Cold Killers (29 page)

Tony’s eyes settled on Ross.

‘That’s right. We now know Eddie died from a heart attack brought on by the stress of the torture.’

‘Okay, that’s all we need, thanks,’ said Ross. ‘We’ll be here for a few days if you need to get in touch via the police station.’

Tony was still staring out into space when they got up to leave the Don’s office.

Willis held on to Ross as he walked forwards to where Sandra and Debbie were sitting on the white sofa, waiting their turn to be interviewed.

‘I want to go outside and have a look at the land around Eddie’s villa.’

Ross nodded. ‘I understand what you’re saying.’ He called Garcia over and told him what Willis wanted to do.

‘Why?’ asked Garcia. ‘We don’t have permission; we don’t have a search warrant for that villa.’

‘I don’t need one to look at the outside of it.’

‘No, of course not, but we don’t want this raid compromised. We have been planning this for a long time. You go where you are not supposed to and that’s it. Everything is
wasted.’

‘Excuse me for a moment,’ said Ross. ‘Let me understand what you’re saying here. My colleague is asking to walk out on a piece of no-man’s-land and look for the
missing man and child and you’re saying that Tony didn’t give us permission?’

‘No, I’m not saying that.’

‘Good, because, I have a lot of questions about this raid.’

Garcia went across to Debbie.

‘This British policewoman wants to look at the grounds between here and Eddie Butcher’s villa.’

Debbie looked from one officer to another. Sandra stared on, cigarette in hand. She’d been given a coffee. ‘There is no one occupying my brother Eddie’s villa at the
moment,’ Debbie replied. ‘His widow has gone away for a short break. I don’t have a key.’

‘But I can walk from here to there, right?’ Willis asked.

‘Sure, if you want to you can, but you need to be careful: there are dogs roaming sometimes in the early mornings. You need to take a stick.’

‘I’ll be okay.’

‘I’ll send Sheena, our housekeeper, with you,’ said Debbie.

Willis took Ross aside.

‘Is that okay, sir? We’re only being shown what we were supposed to see. I need to look further. We’ve had some intelligence from home and I need to go and check it
out.’

He nodded his agreement. ‘This is a sham. All the computers were gone. They’ve left just enough evidence to make it look like they were caught unawares, but they weren’t. Be
careful; stay on your phone. I’ll talk to Debbie and Sandra while you’re gone.’

‘Ma’am?’ Sheena was waiting for Willis when she walked out to the front of the villa. Willis left Ross and followed Sheena.

‘Are we going via the almond grove, the land at the back of the house?’

‘No, ma’am, it’s better by the road.’

‘Can we get to it by going this way?’ Willis pointed away from the road; she had already seen the route, between the two villas, on Google Earth. She knew the route was
straightforward.’

‘Very poor ground underfoot, ma’am. You cannot see what is there.’

‘That’s okay. I’d like you to take me via the back of the villa, please.’

Sheena stopped and turned and looked behind Willis, as if looking to see if they were being followed.

‘Follow me, please, ma’am.’ Willis followed Sheena along to the side of the lane and the path that led off, across the wasteland.

‘Is that Eddie’s place?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Sheena, it’s just us here. Nothing you say will go further, can you tell me what has been happening here?’

‘Sorry, ma’am? What do you mean? I don’t understand.’

‘Okay, I’m looking for something here.’ The light had reached the day now and the sky was full of soft, blushing peach, and slithers of gold and purple. The ground, the olive
and almond trees were like an impressionist oil painting in the softest of lights.

Willis looked at the stone hut that came into view on her left.

‘Can you just wait back here, Sheena? I just need to get my bearings.’

‘Ma’am.’

Willis walked forward with the crunch of dried undergrowth and chippings beneath her feet. As the light came rapidly to the day there was a perfect stillness. Somewhere a rooster crowed. A fire
glowed from beside the stone hut. A man was standing by it. He stared at Willis as she approached. He didn’t look like a farmer to her. He looked like the photo of one of Tony’s staff,
Danny Miller.

Willis approached. The early-morning breeze was gusting the sparks.

‘Is that dangerous?’ she asked. ‘I mean there are sparks flying.’

‘I’ve got it under control.’

Willis held up her warrant card.

‘UK Metropolitan Police, investigating the murder of Eddie Butcher. What’s your name, please, sir?’

‘Danny Miller, I’m the gardener here.’

‘For this villa?’

‘Mainly for Tony Butcher’s, but I help out anywhere I’m needed.’

‘What’s your job helping out here?’

‘Just burning rubbish.’

‘Whose is this piece of land?’

‘It’s nobody’s.’

‘But you’re allowed to come and bring your rubbish to burn on it? Is that legal?’

‘It’s legal enough.’

Willis walked nearer.

‘What exactly are you burning? The smoke smells pretty nasty.’

‘Just some old unwanted bits of furniture and things that have been dumped on the land here.’

‘Like what?’

‘There was a dead dog. It was attracting all the scavengers. I thought it best to burn it. I didn’t realise how long it would take or how much heat I had to get in the fire to do
it.’ In the red glow of the ashes bursting, Willis’s eyes smarted as the smoke drifted her way. She walked around to the hut and peered inside. Just then Miller poured on more petrol
and the fire exploded into a balloon of flames.

Ross stood in the Don’s office and stared at the fake windows, the three choices of lighting settings to appear behind them: bright, afternoon, and evening sunset. The
only thing wrong with the authenticity of the office, in relation to the
Godfather
films, was the smell, or lack of it. What smell there was was of new leather and cleaning polish. It
smelled like a set. It didn’t feel real.

‘This is great.’ Ross grinned at Tony. ‘It’s a nice touch. Is that what they call you around here? Don Corleone? Or just the Don?’

Tony sat down behind his desk as he waited for the officers to finish their cursory look around the rest of the place.

‘Ha-ha. What they call me is Mr Butcher. You like this room; you’re going to love what I got downstairs. You want to see the original car from the film, a 1953 Buick
Special?’

‘That’s impressive.’

‘You want to see?’

‘Love to.’

Tony opened up the door at the back of the office and led the way down the corridor, towards the garage. He opened the door into the forecourt.

‘How many cars have you got here?’ Ross asked as the halogen strip lights illuminated the corners of the large garage and rows of vehicles under covers.

‘Fifty-three last time I counted,’ Tony said as he flicked on more lights.

‘Where can you drive them round here?’

‘I take them around my grounds. I have a driver who keeps them ticking over. I can’t actually take them that far myself, at the moment.’

‘But you could leave this villa if you wanted, couldn’t you? We both know security is pretty lax here. I mean how often do you go for drinks with these guys, Ramirez and
Garcia?’

‘I told you, never. They visit me from time to time, of course, in an official capacity, like today.’

‘But you knew they were coming.’

‘I don’t know what you’re implying.’ Tony grinned.

He stripped off the cover from one of the cars to show Ross a shiny red Mustang beneath.

‘No that’s not the one,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have to go and look at the floor plan. I can’t remember where the
Godfather
film cars are.’

‘That’s okay, I can wait.’ Ross watched as Tony walked across between the cars and opened a door. He switched on a light inside. Ross stepped back a couple of discreet paces so
that he could get a look inside. It was a simple control room, but the smell coming from it was unmistakable. Someone had spilled a lot of bleach on the floor.

Ross started walking towards the entrance; the smell was eye-watering.

‘Did you find it?’

‘Still looking. The floor plan’s a bit confusing. Come and see for yourself.’

Beneath the smell of bleach there was a thick musty smell of turned meat.

Ross inched forwards and felt that prickle in his skin that was his fight-or-flight mechanism waking his nerve endings. It pricked at him like needles as it said, Don’t go near that door.
He could no longer see Tony and there was just the faint orange and red glow coming from lights on a switchboard inside the room. Ross heard the click of a revolver.

Della awoke early and lay in her bed listening to the noise from the road outside. She’d seen Marco and Harold in the early hours of the morning. Some ground rules were
established. Both men seemed to be in sombre mode. The reality seemed to be hitting them all. The enormity of what was happening. More could go wrong than right.

She checked her phone as she lay there: she had a message from Laurence. It made her skin prickle – made her anxious, seeing Laurence in this new light. Eddie had always joked about his
kid brother being in love with Della, but she hadn’t taken it seriously. Complications of that sort were the last thing she needed, but, on the other hand, she thought to herself, it could be
useful for staying alive. He might be a help to her, in the end.

Della thought about seeing her mum and dad. She ached to see them. She hadn’t properly given in to tears about Eddie, and she longed to be hugged by her warm loving family. But, she must
get on with the job first. She’d be going down that way, towards Ramsgate, soon enough. She was going to pick up the hire car and meet Carter, but there was someone else she wanted to see
first. She sent a text to Carter to tell him she’d be in touch mid-afternoon. Della decided to get up and get out before the other two stirred and she might have to answer questions.
She’d catch breakfast on the move. She showered in her
en suite
and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt as well as a parka to keep out the bitter cold. When she got outside, she hailed a
black cab to take her to Tower Bridge and the car-hire company.

She took the lease on a white VW Up, a small town car, and then drove to Islington Upper Street and pulled up on a side road, paid at the parking metre and walked back along Upper Street. She
found what she was looking for: a smart-looking, black-fronted beauty salon: Visage.

A blonde woman in her forties walked towards her as Della waited by the reception desk. The woman was smiling, holding out her arms.

‘Hello, Della, it’s so good to see you.’ She gave her a hug.

‘It’s good to see you, too, Tracy. How is my favourite cousin?’

‘I’m good, thanks. Come on, let’s go and grab a coffee and you can tell me what I can do for you. It was lovely to get your message.’

They walked up the road to the small café and ordered coffee.

‘When did you get back from the cruise ships?’ Della asked. ‘And how’s your grandson, Jackson?’

‘Jackson is wonderful, thanks, and I’ve been back a year now. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to Eddie’s funeral. I know we weren’t supposed to go, but I was
going to just stand in the crowd. In the end, Jackson was ill and I couldn’t make it. I ended up having to take a week off work to look after him. He’s living with me now. I’m
looking after him full-time. My daughter hasn’t been doing so well recently.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Tracy. It looks like you’re working in a nice salon?’

‘Yes, feels like I’m getting somewhere again. The owner of Visage has been really good to me. I pay to use the place. It feels more like I’m my own boss.’

‘Is that what you want to do, own your own beauty salon?’

‘God, yes. I’ve got so many ideas, Della. There’s so much I want to achieve.’

‘You still love it?’ Tracy nodded. She had toned down her look in the last couple of years. She had gone from ageing porn star to a soft, older beauty that saw her lose the heavy
eyebrows and the long lashes in favour of the natural look. ‘Do you still help out in theatre make-up?’ asked Della.

‘I do, now and again, to keep my hand in. I’ve always loved it. But Jackson takes a lot of my time. He’s a gorgeous little boy but a handful.’

Della smiled, nodded. She sipped her coffee.

Tracy looked at her enquiringly. ‘What brings you over here now, Della?’

‘I want you to do me a favour, Tracy. Well, it’s more than a favour: I need help. The police still don’t know why Eddie was killed or who did it, which is why I didn’t
want any of you coming to the funeral. I have come here to help them find out who killed Eddie, but it’s dangerous and I need all the help I can get.’

‘Anything I can do I’ll be happy to, Della. You’ve been so kind to me.’

‘Thanks, Tracy. I know we joked about it once before but I need you to try and change my appearance. I need you to make me a latex mask. I want to create a new me: wig, dress, make-up
– everything new. I’ll pay you, Tracy.’

Tracy held up her hand. ‘You’re family, and you’ve been good to Jackson and me. Just pay my costs and we’ll get on it straight away.’

‘Tracy, you don’t know how grateful I am.’

‘No problem. The mask will take about three hours to get it right. The rest we can go shopping for afterwards. I have wigs you can try on, see what you like, or I can get one for you cost
price. When do you want to get it done?’

‘As fast as we can – now, if possible,’ Tracy said with a hopeful look.

Tracy got out her diary. ‘Let me just go and check my books. If it looks free this morning, we’ll do it.’ She smiled up at Della and nodded. ‘Yes, you ready? I can do it
in the salon. I have everything we need there.’

Carter was on his way to work when he got a call from Chrissie, the barmaid at the Blind Beggar. He drove straight there.