“Goodridge. A pleasure, always. Now gentlemen, I have patients.”
The matron turned and left, as did they, heading back towards the car park.
“How did you know he’d come here?” Joseph asked.
“I didn’t. Just had a feeling. Harry Jones is a lot of things, but brave enough to tell on the people who had him beat up? I seriously doubt that.”
“You think it was Peters who had Harry beaten up? Why?”
“Of that, I’m not sure. But I reckon if we get our hands on that card, we might find out a little bit more.”
“I presume that card is long gone.”
“You would think so. But then again, I don’t think Harry is any sort of master criminal. We might just catch a break.”
“You want to head there now?” Joseph asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Of course.”
32.
Harry’s face fell when his mother brought them through and into his bedroom. He sat on a single bed, which ensured the room remained that of an adolescent, not a man. A red and brown checked sheet and mismatched cream pillow lay up against one wall, whilst a small window let the light in. He had an old and tired-looking desk and chair on the opposite side, which looked as if they’d been rescued from a school. The only storage was a double-doored wardrobe that stood next to the desk, on top of a brown carpet featuring a seemingly random pattern. White and brown pinstriped wallpaper had been covered in posters. Pop stars and actors and actresses. Bridgitte Bardot took pride of place nearest to where Harry’s head lay on the bed as they entered. He shot up, sitting on the bed, groaning in dismay.
“I thought we’d done with you lot?” he asked wearily.
“We had hoped,” Ray admitted.
Harry looked at his mum, who in turn tutted at him, then turned and left, closing the door behind them.
“We heard you had a visit from an uncle whilst you were in the hospital,” Joseph told him, recounting what the matron had told them about his visitor.
“So, what did your uncle want?” Ray asked.
“I guess you know he’s not my real uncle?” Harry sighed as he looked up at the two of them.
“The thought had crossed our minds,” Ray replied.
“Yeah.” Harry dropped his head into his hands and began to cry. “Oh god,” he said between sobs.
They let him sob for a couple of seconds. Joseph felt decidedly awkward, standing there, watching. He assumed Ray would be feeling even more so. Emotions were never his thing. Harry kept crying. He looked more and more like a boy than a man as he did. Finally, Ray had had enough. He moved over, sat on the bed and put his hand tenderly on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said quietly, catching Joseph completely off guard.
“I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”
“We don’t know yet,” Ray kept his voice low and soothing. “But one thing I do know is, any trouble you are in can be mitigated by telling us the truth.”
Harry took a huge breath in, his head coming up and his chest pushing out. “Yeah, yeah.” He said. “Okay.”
Joseph pulled out his notebook. “Go on,” Ray coaxed Harry.
“He works for Christopher Peters. Freddie, he’s called.”
Ray didn’t tell Harry that they already knew that. He urged him to carry on. “Why does he want to talk to you?”
“Well, I suppose I work for Christopher Peters too. Small stuff, like. Just let him know when things are coming to the docks and what have you. Might leave the back of the wagon unlocked if they ask me to.”
“When did that start?”
“Six months ago. One of the lads at work apparently told them I was hard up for cash, so they came and offered me a few extra bob if I did what they asked.”
“Which lad?”
“Garry.” Ray and Joseph shared a look that said they weren’t surprised.
“Why didn’t you say no?” Joseph asked. Ray and Harry both looked at him with a mixture of disgust and incredulity.
“Why do you think?” Harry answered. “You don’t say no to them, do you? And look at this place. Look at my life. I can’t say no to the extra money. I had to take it. Had to do what they asked.”
“What had he come to you about then?” Ray asked. “Peters didn’t send him to give you a bunch of flowers and some grapes.”
“He gave me a card. It had instructions on what I had to say if the police asked me what happened.”
“What did it say?”
“What I told you. That I asked Tommy Jay for a job and then someone jumped me.”
“Who jumped you?”
“I really don’t know,” Harry said. “But I don’t think it was anyone from Tommy Jay. I think it was one of Peters’ lot. I think they wanted me to put them under the spotlight. If you hadn’t found me, I was supposed to make a complaint, say where I’d been and that I didn’t know what had happened. Never to mention Tommy like, just the building. I guess they figured you’d put two and two together.”
