CHAPTER 8
Anna's flat was strewn with packing cases and boxes, but at least her shower was hot, and the garage doors opened and closed without any problems. She was at the station by eight-thirty, ready for the briefing session with Cunningham. Before it began, she went to check out with the officers a few of her queries. She got one hit straightaway.One of the cars listed by Jeremy Webster as being parked in the forecourt of the estate was registered to a Miss Ella Douglas. As the car, according to Webster, had not been parked there on the night of the murder, they had not pressed to get the details. One quick phone call to Ella told Anna that Donny had insured the car for her to drive his wife to her various doctors; he had registered it at Ella's address. This was a step forward. It meant that Donny Petrozzo could have been to the drug squat in that car.Anna returned to her office and put in a call to Pete to see if there were any new details on the fingerprints taken from the squat, and whether Donny Petrozzo s were among them. She spoke to one of his assistants. As with the car license plates, it was a slow process of elimination and match. Anna reminded the assistant that they had identified Donny Petrozzo by his fingerprints and that, as they were on record, they could easily check with the data bank. She was told that they had thirty prints being tested. Anna was frustrated by the delays, but knew that forensics had their work cut out for them.Another step forward was that the swipe from the Mitsubishi had now been verified as the same blood type as the blood found on the bullet. Anna marked this detail up on the incident board. There was now a mass of data, with red arrows, linking the evidence gathered to date.Anna was joined by Gordon, who had not found evidence of a marriage certificate issued to Julia Kendal in the UK. He had found out birth dates of her two children from the registration. No father was listed on the birth certificates. Was the marriage to Frank Brandon a sham, as seemed likely now? Why the wedding photographs, then?There was still no postmortem report back from the lab for Donny Petrozzo, as they were waiting for the toxicology report. Nor was there any reference to the drug, Fentanyl, that Pete had mentioned as a possible cause of death. The surveillance report on Julia Brandon offered up no suspicious outings or visitors; however, they had by now gained access to her finances—despite the interference from her accountant, who had tried to block them at every level. Julia Brandon was a lot wealthier than they had first believed.The lists of different accounts and deposit facilities presented them with a maze of names and offshore companies. She had access to big money; however, she was unable to withdraw it without notifications. Some accounts were in her daughters' names, but most were off-the- shelf companies. The ballpark amount, and this was still being assessed, was in the region of fifteen million pounds. Added to these investments was her ownership of properties, including one on the Isle of Wight.Anna sat with the officers who had been assigned the job of digging. They were flabbergasted by the complicated paper trail. Where had this money come from originally? At the moment, they had no idea. What they did have details of, however, was how the money moved around.With the value of the dollar so low, a lot of monies were being moved into accounts in the USA. Then no sooner had the exchange taken place than the money was moved to another bank in another city."It's got to be drug money," Anna said, and the others agreed.They had little on Julia Brandon's previous financial situation, but they had traced a small account in the name of Julia Kendal in Oxford, where she had been born and brought up. Both her parents were deceased, but there was a sister living in a village just outside Stratford-upon-Avon. Honour Kendal was married to Damien Nolan, a professor of chemistry at Oxford. As far as they could ascertain, the Nolans were a respectable married couple. They had no children, nor did they have a property in their name, and money was tight. Academics were badly paid, and Honour did not have a full-time job.At the briefing, Cunningham seemed her usual lackluster self. Arms folded, propped on the end of a desk, she asked the team to give an update. Anna sat through all their findings silent, waiting for her turn."DI Travis, you got anything new for us?"Anna stood up and went to the incident board. "As you can see, I've added some of the information that I have been working on. There s nothing that really stands out, other than the possible links—but again, it could all be coincidental.""Like what?"Anna took a deep breath. "Okay, this is just surmising, as I have to do some cross-checking with Donny Petrozzo's diary and with some items I got from Frank Brandon's fiancee ..."This created a murmur, because no one had heard about any fiancee.Anna pointed to the board, where she had written up Connie's details. "She was very distressed, obviously. What is interesting is that Frank told her that he had some big job on. However, he didn't want her to know what it was; he said only that the job was one that would pay a substantial amount—enough for them to marry and buy a place.""Did you find out anything about this job?" Cunningham interjected."No. All I know is that it was connected to Donny Petrozzo, whom Frank worked for. Frank owned a VW Golf, which we need to trace; itwas not a car to chauffeur clients in. We have him working for Donny up until about six months ago. This takes us back to Julia Brandon. When did they first meet? When, or how, did he start to work for her? We have no UK marriage license. We know he lived at her home in Wimbledon, but it's possible he just slept in the spare bedroom. However, she claims to be his wife: her accountant even arranged a big life insurance policy." Anna referred to her notes. "We need to verify if the money does go to Julia, or whether Frank arranged for his girlfriend to be taken care of, if anything happened to him. If he did, then he was obviously aware of the job being risky." As they had nothing yet from surveillance, Anna suggested that Julia be brought in for further questioning.Anna held the floor as she talked about Julia Brandon's megabucks, and why it didn't quite add up. Cunningham was staring at her. Anna licked her lips, turning over a page in her notebook. "Okay, this is what I'm spinning. If Julia s ex-partner, as we have discussed—or I have, with the chief—could possibly be Alexander Fitzpatrick, then her money is from drug dealing going back twenty or thirty years."There was another murmur around the team: they were not privy to who Fitzpatrick was. Anna gave a brief rundown of his drug-trafficking career, and then continued. "Fitzpatrick has remained on the Most Wanted lists since then, but what if he has returned? Could lie be the man seen in the Mitsubishi? Whoever it was got clipped by a bullet. We now have a match from the bullet and from the jeep. He might even be quite badly wounded—we don't know—but the main query is, if this was the kingpin drug dealer, why return? If he is the money behind Julia, then he could easily live a life of luxury and remain undetected. We also, to date, have no verification as to who exactly owned the Mitsubishi."Cunningham stood up, then sat back down, folding her arms. "Why, if you think he's here, would he want to score from a shithole drug dive?""Maybe he didn't want to score. Maybe there was something inside that drug squat that he wanted.""Like what?" "I don't know. Our big loose end is we still do not know who wasinside that squat. We've been tracing all the owners of the vehicles, and the prints, but they're small fry. We don't have any that would give us a possible reason." Anna could feel the room tense, the officers listening and making notes for themselves.She crossed back to the incident board. "The link is, I believe, Donny Petrozzo. We know he was a smalltime drug dealer, so he would maybe know the guys dealing in the squat." She hesitated; this was all supposition. "What if Donny knew Alexander Fitzpatrick? For us to get confirmation of this, we'll have to go way back into his background and records. In one of Donny's pickups at the various airports, did he collect Fitzpatrick? He would only be in this country for something big, or emotional—which brings me back to Julia Brandon.""Wait a minute." Cunningham shook her head. "Would someone like Fitzpatrick use a lowlife like Donny Petrozzo? I don't think so. I'm really not going along with the suggestion that a man wanted on every country's lists is going to drop into the UK and then hire a smalltime guy like Petrozzo.""Maybe he had no option," said Phil Markham.Anna felt the team was backing her theory, but Cunningham wasn't. She certainly made as much clear when she called the bri
efing to a halt, requesting Julia Brandon be brought in that afternoon. She gave out assignments to various officers to run a final check on all the license plates; she would put the pressure 011 the labs to come up with something they could work on. She wanted Frank Brandon's VW traced and she wanted to know who owned the Mitsubishi that Donny Petrozzo's body was found in—the same jeep as seen at the drug squat. They seemed to be treading water; she gave them a short sharp lecture to all pull their socks up and to return to base for another briefing that evening.Anna went back to her poky office, and decided to use the rest of the morning to check out Donny s diary.Phil Markham knocked and entered, closing the door. "She's weird, you know. Why sit on everything you just said?""Maybe because it's just supposition?""But what if it isn't? We know Donny dealt in cocaine and grass toanyone that wanted it. He had to score, so it would make sense that he used that drug squat.""We've not put him in there yet, though," Anna replied. "We do have his car license number plate, listed by Jeremy Webster, but not on the night of the murder.""That fucking lab is really dragging its heels. I've been on to them and so has the rest of the team.""Yeah, well, they are a bit snowed under.""You can say that for the autopsy report as well. Donny Petrozzo was found how many days ago—and they still can't give us anything. The only big move we got was you finding that bullet, and Petrozzo s body. Surely we should know by now who owns the Mitsubishi?""They say it's got stolen license plates.""Right. We're running around like headless chickens."Anna leaned back in her chair. "I think Julia Brandon has the answers to a lot. 1 mean, look how much money she's got. No way does she match up with Frank.""Cunningham's got me checking out A and E's at the local hospitals for anyone coming in with a bullet wound.""You may get lucky.""I doubt it. If you've got a load of cash, you go to a private doc in Harley Street." He put on a posh, upper-crust voice. "Out shooting; just got clipped instead of the ruddy pheasant."Anna laughed."You want a drink at lunchtime?"She shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm on the visit later to Julia Brandon's sister. I've got to schlep all the way out to Oxfordshire but I'm quite looking forward to it.""Another time, then.""Okay."Phil grinned and winked. "Good work, Travis. You're keeping us all on our toes."Phil left and Anna went back to Donny Petrozzo's diary. Donny listed pickups, drops, deliveries, and functions; she started to see some kind of code by certain names. There were black dots—nothing else,just dots—which coincided with times he drove Paul Wrexler and Mark Taylor. Both, she knew, scored from Donny. The dots were also alongside entries for various other names; then sometimes a square with a dot inside. She plowed on, page after page, until she reached eight months ago and saw the name and initials of Frank Brandon.FB was used about four times a week for long-distance drives and airports, hauls that Donny obviously didn't want to be bothered with. Then, eight months ago, Donny had four Heathrow airport trips in one day. FB took two and he took the other two. Beside the last one, Donny had done something that he hadn't on any other page: put a red ring around Flight 002 BA Miami. The red ring was deep, as if he had pressed the pen into the paper hard.Before Anna could continue reading, someone tapped on her door and DC Pamela Meadows popped her head around it. "We have a possible connection for you regarding Donny Petrozzo and Alexander Fitzpatrick.""You do?""Yes. It's not like they were buddies or anything like that, and maybe they never even met, but previous to his other charges, Petrozzo was sentenced for burglary at the Old Bailey in 1979.""Go on?""Well, Alexander Fitzpatrick was being tried in court one, for drug trafficking after a massive raid: twenty million quid's worth.""You're kidding me!""No. Fitzpatrick jumped bail and has been on the run ever since. Petrozzo served a few years and then went straight for seven years, before he was picked up again for fencing stolen property and got an eighteen-month sentence—"Anna interrupted. "Wouldn't Fitzpatrick have had to give a blood test?""I don't think so. I can check, but there is nothing on record about that. Back in 1979, they were not even aware of DNA; it was before the Holmes database. But, like I said, it is a possibility that Donny would have crossed paths with Fitzpatrick. Added to that, there was a lot of press and photographs. He was called the 'Hippy Drug Baron.' "Anna nodded her thanks and Pamela left her office. She opened up the Web site again to look at the pictures of Alexander Fitzpatrick. Would someone be able to recognize him after such a length of time? She stared at the photographs and then closed her eyes, trying to imagine what he would look like now: hair white or gray, thinner, older. The size of him would be a giveaway—six feet four.Cunningham tapped on her window and peered between the blinds. "Interview room two. Julia Brandon's here with a solicitor." Anna opened her office door."She's got Simon Fagan with her. You know who he is?" "No." "Top-notch, hard-nosed solicitor from the most expensive firm in London. He's a real bastard, so we won't get much joy, but that doesn't mean we won't try. Okay, let's go."The interview room was bare and the green walls gave a chill to the atmosphere, as did the single light bulb hanging over the table. The only furniture was a Formica-topped table and four chain. The tape recorder and video camera were on a shelf, ready for use.Simon Fagan was a tall, elegant man, with dark receding hair and a small toothbrush mustache. He had dark, liquid brown eyes, expressionless; his face was tanned, but his hands were not. Anna suspected he was probably a morning gym-and-sunbed client!Cunningham introduced Anna and gave a brittle smile to Julia, who looked stunning in a light fawn leather suit with a cashmere sweater. Her hair was loose, swinging in a silky sheet that she constantly brushed aside with her manicured hands. She was wearing her large square-cut diamond ring, with a diamond eternity ring, and her Carrier watch was the new diamond-cluster style with a thin black strap. She wore little makeup but her full lips were a pale coral shade of gloss. She was a very beautiful woman, more so today than before."Shall we get down to why you have, to my mind, been harassing my client, who, as you must be more than aware, is still deeply distressed by the death of her husband," Fagan began.Cunningham pressed her back against the hard chair, but did not fold her arms. "By all means, Mr. Fagan. As you are obviously aware, we are simply asking Mrs. Brandon to assist us in our inquiries into the murder of her husband."Fagan nodded but remained silent."Firstly, we have been unable to discover a marriage license issued between your client and the victim."Fagan clicked open his briefcase and took out a brown manila envelope. He withdrew a license issued on the Isle of Man and passed it across to Cunningham. The latter showed not by a flicker that this had taken the wind out of her sails. She calmly checked over the document and then passed it to Anna, who glanced down at the date and recorded it in her notebook. It was dated eight months ago.Fagan again held a pause that was as cold as the room."Do you own a black Mitsubishi jeep, registration—"Before Cunningham could finish, Fagan interrupted her and said that Mrs. Brandon owned a Mercedes convertible and a Range Rover. He produced more documents from his shiny briefcase; it was as if he enjoyed snapping it open and closed."Mrs. Brandon, have you ever seen this vehicle parked on or near to your property?" Cunningham passed her a photograph of the Mitsubishi."No.""Your late husband owned a pale green VW Golf. Have you seen that vehicle recently?""No. I wasn't aware that he owned one.""But you must have seen this Mercedes-Benz?"Again a photograph was passed to Julia; she glanced at it and then shrugged. "I may have seen one of these, but not parked at my house.""Your husband used this car.""Perhaps that was before I knew him," she said softly."Have you ever seen this man?" It was a photograph of Donny Petrozzo."No. No, I haven't.""Do you rent a garage in Wimbledon?" "I told you about that garage!" Julia said irritably." Yes, I rented it, not for myself, but for Frank. I never even went there. I park my own cars at the house. They are inside the garage at the moment, as Mr. Fagan drove me here."Cunningham leaned forward. "Could you tell me how you met Frank Brandon?" "1 advertised for a chauffeur and he answered the advert.""Could you give me details of this advertisement, and when and where you placed it?"Julia sighed and said that it had been in the local paper and in The Times. She could not recall the exact date, but felt sure that if they inquired with the papers
, they would be able to give more details. She did not have a receipt for payment of the advert. She then went on to say that she had subsequently employed Frank to act as her driver and bodyguard.When asked why she required a bodyguard, Fagan held up his hand. "It is quite obvious. My client is a very wealthy woman with two small children.""Had there been any threats against you?" Cunningham pointedly looked at Julia, who shrugged."No, but as Mr. Fagan said, I am a very wealthy woman and 1 have a great deal of jewelry and antiques, so I required more than just a driver, in case anything untoward happened.""Why was there such a substantial life insurance policy taken out for Mr. Brandon?"Fagan held up his hand. "Mrs. Brandon has already answered this question; in reality, she did not instigate it. Her accountant and business adviser suggested that it be taken care of. I believe it was Mr. Rushton who suggested the amount. My client just pays the premiums." He snapped open his briefcase again and showed them the documents for the life insurance policy.Cunningham passed them straight to Anna, who skim-read them to see if Connie was named anywhere, should anything "untoward" happen to her boyfriend. Julia was the sole beneficiary."So at what point did your relationship with Mr. Brandon turn from a professional one to—"Fagan was jumping in again. "It is obvious, as you can see by the date on the policy; it was arranged after the marriage, as by then Mr. Brandon was living with my client and the possibility of something untoward occurring would affect him.""But you had had no threats. There is no police report that you had been burgled, or your children threatened. Isn't that correct, Mrs. Brandon?""Frank was worried when he knew how much jewelry I kept in the house. It was, as 1 have said, simply looking out for anything that could possibly happen.""I see." Cunningham was edgy, her foot tap-tapping against the side of the table. "Well, something untoward did happen: your husband was murdered."There was another cold pause."Could you just take me through what happened on the day of the murder, Mrs. Brandon?""I already have. Frank got up very early, as he said he had some business to attend to. As I have also told you, he continued to work as a chauffeur whilst married to me. I didn't like it, and he obviously didn't need to do it, as I have substantial monies of my own, but he wanted to retain his independence. He left before I got up and before the girls went to school. I didn't hear from him during the day. I wasn't too concerned, as on occasion he had worked, driving long distances, and often didn't come home until very late. On those occasions, he would sleep in the spare room rather than wake me. I never saw him again."Anna watched her. There was no sign of emotion. Julia was composed and calm—in fact, almost bored. Fagan was drumming his fingers on the table, as if he was impatient to leave."I don't think you are being very truthful with us, Mrs. Brandon. I think you had a marriage of convenience; that Mr. Brandon did not share your marital bed, but lived in the spare room of your property. You have declined to say why you required a bodyguard, but if there is a reason, you should be honest with us.""My client has told you the truth," Fagan interjected. "So we are to believe that, when Mr. Brandon was interviewed for the job, you took him on and then within three weeks married him? Is that really what happened?""Yes. We fell in love and Emily and Kathy adored him. To you it may seem fast—perhaps it was—but there is nothing illegal about falling in love."Anna spoke for the first time. "It is rather confusing, though, considering Mr. Brandon was engaged to someone else."Julia avoided her gaze. "He never mentioned it to me," she muttered."His fiancee loved him, and she was certain that her love was reciprocated.""It obviously wasn't," snapped Fagan. He made an expansive gesture. "Mrs. Brandon obviously has nothing to do with the tragic death of her husband. She was at home all that night and morning, with witnesses to prove it. She has stated that she had no threats or fears of any kind. If Mr. Brandon did, as you say, have another woman, my client knew nothing about it, as he did not inform her of this relationship. I would now ask you to finish this meeting: it is becoming very tedious. I am at a loss as to why Mrs. Brandon is even being subjected to this, considering she has just been through a very harrowing ordeal.""I really appreciate you being here," Cunningham responded. "As I have said, we just need to clear up a few things.""I would say they have been, wouldn't you?""Not exactly. We would now like to know about Mrs. Brandon's ex-partner. I believe you said his name was Anthony Collingwood, is that correct?"Fagan began to dominate the interview. "Whoever my client's previous relationship was with is of no concern to this present situation. She has no need to answer that question.""1 am simply trying to ascertain her ex-partner's name," snapped Cunningham."Whoever it was, he is no longer connected to Mrs. Brandon.""Was it Anthony Collingwood?" "No comment.""I cannot understand why this seems to be a problem. Either it was Mr. Collingwood, or it wasn't.""No comment."Cunningham sighed. "I need to know how Mrs. Brandon's wealth was accrued.""No comment."Cunningham shook her head.This time, Fagan leaned across the table. "If you have any evidence that involves my client with the murder of her husband, I suggest you disclose it immediately. If you do not, then this meeting is over. Mrs. Brandon's previous relationship and her financial situation are private matters. I know you have approached her financial adviser, which is an infringement of her rights; so are surveillance vehicles that have been parked twenty-four hours a day near her property. I want them removed forthwith, or I will take out charges for invasion of privacy and harassment. I fully intend to report to your superiors this entire very distressing situation."He got up and held out his hand to Julia; she clasped it tightly and then stood up. She was, in high-heeled boots, at least five ten."Mrs. Brandon would also like to be informed as to when her husband's body will be released, as she wishes to arrange his funeral.""We will be in touch," Cunningham said, walking to open the interrogation-room door. She held it wide as they passed, then waited for them to head down the corridor, before she let it swing closed with a bang. "What do you make of the marriage certificate?"Anna closed her notebook. "Quickie job. Isle of Man. We should look into it because aren't you supposed to read the marriage banns for a certain number of weeks?""That's for a church wedding, I think. I also want to know her previous address—she's only just moved into the Wimbledon property. As it is, we're not getting very much, are we?""No comment." "What?""Well , it's obvious she's hiding something. I mean, she admitted that was his name, so we now check out if there are any records of him anywhere. Collingwood was one of Fitzpatrick's aliases, along with about twenty others. One of the things she did say to me was that she had been betrayed." "By the ex-partner?""I presumed that's who she meant. She got quite emotional about it and implied that she had been very much in love with him.""Minra." Cunningham paced around the room. "She was shocked when we told her Frank was dead, but she's no grieving widow. If she was doing something with the ex's money, then that could create a threat, and could be the reason why Frank worked for her.""I agree, but it doesn't link to the drug squat or to Donny Petrozzo, as far as I can see.""Well, let's see what her sister turns up for you this afternoon." Cunningham opened the door again. "You getting anything for us on the Petrozzo diary?""I think he had some code for his dealing: little black dots and a square with a dot in it. What it means, I haven't the slightest idea, but the dots coincide with the people I interviewed who scored from Donny. Also, he had substantial savings in a deposit account—as did Frank—so somebody was paying them; maybe Donny for drugs and Frank for—""Protection?""Could be."Cunningham sighed. No way was she prepared to pull the surveillance off the house in Wimbledon. "This is a fucking nightmare case; it's like an octopus with all these tentacles flailing around one central dead man."Anna wondered if she should mention what she had been told by Pete Jenkins, but thought it better to keep her mouth shut, as he had said it was not confirmed. Maybe the center of the octopus was not Frank Brandon, but Donny Petrozzo.
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