Chapter 56
749 Words
56
Back at the station, Culverhouse entered the custody suite and asked the custody sergeant if he could see John Lucas.
He was taken through to Lucas’s cell, the officer lifting the metal privacy flap down to check inside before unlocking the door and letting Culverhouse inside.
He stepped into the cell and waited as the door was closed and locked behind him.
John Lucas was sitting on the thin blue plastic mattress he could call his bed, feet up on the bed and knees in the air as he rested his back and head against the cold brick wall.
Culverhouse stood and looked at him for almost a minute, neither of them saying a word, both of them knowing what the other was thinking. Although there was silence, a thousand words were said.
It was Culverhouse who eventually broke the deadlock.
‘Forensics found traces of accelerant on Galloway’s hands. Both the police and the fire service are happy that Galloway set fire to his own house.’
Lucas looked at him for a few moments.
‘Why?’
‘We did some computer-modelled reconstructions on the house and pool area,’ Culverhouse said, ignoring him. ‘He could have easily reached the pool from that balcony. He was in decent enough health to make the jump. There were no marks on the balcony or on his legs that indicated that he’d slipped when jumping. He deliberately aimed to miss the pool and hit the patio, knowing he’d die instantly rather than burn to a slow death in the house.’
‘But why?’ Lucas asked again, shaking his head slowly.
‘He was riddled with cancer. He wanted to be in charge of his own destiny. And he wanted to take you down at the same time.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘That’s for you to live with. That’s a question I hope you ask yourself every day. I hope it troubles you for the rest of your life. But maybe, just maybe he couldn’t quite forgive you for f*****g up that night eleven years ago.’
‘Me? He was the one who gave us duff information and ran off with all the money!’
Culverhouse shook his head. ‘I don’t think he did. We don’t know where that money went, but we’re pretty sure it didn’t go to him. It’s not easy to hide half a million quid in cash. We reckon Galloway’s inside man at Trenton-Lowe was the managing director. The company had been doing alright before the gypsy camp deal. Not great, but okay. He must’ve been shitting himself at what might happen if he got too heavily involved with those people. He’d probably heard all the stories. I presume you didn’t know he’d been living out his retirement in a lovely little villa in Portugal, did you? No, us neither. Bought for not far off half a million quid, four years after the robbery.’
Lucas swallowed. ‘So they did us all over. Galloway and the Trenton-Lowe guy.’
‘Galloway got away with as little from that job as the rest of you did. He can’t have known the bloke had hidden the money then run off to Portugal with it. Until his dying day, he believed the failure of that job was down to you. As far as he was concerned, you cost him half a million quid.’
‘But why? I’ve not got a pot to piss in!’
‘We don’t know. We never will. But there are a few things we do know. We know you drew police attention to Galloway like flies to s**t when you pulled that trigger. As far as I’m concerned, you should be banged up permanently for that. We know Galloway was an old school criminal, a man who didn’t touch women, children or police officers. We know you very publicly swore that you were going to get your revenge on Galloway when you got out. And it looks to me like he got there before you did. Call it a pre-emptive strike, if you will. He was dying anyway, so why not take control over when and how, and ensure you go back inside for another decade or two just to top things off? And the most beautiful part of all of it is that you could’ve walked free. You were an innocent man on that front, about to be vindicated. But then you went and did something really f*****g stupid and bollocksed it all up. That’s your legacy. That’s the story of your life. And you know what? I feel sorry for you.’
Culverhouse turned and knocked on the door to indicate that he wanted to be let out.
‘How long am I going down for?’ Lucas said, his voice barely a whisper and cracking with tears.
Culverhouse spoke without turning as he waited for the officer to open the door.
‘Right now, I really couldn’t give a shit.’
- Writer
