Clean Cut (18 page)

‘When he was in jail, the team investigating the murder of the boy found in the bin-liner questioned him. They came away certain that he was involved somehow; they suspected that the kid had got into the country illegally and was used in some kind of voodoo ceremony. They got nothing from Camorra, but his reputation in the prison was pumped up. He lived like a prince, and if he didn’t get what he wanted from any of the prisoners, he would threaten them.’

Langton looked at the board, and turned back to Harry. He was very tense. ‘Good work. Do we have any idea where this Camorra bastard is now?’

‘All I know from the boy at the hostel is that he was somewhere in Peckham, and with a lot of money.’

The murmuring team started to discuss the new developments as Langton, Harry, Lewis and Anna grouped together by the board. Langton stared at Camorra’s face. Something in that smirk made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

He spoke softly, tapping the photograph. ‘If we say that this Camorra guy smuggled Sickert into the country, he would have a hold over him. If he was also in the same hostel as Vernon Kramer, where Murphy was hiding out, we have the links. Maybe Murphy found out something and that’s the reason he got his throat slit?’

Anna agreed, and interjected that it also meant the two
missing children were now in an even worse situation–if that was possible.

Langton underlined the importance of trying to trace the call made from Parkhurst prison if it was, as he now suspected, to Camorra. Langton also gave out the orders to track down Camorra and Rashid Burry, and to pump out the press on Sickert. He reckoned that, with Sickert being so ill, he would be the easiest to trace. Although if the wanted men had someone with access to fake documentation, they could be anywhere and using God knows how many different names.

But at least, and at last, the murder team were moving forwards again.

The duty manager was assigning details of the work to be done to each officer as Anna sat at her desk, waiting for her assignment for the day. Langton had returned to his office. He looked dreadful: in need of a shave and with sunken eyes. She wondered if Mike Lewis had been right about him popping painkillers to keep going. She could see how much discomfort he was in, and his limp was very pronounced.

She was not given a schedule so, confused, went and knocked on Langton’s office door. She was in two minds whether or not to disturb him, so waited a while before she knocked again.

‘Come in,’ Langton said irritably.

‘Sorry, but I’ve not had my schedule, and—’

‘We go back to Vernon Kramer after the press interviews.’

‘Okay. We doing them at Wandsworth?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. When you’re ready.’

‘Gimme fifteen minutes and I’ll be out.’

She nodded and quietly closed the door. She was very concerned. He was taking something, it was obvious; his pupils were like pinholes and he was shaking–she could tell by the cigarette between his fingers.

As Anna returned to her desk, Harry was passing, and she said, ‘Good work, Harry.’

‘Thanks. I thought I’d just go and have a jar with the Gov.’

‘I wouldn’t. I think he’s busy with the press reports.’

‘Oh, okay.’ He hesitated, and looked around. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Is it my imagination, but isn’t he kind of playing down the fact that this guy Camorra and this Rashid Burry might have been involved in his attack?’

Anna bit her lip and then shrugged. ‘I think if they were, the Gov wouldn’t play it down, Harry–on the contrary.’

‘Yeah, right; it was just a thought. See you later–I’m off to Peckham! See if we can trace this bastard Camorra.’

Anna watched him head out, and sighed uneasily. She was certain Langton
was
playing down the importance of the Camorra connection, and she knew why, but it was nevertheless worrying.

Langton waited for the shakes to stop, smoking one cigarette after the other. His head was throbbing, his knee agony and he had pains across his chest. It had taken so much willpower to stand for so long in the incident room, but it had taken even more when the mug shot of Camorra was pinned up on the board. Langton had
hardly been able to control his emotions. Camorra was, he was becoming sure, the man who had attacked him, the man who had almost sliced him in two–and the physical shock of that recognition had hit him like a terrible panic attack. It took him half an hour to calm down. He picked up his electric razor and shaved, then drank a bottle of water before he felt capable of leaving his office.

‘Right Travis, let’s go!’

Anna hurried after him; as always, he never ceased to amaze her. She had been taken aback at how ill he had looked earlier, but now he seemed refreshed and energized. If he was popping pills, then he must obviously need them: the question was, how many and how often? She had no idea how much he was relying on them, and what he was suppressing with their help. It had taken all his willpower to allow Harry and Mike Lewis to begin to trace Camorra rather than do it himself, but when they did, Langton would have him.

V
ernon Kramer was brought into the interview room in handcuffs. Langton said they could be removed. The officer asked if they needed him to stay in the room. Langton said that it would not be necessary; he was surprised that Kramer was even wearing handcuffs.

‘You been acting up, have you, Vernon?’ he asked.

‘You got no right to keep comin’ in to see me. I done nothing and you know it.’

Langton waited until the officer left the room; he would be outside in the corridor if required.

‘You can have a solicitor present if you want,’ Langton said.

‘What for?’

‘You might need one.’

‘Listen, I’m not rocking my fucking boat. I got done in ’cos of breakin’ my friggin’ parole. I done nothin’ but help you, an’ being taken off the wing all the time gets me into trouble. I’m no fucking grass.’

‘Was your pal Murphy one?’

Vernon swallowed and the sweat started forming beads on his forehead. ‘I dunno what went on with him; I just want to serve my time and get out.’

‘Well, Vernon, you might be in for a lot longer than your sentence.’

Vernon’s jaw dropped. ‘What the fuck for?’

‘You heard about one of the prisoners that cut Murphy’s throat?’

Vernon shook his head.

‘You don’t know?’

‘All I know is, Arthur got sliced.’

‘How did you find that out?’

‘In the nick, there’s a lot of guys who know what goes on. Just because they’re banged up, don’t mean that they don’t make contact with the outside world. If you gimme two hundred quid, I can get me own mobile.’

‘So tell me what you know about the murder of your friend Arthur.’

‘Look, I was just told he got done in, that’s all. To be honest, I don’t wanna know any more. Maybe it’s connected to the fact you come in here asking me questions and the next minute, he’s had his throat cut.’

‘Is that why you kicked up when you were told I was back?’ Langton leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the Formica-topped table. ‘You see, Vernon, I don’t think that you’ve been straight with me.’

‘Shit, do me a favour. I told you all I know.’

‘No, Vernon. No, you haven’t.’ Langton got up and walked over to lean against the wall, his hands stuffed into his pockets. ‘You seem well informed about how your pal died…what else do you know about it?’

Vernon swivelled his head round to look at Langton. ‘That’s enough, isn’t it?’

‘Not really. You know anything about the two guys that did it? One held him down and the other cut his throat.’

‘No, I dunno nothin’ about them.’

‘Kid called Eamon Krasiniqe?’

‘Never heard of him.’

Langton walked on around the room and came to stand directly behind Vernon. ‘He’s not in a good state.’

Vernon swivelled his head round again. ‘Nothing to do with me. I never heard of him.’

‘But you do know Rashid Burry?’

Vernon sighed. ‘Yeah, I told you–he was in the same hostel as me, when Arthur was kippin’ down on my floor, and I tell you, I wish to God I’d told him to piss off.’

‘Tell me more about Rashid.’

‘Jesus Christ, I told you: he just came and went in the place and I dunno where he is now.’

‘I think you know a lot more about him.’

‘I don’t!’

Langton now moved to sit back at the table. ‘How well did Arthur Murphy know him?’

‘I dunno. Like I said, he was just lying low in my room. They don’t do food, you know, so I used to go out and get fish and chips and takeaway stuff for him to eat.’

‘I see. So when your room was checked out, where did he go?’

‘Hid in the toilets.’

‘So no one from the hostel knew he was there?’

‘Obvious, yeah.’

‘But Rashid Burry knew, didn’t he?’

‘I guess so. Yeah, he might.’

‘So Murphy could also have had access to Rashid, maybe talked to him?’

‘Yeah, it’s possible, but that guy is not to be messed around with. He’s a bit crazy.’

‘So you didn’t get along with him?’

‘I never said that.’

‘Did Murphy get along with him?’

‘I don’t fucking know!’

‘Okay. What about Clinton Camorra?’

Vernon was visibly shaken.

‘You do know him, don’t you?’

‘No.’

‘Sometimes he called himself Rashid Camorra?’

Vernon swallowed. ‘Never heard of him.’

Langton rocked back in his chair and then let it bang forwards. ‘Don’t fucking lie to me, Vernon, because I’ve had it right up to here!’ He hit his forehead. ‘I am sick and tired of your bullshit. I have given you every opportunity to come clean with me, isn’t that right?’

He looked to Anna. ‘I think maybe it is time we got in a solicitor for Mr Kramer, if he is withholding evidence about the murder of that little boy.’

Vernon started to panic. ‘What? What are you talking about?’

Langton smiled. ‘Reason I’m here, Vernon, is we believe that you had something to do with the murder of a small boy found in a bin bag in the canal at Islington.’

‘No, no! This isn’t right!’

‘I’d hoped you would come straight with me, but as it’s obvious you are still withholding evidence, I’ve lost my patience.’

‘No, no–wait! You can’t bring me into that. I don’t know anything about it, I swear before God I don’t!’

Anna looked as if she was starting to pack up her briefcase, placing her files into it.

‘Listen to me, I—’

‘You listen to me, Vernon! We are investigating a series of murders–Gail Sickert, her two-year-old daughter–and we think there is a connection between you, Murphy and—’

‘No! No, there isn’t!’

‘What are you so afraid of, Vernon?’

‘I’m not!’

‘You think you’ll get the same treatment as Murphy? Is that what scares you? Or what about the kid that knifed him–you heard about him?’

Vernon’s eyes were like saucers.

‘Walking dead–you scared that’ll happen to you?’

Vernon covered his face with his hands. ‘This isn’t fair, it’s not bloody fair.’

‘What isn’t?’

Vernon licked his lips and rubbed at his eyes. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said, almost inaudibly.

‘Didn’t hear you? What did you say?’

Vernon sat back and sniffed, close to tears. ‘I wish to God I had never let Arthur stay with me.’

‘Well, we know one reason: you got banged up for harbouring him and two years from your old sentence tagged on, but there’s other reasons, right?’

Vernon nodded.

It took two beakers of water and a lot of patience for Vernon at last to come clean, with a whole new story.

A while back, Arthur Murphy had paid a visit to his sister, Gail, to arrange for Joseph Sickert to stay with her as a favour to Rashid Burry. While Arthur was on the run for the murder of Irene Phelps, he discovered that Sickert and Gail had become lovers. Arthur had got very angry about it; he and Vernon had got drunk, paid them
a visit and got into a big row. Frightened, Gail threw Murphy out and called the local police.

Vernon had, at first, refused to allow Murphy to hide out at his hostel, but was coerced by Murphy and Rashid Burry into letting him stay; they reckoned no one would look for him there, right under the noses of the authorities. Murphy knew Rashid Burry from a previous hostel; he also knew that Burry had a contact who would help him get out of the country. This contact was Clinton Camorra.

According to Vernon, Camorra had a big network of people who could supply passports, visas and work permits. Rashid Burry knew Camorra well because he himself had got into the country using Camorra’s forged documents. Murphy had to get some money to pay for the documents and he gave Camorra his word that he would find two thousand pounds.

Rashid had the documents from Camorra ready for Murphy at the hostel, but he wanted the money to pass on to Camorra. This was the time that Anna and the team had gone to the hostel to arrest Murphy. Rashid got very nervous and, even though Vernon told him that it had nothing to do with him, he contacted Camorra. Camorra was furious. If Murphy informed on Camorra, his network would be exposed. Camorra took his anger out on Rashid, threatening him unless he got it straightened out–and fast.

Vernon licked his lips. ‘This guy Camorra is rich; he’s got heavies working for him, and by now, he was really pissed off.’

Langton held up his hand. ‘Did Camorra arrange for Sickert to come to the UK?’

‘Yeah, along with another few hundred; he’s bringin’
illegal immigrants in by the shedload every few months. Newspapers say that there’s one immigrant coming into Britain every minute. A lot are coming in via Camorra, that’s why he’s got so much dough.’ Again, Vernon licked his lips.

Langton glanced at Anna and back to Vernon. He sighed. ‘That’s a lot of people, Vernon. I know some are just kids, but tell me: how does this Camorra manage to keep afloat without someone grassing him up?’

‘They’re too scared to ever finger him–well, they would be. One, they’re on forged papers, right? And then…’ He shrugged.

‘Then what?’

‘Depends if you believe it or not, but the darkies do, so I guess he’s got them both ways, know what I mean?’

‘No, I don’t.’

Vernon bowed his head. There was a long pause. He then looked up and faced the wall, not looking at either Anna or Langton.

‘Voodoo.’

‘Voodoo,’ repeated Langton flatly.

‘Yeah. I mean, I think it’s a load of tosh, but they don’t, so he’s got them, like I said, by the short and curlies. That’s how he survives; lives like a fucking prince.’

‘So you’ve met him?’

Vernon’s eyes flickered.

‘Come on, Vernon. You’ve been straight with us so far–give it up.’

‘I want to get out of here, into Ford, somewhere like that–an open prison. I mean, the inmates here have ears that can pick up anything, and they know I’ve been brought to be interviewed.’

‘Do you think that Murphy talked?’ Langton wanted to change the subject to calm Vernon down; he was twisting and turning in his chair.

‘Yeah, I think he opened his mouth about Camorra, and maybe he said it to the wrong guy, I dunno.’ Vernon leaned forwards. ‘I heard that the kid that knifed him is in a voodoo trance–so it’s obvious, isn’t it? Camorra even got strong arms in the nick over there, see what I mean? You got to protect me.’

Langton nodded. ‘Okay, listen to me, Vernon, this is the deal, and I give you my word. I am being dead straight with you. I’ll talk to the prison Governor and I’ll get you moved to Ford, but there is one condition.’

Vernon sighed. ‘There’s nothing else. I swear I have told you everything–I swear it on my mother’s life.’

‘Very well, it’s a deal–
if
you give us the whereabouts of Camorra.’

Vernon swore he did not know. Langton said, in that case, there was no deal. Vernon was shaking with nerves, but eventually told them that he did not know the address, he only knew Camorra lived somewhere in Peckham.

‘So, did you go to his house?’

Vernon admitted that he had met Camorra at his home. Rashid had taken him there in a car with blacked-out windows. He was blindfolded, and he had his hands tied with electric wire. Not until he was inside the house was the blindfold removed. He described the house as a big double-fronted one, but had no idea which street; he knew the house was big, because there was a double garage, and they had walked from there into the house down a long hallway. He had never seen Camorra’s face, as he wore a white hood with eyeholes cut out. Camorra
had questioned him about the arrest of Arthur Murphy, trying to find out if there was any connection to himself. Vernon had explained that Murphy was charged with the murder of Irene Phelps and needed to get out of the country fast.

‘He made these threats to me: said if there was so much as a whisper about his connections, I would pay for it. He said that I should also get word to Arthur to keep his mouth shut, and warn Sickert to do the same thing.’

‘Did you warn Sickert?’

‘Yeah. I think Rashid also give him a warning.’

‘Do you think that Camorra was involved with the murder of Gail and her child?’

‘I don’t know.’

Vernon then began to cry, blubbering that now he’d told them everything, he was scared to go back on the wing. Langton opened the interview-room door and asked the officer to take him out. He then returned to the table and picked up his notes and briefcase. Anna stood up as the very frightened Vernon was led into the corridor by the officer.

‘You’ll keep the deal?’ Vernon said.

Langton didn’t answer, but checked his watch. They heard Vernon swearing and calling him a lying bastard as he was taken back to the wing.

‘You going to ask about moving him?’ Anna enquired.

Langton shrugged. ‘I’ll think about it.’ He then took a bottle of water from his briefcase, and a bottle of pills.

‘You monitoring how many you take a day?’ she asked.

Langton looked up, stared at her, then turned away.
Sometimes he sent chills up her spine with that look: cold, dismissive, hurt.

She had hardly said two words during the long interrogation of Vernon; she had never really been given the incentive. Langton had controlled it from the moment Vernon walked in; he now said nothing as they were led back to the prison reception to sign out.

‘What about Vernon?’ she asked again, tentatively.

‘What about him?’

‘Well, he’s spilled the beans. He could get hurt.’

‘Break my heart. He’s a snivelling, lying piece of garbage; he’s preyed on little kids all his life. A few years, he’ll be free to keep up his sick fantasies. That’s more of a worry to me than what happens to him in there. I hope he gets his dick sliced off.’

Langton eased himself into the passenger seat of the patrol car, Anna taking up her usual position in the back. He suddenly turned and grinned at her.

‘Did good in there; opened that little prick up. This Camorra is looking like a prime target.’ He turned back to stare out of the window as he gave their driver instructions to head back to the incident room. ‘Let’s hope the boys have some luck tracing him. It shouldn’t be too difficult.’

Anna sat back in the car, her mind churning over the interview with Vernon Kramer. Their investigation centred on the murder of Gail Sickert and her child, yet Langton had hardly even referred to it as his main priority.