The Fruit Gum Murders

by Roger Silverwood

  ‘Yes, sir. I got everything done there and I came home on Saturday afternoon.’

  ‘You got those memory sticks?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said. He put the two penknife-shaped objects on the desk. ‘It will be a daunting job checking that lot off.’

  Angel picked them up and looked at them. ‘Often that’s what police work is all about,’ he said. ‘Here you are,’ he added, passing them back to him. ‘Go through them. You know what we are looking for: a name, a familiar name out of all the people we’ve interviewed or seen or heard of, who might have held a grudge against Patrick Novak and Norman Robinson.’

  Crisp wasn’t pleased. ‘That’ll take ages.’

  ‘It’s a long shot,’ Angel said. ‘But it’s the only shot left to us.’

  ‘Right, sir,’ he said, and went out.

  Angel wondered if he had done the right thing in allocating that job to Crisp. It was a job that might have been better undertaken by Ahmed, who was most careful and systematic. However, Ahmed had a lot on at that time. Crisp was better employed persuading pretty female witnesses to confide in him, or tackling a tricky male suspect who tried to flex his muscles rather than answer awkward questions. He shrugged. All was not lost. It could always be changed.

  He pulled the pile of papers with the ever-present ugly ornament on the top.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ he called.

  It was Flora Carter. Her face was red and her eyes were bright.

  Angel knew she had something important on her mind. ‘Yes,’ he said, pointing to the other chair. ‘What’s up?’

  She sat down. She waved her mobile phone at him and said, ‘I just overheard a conversation between Harrison and Thomas Johnson. His mobile only seems to be used to communicate between the two of them. And Harrison is very guarded in what he says. He doesn’t use people’s names, or places. Only letters.’

  ‘Like a sort of code or shorthand?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He had a conversation with him a couple of minutes ago. I came straight to you. It seems to me that he wants a certain C to meet him at the G at two o’clock today. Now, sir, I interpret that to mean that he wants a girl called Christine or Carol, or some other girl whose Christian name begins with C, to meet him at two o’clock at the King George hotel.’

  Angel frowned. ‘Could be. That C could be that young girl he keeps being seen with. Why do you think he is telling Johnson?’

  ‘Presumably because Johnson knows the C girl, and can arrange it.’

  Angel rubbed his chin. ‘He’s already been seen twice in the vicinity of the King George, with a young girl. Don’t you think he’d have more sense and change his meeting place?’

  ‘You would think so, sir,’ Flora said. ‘It’s only an educated guess on my part, of course. The G could also stand for the gym. There’s that gym on that little street off Canal Road.’

  Angel didn’t reply for a few moments, then he said, ‘Harrison trusts Thomas Johnson, doesn’t he, Flora?’

  ‘He seems to, sir. Yes.’

  ‘Well, what would he do if he thought Johnson had given him away to the police, for instance?’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Who knows? He wouldn’t be pleased.’

  ‘Right. Let’s give him something to be displeased about. At the same time, we can check to see whether your interpretation of their code or shorthand is right or not. Hmm. Two o’clock today, you said?’

  FOURTEEN

  It was 1.45 p.m. that Monday, when Angel went into Ives the Chemists on Main Street in the centre of Bromersley. He was met by Mr Ives Senior and was immediately shown upstairs into their first-floor storeroom. It had a window through which Angel could see the front entrance of the King George hotel. Angel thanked Mr Ives and then the elderly man went back downstairs.

  At 1.50 p.m., two marked police patrol cars, Red Tango 1 and Red Tango 2, took up their designated positions. Each car had a driver and a co-driver who had in his possession a Heckler & Koch G36 C Rifle, which was out of sight of passers-by, but could be accessed by the patrolman in a second. Red Tango 1 drove onto a quiet corner of the big car park of the gym on Sykes Street off Canal Road, while Red Tango 2 drove round the back of the King George hotel. At 1.58 p.m., DS Flora Carter parked her car on a space at the back door of the chemists usually reserved by a car owned by Mr Ives Senior.

  Angel carefully placed his Glock G17 pistol, binoculars and camera on the window ledge in the chemist’s storeroom. He put on the earpiece of his RT set and called up each of the three units until they were all online.

  Then he said, ‘The first stage of this operation, remember, is to unsettle Harrison and Mickey. However we may not see them because they are very clever and very careful. They may come in disguise. They may not come at all. Afterwards, you may think they have not been. I ask you all to look vigilant and attentive, to keep your eyes open and not to take any action without first speaking to me. Also I ask you to report any sighting of Thomas Johnson, possibly with a female described as a girl. She’ll likely be “on the game” and probably known to us. Even if you don’t see any of them, it doesn’t mean that this exercise has necessarily failed. They or their lookouts will have seen you, and for this first stage of the exercise, I believe the operation will have been successful. It is now 2.00 p.m. Call out if you see anything of them or anything suspicious.’

  Angel took out his binoculars. He adjusted the focus, then scanned Main Street and the pavement at the other side of the road. He followed the pedestrians all the way to the entrance to the King George hotel. It was not very busy. Then he saw the burly figure of Thomas Johnson, who was taking big strides up the road. Beside him, a slim young woman with a big head of dark hair, in a short dress with no sleeves, was struggling to keep up. Angel trained the binoculars on her. He could see she was walking uncomfortably as her shoes had inordinately high heels. Presumably, she had not yet mastered how to walk elegantly in them. He couldn’t detect the detail of any of her facial features, but she plainly was wearing unusually orange-coloured lipstick.

  They got nearer. He picked up the camera, pointed it at the girl. He clicked it and kept clicking until she went into the hotel. Then he picked up the binoculars.

  ‘Calling Red Tango 2,’ Angel said.

  ‘Red Tango 2,’ came the reply.

  ‘Johnson and a slim young woman with a thick head of black hair have just entered the front entrance of the King George. So keep your eyes peeled. Have you noticed anybody observing you at all?’

  ‘Not that we know of, sir.’

  ‘Right. Now calling Red Tango 1.’

  ‘Red Tango 1. Nothing to report here, sir.’

  ‘Right,’ Angel said. Then, through his binoculars, he saw something that wasn’t expected. A big red car pulled up outside the front entrance of the hotel, the car door opened, then out of the revolving door ran Johnson and the young woman. They began to pile into the car. Angel’s pulse rate quickened. He grabbed the camera and clicked away several times as the car door closed and the car raced away.

  His jaw dropped. That was unexpected.

  ‘Calling cars Red Tango 1 and Red Tango 2,’ he said. ‘Leave your current positions and follow a big red car at present leaving the front of the King George hotel and travelling eastwards.’

  Both Red Tango 1 and 2 acknowledged the instruction, then Angel said, ‘Calling DS Carter.’

  ‘DS Carter here, sir.’

  ‘Come round to the front of the shop and pick me up ASAP.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  Then Angel pocketed the Glock pistol, put his binoculars and camera round his neck and rushed down the stairs. He waved a thank-you in the direction of the shop counter and hurried out onto the pavement on Main Street just as DS Carter arrived. She stopped the car at the side of him. He snatched open the front door, jumped into the car a
s she deftly pulled away in the direction of the villain’s car.

  An hour and a half later, both patrol car crews, plus DS Carter and Angel, trudged into the briefing room at Bromersley station and sat down. None of the cars had picked up the path the villains’ car had taken, nor had Angel been able to spot and record the car’s make and registration number.

  Angel stood up and said, ‘I want to thank all who took part in this operation this afternoon. Although we failed to see or arrest Harrison or Mickey “the loop” Zeiss, the operation has been far from a washout. Firstly, they still don’t know that we are monitoring the telephone calls between Johnson and Harrison. Secondly, it has now been established that DS Carter has accurately worked out the simple code in those calls. For instance, we now know that the letter G stands for the George Hotel and not the gym. So we are now well placed to find out what is happening between them, and hopeful of receiving information that will lead to us arresting them all and putting them away for good very soon. Thirdly, I don’t think they know that we were observing them today. Fourthly, we have a pretty good idea that the landlord, Jack Vermont, must be closing a blind eye to Harrison and his gang using his pub as a meeting-house, therefore we need to give him a wide berth until we are ready to prosecute. And fifthly, we now have photographs of Harrison’s girlfriend. From those pictures, I am hopeful that we might identify her.’

  Several of the team nodded and muttered agreeably.

  ‘Any questions?’ Angel said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Flora said. ‘What are we going to do about the Harrison gang now? I mean, we are not going to leave the situation like this, are we?’

  ‘No, Sergeant. We’re going to wait until you – hopefully – overhear Harrison setting up another meeting. And let’s hope it is very soon.’

  Then Angel said, ‘Anything else?’

  Patrolman Sean Donohue put up a hand.

  Angel nodded and said, ‘Sean?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Why were we parked at the back of the King George? Why not at the front?’

  ‘I thought that Harrison intended meeting Johnson and the girl inside the hotel, and I didn’t want them thinking that we knew he was going to be there but that the patrol car driver – you in this instance – and his mate were having a natural break and that police presence was a coincidence. The plan was not to have them rush off like that, but to make them nervous enough not to settle there. Also I didn’t think he would arrive by car. I thought he would park up somewhere and walk it to the hotel. Anyway, someone obviously saw your patrol car, probably the landlord Vermont, phoned it through to Harrison, who changed his plans at the last minute and made his escape with the girl, as we all know.’

  Donohue nodded.

  ‘Anything else?’ He looked round the room. ‘All right, thank you, chaps. Time is 3.20 p.m. Return to your usual duties.’

  He turned to DS Carter. ‘Thank you, Flora,’ he said and made for the door.

  On his way back to his office he passed the CID room, where he stopped, pushed the glass door open and saw Ahmed working at his desk. ‘Ahmed,’ he said.

  The young man jumped up and said, ‘Yes, sir?’

  Angel gestured for him to come out into the hall.

  ‘Come down to my office, lad. I want you to take my camera. I took ten or a dozen photographs of a young woman. We are trying to identify her. Will you reproduce the best onto the computer, enlarge them to the clearest picture and, well, you … you know what to do. Then print them off. Let me see the best.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  It was nine o’clock Tuesday morning, the 11th June. Ahmed came into Angel’s office. He was carrying a yellow paper file.

  ‘I’ve got those photographs of the girl and the car, sir,’ Ahmed said. ‘I’ve put them through the identification website but she doesn’t seem to be known. That’s if it works.’

  Angel took the file. ‘What do you mean – if it works?’

  ‘Well, sir, if we can rely on it to be accurate.’

  Angel opened the file. ‘I’m told that it is very accurate, lad. There’s something individual – like fingerprints – about the eyes.’

  He looked through the neat colour prints of the girl that he had prepared.

  ‘Ah, well, maybe it needs a full frontal shot of the face, sir,’ Ahmed said. ‘And you didn’t get that.’

  ‘No, lad, I didn’t,’ he said.

  He turned over the last print and said, ‘I don’t recognize her. But that orange lipstick is very distinctive. I haven’t seen orange-coloured lipstick since … well, for years. We’ll have to keep looking.’ He selected the best print and said, ‘Create a “Wanted” poster, A4 size, for internal use only, using this photograph. Print off enough for everyone at the briefing meeting at the ten o’clock parade and a few others for the reception and the canteen noticeboards. And see to the distribution, will you?’

  Ahmed nodded.

  Angel said, ‘If we can get that girl, we have a chance at bottling Harrison through his back door.’

  Ahmed frowned. ‘His back door, sir?’

  ‘Attacking him from a direction he wouldn’t expect,’ he said impatiently. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘The car, sir.’

  Angel said, ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘The photographs are a bit blurred, but I know a bit about it.’

  Angel was surprised. He looked up at him. ‘What do you know, lad?’

  ‘Well, it’s a Jaguar 3-litre V6 turbocharged diesel, sir. It has four doors, so it’s in their LWB Portfolio range. It’s in metallic paint which Jaguar call Italian Racing Red.’

  Angel frowned. He was amazed that Ahmed knew so much about it.

  He rubbed his chin. ‘Are you sure?’ he said.

  ‘You can see the Kasuga alloy wheels, the twin tailpipes and the XJ badge on the left side of the boot lid, sir. Oh yes, sir, I’m sure. I’m positive.’

  Angel sniffed and said, ‘And I suppose you know how much it cost?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir. Just under £71,000.’

  Angel blinked. ‘It’s a pity we couldn’t get the registration number. You’d better put it on the PNC and see if it’s wanted.’

  ‘I have already done that, sir, without the registration and there’s no match.’

  ‘You’re making me feel superfluous, lad.’

  Ahmed smiled. ‘I might be useful gathering up the info, sir, but you’re the one who puts it all together, fills in the gaps and makes sense of it all.’

  Angel pulled an unhappy face and said, ‘Aye. I do.’ Then he breathed out deeply and added, ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘You will, sir. You will.’

  ‘Right. Crack on with that “Wanted” poster then.’

  Ahmed went out.

  Angel rubbed the temples at the side of his head. He relaxed his face muscles. His eyes were tired. He closed them briefly. Then he dragged open the top drawer of the desk. He thought he might have some paracetamol tablets somewhere. He couldn’t find them. He slammed it shut and pulled open another drawer and scrabbled around inside it. He closed that one and opened the bottom one.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ he called, still rummaging in the drawer.

  It was Flora Carter. ‘Oh I’m glad you’re free, sir,’ she said.

  Angel looked up. She was panting. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were shining like car headlights.

  He closed the drawer, pointed to a chair and said, ‘Whatever’s the matter, lass?’

  ‘I’ve just overheard a conversation between Harrison and Thomas Johnson.’

  Angel looked up. He forgot the paracetamol. ‘Yes? Go on,’ he said.

  ‘I wrote it down so that I shouldn’t get it wrong.’ She looked at her notebook and said, ‘Harrison has just phoned Thomas Johnson and told him to book a suite in the F for tomorrow in the name
of MacDonald. As it’s a posh pad, get C to wear a smart dark suit. To go out and buy one if necessary. And he told him to smarten himself up as well and to put on a tie. To bring her in at two o’clock. And he said that he would be there before then.’

  Angel rubbed his chin and smiled.

  ‘Great stuff, Flora. Hop off and tell Trevor Crisp, Ahmed, Ted Scrivens and Leisha Baverstock that I want them in the briefing room in ten minutes.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  He reached out for the phone and tapped in a number.

  He was soon speaking to his old friend Detective Inspector Waldo White, at Wakefield, who was in charge of the Firearms Security Unit.

  After some friendly banter, Angel said, ‘It’s like this, Waldo: we have reliable information that Harry “the hatchet” Harrison has arranged for a rendezvous with a regular tart at the Feathers hotel here in Bromersley tomorrow at two o’clock. He seems to have the hots for her. Thomas Johnson will be bringing the girl, and Mickey “the loop” Zeiss may also be there.’

  White gave a short, one-note whistle. ‘Wow! Hey, Michael, that would be quite a coup. Wasn’t it Harrison who shot that van driver in Essex, then beheaded the poor man with a meat cleaver?’

  ‘Yes, simply because the van driver tried to prevent him stealing his cargo of gold bars. And there are three other cases of murder executed in exactly the same way. It has become his trademark.’

  ‘Shocking,’ White said. ‘And alarming,’ he added.

  ‘Well, it is very likely that Harrison and Mickey will be armed.’

  ‘What is known about this Mickey “the loop” Zeiss? Such a daft name.’

  ‘Aye. All I know is that he’s from Austria, he’s only a little man, and he does Harrison’s dirty work. That is, killing to order. We can’t be certain about Thomas Johnson and the girl. Now, Waldo, we cannot put any of the public who may be in any part of the hotel at risk. Nor can we ban the public from the place or take those sorts of precautions because Harrison would notice and may start firing off or take flight. Therefore we must wait until he and whoever else is present are settled and assembled in the one room, and then they must be surprised and overwhelmed before they can reach for their weapons. That’s the brief.’