The doors opened on the ground floor and they headed for the sleek glass exit to the building. As they came out, they descended the stone steps to the pavement that was now bustling with commuters heading to Waterloo Station. The air was warm and smelled of cigarette smoke and the diesel fumes from two buses that were waiting at a busy bus stop.
Spotting their black BMW car up on the right, Ruth reached inside her jacket to get the keys. Both her and Lucy were clearly deep in thought about Charlie’s trip to Belfast.
Ruth checked her watch. ‘We’d better head back to base if I’m going to get Ella on time.’
‘Are you on Koyuki duty tonight as well?’ Lucy asked sardonically as she got into the car.
‘No. If I’m honest, that’s not really going very well at the moment. Shiori gave me my flat keys back and stormed out the other night,’ Ruth explained as she started the car.
‘Oh dear. What did you do?’
Ruth pulled out into waiting traffic. ‘I refused to bath, feed and babysit her child again.’
‘Good for you. You’re a single parent and a full-time copper. You don’t need someone taking the piss, do you?’
Ruth shook her head. ‘It’s a bit of a relief if I’m honest. Me and Ella haven’t had any time to ourselves since Dan left. Which brings me to my other news. Dan announced the other night that he’s moving to Australia with Angela.’
For a few seconds, Lucy said nothing. Ruth could sense that she wasn’t listening.
Oh well, that’s charming.
Instead, Lucy was focussed intently on something else going on outside the car.
‘Everything all right?’ Ruth asked as she edged forward in the traffic.
Lucy pointed to a large black Jaguar that was parked about a hundred yards ahead of them in a layby with its hazard lights flashing. ‘Not really.’
Ruth looked at the stationary car and couldn’t see anything remotely wrong. Then she glanced at the pavement and her jaw dropped. Charlie, dressed in a navy pinstripe suit, was striding over to the car with an attractive woman. Opening the back door to the Jaguar, the woman got in and Charlie followed. He clearly had a chauffeur.
Ruth’s eyes widened. ‘Bloody hell!’
‘Well, he’s not in bloody Belfast, is he?’ Lucy growled.
Ruth shook her head. ‘Cheeky bastard.’
‘And that’s not his wife.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘While I was digging around, I saw some photos of Charlie and his wife in the papers. She’s a mousy little thing,’ Lucy said. ‘Why’s he avoiding us?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Until now, Charlie has been acting as if he’s devastated that we’ve found Alfie’s
body and he’ll do anything to help with the investigation,’ Lucy said. ‘What’s changed?’
‘Maybe he knows that we’ve been digging around in his past?’ Ruth suggested.
‘How would he know that?’
‘Walsh? Although that doesn’t seem likely,’ Ruth said.
They watched as the Jaguar indicated and pulled out into the traffic three cars ahead of them.
Ruth glanced over at Lucy. ‘Follow him?’
Lucy nodded. ‘Definitely.’
Within five minutes, they were driving across Waterloo Bridge. The Thames was cluttered with river cruisers and smaller boats making the most of the beautiful summer’s day. Ruth glanced left and spotted Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament in the distance.
‘Do we think Charlie had something to do with Alfie’s murder?’ Lucy asked as they passed Somerset House and then turned left along the Strand. They were heading towards Trafalgar Square and the centre of London.
Ruth pursed her lips. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so. He seemed genuinely upset when we broke the news to him, didn’t he?’
‘Yeah, he was crushed.’
‘That would be very hard to fake if you knew your brother was buried there all along.’
‘But if Alfie was murdered because of something Charlie had done, then he wouldn’t have known,’ Lucy said. ‘And he would therefore be truly upset when we told him he had been found.’
‘I think we need to know more about what Charlie was up to around the time of Alfie’s disappearance,’ Ruth said as they left Trafalgar Square. ‘My money is still on Terry Droy and Eddie Bannerman.’
Ruth slowed down as they began to weave through the back streets of Soho. ‘Alfie Wise gets into a fight with three blokes. He kills Frank Weller. We know that Droy and Bannerman were looking for him. Two weeks after the murder, Alfie disappears off the face of the earth. There’s no way that can be a coincidence.’
‘I don’t like coincidences either,’ Lucy said. ‘But Alfie was working for Charlie. And they were mixed up with some very nasty thugs.’
Looking up, Ruth could see that they had turned into New Bond Street. They were now in the heart of Mayfair, one of London’s most affluent and exclusive areas.
Lucy peered out at the large white Georgian buildings and designer shops. ‘Bloody hell. Now I know why Mayfair is £500 in Monopoly.’
Ruth laughed. ‘It’s a long way from the Old Kent Road. Although I do always enjoy buying the Old Kent Road and Whitechapel Road and whacking a cheap hotel on them both.’
Lucy raised an eyebrow. ‘Which makes you an exploitative slum landlord.’
Ruth smiled and then saw that the Jaguar had pulled up outside a shop called Cavendish Travel, which had a sign promising Bespoke Global Travel Packages.
Ruth pulled over on the opposite side of the road, and watched as Charlie got out of the car and went into the shop. About a minute later he came out holding a folder and some documents, got back into the car and pulled away.
‘Looks like Charlie is taking a trip,’ Lucy said.
Indicating left, Ruth attempted to pull out from where she was parked. However, a dustcart lorry pulled alongside them.
‘Shit!’ Ruth thundered.
Lucy groaned. ‘Get out of the bloody way!’
Jumping from the car, Lucy waved her warrant card and gestured for the refuse lorry to move out of the way. There were nods and gestures from the refuse collectors.
Come on! Come on!
Any longer and Charlie’s Jaguar would be lost in the maze of roads in Mayfair.
After another minute, the lorry pulled forward.
Ruth groaned. ‘Too late, you idiot.’
Lucy gestured over to Cavendish Travel. ‘Fancy finding out where he’s going now we’ve lost him?’
Ruth shrugged. ‘Might as well.’
They got out of the car, crossed the road, and entered the boutique travel shop. It smelled of new carpets and expensive perfume.
A woman in her 30s, dressed in a designer suit, gave them a quizzical look as she approached.
Clearly we don’t look like her usual clientele, Ruth thought. What a snob!
Ruth got out her warrant card. ‘DC Hunter and DC Henry, CID.’
The woman pulled a face. ‘Oh gosh. Can I help you with something?’
‘A man just came in here and picked up some travel documents,’ Ruth said.
The woman looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m not sure that I can discuss that with you.’
‘We’d like to know where he is travelling to and when,’ Lucy said, ignoring her.
‘As I said, it’s not something I could discuss with you.’
Lucy raised an eyebrow as she looked at Ruth and then back at the woman. ‘Look, you’re a travel agent. Not a doctor or a solicitor. You don’t have a legal right to keep client confidentiality. Sir Charles Wise came in here a minute ago and picked up some documents. We need to know where he is travelling to and when.’
The woman bristled at Lucy’s no-nonsense tone. ‘And as I’ve explained very clearly to you, I couldn’t possibly release that kind of information.’
Ruth gave her a forced smile. ‘We’re investigating a murder. So, we are going to need that information right now.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I will have to ring the owner before I do anything.’
Lucy let out a sigh of exasperation, which Ruth knew meant that she was about to get seriously pissed off.
‘I’m going to make this really easy for you ...’ Lucy leant forward to read her name badge. ‘... Felicity. Either you give us the information right now or we can go away, contact a magistrate and get a Section 18 Search Warrant. When I come back with that warrant, I’m going to make sure that my team of officers take every computer and every file in this shop back to Peckham. We’re going to take a good week, or longer if I feel like it, looking through all that while you try to keep this shop up and running with nothing in it. I’ll also let the owner of Cavendish Travel know that this has all happened because of your lack of co-operation.’
Ruth looked at Felicity. ‘Yeah, she will. I’ve seen her do it before. And it’s never pretty.’
Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘Or you can just tell us what we need to know.’
‘This is utterly ridiculous.’ Felicity was completely flustered. ‘Sir Charles is travelling to Malaga in Spain in a few days’ time.’
‘On his own?’ Lucy asked.
Felicity shook her head. ‘No, with a business associate of his. Leslie Harlow.’
The woman he was in the car with, who is probably his mistress, Ruth thought.
Lucy smiled. ‘Thank you, Felicity. You’ve been incredibly helpful.’
CHAPTER 15
It was early evening, and Lucy had offered to cook for Ruth and Ella. Lucy hadn’t seen Ella for a few weeks and it was always lovely to have her over. She hadn’t ever mentioned it, but watching Ella toddle around the garden and play made her broody.
Bringing over a glass of wine, Lucy handed it to Ruth and slumped down on the armchair next to her. ‘Right, pasta is on. I know Ella’s a bit fussy so she can have cheesy pasta. I’m trying a new recipe for us.’
‘Which is?’
Lucy’s mouth curved into a smile as she walked over to the open cookbook and read, ‘Pan fried cod, with roasted vegetables on a bed of couscous.’
Ruth nearly choked on her wine as she laughed. ‘Oh my god, did you actually just say bed of couscous?’
Lucy grinned. ‘That’s what it says in the book!’
‘Bloody hell. Last time I came here I got beans on toast.’
‘I’m trying to improve myself.’
‘Well be careful,’ Ruth laughed. ‘You’ll start calling dinner supper and then it’ll be downhill from there.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘I spotted you watching Ella earlier. You’d make a good mum, you know that?’
‘Except for the swearing, the drinking and the excessively dangerous job, I’d be perfect,’ Lucy said sardonically. She felt uncomfortable talking about the subject, but she didn’t know why.
‘Hey, that’s the same as me and I’ve got Ella.’
‘Yeah and I don’t know how you do it all.’
‘Not for you then, motherhood?’ Ruth asked.
Lucy took a few seconds to answer, even though she knew that deep down she was dying to have a child. ‘No, it’s not that.’
‘Sorry, it’s not even my business.’
‘Don’t be daft. I tell you everything. It’s just me and Harry ...’
Ruth looked at her quizzically. ‘You and Harry haven’t had a conversation about kids yet?’
‘That’s about the long and short of it.’
‘But you do want kids?’
‘Definitely.’ Lucy surprised herself with the certainty of her answer.
Ruth sipped from her wine. ‘But ... Harry doesn’t?’
Lucy pulled a face. ‘Not sure. I think he does, but we never seem to get the time to sit down and actually talk about it properly.’
Ruth gazed over at her. ‘Are you scared that Harry is going to say he doesn’t want kids and that will throw a whopping great big spanner in the works?’
Lucy smiled and bit her lip. ‘Ooh, you can read me like a book, you sod. You should be a detective or something.’
Ruth laughed. ‘Give it time. You’re not even thirty yet.’
‘I know, but Harry’s kicking on a bit. I don’t want his swimmers getting old, knackered and not able to do their job.’
Ruth almost choked again as she swallowed her wine. ‘Lucy! Swimmers? Jesus! Where do you get this stuff from?’
‘God knows. But you get my point?’
‘Yeah, I definitely got the point you made so graphically. I wouldn’t worry. I read an article the other day that said men could father children in their 60s and even their 70s.’
Lucy grimaced. ‘Yeah well fathering a child when you’re seventy is plain wrong.’
Instead of laughing, Ruth looked panicked as she put her wine down, jumped up from the sofa and sprinted into the garden.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lucy asked as she got up and ran outside with her.
Ruth had picked up Ella in her arms, and the blood had drained from her face. ‘Someone was in your garden. They went down there.’ She pointed to the passageway at the side of the house.
Without hesitating, Lucy took off at a sprint.
There was the clattering noise of a gate being opened forcefully.
As she thundered into the side passage, a figure in a black t-shirt, grey Adidas trousers and a black baseball cap, was already through the gate and heading for the road.
Bastard! How dare he come into my garden in broad daylight.
‘Stop! Police!’ Lucy bellowed as she raced left down the hill.
The figure turned left to where Lucy knew there were some old garages.
Lucy followed, sprinting down the rickety, overgrown driveway.
The figure climbed nimbly up onto one of the garage roofs.
Lucy already had it in her head that she was probably chasing a teenage boy who might have been trying to fund a drug habit, or just looking to snatch a handbag, or cash, and run.
As she reached the garage and began to climb, she saw the figure had a dark brown ponytail. It was a girl or a woman. She wasn’t expecting that!
‘Stop, police!’ she yelled, but the girl had already headed to the other side of the garage roof and disappeared out of sight.
‘Shit!’ Lucy growled. She had no choice but to follow. Her heart was already thudding.
She jumped and pulled herself up the side of the garage. At first, she thought she wouldn’t make it. It had been a long time since she’d pulled up her own bodyweight with just her arms. She shook with the sheer effort.
Bloody hell! This reminds of doing PE at school. I hated PE!
She clambered onto the garage roof, grazing the skin from the palms of her hands on the rough asphalt. It stung, but she had no time to think about it.
Lucy went to the other side of the roof. Below was an open area of grass and the local children’s playground. There were two young boys on a swing being pushed by their mother.
The escapee dashed across the playground, through an opening in a brick wall, and disappeared down Channing Street.
Lucy hesitated. It was high enough for her to break her bloody neck.
Bollocks, she thought as she leapt, hit the concrete and felt a pain shoot up the outside of her knee.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ she said out loud, much to the annoyance of the mum by the swings.
Sprinting flat out, Lucy gritted her teeth and turned to follow the girl. Her knee was throbbing. Then she had a thought as she got out onto Channing Street. What if that’s not a teenage girl looking for drug money? What if it’s Harry’s ex, Karen? Didn’t he say she ran marathons or triathlons? If it is her, I’m going to kill her!
As Lucy turned, she saw the girl, or whoever it actually was, nearly a hundred yards away. If it was Karen, then Lucy was determined to catch her and arrest her for trespass. That would teach the bitch.
How dare she come into my garden!
With anger now raging, she broke into a full sprint, pumping her fists as she wen
t. She’d managed to run off the pain in her knee. To her left, the lurid orange of the local Kebabs, Pizzas & Burgers shop. On the right, the bright green of a bookmakers. That said it all. Two mums pushing prams gave her a curious look as she pounded past them.
The figure went left into Duke’s Road and out of sight.
As she slowed for a second, her phone rang in her pocket. It was Ruth.
‘Hello?’ Lucy gasped into her phone.
‘Where the bloody hell are you?’ Ruth sounded concerned.
Lucy glanced around. ‘Erm, on the corner of Duke’s Road.’
‘That doesn’t help me! What are you doing?’ Ruth asked, getting frustrated.
‘I think it was Karen,’ Lucy said, now aware that her feet were numb and the sweat was running down her back and dropping from her forehead.
‘Harry’s ex?’
‘Yeah. It could have been,’ Lucy panted as she wiped her forehead on her t-shirt sleeve and glanced down the street.
The figure had gone.
Lucy was feeling dizzy as she jogged up Prince’s Road, and shook her head to try and stabilise herself.
‘Bloody hell, Luce. What if it’s not? What if it’s some psycho crackhead with a knife?’
‘I’m pretty sure it’s not. They seem pretty fit as psycho crackheads go!’
‘Get yourself back here now.’
‘Right, I will do. See you in a minute,’ Lucy said as she ended the call.
I’ll just have a quick check around though.
Between houses were abandoned garages, alleyways, flat pieces of concrete peppered with weeds. It was quiet except for the distant noise of children playing. There were various side streets all the way up Duke’s Road. It was basically a maze from here on and the fugitive could have gone anywhere.
A noise came from the side of an old boarded-up house. Slowing down cautiously, Lucy jogged across the weeds to take a look.
Then a clatter. Metallic, maybe.
Lucy moved slowly and put her back against the wall. The brickwork felt rough through her sweaty shirt.
Another click. What the bloody hell was happening? Was that a weapon?
Lucy took a slow, quiet breath as her pulse thudded in her eardrum. She didn’t want to peer down the side of the house only to get a blade shoved into her throat. The noise stopped.
The Razor Gang Murder Page 9