by Larry Igbon
“Rumours. Supposedly at one of his business facilities. I have no grounds to search his businesses based on supposition.”
“Grounds? The man’s a bloody, known killer, what’s wrong with you?”
Sykes stood and pointed at him, “Listen, Ramsay, leave this case to the police. Don’t interfere. He is not a man to challenge; he’s evil and violent.”
Ramsay blinked and smiled in mock surprise. “I’ve spent half my life among the evil and violent, and I’m still here. Thanks for your time, Sykes. I’ll capture this gutless bully my way.”
“I’m warning you—”
Ramsay was on his way through the door. “I’m warning you, Inspector. If you can’t help me, stay the hell out of my way.”
* * *
It was less than two hours since Ramsay had spoken to Grant and disturbed him. He knew his quarry organised his affairs. He would have his minions covering the airports by now. Time to fan the flames. He took the phone provided by Wallace and called Grant’s mobile number.
“Hello.”
“How’s it going, Grant?”
“You again, how the hell did you get this number?”
“Calm yourself, I have a lot more than your phone numbers. I possess all the information I need to chart your every move. Do you know what time it is?”
“What kind of stupid question is that?”
“I wondered if you’d missed your twenty-four-grand Rolex yet. I got it last night. Didn’t you notice I took it?”
“Who gave you my bloody watch? Where’d you get it?”
“Hold on to yourself, scumbag, nobody gave it. I came to your bedroom last night and took it off your nightstand while you were sleeping. You were snoring so loud I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I thought you’d rouse that redhead for sure. It’s baffling how she could lie beside a greasy slug like you.”
“You’re a dead man, Ramsay, a bloody dead man. You see what we did to your brother? That was nothing. I’m going to make you wish you’d never crossed me.”
“Are you saying you and your gang tortured and killed my brother? Well, are you?”
“YES! You interfering bast—”
Ramsay closed the phone and put it in a brown envelope. He scribbled notes on a sheet of paper and put it in the envelope. Then he phoned Wallace with some new instructions.
A fiendish grin played at the corners of his mouth. His thoughts lingered on the impending hell hovering above his adversary.
* * *
As he looked up at the sign, he cursed under his breath. Sadness was inevitable at this moment, but he pushed the feeling away.
Julia Parry was delighted when she received his call and agreed to meet him at Elite Automobiles. As he walked into to the showroom, she spotted him from her office. Standing up, she waved him to join her.
Ramsay entered the office and hurried towards her with his right hand extended. “Hello, Julia, it’s good to see you again.”
“Tom, I’m so glad you’re here.” She shook his hand but held on to it as she led him to a chair.
He sat as she walked around her desk. “Our lawyer’s been here most of the morning helping me sort things out.” She patted a pile of folders on her desk.
“Oh? No problems I hope?”
“Gerry Grant is one big problem. He’s tried to keep our business deal going, even after Craig told him to go to hell. He still has two prestige cars here, and he knows we’re not trying to sell them for him.”
“What’s his response to that?”
“He put it in the hands of his legal team to sort out. Our respective lawyers have agreed that we had every right to end the deal. He tried to argue that I couldn’t afford to trade without his cars on display.”
“Any truth in that?”
“None. Craig and I put a partnership protection policy in place in case anything happened to either partner. Grant’s lawyers advised him to remove his cars from here, today. Someone’ll be here to collect them in the next hour.”
“Ah, the power of insurance?”
“An excellent policy, written in trust. If anything happened to either of us, the other got the proceeds. A quarter of a million pounds. It’s already gone into the business account.”
“So, will the business continue to function, or do you want to sell it?”
“Sell?” She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Not a chance. Elite Automobiles will carry on trading.”
“Good for you. I wish you the best of luck. Will you take another partner?”
She folded her arms and looked into his eyes. “Why? Are you looking for a business with potential?” Her eyes twinkled as she smiled.
“I can’t believe I asked you that. I’m sure you can do a great job here as a sole proprietor.”
“Don’t worry, no offence taken. Still, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
He gave a thoughtful expression, as if he were considering it. Then, grinning he said, “It’s a tempting offer, but I’ll have to decline.”
She laughed. “Craig talked about you all the time, you were his hero. I know you’re not a nine-to-five kind of man, I was joking.”
“I guessed as much, and he told me all about you.” He nodded as if in appreciation. “He was right in every respect.”
Her cheeks burned as he smiled into her eyes. She hurried to the door. “Don’t run away, I’ll organise coffee.”
“Great, I’d love some.”
They carried on talking as they sipped. She sensed there was something worrying him. “Tom, whatever we know about Grant’s involvement with Craig’s death we can’t prove. The police say there’s no evidence against him and they’re satisfied with that. We found the diamonds, and we confronted him. I wish we’d left it to the police.” She tapped her fingernails on her cup before raising it to her lips.
“From what I know about Grant, that wouldn’t’ve worried him.” He stirred his coffee, then leaned forward. “My research shows he’s an expert at persuading people to view things his way. And not with violence alone. He’s always prepared to try money first, then he moves on to psychology.”
Julia narrowed her eyes and inclined her head a little. “Psychology? How do you mean?”
He took a sip. “It starts with veiled threats against the business. Next come cautions about the welfare of employees or family members. References to something terrible that happened to someone else. My source informs me that victims reach a breaking point after lack of help from the police. That’s when he completes the deal—on his terms.”
She pressed the top of her fist against her lips and rose from her chair, then folded her arms and looked him in the eye. “I swear that won’t happen with Elite Automobiles.” She tapped the fingers of her right hand, against her left arm.
He raised his cup and stood up. “I like the way you think, Miss Parry, and I’m glad to see we’re in agreement. Carry on doing business your way; I’ll see that creep pays for killing my brother.”
“How can you prove it was him? How do you know?”
“I spoke to him on the phone earlier. I pushed him, and he told me.”
“You should tell the police. DCI Sykes, he’ll arrest him.”
“I’ve sent Sykes the phone I used to record his confession. The inspector can’t arrest him on the strength of it. It’s not evidence, only hearsay. All he has to do is say I provoked him, and he answered in anger and frustration.”
“Yes, I see what you mean . . .”
“Don’t dwell on it.” He drained his cup, “That killer’ll get his comeuppance.”
“Be careful, Tom, he’s a dangerous thug capable of horrible things.”
“I’m always careful, Julia, it’s time for him to worry now. I’ll teach him things he couldn’t begin to imagine about his own fear.”
She frowned, lowering her head, “You frighten me when you talk that way. I have a bad feeling; I’m not sure why, but I keep thinking something terrible is about to happen.” As s
he reached for her cup, he took her hand and held it.
“Listen, I’ve spoken to Sykes. If you receive any threats, all you need do is tell him. If any of the gang tries to intimidate you, cops’ll be all over him. Will you stop worrying? Please?”
“OK, I’ll try.”
“I’ll call you later, to make sure Grant removed his cars.” He patted her hand before making for the door.
“Thanks, Tom, I’m not so worried now. Bye.”
* * *
Relief flooded her mind as Julia Parry handed over the keys and paperwork to Grant’s colleagues. The release from her earlier feeling of distress surprised her. Although she was uplifted, her hands trembled a little. It was only after the men had driven the cars away from her showroom that she smiled.
After closing up for the day, she joined two of her salespeople for a scheduled meeting. Buoyed by recent events, she kept the meeting brief. By 7:00 pm she was about to lock up and head home when one of her mechanics charged in and told her there was a fire in the stock room.
She smelled the smoke the moment she heard his voice. As she opened her mouth, the young man grabbed her arm and propelled her to the pavement. Once there, he told her to stay well back. No sooner had the words left his mouth than a series of bangs erupted from inside. Flames surged into the showroom, slapping the ceiling and crawling up the walls.
They both urged passers-by to give the unit a wide berth. Then came two monumental thunderclaps, followed by the sound of shattering glass. That was all the confirmation the public needed. As if by prior arrangement, all the females shrieked and started working their phones. Others leapt into their vehicles to escape the danger they now recognised.
Most of the products in the storeroom and unit were combustible. Replacement tyres packed the stock room and mechanics’ bay. Flames crept across the showroom floor, igniting vehicles as they went.
Orange balls of fire seemed to roll outwards, filling the showroom, landing on anything in their path and devouring it like ravenous beasts. Counters, desks and tables ignited and blazed. Then, charred or molten, curled onto the floor in ugly piles.
The distant sound of sirens grew louder. Firefighters arrived and sprang into action. They moved fast and took control with refined precision.
The inferno raged on, spitting showers of sparks, cinders and ash. It was also now spewing flames of orange and blue, accompanied by toxic smoke.
The firefighters doused the blaze with relentless jets of water, despite the intense heat pushing towards them.
Long, trembling plumes of black smoke ascended towards the skyline. The noxious smoke bonded to hair, fabric and nature as it rose and fell.
Julia spoke with the emergency services and answered their questions. The fire crew manager questioned her about how the fire had started and promised to let her know when he discovered the cause.
Deciding that her continued presence was superfluous, she went to her car. As she unlocked it, she turned to take a last look at Elite Automobiles. At that moment, most of the fire was under control. Firefighters wearing breathing apparatus were busy with the burning tyres. DCI Sykes was talking to the crew manager.
Julia was a tough young business woman, and tears were not her style. Nonetheless, as she watched the hectic scene get smaller in her rear-view mirror, her eyes became a little misty.
Her phone rang and she glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number, and her first thought was Grant. He may have wanted to gloat or threaten worse to come. You’ve sure picked the wrong time to call. Emboldened by fury, she stabbed the green button with her finger. “What?”
“Whoa! Did I get the wrong number?”
“Tom, it’s you. I’m sorry. I’m having a hellish time, sorry for snapping.”
“What’s up? Didn’t Grant’s guys move the cars?”
“They took them, yes. But half an hour later the showroom was ablaze.”
“What? Are you OK? Where are you now?”
“The showroom’s still burning, but I’m fine. I’m on my way home.”
“Right. Well this is no good. Can we talk about this at your place? Do you mind if I come around?”
“I don’t mind at all, I’d love you to come around. Let me give you the address.”
“No need, I know the address, I’ll be there soon. Be careful.”
Chapter 3
He arrived at her apartment shortly after 8:00 pm. She greeted him over the entry intercom and buzzed open the door. After ascending the stairs to the first floor, Ramsay knocked on her door.
She invited him in and he stood in the small hallway, waiting for her to lead him inside.
It was clear she had showered and washed her hair because she stood before him in a grey lounge-wear ensemble. “How’s it going?” he asked.
“I’ve been better.” She sounded so glum in that moment that his heart lurched. He held out his arms, “It’ll be OK, you’ll see.”
She walked into his embrace and wrapped her arms around him. “I hope so, Tom. I hate feeling helpless.”
Her hair smelled like mango. “That’s negative talk, and I’ll have no more of it. Do you hear?”
She pushed away and looked into his eyes. “Have you eaten? Because you’re welcome to stay and share with me.”
“No, I haven’t, and thank you for asking. What are you making?”
“Oh, I thought you would cook. The kitchen’s that way.” Standing on tip-toes, she kissed his cheek and pushed him towards the door.
As he walked into the kitchen, the aroma of garlic, basil and lemon-zest welcomed him. He breathed a sigh of relief and wagged his finger at her.
She pouted. “Well I didn’t like that ‘negative’ crack.”
With a grin, he held his hands up. “Well I’m sorry, but it needed saying. How about it?”
“OK. No more negative talk. I hope my pasta Primavera is up to your standards.”
“So do I, but I have a good feeling,” he sniffed and smiled. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“So polite, what a gent. Please open the wine?” She pointed to the counter.
“Sure. Are you relaxed enough to talk now? Would you prefer to eat first?” He picked up the bottle and corkscrew and popped out the cork.
“I’m fine now that you’re here. Talk away.”
With a smile, he sloshed chilled Soave into two glasses, raising his eyebrows. “Did you speak to the fire crew manager? Or the police?”
“Yes. The fire guy is going to let me know as soon as he finds out what started the fire. That may take a while; he mentioned an investigation.” They tapped glasses, then sipped. As the wine slipped down, they smiled their appreciation.
“You must prepare yourself for a long wait.” He picked up a pencil and notepad from the counter. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. What are you doing?”
He sketched a building plan as viewed from overhead, then split the plan into several sections representing rooms and corridors. “Fire investigation is about showing how and where the fire started. Sometimes, those two facts can show what caused the blaze. But other times, more intense investigation is necessary. In fact, it’s vital in arson cases like this.”
“So that’s what you meant by a long wait?”
“Yes. Look here.” He put a cross in one section of his sketch. “Let’s say this is the front of Elite Automobiles, your office in fact. Imagine this is the area of origin.” He drew a smaller cross in the same section. “Here you have a faulty electrical lead connected to, say, a photocopier; that’s the ‘origin’ of the fire.”
“Ah, yes I get that. I understand why it may take time.”
She carried the pasta plates to the table and set them down. “I guess that could mean a great deal of work and scientific analysis. No quick solution, right?” She placed her cooking pot centre-table and raised the lid. Distracted by the tantalising harmony of fragrance and colour, he fell silent.
She snapped her fingers twice. “Tom?”
; He tapped the pencil on the paper and shot her a sympathetic grin. “Correct. The problem, from a business point of view, is the time factor.”
“I see no problems in that respect.” He inclined his head and raised an eyebrow. “My father is an independent financial adviser, he helped Craig and I with our business set-up. Because he waived his commissions, everything he set in place for us is the best.” She ladled the food onto their plates.
“Like the partnership protection insurance?”
“Yes, plus all our business insurances. Elite won’t cease because of re-building delays. The insurance will cover all costs.”
“Sounds gold-standard; are the loss adjusters likely to see things your way?”
“The insurance company uses loss adjusters, but they have to remain independent. They’re considered impartial, so I’m not expecting any conflict. I’ve spoken to my father, and he’s already instructed a loss assessor to act on my behalf. It’s someone he uses who’s respected in the profession.”
“OK, I’m not quite sure what all that means, but I’m sensing you have no worries about the outcome.”
“None. A disaster is only a disaster if you don’t make adequate preparations.” She grinned and raised her glass.
“You are quite something.” He raised his glass in a toast.
She smiled and said, “I’m meeting the loss assessor at the scene in the morning. I’ll give him the inventory details and so on, and he’ll make a start. I’m expecting the insurance company’s loss adjuster to attend.”
“Do you mind if I stop by? I’d like to know what you find out, as there’s a good reason to suspect criminal action. I won’t interfere in your business.”
She set the salad bowl on the table and nodded. “I don’t mind at all. I’d be glad of the support. Let’s eat.”
* * *
When he woke the next morning, he expected it to be an eventful day. This would be the day he dealt with Grant. He felt no compunction about executing this violent gangster. In fact, he saw it as a service to decent society. There was a possibility he might fail, and he accepted that. If he charged in commando-style, Grant and his gang might reverse the situation. Things could go awry. Nobody is invincible; a career serviceman learns this truth early, otherwise he would not survive. But he had almost two decades of active service under his belt. He knew he would begin this encounter with the upper hand.