DCI James Hardy Series Boxset

by Jay Gill

  “Tyrone Peter West was a smart guy and a hard worker. He started his car-washing business with nothing but a cloth, a bucket and bottle of liquid soap. He started in a supermarket car park. Each time he got himself established the supermarkets would bring in a more professional crowd and throw him out. Eventually he got sick of that and started approaching cinemas. He and a friend were soon clearing four to five thousand pounds a week with the only cost being liquid soap. From there he grew the business to a dozen or so hand car wash stations. He needed more people. He also arranged exclusive deals to have crews washing cars in cinema car parks, supermarket chains and out-of-town car parks.

  “Eventually he caught the attention of those who needed what he had in ample supply. Cash.”

  Chambers put a packet of cigarettes on the table and indicated we should step outside for a while to continue the conversation. We made our way to the front of the restaurant and, having lit her cigarette, she continued. “From what we gathered he was most likely either threatened or blackmailed in some way, but however it started he eventually found he was in over his head with some Albanian mafia types. The Albanians were making a fortune in cash with drugs, prostitution, extortion, illegal goods, etcetera. All that cash needed cleaning, so they wanted an endless supply of cash-rich legitimate businesses to launder their money.

  “Tyrone never really had a chance once they heard about his business and how much cash was going through it each week. Once they got their claws into him, it was over for him. However much he generated in cash each day he’d have to add another ten to twenty percent of their dirty money on top. Once it was banked it was clean, it was laundered, and all they had to do then was withdraw their money and spend it on legitimate items like houses and cars. Easy.”

  “What happened?” I asked. “Why did he wind up dead?”

  “That part we don’t really know. Perhaps he wanted out. Perhaps the Albanians wanted the business for themselves. Perhaps he just looked at someone the wrong way. All we know is one morning he was found at his desk with one to the head and one to the chest.” Chambers ground out her cigarette and lit another.

  “Suspects?”

  “Plenty of suspects. Suspects aren’t the problem. Proving it and making it stick is the problem. For us in Fraud Squad, when there is that much legitimate cash going through a business, proving ten percent of it is illegal is difficult. If I were you, looking at who ordered the murder of Tyrone West, I’d start by looking at a man they call Papa.”

  “Where would I find him?” I asked.

  Chambers laughed. “He’s not hard to find. He spends his days in a little restaurant in West London. If you go looking for him, just be careful. To look at him you wouldn’t believe he’s one of the most powerful crime bosses in London, if not the most powerful. The Albanian mafia has a vice-like grip in London and quite a few major cities in the UK. If you want to know who pulled the trigger, well, that’s anyone’s guess. If you want to know who ordered it, then right at the top of my list would be Papa.”

  “Where in West London is the restaurant?”

  “The restaurant is in Ealing. It’s called Caesar’s,” she said. She looked at her watch. “I’ve really got to go. I need some sleep. I’m back on in five hours. If you get stuck, speak to the chief again. He’ll arrange a meeting or point you in the right direction. I don’t need to tell you to be careful, but be careful. And thanks for dinner.” With that, Chambers walked to her car and was gone.

  It was now almost midnight and it had been a long day. My head was spinning from all the information I’d gathered. I went back into the restaurant and made some notes. I wasn’t sure how much further the case had progressed or whether I had just hit a brick wall. What I did know was that I’d just been handed a big piece of the puzzle, but where it fitted I wasn’t yet sure.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I arrived at the Thameside Catholic School and went straight to the office of the school head, David Alsop. Alsop was a stocky, balding man who was nearly as tall as me. Until he smiled, he looked more like a nightclub bouncer than a head teacher.

  “I’m here to see Simon Baker,” I told him. “I believe he teaches here.”

  “He’s not in any trouble, I hope?” said Alsop.

  “I just need to ask him a few questions. It really is important I speak to him immediately.”

  I watched Alsop’s reaction. I could see he was curious and was weighing up whether to press me for more information.

  Unsure what to do, Alsop said, “He’s teaching right now.”

  “I am sorry to have turned up unannounced, but it couldn’t be helped. I’m sure neither you nor Mr Baker would want to hinder an investigation.”

  I could see Alsop was itching to ask what sort of investigation, but again he held back. “Of course not. Follow me, Inspector.”

  I followed Alsop through the maze of corridors. All students were in class, and as I passed, I looked into the classrooms. Some rooms were quiet and some were loud and filled with laughter. We climbed two flights of stairs and headed to the end of another long corridor, then took a right and stopped. I discreetly stood back out of sight as Alsop knocked twice and opened the door to the classroom.

  “Good morning, children.”

  “Good morning, Mr Alsop,” the children replied in unison.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but could we have a quick word please, Mr Baker?”

  “Of course,” I heard a voice say. “Right, class, I’m stepping out for a moment. While I am out, I’d ask that you take this time to continue your Monet project work, which, can I remind you, is required for the end of term.”

  The classroom erupted into noise as the children began to open bags and talk excitedly. Baker stepped into the corridor and, without speaking, looked at Alsop and then at me. He looked calm and relaxed. His expression never changed, even when I was introduced.

  “Sorry to bother you in the middle of class. I know we like to avoid that,” said Alsop, looking at me. “But this is Detective Chief Inspector Hardy, and he tells me he needs your urgent assistance. I thought perhaps the two of you could use the music room. It’s empty at the moment. It’ll give you a little privacy. If you need me, Inspector, I’ll be back in my office.”

  I followed Baker in silence to the music room. He pulled out a couple of chairs and placed them in the middle of the room. I felt like I was at a parent and teacher meeting. Baker smiled weakly as he saw me notice the small silver cross on his lapel.

  “So how can I help you, Inspector?” asked Baker softly.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. I almost feel a little embarrassed to be bothering you while you’re teaching, but something has come up in the course of my investigation, a part of which is in relation to yourself. As with all investigations, time is a crucial factor, and so I like to avoid delay. I’m sure you understand.”

  I could sense the elephant in the room, so I just came out with it.

  “You may remember me as the original arresting officer, along with Inspector Rayner. I just want to inform you I am here about a separate incident that occurred recently, which, to my knowledge, has nothing to do with your prior conviction.”

  Baker crossed his thin legs and clasped his spidery hands on his knee. “That’s right. I hardly recognised you, but I thought your face was familiar. Isn’t it funny how the mind works at blocking out dark memories?”

  Baker looked different to how I remembered him. His arrogance was gone. He looked tired. He looked a sad man now. It was as though he’d been broken and beaten but was somehow fighting on. His glasses, beard and cheap clothes threw me off a little, but underneath I saw the man I remembered.

  Baker looked at his watch.

  “What brings you here today, Inspector? And in case you’re wondering, Alsop knows about what happened to me. He and others have helped me understand how my mistakes led me to be thrown to the lions. This is a very nurturing environment. Together with God’s guidance, I am now on the right path and,
God willing, my mistakes are behind me.”

  Baker closed his eyes for a long moment and breathed slowly. He appeared to be meditating.

  “It turns out I am good at teaching,” he went on. “I get to give, and what I receive back is rewarding. When I’m teaching it’s hard to believe I am the same person that I was back then. Life is so different now. I feel blessed to have been given a second chance.” Baker spread out his long, thin arms. “I’m surrounded by enthusiastic students, and all the staff here have been so supportive. Finding work wasn’t easy after what happened. But when I was at my lowest point, I was found. God found me.”

  Baker slowly shook his head. “It’s okay, Detective. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I sensed he had been expecting me. He seemed a little too keen to talk and a little too well rehearsed, although perhaps all I was sensing was a man who knew he’d never shake off the past and had accepted that, one day, a police officer would come knocking on his door. Maybe I had become too cynical and was finding it hard to believe this man in front of me had turned his life around. I decided to jump straight in.

  “A man fitting your description was seen at the home of Mr Matt Swift.”

  “I was there,” said Baker without hesitation. “The day before yesterday, around nine o’clock Friday evening.”

  I wasn’t expecting that. I sat a little straighter. “You were?”

  “Yes. Not for long. You see, I could see it wasn’t the right time.”

  “The right time?”

  “Yes. I think Mr Swift had been drinking and . . .” He trailed off.

  “And?”

  “Well, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  “I’m investigating a serious assault on Mr Swift, so anything you can offer to help the investigation would be appreciated.”

  “I see. Well, I think he may have been smoking marijuana. He was slurring his words and I could smell it coming from his apartment door when he opened it.”

  “And why were you there?”

  “Forgiveness.”

  I purposefully kept my expression blank.

  “I’ve been encouraged to confront my past to ensure a more peaceful future. Part of this outlook involves forgiving those who have wronged me or whom I have wronged. I was there seeking redemption.”

  “Redemption?” I asked, encouraging Baker to continue.

  “To be rescued, I must first atone for my mistakes. I wished to seek forgiveness from Matthew Swift.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. It wasn’t the right time. I think he was a little . . . high.’ Baker spoke more quietly. “Recreational drugs. Very sad. He was hallucinating. He was talking to me and trying to catch butterflies with his hands.”

  “Did you enter the apartment?”

  “Yes. Only because he was making a bit of a scene and I didn’t wish to cause embarrassment for him or his neighbours. I stepped inside, but only briefly. I quickly realised he had company. I never saw who it was, but I assumed it was a girlfriend. She was in another room. Bedroom, perhaps? From what I could gather, his wife was away for the weekend. That sort of adulterous behaviour is not for me to judge. ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’ I just felt I had, unfortunately, chosen the wrong time to make amends, and so I quickly and politely suggested I call back another time.”

  “Did you hear the name of this other person in the apartment?”

  “I wish I had. That would help you, wouldn’t it, Detective?”

  “Can anyone verify any of this?”

  “In what way, Inspector? Oh, I see what you mean. Well, I care for my terminally ill mother. I suppose she would be able to confirm the time I went out and the time I returned. But she is very frail. I would prefer it if you didn’t burden her, unless it is truly necessary. I’m sure you understand.”

  The school bell rang. Noisy children poured into the corridors.

  “I really should prepare for my next class, Inspector Hardy. I am happy to help you further if I can. Perhaps we should schedule a more appropriate time.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Baker put a skeletal hand on the door handle to leave. “I will pray for Mr Swift as well as for you, Inspector Hardy.”

  “Did you seek redemption from Katharine Wells or Toby Fielding?”

  Baker turned and tilted his head slightly. “I am sure those names should have some significance but I cannot place them. Do you have something to ask me, Inspector? Perhaps you have something you’d like to accuse me of. You certainly have that look about you. I would suggest you be sure of your facts. Under the circumstances, I have been extremely polite, and fishing the way you are could lead you into trouble. To me, this now feels a lot like harassment. I’ve paid for my mistakes and am a free man. I really do just want to be left alone to live a peaceful and more meaningful life. Unfortunately, your being here jeopardises all that for me. Rumour, gossip and innuendo are fuel for the wicked.”

  Baker opened the door, and I watched as he joined the flow of fast-moving children.

  I decided to take a few hours off. A little fresh air and perspective could work wonders. I’d probably call Rayner later and talk things over, but right now I fancied a walk, then perhaps an ice-cold beer and something to eat.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Monica and I picked the girls up after school and whisked them away to Brighton for a couple of days by the seaside. I thought it was important to give my parents some space. It would also be beneficial for Alice and Faith, who had been torn away from their family home, to have some excitement. A change of scenery would also be therapeutic for Monica.

  The plan was to stay overnight in Brighton on Friday and Saturday before returning to London to spend Sunday together with my parents. With the Gallery Killer on everyone’s mind, Mum, in particular, was on edge. She’d called each evening to check we were okay. On Saturday evening she insisted I bring her granddaughters back as early as possible on Sunday; she was in desperate need of a hug from them.

  Reading between the lines, it was clear I was in Mum’s bad books, as it had been far too long since all three generations of the Hardy family had sat down for a traditional Sunday roast lunch. She informed me that she would be cooking roast beef and Yorkshire puddings and I should be there no later than midday; she wouldn’t accept any of my usual excuses. I was not to drop the girls off and disappear back to the office.

  When she got like this, I knew better than to protest, and besides, it sounded like a great idea to me. After a couple of days away, all of us sitting down together would round off the weekend perfectly. Apparently, she also needed us to return early Sunday because she required some female advice from Monica about the shoes she’d bought on Friday – it was clear the matter was urgent. Naturally, I could see straight through that and Mum knew it, but she didn’t let that stop her.

  Mum hugged and kissed us all as we arrived on Sunday. No one was allowed through the front door until she’d embraced each of us, inspected us from head to toe, and commented on how well we looked and how the seaside air had done us good. I also took the flack, this time publicly, for how long it had been since I’d been available to sit down at their house for a proper meal, even though in reality it couldn’t have been more than a few weeks.

  I said nothing to defend myself, as I could see Mum was giddy with excitement at having us return safely. Dad stood back a few paces with his big smile and watched with raised eyebrows. He shook his head in mock disbelief and winked at me. “For goodness’ sake, Sylvia, let them in. Anyone would think they’d just returned from five years in Australia.”

  “You shush, Thomas Hardy, you grumpy old man. Don’t you pretend. I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “Granddad,” called Alice and Faith when they saw him. They rushed over and hugged him.

  “Well, look at you two,” said Dad. “Now which is which? I know it’s only been two days, but you’ve changed so much
. Don’t tell me – you’re Alice and you’re Faith. Right?”

  “Noooo,” laughed the girls.

  “Okay, now let me try again. I used to be a detective like your daddy, you know, so don’t tell me. I’ll work it out. You’re Faith and you’re Alice.”

  “Noooo,” shouted the girls again.

  “Are you sure? You know, I’ve got a lie detector around here somewhere. Now, where did I put it?” Dad began hunting around the house, pretending he was trying to find his lie detector, while the girls ran beside him laughing. I could hear him whispering loudly. “You know, I use my lie detector on your grandmother sometimes when she tells me it wasn’t her that ate the last chocolate biscuit.”

  “Soppy old man,” said Mum as she watched her husband fooling about like a child. She turned to Monica and me. “You know,” she almost whispered, “he was probably more excited about seeing those girls than I was. He was up at the crack of dawn this morning and has been watching that clock ever since.”

  Dad came back our way carrying Alice and Faith in his arms. Mum held onto my arm and turned to Dad. “Granddad, are you going to show Alice and Faith the surprise for them in the garden? I’m going to try one more time to teach this son of ours how to cook.”

  “Is it a trampoline, Granddad? Is it a trampoline? You said you might get us one.”

  “You’d better come this way and take a look. You know, for the life of me I cannot remember what that surprise is. Though I do recall it was only suitable for good girls. Have you two been good?” asked Dad jokingly.

  “I think I had better go with them,” said Monica. “Just to keep an eye on them.”

  I followed Mum into the kitchen and mouthed, “Help!” to Monica, who simply laughed and followed Granddad and the girls.

  Mum checked the cooking and talked away about this and that. I stood and watched the girls out of the window. They’d thrown off their shoes and were bouncing up and down on the new trampoline. Dad and Monica chatted together while looking on and encouraging them.