by Bill Kitson
After he told Shaw of the reason for the young man’s presence, he continued, ‘After we spoke last week I was talking to our commander and happened to mention that you and I had been discussing Max Perry. I only said it because I knew he was marginally involved in investigating some of the crimes being committed by the various gangs around that time. He told me that this gentleman’ – he indicated the young man – ‘had been to see him about six months ago, but they were unable to act on the information he gave back then. However, he thought it worthwhile asking him to come and visit us, so that we can hear his tale, although even now I’m not sure whether there is much we can do about what he has to say.’ The DCI nodded to the young man, ‘Please tell DS Shaw what you told me.’
Shaw listened carefully and went on to explain what he had been told about Thornton’s sudden departure to Yorkshire in search of diamonds.
‘It seems as if things have kicked off again,’ the DCI said, summing up, ‘although why that has happened now is as much of a mystery as what happened back then. I think for the time being the best thing to do is for you to let Nash know about all this. It may be of some help to him, even if at the present moment I can’t for the life of me think how.’
Shaw rang the Helmsdale number, only to be told that Nash was out with his DS and wasn’t expected back until the following day. Shaw left a message for Nash to ring him back. The news he had for him was over a quarter of a century old. Another twenty-four hours wasn’t going to make any difference.
Next morning, Sergeant Binns handed Nash a note. ‘This came in yesterday whilst you and Clara were sightseeing in the borders,’ Binns told him.
‘It was hardly sightseeing; we were interviewing a witness,’ Nash told him severely. ‘In CID we’re kept far too busy to waste time sightseeing, or doing sudoku puzzles,’ he added, staring pointedly at the open paper half-hidden by a folder on Binns’ desk.
As Nash walked away he was joined by Mironova. She studied the note he passed her. ‘What do you reckon this is about?’ she asked. ‘It’s only a few days since you spoke to Shaw, isn’t it? I wonder what’s happened since then?’
‘We’ll soon found out.’ Nash dialled the number and switched on the speaker so Mironova could hear both sides of the conversation. ‘Brian, it’s Mike Nash. I’ve DS Mironova with me. Sorry we were out yesterday.’
‘First off, Mike, my governor has been doing a bit of digging around and talked to one or two people here who know more about the Perry family, and he’s come up with a lot more background. You may know a lot of this already, but some of it could be new, and there could be bits of it that are particularly relevant in the light of what happened yesterday.
‘Going back to the time just before Max Perry was murdered, from what we could gather he was already losing a lot of power and influence. The competition was fierce, especially from Callaghan’s mob and the triads, who were just beginning to flex their muscles. Both lots were better financed, because they were dealing in things Perry wouldn’t touch. Matters didn’t begin to improve until a while after Max’s death, and it was Phil Miller who started to turn the gang’s fortunes around. He disposed of the competition and began dealing in more lucrative products. He virtually took over the drugs trade in certain areas, as well as becoming heavily involved in the protection racket and providing a stable of high-class call girls. The cash flow from these operations and the influence that could be exerted by many of the call girls’ clients made him immune from prosecution.’
‘What does that mean?’ Clara asked.
‘It means that Miller was able to buy or obtain the best legal advice,’ Shaw replied. ‘I’m referring to the best solicitors, barristers and judges that money could buy – or persuade to offer their services by other means. Blackmail is the word that springs to mind. Again, much of this is rumour or hearsay, but I think it’s fairly informed gossip. Sadly,’ he added with a heavy sigh, ‘that also extends to include some police officers. Apparently, there was a lot of loose talk at the time about officers taking backhanders but nobody was ever brought to court – although there were a few suspiciously early retirements. Let’s face it, this sort of thing is by no means new, in fact from what I heard and read the big gangs that were operating in the sixties used to brag openly about the people they had on their payroll, from politicians to policemen.’ ‘Where’s all this leading?’ Nash asked.
‘Be patient, I’m getting there. By the time Miller had the old
Perry organization firing on all cylinders it had become the biggest, most powerful set-up in the capital, and that continued to be the case until recently, despite the new threats from the likes of the Eastern Europeans.’
‘When you said until recently, I take it something has happened to change that?’
‘Again, it’s more rumour than hard fact, I’m afraid, but there’s a lot of evidence to back it up. The story is that Miller lost a shed load of money when an investment of his went sour, big time. I haven’t got the details, but the info comes from one of the guys in the Serious Fraud Office, so I think you can take it as genuine. From what they told my governor, Miller sank several million, more than even he could afford, into a company controlled by that American financier, the one who made off with all his clients’ money.’
‘That would certainly explain why Miller is so keen to get his hands on those diamonds all of a sudden.’
‘What prompted all the interest at your end, Brian?’ Clara asked.
‘It was after I mentioned your interest in Max Perry to my governor. He repeated the conversation to our commander, who remembered a visitor he’d interviewed a few months back, a young man who told him a most interesting story. The young man’s grandfather had died shortly before then, but before he died, he spoke to his grandson at great length, and told him a very strange tale, one which was in effect a death-bed confession. The old man was a diamond dealer who from time to time bought and sold diamonds on behalf of Max Perry. Apparently, Perry chose him because the old man was often able to purchase diamonds at a more favourable price than other dealers. Reading between the lines, I think that might have been because he didn’t enquire too closely into their source. This was certainly the case with the last transaction Perry asked him to undertake; a large consignment of blood diamonds. The order was placed and the couriers set off from the continent, bringing the stones which they would exchange for cash at a prearranged meeting point.’
‘What happened?’ Clara asked.
‘The stones never arrived. They vanished, along with the couriers and their car. As the old man told it, the supplier got a phone call shortly before the men set off, purporting to be from the London dealer, changing the venue for the exchange. The old man swore, and continued to maintain, even when he was dying, that he never placed that call. Soon after that Max Perry was murdered, presumably because the owner of the diamonds was convinced it was Max who had double-crossed him. The old man told his grandson that he had been visited by a couple of heavies who roughed him up a bit, until he was able to prove that he had nothing to do with the heist.’
‘That can’t have been it, surely? They must have made more of an effort to recover the diamonds,’ Clara suggested.
‘I asked that same question,’ Shaw told them, ‘and he said that the owner and his grandfather hired a man to look for them. The man was a specialist, who had been very successful in tracing stones on behalf of mine owners in Africa, where diamond theft was rife.’
‘What happened, did he find anything out?’
Shaw’s reply stunned both Nash and Mironova into silence. ‘Nobody knows; he set off for England and was never seen or heard from again. He vanished as completely as the couriers had.’
‘The interest shown in those diamonds by Miller now would tend to suggest that Max Perry did have a hand in the theft,’ Nash said.
‘Yes, but that still doesn’t explain what happened to the stones,’ Clara pointed out, ‘unless someone else stole them from Max.’
‘Or unless the couriers did take them and are living it up in some tropical paradise,’ Nash suggested.
‘Both of which are really interesting theories,’ Shaw agreed. ‘But unfortunately, neither of them has a shred of evidence to back them up.’
Nash thanked Shaw for the information and promised to keep in touch as soon as they had anything to report. After he rang off, he looked across at Mironova. ‘I think I phrased that wrong,’ he told her, ‘I should have said if we ever have anything to report.’
Before she could reply, Nash’s phone rang. ‘Good morning, Professor,’ he said, ‘how can I help?’
He listened and Clara wondered what the pathologist had for them. It was obviously something of interest – she could tell by Nash’s frown of concentration. Eventually, he muttered his thanks and replaced the receiver. He stared at Mironova for several seconds, but Clara realized his thoughts were elsewhere.
After a while he said, ‘The professor’s received the DNA test results on Graham Nattrass. The first thing he did was compare the profile to that of Ray Perry.’
‘Let me guess, Nattrass is Ray Perry’s son.’
‘Wrong! That was exactly what I thought, but apparently Graham Nattrass and Ray Perry aren’t related in any way, at least not blood relatives.’
‘Was that all Mexican Pete had to say?’ Clara tried hard to hide her disappointment at what seemed like yet another dead end.
‘No, there was far more. And what he did tell me was far stranger than our guess. He did find a close familial match to Graham Nattrass in the DNA database.’
‘Who might that be?’
‘That’s an exceedingly good question, and the answer is, we don’t know. Not by name, at least. However, Mexican Pete is one hundred per cent certain that Graham Nattrass is a close blood relative of the woman whose remains were found in the woods near Bishops Cross almost twenty-five years ago.’
Following the shock revelations of the link between the DNA from Graham Nattrass and the unidentified woman, the Helmsdale team met early the next morning. Nash phoned Netherdale and asked Tom Pratt to join them, given his involvement in what was now a reopened investigation.
Mironova began by updating Pearce and Pratt on the news supplied by Brian Shaw and Mexican Pete. Following which, Nash asked them for their thoughts and ideas. ‘I don’t care how wild or irrelevant they might seem,’ he told them, ‘in fact, the way things are, the wilder the better.’
If anything could have been guaranteed to cause silence, it was this request. For some time it seemed that none of them would come up with anything constructive, until eventually, and with a great deal of hesitation, Pearce suggested, ‘What about this woman, Corinna Perry? She seems to be the one constant in all this other than Ray Perry. She is the only link I can see between what happened then and events now. Do we know anything about her? Her background and character, I mean?’
Nash thought this over for a moment. ‘Not a great deal,’ he admitted. ‘Wellings, the retired Met officer, told us she was involved in a lot of charity work, fund-raising and the like. He seemed to think she was a fairly decent sort of woman. I think he also said Corinna was a nurse or something, didn’t he?’
Clara nodded confirmation.
‘I reckon we ought to have another word with Sister Evangeline and see what she can tell us about Corinna Perry.’
‘Now that I think about it,’ Clara commented, ‘I got the impression Wellings might have been blinded by the fact that Corinna was an attractive woman.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘He seems that type. He positively drooled over that photo of Frankie Da Silva, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes off my legs.’
‘That wasn’t exactly what I meant,’ Nash said dryly. ‘Why do you think he might be wrong?’
‘Because, if Corinna is such a saint, how come she keeps taking up with really dodgy characters? Max Perry was an evil, violent gangster, and by what we’ve heard, this Phil Miller sounds a whole lot worse.’
‘On the birds of a feather theory? I guess that makes sense. Give Sister Evangeline a call and see if she can come up with any info on Corinna. If we can find out where she hailed from or where she worked, we might be able to talk to someone who knew her then and get some idea as to what makes her tick.’
Their plans had to be put into abeyance, for Clara reported to Nash, ‘Sister Evangeline has gone into Newcastle. She isn’t due back until this evening.’
‘In that case, leave me the number and I’ll call her, no doubt you’ll be on the phone all evening to your beloved.’
Nash’s intention that evening was thwarted for some time by a conversation with his son, regaling him with his continued success with the cricket bat. Once Daniel had rung off, Nash dialled Sister Evangeline’s number. ‘How are things?’ he asked, when she came to the phone.
He was encouraged by her response. She had, it seemed, been coping very well. ‘I’ve been busy,’ she told Nash. ‘It’s far more complicated than I imagined it would be, although he has come out of the coma now and he does know me, Inspector. The doctors say that is very encouraging, especially after all these years. Fortunately, everyone has been very understanding, which has helped enormously. Was that why you rang?’
‘Partly,’ Nash replied, ‘but I also wanted to see if you can help me with some information. We were discussing the case this morning and we realized we know next to nothing about Corinna, Max’s wife, and we didn’t know who else to ask.’
There was a hard edge to her voice as she replied, ‘Oh, yes, the lovely Corinna. Soft and smooth as silk on the outside, and inside: granite. She cultivated such a good-hearted, caring image. Charity work, champion of the needy, sitting on committees. But underneath she was as hard as nails; in fact, Inspector Nash, she was a bitch. She and Max were well suited.’
‘That’s interesting, because that’s not the impression I was given.’
‘Well, she worked hard at it, no question of that.’
‘I know she was a nurse, but can you remember anything else about her?’
‘Not very much, to be honest. I didn’t take to her from the word go, which doesn’t help. Her maiden name was Smart, that I do remember, from the wedding service.’
‘Where did she and Max meet? Was it in London?’
‘No, Corinna wasn’t from London. It was whilst Max was on tour when he was still an entertainer. Somewhere in the Midlands, I think. Where the cathedral got bombed.’
‘Coventry?’
‘That’s right,’ Sister Evangeline chuckled. ‘I remember it now, because Jimmy, my husband, made a rude joke about it at the reception. Something to the effect that it would be Max who was riding bareback that night.’
Nash laughed.
‘Yes, I thought you’d appreciate that,’ Evangeline commented.
‘Is that all? About Corinna, I mean.’
‘There was something else, but I can’t for the minute think what it was. I’ll phone your office if I remember, shall I?’
Nash thanked her, and was about to ring off, when she exclaimed, ‘Captain Cook!’
‘What?’
‘Where Corinna worked before she was married. The name, I think it had something to do with Captain Cook.’
‘But Captain Cook was from round this way. As far as I know he had no connection with the Midlands. Are you sure you have that right?’
Sister Evangeline sighed. ‘I’m not certain of anything these days, Mr Nash, and I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.’
‘What are you doing, Mike?’
Pearce looked over Nash’s shoulder at the computer screen. He had been sitting at the terminal when he arrived in the CID suite the following morning.
‘Trying to find some information about someone. Tell me, what do you remember about Captain Cook?’
Viv blinked. ‘Why are you researching him? Not as a suspect, I hope, because I’ve got news for you. Arresting him won’t be easy.’
&nbs
p; Nash chuckled, and explained. ‘I’ve tried Newfoundland, St Lawrence, Whitby, Great Ayton, Middlesbrough, Australia, Botany Bay, Sydney, Hawaii, all sorts of things, but no joy.’
‘You missed the most obvious one of all.’
‘What was that?’
Pearce told him, and seconds after Nash typed the name into the search bar, they stared at the result, transfixed by what they were reading. The news item was old, but the topic was red hot, literally. ‘Is this to do with our case?’ Pearce asked.
‘I can’t tell you for certain, because I don’t know. But there is a connection, of that I’m sure.’ He pressed print and handed Viv the papers. ‘I’d like you to research that place, Viv. Find out everything you can. What sort of cases they handled, for one thing. I’m particularly interested in anyone who worked there, apart from these unfortunate people.’ He pointed to the paper.
Pearce stared at the article. Under the headline ‘Three Dead in Blaze at Endeavour Clinic’, the news item described a fire that had destroyed a wing of a private treatment centre on the outskirts of Coventry. ‘I still don’t see the connection,’ Viv said.
‘Neither do I at the moment. All I do know is that Sister Evangeline told me that Corinna Perry worked there prior to her marriage. Of course, the fire could have been pure coincidence, but—’
‘You don’t believe in coincidence.’
Tina’s flight had been delayed. Her sense of annoyance was compounded by helplessness, which did not sit easily with one who was used to being in control. As she had already completed the security procedure, she was unable to return to the main body of the airport, and had to remain for several hours in the restricted zone. Apart from the highly expensive bars and cafés, there was little for her to do to pass the time but browse the duty-free shops.
As a way of killing several hours it had little to recommend it, even for a far more confirmed shopaholic than Tina. During her several passes through the various stores only one item caught her fancy. The garment looked elegant, even when draped around the lifeless mannequin in the shop’s window display. When Tina tried it on and turned to study her reflection in the full-length mirror, she already knew that she was going to buy it. Ignoring the price tag, which seemed designed to make the eyes water, she examined the cloak, feeling the way it clung to her slender figure, certain in her own mind that it had been woven for her and no one else.