The Singhing Detective

by M. C. Dutton

  The dogs had been taken away and rewarded and all officers left were in a heightened state of anger and each wanted to be the one to find out who had done this to one of them. Everyone would work 24 hours if necessary to find whatever there was to find in this part of the forest. Sharon said the CCTV had shown the Land Rover back to Ilford Lane and was then lost when it went down some back roads. CCTV was being looked at in the whole region in case it reappeared on a CCTV route.

  It was all looking like a murder set up by either the Triads or Snakeheads using the Asian murder squad who appeared to have left the country. Jazz said he would go and talk to his contact in case he had heard anything of interest. Tom was going back to Ilford Police Station to find out if anything interesting had come out of the interviews with the gang members picked up that morning. He knew there was nothing because he would have been sent a message but now was not the time to be negative. Someone somewhere knew what had happened here and why. DCI Johnny Radley would visit Mrs Sepple and give her the bad news about Tony as soon as he was properly identified. Everyone knew it was him; his wallet was on him and contained all his details and police badge. His mobile phone was found turned off in an inside pocket. It was Tony.

  Sharon asked Jazz if she could meet him later for a talk and a drink. She just didn’t want to be alone. He nodded and said he would meet her in the Valentine Pub at Gants Hill. It was away from work but close to where they both lived. No one knew them there and they could talk in peace. He figured by 8 p.m. he would be free and she nodded that she would see him then.

  He looked at his watch, it was 6 p.m. now and he needed to move himself to get to see Bam Bam. He was told to report with Tom and Sharon to DCI Radley’s office in the morning at 8 a.m. sharp to consolidate information. Of course, he added, if anything came up that he needed to know urgently, they should call him on his mobile. He said he would be available any time, day or night. Jazz was beginning to like this man more and more. He was a policeman’s policeman. He went over to Jenny and thanked her for coming and said he would see her tomorrow. Jenny grabbed his arm and squeezed it. Words were not needed; she tried to smile but neither of them could go that far.

  TONY’S LEGACY

  Jazz found Bam Bam still at his office. His car was sitting resplendently outside his office. It was beautifully polished and glistening. He rang the bell and waited for the usual response. He could see the security camera move direction slightly so that it pointed directly at his face. Bam Bam would be watching him standing there. He would enjoy it more if Jazz squirmed a little but Jazz stood still and tall and waited. The door was opened by the usual heavy who asked him what he wanted and told him to wait until he found out if Mr Bamra was available. He shut the door and left Jazz on the doorstep waiting. It was all the usual bullshit. Jazz refused to feel irritated by this, he knew it would show in his face. In fact, he lit a cigarette and turned his back on the camera. The bastard can’t watch my face now, he thought. After a few minutes, a disconnected voice from the intercom attached to the wall said he could come in and the door was opened by another heavy employed by Bam Bam. He looked like he could stop bullets. The man was so big all he could do was sashay along the corridor towards the room Bam Bam was in. Jazz felt positively skinny behind him. He told himself never to upset the likes of him.

  He was welcomed by “I have just heard, they have found your DC Sepple.” Jazz was going to ask who told him because it was still under wraps until Mrs Sepple had been told but Bam Bam swiftly carried on the conversation. “I have been making enquiries all day to find out who actually employed the Asian squad. It would seem that the Triads and Snakeheads joined forces on this.” Jazz asked why he had not been included in this because he was part of the Holy Trinity. Bam Bam shifted awkwardly in his chair. “I have nothing to do with the drug war and so they haven’t bothered to include me in any of it. I have to say, when I found out, I was most put out to be excluded. It doesn’t do my business any good to look like I am not part of the Holy Trinity but they are welcome to all the problems they have got now.”

  “No one is talking, Bam Bam. All the gang members have been interviewed today and they all have alibis. How am I going to break this? All the Viets have been killed including their leader, Tran Tan Giap, in the warehouse. The Viets are finished now, so who can I get for ordering the killings?” Jazz had thrown out the request and waited to see what came back. He should have waited quietly but the anger and frustration welled up and he jumped to his feet and thumped the desk in front of Bam Bam. Jazz shouted “They killed my DC, Tony, they killed a police officer, my officer, for no reason. I want whoever did this, I want them badly, now.” Jazz was fed up with being pushed and pulled and having to be respectful to the piece of scum in front of him, enough was enough, it had to stop now. Something wasn’t right here, Bam Bam knew more than he was telling and there was no way he would continue to go along with this charade of pretending to be respectful to this lump of shit.

  Jazz stood taut with rage and through gritted teeth he was unable to hide the venom in his voice. “The Asian squad would not have killed Tony without orders. Someone ordered them to do it and I want to know who. You know who did this. You owe me, Bam Bam, and I am calling in the debt now. I want a name and I want to know where they are is now.” He banged the table again for effect. Now hot with rage and breathless with shouting, Jazz waited for an answer and he wanted a damn good answer.

  In the silence, the door opened and the huge ape of a man entered to see if all was alright. Bam Bam waved him away and he left, closing the door quietly. He tried to be placatory; he smiled sweetly at Jazz and said how he understood how difficult and sad this was for him. As he was about to order tea for them both, Jazz again slammed his fist on the table and leaned forward until he was barely a millimetre away from Bam Bam. Their noses almost touched as they stared at each other in a stand off.

  Bam Bam sat back, unused to being treated in this disrespectful and unforgiving manner. He looked at Jazz and saw a broken man. He sighed, he would let the disrespect go for now. He said he would have a name and address for Jazz by the morning. Jazz wanted to know if he was being put off but Bam Bam protested loudly that he was almost sure he knew who the man was but it could also be another as well and he needed to find out for sure and where they were. Certain people were in hiding, he confided to Jazz. By now, Jazz was looking as if he could kill him and said, again through gritted teeth, that he wanted the information by 9 a.m. tomorrow morning and not a minute later. He was soothingly assured he would have it by then. Bam Bam pressed the button under his desk; he wanted Jazz out of his office now. The door opened and Jazz was shown to the door by the heavy. He could hear Bam Bam in the distance shouting for someone to get into his office now! He hoped that meant Bam Bam was working straight away on finding the men who ordered Tony’s death.

  Exhausted, defeated and feeling dreadful, Jazz headed towards the Valentine Public House in Gants Hill. He got there about 7.30 p.m. and decided to buy a bottle of vodka in the small off licence beside the pub. He needed it to help him sleep tonight. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day and he would need all his strength to keep going. The niggles in the back of his head were scratching away and he knew he had to keep a grip. The breakdown last time had started with the niggles in his head. They were just tiresome to start with but eventually they consumed him and took him over. He didn’t want to go there again.

  He ordered a large vodka tonic and found a seat out the back where he could have a cigarette as well and waited for Sharon. She arrived about 8.30 p.m., just as Jazz was downing his fourth double vodka tonic. She saw his drink and went and ordered a vodka and orange for herself. He muttered he would get it but he looked like he wouldn’t move very quickly. She could see he had downed a few and she didn’t blame him. She wanted to get rat arsed as well, just for tonight. She wanted to forget everything.

  He looked up as she returned with a drink and some crisps. Almost apologising, she said she hadn’t had
anything to eat for most of the day. He said they could get a takeaway if she wanted. Without looking up from her drink, she told him there had been no progress in finding the Land Rover. It had just gone off the radar. The stuffing had been knocked out of both of them tonight. They had another drink. The silence was broken by Sharon taking a deep breath and suggesting he came back to her place in Chadwell Heath. She said it was just a small flat and they could pick up a takeaway. She added that she didn’t want to be alone tonight. He asked if she had any orange juice at her home. She nodded. “In that case,” he showed her the bag he had under the table, “it’s back to your place and we’ll get pissed.” The cab rank was just around the corner and they walked unsteadily toward it. They saw a Chinese restaurant on the corner and they went in for some rice and spare ribs. Neither cared what they ate as long as it was something. After 10 minutes, with plastic bag in hand they tottered to the taxi rank. It took all of 15 minutes to get to Sharon’s flat. It was one of those new blocks that seemed to spring up quickly just off Chadwell Heath high road.

  It was tiny with a kitchen at one end of the lounge. He supposed it was good for one person but with low ceilings and walls close together, he felt claustrophobic. He reckoned his one room off the Drive felt bigger than this. There again, he didn’t have a kitchen, just a fridge and kettle and he didn’t have a bathroom, he used the one on the landing. Sharon was busy finding glasses and plates and he could hear her rummaging through a cutlery drawer. She was making excuses for the mess. He looked around. He didn’t think a cup on a table and a few magazines constituted a mess. He thought she should see his room. He looked around. It was all white and sterile. There were no pictures on the walls and even the settee was white leather. She was no homemaker.

  For a moment, he was deep in thought, somewhere between his mother and Alice. They were homemakers, he thought. He was rudely pulled out of his thoughts by Sharon tapping him on the shoulder and telling him to come and sit down to eat. He saw she had laid the table. He thought they were going to sit on the settee and watch TV but no way was that going to happen. The radio had been turned on and was playing something soft as she poured him a drink. He looked down and saw she had taken the bag with the vodka in it. He sat down opposite her and felt good for a moment. It had been a long time since he had played mothers and fathers in this way and it relaxed him. He picked up the paper serviette she had laid by his plate and smiled a thank you. She ruefully smiled back. Nothing was said between them as they ate and drank.

  It was an hour later, after a few more large vodkas, that the tears and laughter started. They cried for Tony, they laughed at things he had done and then cried some more. They cursed and swore at the bastards who had killed him and fervently hoped he hadn’t suffered too much. They blamed themselves and each protested that they were to blame and not the other. It turned into a snotty argument on whose fault it was and they nearly came to blows as tempers reached a height.

  The drink, the emotion and the tiredness overcame them. They staggered to her bedroom. Jazz wasn’t thinking clearly and just wanted to lie down and sleep. She told him in slurred syllables that she was knackered and just wanted to sleep. In the dark, they stumbled to the bed and undressed. As they lay together, suddenly naked, the warmth of a caress and the heat of an embrace made them both cry silently. They fell asleep holding each other tightly. It was three hours later that he woke and roused her. They made love quietly and gently.

  WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

  He opened his eyes, wondering what woke him. Then he heard the snoring beside him. “Jesus Christ!” he whispered to himself through clenched teeth. He looked to the ceiling and asked himself, “What the fuck have I done?” This shouldn’t have happened, he broke his golden rule. Never ever be on the job with a woman in the job. For a brief second, he agonised about how this was going to be put right. His eyes darted as he thought and landed on the alarm clock. He sat up with such a start that it woke her. The mayhem started.

  It was bloody 7.30 a.m. and they had to be in DCI Radley’s office at buggeringly 8 a.m. He couldn’t find his fucking underpants or his sodding socks. Sharon was rushing around washing and getting dressed. She brushed her hair furiously. In 10 minutes they were both dressed and washed. He would shave later, his 6 o’clock shadow was very dark but it would have to wait. As they gathered bags and he checked his change for a cab, he turned and quietly said, “It was great, but it never happened.” She understood and nodded silently. She wished he hadn’t said that but she knew she couldn’t have him. It had been wonderful and the lovemaking was so sweet and tender it almost made her cry as she remembered. He saw her face contort with tearful embarrassment, and he hugged her and whispered, “It was wonderful, thank you. But we work together, so it can never happen again.” He hesitated for a second and added, “I will never forget last night, it was magic.” In a second the mood changed and they dashed out the door to hail a cab. She blinked back the tears as they sped towards Ilford Police Station. The booze had held back some of the emotion last night but today it felt like a dam about to burst. She had to keep control.

  When they arrived at the police station, he told her to go in first. He would pay the cab and follow in a few minutes. He didn’t want everyone to know they arrived together; there would be too much talk. He was kidding himself. Of course they were spotted and the gossip had started before she got to the crime room. He didn’t have a hangover but he felt decidedly jaded. The meeting was going to be deeply depressing but it had to be done. He would visit Bam Bam afterwards. He hoped he would give him the names that would get this solved. He wanted to find Tony’s killers so badly it hurt.

  He could hear the low hum of many voices as he walked along the corridor. A feeling of dread passed through him, he had to face them. As he entered, he could see the room was full. Every Detective Constable and Detective Inspector in the region was there. Normally when teams were called together there were always the jibes and banter of rivalry together with the jokes and raucous laughter. But today was a sombre gathering. One of their own had been killed and no one likes a cop killer. It had become the number one task for everyone in the police station. Nothing else mattered. If the petty crooks had an inkling of this, street robbery and shoplifting and burglary would be rife. There were officers lounging on desks and the chairs were moved to make room for more bodies than were normally together for a briefing. They were all squeezed in with more goodwill than was normal.

  The noise level dropped suddenly as Jazz entered the room. He had been here before and knew why and what they had been saying about him and Tony’s murder. He understood because he too felt responsible for Tony’s death and it was the same the last time. He had hoped he would never again experience the feelings of such hopelessness and despair that dragged his soul into his boots. Again, he took all the blame and again he felt alone. He had to get through this. He would find Tony’s killers, if he did nothing else in his life, he would do that. He had never found John’s killers and, damn it, for the second time he had shown himself to be a total loser!

  He mentally shook himself back to reality and looked around the room with tacit assurance. For now he had to carry on and, with this in mind, he smiled at everyone and said good morning brightly to show he didn’t have a problem with the looks of faintly hidden scorn pushed in his direction. The eyes watched him in silence as he walked, shoulders back, head held high and with more dignity than he felt. His eyes searched and found Sharon standing in the corner of the room; he went and joined her. At this moment, she was the only friend he had and he wasn’t sure if he had messed that up after last night. Today felt a very black day and he hoped it would get better. Thank God he remembered in the rush this morning to fill his two hip flasks. He knew he would need a few slugs of vodka to keep him going today.

  They all waited for DCI Radley to make an appearance. There was no fanfare but a slamming of the door and a stack of files and papers walked into the room. As the table was cleared
to make room for the files, which were deposited with a grunt, everyone saw it was Detective Chief Inspector Radley. Now divested of the plethora of files, he raised himself to his optimum height and commanded everyone around him to be quiet and listen.

  Tom Black joined him at the front and Jazz was beckoned to come forward by an irritated DCI Radley. “Come on man, don’t just stand there.” This was not what Jazz wanted at all. He wanted to hide away from the accusing eyes but with more self-assurance than he had thought he could muster, he walked to the front beside Tom Black. It was going to be a very long meeting, going over all the facts and dissecting every bit of information.

  They started with Alice and finding her body and progressed to all the Vietnamese bodies they had found and the ones in the canal identified as Snakehead and the Triad men. It was a horrible mess and they had no one to pin this all on. It was noted that the two who murdered Alice had been found dead, electrocuted in a cannabis factory. They ploughed through every bit of evidence and when everyone was up to speed with exactly what had gone on over the last few days, they all settled to discuss Tony. This was why so many officers were here: Tony, who they now knew was killed by a gang of Asian hit men. The Asians had been brought into the country to kill and destroy the Vietnamese who had set up cannabis factories in the East End. It would appear that all the Vietnamese gang had been rounded up and killed in the warehouse. A footnote was added that it was believed they had all been killed and intelligence could find no reason to believe anyone escaped.

  Back to Tony; the question was asked why? Why was he killed? What was he doing in Forest Gate and why didn’t anyone know he was there?

  Tom Black summed up what his team had been doing: Interviewing the Snakehead and Triad gang members. He said all had alibis. Funnily enough, he told everyone present, it would appear the Triads were all together with their local newspaper reporter. “Apparently,” and he spat the words out, “Charlie Wong has donated a vast amount of money to fund a drop in centre for the disaffected youth in the East End.” He was going red in the face and boiling at the thought “The fucking bastard is only setting up a good place to ply his drugs and the bloody bastard press have given him rave reviews.” He pulled himself together and added, “Freddie Chow from the Snakeheads had all his men conveniently in view at the races at Yarmouth. Why the hell the bastards were there I have no idea but they were far enough away for no one to be able to slip away for 10 minutes and shoot the bloody opposition.” Tom’s voice had risen to a crescendo and he needed to calm down. “Finally, Bam Bam’s mob were at the Gurdwara for some religious do and there are lots of witnesses to say they stayed and no one left.” He looked around, sighed and added unnecessarily, “So, we are all up shit creek without a fucking paddle on this one.”