Nothing But Lies Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Recent Titles by Lyndon Stacey

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Recent Titles by Lyndon Stacey

  CUT THROAT

  BLINDFOLD

  DEADFALL

  OUTSIDE CHANCE

  SIX TO ONE AGAINST

  MURDER IN MIND

  The Daniel Whelan Mysteries

  NO GOING BACK *

  NO HOLDS BARRED *

  NOTHING BUT LIES *

  * available from Severn House

  NOTHING BUT LIES

  A Daniel Whelan Mystery

  Lyndon Stacey

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2014

  in Great Britain and the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  Trade paperback edition published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2015 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2014 by Lyndon Stacey

  The right of Lyndon Stacey to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Stacey, Lyndon author.

  Nothing but lies.

  1. Whelan, Daniel (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

  2. Ex-police officers–Fiction. 3. Undercover operations–

  Fiction. 4. Ex-convicts–Fiction. 5. Detective and mystery

  stories.

  I. Title

  823.9’2-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-07278-8400-8 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-538-4 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-583-3 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,

  Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  This book is dedicated with great fondness, to the memory of my agent, Dorothy Lumley, who sadly passed away last year. Kind and endlessly encouraging, we became friends and I shall miss her greatly.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks go to my good friend ‘Cloudy’ Clare Kirk, who was endlessly patient and helpful while I struggled out loud with the plot details. As ever, huge thanks are due to Mark Randle for police-related queries. Also, to Chris Fenton for advice on family law and a suggestion that changed the course of the story; and Teruko Chagrin for help with all things Japanese.

  PROLOGUE

  It was a warm night. The waxing moon tipped the waves with silver and cast a halo on the thin high mantle of cloud that every now and then hid it from view.

  The man on the cliff top walked slowly, listening to the soft sighing of the waves on the beach and the intermittent barking of a fox in the river valley he had just left. He was in no hurry. Dawn was a way off yet and he had plenty of time to set up his camera at the seabird colony. He had come out earlier than he needed to, wakeful and unable to resist the lure of the lonely coastal path at night. A remote, rocky stretch of shoreline, beyond the looping reach of even the tiniest rural lanes; by day it was visited only by hardier walkers passing along the way-marked coast path, and at night belonged solely to the wildlife.

  The walker paused, glancing out to sea, enjoying the exhilaration of altitude and the cool breeze that ruffled his hair and rippled through his thin cotton sweatshirt.

  Then his gaze sharpened.

  Something was out there, bobbing in the waves. Two small, rounded shapes. Seals? He’d not heard of them being seen this far south but he knew that occasionally vagrant seals were seen in the most unusual of places.

  Keeping his eye on the dark blobs, he sat down on the short turf and lifted his binoculars. Even brought nearer, they remained tantalisingly indistinct. Now he wished the dawn were closer.

  Clouds passed across the moon, spoiling his view, and he lowered the glasses, muttering his frustration. Minutes ticked by and then the light shone through again, lifting the landscape to a mottled tapestry of greys. But the man had no time to appreciate the beauty of the land, his eyes were fixed on the waves below.

  There they were. Much closer now, still side-by-side, forging quite quickly through the surf, and something about the way they moved made him frown. Approaching the rock-strewn beach the dark heads surged upwards, revealing their true shape. Not seals at all, but two human figures wading through the shallows with the soft moonlight gleaming on facemasks, now pushed onto the tops of their heads. By their silhouettes they were both male. One stumbled and the other steadied him, before they made it onto the thin strip of gritty sand the tide had uncovered. Here, the one who had tripped found a shelving rock and sat on it, taking off flippers. The other one removed his and, standing, looked up and down the beach and then, suddenly, up at the cliff top, catching the watcher by surprise.

  Without knowing why he did so, he drew back from the edge, out of sight. There was no law against swimming at night, and in the middle of August, the sea was certainly pleasantly warm, he’d waded in the shallows himself, the previous day; so why should he be so loath to be caught watching? Drawing further back from the edge, he got to his feet and continued on his way.

  ‘There’s someone up there,’ the man on the beach told his seated friend. ‘On the cliff top with binoculars.’

  The second man turned and looked up. They both had snorkels and wore shorty wetsuits, with waterproof duffel bags strapped to their backs.

  ‘I can’t see anyone.’

  ‘No, he’s gone now. Disappeared when I caught him looking.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Nothing to say we can’t go swimming.’

  The first man grunted. The moonlight gleamed on a small, gold earring.

  ‘Don’t like being watched.’

  ‘You’ve spent too long in the wrong company,’ his companion said. ‘OK. Let’s go. I’m fine now.’

  In the shadow of the looming cliff, they changed in silence, peeling off wetsuits and stowing them in the duffel bags, replacing them with combat trousers and dark-coloured Tshirts. In deck trainers they walked along the pebbly sand for a short way and then turned between the rocks at the point where a stream tumbled down through a tree-lined gully worn away by centuries of rushing water.

  The climb was more of a scramble but none the less, both men were breathing heavily by the time they reached the top of the gully and they sat on rocks in the shadows cast
by the trees. One man sat with his head down, rubbing his eyes, while the other again spent his time scanning as much as could be seen of their surroundings in the light of the moon.

  ‘Stay there,’ he said softly to his companion, who looked up.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To get the lie of the land. Won’t be long.’

  Leaving his duffel bag, he moved away, keeping to the shadows, his rubber-soled shoes making no noise on the turf. Within seconds he had disappeared.

  He was gone for several minutes, and his companion had started to glance uneasily into the surrounding gloom but then suddenly he was back, as silently as he had left. After a short, murmured conversation, the two men picked up their packs and started to walk, heading inland, keeping to the shadows, with only a hunting fox to see them pass.

  ONE

  ‘So what’s on your mind?’ Fred Bowden placed his beer on the table and sat down. A stocky, well muscled man in his mid-fifties, with a shadow of grey hair, he looked what he was – a no-nonsense, ex-army sergeant, but there was a redeeming glint of humour alongside the toughness.

  ‘What makes you think anything is?’ Daniel Whelan slid into the bench seat with his back to the wall, and glanced briefly round, watchful by habit. It was mid week and the pub was quiet. He relaxed and Taz, his black and tan German shepherd, settled at his feet with a sigh.

  ‘Because you’ve been distracted ever since you got that call earlier.’

  Daniel took a sip of his own brew and shook his head ruefully. ‘Am I that easy to read? I must be losing my touch.’

  Bowden shrugged. ‘I guess I’ve known you a while now. So what is it?’

  ‘I’m going to need some more time off.’

  Since leaving the army, Fred Bowden had built up a moderately successful retail haulage business, supplying the farms and riding stables of Devon. Daniel had been working for him for a little over a year, now.

  ‘I see.’ Bowden raised an eyebrow and contemplated his beer. ‘It may be my memory playing tricks, but haven’t you just got back from nearly five weeks leave?’

  ‘And whose idea was that?’ Daniel enquired mildly. ‘And you say “leave” like it was some kind of holiday!’ He’d spent a month helping out an old friend of Fred’s who’d been in trouble, and restful was not the word he’d have used to describe those weeks away.

  Bowden’s steel-grey eyes regarded Daniel shrewdly over the rim of his beer glass as he took a long, appreciative swallow.

  ‘You must be on edge,’ he observed, when he finally put the glass down. ‘You’d never normally rise to the bait like that. What’s up? I’m guessing it’s not a holiday you’re after.’

  ‘A mate needs a favour.’

  ‘You have a friend? I thought you were Billy-no-mates.’

  ‘Yeah, well to be honest, I don’t really know him that well. He’s a colleague from the old days. He was on the dog squad, like me, but with shifts. I didn’t see that much of him, though he did give a couple of us a few martial arts lessons.’

  ‘So, is this the guy that’s got info for you in the past?’

  ‘Yep. Jo-Ji Matsuki – known to all as Joey Suzuki. He took on my drugs dog when I – er, left the force. He’s a nice guy and a pretty neat martial artist as well. He taught me a few useful moves. The thing is; he’s worried about his fiancée – thinks she might be in danger. Wants me to keep an eye on her. He helped me out, now it’s my turn.’

  Fred Bowden pursed his lips. ‘OK. But what is there in that to make you edgy? You’re not exactly the nervous sort.’

  Daniel shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bit too close to my old life for comfort – Joey being a cop still.’

  ‘Well, I can understand why you feel you have to go, but you could have timed it better. With Colin off sick and Whitey leaving at the end of the month, we’re a bit short of cover already. I’ve advertised but you wouldn’t believe the dross that turn up expecting to be put behind the wheel of a twenty-five ton lorry.’

  ‘I can imagine. I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch.’

  ‘So why can’t this Joey’s colleagues look out for his fiancée?’

  ‘Oh, come on! Your son’s a copper. You know as well as I do that staffing levels dictate their every move. Joey says they’ve promised to swing by every now and then when he’s on duty and there’s a patrol in the area, but what use is that? From what I can gather, they live out in the sticks, pretty much; not an area they’d be patrolling very often.’

  Bowden grunted and shook his head. ‘So who does she need protection from, does he know? An ex-con with a grudge?’

  ‘That’s what he thinks.’

  ‘And you’re just going to rack up with “Bodyguard” on your T-shirt?’

  ‘Not exactly. Apparently she also needs someone to drive her horsebox to shows, so that’s my cover. He’s telling her that I’m down on my luck at the moment and need a place to stay.’

  ‘Horses and a horsebox, on a copper’s pay?’

  ‘She works too, and anyway, I don’t think it’s actually her lorry. It belongs to a friend who’s out of action. Look, I’m sorry, Fred. I know you’re pushed at the moment, but I owe this guy.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we’ll get by. I can always draft Meg in to drive one of the lorries, if we get really stuck.’

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’

  ‘It’s only because I know you’d go anyway,’ his boss said, draining his beer and standing up. ‘I’d better get back, it’s my turn to cook. You gonna come by for a bite after you’ve walked that hound of yours?’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Daniel said. ‘If Meg’s not getting fed up with me dropping in.’

  ‘She seems to like having you. Women! There’s no understanding them,’ he added, and dodged as a beer mat whistled past his ear.

  Maiden Ashton, the village where Jo-Ji Matsuki and his partner, Tamiko, lived, was on the south-western outskirts of Bristol and was surprisingly rural, given its proximity to the city. The couple lived in an end-of-terrace Victorian cottage, in a lane leading off the main street. Much of the space in front of the green-painted front door had been gravelled over for parking, and on this Thursday afternoon, as Daniel drove slowly up to check the house number, one half of it was occupied by a blue hatchback. A ceramic plaque adorned with a horse’s head confirmed that this was indeed No 5, Tannery Lane and, swinging his ageing Mercedes estate into the free space, Daniel switched the engine off, stretching his arms and back to ease the stiffness of the journey from his muscles. In the rear of the car, Taz stood up and whined, recognising journey’s end and hoping for action.

  The cottage was built of faded red brick with a slate roof, its paintwork white and in need of attention. Through the shrubs to the right of the main body of the cottage, Daniel could just see a ground floor extension, finished in cream render and so new it still had tape on the French windows.

  On the phone, the previous evening, Jo-Ji had told Daniel that he would be working when he arrived and that Tamiko, who worked from home as a massage therapist, might be busy with clients, but as he approached the front door it opened and a face with elfin features peered out.

  ‘Daniel?’

  ‘That’s right. You must be Tamiko.’

  ‘Please – call me Tami.’ She pronounced her name with more emphasis on the second syllable. ‘Come in.’

  She opened the door further and stood back, revealing a petite figure in denim jeans and a black T-shirt with a dragon on it. Her thick black hair was cut into a jaw-length bob and framed an attractive heart-shaped face that currently wore a slightly anxious expression.

  As Daniel stepped forward, Taz barked sharply, twice, in the car behind him.

  Tamiko glanced at the car.

  ‘Ah. Your dog. Do you want to bring him in?’

  ‘No. He can stay there for a moment. He’s just being a diva.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’ Tamiko looked a little doubtfully towards the car again, then smiled at Daniel as he pas
sed her in the doorway. ‘Jo-Ji say he’s sorry he not here to meet you. He’s on late shift.’

  ‘That’s OK.’

  The cottage was small, the front door opening into a narrow hallway, with an even narrower flight of stairs leading steeply upwards. Tamiko gestured to a closed door on Daniel’s left, saying that it was Jo-Ji’s den, before leading the way through an opposing door into a tiny sitting room, at the far end of which a full-width archway led through to a kitchen diner beyond.

  The room was furnished with simple style, having a two-seat, leather sofa and a large beanbag for comfort, and a tiny pot-bellied wood burning stove for warmth. On the entertainment front, a small TV stood on a cabinet with all the usual hi-tech gadgetry underneath, and well-stocked bookshelves lined one wall, from the top of which a Siamese cat regarded the visitor with a basilisk stare, sitting so still that Daniel had to do a double-take to convince himself that the animal was indeed real.

  ‘That is Shinju,’ Tamiko told him with a shy smile. ‘She disapproves. She is not fond of strangers.’

  ‘Shinju. What does that mean?’

  ‘It means pearl.’

  ‘Pole?’ he repeated. Tamiko’s accent made the word difficult.

  She frowned and tried again, holding up finger and thumb to indicate something small. ‘Pearl.’

  ‘Oh, pearl!’ Daniel said, understanding, and Tamiko smiled sunnily, nodding her head.

  ‘I also have her brother. His name is Yasu. That means peaceful,’ she added anticipating the question.

  ‘And is he?’

  ‘Unless you are unlucky to be a mouse,’ she said laughing. ‘What is your dog’s name?’

  ‘Taz. And no – before you ask – I have no idea what it means. He was called that when he was assigned to me. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say Pain in the Arse!’

  Tamiko laughed. ‘But you love him, right? Jo-Ji is always calling his dogs names, but sometimes I think he love them before me.’