Clean Cut (36 page)

Langton had decided they would go for the weakest link first, the one who appeared to be most agitated: Johnson.

He sat sweating and twisting his hands. His solicitor
tried to calm him, as Langton told Johnson that he had been identified as the man who had visited Courtney Ransford in Parkhurst prison and had passed poison to him to be given to Eamon Krasiniqe. Johnson would therefore be implicated in Krasiniqe’s murder.

He interrupted. ‘Listen, I just work for Orso, right? I do what he tells me to do. I was told to take the stuff in; it was nothing to do with me, I just carried out orders. If I didn’t do what he wanted…’

‘So are you saying that Emmerick Orso handed you these rock cakes?’

‘No, he didn’t give them to me. I had to go to Peckham and collect them from Camorra. I didn’t know what shit was in them; I swear before God, I didn’t know. I am not going down for this. I just did what I was told to do.’

Langton sighed. ‘Yes, but who told you to do it?’

‘Camorra–well, my boss sent me over there. He said Camorra needed to sort something out. It was connected to this guy Arthur Murphy, that was all I knew. I swear before God I didn’t know it would send the kid crazy.’

‘Did you know Arthur Murphy?’

‘No.’

‘How often did you go to the house in Peckham?’

Johnson gasped, taking short sharp breaths; his eyes bulged.

Langton tapped his pencil on the table with impatience. ‘Did you go on a regular basis?’

‘No, no, I didn’t. It belonged to Eugene Camorra.’

Langton turned to Anna. ‘Eugene Camorra? You sure about that?’

‘Yeah. He uses a lot of other names, but that’s the one I know him by. Eugene, that’s his real name.’

‘Do you know what the house was used for?’

‘No.’

‘So how often did you go there?’

‘Not recently–I didn’t go there recently.’

‘Well, if you didn’t go there recently, when did you go?’

‘Few years back.’

‘One? Two? How many years back?’

‘Listen, Eugene was doing stuff there. He’s a freak. I mean, sometimes I’d go, you know, for sex–but not recently.’

‘Sex?’

‘Yeah, he had girls working for him.’

‘What girls?’

Johnson was now sweating; he used the same box of tissues that poor Ella had plucked at to wipe her face. ‘Oh shit, every time I open my mouth I feel like I’m digging myself into a hole, but I done nothing.’

‘These girls, were some of them underage?’

‘What?’

‘I said, were some of the girls underage?’ Langton snapped.

‘I never went with them, but yeah, some of them were.’

‘Do you know this girl, Carly Ann North?’ Langton slapped down the photograph that Dora had given them.

Johnson stared for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No, I don’t know her. I had nothing to do with her.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Ah, shit man. I’m getting all wound up. This isn’t right. I didn’t know her.’

Langton now placed the mortuary shots of Carly Ann in front of him. Johnson recoiled. This was followed by
the horrific photo of the mutilated boy found in the canal. Now Johnson was really caving in: the sweat stained his jacket and dripped down his face.

Langton placed more photographs down as if he was dealing a game of poker: Arthur Murphy, Eamon Krasiniqe, Rashid Burry, Gail Sickert, her little girl. The more he was forced to look, the more agitated Johnson became. Lastly, he was shown the e-fit of Joseph Sickert.

‘No, no, I didn’t know him,’ he said, gasping for breath.

‘Let’s start again from the top, Mr Johnson. Tell me what you know about Carly Ann North.’

Johnson stood up. He was shaking. ‘No, you can’t. I got nothing to do with these people, I swear before God.’

‘Sit down!’

The man slumped into his seat. His lawyer leaned close, whispering; he sat listening, his head bowed. He repeated that all he had done was take the food into Courtney, that’s all he had ever done, and he was not connected to any of the other crimes.

‘But you do know about them, don’t you?’ Anna said. ‘You must know about Rashid Burry. You said you went to the house in Peckham.’

Johnson’s lawyer held out his hand. ‘Could I please have a few moments alone with my client?’

Langton spoke into the tape recorder that they were leaving the room and turned it off.

Anna followed Langton into the corridor. ‘He’s sweating like a pig and we haven’t even got to his boss yet.’

Mike Lewis walked towards them. ‘Thought you might like to know: we have been on a paper-chase that was mind-blowing. Emmerick Orso bought the house in
Peckham eight years ago. It was buried as a company purchase, for use by his employees. Water bills, electricity and gas bills are sent to a box number in Clapham. So far, we’ve got over a hundred and fifty different post office boxes! Household bills also appear to be paid out from another property in Clapham and another one in Tooting. We reckon he also owns numerous others, but I thought you’d want to know about the Peckham house and the other properties as they link to the bus tickets found on Joseph Sickert.’

Langton nodded and turned, as Johnson’s lawyer came out and said quietly that his client wished to give a statement. In return for assisting their enquiries, he wanted a deal on the charge of being an accessory to the murder of Eamon Krasiniqe. ‘I truthfully believe that my client is only directly linked to that case; perhaps he has information regarding the other.’

‘I can’t offer any deal until I know what he’s got in exchange,’ Langton told him.

‘I think a deal will really be beneficial, Detective Chief Inspector Langton.’

‘For him or for us?’

‘For you, obviously: he’s going to give information on Eugene Camorra.’

Anna and the rest of team were unaware that Langton already knew that Camorra was the man who had attacked and almost killed him.

‘Let’s see what he’s got then, shall we?’

T
he case that had felt as if it was running away from them was now back on track. David Johnson’s work as bodyguard and driver to Emmerick Orso had been lucrative. He had kept his mouth shut, and it had paid off: he and his family owned a house in Esher. He had been a trusted employee, working first at the warehouse, but said he knew little of the actual running of the business; he had been orchestrating the deliveries and the lorry drivers. He had, however, been fully aware that the cargo was often not African artefacts, but illegal immigrants.

He said that he had first met Joseph Sickert at the warehouse; he was an illegal immigrant, one of the loaders, and had been a big strong man, with no signs of his sickle cell disease obvious at that time. As Sickert couldn’t drive, he was moved out to work at the house in Peckham, as one of Camorra’s henchmen. It was here that Sickert met Arthur Murphy and Vernon Kramer; this was before Murphy murdered Irene Phelps. Rashid Burry was dealing drugs and often used the women at the house. Camorra ran the house, selling children and women, who often were addicted to drugs by this time.

‘Sickert was a big guy and knew how to handle his
fists; he could be a real mad bastard. Nothing phased him–he was always ready for a fight.’

Johnson was unclear about what had caused the rift between Camorra and Sickert; all he knew was that Sickert was being kept short of money. Sickert’s earnings were being siphoned off to pay for his wife and two children to be brought into the UK, and he constantly asked when this would happen.

Johnson became a little confused about the exact time it had all started running out of control. Sickert had begun to be disgusted by the scene at the Peckham house and tried to get to see Orso, turning up at the factory and causing trouble.

Camorra was heavily into voodoo and drugs, and had orchestrated a sickening ceremony with a young boy who had just been brought to the UK. Carly Ann North, his girlfriend at the time, was terrified and tried to run away. She had started to have sex with one of the Camorra gang, Eamon Krasiniqe; when Camorra found out, he went berserk. He caught up with Carly Ann and brought her back to the house, where he raped her and then forced Idris, Eamon’s brother, to also have sex with her. Then he killed her.

Rashid Burry ordered Idris Krasiniqe to dump her body and cut off her head and hands. When Langton asked Johnson if he was one of the men in the white Range Rover, he denied it, but said he was certain that Camorra was sitting in the car, watching, with Rashid Burry. He said that Burry had told him what a close shave it had been when the street cop had turned up.

When Idris Krasiniqe was arrested and charged with Carly Ann’s murder, he named two other men who were with him: both had been, at some point, working
for Camorra. Camorra and Rashid Burry went to a halfway house to track them down. This was, coincidentally, the same time that Arthur Murphy killed Irene Phelps and went into hiding at Vernon Kramer’s hostel–the time when Camorra had, wrongly, surmised that the police were closing in on his operation.

According to Johnson, this was also around the same time that Orso became concerned by Sickert. Orso wanted him taken care of. Orso knew that Sickert’s two sons were in the UK: he was even employing his wife, Ella, as his maid! Orso had given Johnson orders to get rid of Sickert. The latter was sent to stay at Murphy’s sister’s bungalow.

Then Murphy turned up, threatening Camorra. He had killed Irene Phelps and he wanted a passport and money to get out of the country; if Camorra didn’t supply them, he said he would tip off the police about the Peckham house.

Murphy was caught and sent to Parkhurst prison, where Eamon Krasiniqe was already an inmate. Krasiniqe had been forced to work for Camorra like a pack mule, due to his relationship with Carly Ann; he had also been pumped full of drugs, and was out of his skull when he was arrested.

The mess that Camorra had created was threatening to come too close to Orso’s business empire. When Orso was informed about Arthur Murphy’s threats, he gave the orders for Camorra to get rid of Murphy; he didn’t care how he did it.

All Orso needed was for Johnson to deliver something to Krasiniqe, who would deal with Murphy; that would end all the problems.

Johnson said he wasn’t feeling good about it, but Orso
insisted he should go along with it. ‘I swear before God, on my children’s lives, that was all I did. Orso told me to pick up this package and go to visit a bloke called Courtney Ransford. I was to hand it over. That was all I did.’

Langton pressed on, asking about Gail and her children.

Johnson closed his eyes. ‘No sooner did Camorra sort out the Carly Ann thing, than another problem surfaced. Sickert was getting uptight: the police had been round looking for Murphy and he got his wires crossed–he thought they was coming for him. He was sick and he was screwing Murphy’s sister. I dunno what went on there; all I know is Mr Orso was furious and went round to Camorra in Peckham. I drove him there. I dunno what happened, as I was parked outside; he was there no more than fifteen minutes. Next thing, it all spirals out of control: the press is full of pictures of Sickert and these two kids, and the bodies found at Murphy’s sister’s place. Mr Orso said to me he was shutting down the Peckham house, as Camorra was too much of a liability; but his main worry was that Camorra knew his entire business. He said he would bring Camorra to his place and keep him holed up there until he could get him out of the country. He said he had to clear up the Sickert problem first.’

Johnson continued, explaining that Orso and his wife and daughter went abroad for a holiday, while his men went to the bungalow. Camorra and Rashid Burry brought Sickert, and Murphy’s sister’s two kids, back to Peckham.

Langton leaned over the table. ‘So, are you saying that Camorra and Burry went to pick up Sickert?’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’

‘Gail Sickert was found murdered; so was her small daughter.’

‘I swear before God I dunno what they did. I was just looking after the house in Redhill.’

Johnson said that when Orso and his family returned from their holiday, he expected it all to have been finished with. However, Camorra was at the house when Sickert turned up with the two kids. He saw his wife, Ella, and started screaming about where his own boys were. Orso tried to calm him down.

Johnson was tired out. His head drooped, and he sucked in his breath. ‘Sickert did a runner out the back door with the kids. I couldn’t find him. I dunno where he went.’

‘Did you have a fight with him?’

‘I tried to get him to calm down, but he was real crazy; we had this fist-fight. One of the kids–the little boy–was trying to pull me off him.’

‘And Camorra was also at Mr Orso’s residence?’

‘Yeah, I’d picked him up while they was on holiday. By this time, he’d shut up shop in Peckham and Mr Orso was making arrangements for him to leave the country.’

It took another hour for them to read back David Johnson’s lengthy statement to him, and for him to sign it. When the trials were mounted, he would become a vital prosecution witness. The statement would have to be checked out; until Langton was satisfied, Johnson would be held at the station.

Armed with the information from Johnson, Langton waded into the interrogation of Emmerick Orso. On the advice of his solicitor, Orso refused to answer any questions and said only, ‘No comment.’ His arrogant, handsome face showed not a flicker of remorse when
the charges were read out; he just stared straight ahead. Langton decided not to waste any more time on him and had him taken back to his cell.

The team were gathered in the incident room, taking a break, when Langton was asked by one of the uniformed officers if it was still permissible for Camorra to have food brought in. Langton joked that he wanted to personally check it out: with what Camorra had got away with so far, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had the key to his cell in the steak tartare! As they ate sandwiches and coffee, Camorra ate a three-course meal. Harry Blunt went on a tirade about allowing the bastard to eat special meals: his lawyer had requested the permission, as his client had an eating disorder! Langton seemed in no hurry to begin the main interrogation. Time was on their side.

Camorra was brought to the interview room with his solicitor. He was cocky, and said that he should be allowed to have a change of clothes; he indicated his scruffy tracksuit. The laces had been removed from his trainers and he wore no socks. He was asked to state his name and address, and whether he understood the charges he was to be questioned about. Anna wondered if, like Orso, he would play out the ‘No comment’ strategy, but he leaned back in his chair, smiling. He gave his name as Eugene Camorra and his address as Orso’s property.

‘Did you know Carly Ann North?’

‘Yes, very well: she was my girlfriend.’

‘Could you tell us where you were on the fifteenth of November, last year?’

‘Yes, I was at my house for most of the day; in the
evening, I was playing cards with four friends. If you want to know why I remember the exact date, it’s because that was the night she was found murdered. It was a terrible thing, to be told that one of the men working for me, Idris Krasiniqe, had killed her.’

Langton and Anna listened as he went into a lengthy explanation of how shocked and distressed he had been, as he had loved her. He was stunned when they told him that Carly Ann had planned to run away with Krasiniqe’s brother, Eamon.

‘I gave that girl everything. When I first met her, she was out whoring on the streets; she was on drugs and I took her in and cared for her. I wanted to marry her–nothing was too much for me to do for her.’

‘We will require a DNA sample from you.’

The man leaned forwards. ‘I had sex with the bitch before she left me, so whatever you need my DNA for won’t be any use. That’s how she tricked me–she made love to me and then, as soon as my back was turned, she ran off.’

‘Did you own a white Range Rover?’

‘No, it belonged to Mr Orso’s company. I never drove it. I’ve got a problem driving automatics–can only drive ones with gears–so I never used the car. One of my guys drove it: Rashid Burry.’

‘Are you saying that you were never inside the Range Rover? You were never a passenger?’

‘Could be. You see, I am trying to answer everything you ask me, because some of the charges you are trying to pin on me is just out of space, man. You got to understand, I work for Mr Orso; I am just employed by him.’

‘But you admit that Idris and Eamon Krasiniqe worked for you?’

‘In a roundabout way, yes; it’s like they work for me but also work for Mr Orso, know what I mean? He sends me the brothers and they stayed at the house in Peckham.’

‘Could you please list the names of the people you employed who lived at those premises?’

‘Christ, I dunno; they came and they went.’

‘Just start with recently: the men and women living at the house with you?’

It was like pulling teeth: each question, Camorra took lengthy explanations over, claiming he had a bad memory for names. He constantly threw in Rashid Burry’s name and, each time, made him seem more important in the running of the house. The more he talked, the more he attempted to distance himself from anything to do with the house in Peckham. He claimed not to be aware that some of the people over whose heads he ‘just gave a roof until they settled’ were illegal immigrants. He could not recall meeting Arthur Murphy, but said that perhaps he had not been at the house when Murphy had called round. He denied knowing Vernon Kramer and constantly implicated Emmerick Orso, saying that he was just his employee.

‘You gotta understand, I was more or less running a kind of bed and breakfast; there was a lot of traffic every week. I got someone cooking and doing laundry, but basically that’s all I was doing–running the place.’

Camorra did not recall very much about Joseph Sickert: just that, at one time, Sickert had stayed at the Peckham house. He did not know anything about any arrangements Sickert had made with Mr Orso for his wife and family.

The more they questioned him, and appeared to
accept his answers, the more confident Camorra became. He made wide expansive gestures, at times appearing amused and at others times appearing to be concerned, as he gave some thought to their queries. He had laughed when asked if he was practising voodoo.

‘Oh, man! As if! That’s a load of shit those idiots believe in. Me? No way, man, no way–it’s not my scene.’

Anna asked if he could give her an example of what his day-to-day routine was.

‘Well, you know, I’d have to check the kitchen, see what we needed: bread, sugar, cleaning equipment…You’d be amazed at how much garbage we’d have–I used to get these big rolls of industrial black bin-liners. Some of these people that stayed had no English and shat on the floor. I’m not kidding–they was like animals.’

‘Did you look after children at the house?’

‘Sometimes they’d be sent over, yeah, but I’d get one of the women to see to them.’

‘Can you give us a list of the children who were brought to the house?’

‘Christ, I dunno. Like I said, they came and went.’

‘Did you ever perform any kind of ceremonies at the house?’

‘What?’

‘Did you at any time perform ritualistic ceremonies at the house?’

‘No way.’

‘There is a cellar at the house, isn’t there?’

‘Yeah, but that was used mostly for keeping the dogs. You know, I am very worried about my dogs ’cos Mr Orso’s not at home; who’s taking care of my dogs?’

Anna said they were in the police kennels and being well looked after. At this point, Camorra licked his lips and said he was thirsty. Langton shrugged. The old station did not have any water fountains, so they had brought water in with them in a large plastic water bottle. This was now empty.

‘Do you know a Doctor Elmore Salaam?’ Langton asked.

‘No. I’m really thirsty,’ Camorra repeated.

Langton bent down and picked up a smaller water bottle from beside his chair; he unscrewed the cap and poured out some water for Camorra, then half-filled his own plastic cup.