Death Trap

by Patricia Hall

  Tess sighed but nodded. ‘A few days,’ she said. ‘Anyway, you haven’t heard the news, have you? Mrs Mackintosh came round to school this afternoon to tell us that her husband has been let out on bail, and to ask us to tell Ben if by any chance he should turn up there. She’s obviously thrilled they’ve got Nelson out, but worried to death about the boy. They’ve still not heard a word from him.’

  ‘That’s good news for Nelson,’ Kate said. ‘Perhaps the boy will go home now.’

  ‘Do you want to go round to the cafe?’ Tess asked.

  But Kate shook her head. ‘I told you I was staying with Harry last night,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t tell you why.’ And she told Tess briefly about her encounter with the threatening thugs on the street.

  ‘Lucky Harry turned up when he did,’ Tess said dryly. ‘Did you sleep with him?’

  Kate smiled. ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But never mind that. I promised him that if I came home I wouldn’t go out, so I’m as keen as you to get out of here, believe me. I don’t want to end up at Harry’s flat for want of anywhere else to stay.’

  ‘He doesn’t sound like a man who’ll make you that sort of offer,’ Tess said sourly, obviously wanting to say more when they heard a banging noise from downstairs and looked at each other in alarm.

  ‘It’s the front door,’ Kate said. ‘But the landlord and those thugs have keys so it can’t be them. We’d better have a look.’

  The two women went down the stairs and peered through the glass panel at the side of the window through which they could see the stocky figure of DS Eddie Lamb moving about impatiently on the top step. Kate unlocked the door and the sergeant pushed his way without ceremony into the hall.

  ‘A word with you, young lady,’ he said brusquely. ‘Have you been out taking photographs again?’

  ‘Not today,’ Kate said. ‘I’ve been in Soho all day. Why do you ask anyway? It’s not illegal.’

  ‘No, it’s not, but it is provocative. You don’t seem to understand what a knife-edge we’re on here. The bloody stupid magistrates have let Nelson Mackintosh out and a lot of people are very unhappy about that. The white lads are out on the streets just looking for an excuse to kick off and the last thing we want is someone like you muddying the waters. So I’ll ask you politely, Miss O’Donnell, keep out of the way, keep your camera out of the way, it could be just the spark some of these kids need when they see some nigger getting away with murder. They won’t stand for it and who’s to say they’re not right.’

  Kate looked at Lamb’s flushed cheeks and angry eyes and recognised the risks but she could not contain her own anger. ‘You’re telling me I can’t do my job,’ she said. ‘I don’t think you’ve any right to do that.’

  ‘We’ve every right to see the peace is kept. Uniform won’t hesitate to take you in for your own protection if it comes to it, believe me. I’m only here because you’re Harry Barnard’s bird but even so you need to do as you’re told. It’ll only take one spark to set these lads off, one camera shot they don’t like, one word out of place from some uppity black lad, and we’ll be back in fifty-eight territory. We told the magistrates that but they took more notice of that bloody lawyer Manley than they did of us. “Mr Mackintosh has no record of violence,” they said. As if bloody murder isn’t violence.’

  ‘But you haven’t charged him with murder,’ Kate said. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Not yet, but we will, believe me. And now we’ve got to keep a police guard on his bloody cafe to keep the mob away.’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong man,’ Kate said, realising immediately that the remark was a big mistake.

  ‘Yes, well, you might believe that but my DCI doesn’t and he’s the one who counts,’ Lamb said flatly. ‘Anyway, I’ve said what I wanted to say. For your own safety, stay indoors tonight, girl. And keep that bloody camera out of sight round here. It’s like a red rag to a bull. I’ll be telling Harry Barnard that too, see if he can’t talk some sense into you.’ And with that he spun on his heel and disappeared down the steps.

  Tess slammed the door behind him with an anguished look on her face. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Looks like a night in with the telly for us, doesn’t it? Let’s hope there’s something good on.’

  Harry Barnard parked discreetly round the corner from the Bettanys’ extensive Hampstead mansion and was amused to see that the front door was opening slowly almost before he had closed the wrought-iron gate and started across the gravelled forecourt. Shirley was just out of sight as she swung the door fully open and pulled him inside. Clad only in a flimsy negligee she left no doubt what her immediate intentions were and he followed her quickly upstairs and allowed himself to be undressed and pulled into bed with hardly a word spoken.

  ‘Ooh, I’ve been looking forward to that all day,’ she whispered when they had finished and he had lit a cigarette, which he passed over to her.

  He had enjoyed Shirley Bettany’s avid attentions for more than a year now, and she never disappointed. But he was under no illusions that she would ever put her lavish lifestyle at risk, in spite of her husband’s reputed inadequacies as a lover, and as he took the cigarette back and drew the smoke deep into his lungs he was content enough with that. Shirley was generous in many extremely pleasant ways, as she had just proved, and was undeniably useful as a willing enough source of information, but there was an edge of danger here too. If Fred Bettany ever found out, and having found out complained to Ray Robertson, his boss, Barnard knew the situation could become very uncomfortable indeed. It was best not to hang around in this undeniably comfortable luxury too long.

  ‘So, did you glean any inkling what Ray is up to in Notting Hill?’ he asked, as soon as they were comfortably ensconced in Shirley’s vast kitchen sipping coffee at the breakfast table. ‘It’s an odd place for him to be doing business.’

  ‘Fred’s not very happy about it, apparently,’ Shirley said. ‘He doesn’t trust these black gangsters even if Ray does. He says that he’s trying to get a deal to carve the place up like they do with the Maltese in Soho. He wants the protection. He reckons he’s good at that. And he wants to tax the landlords down there. He reckons they’re coining it, packing dozens of families into those big houses. He says there’s nothing quite like that in the West End and he wants a slice. Fred says he’s just being greedy and should steer clear, there’s a lot of aggro down there and there could be a rerun of the riots they had a few years back. I must say it all sounds a bit dodgy to me.’

  ‘Even so, I know for a fact that King Devine came up west to talk to Ray this morning. I actually saw him getting out of a big Cadillac at the Delilah Club. He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t seriously interested in a deal.’

  ‘I suppose you want me to let you know if something definite happens?’

  Barnard leaned towards her with a grin, slipped an arm under her negligee to stroke her breast and kissed her suggestively. ‘You know I do,’ he said. ‘But I know you don’t mind.’

  Shirley drained her cup and returned the kiss with interest. ‘Come back upstairs,’ she said. ‘And I’ll see if you deserve it.’

  Shirley Bettany threw Barnard out of the house by ten, concerned that her husband would already be on his way home. But when he started the Capri, his mind was still racing and instead of heading along the north side of the Heath towards his own flat, he headed through Hampstead village and the substantial North London suburbs until he crossed the Harrow Road and entered the starkly different world of Notting Dale. The pavements were still crowded and the cafes and pubs doing a good trade as he drove slowly west, but when he got as far as Portobello Road he noticed clusters of white youths on the street corners, especially around Nelson Mackintosh’s cafe, Poor Man’s Corner.

  He parked a couple of blocks away and strolled slowly back towards the cafe casting an unfriendly eye over the drifting youths but not seeing anyone dressed as Kate had described her attackers. He glanced down the side street towards Mackintosh’s cafe and was slightly surprised
to see two uniformed officers standing outside. He strolled in that direction and was relieved to see that they were not part of yet another raid. Inside the cafe was full and appeared to be functioning normally.

  ‘They let him out then,’ he said to the older of the two bored looking constables. ‘What are you here again for?’

  ‘To stop the local youth tearing the place apart,’ the officer said. ‘We should have closed it down but some clever lawyer’s got him out and thinks he can get him off.’

  ‘Doesn’t look as if the locals agree,’ Barnard said mildly, nodding towards the youths on the street corner.

  ‘They think hanging’s too good for him, and I can’t say I blame them. We’ll regret getting rid of the rope when we’ve got beggars like this around. Nothing but trouble round here since they got off the boat.’

  ‘I’m looking for a gang of white lads who scared my girlfriend yesterday,’ he said. ‘Late teens, mod gear. Have you seen anyone like that tonight?’

  ‘There’s lots of them about, mate,’ the officer said. ‘Try the Roma coffee bar up the Gate, by Macfisheries. That’s where some of the mods hang out.’

  Barnard nodded non-committally and moved on. But he took the constables advice, picked up the car and drove the short distance to Notting Hill Gate and parked outside the Roma, alongside a phalanx of scooters. Inside, it was crowded with teenagers in exactly the sort of gear Kate had described so he pushed through the door into the steamy atmosphere, flashed his warrant card at the young man behind the bar before turning towards the tables where the conversation quickly ebbed away.

  ‘Police,’ he said loudly and the noise petered out into an uneasy silence. ‘Someone here, or someone you know, made threats to my girlfriend yesterday,’ he went on more mildly. ‘She’s a photographer. She lives round here and you may have seen her out and about taking a few snaps. I just want you all to know that I’m looking for whoever frightened her and I won’t stop looking till I’ve found them. If anyone’s got anything to tell me I’ll be in my car outside for the next half hour. Don’t be shy.’ And he pushed his way out again through the crowded tables where no one at all met his eye. And although he waited outside the coffee bar far longer than he had promised, watching as youngsters drifted out and puttered away on their Lambrettas, no one at all came anywhere near his Capri.

  In the end he thumped the steering wheel in frustration and roared away up the main road towards Hyde Park as if speed limits had never been invented. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would raise hell at Notting Hill nick. He had been tiptoeing round this mess for far too long.

  SIXTEEN

  Barnard was as good as his word, although slightly more circumspect than he had felt in the small hours of the previous night, when his usually sound sleep was disturbed by anxiety for Kate. Getting up early, and adopting a calm which was no more than skin deep, he had arranged to meet DS Eddie Lamb in the Sun in Splendour at lunchtime the next day, far enough from Notting Hill nick to be unobtrusive and a busy enough spot, with the market in full swing outside, for them to be safely concealed at a corner table in the crowded lounge bar.

  ‘Cheers,’ Lamb said as he picked up the pint which Barnard had just placed in front of him. ‘What’s all this hole-in-corner stuff about, then?’

  ‘Kate O’Donnell,’ Barnard said. ‘I saw her this morning. She works in Frith Street, right in the middle of my patch.’

  ‘That’s handy,’ Lamb said equably. ‘I saw her myself last night as it happens. Didn’t she tell you? I was going to give you a bell and ask you to sort her out. I told her to keep a low profile with that camera of hers, if you must know. It’s a bit volatile out there since they let our murder suspect out. I don’t want her sparking a riot with that bloody camera. There’s a lot of beggars out there who don’t want their picture taken. Can’t you get her to stop?’

  ‘I did ask her to be careful, as it happens. She ran into a few of your local bully boys and they gave her a hard time. And she hadn’t enough confidence in you lot to even come and tell you about it. She cried on my shoulder instead.’

  ‘And I guess you loved that,’ Lamb said, downing his pint quickly. ‘Another?’

  ‘Half,’ Barnard said, glancing at his watch. ‘There’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve got another date with your boss at two, courtesy of my DCI. I’m to tell him the latest we’ve got on Ray Robertson and King Devine. I discovered they had a meet yesterday and seem to be getting very lovey-dovey. Robertson seems determined to muscle in on the protection racket, and include some of the rack-renting landlords in his target group. Apparently the tiddlers round here aren’t turning over enough to make it worthwhile to bother with them, not like the Soho porn shops and strip joints who fleece the punters dry. Hopefully I’ll know a bit more later today when my informant gets in touch. But you might like to chat up some landlords to see if they’ve been approached yet. I hear there’s someone bought up Rachman’s houses now he’s gone.’

  ‘Lazlo Roman? Yeah, we know about him. Claims he’s doing people a favour cramming them into these crumbling old ruins. What’s your girlfriend doing living in a place like that anyway?’

  ‘She knew no better when she arrived, and she had friends there who’ve given her a sofa,’ Barnard said. ‘She’s learned a bit better now and she and her friends are looking for a new place. But that’s not easy. Anyway, I’d better be off, or I’ll be late for Slim Hickman. And he won’t like that.’

  ‘Right,’ Lamb said, draining his glass. ‘I’ll see what I can do to keep your little lady safe, if you tell her to keep that bloody camera out of sight. Deal?’

  ‘Deal,’ Barnard said reluctantly as he got to his feet. His mate’s heart might be in the right place on this one, he thought, but he doubted whether anyone else at Notting Hill nick gave a toss for Kate’s safety. When push came to shove, it was still down to him.

  Barnard was back at his desk later that afternoon, after delivering his not-very-welcome information to DCI Hickman, who had glowered over his several chins for the whole ten minutes he had granted him, and asked almost nothing of relevance about Ray Robertson from the one person inside the Metropolitan Police who had known him for most of his life. The whole trip had been pretty much a waste of time, he thought, shuffling through his in tray irritably.

  ‘Cheer up, Flash, it may never happen,’ one of his colleagues offered as he passed him by.

  Barnard gave him a faint smile, sure that in fact something would happen and it was unlikely to be good. He wondered what was preventing Shirley Bettany from making her promised call, but it was not until five that afternoon that his phone rang and he heard her voice.

  ‘Fred’s been at home all day in his study,’ Shirley said without preamble. ‘They sealed a deal yesterday apparently with the West Indian. Fred says Ray’s very happy, though I couldn’t get much more out of him. They’ve still to arrange the details but it seems Ray is going to concentrate on protection and leave the girls and porn to Devine. And Devine’s got a sideline in drugs apparently, which Ray doesn’t want anything to do with. But from your point of view it doesn’t look good. Ray’s empire has just about doubled in size. And he’s definitely going for the landlords, at Devine’s suggestion. Though some of them are proving resistant, apparently, so I’ve no doubt there’ll be some mayhem before they fall into line.’

  ‘Great,’ Barnard said. ‘Thanks, honey. I’ll see you soon, OK?’

  ‘Very soon,’ Shirley said, her voice husky. ‘I’ll call you.’

  Barnard tilted his chair back, careful not to crush his jacket draped over the back, and whistled tunelessly between his teeth, trying to work out the implications of what he had just been told. Ray Robertson’s writ already ran from Bethnal Green to the West End, and had now taken a giant leap into West London where, he had no doubt, he would immediately set to work to sideline Devine and take control. On past form, even without his more ruthless brother at his side, he would probably succeed. And the implic
ations of that were alarming. The time was rapidly coming when he would have to go up the line and tell the brass at the top exactly what he knew.

  Kate came out of the tube station that evening and glanced around the busy pavements for Tess, who had promised to meet her outside Macfisheries at six to do some shopping before they went to the empty house they still reluctantly called home. But she could see no sign of her friend. Something must have delayed her, she thought, waiting to cross the main road and wondering whether to wait for a while or head towards Argyll Gardens on her own and meet Tess coming the other way towards the shops.

  But she was not given much time to consider her options. She realised as she began to cross the road that two men were falling into step beside her, pushing close to her so that she had no room to manoeuvre. She glanced around wildly but no one in the hurrying mass of home-going workers seemed to have noticed anything amiss and as they all stepped onto the pavement a dark car pulled quickly into the kerb beside Kate and the back door swung open. She opened her mouth to shout for help but a hand was placed over it before she could draw breath and she found herself bundled into the back seat with a man on each side of her as the car swung quickly back into the traffic, cutting up a bus whose driver hooted furiously as he had to brake sharply to avoid them. The car ignored a red light and accelerated down Holland Park Avenue and turned into Ladbroke Grove, the bus receding fast behind them. Kate swallowed hard to keep down the panic which threatened to overwhelm her.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she whispered. She recognised the two men without difficulty as the thugs who were terrorising tenants, though this time without the dog which was normally at their side.

  ‘You’re g–g–going to take some pictures you promised,’ the man she now knew as Stuttering Stan said. ‘You g–g–got your camera, have you?’

  She nodded. ‘King Devine?’