DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2

by Phillip Strang

  ‘He’s a personal friend,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Soon to be out on his ear.’

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘Goddard, he's playing politics. One wins, another loses.’

  ‘Are you, Superintendent Caddick, intending to be one of the winners?’

  ‘That I am.’

  ‘For myself, I intend to succeed by good policing.’

  ‘That’s the problem, Cook. You’re an idealist. The world is not what you believe. You’ve seen into the gutter on enough occasions. You know that people such as yourself are doomed to lose.’

  ‘That’s your view, not mine.’

  ‘Very well. How long before you bring in Holden’s killer?’

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘We’ll see. You’re off the disciplinary for now after the shooting in the solicitor’s office. Made yourself some sort of hero, but how did they know you were there and what was being said?’

  Several minutes after Caddick had left, Larry came into Isaac’s office. ‘He’s right,’ he said.

  ‘Caddick, I don’t think so.’

  ‘I’m not saying he came up with an original thought, but how did they know what we were talking about, and why shoot Slater when we’re in his office? They could have done that anytime.’

  ‘Ugly Pete, any success?’

  ‘I’ve got a lead on him and an address. I’ve got men keeping a watch on his house. The moment he’s spotted, we’re going in.’

  ‘The pub?’

  ‘He’s keeping away from there. If he killed Aberman, and he knows that Gus is in custody, he would realise we’re looking for him.’

  ‘How did you get the address?’

  ‘Ugly Pete’s not a popular man. He’s known for his rough tactics, and there are a few who wouldn’t mind seeing him off the street for a while.’

  ‘More than a while if he killed Aberman. Could he be the sniper at Slater’s?’

  ‘It’s not likely. The man’s not fit, moves slowly, and he’s not known for using a gun. He’s more into fists.’

  ‘According to Gus, he killed Aberman.’

  ‘Gus is scared of what could happen to him, or is he trying to shift the blame?’

  ‘Either. We’ll need Ugly Pete in here to know the truth. And Helen Langdon? She’s the tie-in between Aberman and Holden. How could so many people be so wrong about her?’

  ‘Focus on Ugly Pete. He’ll help to fill in the blanks.’

  Chapter 18

  Wendy Gladstone maintained her visits out to Mrs Hawthorne, Aberman’s neighbour. The woman was forgetful and glad of the company. After her third visit, Wendy could recite the Hawthorne family history, of how her husband had made his money in the city, how Mr Aberman had moved in several years after her husband had died, and how the man had helped her when she needed it.

  ‘We’ve found one of the men who dug the hole in Mr Aberman’s garden,’ Wendy said.

  ‘There were two.’

  ‘We’ve got a description and a name for the other one. Mr Slater, the solicitor, do you remember him?’

  ‘Yes. My husband used him occasionally.’

  ‘He was at the house the night that Mr Aberman died.’

  ‘He may have been. It was dark that night, and there were no lights in the driveway.’

  ‘We’ve also been told that he would attend the parties.’

  ‘I can’t remember seeing him there, but that’s not surprising.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I can’t see very well, really. I could tell if it was a man or a woman, but apart from that, it wasn’t so easy.’

  ‘We have reason to believe Mr Slater was involved in Mr Aberman’s death.’

  ‘My husband didn’t like the man, but he thought he was competent.’

  ‘On the night Mr Aberman died, you said you didn’t hear any noise.’

  ‘There was some noise, but it wasn’t a party. There were no women there.’

  ‘What sort of noise?’

  ‘Voices, that’s all.’

  ‘We know that Aberman was shot in the house. Are you saying you didn’t hear the shot?’

  ‘I went to sleep early. No party, no fun.’

  Wendy realised the woman could offer little more. She left and walked around to Aberman’s house. In the driveway, a car. ‘Mrs Aberman, this is a crime scene,’ she said.

  ‘I just wanted to see the place.’

  Wendy found the woman’s presence disturbing. ‘We need to talk,’ Wendy said.

  ‘If you want. Here?’

  ‘Not here. I suggest we go and sit in my car.’

  Seated in the car, Wendy turned to the woman. She could see that the ex-Mrs Aberman was not comfortable with the situation. ‘You knew your former husband owned this place?’

  ‘He bought it before we separated. When we divorced, I kept the house in London, he kept this one.’

  ‘Which one do you prefer?’

  ‘I always preferred this one, but Ben liked to have his parties.’

  ‘And this house was better?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You knew about the parties while you were married?’

  ‘They were tamer when I lived with him, and Ben, he behaved himself. He changed with time, became more of a risk-taker, and some of the people he associated with, well, they were disturbing.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘More criminal. Some of them were charming, especially the more important ones, but they’d arrive with extra men, men who’d sit outside in the car or lean against it. I think some of them carried guns.’

  ‘Tell me about the parties when you were here.’

  ‘Ben liked to entertain. I would go on about the cost, but he said it was good for business. Not that I understood how, but the man was a good provider, so I left him to it.’

  ‘Women?’

  ‘There’d be women, and yes, couples were pairing off, but it was nothing serious. And Ben stayed with me. Sure, there was too much alcohol, and some of the guests were into cocaine. I would have preferred a quiet night at home with a bottle of wine, but that wasn’t to be. It was the parties that drove us apart.’

  ‘Helen?’

  ‘I’d heard the rumours about her, but I ignored them. I married Ben when we were both young, and he was always faithful. I knew about the clubs, can’t say I approved, but Ben liked to live on the edge, and in time I accepted his unusual way of making an income.’

  ‘The man changed?’

  ‘Not for a long time.’

  ‘The suspicious signs?’

  ‘Lipstick on the collar, not kissing me on coming home, straight in the shower. The signs were there, but for a long time I ignored them. I just didn’t want to believe them.’

  ‘What convinced you?’

  ‘I paid someone to check out the club. A private investigator. He visited the club, found my husband in a compromising position with one of the women. I know people expect the owner of a strip club to be nefarious, but Ben wasn’t like that. We were a conventional married couple at home, but in the club, he was the sleazy manager of a sleazy club. Almost like play acting.’

  ‘What happened when you found out about the other woman?’

  ‘I confronted him. He admitted to his guilt, and that was that.’

  ‘You must have seen him from time to time.’

  ‘I did for a few months, and then, after that, rarely.’

  ‘Did you know Nicholas Slater?’

  ‘We used the man for the purchase of the house in Bray. I didn’t like him very much.’

  ‘He was shot.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And yet you come to this house knowing full well that whoever shot him could be watching this house.’

  ‘In the event of Ben’s death, this house belongs to me. It was in the divorce settlement.’

  ‘Your husband disappears for years, and you were never suspicious?’

  ‘What could I do? And besides, I had no need of the house. I was, am, comfortable with what I�
�ve got, and I don’t have the searing ambition that Ben had, but now the house is here, and I’d like it back.’

  ‘He was killed in the house.’

  ‘I know, and probably I’ll sell it.’

  ‘Can you prove the house is yours?’

  ‘Yes, I can. Slater and my solicitor drew up the agreement. I have a document at home signed by both parties.’

  ***

  On the fourth day of staking out Ugly Pete’s house, he appeared. By that time the two teams that had been rotating to watch the house were bored, and if it had not been for one of the men looking over towards the house at the last minute of their shift, they would have missed him.

  Ugly Pete’s house, 34 Victoria Street, Croydon, was not everyone’s idea of a desirable residence. It was on the rougher side of the area and getting rougher. On the footpath outside, a broken chair had been dumped for the council to pick up. Inside the front gate were an old bicycle, a discarded child’s toy.

  Isaac and Larry drove over to the man’s house, even though it was one o’clock in the morning. At the back of the house, two uniforms waited. Out front, an armed response team. The man inside was known to be dangerous and probably armed.

  Sergeant Gaffney of the Specialist Firearms Command knocked on the door – no response. He hit it harder the second time. A window opened upstairs. ‘What do you want?’ a gruff voice said.

  The light of a street lamp shone in the man’s face. ‘I can see why they call him ugly,’ Larry said.

  ‘Police,’ Gaffney said.

  ‘Can’t a man have a good night’s sleep?’

  ‘If you open this door, we can resolve this in a few minutes.’

  The head at the upstairs window pulled back. ‘He’s getting ready to make a run for it,’ Isaac said.

  Gaffney gave the instruction. ‘This man is regarded as extremely dangerous.’ With that, another officer took hold of a battering ram and slammed it into the front door. It opened with no difficulty. A man was coming down the stairs in a hurry. ‘Police,’ one of the officers shouted. A short scuffle, an attempt to draw a weapon, and then Ugly Pete was handcuffed and in the back of a marked police car.

  ‘Where to?’ the driver of the car asked.

  ‘Challis Street Police Station. Put him in one of the holding cells for now,’ Isaac said.

  He and Larry entered Ugly Pete’s house and looked around, careful not to disturb anything. Downstairs was spartan and not clean. Upstairs, only one of the rooms had a bed. It was dirty; the sheets had not been changed for some time.

  ‘We need a weapon,’ Larry said. ‘I’ll stay and check the place.’

  ‘Do we need the crime scene examiners here?’ Isaac said.

  ‘Not yet. There’s been no crime here except against good taste.’

  ***

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ Ugly Pete said. He was in an interview room. He had accepted legal aid. Wendy had one conviction against him, his lack of hygiene; the man stank of body odour and stale beer.

  ‘Your full name,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Peter Foster.’ Isaac could tell the man had not shaved or showered for several days. His face was marked, the result of childhood acne, his nose twisted to one side. He was also short, matching the description that Gus and Mrs Hawthorne had given.

  Isaac was sure that Ugly Pete was Ben Aberman’s killer, but he didn’t look to be the sort of person to admit to anything. The only witnesses on that night were the old lady next door – and it had been dark, and her eyesight would not have been that good – and Gus, the Dixey Club’s doorman.

  ‘Mr Foster, you are aware of the Dixey Club?’

  ‘Not me.’

  Isaac leant over to the man’s solicitor. ‘I suggest you advise your client to answer questions when given. We know that Mr Foster frequents the area near to the club. A denial does not assist his case.’

  ‘What case is this?’ Ugly Pete said.

  ‘You’ve been informed. The murder of Ben Aberman.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mr Foster, we can confirm that you were at a house in the village of Bray when Ben Aberman was killed. We have two witnesses who will confirm that.’

  ‘Was I? That’s news to me.’

  ‘Ben Aberman, the owner of the Dixey Club, was beaten and tortured in that house. He was then shot, a bullet in the head.’

  ‘What’s that to do with me?’

  ‘We have a witness who will testify that you shot the man, and then you buried him in the garden of the house.’

  ‘Not me. I’ve killed no one.’

  ‘Are you going to continue to deny your knowledge of this house?’

  ‘I’ve never been there.’

  ‘Stupidity is not a defence,’ Wendy said.

  ‘If you’ve no proof, then why is my client here?’ the legal aid said.

  ‘Ben Aberman had a woman. She called herself Helen.’

  ‘I don’t know her either,’ Foster said.

  ‘She was a dancer at the club. She was recently shot in a hotel in Bayswater, together with a man. Also, she had a friend, Daisy, who was murdered.’

  ‘Are you trying to pin all of them on me?’ Ugly Pete said.

  ‘Not all. You did not kill the two in the hotel, nor Daisy. Those killings required a person of stealth. You’re not stealthy, more brute muscle. Another two murders, Aberman’s solicitor and his receptionist. Yet again, you could not have done it. It would have required an agile man to be on the roof opposite their office.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing on me,’ Foster said.

  ‘You’re a man with a record. How many times have you been charged with assault, how many convictions?’

  ‘I’m a violent man, but it doesn’t make me a killer.’

  ‘Mr Foster, you know who the men are who gave Aberman the money, the men who wanted it back. Aberman, we know, was not a person to be intimidated. That’s why you went to work on him in Bray, why you killed him, and why you and Gus, the doorman at the Dixey Club, buried Aberman in the garden. Gus is going down for enough years as it is. He’ll identify you as the killer if it reduces his sentence. And what about your fingerprints at the house?’

  ‘I wore…’

  ‘Gloves, is that what you were about to say?’

  ‘My client is not in a position to continue this interview. I am requesting that this interview is reconvened at a later time when Mr Foster has had a chance to change his clothes and to have a shower.’

  ‘I don’t think Ben Aberman had such courtesy when he was being beaten and tortured by Mr Foster,’ Isaac said.

  ‘My client vigorously denies his involvement.’

  ‘Mr Foster, we will be charging you with the murder of Ben Aberman. The person who buried the body with you will testify it was you who was the murderer.’

  ‘I’m innocent.’

  ‘The only way you can hope for some leniency is if you tell us who were the other men at Dixey’s the night you took Aberman. We know there were three. Who were the other two? And who or what is the organisation that Aberman signed the clubs over to? What is Helen Langdon’s significance in this?’

  ‘My client needs time to consider his position,’ the legal aid said.

  ‘Thirty minutes.’ Isaac said.

  Chapter 19

  Isaac took the opportunity of a break in questioning Ugly Pete to phone Larry.

  ‘I’ve found a weapon at Ugly Pete’s house,’ Larry said. ‘It took me a while. I just followed the dust in the house, found a clean spot. It was there, under a floorboard.’

  ‘Forensics, how long before they can give us a positive that it’s the weapon that killed Ben Aberman?’

  ‘It’s fitted with a silencer. Not legal in the UK, but Ugly Pete wouldn’t care. I’ll take it to Forensics myself. We should have an answer today.’

  ‘The man’s playing tough. He doesn’t want to admit to anything.’

  ‘If he’s convicted of Aberman’s murder, he’s not likely to see freedom for a long time.�
��

  The interview reconvened. Isaac had more ammunition with which to get the reluctant man to talk.

  ‘My client wishes to make a statement,’ the legal aid said. Isaac thought he was too young to be a solicitor.

  ‘When he’s ready,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I, Peter Foster, did not kill Ben Aberman. I knew of the Dixey Club, having been there on a few occasions. At one time, I was hired to visit the club in the early hours of the morning with two others. I do not know their names. The purpose of the visit was to escort Mr Aberman to his house in Bray. There was a Mr Slater present. After we had delivered the man, I left.’

  ‘Is that it?’ Isaac said.

  ‘That’s all I’ve got to say,’ Ugly Pete said.

  ‘Your solicitor has not advised you well. Although in his defence he does not know of your history, nor of certain facts. Before we go any further, let me outline what we know,’ Isaac said. ‘We have found a weapon at your house. Hiding it under a floorboard was not enough to deter Detective Inspector Hill. It is fitted with a silencer and is almost certainly the weapon that killed Ben Aberman. We do have a bullet from where the murdered man was buried. Also, we have Guthrie Boswell’s testimony that Mr Foster killed Aberman, and that he and Mr Foster buried the body in the garden.’

  ‘I had to do it,’ Foster said, leaping to his feet.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If I hadn’t shot him, they would have shot me.’

  ‘That’s not a defence,’ Wendy said.

  ‘I received this phone call. The man’s insistent it’s a pickup, a roughing up, make him sign a piece of paper. Nothing more, I swear it.’

  ‘Your speciality?’

  ‘That’s what I do. Men such as Aberman get down in the dirt. They don’t like it when they’re called to account.’

  ‘Why kill Aberman?’

  ‘I don’t know, but that’s what I was told to do.’

  ‘By who?’

  ‘Slater.’

  ‘And he’s dead.’

  ‘I only ever received text messages to be at a certain place at a certain time. The money’s paid into my account.’

  ‘You had the gun. You could have refused.’

  ‘Not with the people Slater represented.’