because back then Mrs Jarvis was rarely sober.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Tom, ‘he’s probably Chief Constable by now.’
‘Whoever it was,’ she said, ‘he recognised Jarvis was the coming man and decided it would be sensible to help him out of a big mess.’
‘I keep hearing how incorruptible Jarvis is. I was beginning to believe it and you managed to dispel that myth in about five minutes.’
‘More like an hour and a half – and I wouldn’t say it made him corrupt necessarily.’
‘What would you call it then?’
‘It’s not the same as taking backhanders, is it? He was protecting his wife from arrest and possibly prison. Wouldn’t you do that?’
‘Possibly,’ conceded Tom, ‘but I have no intention of standing for public office.’
‘Brian Hilton said that was one of the problems of our system,’ she replied. ‘He reckons we expect politicians to be morally superior to everyone else but they are just the same as the rest of us.’
‘In my experience they are a lot worse.’
‘Anyway, whatever happened, it must have shaken them both. He dropped out of the running for the safe seat and eventually became leader of the city council. There were no more rumours about affairs and Mrs Jarvis kept the drinking under control, at least in public. Their marriage has been rock solid since then, apparently. Where are we going by the way?’ she asked him.
‘I’m off to meet Ian Bradshaw. He’s been doing some digging into Lonely Lane for me,’ then he added, ‘but don’t worry, I’ll drop you back first.’
‘I’m not in any hurry.’ Delving deeper into a good story with Ian and Tom was infinitely preferable to returning to her empty flat and worrying about the men out to get her.
‘Okay,’ he told her, ‘then you can ride shotgun. Thanks, Helen.’
‘What for?’
‘For finding the dirt. I knew there’d be something. There’s always something.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was hard to meet anywhere in the north-east in the evenings apart from in pubs. Nowhere else was open. Ian Bradshaw was already waiting for Tom at one of his watering holes on the outskirts of Durham city. The detective seemed pleased to see Helen again and they spent a few moments catching up with one another before they got down to business. Like Tom, Bradshaw hadn’t seen Helen since the Sean Donnellan case, aside from a few moments at Mary Collier’s funeral. Bradshaw proceeded to brief them about Lonely Lane and the negligent attitude of the time-serving police sergeant.
‘So Richard Bell was not exaggerating,’ said Tom, ‘the place really is a magnet for nutters and perverts. It makes me think that anyone could have murdered Rebecca.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Bradshaw told him. ‘Rebecca was killed two years ago and there have been no murders before it or since.’
‘Maybe the guy is just lying low,’ offered Tom.
‘And maybe you’re clutching at straws because you’re working for Bell’s family.’
Helen decided to interrupt before the two men became fractious. ‘Why is it called Lonely Lane?’
‘It dates back many years,’ Tom said. ‘Married ladies used to meet their lovers there if they were feeling lonely … meaning they wanted sex. Even years ago the place was synonymous with adultery.’
‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ Helen fished a photocopied article from her handbag and handed it to Tom. It was from her newspaper’s archive and showed a man arriving at court for sentencing.
‘What’s this?’
‘A case primarily about money laundering and tax evasion. There were all sorts of scams involving VAT avoidance and phantom employees on the payroll in pubs all over the city. This guy was sent down for a couple of years for cheating the system.’ She pointed at the picture of a gloomy man heading into court. ‘He took the full rap himself, even though he couldn’t have gained much directly compared to the owners and licensees, all of whom were seemingly unconnected. Their only common link was this man, who they all employed as a consulting accountant. The CPS was unable to build a strong enough case against any of the licensees individually and they were probably relatively blameless.’
‘Because they were front men,’ Tom said.
‘Exactly.’
‘So who was the real beneficiary of this fraud?’
‘No one could prove it but the word on the street is they were all pubs controlled by Jimmy McCree. Licences were withdrawn and six pubs closed down. One of them was the Highwayman.’
‘So Councillor Jarvis’s daughter was working in one of big Jimmy McCree’s pubs,’ said Tom, ‘and she probably never even knew it.’
‘I don’t suppose the councillor knew it either,’ said Helen.
‘But did