Jack in the Box

by Hania Allen

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Don’t waste my time. The sample we’ve just taken from your hair extensions places you there.’

  Chrissie drew herself up. ‘I give you my word that I’m no longer dealing. I swear I’ve not been back to the Duke.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that?’ She motioned to Chrissie’s suit. ‘There’s no way you can buy clothes like that on a theatre manager’s salary.’ When there was no reply, she added, ‘The jury will be shown the phone records. You were in constant communication with Max since the day he arrived. For God’s sake, you phoned him a couple of hours before he was killed.’ She was struggling to keep the lid on her anger. ‘So what happened on the twelfth?’

  ‘Were you and Max meeting someone in his room?’ Steve said suddenly.

  A sly expression appeared on Chrissie’s face. ‘You haven’t got him, have you?’ she murmured. ‘The main man.’

  ‘You know who he is?’ Von said, trying to keep the excitement from her voice.

  She nodded, smiling.

  ‘Could you identify him?’

  ‘What’s in it for me?’

  ‘A more lenient sentence, possibly. The court will be made aware of your desire to co-operate.’ She watched the play of emotions on Chrissie’s face: fear, calculation, cunning. It was self-interest that won the day.

  Chrissie ran her hands over her skirt. ‘He was known as the Cutter. He brought us the stuff, ready mixed.’

  Von tried not to look at Steve. ‘You and Max?’ she said.

  ‘And Kenny.’

  ‘What was your role? Did you help repackage the stuff into smaller amounts?’

  ‘Only Max and Kenny did that.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘They never told me.’

  Jesus, just her luck. If they didn’t find the rented office, the stash would stay there till the lease ran out. It might be months, even years. With no material evidence against Hensbury, they’d have to pray Chrissie could identify him.

  ‘Tell me about the Cutter,’ Von said. ‘When did you first see him?’

  ‘In Max’s room. When the play was running, when I was Jonathan Moudry.’

  ‘You got a good look at him?’ she said, feeling the blood pound in her ears.

  ‘He walked in while Max and I were in bed. Seems Max had forgotten the Cutter was arriving that afternoon.’

  ‘Describe his appearance.’

  ‘Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. And very sexy. I was attracted to him. I thought that, as he knew Max, he was gay himself, so I tried it on.’ She paused. ‘That was a mistake.’

  ‘Was he violent?’

  ‘He told me what he’d do to me if I ever pulled a stunt like that again.’ She shuddered. ‘It was the look in his eyes. I was careful not to get on his wrong side after that.’ She hesitated. ‘So, do you want me to work with an artist, or something?’

  ‘Better than that,’ Von said softly. ‘We want you to pick him out of an identity parade.’

  ‘All you need to do is put a hand on his shoulder,’ Von was saying. ‘Take your time. If you want to hear anyone’s voice, then ask him to speak.’

  Chrissie seemed nervous. ‘He won’t try anything, will he?’

  ‘The sergeant will be with you,’ she said, jerking her head at Larry.

  Chrissie stared at his ponytail, seemingly unconvinced. After a quick look through the observation window, she pulled herself up and stepped into the room.

  They’d managed to muster eight men who had the same height, build, and hair colour as Hensbury. Chrissie walked slowly down the line, scrutinising their faces.

  Steve was leaning against the wall, his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘You thinking she and Max met Hensbury together on the twelfth, boss? And Hensbury waited for her to leave before killing Max?’

  ‘Or they left together and he returned later. We need her to tie that down.’

  ‘She seems determined to deny she’s involved in drugs now.’

  ‘And you know why that is,’ she said, her eyes on Chrissie. ‘Drug running all those years ago is one thing, but admitting to still being involved puts her back as a suspect in Max’s murder.’

  Chrissie had stopped in front of Hensbury. They couldn’t see her expression because she had her back to them, but they could see his. His look of puzzlement changed to one of interest. His eyes slid down her body.

  ‘He hasn’t the foggiest who she is,’ said Steve.

  ‘Then he’s seen her only as Jonathan.’

  Hensbury was speaking to Chrissie. She leant forward, apparently listening. Suddenly, she stepped back and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Yes!’ said Von, punching the air. ‘Got you, you fucker.’

  Hensbury stared at Chrissie with a look of stupefaction. Larry took her arm, and they returned to the corridor.

  ‘He hasn’t changed,’ Chrissie said, ‘apart from the grey in his hair. His voice is the same.’ She peered through the window. ‘So who is he?’

  ‘A policeman. One who’s well connected.’

  Her eyes flew to Von’s. ‘Will I be safe?’

  ‘We’ll put you in the cell furthest from him.’

  ‘There’s something else.’ She was watching the men leaving through a side door. ‘He used to wear a ring. On his pinkie.’

  ‘Can you remember which hand?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. But it was unusual, gold, with a raised motif. A pair of compasses and something else. And a letter G in the centre.’

  ‘He’s a Freemason.’

  ‘But even without the ring, it’s definitely him.’

  ‘You’ll testify to that in court?’ Von said, holding her breath.

  ‘Yes. There’s no question about it – he’s the Cutter.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Horowitz.’ She nodded to the duty policeman, who led her away.

  ‘We’ve got him, Steve,’ she said, elated. ‘We’ll have his solicitor in first thing tomorrow and charge him.’

  ‘What did Hensbury say to Chrissie?’ Steve said, turning to Larry. ‘Did you hear?’

  Larry grinned. ‘You won’t believe this, sir, but he told her he’d like to take her to dinner when he gets out tomorrow.’

  The following morning, they were back in the interview room with Hensbury and his solicitor. Von was finishing her account of Jonathan Moudry’s transformation into Chrissie Horowitz.

  ‘And she’ll testify that you provided the distributors with cut heroin, for repackaging and passing on to their sellers. I am charging you with drug trafficking, as well as the murders of Max Quincey and Tubby Wainwright.’ Her voice was calm. ‘Have you anything to say regarding these charges?’

  After a long silence, Hensbury lifted his head. ‘I’d like some time alone with my solicitor.’

  She spoke into the machine. ‘Interview suspended at 9.25am.’ She got to her feet. ‘You have fifteen minutes.’

  She and Steve left the room.

  ‘Let’s get a coffee, boss.’

  ‘I need to call The Vulture. If we can get the evidence that Tubby’s DNA is on Simon’s ring, he may crack.’

  ‘I think he’ll crack anyway. You saw his face.’

  ‘He’ll admit to drug-running – he knows a positive ID from Chrissie is evidence we can present in court – but he’ll deny murder, because the evidence is circumstantial. I want to hit him hard.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Again?’

  ‘Oh, get thee behind me. I’d give my right arm to slug him.’ She pulled out her mobile.

  Sir Bernard answered after only two rings. ‘Truscott-Hervey,’ came the clipped tones.

  ‘It’s DCI Valenti,’ she said, in surprise. ‘I had expected Miranda.’

  ‘I can’t ask her to work at the weekend, Chief Inspector, so I’ve had the phone put through to the lab.’

  ‘We have the owner of the ring here in custody, Sir Bernard.’ She steeled herself for bad news. ‘Are the results through yet?’

  ‘Preliminary tests are good.
The bottom line is that it’s highly likely that Tubby Wainwright’s blood and tissue are on that ring.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘How highly likely?’

  ‘The results are entirely consistent with his profile. Enough to persuade a jury.’ After a silence he said, ‘Chief Inspector? Are you there?’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed.

  ‘We also found traces of heroin on Tubby’s coat. It was contaminated with quinine, mixed in the exact proportions we found in the samples taken from Max Quincey’s doll.’

  ‘That’s less significant. I sent him to the Iron Duke which is where the stuff was traded. He may have picked up traces there.’

  ‘That’s true. Well, good luck, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir Bernard.’

  Steve looked at her enquiringly. ‘I take it we’ve got him?’

  ‘We’ve got him.’ She leant back, resting her head against the wall. ‘The stumbling block is still Max. Simon can’t deny killing Tubby, but he’ll deny killing Max.’

  ‘Then we need to speak to Chrissie again.’

  ‘After I’ve dealt with Simon. And, when we do see Chrissie, I’d like Danni here.’

  He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘She’s at the family home, shooting grouse, or something bigger.’

  ‘Ring the Hall and see if she’s prepared to come down.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m going back, Simon’s time’s up.’

  Larry caught her as she passed through the incident room. ‘Zoë phoned, ma’am. She’s left people everywhere, but there’s still no sighting of Downley.’

  ‘Get her back, then. She may as well be here for the kill.’

  The detectives leapt to their feet. ‘May we watch, ma’am?’ one of them said eagerly.

  ‘Provided you bring the ice-cream.’

  Chapter 34

  Hensbury was deep in conversation with his solicitor as Von entered.

  ‘Do you need more time?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ the solicitor said quietly.

  She switched on the machine. ‘Interview resuming at 9.45am on Sunday, 1st October, 2000.’

  Hensbury was a changed man. His self-confidence had evaporated. He was sitting upright, but the expression in his eyes gave him away. ‘Ask your questions, Von.’

  There was no longer any hurry. And she’d need to choose her words carefully if she wanted him to confess to killing Max. ‘Tell me about the drug ring at the Iron Duke,’ she said. ‘Not the outline, I want details. How long has it been running?’

  ‘Nearly thirty years.’

  Jesus. Thirty years? And no-one in the drugs squad picked this up? ‘Where does the stuff come from?’

  ‘It’s sourced from Pakistan, and comes in via Spain. I can give you dates and times.’

  ‘You kept records that long?’ she said in amazement.

  ‘Of course not.’ He sounded tired. ‘I meant I can tell you when and where the next shipments are due, so you can make the appropriate arrests.’

  The door opened.

  ‘DI English entering the room at 9.48am,’ she said.

  Steve took the seat opposite the solicitor.

  ‘So what happens when the heroin comes into Spain, Simon?’ she said.

  ‘I mix it with quinine, in my villa. When the stuff’s ready, I come into England by boat.’

  ‘How do you get past Customs?’

  A look of amusement crossed his face. ‘Let’s just say I’m well known there.’

  ‘Brown envelopes change hands?’

  ‘As I said, I’ll give you all the names.’

  ‘My client is keen to co-operate, Chief Inspector,’ the solicitor said.

  ‘And once you’re in London, Simon, then what?’

  ‘I contact my distributors. The faces change but, at any one time, there are about twenty. I bring over several kilos a throw,’ he said coolly. ‘I set up a time to meet, usually at night.’

  ‘So who are these distributors?’

  ‘Many are people I’ve known in the drugs squad.’ A vacant expression came into his eyes. ‘I wasn’t the only copper for sale.’

  The drugs squad. Where Simon had worked for years. She’d done the right thing in keeping them out of the investigation. It struck her that, had she contacted them, she may have lost more than just the case. The thought made her blood run cold.

  ‘The Iron Duke was the main, but not the sole, outlet,’ Hensbury was saying. ‘There are two other places in Soho.’

  ‘I notice there’s no CCTV near the Duke, and hasn’t been for years.’

  ‘Nor outside the other two pubs.’

  ‘Your doing?’ She took a guess. ‘You had them vandalised and made sure they stayed that way?’

  The corners of his lips lifted. ‘A few more brown envelopes.’

  ‘Where do you hide your money, Simon?’

  ‘In an offshore account in the Seychelles. I set up the operation very carefully. Everything went smoothly for years until those boys were killed.’ His expression darkened. ‘Tom Harrower began asking questions. It wasn’t the first time the Duke had come under suspicion, but I’d always been able to pass it on to one of my, shall we say, more trusted officers who made sure any evidence was well and truly buried.’

  ‘Then why did you allocate the Jack in the Box case to DCI Harrower? You were his boss.’

  ‘Tom went over my head and complained he was being marginalised. I was instructed by my superior to give him the murders. But I kept a careful watch on what he was doing. I have a direct line to each of the pubs, in case things go pear-shaped. Malkie, my informant at the Duke, rang me telling me Tom was asking pertinent questions. I called him there and then and warned him off.’

  ‘By threatening to harm his pregnant daughter.’

  A new respect came into his eyes. ‘I was impressed you discovered that little detail. Who told you?’

  ‘And did DCI Harrower ever challenge you about your threat?’ she said, folding her arms.

  ‘Family is what matters to Tom. Or rather, was what mattered.’ He looked at a point beyond her shoulder. ‘He was a good officer who didn’t deserve his reputation as a woodentop. And very popular with the men. He’d just won the inter-departmental swimming competition when he got the case.’

  ‘And yet he drowned in a fishing accident.’ When he didn’t reply, she added, ‘Was it an accident?’

  ‘One of the drugs squad wanted to make sure of him. He even made it look as though Tom’s legs had become entangled in weeds.’

  ‘On your orders.’ She made it sound like a statement.

  ‘I know you won’t believe me, but I never gave that order. Some idiot lost his nerve and took matters into his own hands. Tom’s blood is on those hands, not mine.’

  ‘And the Irish boys? Did you have them killed too? Did you ensure it was made to look like the work of a psychopath?’

  He stared at her. ‘To this day, those murders remain a mystery to me, Von. I have no idea why the boys were killed.’

  She looked deep into his eyes, unable to determine whether he was lying.

  ‘I swear to you,’ he said, ‘I’m innocent of those murders. Why would I have those lads killed? They were my outlet, after all. It makes no sense.’

  ‘Let’s park that one for the moment. How did Max Quincey become involved?’

  ‘He was at the Duke picking up a boy, and the boy offered him heroin. Max had the good sense not to use, but he asked him where he got it. He expressed an interest in coming in. There happened to be a vacancy – one of my distributors had just retired – and the boy passed the information along to Malkie. Malkie passed it on to me.’ He laughed softly. ‘When I discovered it was Max, I was disinclined to take it further, partly because he was Richard’s brother – Richard had introduced us some years before – and partly because I wasn’t sure how Max would fare. In the end I concluded that, as he went to the Duke for boys, it would be an ideal cover.’ He smiled. ‘I needn’t have worried. He was good. The year
the play was running, I could hardly keep up with demand. It was an innovative idea using those dolls.’

  ‘But he became careless.’

  ‘First he let that journalist in on it.’ His lips curled. ‘And then there was Jonathan Moudry. Downley turned out to be useful over the years, specially when Max was away from London, but I was never sure of Moudry. For one thing, he’d seen me in the flesh. Although he didn’t know my name, he could identify me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just have him killed?’ said Steve.

  ‘I considered the idea, but when I discovered he’d been sleeping with Max, I decided against it. I had no idea how Max would respond. Anyway, Moudry was leaving when the play finished.’

  ‘Was Max intending to take Moudry with him?’ said Von.

  ‘He had some small bit part in Jack in the Box. He left London and disappeared. I was relieved, I thought I’d seen the last of him.’

  ‘Till today,’ she said, smiling. ‘So when the play returned last month, where did you meet Max?’

  ‘Where I always met him. In his lodgings.’

  ‘Tell me what happened on September 12th.’

  He sighed heavily. ‘I don’t deny I visited him. It was in the afternoon. Three o’clock.’

  ‘How did you make the appointment? We found nothing in his phone records that linked him to you.’

  ‘You never knew Max. He had a taste for melodrama. With all my other distributors, I’d just ring them.’ He shook his head in mock disbelief. ‘But Max insisted I contact him by putting an advert in The Guardian. He even devised the codes we used in the small ads section.’

  ‘What was the purpose of the visit?’

  ‘To drop off the next consignment and pick up the cash. I stayed an hour, maybe an hour and a half.’

  ‘To drop off a consignment?’ said Steve, surprise in his voice.

  ‘Max and I weren’t just business partners, Inspector. We were friends.’

  ‘Did you have sex with him?’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, I’m heterosexual, Inspector.’ His eyes wandered over Von’s body. ‘Your DCI can testify to that.’

  ‘Was anyone else there?’ she said, not responding to the jibe.

  ‘No-one was there when I arrived. And no-one came while I was with Max. And, before you ask, he was very much alive when I left him.’