The Godfathers of London

by M. C. Dutton

  ‘So, what did you do when he didn’t come back?’ asked Jazz. Alex said he’d got a bit mad and scared. He didn’t want to lose Freddie in the undergrowth. He could hear Freddie ahead barking his head off and he seemed to be stationary by this time. By the time Alex had reached Freddie he was as cross as hell but then he saw what he thought was a dummy – like one of those shop window dummies. When he got closer he saw it was a man’s body, in a terrible state.

  Alex couldn’t go on any further. He started to cry. The sight of a human being in that state was something he would never forget or get over. He managed to say it was about 10 a.m. when he found the body. Jazz thanked him and patted him on the back. A doctor had been called to check him out for shock and give him some medication and then he would be taken home.

  Ash had watched Jazz talking to Alex and was impressed with the way he handled the man so sensitively and cleverly. Jazz was a much better detective than officers at Ilford Police Station had given him credit for. To be quite honest Ash had thought Jazz was a waste of space and someone to steer clear of. His reputation had been shredded and scattered. Not many had a good word to say about him. But now Ash thought he was actually quite a pukka guy, and this was to be the turning point in their working relationship.

  This was Tom Black’s case as DI in the Murder Squad so Jazz went off to find him, dragging Ash with him. Now they worked together and although Ash had wanted this for a long time, he would wonder as the days went by if it was such a good idea. DI Boomer Tom Black was in full throttle. ‘Where the fuck is my team?’ he boomed at some poor officer walking past his office. Jazz approached head on. When Boomer was in full throttle it didn’t do to surprise him. He had been known to floor anyone coming up to him on his blind side. He was a big man with long arms and big fists. No, he didn’t fit the Metropolitan Politically Correct Police either but he got results and in the monthly statistics he was king.

  Just for the moment Jazz wanted to speak to Boomer by himself. Together they concocted things that were not recognized as good working practice and he didn’t want Ash to hear his conversation. ‘Ash, do me a favour?’ he called. ‘Go see Laptop over there and find out if there’s any news from the lab yet.’

  Ash looked puzzled. ‘Laptop?’

  Jazz explained. ‘Laptop is that small P.C. over there: PC Graham; it’s his nickname.’ Against his better judgement Ash smiled and went off to find Laptop.

  When he had gone Jazz asked if he could be involved in the case. Boomer knew why; it had been a very difficult and emotional case. With none of his team around he was glad of the help. They discussed the family and whether it was possible that one of them could have done this. There were no doubts that within the Pringle family John Carpenter was the most hated man ever, but it didn’t seem possible that any one of them would have the strength or the ability to kill him and take him to Epping Forest. Boomer asked Jazz to go and visit the family to see what he could find out. They would wait to see the family until after they saw Jenny’s report. At this stage no one was aware of the tortuous death and extensive injuries John Carpenter had endured. Tomorrow would be the start of the investigation after Jenny’s results had come in. It would be the start of an unbelievable string of coincidences and facts that would lead Jazz and Ash into mortal danger.

  Ash wasn’t stupid; he knew he had been pushed to one side whilst Jazz and DI Tom Black discussed something he wasn’t supposed to be privy to. Laptop wouldn’t know anything. It was obviously too early for a report to come out of the lab yet but Ash did as he was asked, although he was still not sure about working with Jazz. Trust was something the man didn’t have, not with him anyway, and that was quite depressing.

  It was 4 p.m. and there was still time today to make things a bit right for Ash. Jazz had taken a quick look at his emails and seen the email launching yet another MPS-wide initiative but this one took his interest. It was the launch of an Ending Gang & Youth Violence in the East End of London. Officers had been assigned each day of the three days of action. This was day one and Jazz contacted DI Cunningham who was organizing teams. With full approval from the DI, he found Ash sifting through paperwork and told him they were off to get some retribution. The atmosphere around Jazz was expectant and the ripple of interest and smugness was infectious.

  A puzzled but mildly interested and nearly excited Ash followed Jazz to a police car that just happened to be available. Jazz tossed the keys to Ash and told him this was to be his investigation; Jazz would just watch and enjoy. Of course Ash had read the email regarding the initiative regarding gang and youth violence called Operation Victorious. He wondered who sat and made up the names for the many and different operations that went on. There had been Operation Witham, Operation Skywalker, and other such names. This one had taken his interest and now he saw how he was going to be involved. ‘What was the name of the scrot who landed you in trouble with The Bird Man of Barking?’ asked Jazz. ‘It was that bastard Billy Tower from the Dag Boy Gang,’ muttered Ash, still angry and frustrated he had fallen for the information given to him by a smug and far too clever for his own good Billy. It was known he was the top member of The Dag Boys and he’d become far too cocky around the police.

  ‘Today my friend, you are going to search Billy’s home under the new initiative. I bet we find quite a bit to put this little scrot away for. We know he pushes drugs; his gang regularly robs other little scrots for their mobile phones and money.’

  The search warrants were ready and because Billy Tower was high on the list of gang members to target there was one ready for him. Jazz had asked if he could take this one. No one minded. There were enough to go round and any help was welcomed.

  They arrived in Bentry Avenue. Billy Tower lived in the far left house in the banjo that was Dagenham’s version of cul de sacs. The trouble was you could be seen from the house and, in the time it took to walk along the Banjo, drugs could be flushed away. Jazz suggested they go to the house next door first to allay any fears they were after Billy. Mrs Dale, an old lady who had lived in Dagenham most of her life and remembered when the place was full of Dagenham car workers, lived there. She loved to reminisce but not many gave her the time these days. Jazz asked if they could go over the fence at the back into the next-door garden. Mrs Dale was intrigued; she was always happy to help the police. Both Jazz and Ash saw how she had kept her home looking as it must have in the 1950s: austere but clean, smelling of lavender polish. There was old-fashioned brown lino on the floor, with a carpet runner leading to the kitchen. She still had utility furniture built after the war but it was in good condition and looked as if it was in a time warp. It was pretty impressive.

  Swiftly Jazz and Ash nipped over the fence and knocked on the back door. A surprised Tracy Singer, mother to Billy Tower, opened the door. Billy was her eldest son by a boyfriend who had left before he was born. Since then she’d had three more children by different fathers. Life was difficult for Tracy and Billy was the cause of many of her problems. The search warrant was waved in front of her and Ash rushed into the house and up to Billy’s room at the back. Billy was lying on his bed playing with his X Box and he looked up in surprise as Ash walked in. After the initial split-second shock, Billy adopted his sneering, dismissive tone. He thought Ash was a nonce and not worth much. “Oi! Get out of my house, pig!’ shouted Billy. Ash was enjoying this and responded smugly, ‘No way, sunshine, I have a warrant and I am searching your room for contraband.’

  ‘Contraband? What the fuck is that?’ was the incredulous response.

  ‘Behave yourself, Snot Nose, I’ve had enough of you for now. I’m searching your room and I would ask that you remain where you are whilst I do this.’ Just as Billy was going to argue the point, Jazz entered the room and stood quietly with arms folded while Ash searched the cupboards and shelves. Billy could see he was outnumbered and he knew you didn’t mess with Jazz.

  It took only a short while for Ash to find a box with small plastic bags of white powder. There wer
e about five packets, more than enough to make Billy a dealer. Ash peered under the bed and pulled out a shoebox hiding amongst the fluff and bits of tissues and papers. When he opened it he exclaimed, ‘Well, well, well, what have I found here, Billy, it looks like a starting pistol to me.’ Jazz looked down the barrel of the pistol to see if it had been decommissioned but there was no Y-piece metal down the barrel to make it safe and legal. It was now a re-commissioned lethal weapon. It was known in the trade as a gang bangers’ special.

  Another small box under the bed contained four live shells individually wrapped in tissue. Ash held them up to show Jazz. Jazz took one look and shouted, ‘Hold up, hold up. Put them down really carefully.’ His tone was urgent but almost soothing, which suggested danger. Ash obeyed unquestioningly and put them down, almost sweating with the effort of making sure he did so without any sudden movement. Both he and Jazz took a deep breath once the bullets were back in the box. Startled and scared, Jazz looked at Ash. ‘Didn’t you learn any fucking thing at Hendon? You don’t mess with bullets when you don’t know who loaded them. One wrong move and they could have exploded and you might have filled me full of fucking holes, never mind bollock-head here.’ He pointed at a sullen and silent Billy who had just been looking on, knowing he had been nabbed. CO19 were called to come and deal with disarming the gun. With great pleasure Ash read Billy his rights and took him in handcuffs to Ilford Police Station.

  Billy was locked up in cells whilst they sorted out the paperwork and talked to CPS for charging. Ash looked at Jazz and thanked him for letting him arrest Billy. It gave him back some street cred as a detective. The gang members would know it was DC Ashiv Kumar who had arrested Billy. Jazz nodded and shrugged. ‘It was your call, Ash.’ He was actually trying to make amends for the neglect of his team member over the year.

  Jazz beat himself up with the thought that he didn’t seem to have learnt anything. How fucking stupid was he to think if he ignored Ash and gave him baby jobs to deal with he would be safe? All he’d done was make Ash a laughing stock with police and criminals alike. He didn’t like himself very much at the moment.

  There would be a lot of work to do in finding out what the Dag Gang was doing with a gun. Knives were the norm but now guns seemed to have entered Barking and Dagenham, and that was a worry. Ash was thanked for his police work by Trident who dealt with gun crimes and gangs and seemed to have a particular interest in the Dag Gang. The case was handed over to the newly formed Trident Gang Crime Command. They would now deal with Billy. It was a good day for Ash.

  At the end of the three-day operation the Commander for the new Trident Gang Crime Command had sent out an email to say how absolutely delighted he was that the carefully planned operation had yielded such excellent results which included:

  A large number of weapons seized including fourteen guns, thirty-seven knives and other bladed articles, and twenty-five other weapons including CS canisters, a cross bow, a Samurai sword, seventeen coshes/metal bars and one dangerous dog. Firearms included a sawn-off shotgun, eight hand guns (two semi-automatic), three imitation firearms, a taser and a gas-powered gun. Officers also seized a huge haul of drugs including half a kilo of crack/cocaine in Stratford, and sixty-seven grams of heroin in Barking (with a street value of approximately £3,500), and they also uncovered four cannabis factories around Romford and Dagenham.

  At the end of the three days there were celebrations in the local Barking Dog and Bone pub with officers toasting their success. Jazz was there with stories and anecdotes and lots of vodka to toast their success. There were many toasts that evening and Ash was toasted for his find at Billy Tower’s. By the end of the evening Jazz had toasted just about everyone in vodka and was ready to go home.

  Meanwhile another group of officers were working quietly and confidently trying to help young people leave gangs or help them to turn their backs on gangs. They didn’t have as much to celebrate.

  But for now Jazz said goodnight to Ash and arranged to meet him in the office at 11 a.m. after he’d met with Jenny and got the results of the autopsy on John Carpenter. At least he’d done something good for Ash and now he could concentrate on the murder of Carpenter.

  For now he would go home, heat up a pizza and possibly have a couple of drinks. He made his way home to De Vere Gardens. Mrs Chodda was at her kitchen door when he arrived. For once he was glad to see her. He wondered if she was going to introduce him to that girl he had seen in her kitchen. Mrs Chodda invited him into her kitchen but his face dropped just for a second when he saw yet another girl from some part of Mrs Chodda’s family who was in need of a husband. He changed his look into one of suitable politeness but his thoughts were dark and mean. He wondered if Mrs Chodda was related to most of Great Britain’s young women of marriageable age. He stayed for a cup of tea and a samosa or three, listening to inane conversations, and seeing a girl nearly young enough to be his daughter giggle and blush and say very little. He explained he was working on a very important case and needed to get his sleep for an early start the next day. He noted Mrs Chodda nodding in appreciation to the mother of the young girl. He could almost read her mind. She would be saying, see, I told you he was important. He smiled to himself as he walked up the stairs. Perhaps he was a little disappointed it wasn’t the young woman he had seen in her kitchen, but hey, he was tired and okay, not so hungry, but he was looking forward to a drink of the liquid nectar that he called vodka. He sat down and with the help of two or three large vodkas thought about John Carpenter and the Kent family. Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Kindness, karmas, and killers

  Jenny had worked very late last night and this morning she wasn’t at her sprightly best. ‘What the fuck do you want, DS Singh?’ was her welcome.

  ‘My darling,’ said Jazz, ‘I just couldn’t stay away from you. Having seen you yesterday in the light of early afternoon and the twinkle in your eye, I have looked forward to this morning all night.’ He thought he might have waxed a tad too lyrical even for Jenny but hey, he enjoyed the banter. Again she retorted with a request that he did something disgusting with his inner digit. He couldn’t help it; he had to laugh.

  Jenny was an amazing SOCO and her repartee may have needed a little work but he loved her for it. She had a very warm spot for him but she would never let him know that. In her sixties and not mindful that long grey hair swept carelessly into a ponytail was not a sexy sight, dressed in an ill-fitting tracksuit, Jenny lived her life for her work alone. Her mannerisms acquired over the years did not endear her to anyone and if it wasn’t for her work she might have felt lonely. Jazz was the only person that ever tried to engage her in conversation or flirt with her, and she enjoyed it immensely. At home she had her cat but it wasn’t the same. Jenny had never married and never had a boyfriend that anyone ever knew about.

  Jazz knew where she kept her coffee and biscuits and asked if he could make her a cup of something and they could talk. She tried not to care but said if he wanted to help himself, she would have a coffee with milk and two sugars. He went over to the corner of her room and boiled the kettle. Her office was a mess. She had bits and pieces everywhere. Plastic see-through bags containing the odd piece of cloth, or a coat or a piece of wood all neatly labelled. She seemed to have half of Barking stashed on one side of the room. He spotted a particularly vicious knife in a rigid see-through knife container and wondered which miscreant had that tucked down his trousers. He looked in the fridge for the milk and rummaged amongst test-tubes of blood to find the milk. He tried not to feel too squeamish.

  Jenny watched as he walked carefully across the room, balancing the biscuit tin on top of the steaming mugs, his tongue just out as if it helped him balance. She nearly said Boo!! But she didn’t think that would be funny especially as he might spill her coffee onto the piles of papers that lined the route to her chair. It was 9 a.m., which for most was the start of the day, but she had been in her office since 7 a.m. and now she ha
d a lot to talk to Jazz about.

  She threw him a freshly typed report to read. He looked at its thickness and admiringly exclaimed, ‘Gosh, Jenny, you must have worked through the night to produce this.’ She smiled, and replied that she had not quite worked that long but near enough. She knew this was important. Jazz sat and read quickly through it, frowning and cursing under his breath when he got to parts that shocked him. He looked up and asked Jenny to confirm what he had read; it was unbelievable. Yes, she told him, John Carpenter had been blinded with acid and acid had also been put down his throat. The pain must have been excruciating, she added unnecessarily, as Jazz had a good idea what that might have been like. Carpenter’s shoulders had been smashed with a large and heavy blunt instrument, and his knees and thigh bones had been shattered with a heavy blunt instrument too. Jenny added that a lot of strength would have been needed to shatter the bones in this way. With disgusted amazement Jazz asked if it was right that Carpenter was alive when he was left in the forest. Grimly, Jenny answered yes. Faeces had been found under him: his own. It looked as if he’d lived for about three days after the acid and broken bones attack. Jazz asked what killed him. A combination of shock, dehydration and hypothermia, said Jenny. She didn’t think the various bites and tearing of his flesh actually killed Carpenter but it must have contributed to the general state of shock. When he was found he had nearly been eaten and there wasn’t that much flesh left. Both she and Jazz shuddered at the thought.