‘I thought it was best to clear the air.’
‘There are anomalies in your accounts,’ Wendy said.
‘It is clear that I have taken advantage of tax loopholes, as any person in business is entitled to do. The fact that I have probably been more aggressive than others does not in itself constitute a crime. No doubt Inland Revenue will want to conduct a full audit of my financial records after you have seized them.’
‘Does that concern you?’ Isaac asked.
‘Of course it does. A tax audit is always unpleasant.’
‘Have you committed any criminal wrongdoing in your tax avoidance?’
‘Not criminal, but they’ll find something, they always do. The deaths of these women are going to cost me plenty.’
‘Is your financial well-being more important than us bringing their murderer to justice?’
‘Don’t go putting words into my mouth. That’s not what I said.’
‘My client is here to assist, not to be accused of a crime,’ Woodley said.
‘The question was valid.’
‘Christine Devon worked for me for a short period of time. I did not know the woman other than in a professional capacity. I knew Amelia Brice’s father, and I had met his daughter once. Her death is disturbing, as is Christine Devon’s, but I was not involved. A tax audit will result in a fine at most, and a time to pay any outstanding monies. As you can see, their deaths have inconvenienced me. I do not have any motive to want them dead.’
‘A complete check of your records, your bank statements, will continue,’ Wendy said.
‘It appears that your interest in me has permeated through to my clientele.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Most of them have cancelled my contract with them.’
‘We would not have told anyone.’
‘I realise that, but someone has.’
‘Any ideas?’
Wendy looked at the woman, unsure why she had come voluntarily to the station. She had said nothing other than admitting to irregularities in her financial records. Shirley O’Rourke, it was assumed, was talking about thousands of pounds over the years.
This was the first time that Isaac had met the woman. He knew her to be fifty-eight, although she looked older. She dressed well enough, the sort of clothes that could be bought in a high street clothing store. For a woman who had supposedly made herself rich, she did not show it. Isaac assumed it was the woman’s nature, her frugality.
‘Mrs O’Rourke, we are confused as to why you have come here today,’ Wendy said. ‘If you have cheated on your taxes, that is either fraud or not.’
‘I needed to clear the air, to explain my innocence. I am a hard-nosed businesswoman, that’s all.’
‘Let us come back to Christine Devon,’ Isaac said.
‘The woman applied for a job; she had the necessary qualifications and suitable references.’
‘You checked?’
‘Always. And besides, it’s becoming increasingly hard to get good staff. Most would rather scrounge off the government than work. Mrs Devon never gave any trouble. She did the job, and I paid her on time.’
‘Minimum wage?’ Wendy asked.
‘I run a business, not a charity. No doubt some of the homeowners would have given her tips.’
‘One avenue of enquiry is that Amelia Brice and Christine Devon shared some common knowledge. We’ve assumed that it was gang-related, or possibly politically-related, given Amelia’s father’s friendship with those in power.’
‘What’s this got to do with me?’
‘Do you have any ideas as to what it might have been?’
‘Not me. I didn’t speak to Mrs Devon often, and Amelia, never.’
‘But her father? You’d speak to him.’
‘Sometimes. We understood each other.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’d both come from nothing. We could speak to each other without any pretence.’
‘Is what we’re seeing from you today, a pretence?’
‘Not at all. I grew up in Ireland. We were dirt poor. Do you know what that means?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Wendy said. ‘Subsistence farming.’
‘Then you’ll understand the need to better yourself.’
‘I can understand, but I’ve remained honest, whereas you haven’t.’
‘Insults are not appropriate,’ Peregrine Woodley said.
‘My apologies.’
‘Mrs O’Rourke, I put it to you that you are worried that we will find more,’ Isaac said. ‘That we will find fraudulent insurance claims from homeowners that tie in with your cleaning of their houses. It will be a criminal offence if you have knowingly received stolen goods and then sold them, sometimes with the homeowner’s permission, sometimes without. How do you plead, Mrs O’Rourke, guilty or not guilty? We will uncover the truth.’
‘This is unacceptable,’ Woodley said. Isaac ignored him.
‘Did Amelia offer you a deal?’
‘I must protest,’ Woodley said. Yet again, Isaac ignored him.
‘Or maybe her father was starting to tighten up on her lifestyle. We know he did not approve of the drugs or the men. Amelia was desperate; the word was around that you can help out. You approached Christine Devon: knocked over that vase, destroyed that painting, stole some jewellery and replaced it with a fake, and there was Christine Devon refusing to turn a blind eye. What did you do? Call someone you knew? You’ve lived around here long enough. You know someone who can rid you of two troublesome women: one desperate that the plan has gone awry, angry, wanting to lash out, tell the police, and another woman, honest and decent, refusing to go along with it. You’re cornered. Your business and your reputation are compromised. You take the only option possible.’
‘That’s lies, scurrilous lies. Woodley, do something. Don’t sit there like a lemon,’ Shirley O’Rourke said.
‘I’ll be making a formal complaint,’ Woodley said.
‘That’s your prerogative,’ Isaac said. He had shaken up the case. He knew that Shirley O’Rourke, if she were guilty, would react with more urgency. Wendy could keep a watch on her.
‘I’ll need a full transcript and copies of this interview,’ Woodley said.
‘They will be supplied.’
The interview ended, and Shirley O’Rourke and her lawyer left.
‘You were tough there,’ Wendy said.
‘Just keep an eye on her. See what she does,’ Isaac said.
Chapter 10
There was nothing that Isaac Cook disliked more than an investigation that was going nowhere. And whereas Shirley O’Rourke had felt the heat from him, he was not sure of her guilt. To him, she was a woman who skirted around the boundary between right and wrong. She may well have acted in collusion with some of the homeowners to allow fraudulent insurance claims; she may have been responsible for the theft of money and valuables. A conviction for receiving stolen goods was one thing, but murder was different altogether.
Wendy, Isaac’s dependable sergeant, was not as convinced, although proof would be difficult. She had not liked the woman from first meeting her, and after the interview she liked her even less. She had met people like her before; the type of people who gave capitalism and free enterprise a bad name.
Isaac met with Charisa, the daughter of one of the murdered women. They had arranged to meet in a café in the centre of London, some distance from Challis Street. The DCI saw a worried young woman. Inside the café, she relaxed a little but remained tense. Isaac purchased two caffè lattes; they sat towards the back of the café, away from the view of the street. ‘What is it?’ Isaac asked.
‘It’s Billy,’ Charisa said.
‘What about him?’
‘They threatened him.’
‘Who?’
‘One of the gangs.’
‘Tell me the full story.’
‘They made it clear that if you were told, it would be worse.’
‘They always say that. Whe
n was he told?’
‘Three days ago.’
‘How long have you known?’
‘He told me this morning.’
‘What did he tell you?’
‘He was on his way home from work, close to where he lives. A car pulled up, he was bundled into the back, and it took off with him inside. They said that Samuel owed them twenty-two thousand pounds and the interest was accumulating – one thousand pounds a day.’
‘Which Billy doesn’t have.’
‘He’s been stealing from where he works to get the money.’
‘How much has he?’
‘Eight thousand.’
‘What else?’
‘They told him that if he didn’t give them the money within five days, they’d take me.’
‘Did they say why?’
‘Inspector, you know what they meant.’
‘Sex, prostitution.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And Billy’s been trying to get the money to protect you?’
‘I told him that he was crazy and that he should have told you straight away.’
‘If he gets them the money, they’ll only want more. Their claim against Samuel may be bogus anyway. Did they have names, this gang?’
‘Billy said that one of the gang is known as Negril Bob.’
‘I’ve heard of him,’ Isaac said. ‘He’s been in trouble over the years, although I don’t think there are any convictions against him.’
‘I’m frightened for Billy.’
‘It’s you that I’m frightened for,’ Isaac said. ‘Where is your boyfriend?’
‘He’s gone to America for a couple of weeks.’
‘Are you staying at his place?’
‘Yes. But it’s not far from where we used to live. They’ll find me soon enough.’
‘In that case, you need to move out. Is there anywhere that you could go?’
‘Not really. Anyone we know lives in the area.’
Isaac could see the dilemma. If they protected Billy and Charisa Devon, a uniform assigned to each, then those that had threatened Billy would realise that he had spoken to the police, and that would be a death sentence for him. If the police did nothing, then Billy would be squeezed more, and they would take Charisa as a way of ensuring his compliance. Once Billy was in their control, they’d be after more money, all the while using his sister as leverage.
Isaac phoned Larry and gave him the address of the café where they were sitting. The young woman did not like the idea, but Larry had better contacts with the gangs than Isaac ever would. To them, he was a traitor to the brotherhood, a man who had deserted his race and had become a token white.
Larry arrived after fifteen minutes and made his way to the back of the café. Isaac ordered him a cappuccino. Larry would have liked a slice of cheesecake as well, but desisted. ‘Negril Bob, I’ve heard of him. He runs with a bad crowd. If they make a threat, they’ll carry it out.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ Isaac asked. ‘We can’t let Charisa be taken.’
‘Agreed, but if she’s not around, they’ll go for Billy. These people don’t make idle threats. How long have we got?’ Isaac asked.
‘Two days maximum.’
Isaac could see the fear on the woman’s face, understandable under the circumstances. He wondered how many more were under threat from the gangs; how many more who did not have the nerve to stand up to them and to contact the police. Probably a lot, he reasoned, and if their mother and their brother had not been murdered, would she have come forward, or would Billy have been relegated to stealing and the selling of drugs, even coerced into joining the gang that had changed his life?
‘We’ll do nothing for now,’ Larry said. ‘I’ll meet with my contact first. Charisa, if there are any more threats, people loitering around, following you, then you are to call us straight away.’
‘And?’
‘We’ll pick the two of you up and make sure you're both safe for a few days.’
‘What are you thinking?’ Isaac said.
‘It’s a loose plan, but if we have to, we’ll hide them for a couple of days. That should give us enough time to round up the gang and to bring them in for questioning.’
It seemed unsatisfactory to Isaac, but there wasn’t a lot more the police could do officially. The two Devon children were not witnesses to a crime and did not justify protected witness status. He was worried for Charisa, not so much for Billy, although another beating for failing to pay the money could result in his death, and the young man was about to lose his job for theft. If he had so far managed to acquire eight thousand pounds by offloading merchandise from the shop on the black market, there was no way that theft of that magnitude would stay hidden for long.
The three left the café at intervals, Charisa first. Larry briefly caught sight of her as she slipped down the steps not far away to the London Underground. After a few minutes, Larry left, but not before phoning Rasta Joe to meet up for lunch. Isaac waited for another twenty minutes.
***
Wendy kept a close watch on Shirley O’Rourke. Her money was on the woman being involved somehow, even if indirectly, in the two murders. Isaac thought she was chasing a red herring. If the woman was guilty of criminal activity, the fact remained that the murders of the two women had all the hallmarks of a professional.
Apart from the occasional visit to her business premises, Shirley O’Rourke stayed in her house in Bayswater, and the ABC Cleaning Company appeared to be no longer in operation. Wendy realised that she would need to talk to the woman again shortly, although this time woman-to-woman and away from the police station and the woman’s lawyer.
Inside the house, unbeknownst to Wendy, Shirley O’Rourke was fully occupied planning her future. She knew that Peregrine Woodley was the best there was, but even his legal skills could not prevent her receiving a custodial sentence. It had been a good life, but she did not intend to spend time in prison, and it wasn’t as if the Brice home had given her much. The previous cleaner had been there for three years, and the arrangement had been fine. Any cash lying around, and Amelia Brice had been too spaced out on a few occasions to notice the loss, and the jewellery, she had plenty, so it had been easy to take, sometimes just removing it, other times substituting with a fake.
Shirley had felt no pang of regret over fleecing the woman: a woman who had been born with a silver spoon and nothing else, apart from being attractive. Shirley O’Rourke knew that she had never been able to rely on her looks to get by, and no man would ever have been swayed by her wiggling her arse, flashing her assets.
Wendy could see the smoke in the woman’s backyard, realised that she couldn’t do anything about it. It was compromising evidence, not old leaves, that was burning.
Bridget Halloran had been busy in the office at Challis Street checking insurance claims against the records taken from the ABC Cleaning Company.
Wendy left from outside the O’Rourke house and went to the first of the homes that concerned Homicide. At the house, not far from the Brices’, a cheerful young boy of no more than six answered the door. ‘Is your Mummy or Daddy in?’ Wendy asked.
‘Mummy’s here.’
A woman in her forties came to the door. She was dressed in a top and jeans, an apron tied around her waist. ‘Sergeant Wendy Gladstone, Challis Street Police Station.’
‘Is it bad news?’
‘Not at all. I’ve just got a few questions for you.’
‘Then come in. I’m busy in the kitchen. If you don’t mind me continuing, we can talk.’
‘That’s fine.’
In the kitchen, the marble-topped worktop, the gadgets, were all of the best quality. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Emily Cardiff said.
‘Yes, please.’
Two minutes later, a cup of tea was put down in front of her. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Eighteen months ago, you made an insurance claim for a vase that had broken. How did it break?’
‘The cleane
r knocked it over.’
‘How much did you claim for?’
‘You’ve got the figures, I assume?’
‘Twenty-five thousand pounds,’ Wendy said. ‘That’s a lot of money for a vase.’
‘It was antique, a family heirloom.’
‘It couldn’t be repaired?’
‘No. It was smashed beyond repair.’
‘ABC Cleaning, what can you tell me about them?’
‘Reliable, do a decent job. I’ve no complaints.’
‘We’re investigating the deaths of Amelia Brice and Christine Devon. Did you know either of the women.’
‘I knew Christine Devon. She used to clean here.’
‘What can you tell me about her?’
‘Not a lot really. She’d do her job and leave.’
‘Was she here when the vase broke?’
‘Not then. That was another cleaner.’
‘Her name?’
‘Victoria Neville.’
‘Do you know where she was from?’
‘I never asked. I don’t make a point of becoming too friendly with the staff.’
‘And the vase that was broken?’
‘We used the money to buy another.’
‘Where can I find Victoria Neville?’
‘I’ve no idea. She used to live locally, that’s all I know. She was Jamaican, or at least, she was born there.’
‘Do you have any problems with the immigrants here?’
‘If they cause no trouble, I don’t.’
Wendy left the house, not sure that she had achieved much. A vase broken by a cleaner did not seem an impossibility.
She’d ask Bridget to find Victoria Neville for her.
***
Isaac entered Billy Devon’s workplace to find the man hard at work. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.
‘Ten minutes and it’ll be my lunch time. You’ve been speaking to Charisa?’
‘She’s a worried woman, and you’re in trouble.’
‘I’ll do anything to protect her.’
‘Admirable, no doubt, but you’ve broken the law.’
‘There’s a place down the road. They make a decent sandwich. Do you fancy one?’
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1 Page 131