Deadly Intent (Anna Travis Mysteries)

by Lynda La Plante

  Anna wondered if Simon Fagan could have an ulterior motive for his championing of Julia Brandon, either financial or sexual. She went for the latter. She asked if there was any more information from Rushton, and was taken aback to be told that Langton was handling the next interview.

  It was almost four when Sam was confident that they should move in. He had two wagons with drug-and-weapon sniffer dogs, and had orchestrated the entire bust along the same lines as the massive one two years previously. He was still astonished that the two targets had brazenly taken over the café and hair salon, knowing they had been the focus of a previous drug bust. It was either arrogance or stupidity, or gross misjudgment and inexperience.

  Anna said nothing. If these two men also worked out of the Chalk Farm drug squat, then that was how they operated—taking over rundown properties. From their luxury cars, they were obviously making money hand over fist. Could one of them be the killer of Frank Brandon?

  Sam turned to her, adjusting his earpiece. “Okay, it’s going down. It makes it a lot easier in broad daylight.”

  Anna stood up, but he gestured for her to remain sitting.

  “Watch from here! I don’t want you in the thick of it. Let me do my job.”

  Anna frowned. The hours she had been hanging out there, and now she was told she wouldn’t be in on the arrest! It really infuriated her, but there was nothing she could say.

  The two police people-carriers suddenly drove up and moved into position, blocking off the road exits at either end. At the same time, armed officers moved in from the front and rear of the building.

  Anna stared from the high window as the suspects came out with their hands on their heads. A few women were screeching and shouting abuse, as they had been removed from beneath the dryers. The hairdressers, wearing bright pink overalls, were also shouting and yelling as they were led out. They formed two lines along the pavement as the officers with the dogs held back the yapping, barking animals. The young kids were herded out and lined up; next came two mean-looking men with muscles and black shirts and trousers, struggling as they were cuffed. It was like a bizarre Noah’s Ark, with people being brought out two by two.

  The last out were their two targets, Delroy Planter and Silas Roach. Both men were handcuffed to heavyweight officers and forced to stand facing the wall. The sniffer dogs were then released inside both the café and the hair salon. The weapon-sniffer dog weaved in and out of the lines of men and women. It was extraordinary to watch; if the dog picked up the scent of a weapon on someone, it sat down in front of them. The dogs were switched every fifteen minutes to keep their sense of smell clear.

  While weapons were being recovered this way, from flick knives to machetes to small-caliber pistols, armed officers with large boxes were removing a further array of weapons from the café. Then came the uniformed officers, ready to remove the men and woman, take down statements, and generally pave the way for clearing the area. They took the first load away as Delroy and Silas remained facing the wall.

  When Sam rejoined Anna, he was grinning, and looked elated. “Well, our guys are something else! They both claim they were at the café to just score a bit of hash. Not illegal, and for medicinal purposes only!”

  Anna smiled, but became serious as Sam held up a plastic bag containing a large silver Glock pistol. “Where did you find it?”

  “In the café. In fact, Silas Roach tried to reach for it, then acted all innocent as if he didn’t even know it was there!”

  Anna looked out of the window just as Silas Roach was being turned from facing the wall. He had both wrists cuffed, and kicked out as the weapon dog barked and sat in front of him. She could feel her adrenaline pumping. Might she be looking at the man who had shot Frank Brandon? If she was, he’d also shot the man standing behind him. Would he be able to identify Alexander Fitzpatrick?

  16

  The incident room was filled to bursting as the team received the update. Anna and Gordon were now waiting for their turn to interview Silas Roach and Delroy Planter, who had both been charged with dealing and possession of class-A drugs—heroin and cocaine, and a large quantity of hashish and marijuana. A bulk of hash had been discovered hidden in one of the old-fashioned hairdryers.

  Roach and Planter were in real trouble, as the kids were so terrified that they talked freely; some were as young as eleven. A few girls who were legitimate hairdressers also spilled the beans. The nontalkers were their heavies and six Jamaican servers, who were the guys who would pass the gear and take the money to Delroy and Silas. Three were illegal immigrants; the other three had records for drug offenses and burglary. Also discovered was a considerable amount of cash in a suitcase, with lists of numerous names and addresses.

  It would take hours to process the offenses against the dealers. It was imperative for the Murder Squad to question the two men with reference to their case, but the Drug Unit were not prepared to release them into their custody until they were sure they had charges against them. Cunningham was furious, and eventually had to get Langton to secure the release of the two suspects into their custody. They were to be delivered the following morning and held in the cells at the station until they had finished being interrogated. They would then be returned to the Drug Squad to complete their charges.

  By this time, it was after nine o’clock. Cunningham called it quits for the night but wanted the team back early the following morning. Anna wrote up her reports and did not get home until after ten-thirty. It had been a long but productive day. Already the two suspects’ fingerprints were being matched with those from the drug squat, and they would have verification of any hoped-for match by the following morning. Suddenly the case was starting to move—yet again down to Anna’s diligence, in requestioning Jeremy Webster and Eddie Court.

  The next morning, however, Cunningham reprimanded her for not gaining the two dealers’ names from Eddie Court in her initial interview. If she had done so, it would have taken the case forward far more quickly. This time, Anna stood her ground and, trying hard to retain her composure, said that it was her initial interview with Jeremy Webster that had steered the case. If it had not been for him, they would not even have had the link to Eddie Court.

  “Well, I want the little bastard brought in and charged for withholding evidence. I am not satisfied.”

  “I did give him my word that if he gave me information, he would not be prosecuted,” Anna said angrily.

  “That was not your prerogative. Bring him in.”

  Anna gritted her teeth. She wanted to be privy to the interviews with Delroy Planter and Silas Roach, however, so kept her temper. It was still only eight-thirty, and they had not as yet been brought over to the station. Both suspects were to be taken before a magistrate to answer the drugs charges; there was no hope of either being granted bail. Anna gave instructions for Gordon and two officers to bring in Eddie Court. They wanted a statement from him saying that he had scored from both the men, and that they were in the Chalk Farm squat the night of Frank Brandon’s murder. This was confirmed at ten o’clock. They now had a match with their prints from those taken from the squat.

  There was a buzz as the two suspects were delivered at eleven-fifteen. They were taken to separate cells while their solicitors met with Cunningham. They would be questioned separately. Both were informed that there was strong evidence that one of them had committed a murder. Fingerprints on the Glock automatic were confirmed as belonging to Delroy Planter; ballistics had already confirmed that the weapon was the one used to kill Frank Brandon. This detail brought the incident-room tension up a notch. Everyone was eager to know the outcome of the forthcoming interrogation.

  Only Anna was doubtful that Delroy was the shooter. He was such a big man. Frank Brandon had been shot through the drug-squat door; the two bullets had entered his chest at an upward slant. When she mentioned this to Phil, he dismissed it sarcastically, suggesting that the bastard could have been sitting down—or that maybe they should look for a dwarf, because Br
andon had also been shot while he lay on the floor! Like Cunningham, he also brought up the fact that she had questioned Eddie Court days ago.

  His attitude infuriated Anna. “Well, at least I proved that Mr. Webster was of value!”

  Phil shrugged. They had, he murmured, wasted hours of time tracking down the vehicles listed by Jeremy Webster. Anna gave up. There was no way Phil was going to give her credit for anything she had done, but she didn’t have a row with him, remembering Langton’s warning about getting along with the team, especially Phil.

  It was not until twelve-thirty that Cunningham gave the team the lineup for the interviews. She would take Delroy Planter into interview room one, and Anna was to interview Silas Roach in room two. Cunningham had Phil with her, and Anna was with Gordon. Both suspects would have their solicitors present: Elwyn Jones was representing Planter and Margery Patterson was acting for Roach.

  Silas Roach had overpowering body odor. He was still wearing his knitted hat, and had not had any change of clothing since his arrest. He was belligerent and totally uncooperative, repeatedly sucking his teeth and kicking against the table leg. Anna read him his rights, but he wasn’t listening. Patterson was trying her best to make him pay attention, but he didn’t seem interested; he kept on saying that he had been set up and was not going to say anything else. He had never been at the Chalk Farm estate and his arrest the previous day was a frame-up. He was at the café having a cup of coffee.

  Anna let him rant on as she took out her notebook and files. “Mr. Roach, we have confirmation that your prints were found at number nineteen in the Warren Estate. We also have a witness to your presence on the night of the murder.” Anna showed the photographs of Frank Brandon.

  Roach was pushing his chair back and clearing his throat as if he was going to spit on the floor in front of him. “Fucking lies, fucking lies.”

  Anna tried to maintain her calm as she plowed on, bringing out more photographs from ballistics showing the bullets and saying that they now had verification that the weapon used was the one Roach had in his possession; since it also had his prints on it, they were certain he had been the man who pulled the trigger and killed Frank Brandon.

  “I fucking didn’t, I was never fucking there. It’s a fucking setup.”

  Cunningham was having a similar session with Delroy Planter. He had constantly refused to answer any questions, saying nothing but “No comment.” He denied ever using the Warren Estate to sell drugs; even when told they had witnesses, he still denied it. He also denied that he was dealing drugs from the café and said that, like Roach, he was only there for a coffee.

  “Mr. Planter, we are not interviewing you about the drug raid. This is an entirely different case. You are here to answer questions regarding the murder of an ex–police officer, Frank Brandon.”

  Phil took over and, like Anna, he showed the mortuary pictures and the murder site. He got the same denial. It was at this point that the interview-room door banged open, and James Langton barged in.

  While Cunningham explained into the tape that he had now joined the interview, Langton banged his fist down on the desk.

  “Take a good look, Delroy. He was a police officer; he was also my friend. You’ll get time for this and your life won’t be worth living, I’ll make sure of it. Start talking—you got five minutes before we charge you with his murder. Your prints are all over the fucking weapon, and we have a witness who says you fired the shots. Don’t think your pal next door isn’t going to save his own skin.”

  Langton dragged over a chair and sat opposite Delroy. Elwyn Jones, Delroy’s solicitor, asked about the evidence. Langton glared at him. “Take a look.” He swiped at the papers on the table.

  “I am advising my client not to answer any further questions until I am satisfied.”

  “I am not wasting any more time,” Langton said. “You can play out the ‘no comment’ game but, like I said, we have a witness. You are being charged with the murder of Frank Brandon.”

  “I never fucking shot him, man! It wasn’t me!”

  Langton leaned over the desk. “Then tell us who it was. You help us, Delroy, and we can give you a break, a big one.”

  Delroy shook his head, sighing.

  Anna was not having any luck with Silas Roach. He still maintained that he was never at Chalk Farm and that he had never met Frank Brandon. No matter what angle Anna tried with him, he was dismissive and becoming more and more abusive. Langton again banged into the interview room, wafting sheets of paper.

  As Anna reported his entrance into the tape, Langton leaned close to Roach. “Your pal has just put you right in it. You want to read his statement? You fired the Glock automatic into Frank Brandon’s body, you then opened the door and stood over him, firing three more shots into his head and face.”

  Patterson demanded to see the paperwork and to have a discussion with her client. Langton dragged up a chair and banged it down. Gordon got up and stood against the wall as Anna gave Langton more room at the table. He was as she remembered him: loud and brash, leering into Silas’s face as he listed the charges they were going to slap on him. “You fucking shot a police officer, Silas. He was a friend of mine, and I can guarantee it’ll be twenty years.”

  Suddenly Silas stopped his bragging; he hung his head and stared at the floor.

  “Start talking, sunshine, because we are not fucking around anymore. Selling dope to a few street kids is nothing compared to what we are wrapping around your neck. Your pal next door doesn’t want to get blamed for what you did. You opened fire, straight through the door. You never gave Frank Brandon a chance, did you? Did you?”

  Anna glanced at the documents brought in by Langton: they were old statements, including an office memo about cleaning up coffee cups after a briefing! No matter how much Silas’s solicitor tried to halt the interview, she was ignored. Langton did his leaving act, pushing back his chair and rising. It was at this point that Silas Roach started talking.

  They could have heard a pin drop as Silas, still with his head bowed, staring at the floor, explained his part in the murder of Frank Brandon. He swore that he did not use the Glock; he said it was a man called Donny Petrozzo. Piece by piece, he recalled what had taken place. Donny, who was well known to both him and Delroy, had told them about a package he had got; he said it contained drugs worth millions and he wanted them to deal the gear and cut him a big slice. The only problem was that he didn’t know what the stuff was, and had to ask around.

  Silas was asked if the drug package contained Fentanyl. He hesitated, unsure even now what the stuff was called. Delroy had made inquiries and been told it was a very powerful opiate. Donny had turned up at the squat to discuss where and how they would deal. He was very hyper, and Delroy was uncertain about dealing with him, as he refused to explain where he had obtained it from. Donny said he had tried it out, that it was mind-blowing; they all reckoned he was still high on the stuff, as he was acting so crazy. The three of them were arguing about it when there was a rap on the door. A henchman slid open the small caged opening and Donny had gone crazy. He had grabbed his pistol, pushed his way to the door, and opened fire.

  “He just shot through the fucking door! It was mayhem; we was all trying to get the gun off him, and he was screaming and shouting. Then he picks up the silencer, kicks open the door, and starts shooting again. I grabbed him and I got me gun back—it’s a fucking Glock, right? And he was spitting and screeching and there is this dead geezer on the floor.”

  Anna leaned forward. “What about the man with him?”

  “What?”

  “There was someone else with Frank Brandon—did you see him?”

  “No, but Donny did a runner, and Delroy says we had all better fuck off out of there. That’s the God’s honest truth; there was blood and fucking brains spattered all over the place. I got out through the window.”

  Cunningham and Phil were just finishing taking Delroy’s statement. His story was very close to Silas’s: Donny Petrozzo
, high on drugs, had been at the squat, wanting to get them to deal and cut him in. The next minute, Donny picked up the gun and opened fire; they had all been freaked. Delroy had stood over the dead man, even tried to find out if he was from the Drug Squad, then, certain the scream would go up, he had run. As far as Delroy knew, Petrozzo had escaped; he had even tried to contact him, but couldn’t get any answer on his mobile. He had decided that it was best to keep well away from him.

  When Phil asked about the package, Delroy said that, as far as he could remember, it was still in Donny’s possession. He wasn’t interested in it, as it was some drug he didn’t know about. All he was certain of was that Donny had got away. He was also unable to recall the man who had accompanied Frank.

  At the next briefing, Langton sifted through both men’s statements. He was of a mind that they had both told the truth. The series of gunshots also confirmed what Mrs. Webster had said: first the loud bangs, and then pop, pop, pop, after Donny had fixed the silencer to the weapon. The question was whether Donny had taken the package with him when he escaped, or had he not brought it to the squat in the first place? Langton believed he had had it with him, and had done a runner carrying it.

  They were still no closer to identifying the tall man accompanying Frank Brandon. They were also trying to fathom out why Frank Brandon, who worked for Donny as a chauffeur, and therefore would have known him well, was shot. Anna interjected that, although they knew that Frank did work for Donny, at some point he became employed by Julia Brandon; it could have been that Donny had not seen him for some time. The shots were fired upward. Donny was short, maybe he wasn’t aiming at Frank but the man behind him? Langton shook his head. Donny had pumped more shots into Frank, making sure he was dead.