‘Bad day, sir?’ Wendy asked. She had seen the look on her DCI’s face as he walked in the door.
‘Personal issues,’ Isaac’s reply.
‘You need to find someone else. It’s not going to work out, you know that.’
‘I suppose I do, but…’
‘If she can’t put up with the hours you work, there’s no more to be said. It’s best to call it quits and for her to get on with her life; you to get on with yours.’
Isaac was thankful for his sergeant’s concern, but now there was a more pressing issue. Who was Dave?
‘We have a name, the time he spent in prison, a tattoo and a photo,’ Isaac said to the team.
‘I’ve already instigated a database search on the picture. I’m sure we’ll have a result within a couple of hours,’ Bridget said.
‘Why don’t you go home, sir?’ Wendy said. ‘We can always phone you.’
The idea appealed to Isaac, but his mood was not conducive to relaxing after another bust up with Jess, his on-again, off-again girlfriend. He still wanted her, but it had happened yet again: the chance of a romantic interlude and he had chosen a murder investigation. It was inevitable in that it would always be the same as long as he stayed with the police force. Maybe when he made detective superintendent he could back off a little, but that seemed to be a few more years in the future, and Jess O’Neill, broody and wanting a child, would be gone by then.
Isaac knew he would not be going home. He looked at the paperwork in front of him, he spoke to Larry, he looked over the shoulders of Bridget and Wendy, but mostly he sat quietly, pensively waiting for a result: the result that would drive the case forward.
If the crime syndicate was as vicious as they appeared to be, then who were they, and why hadn’t he heard of them before?
‘Larry,’ Isaac said as he went over and sat at the desk next to his, ‘we need to find out about large shipments of drugs into this country. Who’s the best person to talk to?’
‘We could get someone from Serious and Organised Crimes Command.’
‘Agreed. What about your gang leader?’
‘He’ll know about the distribution of the drugs on the street, but he’s not likely to be able to tell us much else. He’s only small fry, a local hustler.’
‘Talk to him anyway. He’ll have his ear to the ground.’
‘He won’t talk to me too openly, you know that.’
‘He will if he believes the syndicate is threatening him.’
‘Are they?’
‘Who knows. The body was meant to be discovered.’
‘To frighten others involved in the crime syndicate?’
‘I’ll meet up with Rasta Joe again,’ Larry said. ‘You can’t believe the earbashing I received the last time at home after I came in smelling of beer, and he likes to drink.’
‘At least she’s there for you,’ Isaac said.
‘I’ve found him,’ an excited voice shouted from the other side of the room.
Both Isaac and Larry moved over to Bridget’s desk. The woman had a broad smile on her face. ‘Wandsworth Prison.’
‘Do you have a name?’ Isaac asked.
‘Dougal Stewart.’
‘What else can you tell us?’
‘He served nine years for armed robbery. A man was killed, although Stewart was not responsible. They released him six months ago.’
‘Great work,’ Isaac said.
Thirty minutes later, close to midnight, the four police officers left the station.
Isaac would phone his DCS as he drove home.
***
‘We have a name for your friend Dave,’ Isaac said after the interview with Pinto had reconvened at 8 a.m. Katrina Hatcher was sitting alongside her client.
‘I only knew him as Dave,’ Pinto replied. The man looked as though he had had a restless night.
‘Dougal Stewart spent nine years in Wandsworth Prison.’
‘Was that his name?’ the lawyer asked.
‘We have prison records to confirm that Dave and Dougal Stewart were one and the same person.’
‘That’s the first time I’ve heard Dougal,’ Pinto said.
‘You stated that you had both been cheating,’ Isaac said.
‘I told you that before.’
‘Did you not realise that they would have records of what was being transported?’
‘There’s always some cheating, especially with drugs, so we assumed they’d not be concerned with a short shipment.’
‘But they were?’
‘Yes. They found us at the pub.’
‘What happened?’
‘Two men we’ve seen when we delivered the merchandise came into the pub. They were friendly. Dave bought them each a pint.’
‘After that?’
‘We stayed there drinking with them. They bought some drinks; we bought some. After a few hours, we left the pub. As we were about to get into Dave’s car, he had an old four-wheel drive, they grabbed us.’
‘I thought Dave was a strong man.’
‘They coshed him over the back of the head and bundled him and me into the back of Dave’s vehicle. We had our hands behind our backs, tied with cable ties. They also had cable ties around our ankles. We’re there trussed up like turkeys. I’m freaking out until one of the two men turned around and smashed me over the head with a cosh. I’m out for the count, and I don’t remember any more until we arrive at this warehouse.’
‘And then what?’ Isaac asked.
‘There’s Dave to one side of me. They have him strung up, his hands tied by a piece of rope hanging down from the ceiling.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m tied to a metal beam. They’ve made sure that my feet are barely touching the ground. I’m in terrible pain. There’s a man in the corner. He’s hidden from view.’
‘Did he speak?’
‘Oh, yes. He spoke.’
Katrina Hatcher looked apprehensive, almost as if she knew what Pinto was going to say. Isaac could see the colour draining out of her face.
‘What did he say, the man in the corner?’ Isaac asked.
‘“You know what happens to those who steal from us.”’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said I was innocent. Dave tried to blame me.’
‘They didn’t believe you?’
‘Of course not. We were guilty, we knew that. All I could think of was to protect myself. Trust me, I regretted my miserable life at that point. I could see our two previous drinking friends were anxious for some action. Dave was protesting his innocence repeatedly. One of the two heavies smashed his fist into Dave’s ribs. I swear I could hear them breaking. One of the heavies comes over to me. “Are you innocent?” he asked.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I confessed, told them where we had hidden the stolen drugs. I begged them for my life.’
‘They let you go?’
‘No. They left me tied to the beam.’
‘And Dave?’
‘One of the heavies shot him in the head. I wet myself. The two heavies laughed. After that, they cut Dave down and went at him with a chainsaw. There was blood everywhere.’
Katrina Hatcher excused herself from the room; she was holding a handkerchief over her mouth. Isaac halted the interview for thirty minutes until everyone had revived after Pinto’s graphic description of Dougal Stewart’s murder.
***
It was evident to Isaac they were dealing with some very nasty people. He assumed that if they killed with such brutality, they would have no aversion to killing a police officer. He warned his team to be careful. Wendy had found out the last known address of Dougal Stewart. Isaac asked her to wait for Larry, another hour at least.
The interview with Pinto resumed, his lawyer still looking the worse for wear.
‘You’ve mentioned a warehouse,’ Isaac said. Pinto sat glumly, the initial cockiness long gone.
‘I didn’t see where it was on the way there; they had cosh
ed me. I was out for the count.’
‘But you took the body or what was left of Stewart from there.’
‘Yes.’
‘So you know where it is.’
‘Do you want me dead?’ Pinto asked.
‘You know that your best hope of survival lies with us,’ Isaac said, although he did not believe it. Whoever was behind the crime syndicate ruled by fear, not idle threats. Out on the street, Pinto was a dead man. Inside the secure walls of a prison, he was dead as well.
Isaac knew that he had to solve a murder and break a crime syndicate which, on the face of it, was extensive, well funded, and well hidden.
Pinto discussed the situation with his lawyer. She advised a frank and open disclosure of all that he knew. Pinto did not agree, although he had no better solution. He still hoped for his future; realised that it might not last for very long.
‘The warehouse was in Ladbroke Grove,’ Pinto said.
‘Address?’ Larry asked.
‘Canal Way. You can’t miss it. It’s the only place there.’
Isaac halted the interview and left the room. ‘Canal Way, Ladbroke Grove,’ he said on the phone to Wendy. ‘Make sure you take sufficient uniforms. Be prepared for a lot of blood, and ensure the place is secure before entering.’
‘Is that where Dougal Stewart died?’ Wendy asked. She had been sitting in the office waiting for instructions.
‘It is according to Pinto. Once secured, get Gordon Windsor and his CSE team down there, and don’t let anyone destroy the evidence with their flat feet.’
Wendy did not need instructions on what to do, although she could judge that Isaac was pumped with success. After the warehouse had been checked, there was Stewart’s flat to visit.
Isaac returned to the interview room. ‘Is that where they gave you the car with Stewart in the boot?’ he asked Pinto.
Pinto was aware that once the police were swarming over the scene of his former drinking pal’s dismemberment, there would be no way that he could conceal his confession to the police. He was a troubled man.
‘Yes,’ Pinto said.
‘And you drove from there to Regent’s Canal?’
‘Yes. The two heavies kept me company at the warehouse for an hour or so, told me what would happen to me if I didn’t do what they said.’
‘This mysterious man, what happened to him?’
‘He left.’
‘Did you get a clear look at him?’
‘No. Only that he drove a late model Jaguar.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I saw it out of the window.’
‘The two heavies, what can you tell us about them?’ Larry asked.
‘The more aggressive of the two was an Irishman by the name of Devlin. The other one, hard as nails, called himself Steve. Apart from that, I don’t know much about them, other than they drink in the Pride of Paddington on a Friday night, the same as we did.’
Isaac realised they had almost concluded the interview, and there was plenty to follow up on. One last question remained. ‘Why was there so little blood at Regent’s Canal?’
‘They put what was left of Dave in a freezer for some time. I suppose that must be the reason.’
‘The packaging? What did you carry the body in?’
‘A garbage bag, one of those heavy-duty ones you put in your dustbin.’
‘And where is it now?’
‘I dumped it in a rubbish skip not far from the canal.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘Not the address.’
‘Could you find it again?’
‘Yes.’
‘Larry,’ Isaac said. ‘Take a couple of cars, some uniforms and our friend here. See if you can find it.’
‘No problem,’ Larry said. ‘It won’t do us much good though.’
‘Agreed, but it may help to corroborate Pinto’s story.’
‘What about me?’ Pinto asked.
‘You will be charged with aiding and abetting in the murder of Dougal Stewart. There will be a further charge of drug trafficking.’
‘Is that it?’ Katrina Hatcher asked.
‘I am willing to believe that your client was not involved in the murder of Dougal Stewart. However, he will be remanded in prison awaiting trial.’
Pinto’s lawyer looked over at him. ‘I may be able to get you bail,’ she said.
‘Don’t bother. I’m a dead man walking,’ Pinto replied.
***
By the time Isaac and Larry returned to the office, Wendy was preparing to leave. Pinto had been formally charged and would be transferred out of the cells at Challis Street Police Station to a prison, pending trial. Before Pinto’s transfer, Larry needed to take him to find the plastic bag that Stewart’s torso had been wrapped in, although the visit out to the warehouse described by Pinto was more immediate.
Three vehicles converged on the warehouse on Canal Way. Larry had driven with Wendy in the passenger seat. The other two unmarked cars carried four men in each, all armed in case of trouble. The first of the two vehicles entered the forecourt of the warehouse after breaking the chain securing the metal gates at the front with hydraulic bolt cutters. The second car then drove through with the first car following. Larry and Wendy remained outside on the street at a secure distance.
Five minutes later, Larry’s phone rang. ‘It’s all clear.’
Larry moved forward and drove through the front gate of the warehouse. It looked modern but unused. A police officer, a gun still in his hand, let them in. ‘No one here,’ he said.
Wendy phoned Gordon Windsor first. ‘You need to bring your team over,’ she said.
‘Any sign of blood?’ Windsor asked.
‘We’re securing the area for you. It’s a big place.’
‘Keep everyone out of there.’
‘Some of our men needed to check it out, but they’ve been careful.’
‘Thirty minutes and we’ll be there.’
Wendy and Larry, careful to ensure they were wearing foot protectors, moved around the warehouse. Two uniforms were securing the area. One of the two cars that had accompanied them had left.
It was evident that the building had been empty for some time, a clear indication of the downturn in the economy. In one office, they found signs that it had stored furniture at one time. The place was as hollow as a grave, their voices echoing as they spoke. A lone pigeon sat high up on a beam. At the back, close to a rear entrance, they found their proof.
The floor in a rear store room was covered in blood. A piece of rope hung from the ceiling. ‘That must be where they strung up Dougal Stewart,’ Larry said.
Wendy surveyed the scene, smelt the blood and the dead flesh. She left and found an open door out to the rear of the building and vomited. Larry remained at the scene, careful not to move in any closer. He could see a chainsaw, and what appeared to be a bloodied mess; he knew what he was looking at. He left and went to join Wendy. He needed fresh air and plenty of it.
‘Sorry, DI. Too much for me,’ Wendy said. She had a cigarette in her mouth. ‘I haven’t had one for two weeks.’
‘If you’ve got another one…’ Larry replied.
Gordon Windsor arrived shortly after with Grant Meston and Rose Denning. Windsor took one look at the scene. ‘Pretty grim,’ he said.
Another three crime scene investigators were checking the rest of the warehouse.
Windsor moved into the crime scene, taking photos as he went. Rose Denning was documenting, taking fingerprints, shoe prints. Grant Meston confirmed that the chainsaw was almost certainly used in the dismemberment of Dougal Stewart.
To Larry that was stating the obvious. The chainsaw was barely recognisable, covered as it was in dried blood. Meston picked it up, tagged it and ensured it was ready to transport to Forensics. ‘We’ll check that it’s Stewart’s blood later,’ he said.
Larry could see the beam that Pinto had described. The smell in the room was horrendous, so much so that he retreated again. Wen
dy stayed outside, not willing to return.
Rose Denning moved around the scene, oblivious to the carnage, the barbarism that had occurred.
‘How can you take it?’ Larry asked.
‘I’m just focussed, that’s all. Don’t come looking for me later in the day,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘I’ll have my head over a sink, blubbering like a child.’
‘Delayed reaction?’
‘Yes. That’s it.’
Windsor moved around the outside of the room, careful where he stepped. He looked at the bloody mess that Larry had seen earlier from a distance. ‘Good God!’ he said.
‘What is it?’ Grant Meston asked.
‘It’s a head.’
‘Dougal Stewart?’ Larry asked.
‘We’ll need to get it to Pathology. Not much I can tell you here.’
Chapter 7
Larry and Wendy returned to Challis Street. Gordon Windsor and his team were occupied at the warehouse in Ladbroke Grove.
Vicenzo Pinto was led out of the police station later that morning and placed in the back seat of a marked police car. His hands were cuffed at the front. Larry sat on his right side. Wendy sat in the front passenger seat.
‘Which way?’ Larry asked.
‘Go back to where I threw Dave in the canal,’ Pinto said as the car exited the car park at the rear of the police station. A man sitting in a café on the other side of the road took note. He made a phone call.
The police car drove to Warwick Crescent and pulled up outside the flat of Mrs Gregory, their first witness. ‘Up there, cross the bridge, and then turn left,’ Pinto said.
The vehicle crossed Westbourne Terrace Road Bridge and turned into Bloomfield Road, before turning right again two blocks later into Clifton Villas. ‘That’s where I dumped it,’ Pinto said.
The garbage skip was close to overflowing with builder’s rubble from a house renovation. ‘We’re about to take it away,’ the foreman said.
Larry flashed his police ID badge. ‘It’s a crime scene now.’
‘My boss will be furious.’
‘There’s not much I can do about it,’ Larry said. After dealing with the foreman’s concerns and with an irate house owner, he phoned Windsor.
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1 Page 89