Cold Killers

by Lee Weeks

  Jo stopped her work, held her breath, as she listened to Billy going to answer the second knock at the front door.

  ‘Hello again, Mr Manson.’ Jo was about to grab the children and run when she heard Billy reply, ‘Inspector?’

  ‘You remember my colleague, DS Willis?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can we come in, please? We thought we’d better come down here in person and explain why we can’t allow you to go to Thailand,’ Carter said as he took a step inside the front door.

  ‘Come in, follow me.’ Manson led them inside the chic modern home with an abundance of white walls and wooden floors, large feature windows and exposed steel beams. Carter took off his shoes; Willis reluctantly did the same. Manson was barefooted. The floor was heated beneath the hardwood.

  Manson led them into a long room with a gable end. It had a white pod-shaped wood burner that was built into the centre of the room. They sat near it on Scandinavian-looking furniture that was more comfortable than it looked. Expensive art that Carter couldn’t understand, and would never have bought, hung in huge canvases on the feature walls.

  ‘What was the problem with us spending Christmas abroad?’ asked Manson, sitting on the edge of the sofa. He was visibly nervous. He hadn’t washed his hair in a few days. He looked exhausted. He was wearing scruffy tracksuit bottoms and a dirty T-shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry, but it was necessary.’ Carter smiled.

  ‘Am I a suspect?’

  ‘You have a lovely home. Did you build it?’ Carter asked, looking around.

  ‘I had a hand in it, yes, thank you. You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘No, because that’s tricky. I’d like to give you the chance of telling us the truth first. You weren’t a suspect yesterday until we did a bit of digging and now we are reconsidering our position.’

  ‘Truth? About what?’

  ‘Let’s start with the Thailand trip. Where were you and your family going to stay?’

  Manson blushed crimson at the same time as he half laughed and shook his head. ‘What relevance does this have? What does it matter where we were going to stay?’

  ‘Because you haven’t been completely honest about your assets.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you that I owned a house out there? What does that matter? You never asked me.’

  ‘No, that’s true, but then we discovered this was one of many properties that you’d bought outright in the last eighteen months and we were wondering whether they were funded by the many companies you’d set up to supply materials to Paradise Villas.’

  ‘The short answer to that is yes. I have some interests in other companies. These provide me with extra income. As I told you, I only have a five per cent share in Paradise Villas. It doesn’t bring in the profit that it used to.’

  ‘So you branched out?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Seems like the sensible thing to have done.’

  ‘Yes, and I have a good accountant who gives me good advice and I have offshore bank accounts. Nothing I do is illegal.’

  ‘Did Eddie know about these connections?’

  ‘Of course. He thought it was great that we knew where the goods were coming from. We could control the quality.’

  ‘Must have been time-consuming, setting all that up.’

  ‘It was. Which is why I ended up buying places out in Asia, South America.’

  ‘You have a place in Mexico, is that right? That’s not a place I associate with furniture.’

  ‘It’s on the coast. It’s a base for me to source things from.’ ‘What things?’ Carter smiled.

  ‘Bespoke art pieces. I have someone who makes bronzes of polo ponies in Argentina. I have a modern Aztec design company in Peru.’

  ‘Anything from Colombia? You have friends from there, I think.’

  As Manson shook his head slowly he was trying to hide the understanding from his expression.

  ‘Marco Zapata?’

  ‘Who? I don’t know that name, sorry.’

  ‘You’ve never met with a man called that?’

  Manson was shaking his head but his face had paled as he was pretending to search his memory. He tapped his fingers together nervously.

  ‘I don’t think I should say any more at this point. I don’t know where this is leading but it doesn’t feel comfortable.’

  ‘This is just a friendly chat to clear the air, Mr Manson. It can all be sorted here and now if you cooperate. If you insist on denying what we already know to be true, then we’re going to have to continue this discussion down at the police station. It’s up to you. If you have nothing to hide, then what are you so nervous about?’

  ‘I am nervous because I am suddenly in a world I know nothing about. Eddie Butcher died a horrible death and I am scared for me and my family. That’s why I wanted to go to Thailand, just in the hope you might have caught whoever did it by the time we came back. My wife is close to a breakdown because she’s so scared.’

  ‘What have you decided to do, now that the family are taking over?’

  Manson shook his head, he seemed calmer. ‘I haven’t decided yet. I’ll wait and see.’

  ‘What about all the fixtures and fittings you make, the teak furnishings and the rest of it? Won’t they need to be sold?’

  ‘I only manufacture to order.’

  Carter showed Manson the photo of him with the mystery man from the cafe. ‘Who is this?’

  Manson contemplated shaking his head but spluttered out the name Justino.

  ‘Justino who?’

  Manson shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know anything more about him; he was a contact from a Peruvian artefacts company. They wanted me to buy some of their works, but I didn’t bother in the end.’

  ‘Do you have a number for him?’ asked Willis.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t bother keeping it. Who is he? Why was my photo taken with him?’

  ‘We’re just looking into any strangers in the area, that’s all.’ Willis answered.

  ‘Okay, well thanks for your time,’ said Carter. ‘Sorry we couldn’t help with the Thailand thing. If we had got a bit further in the investigation and if people were a bit more forthcoming, then it might have been different. Getting information from anyone who knew Eddie Butcher is like pulling teeth. Still I expect you know that already. We’ll keep you informed. If you think of anything you reckon can help this investigation, then contact us.’ Carter handed Manson a card. ‘The sooner we solve this the sooner you can get on with your life and, if you are contacted by Marco Zapata again, please ring me straight away.’

  Manson stood, nodding, looking relieved and very eager to be left alone.

  Once they had driven out of sight Willis turned to Carter: ‘I’d like to take another look in the warehouse. I want to check on any activity there. I’ve sent Robbo the name Justino to see what he can find out.’

  ‘The Peruvian artefacts company sounded like crap – but the name Justino may just be the truth. We’ll go to the warehouse now, no problem,’ answered Carter. ‘It’s only twenty minutes’ drive.’

  ‘But, we don’t have a search warrant,’ Willis said. ‘I’ll be in Spain tomorrow.’

  ‘Then we’ll try being nice to the security guard and see where it gets us. Leave it to me to do the talking. We know where your charms get us.’ He looked over and winked. She shook her head smiling. ‘One of these days I’ll surprise you and I’ll charm the pants off someone.’

  ‘Live in hope, Willis. Live in hope.’

  ‘We won’t be long in there, it’s just something we need to check. We’ll bring the keys straight back. Thanks, mate,’ Carter said as the security guard opened the gate for them.

  ‘It’s okay. It’s empty, anyway. They’ve moved all the stock.’

  ‘When did that happen?’

  ‘Billy Manson did it last night. By the time my shift ended at eight in the morning, it was all gone.’

  ‘Where did it go? Do you know?’ asked Willis.

  ‘
No idea, sorry. Must have been fairly local because he made two trips.’

  ‘Okay, thanks, mate.’ Carter handed the keys across to Willis as they drove in and parked. Willis went round to the boot and took out her scenes of crime kit. She picked up some booties to cover their shoes.

  ‘Empty,’ said Carter. As they stood in the cold warehouse, their breath came out white as Willis shone her torch around the inside.

  Willis handed Carter a pair of the booties.

  ‘What are we doing here again?’ He sighed at the prospect of getting down and searching the dirt floor.

  ‘I’m just curious, now that the boxes have gone.’

  ‘Okay, fair enough. Do you need me? Can I go and be curious elsewhere?’

  ‘I can manage.’

  ‘Okay, well I’ll go back and chat to the security guard and see if he can remember anything else. Call me if you need me.’

  Carter walked back out of the building, putting the booties into the car as he passed. ‘So, mate, it’s lucky you’ve got a heater in there. Talk about freezing. You always do night shifts, do you?’

  ‘Yeah, you get used to it. Although it’s a bit boring.’ The security guard was in his late forties; he looked like he had been in the forces at some point. He had a tattoo on his neck that was a badly drawn Betty Boop. His face had more lines than it should have, but he had an uprightness about him that said: military, meltdown, second chance.

  ‘What do you do all night?’ asked Carter, genuinely curious. He had hated working on surveillance in his time. Some people were good at just observing, Carter was not. He loved to talk. He was easily distracted.

  ‘I talk to the dog mostly.’

  ‘Where’s the dog?’ Carter looked around, a shot of adrenalin crossed his heart. He hated guard dogs. He’d been bitten by an Alsatian once and the more he moved the more it tore at the flesh of his leg.

  ‘He’s off sick. I’ve left him at home. Apart from that, I read a lot.’

  ‘So, last night, when Manson was here, must have made a welcome change. Gave you something to look at, at least.’

  ‘Yeah, it was a bit random, moving stuff in the middle of the night. He turned up here at half three. But, it’s not the first time he’s done that.’

  ‘On his own?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Must have been something to move all those boxes on his own?’

  ‘He has a mini-forklift. He’s used to it. We get a load arriving every month.’

  ‘Have you seen where the things come from?’

  ‘From a lot of places. But a lot of the time they come from Spain, Amsterdam. They’re part of a container load.’

  ‘Which all ends up here before it’s sent off to build villas?’

  ‘I don’t know about that. From here the stuff in the warehouse gets taken by Manson somewhere, must be the same place, I reckon. It takes him about the same time to do the offloading and delivery every time.’

  ‘Does Eddie ever do it?’

  ‘I’ve never seen Eddie even be here when the warehouse is emptied. Usually when Eddie’s here there’s just an empty space in there.’

  ‘Could you hazard a guess where he took them last night?’

  ‘Well, it takes him a good hour to load it, must take him the same to unload it the other end. He’s gone for about two to three hours. There are lots of industrial estates he could shift it to, I suppose, or maybe it’s a lockup somewhere. I’ve got no real idea, sorry.’

  ‘What about the van? Is it his?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m sure about that. I can give you the number plate for that because we have to register all that kind of thing.’ He checked in his book and wrote it down on a piece of paper. ‘Here we are, make, model, number. Hope that helps.’

  ‘You’ve been great, thanks, mate.’ Carter looked over to where Willis was locking up the warehouse. ‘Hope the dog feels better soon.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  Carter walked back across to the car. Willis was putting her bag back in the boot.

  ‘Interesting,’ Carter said as he flashed his headlights and waved at the security guard.

  ‘I found nothing that looked promising,’ answered Willis as she checked her phone to see the time.

  ‘You want dropping straight home, or do you have time for a drink?’

  ‘Need to go home, sorry. You must be feeling better.’

  ‘What way?’

  ‘Your man flu?’

  ‘Yes, cracked it now. Just not keen on the empty-flat syndrome.’

  ‘Now, there’s an admission. I might just make Cabrina’s day and tell her what you just said.’

  ‘You wouldn’t?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘It’s just that you’d think I’d be able to sleep being alone in the flat. But no. I’m lying there staring at the ceiling.’

  ‘Do you really want to go for a drink? I can spare the time.’

  ‘No, get out of here! I’m okay. You’re right, you probably have to be gone early in the morning.’

  ‘I have to leave the house at five thirty to be precise.’

  ‘Shit, that’s not funny. I’m okay, Eb, honestly. I’ll take you home now, then I’ll get on with some work.’

  Carter dropped Willis off and drove just a few streets before he pulled over and checked his phone. He sent off a couple of texts and then he rang Chief Inspector Bowie.

  ‘What’s up?’ Bowie asked.

  ‘Nothing, just thought you might fancy a pint.’

  ‘Sorry, headed home. What time’s the meeting tomorrow?’

  ‘I’m waiting for an update from Robbo on a few things, but I’ll be in early.’

  Carter finished the call to Bowie, then he called Robbo.

  ‘We had an interesting visit to Billy Manson’s house in the Kent countryside, and we also went to his warehouse tonight. Manson’s doing something he didn’t want Eddie to know about. Whether it’s just making money on the side, supplementing his income, or something more, I don’t know. I’m going to text you over the details on a white van that Manson uses to move goods from The Paddocks industrial estate. I need you to check where this van was in a radius of about fifty miles from Paradise Villas. We’re looking for a second warehouse or storage facility. For some reason Manson finds it necessary to shift these boxes in the middle of the night. You know what?’

  ‘I’ll start on it now.’

  ‘Do you fancy going for a pint this evening?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m abstaining at the moment but I have plenty of strong coffee and two spare bags of Haribo that I’ve managed to squirrel away from Willis’s greedy eyes, if you feel like company while we work.’

  ‘I’m suddenly very tired.’

  Robbo laughed. ‘You headed straight home, then?’

  ‘Yes, what is it with you, Robbo? You turned into my nanny suddenly?’

  ‘Sorry, just picking up on something Willis said, that’s all, about this investigation being personal for you. You want my opinion about it all?’

  ‘No, not really, but I don’t expect that’s going to stop you.’

  ‘I know how personal this is to you. I remember you two as a couple. You and Della were like two peas in a pod. I remember thinking you were almost like the perfect pair. You were too similar, perhaps, to make it. Della is a female version of you, Dan. You be careful, because she knows how to pull your strings. She always did.’

  ‘I don’t need your advice, thanks.’

  ‘Yes, you do. You remember that she was mercenary, in the end? She chose money over love. She wanted all the things a policeman’s salary could never bring her. Not unless that officer was on the take.’

  ‘She says it was love.’

  ‘Bullshit. She was blinded by cash, not love. I saw it happening. I know how much you loved each other, but she nearly broke you, Dan. Don’t for Christ’s sake let her try and do it again.’

  Chapter 33

  Della walked into Tony’s with Marco beside her. She was wearing
a short dress and heels.

  ‘Debbie and Sandra joining us for dinner?’ she asked, looking around at the empty room. The fake candles had been switched on in the windows. The doors to the verandas were closed against the building gusts of wind that heralded a storm coming.

  ‘Drink!’ he called out at the top of his voice and Sheena appeared, carrying a tray. For Della there was an unopened bottle of Chablis, which Sheena opened and poured into crystal glasses for her and Marco. A bottle of whisky was already on the table for Tony with an ice bucket.

  ‘It’s just us this evening. You look gorgeous, my dear, radiant,’ said Tony, clearly savouring the scene. ‘Please excuse me while I go and change for dinner.’ He hurried away.

  Della went to the music station and chose a playlist.

  ‘Let’s put some music on, shall we? Can you dance, Marco?’

  ‘Me? Sure. I’m from Colombia, remember? All we Latinos can dance.’

  ‘Come on, then, Mr Latino, give me a masterclass.’

  She began moving to the music. He stood, put his glass down and walked over.

  He took hold of her and they began dancing. Della had been to ballroom-dancing classes when she was young. She’d stopped it when she was fourteen but she’d been good and she still was.

  They started to tango and Marco led her around the trophy room. He didn’t notice Tony, who was standing by the entrance, watching mesmerised. He began a slow clap. He still had his shorts on, but he’d put on a white silk shirt, open at the neck, and he had a black Spanish dancer’s hat on his head.

  Della started laughing. Tony came forward to take over from Marco. He made up his own dance – twirling Della around and catching her in his arms. Every time he caught her he tried to kiss her.

  Sandra walked in. ‘Tony!’

  Della allowed herself the chance to catch her breath and stood laughing as she doubled over and fanned her face with her hand.

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  Della just ignored Sandra and allowed Tony to answer.

  ‘Nothing, Mum.’

  ‘What is it, Sandra?’ Della asked with a sweet smile.