Chris Dundy was sitting behind the wheel of the unmarked police car; from time to time he tried to stretch his bulk by arching his back. She closed the log, there wasn’t any description that could have been Oscar Davenport.
She looked up as the lights of a vehicle shone through the back window of their car. Alex pushed the loose strands of her blonde hair into the band of her ponytail, picked up her Met Police baseball cap and slipped further down in her seat. Chris too lowered himself down to below the headrest and placed his hand on the ignition key. They remained motionless as a large white transit moved slowly along the cobbles. Once it had passed and they were in the dark again, they both sat up and watched the rear lights travel along the mews. Alex checked her watch, it was one thirty; she noted the time in the log book, then she began to record what she could see as Chris spoke softly into the microphone giving other officers waiting nearby the same information.
The van stopped and a tall overweight man got out of the driver’s side. He ambled towards the rear and looked round before opening the doors. Another man got out from the passenger side; he remained in the shadows, his body indistinct. Faint shadows allowed Alex to follow him as he walked towards the print shop.
‘Unknown male into premises,’ Chris relayed. ‘A second male, a big boy taking large package from rear and now into workshop. Instructions?’
A voice came over the radio, ‘Stay in position. Unit two will take over.’
A marked police car swept past them and turned across the mews, blocking the van’s exit, and behind that from another unmarked car four men ran towards it and disappeared.
‘Back home, unit one.’
‘We’re not getting any of the action then,’ said Chris as he switched on the ignition and reversed out of the mews. Alex briefly wondered if he thought they were being pulled away from the plot because the DCI was unwilling to have a woman in the front line. She pulled her hair loose and pushed the band into the pocket of her jeans. As Chris backed out of the mews, Alex saw the slim figure of a man standing close to the wall of one of the cottages. ‘Slow down.’
‘We’re in the way.’
‘Oscar Davenport. What’s he doing out at this time of night?’
Back at the station, Alex wandered into the canteen to wait for the rest of the team to return with the prisoners. Chris joined her and they checked the log to make sure it was correct before both of them signed it. The remaining members of the squad arrived, swaggering, their faces all smiles. ‘How much?’ Chris asked.
‘A couple of kilos of coke.’
The debrief was short. Within five minutes DCI Saltburn had organised the interviewing of the two suspects and made arrangements for the vehicle to be driven back to the station yard. He asked Chris Dundy to arrange for the examination of the van by the forensic team and to log the exhibits. Alex waited for her instructions.
‘Right, don’t forget the custody time limits. We need to crack on.’
The team of detectives stood up to leave but, as Alex made her way to the door, DCI Saltburn said, ‘Alex can we have a word.’
She came back into the room and he motioned her to sit down. When the rest had left he leant against the table. ‘Oscar Davenport. He’s the guy from the chambers where Hales works? You say he was at his door when the van arrived.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Was that a coincidence? Had he heard us driving into the mews?’
‘I thought he was wearing a coat. Of course he could have put it on to cover himself.’
‘No one else came to their door that we saw.’
‘Not as far as I’m aware. We waited on the plot until the other vehicles had arrived. Then we backed out, and I didn’t see anyone else in the street.’
‘I’d like to interview him but there isn’t really enough to justify an arrest.’ He paused and walked over to the window. ‘If we could get his telephone and trace the calls he made and received last night … Have you any idea how we might do that?’
‘Not really. Barristers’ own phone numbers aren’t on the chambers website.’
‘But someone else in those chambers will have the number?’
‘I would have thought so. If you’re asking me to contact Cassie Hardman again …’
‘I am. She owes you, doesn’t she?’
‘But these are her friends and colleagues.’
‘All I want to do is see if Davenport made or received calls from either of the phones we seized last night. If he didn’t, then end of investigation. If he did then he’s probably involved in the supply of the contaminated drugs.’
‘Can’t we tell from those phones?’
‘We would have to trace them. This would make the whole process quicker.’
Alex closed her eyes for a moment. ‘You’re the boss.’
‘Good. Go home and get some sleep.’
Alex continued working on the files on known drug users. She wasn’t sure how it could help in the investigation of the contaminated drugs, but she had been instructed to look for connections to Cotburn Mews. So far she had found none. From time to time she thought about the man who was harassing Cassie. She had a vague recollection of having seen or heard the name Delaney before. She searched the computer records and found a Felix Delaney. An informant had said Felix sold small quantities of cannabis and possibly cocaine. No action had been taken as a result of that. The record had an address for him in Cambridge Gardens.
Outside the police station she walked north, her long stride quickly covering the ground. At the corner of Ladbroke Grove and Cambridge Gardens she heard cat calls from a group of men working on some scaffolding. She ignored them. Some things never changed. That couldn’t be said of the houses in this part of London, which were always being renovated. A wolf whistle from one of the workmen distracted her and she half turned ready to put two fingers up to him, but then decided against it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had annoyed her.
A few minutes later she was standing outside the gate to 20 Cambridge Gardens. The large, rather rambling house on the north side of the road had a basement and three storeys above. At one end there was a tower-like structure rising out of the uppermost level. The property was built of grey stone and the many windows were painted a startling white. The wide front door was decorated to look like the door of Number 10 Downing Street, but the similarity stopped with a row of bells indicating it was in multiple occupation. There were a number of cars parked in the driveway: a white Citroen, a black BMW and a red Mini. She made a note of the registration numbers.
There were six doorbells, each with a name by the side, but none said Delaney. Alex looked at them and struggled to decide which one to try. After a slight hesitation, she pressed the one at the bottom labelled Kelly. Several seconds later, a woman’s voice on the intercom asked who was there. Alex said she was a police officer and she wanted to speak to Felix Delaney.
‘I don’t think he’s around.’
‘Perhaps you can help me. He’s not in any trouble.’
‘I’m not sure. Come in.’ Alex heard the sound of the front door being released and she pushed it open. She walked into a wide hallway with a black-and-white tiled floor. It smelt of disinfectant. In front of her a white painted staircase curled upwards. She was taking a step towards the stairs when a door to her right opened and a woman in her forties, or so Alex thought, appeared. Alex took out her warrant card and held it towards the woman. ‘Mrs Kelly?’ she said.
‘No, well, yes. Kelly Blackburn. What is it? What do you want?’
‘I want to talk to Mr Delaney.’
‘It might be better down here.’ Kelly Blackburn stood aside and led Alex through the door and down the steps to the basement.
Despite being on a lower floor, the flat was very light. The living room was level with the garden which had been planted, at least close to the windows, with a profusion of roses. The room was carpeted in a pale cream and the sofas were cream and pink chintz. Alex nodded approval.
‘How long have you lived here?’
‘About four years now. Malcolm, that’s the landlord, let me decorate the flat and I’ve got my own furniture.’
‘And the roses?’
‘I put those in as well. Improves the view. You mentioned Felix – what’s he done?’
‘I’m making some enquiries about drugs. He gave this address some weeks ago.’
Kelly pursed her lips. ‘Felix gave this address. When was that?’
‘A couple of weeks ago. If you don’t want to tell me if he lives here it’s up to you. I’m hoping he’ll be able to help our enquiries.’ Alex was betting that Kelly would provide the information she was looking for. She might be wrong.
Kelly rummaged around in her handbag, pulling out a packet of cigarette papers and a tin of tobacco. She took her time rolling a cigarette which she offered to Alex. Alex shook her head. Kelly lit the thin stick and took a deep breath. ‘Sometimes he’s here – the ground-floor flat with his brother and his dad.’
‘They’re called …?’
‘Malcolm and Adrian.’
‘The landlord is … Malcolm?’
‘He owns the house. They have a really big flat on the ground floor. The bell for their flat is the one on the left in a kind of stone dish. It’s the original one for the house.’
Alex nodded. ‘Right. I’ll try it again.’
‘There’s no point, they’re all out.’
Malcolm – Malcom Delaney. The name of the man who was stalking Cassie. Alex wanted to know more about the Delaney family. ‘Malcolm, he’s a good landlord?’
Kelly grimaced and looked out of the window towards the rose bushes. ‘I would say so. He wants the rent on time but he does any repairs quickly in return. That’s what he does – he’s a kind of handyman. He likes a quiet house so apart from the man in one of the top-floor flats, all the other tenants are women.’
‘Likes women, does he?’
‘The story I’ve heard is that one of his tenants ran off with his first wife, so no other men in the house. Although he isn’t living with anyone now. But I really don’t know him very well. He doesn’t say much about himself.’ She giggled. ‘The girl who was here before me said he has another woman somewhere. I think that must have been some time ago.’
‘It’s a big house. How can he afford this place on a handyman’s money?’
‘He inherited it from his grandmother. She bought it when no one wanted to live round here. Now it’s worth a bomb.’
‘What about the sons?’
Kelly sat forward, smoothing the skirt she was wearing over light grey leggings. ‘They’re nice boys. Adrian, well, not boys really. Charming I’d say.’ For a moment her eyes softened, and a smile flickered across her face, then she looked away and when her gaze came back to Alex there was hint of caution.
‘Adrian, a bit of a ladies’ man, would you say?’
‘I’ve said I don’t know them very well. Just when we meet, coming and going. Sharing a front door kind of thing. He’s far too young for me.’
‘Felix – any girlfriends?’
‘If he has I’ve never seen them. He’s hardly ever here. He’s quite a talented musician, plays with a band. On the road a lot. Quite keen on sport as well. I really don’t think I can help you.’
‘Does the name Gilbrook mean anything to you?’
Kelly took a drag on her cigarette. ‘Never heard it before.’ As she spoke she stood up and walked towards the stairs leading to the hall above. Alex followed her. When Kelly reached the top step, she stopped to let Alex pass her out into the hallway. ‘Sorry I can’t be more help.’
Chapter 29
Cassie was wandering round her flat after court rose on the second day of the Montgomery trial. For once she couldn’t be bothered to cook. Perhaps some pasta. She opened the tin in which she kept a packet of penne and then put it back. She got out her papers but couldn’t concentrate and when her mobile rang she held her breath before answering. It was Marcus.
‘Cassie, I’ve got a further statement to serve on you. It’s …’
‘What do you mean a further statement? Who from? What about?’
‘Calm down, my dear. The witness came forward after reading about the case in the Standard. She saw the incident but didn’t realise anyone had been injured. She rang the police yesterday, and the DS took a statement this morning. I want to send you a copy, if I can manage to scan it into the computer.’
Cassie gave him her email address and he told her he would send it straight away. She put the phone down and then telephoned James to tell him about this new witness. ‘I’ll forward you the statement as soon as I get it. From Marcus’s tone I think it’s probably a smoking gun.’
‘Fine. I was doing an advice in another case. I hope Marcus has the IT skills to scan it in.’
‘Don’t be fooled by his protestations of ineptitude. I’m sure he can scan the document and email it to me. He likes acting as if he’s computer illiterate. I’ll ring when I’ve read the statement.’
They didn’t have to wait long before the statement from the witness pinged into Cassie’s inbox attached to an email from Marcus which read:
‘Quite a significant witness.’
Cassie groaned, then she forwarded the email with its attachment to James and printed off a copy. As the printer clattered she began to read the statement onscreen.
The witness’s description of the incident outside the sweet shop made Cassie swear. As she completed the final page she threw the three sheets of paper onto her desk and picked up the phone.
‘Have you read it?’ Cassie said.
‘Not helpful.’
‘That’s understating it. It’s a disaster for us. An independent witness who saw the whole episode and our client looks like a raving lunatic.’
‘Doesn’t paint a pretty picture.’
‘It certainly doesn’t. Any bright ideas about cross examination or do we just hope Edie Munroe comes across as unreliable?’
‘We could ask about why she took so long to come forward? How did she miss the ambulance and police? Time delay caused a memory lapse. Do we need to get a copy of the report in the Standard and see what she may have picked up from the newspaper?’
‘That’s a great idea. I’ll search for it online and can you do the same. Then make a list of the similarities between them. If we both do that we might have a way of throwing the witness. Better get on with it.’
Before she could start looking for the piece in the newspaper, the Skype pop-up box told her Ben was online. She opened the window and called him. He answered almost straight away.
‘How’s the trial going?’ he said.
‘Quite well, until a minute or two ago. We’ve been served with another eyewitness statement that demonstrates what a pillock our client is. What about you? How’s the conference going?’
‘It’s ok. I’ve been to too many lectures and eaten too much. But there isn’t anything else to do here.’ He pulled a face. ‘Any more problems with the stalker?’
‘I’m still getting emails. He seems to dislike my cross examination. And the other night I thought there was somebody in the flat, but it was probably the girl downstairs. I called the police and the copper who came thought I was being paranoid.’
‘Do you think it was her?’
‘I was sure the noise was in the flat, but I was on the phone. I heard what I thought were footsteps going down, but no one left the building so perhaps it was her coming in.’
‘I guess so. What …’
‘Ben, I really have to do some work on this new witness. Looking at the newspaper reports and all that. Speak to you soon. Lots of love.’
‘Sure, and keep the doors locked.’
Cassie smiled and blew him a kiss before clicking on the red icon. She was soon searching the Standard’s website and found the articles describing the three days of the trial, and then she looked for the report at the time the incident occurred. Before she had the cha
nce to read it, her mobile rang.
‘I gather the officer who came the other night thought you were a hysterical female,’ Alex said.
‘Did he?’
‘Cassie, there’s more to this than you’re saying.’
‘I’ve no idea who this Delaney is. What he wants. He started by referring to this case I was in – I told you, a rape case. Paul Sadler was the defendant. I can’t see any connection. I’ve searched through the papers and there isn’t anyone with that name.’
‘You didn’t mention it to the officer.’
‘No, I didn’t. I’ve so much going on and … the notes aren’t threatening.’
‘But disturbing … at least for the moment.’
‘I keep hoping they’ll stop, but perhaps when this case is over … The client is very difficult and I’m having to combat his prejudices all the time. I haven’t the time to make a complaint. Alex, I have some work to do now. Can we leave it?’
‘Sure, sure. It’s your decision, but I think I know who he is or at least someone with the same name …’
‘What? Who?’
‘I’ve come across someone with the same name, but I can’t see any connection with this case of yours either. You know, harassment can escalate very quickly. If you’ll only make a complaint there would be a proper investigation into this man.’
‘I can’t. Not at the moment.’
‘You’re stubborn. Think about it. Make a complaint and it’ll probably stop.’
‘Not now. Really, I know you’re trying to be helpful but …’
Cassie switched off her phone and turned back to her computer screen. The first mention of the incident the day after was very short. The report of Marcus’s opening remarks was more detailed and outlined the facts of the case against Montgomery. Cassie listed the details of the event, separating out what she thought was the journalistic twist on the facts, and then highlighted the sections in the statement that bore a resemblance to the incident as described in the press. She was perplexed by the absence in Munroe’s statement of any reference to the emergency services arriving and asked herself if the witness was describing the same incident. She did refer to the shopkeeper wielding a golf club, but she could have got that from the newspaper.
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