Free Hail and Farewell (The Lakeland Murders) by J. J. Salkeld Page B

because I’m expecting a late finish. Everyone will play really hard, because of what happened.’
    ‘And there’s nothing that you noticed that you think might help us?’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Well, anything that’s not on the film, or in your statement. Something that you saw out of the corner of your eye, perhaps?’
    Baker thought for a moment.
    ‘This is probably nothing, and don’t take my word for it, because like I say I’m no expert. But it seemed a bit strange, the way the scrum moved back towards the beck. You know, before that poor young lad was drowned.’
    ‘Strange how?’
    ‘I don’t know. It was just an impression, and I could be wrong. I’m not even sure if I thought about it at the time, or if it was only afterwards. But one thing I can tell you for sure. There was more noise, more shouting, in the few minutes before it happened. The intensity ratcheted up a notch or two, that’s for sure.’
     
    Jane nodded, and glanced over at Ian Mann. He hadn’t really been paying attention, but a question or two was clearly expected.
    ‘How many people watch your videos, then?’
    ‘Quite a few. The last one I made, about the Burryman up in Scotland, that’s had over two hundred already.’
    ‘Really? In how long?’
    ‘Not long, just a few months. But, like I say, it’s just a hobby. I do it because someone should, that’s all. I don’t really care if no-one else is interested.’
    ‘Well we’re interested’ said Jane. ‘And thanks again for letting us have all your footage.’
    ‘Is it any use?’
    ‘Absolutely. We’re still working on it, but I’m sure it will be really helpful.’
    ‘Great. And I’ll see you later on, I expect.’
    ‘At the game? Yes. We’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.’
     
    The two officers walked from the hotel to George Hayton’s office, above a taxi booking office in a side street close to the centre of Workington.
    ‘He owns this place, I take it?’ said Jane, as they stood outside.
    ‘Aye, and half a dozen other businesses up and down the west coast. All cash based, of course.’
    ‘He launders his dirty money through them?’
    ‘That’d be favourite, aye. And taxis are handy for the delivery round too, aren’t they?’
    ‘So the drugs team are interested in him?’
    ‘Oh aye, he’s been a category one target for years. But he’s clever enough to avoid any direct contact with the bent bits of the business these days. A couple of his main men have been busted lately, don’t get me wrong, but there’s always someone else ready to step up.’
    ‘So who is his right hand man at the moment?’
    ‘A lad called Bell, and his nickname is Stringer.’
    ‘They watch The Wire ?’
    ‘Seems like it. One of them does, anyway. I never understood a word of it when I tried, like. Of course Bell’s a common name round here. His actual first name is Lee.’
    ‘I hope they don’t watch Breaking Bad as well, or it’ll give them ideas.’
    ‘I doubt it. I asked one of the lads in drugs about that funny enough, and he said that the only people addicted in Cumbria were the ones who couldn’t stop watching the show. Meth is a bit of a non-issue up here. It’s mainly used in the gay scene down south, apparently.’
    ‘What? And we don’t have one of those in Cumbria?’
    Mann smiled. He knew when he’d been caught out. There was no point in keeping digging.
    ‘I didn’t say that. You need the right ingredients to make crystal meth anyway, as well as the know-how, and no matter how clever these lads think they are they’re not in that league. They’re just pretty small fish in a tiny little pond. A proper piranha would have them for breakfast. Mind you, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to put the lot of them away.’
    ‘I know what you mean. There’s nothing glamorous about what these people do, no matter how it looks on TV.’
     
    The taxi office turned out to be proof of that assertion. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in the last