The Body in the Boot: The first 'Mac' Maguire mystery

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The Body in the Boot: The first 'Mac' Maguire mystery Page 4

by Patrick C Walsh


  As it turned out Mac never got to see his brilliance at work. After all the tests and scans all he could do was give Mac a mournful look and explain at length why nothing could be done for him. To give him his due though it was Dr. Wilkins who first prescribed the pain patches and he knew he should be grateful for that at least. For some reason he thought a neurologist might be just the person to ask about the hibernation drug.

  ‘Yes, I’ll give Bridget a ring tomorrow,’ Mac said, grateful that there was something he could do that might push the case forward a bit.

  ‘Bridget’s a paediatrician, would she know about weird drugs and hibernation?’

  ‘Probably not but she works at the Royal Free in London and they do a lot of medical research there. In fact a while back she used to go out with one of their researchers, perhaps he’ll know something. Oh, what was his name?’

  As always, when he couldn’t quite remember things, he wondered if this was the first tendrils of dementia showing itself. He said a little prayer that if his brain was going to degenerate that the bits responsible for pain went first.

  ‘It was Sammy something or other I think and don’t forget that she also knows my neurologist who’s based at the hospital too. He might well be worth having a word with.’

  ‘Sounds like it might be worth a shot.’

  As Tim spoke Mac’s phone went off.

  ‘That’s probably Bridget now, wondering how I got on,’ Mac said.

  Tim could only watch as Mac answered the call. Mac’s surprised expression made it clear that it wasn’t Bridget on the other end of the call.

  All Mac said was ‘Really?’ and ‘Yes’ twice.

  When he finished the call Mac was thoughtful for a moment before he said, ‘Now that was a real surprise.’

  Tim’s curiosity was getting the better of him.

  ‘What’s a surprise?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in the taxi.’

  ‘Taxi? Where are we going?’

  ‘To Hitchin. I’m going to meet an old acquaintance.’

  ‘Anyone I know?’ Tim asked as they downed their drinks.

  ‘I hope not, he’s not exactly someone you’d want to make friends with in my opinion.’

  In the taxi Mac explained.

  ‘That call was from one of Mr. C’s minders.’

  ‘Mr. C? He has a letter for a name?’

  ‘It’s just what people call him. His proper name is Pranav Contractor. His family originally came from Gujarat, in the west of India, via Uganda. Apparently, amongst other things, they use professions as surnames so you could have a Mr. Doctor or Mr. Engineer. Anyway Mr. C came here when he was a boy and he’s done quite well for himself. He owns a string of brothels in North London, several casinos, a hotel chain and God knows what else. He’s into prostitution, drugs, gambling, anything that will make money and he doesn’t much care what he has to do to get it.’

  ‘So what’s he doing here in leafy Hertfordshire and what’s he want with you?’

  ‘God knows but I must admit I’m intrigued enough to want to find out.’

  ‘I take it you ran into him professionally?’

  Mac nodded.

  ‘Yes, twice, both murders and both done by him. I don’t mean personally, he’d never dirty his own hands, but he definitely gave the order.’

  ‘I take it from your expression that he was never brought to justice?’

  ‘We could never get anything on him, he was just too clever. You know he never uses a computer for anything important, never writes much down, almost everything is done by word of mouth.’

  ‘So, with all those businesses, how does he keep track of things?’

  ‘He’s got a phenomenal memory and, so I’ve heard, have his sons. Both are trained accountants and keep all the figures in their heads. No physical evidence.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw him then?’

  ‘God, must be five or six years ago now. We got a call when one of his competitors, a thug called Bobby Bosio, was found hanging upside down from a lamp post outside his own house. His tongue had been ripped out and his penis cut off. They’d put his penis inside his mouth and stitched up his lips, all done while Bobby was alive apparently.’

  ‘God, you’re right, he doesn’t sound like someone you’d want to say the wrong thing to. Why did he do that?’

  ‘This Bobby was too full of himself and he probably mistook Mr. C’s laid back attitude for him being scared. So Bobby thought he’d try and put the frighteners on him. He said he’d see Mr. C dead and that he’d personally see to his wife and daughter. Now Mr. C really loves his daughter and, someone even saying they didn’t like the colour of her dress might end up with a couple of broken arms and legs, so you can imagine who we went looking for when Bobby turned up dead.’

  ‘And?’ Tim prompted, after Mac had gone silent for some seconds.

  ‘Sorry, I just remembered something. The pathologist today said there’d been a lot of overdoses lately. I wonder…sorry, anyway back to Mr. C. We went through the motions, we investigated and investigated but we found exactly nothing. There was no evidence linking Mr. C to the killing or anyone else for that matter.’

  ‘What’s he like? I’ve never met a real gangster before.’

  ‘You won’t today either. He’s made it quite clear I’m to come alone. We’re meeting in the Gate of Asia, so wait for me in the Vic and I’ll come over after I’ve seen him. What’s he like? He must be worth many millions but he certainly doesn’t flaunt his wealth. He always dresses in a dark suit, nice but not one of those designer suits, white shirt and black tie. He lives in a four bedroom house in North London and owns one car, an old Bentley. He’s average height, slim and wears rimless spectacles. If someone told you he was a bank manager or doctor you’d believe it. He has this stare though, I can’t remember ever seeing him blink although I’m sure he must. When he looks at you it’s like he’s looking through you. I mean I’ve been a policeman for decades and seen a lot of stuff but even I find that stare a bit unsettling at times.’

  The taxi dropped them outside the restaurant.

  ‘Sure you’ll be okay?’ Tim asked, concerned for his friend’s safety.

  ‘Sure, he wouldn’t have asked to meet me anywhere so public if he had any problem with me. Don’t worry, save me a seat and I’ll meet you in a few minutes.’

  Tim made off in the direction of the pub which was only a couple of hundred yards down the road. It was a proper January evening and Mac felt the cold through his jacket as he stood hesitantly on the pavement. He was hoping that what he’d told Tim would prove to be right because you could never tell with Mr. C.

  The ‘closed’ sign was displayed in the window but Mac knew that one of the most feared gangsters in London was sitting inside. For a split second we wondered what the hell he was doing then he girded his loins and opened the door.

  Chapter Five

  Inside it was lusciously warm and the complex aroma of Eastern spices made his mouth instantly water.

  He’d grown up in Birmingham, one of the best cities in the world for curries, and he thought of himself as being something of a connoisseur. He‘d tried quite a few restaurants in the area and found them all wanting, all except for the Gate of Asia. There was nothing special about its location, between a launderette and a Chinese take away, or indeed the décor. The food, however, was heavenly. As he walked in he wondered how Mr. C had found out about it.

  There were only five people in the restaurant. Three extra-large men sat at one table, their suits barely containing their muscles. They all looked steadily at Mac as he walked in. Another muscleman locked the door behind him before patting him down. At the far end of the room a slim man sat at a table by himself.

  Mr. C’s face remained impassive as Mac took the seat opposite.

  ‘On time Mr. Maguire, as always. Have you eaten yet?’

  ‘No I haven’t.’

  ‘Join me then, I’m only having starters but what starters they do here!
The only time I ever ate a better Bhaji was when my poor mother was alive.’

  He raised his hand and two waiters and the restaurant owner immediately appeared. He ordered Onion Bhajis and Lamb Tikkas for them both.

  ‘How do you know about this place?’ Mac asked.

  ‘I grew up not far from here, in Luton actually. They’ve got some good places there too but this is the best restaurant near where you live.’

  ‘So it wasn’t chance that brought you here then?’

  ‘I leave very little in life to chance, Mr. Maguire. I have a problem and I dropped in here on my way back to London in the hope that you might help me solve it. I only have a few minutes so I’ll get down to business. You’re helping the police investigate the case of a Miss Henrietta Lewinton who was found in the boot of a car a couple of days ago. I have an interest in Miss Lewinton.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘She works for me, she’s one of my girls. Her street name is Candy. I’ve invested a lot of money in her and so I’m not happy when she just disappears without a word.’

  ‘You own businesses in Luton too?’

  ‘Not in my name you understand but yes. They were the first businesses I started so I’m quite attached to them. So now I have a problem and I don’t like problems, they keep me awake at night. If it had just been the one girl you might write it off, these things happen after all. However Candy isn’t the first girl to go missing.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Including Candy, three from me, and a further three from my competitors.’

  ‘Six girls in all, what makes you think they’re linked?’

  Mr. C waved for the waiter again.

  ‘Please bring me a pen and some paper.’

  Within a minute the waiter returned.

  ‘Here Mr. Maguire, the pen and paper are for you. Please write down what I say.’

  He then rattled off names, dates and other information. Mac was hard put to keep up. When he’d finished Mr. C took the sheet of paper and checked it.

  ‘Quite correct Mr. Maguire,’ he said.

  He returned the paper to Mac who had the strange feeling that he was back at school.

  ‘By the way I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell the police where this came from, they don’t know I have interests in Luton and I’d like to keep it that way. So now you can see what the problem is. My girls are getting scared and wondering if they will be the next to disappear and that is definitely not good for business. Besides which there is someone out there who seemingly thinks he can get the better of me and, as you know, that just drives me crazy.’

  ‘Which girls were yours?’ Mac asked.

  Mr. C pointed at Hetty’s name and those of two other girls.

  ‘I take it that you’ve looked into this yourself?’ Mac said trying to remember if anyone had been found hanging from a lamp post recently.

  ‘Of course but we found nothing.’

  ‘So why do you think I can help?’

  ‘Mr. Maguire we have been at swords drawn, as it were, for many years but you have been a most worthy opponent. I have a great admiration for your powers of investigation and so, if you are on board, I am very hopeful of a result. I, unfortunately, have some bigger fish to fry.’

  At this point the waiters returned with their food. They were both silent and appreciative as they ate.

  When they’d finished Mr. C said, ‘Well Mr. Maguire can you help? After all you’re not a policeman any more, you’re for hire. Please name your price.’

  ‘If the information you’ve given me is correct I’ll be trying with all my might to ensure that whoever is behind this is stopped but I won’t be doing it for you, I’ll be doing it for Miss Lewinton and her mother and the mothers of the girls who’ve been killed. However there is something I want.’

  Mr. C seemed interested for the first time that evening and leant forward.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll do my best to find who’s kidnapping these girls but I want you to leave Henrietta Lewinton and her mother alone. I want you and your people never to come near her again.’

  Mr. C gave this a few second’s thought.

  ‘Done, Mr. Maguire, we have a bargain. She’s probably damaged goods anyway from what I hear. Write down this number.’

  Mac did as he was ordered.

  ‘If you need any information from my side ring this number. Goodbye Mr. Maguire.’

  He wiped his lips with a napkin, got up and walked straight towards the door. One of the musclemen went out first while another stood in the doorway. A few seconds later they were all gone.

  Mac sat looking down at the sheet of paper until he remembered that Tim was waiting for him. On his way out Jaydev, the owner of the restaurant, accompanied him to the door.

  ‘Was everything alright this evening, Mr. Maguire?’

  ‘Yes as always. Tell me does Mr. C come here often?’

  ‘Not often.’ Jaydev looked uncomfortable and obviously wanted to change the subject. ‘We haven’t seen you here for a while and how is your good lady wife?’

  Mac was stopped in his tracks. He didn’t know what to reply and so he just said, ‘She died, I’m afraid.’

  A look of embarrassed shock appeared on Jaydev’s face.

  ‘I am so sorry Mr. Maguire, I didn’t know.’

  He held the door open for Mac.

  Then, putting his hand on Mac’s shoulder, he said, ‘How do you Irish say it…yes, I am so sorry for your troubles, Mr. Maguire, so sorry.’

  Mac was touched.

  ‘Thank you, thank you.’

  ‘Please come again and I’ll do you something really special.’

  Mac promised he would.

  He stood outside on the pavement, a sudden sadness threatening to engulf him like a big wave. He somehow managed to withstand the force of the emotion and made himself think about the case and the new information he’d just gained. He slowly walked the two hundred yards to the pub turning what he’d learnt over in his mind.

  The information Mr. C had given him totally changed the whole tenor of the case. By the time he reached the front door his back was grumbling again but he was so deep in thought he hardly noticed it. The pub was quite full and he had to look hard for Tim who luckily had managed to get a table in the far corner.

  ‘God you’ve been gone nearly forty five minutes, I was beginning to get worried,’ Tim said.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it but first I need to call someone. In the meantime, as I don’t want to die of dehydration…’

  ‘I’ll get them in,’ Tim said with a smile and disappeared.

  Mac got his mobile out and called Tommy. Tommy agreed to meet him in the pub as soon as he could.

  When Tim returned with the drinks he could see that Mac was deep in thought.

  ‘So what happened? I can see from your face that something serious went down.’

  ‘Tommy Nugent, the young detective I told you about, he’s coming to meet us in about an hour, mind if we wait until then? Did you get something to eat?’

  ‘Not yet, I was waiting for you. It’s Pie Night tonight and the smell has been driving me mad.’

  ‘Go ahead and order, I’ve had something to eat.’

  They happily filled in the time until Tommy arrived by talking about the seemingly unstoppable demise of their favourite football club. They had nearly sorted out the defence when Mac saw Tommy’s head above the crowd. He waved and Tommy came over.

  ‘Wasn’t expecting to see you quite so soon,’ Tommy said.

  ‘Sit down. This is my friend Tim, Tim this is Detective Constable Tommy Nugent.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘What are you having Tommy?’ Tim asked as he stood up.

  ‘Just a coke please, I’m driving.’

  ‘Okay,’ Tim said turning to Mac. ‘Now don’t start until I get back.’

  Tommy looked questioningly at Tim as he made his way to the bar.

  ‘Start? I take it you’ve found somethin
g new, something that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’

  Mac nodded. He pulled the sheet of paper out of his pocket and passed it to Tommy.

  ‘Read this while we’re waiting for Tim and then pass it on to him when he gets back.’

  Tommy’s expression changed to a sombre one as he read what Mac had written down.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ was all he said when he reached the end. He glanced up at Mac and then read it again before Tim arrived with the drinks. Once Tim had placed the drinks on the table Tommy passed the sheet to him. They both stayed silent while Tim read the sheet.

  ‘Good God!’ Tim said. ‘It’s spooky, it’s just like you were saying earlier.’

  He handed the sheet back to Mac.

  ‘How sure are you that this information is correct?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘I can’t tell you the source but I’m a hundred percent sure it’s correct. Think we should go back to the station after this drink?’ Mac suggested.

  ‘Yes. I’d even go so far as getting DI Carter in as well. I just hope he isn’t still asleep though.’

  At the station Mac had just finished writing on the white board and Tommy was still banging away at his computer when DI Carter arrived. He looked tired but much improved having changed clothes and shaved. He still looked very grumpy however.

  ‘Nugent, this had better be bloody good to call me away from my wife and TV at eight in the evening. What have you got?’

  ‘Dan, you’ve met Mac this is Tim…er…’

  ‘Tim Teagan,’ Tim volunteered.

  ‘Yes, Tim is Mac’s friend.’

  DI Carter shook Tim’s hand and then turned back to Tommy.

  ‘Okay you’ve got ten minutes and then I’m going back to see what happens in the end of Midsomer Murders.’

  Three faces looked at him with puzzlement.

  ‘The wife likes it, okay?’ Dan said somewhat defensively.

  ‘We got some new information this evening, or rather Mac did,’ Tommy said.

  ‘He’s written it down on the white board. Mac?’

  Dan looked at the white board.

  Mandy Stokes 21– found dead on Fri 22 Aug

  Barbara Mason 20– disappears Thurs 21 Aug - body found Sun 14 Sept

 

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