He looked down at the file in front of him and hesitated before opening it. It was labelled Arthur William Gaughran – Police Service Record – 1954-1989. Taking a breath, he opened it and flicked through to find the date when his father had moved from being a uniformed ‘bobby on the beat’ in Peckham, to joining the South London Murder Squad as a young DC.
After a few seconds, he saw what he had feared he would see. His father became a DC at the beginning of 1956. Gaughran knew from a couple of passing conversations that his dad had told Ruth and Lucy that he was still in uniform when Alfie Wise had gone missing. Why had he lied? He could only conclude that it was because he was involved.
With his brain whirring, Gaughran looked down at the photo of his father that Michael Fisher had given. He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t believe it was actually happening.
Getting up from his desk, he took the photo and made his way out of the main CID area. A few seconds later, he arrived at Brooks’ office and knocked on the open door. Brooks, who was in the middle of a mountain of paperwork, looked up at him.
‘Tim?’ he said, making it clear that he was eager to get back to his work.
Gaughran could feel that his palms were sweaty and his pulse was thudding. He took a deep breath. ‘Can I have a word, guv?’
Brooks sat back in his seat. ‘Fire away. Anything to distract me from doing all this.’
Gaughran hesitated and then said, ‘It’s a bit ... sensitive.’
Brooks’ expression changed as he gestured to the door. ‘Come in and sit down ... What’s going on?’
That’s what Gaughran admired about Brooks. He didn’t suffer fools, but he looked after his officers like they were part of his family. And Gaughran knew that, in the past, some of his immature and inflammatory behaviour had annoyed Brooks.
He showed the photo to Brooks. ‘This is the photo we took from Michael Fisher.’ He then pointed to the two figures in the background. ‘And these are the two officers that he alleges were taking bribes and were somehow involved in the attack on Declan Fisher, and Alfie Wise’s murder.’
‘That’s great.’ Brooks nodded. ‘So these are the officers that Charlie Wise also told us about?’
‘The officer sitting here is, or was, Clive Rigby,’ Gaughran said. ‘He died about ten years ago.’
‘How do you know that?’ he asked.
Gaughran moved the photograph closer for Brooks to look at. ‘Because this officer here is my dad, and Rigby was his partner in CID.’
‘What?’ Brooks’ eyes widened. ‘That’s your dad? Are you sure?’
Gaughran nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m sure.’
Brooks feigned shock. ‘When did you know your dad might be involved in all this, Tim?’
Gaughran lowered his head as he spoke. ‘Not until I saw this photo this morning. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear, guv.’
‘So, your dad came in the other day to see if he could move our investigation in a different direction?’
‘Unfortunately, that’s what it looks like.’
‘Do you think he’s capable of something like murdering Alfie Wise?’
Gaughran shook his head. ‘Hand on heart, guv, no. Not a cold-blooded murder like that. Shot to the head and buried. As for taking a few quid to look the other way, or even giving a little scrote like Declan Fisher a kicking, maybe. I really hope not, but I don’t know.’
‘We’ve got to bring him in, Tim,’ Brooks said remorsefully.
‘I know. I realise it’s not appropriate, but let me go and talk to him. And then I’ll bring him in.’
Brooks pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed. ‘If he ‘magically’ disappears, then we’ll both lose our jobs, you do know that?’
Gaughran smoothed his hand over his face. ‘I haven’t worked this hard to throw my career as a copper away, guv. If my old man has committed a crime, he needs to face justice just like anyone else. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I do want to have the chance to talk to him and bring him in myself.’
Brooks glanced down at his watch. ‘I’ll give you until first thing tomorrow to sort it, Tim.’
Gaughran stared vacantly at Brooks. He just couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. It felt surreal. ‘Thanks, guv. I know you’re sticking your neck out here.’
‘Just bring him in.’
As he got up from his chair, Gaughran realised that he now faced the most difficult few hours of his life. ‘See you tomorrow, guv,’ he said quietly, fighting the tremor in his voice.
Brooks looked at him. ‘Tim?’
‘Yes, guv.’
‘I’m sorry this has happened. But you’re a good copper, so don’t do anything to jeopardise that.’
CHAPTER 31
Lucy and Ruth were waiting in the ICU area of the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital on the Fulham Road. Keane had been rushed in by ambulance and was still unconscious when he arrived.
Ruth ended her radio call and cast a glance at Lucy. ‘Right, we’ve got a firearms officer arriving to guard Keane while he’s here.
A nurse approached and handed them a clear plastic bag containing Keane’s personal belongings. ‘Can you sign for these, please?’
Ruth watched as Lucy scribbled her name on the appropriate form and asked, ‘Any idea how he is?’
The nurse appeared irritated. ‘He’s badly injured but you’ll have to talk to the doctor if you need any more information.’
She’s a bit spiky, Ruth thought to herself.
As the nurse walked away, Ruth delved into the bag, pulling out a wallet and a Motorola mobile phone. ‘I wonder if the tech boys can get anything off this?’
‘What about the wallet?’ Lucy asked.
As she opened it, Ruth saw that there was a large wad of money tucked inside. There were also half a dozen credit cards and bank cards. She pulled one out and read it, ‘Mr D O’Connell.’
A look of confusion crossed Lucy’s face. ‘What?’
Ruth held up another card and read out, ‘Damian P O’Connell.’ And then another card, with the same name – Damian P O’Connell.
Pulling out some receipts, she noticed that several of them were purchases of food from shops, and an Italian restaurant in Portrush. ‘Where’s Portrush? It’s got a postcode BT56?’
‘Northern Ireland, isn’t it? I think it’s on the coast,’ Lucy replied as she then clicked her radio, ‘Alpha zero to Control. I need a full PNC check on a Damian P O’Connell. Home address might be Portrush, Northern Ireland, over.’
‘Control from alpha zero, received. Stand by.’
Ruth spotted a figure arriving at the nurses’ station. It was Brooks. She couldn’t help but think about what Lucy had told her about Karen and her injuries. She just couldn’t see Brooks doing that to his ex-wife. But the job had also taught her that in a moment of utter fury, seemingly sane, ordinary people do horrible things to each other.
As Lucy moved away and took notes from the PNC check, Brooks approached.
‘How is our Mr Keane?’ he asked.
‘Still waiting for the doctor to come and talk to us,’ Ruth explained. ‘It doesn’t sound good though.’
Brooks looked at her. ‘But you two are okay?’
‘I think Lucy might have a cracked rib but essentially we’re okay. And it appears that our Mr Keane might well be a Damian O’Connell from Portrush in Northern Ireland.’
‘He’s a long way from home.’ Brooks nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s sounding more and more like Trevor Walsh’s murder was a paid hit.’
‘I agree, but who wanted him dead enough to hire someone to do it?’ Ruth added.
Lucy approached and looked down at her notepad. Ruth noticed she didn’t make eye contact with Brooks. ‘I’ve got the PNC check on a Damian Peter O’Connell. Lives in Portrush. Date of birth is 3rd July 1956.’
‘Sounds about right in terms of age,’ Ruth said.
‘He’s got form,’ Lucy continued. ‘String of offences dating back to 1970. Assault,
GBH, possession of a firearm, extortion. There are notes to say that it’s likely he was affiliated to the Ulster Volunteer Force from the late 70s onwards.
‘Sounds like a lovely bloke,’ Brooks said, raising his eyebrow. ‘What the hell was a man like that doing at the Kensington Place Hotel?’
Ruth watched as a young doctor approached them. He looked concerned. ‘Hi there. Are you the police officers that came in with Daniel Keane?’
This doesn’t look good, Ruth thought to herself.
‘Yes. Any idea when we might be able to talk to him?’ Lucy asked.
‘I’m afraid Daniel didn’t make it. I’m sorry. We did everything we could.’
GAUGHRAN PULLED UP outside his parents’ home and noticed that his father’s car wasn’t on the drive. Part of him was relieved. There was a ball of knotted nerves in his stomach and his breathing was shallow. He wondered where his father was. Playing golf, most likely. Despite walking with a stick, he managed two or three rounds of golf a week at the Dulwich and Sydenham Hill Golf Club.
As Gaughran got out of the car, he could see that the beautiful blue sky was scarred by a band of darkening clouds to the south. His parents lived in a four-bedroom detached house in the affluent part of Peckham, close to the park and on the border with East Dulwich. He wondered if he was about to ruin everything his parents had ever worked for. He didn’t have a choice. He knew that CID officers were closing in on the two bent coppers who had taken bribes from the 211 Club. Hassan had seen the photograph that Michael Fisher had given them, and it wouldn’t have been long before someone at Peckham nick recognised him. Combined with his father’s lies about his service record, Gaughran knew he’d had no choice but to talk to Brooks. It didn’t make him a grass. The game was already up. He just didn’t know the extent of the crimes that his father had committed forty years earlier.
Walking up the pathway, Gaughran thought about how many times he had ambled up to the house before. They had moved here in the early 80s when he was about twelve. The times he had come home drunk in the early hours, forgotten his keys, and thrown stones up at his parents’ window. His dad would come down, roll his eyes and let him in. Sometimes, he would sit with his dad and have a whiskey and a chat before heading up to bed.
Since seeing the photograph, and his father’s service records, Gaughran had started to question everything about his family. How did they afford to live in a large, detached house? His mum had never worked. His dad had told her it was far more important that she was there for Gaughran and his brother Steve. There were holidays to Spain or Portugal every year and nice cars. Gaughran knew his dad had been on the relatively decent salary of a DI by the time he took retirement, but were the house, holidays and cars a sign of something darker?
He tried to compose himself as he knocked on the door. He didn’t want to alarm his mum, Celia. She worried about everything at the best of times.
The front door opened, and she looked out at him and smiled. ‘Bloody hell, what you doing here?’
He forced a smile and gave her a hug and kiss. ‘That’s nice, Mum.’
Her face was filled with concern. ‘Why aren’t you working? What’s wrong?’
Gaughran followed her in. ‘Nothing Mum. Nothing’s wrong. I just had a bit of time off and I wanted to talk to dad about this case I’m working on.’
As he followed her into the spotless kitchen, Gaughran felt a sense of calm and security. There were photos of the four of them on various holidays in frames on the walls, along with a photo of Steve on his wedding day.
Celia went over to the kettle and clicked it on. ‘You’ll stay for a cuppa, won’t you?’
Gaughran nodded. It wasn’t a question. ‘Where’s Dad then?’
‘He’s up the golf club with your Uncle Les. Might as well live up at that bloody place,’ his mum groaned.
‘Better than having him under your feet here all day.’
Celia laughed. ‘You’re right there. Messy bugger.’ Celia looked at him and frowned. ‘You all right? You look a bit peaky. Do you want something to eat? I can make you a sandwich if you like.’
Gaughran forced a smile and shook his head. ‘It’s all right, Mum. I’m fine, honest.’
‘When are you gonna bring that Michelle round here for us to meet?’ she asked with an indignant look. ‘Anyone would think you were ashamed of us.’
Gaughran sighed. ‘I told you, Mum. I’m not seeing her anymore.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. She sounded nice. Wasn’t she the one whose dad was a headmaster?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Gaughran looked over at her. He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. ‘Mum, you know when we were kids?’
Celia looked over at him as she made two mugs of tea. ‘Eh? What about when you were kids?’
‘You know this house, the holidays, season tickets at Chelsea, new cars. Did you ever wonder where all the money came from?’ Gaughran asked.
‘What are you talking about? Your dad worked round the clock. And in those days he got bloody good money for doing overtime,’ Celia explained. ‘What’s all this about?’
‘Nothing. Don’t worry,’ Gaughran said. He could feel his anxiety rising. ‘Look, I’ve got to go and talk to Dad right now.’
‘I’ve just made you a tea,’ Celia protested.
‘Sorry,’ Gaughran said as he turned and headed for the door. ‘I’ll pop back later. Promise.’
He needed to get this over and done with.
CHAPTER 32
It was evening, and Brooks had followed Lucy back to her house to have a ‘summit’ about the events of the week, Karen’s allegations, and their relationship. They both agreed that it was getting in the way at work and so there needed to be some kind of resolution either way.
Pulling up outside her house, Lucy looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. Bloody hell, I look tired! She remembered a phrase that her father used to say – You’ve got more luggage under there than Heathrow airport.
She climbed out, closed the car door and sighed. What she really needed was a stiff drink, a hot bath, and an early night. Watching Brooks park his car nearby, she stood and waited for him by the path leading up to her front door. For a few seconds, she gazed at him as he walked towards her. She still fancied the pants off him, but that wasn’t going to be enough if they couldn’t resolve all the other stuff.
Taking off his jacket, Brooks looked at her. ‘I’ve no idea why I’m wearing this jacket.’ She could see he was nervous and for a moment he looked like a lost little boy.
‘Come on then. We can sit out on the patio,’ Lucy said, but as she turned to walk up the path, she noticed that something wasn’t quite right.
The gate to the side entrance was open by about a foot.
‘You all right, Luce? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’
‘The side gate is open.’
‘Sure you shut it properly?’ he asked.
‘Don’t be a twat, Harry. After what I’ve been through this week I’ve checked it every day. There are two bolts on the inside.’
Brooks marched up the path determinedly. ‘Stay there.’
‘Sod that! I’m coming with you,’ Lucy snapped – she was a DC and didn’t need to be patronised, thank you very much.
They went cautiously through the open gate and down the dark, cool passageway at the side of the house.
Moving slowly towards the back garden, Lucy couldn’t hear anything. If she was going to make a guess, then she thought that Karen might have something to do with the gate being open.
Lucy and Brooks came out onto the patio at the rear of the house.
There was someone sitting in one of the garden chairs, wrapped in a blanket, facing them.
It was Karen.
Lucy shot Brooks a look – Are you kidding me?
‘Karen, what the hell are you doing?’ Brooks asked.
Lucy was immediately on her guard. Karen’s behaviour had been strange and erratic enough to warrant extreme cauti
on. She was half-expecting her to bring out a knife and go for them both.
Karen gave a strange smile. She looked tired, grey, and very unwell. ‘I’ve come to talk to the both of you. I need to apologise for everything.’
Her voice was slurred, and Lucy assumed she was drunk. As she tried to stand up, they could see that she was very unsteady on her feet. ‘Lucy, if you knew Harry as well as I do, then you’d know that he would never hit a woman. He’s a gentle giant, aren’t you, Harry? He wouldn’t harm a fly ...’
As Karen tried to maintain her balance, the blanket fell from her and onto the ground.
Lucy gasped as she saw that below her waist Karen was completely soaked in blood. There was a deep gash on either wrist.
Oh my God. She’s bleeding to death!
Brooks rushed over to her as she fell back down on the chair. ‘Jesus Christ, Karen. What have you done?’
‘I’m so sorry ...’ Karen burbled as she wept. ‘I’m so, so sorry ...’
Lucy pulled out her phone and dialled 999. ‘Ambulance please. As quickly as possible.’
THE SKY WAS A GUNMETAL grey by the time Gaughran pulled into the car park at the golf club. As the first drops of rain fell, he looked around for his father’s BMW. He spotted his Uncle Les’ black Mercedes at the far end, so he was definitely somewhere out on the course.
After a quick look around the clubhouse bar and restaurant, Gaughran tried to ring both their mobile phones. He wasn’t surprised to find that they were switched off. He knew they took their golf seriously, and the joy of the game was to get away from everything and find a bit of peace and quiet.
The Razor Gang Murder Page 17