DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1

by Phillip Strang

  ‘What I want, I get. That’s the way to get results. One day, Cook, you might learn, but I doubt it, and as for your Goddard, this sweet arrangement you had with him is over. From now on, we do it my way. Is that clear?’

  ‘It’s clear. I will put it in writing to you that the direction you are asking us to take is contrary to good policing,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Covering your back, is it? Lily-livered, hoping that when this investigation comes crashing down on your head, you’ll be able to wave a piece of paper to abrogate responsibility.’

  The voices of the two men were elevated. Isaac knew that his career prospects were dashed, but there was no way that he was going to lick the man’s boot.

  A message on Isaac’s phone. He looked at it. Don’t bait Caddick.

  It was clear that someone outside the office had heard the voices and had SMSd Richard Goddard, who in turn had SMSd Isaac.

  ‘Very well. I’ll comply with your request,’ Isaac said. ‘And we will solve these murders.’

  ‘Don’t be surprised if you see me in Homicide on a regular basis,’ Caddick said.

  Chapter 21

  Charisa Devon’s visit to Challis Street was not unexpected. Negril Bob was back, and even though he was in Homicide’s field of view, there was not much they could do about him. Isaac knew the man to be smart, and he would not incriminate himself in the interview room. It seemed better for him to be out on the street and visible. In time, Isaac was convinced, the man would make an error, and he’d be arrested.

  ‘Billy’s been threatened again,’ Charisa said.

  ‘When?’

  ‘A few days ago.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us about this before?’

  ‘I only found out from him today. He didn’t want to worry me as I had exams.’

  ‘He could have told us,’ Isaac said.

  ‘They had told him not to.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘It wasn’t anyone he knew. A man came into the shop and threatened him, not long before Negril Bob returned. Billy was frightened. He’s doing well at the shop. He doesn’t want to steal from there again.’

  ‘Are you part of the deal if he doesn’t pay?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How long does he have?’

  ‘Five days, and now they want all the interest that’s been accumulating.’

  ‘How much?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Forty-six thousand pounds. If he doesn’t pay, they’ll take me.’

  ‘What protection do you have?’

  ‘None. After Negril Bob disappeared, we’d assumed it was all over, but now he’s around.’

  ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘Yes. Once when I was walking home from college.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He was on the other side of the street. He made a suggestive sign.’

  ‘Describe it.’

  ‘You know it,’ Charisa said.

  ‘Thumb and forefinger of one hand, the forefinger of the other,’ Larry said.

  ‘That’s the one.’

  It was clear that the situation was dangerous. ‘Charisa, you’ve got to get away,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I’ve still got exams. I can’t afford to miss them.’

  ‘These people are murderers. They probably killed your mother, and your exams are more important!’

  ‘I need a visa for America. It’s dependent on my passing these exams.’

  ‘You know what will happen if they take you?’

  ‘I prefer not to think about it,’ Charisa said.

  ‘You must. They’ll drug you, no doubt rape you. Are you prepared for this? Is America that important? And then there’s Billy. We can’t protect you and your brother if you’re both stubborn.’

  ‘We’ll not be intimidated by then.’

  ‘These are vicious men.’

  ‘I know, but I’m staying.’

  ‘Billy?’

  ‘He’ll not let down Mr Loeb.’

  ‘I can deal with Loeb,’ Isaac said, ‘but I can’t protect you and Billy from Negril Bob.’

  Isaac could see in Billy Devon a decent young man, and in Charisa, the sister he never had. He could see the goodness in her that could easily be destroyed, and Negril Bob was a man of few morals.

  Negril Bob was around the same age as Isaac, but he had not come across him before. Larry said that was because he had grown up to the east of the city, and he was known there as a tough individual.

  Isaac phoned Billy two hours later and had a brief conversation with him. He confirmed what Charisa was saying, but was initially angry that she had put herself at risk.

  Isaac phoned Larry who had since left the office. ‘What’s the latest on Negril Bob?’

  ‘The man’s visible, treating everyone to drinks at the pub, no doubt bragging about how he beat the police.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Notting Hill, trying to get an angle on the death of Samuel Devon.’

  ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Not really. Those who knew him said he was full of himself. Nobody, it appears, has a good word to say about him, not even his school teacher who called him an obnoxious little punk.’

  Isaac looked over at Charisa who was still in the office. ‘He was,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Larry said. ‘I’d have been more discreet if I’d known you had company.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, Inspector. Samuel was only fifteen. Young enough to grow out of it,’ Charisa said.

  ‘Maybe,’ Larry said. ‘Most times, they’re into gangs by the time they’re twelve or thirteen. Petty crime then, but Samuel was playing with the grown-ups. He wasn’t the first one to come to a sticky end, won’t be the last either. What’s important, Charisa, is that you and Billy make it through, make your mother proud of the both of you.’

  ‘That’s what we intend to do.’

  Isaac ended the phone call and turned to Charisa. ‘You’ve got to make yourself scarce.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Your boyfriend?’

  ‘We’re living together.’

  ‘You’re both young, maybe too young to be living together.’

  ‘That’s what my mother would have said, and if she were still alive, then I wouldn’t be. Troy’s a very moral person, but my life, as well as Billy’s, is not normal, is it?’

  ‘I’ve seen too much to form an opinion of what is normal now,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Samuel, was that normal? I remember how he looked after his death, how I felt.’

  ‘I’ve seen worse. And time heals, you know that.’

  Isaac could see that the young woman wanted to stay at the police station with him, but he had work to do, and a superintendent who wanted to be kept informed. On the other hand, he worried that at any time she could be snatched off the street, even if she was taking care to watch out who was around her. In the end, he asked Bridget to drop her off at Troy’s place.

  Free of anyone in his office, Isaac opened his laptop, saw ten emails, six from Caddick. He let out a long sigh, almost felt like swearing, but checked himself.

  It was clear that Caddick’s demands were designed to deflect Isaac away from the investigation, with the inevitability of one of Caddick’s people coming in to wrap it up. Isaac knew that he had to play the man tactically. If he abided by his dictates, he was finished; if he didn’t, then he had a good chance of wrapping up the investigations.

  Isaac knew that a successful outcome would remove any pressure on him from Caddick. He leant back in his chair, put his hands on the back of his head and weighed up the pros and cons for a few minutes. In the end, he sat up straight, nominally filled in the reports, and left the office. He knew there’d be trouble.

  ***

  Negril Bob enjoyed the notoriety. He had beaten the system, as far as he could see it. The police had wanted to arrest him for murder, yet he had evaded them, and now they couldn’t pin anything on him, not even a parking ticket. Larry had observed him from the oth
er side of the pub; an opportunity for him to have a couple of drinks. At one stage, Negril Bob had looked his way, another of his gang letting him know that there was a police officer in the pub. A couple of women were draped around Negril Bob’s neck. Larry knew one of them, knew her to be a prostitute who hawked her wares from a small house not far from the pub; the other woman he did not recognise, other than noting she was the prettier of the two.

  Larry knew that he should not have been there on his own, but he had seen the man highest on Homicide’s radar entering the pub. It had been several weeks since he had started following his wife’s instruction on sensible eating and drinking; three days since he had had a beer. He had wondered at first if he was an alcoholic but decided he wasn’t, although he sure missed it. And now, a pub and Negril Bob; the need to enter and to order a pint was irresistible, and if his wife complained, not that she did as much as before when his weight had been piling on, he could say that it was in the line of duty.

  As he sat there, not talking to anyone, pretending to check his emails on his phone, occasionally glancing around the pub, he could see that not much had changed since Rasta Joe’s death. The amorous couple in the corner who should find a room before it became embarrassing, the old man sitting on a chair in the corner, the assorted businessmen, the local villains, black and white, some English-born, some recently arrived in the country.

  Larry ordered another pint, took the opportunity to buy himself a pub lunch, a juicy steak. He’d had enough salads at home to last him a lifetime, and a pint and a steak were as close as he was going to get to heaven that day. Another two pints and he would be sleeping on the sofa with only a cat for company. For once, he was going to take the risk and to indulge himself.

  ‘Spying on me, is that it?’ a voice said.

  Larry looked up, saw the ominous presence of Negril Bob. ‘Not me. I often come in here for a pint,’ Larry said. He knew that he was compromised. The pub was full, but no one would be coming to his rescue. He was not ashamed to admit that he felt a little frightened. The man who sat opposite him was an imposing figure: jet-black with pearly white teeth, the scalp clean-shaven, his muscles apparent under the shirt he wore. Negril Bob was a good-looking man, no one had ever denied it. Rasta Joe with his dreadlocks and the faint odour of ganja, had not been. And now Negril Bob was threatening him.

  ‘Look here, Hill, I’m a law-abiding man. I mind my business, I suggest you mind yours.’

  ‘Can’t a man have a pint without being disturbed?’ Larry said by way of a weak defence.

  ‘You know who I am. I’m a tough man, not afraid to mix it with the locals, not willing to let anyone say anything against me or get in my way.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘Not from me, it isn’t. I mind my own business, I suggest you mind yours, as well.’

  ‘There’s still a case against some of your people.’

  ‘Who’s to say it was them.’

  ‘There was a witness to Rasta Joe’s murder.’

  ‘Your drinking pal. I’m surprised you bothered with the toad of a man, although he was no doubt keeping you informed. Did he ever mention me?’ Negril Bob said. To Larry, it looked as though he intended to stay and harangue him.

  ‘Rasta Joe never mentioned you. He was a cautious man, careful in what he said, and besides, who are you? Should he have mentioned you? Have you done anything that the police should be concerned about?’

  ‘Not me,’ Negril Bob said. He was looking at Larry, attempting to get the measure of the man, attempting to ascertain how far he could push him.

  ‘Then how do you make a living?’

  ‘Honest graft, that’s all. Has anyone told you different?’

  ‘We rely on our own investigations. As far as we are concerned, you’re a criminal, unproven bar a few minor offences.’

  ‘And that’s the way it’ll stay. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Now that’s a threat.’

  ‘It’s not a threat, but if I find you hanging around me, I’ll get my lawyer to issue a writ against you for police harassment, and that goes for Isaac Cook as well.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘By sight, no more. I’ve broken no law.’

  Larry knew that he had been threatened, and with a man as violent as Negril Bob, he knew he needed to be careful. The man would not be averse to threatening his family if there was a court case pending. Larry also knew that there was no provable crime against the man. He needed something solid on him, but from whom?

  Negril Bob left Larry where he was sitting and went back to his gang. Larry sat still for five minutes, taking the opportunity to message Isaac. After that, he left the pub. Outside was quiet as he walked to his car. He opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat. On the windscreen, someone had thrown paint. It was probably local hooligans recognising a police car, but he couldn’t be sure if it were more sinister. Not wanting to linger, Larry left the area and drove to Challis Street.

  Chapter 22

  Isaac, as expected, was in front of his laptop typing when Larry walked in after his encounter with Negril Bob. It was ten in the evening, and Homicide was dark apart from the light in Isaac’s office. Isaac could smell the beer on Larry’s breath.

  ‘Not ready to face the music at home?’ Isaac said, more by way of jest than criticism. Isaac wasn’t a drinker, but sometimes he had drunk more than his fair share if it was work-related. However, Isaac knew that for him it was work, but for Larry it was a pleasure.

  ‘He’s keeping you busy,’ Larry said. There was no need to say who the ‘he’ was. Neither of the two men liked the new superintendent, yet Larry was more adept at concealing his disdain for the man who had breezed in through the main entrance of Challis Street a few days earlier.

  Isaac had submitted his report, not spending too much time on the detail, aware that there would be words from his superintendent. It had been the wrong tactic, he knew that now, in that Caddick had taken note that Detective Chief Inspector Isaac Cook was not acting correctly towards a senior. It was Richard Goddard who had phoned him up after the latest confrontation between the two men. ‘If you show any opposition to his rule, then it will be marked in your official record,’ he said.

  ‘There is a murder investigation,’ Isaac said in his defence. ‘I can’t be expected to lose focus.’

  ‘Sorry, but that’s the way it is. If you continue to defy the man, you’ll be up on disciplinary charges, and you know what will happen?’

  ‘Caddick and Davies will make sure I’m found guilty.’

  ‘Caddick’s already got a man lined up for your position.’

  ‘Has he?’

  ‘A snivelling weed of a man from what I’ve been told. He’s currently a detective inspector dealing in homicides, to the north of London.’

  ‘Your description?’ Isaac said.

  ‘That’s what I’ve been told. I’ve looked up his service record, and it’s sound. Of course, that may be because he and Davies go back a long way, but I believe that the man may be capable.’

  ‘One of Davies’s stooges and competent? That’s not something we’ve come across before.’

  ‘Maybe, but if Caddick gets you out, then it’s not going to be so easy to come back.’

  ‘How do you suggest I proceed?’ Isaac said.

  ‘Play the game. If Caddick wants reports, you give him reports. If he wants you to jump on the spot, you jump.’

  ‘It’s not my style.’

  ‘Style or not, that’s what Caddick hopes you’ll not do. The man’s baiting you, don’t let him catch you.’

  ‘How’s Public Relations?’ Isaac said, to talk about something else.

  ‘If they want me to jump, I’ll jump.’

  ‘Is this what we’ve become, performing animals?’

  ‘Unfortunately, it is.’

  ***

  With Isaac busy, Larry sat down at his desk. He realised that he had drunk more than he should have, and he still had to go home. He
helped himself to a cup of coffee, black, and checked his emails.

  So far, Caddick had not annoyed him, only shaken him by the hand and patted him on the back. Larry knew that the man was looking for allies, and he, as a detective inspector, could not afford to burn bridges. He did not have a mentor as his senior did in DCS Goddard. All he had was Isaac, and it was hardly a mentoring role. His senior had brought him into the department as a detective inspector, and that’s what he still was, and there was no mention of promotion. With Caddick, assuming he survived, there was always the possibility.

  Larry knew that now was not the time for sucking up, and he didn’t want to, but he was a realist. Success was about power and compromise, diligence and honesty, subtlety combined with reality and sycophancy.

  In the office, he could see Isaac slaving at his laptop, the top button of his shirt undone, the tie off to one side. Larry picked up the phone and made a phone call. ‘I met Negril Bob,’ he said.

  Wendy yawned on being woken up. ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘He made it clear that our continued investigation would be met with action on his part.’

  ‘Violence?’

  ‘Not him. He threatened to contact his lawyer.’

  ‘What good will that do?’

  ‘Not a lot, I suppose.’

  Wendy, realising that Larry wanted to talk, got out of her bed and went into the other room. One of her cats followed her. ‘Why were you near to Negril Bob?’

  ‘I followed him into the pub. I was thirsty; it seemed a good opportunity.’

  ‘And you were checking him out?’

  ‘I’m entitled to a pint.’

  ‘You were stalking him.’

  ‘What can we do to wrap up this case?’ Larry said. ‘What do we have?’

  ‘You pick a fine time of the night to talk,’ Wendy said.

  ‘We can talk later.’

  ‘I’m awake now.’

  ‘Samuel Devon, where do we stand on this?’

  ‘Nowhere.’

  ‘We know the gangs; we have a fair idea who killed him.’

  ‘Where’s the proof?’

  ‘Do you have any contacts?’ Larry said.