Dead Unlucky

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Dead Unlucky Page 30

by Andrew Derham


  It was only five minutes later that Clive Emmer’s sleek Jaguar pulled up alongside the car of his former business associate. Hart watched them get out of their vehicles and climb the wooden steps to the door of the office without a word to each other. The photographer continued clicking as the door was unlocked and the men went inside. They kept the office light off but a streak of white ran out down the steps a few seconds later as the fluorescent tubes of the windowless warehouse were switched on. As Danny Moses reappeared with a package which he loaded into his boot, Hart simply watched as the photographer clicked away.

  After the third of Danny’s little parcels had been nestled into his car, Hart, Rosie and the constable quickly slipped out of the van and ran to the warehouse steps, joined by a small posse who had been waiting in the van round the corner. When Danny next emerged, carrying another package in the form of a black powder wrapped in clear plastic, he found half a dozen policemen and a dog waiting to welcome him.

  ‘Hello, Danny. You’re up early again.’

  Moses did his best to look unsurprised. ‘Just helping the old fella in there shift a few things. He gives me a bit of pocket money for my trouble and makes me feel I’m doing something to earn my keep. Not such a liability to the public then, am I?’ he suggested nobly.

  ‘What’s that you’re holding?’

  ‘No idea. Best not to ask questions if you think you might not like the answers,’ came the reasonable reply. ‘I’m just paid to do the donkey work. I expect the guy in there would know.’

  ‘You might like to have a word with a solicitor before you choose that as a line of defence. Where are you taking it?’

  ‘Don’t know that either. He hasn’t told me yet.’

  ‘I reckon the sad truth is that you’re standing there with your fingers wrapped around a couple of kilos of cocaine.’

  A little of Moses’ old arrogance returned. ‘Don’t be completely stupid. If I was, your mutt would be going bonkers by now. And even a copper should know coke’s white. That’s why it’s called snow,’ came the lesson in street talk. Moses enjoyed himself by putting his stubbled face in Hart’s own as he delivered his address. But the pleasure was as fleeting as it was final – he was conducting a rearguard action at the climax of an overwhelming defeat, and he knew it.

  ‘Rosie’s not interested because it’s got all sorts of muck in there to put her off. Charcoal for sure. A few iron filings thrown in to complete the mix, perhaps? I reckon she’ll be fascinated by what’s in the boot though, because even a copper knows what those leaves are.’ Hart nodded to the handler and Rosie clambered into the boot, her black nose twitching with controlled excitement. Then she simply sat down. Had she been human, there would have been a proud and satisfied smile painted on her lovely face. ‘I think the year’s started pretty well for her, she’ll be enjoying a few treats this morning. Take her into the warehouse please, Constable. It’s always a pleasure to see such lovely animals having fun.’

  As Rosie trotted up the steps to continue her work, an irate man emerged from the opposite direction. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on out here?’

  ‘Morning, Mr Emmer,’ greeted Hart. ‘I’m pleased you’ve come to join us.’

  It might have been expected that Clive Emmer’s features would have proclaimed the clearest surprise out of all the faces of the little band assembled outside his office on that dark winter’s morning, but Danny Moses stood utterly transfixed with astonishment. When he did eventually speak, it was to confirm that his ears had not been telling him fibs.

  ‘Emmer? Your name’s Emmer? Don’t tell me you’re Seb Emmer’s old man? In all our years of doing business, I never made the connection.’ Danny Moses shook his head with the wonder of it all. ‘I never told Seb or another living soul where I got my stuff from. That was my number one rule.’

  ‘And the police told me Sebastian fell into using drugs at The Temple. That’s your territory, so it must be you who sold this stuff to my son. So now you know why I wanted nothing more to do with you, why I wanted your goods out of here, you filthy little piece of scum. How could you? How could you sink so low?’

  ‘Where do you think all these plants and powders go after you’ve loaded them out of the docks and into your crummy little outhouse here? This junk goes on the street, that’s where it goes. Down the throats, up the noses and into the veins of all the kids stupid enough to pay the extortionate prices we charge them for all this muck. But you knew that, so don’t try coming on all weepy with that sentimental crap about flogging it to your dear little boy. You don’t mind other blokes’ kids killing themselves with it, but not your precious little Seb.’

  Clive Emmer took a step forward, raised his fist and aimed a punch. But he wasn’t built for fighting, not physically, not mentally, and a constable easily prevented his shot reaching its destination. Moses didn’t even dignify this effort by aiming a blow himself, he just looked the man up and down as he carried on his sermon. ‘And Seb supplied to half the schoolkids in North London so I don’t suppose many people will be wasting tears on him. He was a pusher, no better than that. Just like me. Just like his old man.’

  Hart found himself in the surprising position of agreeing with everything Danny Moses had said, but it was time to call a halt. He cautioned them both and they calmly accepted the restraints of the handcuffs; surrounded by the enemy, there was nowhere to run.

  ‘You’ve got to laugh, though,’ continued Danny, a sneer playing on his lips. ‘Seb was snorting the very coke his own old fella had brought off the boat.’

  There was no clever answer to that. As he was being led to the Black Maria, Clive Emmer simply asked Hart, ‘How did you know we would be here?’

  Moses was keen to reply. ‘That’s obvious, you stupid old git. That stupid bitch of a secretary of yours shot her great big mouth off.’

  ‘I told you she was next door. Why did you have to shout? If you hadn’t been such a fool, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

  ‘You calling me a fool, that’s a laugh. I suppose you thought you were Mastermind, hiding dope in a few mangy carpets from Timbuk-somewhere-or-other and some grotty old tables …’

  Hart was glad he’d be returning to the station after this pair had got there, in the van with the dog for company.

  *****

  The clock had ticked past mid-morning by the time Hart finally arrived back at his office and got the kettle boiling. He forced himself to finish two quick jobs before he went home to grab a couple of hours’ sleep.

  The chemistry boffs weren’t working today, so he wrote a note detailing exactly what he wanted them to do – check those fibres again, the ones that were found on the clothing Nicola Brown had been wearing when she died. But this time Hart gave them precise instructions on what to look for. He would stick the message through the lab’s letter box on the way home.

  Then he picked up his telephone receiver and punched in the number on the business card he held before his eyes. Ibrahim Massaoud answered his mobile immediately. ‘Mr Hart, a happy New Year to you. Perhaps you have some good news for me regarding your investigation.’

  ‘Sadly not. But you’re right to suppose that I am ringing about the case. I was hoping to come down and speak to Hiba at some time during the next couple of days.’

  ‘I know I did say that Hiba would help if she could, but that would depend upon the nature of your intended conversation,’ replied the diplomat warily. ‘Is it important?’

  ‘I would just like to ask her two quick questions, but, yes, they are important. In fact, they’re absolutely crucial.’

  ‘Would you mind advising me why that is so?’

  ‘I believe the answer to the first will tell me why Nicola was killed. The second is likely to tell me who killed her.’

  44

  ‘You see, Arthur, what tremendous willpower I possess,’ boasted Hart as he sat with his friend in The Pickled Firkin to enjoy a lunch time tipple on New Year’s Day. ‘My resolution was to drink more be
er this year, a beverage replete with the full range of B vitamins. We’re only a few hours into 2013 and I’m already suckling a pint of Spitfire to my lips to honour the pledge I made with myself.’

  ‘A most remarkable achievement, of which you should indeed be proud,’ praised Arthur Rhodes as they bumped their glasses together. ‘And you deserve a bit of pleasure, since you’ve been out and about locking up half the county over the past few days.’

  Hart’s mood suddenly darkened. ‘I’ve only been clearing away the rats, Arthur, and it turns out there were more of them crawling around in the sewers of this case than I thought. I don’t like people who make a living pushing drugs. I don’t like headteachers who cover up their kids’ murders. And I don’t like people who try and kill me. The world’s better off with them inside and I’m happy to have put them there. And if the other half of this county are tucking similar ideas into their heads then I’ll stick them away, too. The lot of them.’

  Hart smiled. ‘Sorry to inflict a sermon on you Arthur, I’m just a bit bruised by Patricia Luft leading me on like that. That’s it with women from now on. I was a bit of a conceited dimwit to think she would be interested in me at all. Mind you, I couldn’t have known she’d try and bump me off.’

  ‘No need to worry about being taken for a ride, old boy; she had us all fooled. Even that renowned expert in matters feminine, Darren Redpath, was saying you’d be mad to pass over a chance like her. Then there was the Chief and that flashy dinner he invited both of you to a few weeks ago. But the first prize for being a complete bonehead must go to yours truly for singing her praises when you were stuck in hospital right after she had fed you her witch’s potion. There’s me, sitting by your sickbed and saying what a cracking woman she was when it was her who had put you between the sheets. After that calamitous attempt at matchmaking, I realise I should stick to cutting people up, not joining them together.’

  Hart was only half listening as he stared into the withering foam on his pint. ‘I had the best part of twenty-five great years with Maggie. Ever since the day Lynn McCarthy knocked on my front door and told me she had been killed, I’d never looked at another woman, never wanted to. I should have left it at that. No one can replace Maggie and I was foolish to think anyone could. That’s what really irks me, Arthur – Patricia Luft elbowing her way in between Maggie and me.’

  ‘Not all women are like Patricia the Poisoner, so don’t take yourself off the market. Maggie would want you to be happy, just the same as you would want for her if you had died and she’d been left behind. So buck yourself up and get a couple more pints in, they won’t walk over here on their own.’

  After Hart had returned with a pair of full glasses, Rhodes gripped his new pint with a big hand and eyed it disparagingly. ‘They shouldn’t be allowed to sell beer in these tiny little cups. Think of all the waste. You’d halve the barmaid’s time, halve the washing-up, halve the number of trips to the bar, just through the simple device of making the glasses twice as big. Some of the truly great leaps forward in human development are due to such uncomplicated insights.’

  ‘Arthur, if it was the size of a bucket, it still wouldn’t be big enough for you.’

  ‘Talking earlier of our guru who guides us in matters pertaining to passion, Redpath didn’t exactly hit on a winner by turning up at that party last night, did he?’

  ‘You heard about that?’

  ‘Whatever miseries you endured at the hands of Patricia Luft, there has to be some small comfort in knowing that your New Year’s Eve exploits are already the stuff of folklore. They’ll be admired for years to come by generations of coppers.’

  ‘But not emulated, I hope.’

  ‘Well, perhaps they won’t quite make the training manual.’

  ‘There’s no malice in Darren. He wouldn’t have gone to that party if he’d known how I’d been stitched up. He told me the girl he was with hardly knew Patricia Luft, they just bumped into each other occasionally at some badminton matches in the area leagues.’

  ‘And Patricia got wind that she had a copper boyfriend, no doubt.’

  ‘No doubt. When Darren got to her house and found out who had invited them, he just thought one of us had misunderstood when I’d said earlier I was going there to meet her on our own. It’s not like he was dreading me turning up at any minute.’

  ‘And certainly not expecting you to arrest his host.’

  ‘From the look on his face last night, that did come as a bit of a surprise.’ Hart managed a smile. ‘I’d bet a diamond to a pebble he was only invited to rub the proverbial salt into my wounds. Luft will have been bragging to all her mates, and Darren was the messenger who was going to bring the hilarious news into the factory.’

  ‘But you altered the bulletin,’ smiled Rhodes. ‘So who is the lucky lady who is currently receiving the benefit of his manly attention?’

  ‘As I said, there’s no malice in Darren, but sometimes there’s precious little good sense either. He was out with a teacher from Highdean School. Can you believe that? A teacher from the school which has had two pupils murdered. As you can imagine, he’s been grounded from this case,’ noted Hart, deliberately employing a term which showed what a naughty boy his sergeant had been.

  ‘Knowing poor old Darren, I can’t say it’s the most amazing revelation I’ve ever heard. Any closer to collaring the scum who killed the kids yet, though? Without wishing to belittle your achievements so far, old boy, you did start off investigating a murder.’

  ‘Yes and no. I reckon I’m close to knowing who killed Nicola, but there’s still a bit of work to be done to be sure.’ Arthur Rhodes supped at his pint. There was no point in asking the obvious question, because he wouldn’t get an answer. ‘But, out of the seven billion Homo sapiens who inhabit this planet, any one of us could have killed Sebastian Emmer. In the literal sense, I haven’t got a clue. I don’t even know if one person murdered them both.’

  ‘Surely you’ve got something to go on, Harry. What about the golf club? And the footprints? You’re looking for size eleven boots.’

  ‘The club tells us nothing, except that someone swiped it from Ron Brown’s garage, a garage with a broken door, so it was easy to get at. The boots? They’re more the puzzle itself than the clue which will solve it because they could be pointing me in the wrong direction; I can’t be dead sure those footprints belong to the killer, not certain enough to discount someone who’s got different sized feet. What I’d really like to know is, who washed away their prints on the money Sebastian was carrying? And why was his car parked at the end of that alley? If he was on his way to visit the Browns, why didn’t he just stick it outside their house? If not, where was he heading?’

  ‘Maybe he was just off for a stroll in Greenway Park. Perhaps it’s that simple.’

  ‘An eighteen-year-old lad rushing home from school in his sporty wheels, frantic to take a walk in the park? Perhaps he was desperate to get to the swings before the other kids hogged them?’

  ‘You can be cruel to me at times,’ said Rhodes. ‘Another?’ he asked, tipping back his head to catch the last drop.

  ‘One more and then I’m off. I’ll get irritable if I don’t snatch some more sleep.’

  ‘An unknown phenomenon that would be,’ sparred Arthur as he headed to the bar. His rusty hair perched on a hefty frame never had trouble getting spotted so he wasn’t away for long. ‘How do you think the scales of justice will weigh up the villains you’ve managed to snag so far?’ he started as he set the fresh beers down.

  ‘It’s not the villains I’m thinking about, it’s what the generals so charmingly refer to as the collateral damage that get my sympathy. A couple of weeks ago Rebecca Emmer and her mum were looking forward to Christmas with the family. Not a particularly appealing pair of male kin it’s true, but a brother and son, father and husband nevertheless. By next year just the two of them will be living in a pokey flat because their house was bought with drug money and it’ll be sold to pay back the public as
recompense for the crimes inflicted against society. Fair enough, of course, but they don’t deserve that after what they’ve put up with over the years.’

  ‘Yet again the innocent cop the sharp end of the stick, old boy.’

  ‘Annalee Hargreaves will get a fine, maybe a spell of community service or a suspended sentence. That’s not much of a pain of course, it’s the criminal record that will sting. She won’t be welcome in a classroom again.’

  ‘And the drug-dealing duo? How big an operation was that?’

  ‘Can’t say yet. But Clive Emmer must have had some help getting the stuff into the country. He’ll grass them up, it’ll knock a year or two off his sentence. I’d like to have seen Marco Bracken go down with them, though.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The bloke who let Danny Moses deal at his club. Sadly, there’s not a chance of that. If Danny snitches, it’s just the word of a pusher against a guy who can call in a hundred witnesses to say he’s such a nice chap he makes it his serious business to kick peddlers out of his place. He did, too – so Danny could get a free run and hand him some of the profits. Sometimes the snakes manage to slither away.’ Hart finished what he could manage of his beer and then gave a tunnel of a yawn. ‘And that’s what I’m going to do myself. These batteries need recharging. They’ve got a bit of work to get through tomorrow.’

  45

  Like many other young professionals, Simon Chandler was pleased to have had the foresight to place his foot on a rung of the property ladder. And not the bottom one, either – he had obtained a mortgage on a pleasant terraced house in a part of England which was highly sought after, if the prices people were willing to pay were to be believed. The furniture was cheap, admittedly, and if the two bedrooms were joined together they wouldn’t have had enough space to accommodate a rich man’s wardrobe, but he had a place he could call his own where he could sit, eat his meals and read his books, and he felt some pride in his achievements so far.

 

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