guv’nors’ in Málaga already.

One of them died when his yacht caught fire, but then another one showed up a month later. So ‘Baldy’ it is.

It’s been nice, Málaga, it really has. Lots of good lads down here, lots of pals from home.

Couple of armed robbers from Bermondsey, a few drug dealers – real drugs that is, not the vitamins and woo-woo nonsense I sell.

The local corner shop is run by a murderer from Cardiff, and he always makes sure to stock Marmite and cornflakes and PG Tips.

It’s a real community like that, and I’ll miss it.

I have to disappear though, and this time I have to disappear completely. I can’t be looking over my shoulder forever.

I’m a bright enough lad, and I’ve got a little plan. If I’m quick, I think it’ll work. There’s a few people I still trust, and they’re helping.

I’ve written the note already: ‘I can’t take it … life of crime not for me … sins have caught up with me, blah blah blah.’ Lay it on nice and thick. Leave it where the housekeeper can find it.

I’ve got a backpack full of ready cash, new passport, new name, all that.

Again, easy if you’ve got friends. Leave some clothes on the beach, whatever.

Let them search for the body. How you gonna find it when it’s not there?

They’ll give up looking eventually. No one cares where I am except the police.

Where will I go? Well, wouldn’t you like to know? But I’m going to stay in the business, you can work from anywhere these days.

I’ll make you two promises though.

One, I’m going to find somewhere where no one else already has the nickname ‘The Guv’nor’.

And two, I’m going to find out exactly who’s grassed on me. And then I’m going to kill him.