Cold Killers (31 page)

‘Well, they’re very “girly” girls so I’ll get one yellow and one pink.’ He picked up the outfits and handed them over to the stallholder. Ross reached in his
pocket.

‘How much?’

‘Aren’t you going to haggle?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s not a lot of money.’

‘That’s beside the point. You have to haggle, otherwise he’s not doing his job properly. And the next tourist that comes along will have to pay even more and so on, it will
just keep creeping up,’ Willis said.

‘Life’s too short to haggle,’ he said, handing over the money and then turning to her. ‘Anyway, did you haggle for the sunglasses you bought?’

‘No, because he had a deal going on when you bought more than one pair: they were three for ten euros.’

‘You could have gone for four for ten or three for nine or four for eight. You just didn’t try.’

‘Shut up.’ She smiled.

‘Come on, let’s have a beer and lunch.’ Ross picked up his flamenco dresses and steered her towards a café.

‘What is it, Scamp, eh?’ Carter tied Scamp’s lead to the handle of the bin cupboard and made sure he couldn’t get away before he took a step back into
the house.

‘Melvin?’ Carter walked a couple of paces into the hallway. Straight ahead of him, down at the end of the hall, he could see an upright fridge and the edge of a worktop and what he
presumed was the glass-fronted door to the kitchen. There were other doors – one on the left and two on the right. The first of the doors to his right was closed. He knocked, heard nothing,
then turned the handle and stepped into a dark bedroom that smelled of unwashed clothes and damp. The carpet was sticky beneath his feet. Carter stayed in the doorway and waited for his eyes to
adjust to the dark. The bed was empty. The duvet was half on, half off.

Carter stepped back into the hallway. There was light from a room on the left filtering in through the slightly open door. Carter stopped, called again. No reply. He could smell the kitchen;
someone had been cooking. The smell of roasting meat still hung in the air, not fresh, but stale, fat-congealed, charred, tinges of crackling, a hint of pulled pork. He lifted his chin to smell it
again, deeper. He turned towards the partially open door on the left. Carter took a step nearer; he tried gently pushing the door open but it was jammed. He applied more pressure. He felt his
weight pushing against something that was slowly giving; he heard the roll of castors.

His burned legs were spread. His cock was cut at the base of the shaft. The blood had dried down his leg. His testicles were scorched like black coals. Skin hung as curled paper off his legs,
crotch, arms, torso. It hung, curled and blackened in neat pulled strips. Someone had taken time over the torture. It was an expert’s touch of extracting maximum pain. Each strip of skin
began with a slice and ended with a curl of crackling. Carter took a step inside the room and then recoiled. Every part of Carter’s instinct told him to look away, to run, to throw up. Every
part, except the police officer part. He walked towards Melvin, who was sitting in the armchair behind the door.

Melvin’s arms were limp by his side but his hands were twisted palms up. His head was tilted back and from his gaping neck wound, slit beneath the chin, his tongue stuck out and was pulled
down towards his sternum.

Four hours later, Della was done. She looked at herself in the mirror. Tracy fiddled with the long fringe on the shoulder-length brunette wig, swept the fringe to one side.

‘There, pretty sure no one would think you’re wearing a mask. You’ll be okay with fixing this on yourself with more liquid latex?’

‘Definitely.’ Della smiled at her reflection. She could see the face of a woman whom no one would look twice at. It was a hard face. It was a face that would be difficult to
remember.

‘It suits you to go dark. The eyebrows look dramatic; they change your look completely. You’ll need to dye them if you want them to stay that dark. Use this brown dye and then add
black with pencil, otherwise they’ll be too obvious without the mask. I think they’re important to finish the look. You just need to go and buy a new wardrobe now. I would stick to dark
colours. What about going for trouser suits instead of your usual dresses or jeans? A smart Armani suit maybe. That would look fab with a straight wig like this.’ Tracy took Della’s
brunette wig off and placed a long black one on. She made sure the shorter fringe was sitting properly. ‘That’s pretty chic. I prefer this one. It goes with your Roman nose, the
cheekbones.’

‘So do I but, unfortunately, I don’t want to look great: I want to look like someone who doesn’t want to be recognised. The other wig is the one.’

Tracy swapped it back.

‘Great, thanks, Tracy. I love my new face.’ She laughed. ‘You’re a genius. I need to buy some cheap leggings, a big hoody, I need to scour a few charity shops, I think,
and I need to take a passport photo now.’

‘Can you get a passport?’ Tracy asked, and then immediately shook her head. ‘No, don’t answer that.’

‘Yes. I can, if I pay enough. Eddie’s left me some names of people who can help.’

‘I’ll take the photo for you here, I use a good camera for taking photos of the models downstairs.’ Tracy picked up a camera case from the shelf at the side of the room and she
cleared some space.

‘Come and stand here against this sheet. This will be fine. Tracy took several photos. ‘Where do you want me to send the photos?’

‘Better email me them to this phone, please, Tracy.’ She gave her the number.

‘Here, take it all off now and we’ll put it in a plastic box for you, I’ll bag up everything you need.’

‘What do I owe you, Trace?’

‘Nothing, you’ve often been kind to me in the past. If you could have Jackson and me out to stay, when you’re home and things have settled down? He would love it.’

‘It’s a deal.’ She hugged her.

‘Anything else you need, just ring me,’ said Tracy.

Della used the reception phone on her way out of the salon.

‘Where do you want to meet?’

‘Holloway Road, drive along it towards Archway from Highbury and Islington, left turn just before you pass Holloway Tube Station on your left, Hornsey Street. I’ll be waiting along
there. If you are going to put it into your satnav, you’ll have to make sure it can be erased.’

‘That’s okay. I think I’ll be able to find this.’

‘I’ll wait for you outside and we’ll get the car off the road into the underground car park.’

Carter was standing just where he said he would be when Della pulled up beside him and he got into the passenger seat and gave her instructions for parking in the underground car park. He used
his security code to gain entrance. There were mostly empty spaces.

‘This is a new development. I don’t remember any of this being here.’

‘Yes, new stuff being built all the time. But this place still has a few empty flats.

‘This is a fairly new acquisition by the police. My office is just up the road, maybe it’s a bit near, but I would feel better if I could get to you quickly.’

They took the lift up to the third floor and Carter opened the door to an apartment that was smelling unlived in.

‘The furnishings are a bit Spartan, I know.’

‘It’s fine.’ She smiled reassuringly at Carter. ‘Thanks for choosing this one for me. I know how grotty they can be. Are you okay, Dan? You look done in. Is there
anything I should know?’

‘I’m fine.’ Carter was thinking to himself that there were a million things Della shouldn’t know. There wasn’t one positive thing he could tell her. He had decided
it was best to withhold the information about Melvin and his necktie. ‘Let’s concentrate on you.’ He smiled. ‘What happened when you got to Shoreditch Mews, after leaving us
yesterday?’

‘Nothing happened – not much, anyway. Laurence turned up acting weird, like he owned me. Marco was nowhere to be seen until about one in the morning, when he turned up looking like
he’d been cage fighting. And Harold was his usual monosyllabic self. He disappeared again for most of the evening. He didn’t want to talk when he came in just before Marco, in the early
hours. Marco was still up but they don’t really speak to one another. They’re not the best of mates, neither one trusts the other, but both of them are pretty focused on what Tony
wants.

‘I had to make sure, if they want to get the diamonds, they both understand these are my rules. I think Marco will be meeting with the Zapata cartel this evening. He said so.’

‘We can put a tail on him. Do you think you can get a bug on him somewhere?’

‘I think if I try, and I fail, I’ll probably end up like Eddie. But, he’s going to expect to be followed, watched. He’s going to be suspicious if you don’t
try.’

‘I feel so much stress about all this, Della. I wish you’d just run. I wish you’d hide away and we’ll figure out some other way of letting you live your life in peace. I
feel responsible. It’s almost unbearable.’

‘Dan’ – she smiled – ‘you know it’s not possible for me to run, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your concern. Whatever happens, I know
you’ll do your best, and that’s usually good enough. Just think like a detective, Dan, not like a friend.’

Carter nodded. ‘You said you had to follow leads, check security boxes, pretend to meet old cons. Have you worked out how it will look best?’

‘Yes, I’m starting with the security box this afternoon. I think I will go out to the countryside in Kent after that. That’s where Tony always thought the stash was hidden, in
a lockup somewhere.’

‘What’s going to be in the security box to help your story?’ Carter gave her a sideways smile.

She held up her hands. ‘I really don’t know, believe me. It was Eddie’s style to sit on stuff, save it for a rainy day. Probably there will be cash. Maybe there will be
jewellery. He used to give me a lot of jewellery. I know there will be something useful in there for us because he left me instructions about it.’

‘When does the shipment arrive from Mexico?’

‘I’m not sure even Marco knows that yet. I’ll find out from him as soon as he does but we’re talking days not weeks.’ She smiled, nodded. ‘It will be all
right, Dan. I told you, just keep your detective’s head on and we’ll be fine.’

‘And you keep your wits about you.’

Della opened the curtains a little and looked down at the courtyard below.

‘I will, I promise. This is the most important week of my life, Dan. I have to do or die. I know you can only help me so far. I know you’ll do your best for me, like you always
did.’ She turned back from the window and smiled at him. He bowed his head.

‘Am I allowed a hug?’ she asked, cocking her head to one side and smiling.

He opened his arms.

In the courtyard below Laurence stepped out of vision of the apartment. He’d followed Della with the tracker he’d put in her handbag. During the day he’d lost
her for a few hours when she went into a beauty salon on Upper Street but then he’d picked up her trail again and it had led him here, right into the arms of her old lover. He looked at his
phone: he had a good photo of them both.

Ross was laughing and joking with the café owner as he ordered tapas from the menu in perfect Spanish.

Willis was staring at him.

‘What?’ He smiled when he had finished talking to the owner.

‘You can speak Spanish? You told Ramirez and Garcia that you couldn’t.’

He shrugged, nodded. ‘I’ve been out here on many occasions. They must have seen that. Pretty sure they knew I could understand what they were saying because they were careful. They
were cautious.’

‘Did you hear anything that would lead you to be sure about them? That they were corrupt?’

‘I’ve heard that they work in interesting ways from others. Garcia comes from a family of criminals and Ramirez has accepted hospitality from Butcher, stayed in his ski chalet in the
Sierra Nevada, that kind of thing. But I have also heard they have been responsible for the arrest of two big drug barons. One was over here from South America. Another was Spanish.’

‘Are they selective, then, in who they go after?’

‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’ Ross poured out his beer into the glass provided. Willis was drinking Pepsi. ‘Are they choosy about when to be good policemen and when
to be bad? And does the good outweigh the bad or is it always tipped in Tony Butcher’s favour? Or is it the way they work?’

Ross’s phone signalled he had a VIP email.

‘Excuse me.’ He picked it up to check it. ‘Interesting,’ he said as he turned it round and showed it to Willis. ‘This is a message back from the Dream Stone
Fireplace Company. Or, to be precise, the message has boomeranged back to me undelivered. They can’t be trading at all with the public. It all stays in-house. What about Manson?’

‘It’ll be interesting to talk to people today who had villas built by Eddie Butcher and Billy Manson,’ replied Willis. ‘I want to hear what the people who did business
with him thought of him.’

‘The main thing is to talk to the people he’s building for right now,’ said Ross. ‘If there is a dispute, we need to find out. I would love to look around a place
properly. You okay? You’re quiet. What news is there from home?’

‘There’s been a development with Della Butcher.’

‘Yeah, I know about the deal with the diamonds. Thanks for deciding to tell me about it, though, I appreciate that you’re not one for holding secrets between partners.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Chief Inspector Bowie was obliged to, in the end. If we are to catch Tony we had to know something as big as this. What are your thoughts on it?’

‘It seems like an enormous risk for Della. It’s the riskiest plan altogether. To pretend to have the diamonds to give to a cartel in exchange for their cocaine. Is that going to
work? And Della hasn’t even really got them? She’s lying to a cartel at the same time as she’s taking their cocaine.’

‘It won’t be her. All she has to do is convince Marco and Harold and therefore Tony that she has the diamonds. They have to know where they are and then the deal can be done.
Counterfeit money has been used before to lure and trap drug dealers. We think it will work.’