Page 71 of Ink's Devil

“It appears to us that you are very much involved, Mr McNeish. Our evidence shows that you were caught handing over a vast amount of heroin to one Fender Childs.”

“At gunpoint,” Sykes puts in.

Barker continues as if that point is of no interest to him. “What is your relationship to Fender Childs, Mr McNeish?”

“I don’t know the man.”

The detective seems to sneer at my honest reply. “Mr Childs has a record for dealing. Only small fry up to now, but it looks like he may have upped his game. Do you deny you were passing him his stock?”

And admit I was supplying drugs for sale? No way. “I do deny it.” My tone is forceful, my voice strong.

Now Hastings steps in. “If you weren’t handing them over, and it was as your lawyer purports, at gunpoint, perhaps you were intending to sell them yourself?”

I shake my head fast. I’m becoming frustrated. “No. Are you interested in hearing what actually happened?”

Barker leans back and folds his arms, half turning to Hastings, he raises an eyebrow seeming to telegraphthis will be good.When Hastings smirks back, he offers magnanimously, “Go ahead.”

“As I said, dealing had been going on behind the club, and at our other premises. Satan’s Devils are known for keeping that shit away, so we presume someone saw sites other dealers were staying away from. Somewhere with a demand and no one supplying.” I draw in a deep breath, knowing I need to choose my words carefully. “We don’t need the wrong sort of reputation. We were there last night to try to keep that business away, not encourage it. We even knew there was going to be a heavy police presence and a SWAT team coming in.”

Barker’s eyes widen. “How?” he snaps.

I shrug. “You brought our VP in for questioning. He overheard a conversation.” I’m not dropping Beef into anything. He’d done nothing wrong, it was them who were careless.

“You should have known to stay clear in that case.”

“I did. Or tried to, at least.”

He waves to indicate I should carry on, but his yawn suggests he’s bored.

“I was waiting with Sparky. A man appeared from behind us. He was tall, not far off my height. Slim build. He was carrying a rucksack and something about him looked suspicious.”He, him. Keep emphasising he was male to throw them off the scent.“I knew he wasn’t the dealer.”

“How?” Hastings interrupts.

My shoulders rise and fall. “Supposition. This man was nervous, scared. Could have been a user himself. He didn’t have the confidence to be dealing. Also, he was totally unaware of his surroundings, whereas a dealer will always be on his toes, keeping one eye open for danger. Anyway, as he came past me all I could think was that bag might be holding drugs, and that he was a delivery boy. So, I went to confront him.”

“He was heading toward the cops,” Barker interrupts.

“I didn’t know exactly where you’d set up. I thought there was a chance you could miss him. Tits Up is important to us, we have sworn to protect its reputation. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking straight, all that was in my head was stopping drugs coming onto our premises.”

“Carry on,” Barker prompts, but his disinterested tone of voice suggests I’m not convincing him.

“I confronted him. There wasn’t time to tell Sparky, and I needed to be quiet.” I grimace as though annoyed. “I thought Sparky would be right behind me, instead he stayed where he was. Turns out he isn’t a mind reader.”

“So, you say you challenged this man?”

“I did. I grabbed the rucksack, and he ran off. I didn’t think I could catch him, so decided to bring the bag and its contents to your lot. I was walking with it when the dealer… what did you call him? Fender? Like the guitar?” I wait for their nods. “Well, this Fender stepped out from the shadows and held a gun on me. I had no option but to pass him the rucksack, and the rest you know.”

“You are correct that Mr McNeish had drugs in his possession, but only for a matter of seconds. He also was unaware exactly what was in the rucksack. Mr McNeish was performing a civic duty at the time.” I could kiss Sykes for his excellent summation, but refrain.

“That’s your story?” Barker scoffs.

“That’s the truth,” replies Sykes, giving his own look of challenge. “Mr McNeish has never met this…” he looks down at the notes he’d been taking, “Fender Childs in his life. He has no connection with Mr Childs.”

“Then he was going to be dealing himself.”

Sykes eyes widen. “Few things wrong with that. First, the Satan’s Devils have no reputation for dealing drugs, in fact, the opposite. The police know they keep them away from that area of Pueblo.”

“That could have changed,” Hastings suggests. “Or Mr McNeish is the person responsible for dealing either with or without the blessing of his club.”

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