Cold Killers (6 page)

‘Don’t call it a display. Don’t say that. It was the kind of funeral for statesmen. I’ll fucking kill the kid who threw that firework.’

‘It wasn’t what Eddie would have wanted.’

‘What wasn’t?’

‘He wanted to be buried here in Spain, in the olive grove, at the back of the villa. Something simple.’

Tony laughed, too loud, too long.

‘Did he? Really?’ Tony composed himself and grinned away as he went back to chopping coke. ‘I think he said that just to keep you happy. He said that to make sure you opened
your legs every day. Hey, princess?’

She stared at him. She couldn’t help feeling that Tony was getting madder every day. She couldn’t wait to leave, but, at the same time, there was something morbidly fascinating
watching Tony. She wasn’t going to be scared of him.

‘I saw it was pissing with rain,’ Tony continued, watching her closely. ‘I thought, Can you fucking believe it? But you know what? Then, I thought it added something regal to
the whole thing; what do you think, princess?’

He sidled to the edge of the sofa and reached over and laid his hand on her leg. She stared at it. It wasn’t the first time, but certainly it was the most blatant. He never would have
dared in front of Eddie. ‘Hey, princess?’ He patted her leg before removing his hand slowly. ‘I want you to move into one of our houses on this estate.’

‘Why would I do that? I’m all right where I am, in my own place. What did you want to see me about, Tony? I’m very tired right now.’

‘We’re all fucking tired,’ he snapped. ‘Okay. Okay.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘You’re tired, I understand. But I want you to come to dinner tonight;
Mum will be back. She’s going to need us all around. After all, she had to bury her son yesterday, not something any parent should have to do. Laurence and Harold are bringing her over and I
want us all to be together this evening. We need to talk, as a family. There are things to be discussed.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like the future and what Eddie would have wanted.’ Tony took a gulp of his drink and wiped his mouth. ‘Is Marco over at yours? Did he run you up here?’

‘Where else would he be? You sent him over to spy on me.’

‘Now, why would I do that? I put him over there to protect you. It’s what Eddie would want me to do. Now, more than ever, you need to be careful.’

‘Eddie was a legitimate businessman who was murdered. What has that got to do with me? The police will find who did it.’

‘The British police? Really? Do you think they’re not laughing themselves sick with all this that’s happening to us? It’s all their Christmases come at once. They must
think it couldn’t have happened to a nicer family. Eddie was tortured and executed. Now, I would say that was a little worrying, wouldn’t you?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand any of it. My husband built villas for a living. He was a property developer. He was not a criminal. Eddie didn’t need to make shady
deals, he earned good money from the villas.’

‘
Earned
, past tense. Not recently, princess. This lifestyle doesn’t come cheap.’ He shrugged and began splitting the cocaine into lines again. ‘Eddie had a life
you never knew about.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m only saying Eddie put himself at risk by dealing with the wrong people. He should have known better. Life is cheap, princess. But, don’t worry: we’re going to make
them pay for what they did to Eddie.’

‘Who? Who did it? Why don’t you tell me the truth?’

‘Because I’m still working it all out in here.’ He tapped the side of his skull with his forefinger. ‘Lots of things need to come together, princess, then it will be
crystal.’

Della got up and began walking away. He called after her.

‘Wear something sexy tonight, in honour of Eddie.’

Willis caught up with Carter at eleven that morning. He was heading into work.

She was about to head to Kent, to the Paradise Villas headquarters. She watched him lock his car. He looked distracted. She’d been waiting for him to get in touch since the previous
evening. He returned to pick up something he’d forgotten. He caught sight of Willis. She walked across to him.

She reached him as he passed the police vans. ‘I couldn’t get hold of you last night.’

‘Yes, sorry, I was dead on my feet.’

Willis was thinking that he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. He hadn’t shaved. He had the same clothes on as the day before.

‘I’m headed back to Kent to talk to Manson, the manager of Paradise Villas, again – I want to take more samples. Are you free to come with me?’

He nodded, a hanky over his nose. ‘Let’s do it.’

Carter drove out of the car park. Willis looked over.

‘You all right, guv?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘You look like shit.’

‘Thanks.’ Carter took a look at himself in the driving mirror and rubbed the stubble on his chin that sounded like sandpaper. I have a cold, that’s all, look in the glove
compartment and hand me that electric razor, will you?’

Willis found it and switched it on as she passed it over. ‘Do you want me to drive?’

‘No way.’ He glanced across, grinning. ‘We need to get there today.’

‘You come in late to work, and you still don’t manage to shave?’ Willis frowned.

‘Yeah, let’s leave this conversation, Eb, if you don’t mind. Things on my mind. Besides, that’s rich coming from you – you never make an effort and I meant to tell
you to do something about your moustache months ago. Didn’t have the heart.’

She thumped him on his arm.

‘Jeezus, Eb, go easy.’

Willis and Carter had worked together for five years. Ever since she’d joined the MIT, he had been her partner. He had been a DS then, and she a detective constable. Carter was like family
to her.

‘Got a lot going on, that’s all.’

He looked at his watch as he handed her the shaver back. ‘Right now I’m supposed to be in Tenerife. I’d be having my first bottle of ice-cold beer of the day.’

‘Why aren’t you?’

He looked at her with a wounded expression.

‘Christ knows, I didn’t want to cancel it, Eb, but this case is important to me. Jeezus! I was looking forward to it.’

‘We can handle this without you.’

‘Yeah, cheers for that.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I know, I know, but, Cabrina doesn’t really mind. She’s gone off with Archie and taken a mate with her instead; it’s still a couple of weeks in Tenerife. She’ll
have fun. There’ll be plenty more opportunities to go on holiday.’

Willis looked at her phone. ‘Shall I get the satnav working?’

‘Don’t worry, I know the way,’ Carter said. ‘We used to drive to Margate all the time when I was a kid. We’d all pile in the taxi and off we’d go. If we had
time Dad used to take detours on the way back. Swanley was one of them. They had a great fish and chip shop there.’

‘What about Ramsgate, do you know it well?’

‘I know it, yeah. Been there many times, too. It’s a bit more upmarket than Margate. It’s got some great restaurants. There’s an Italian there that I used to
rate.’

‘The one Della Butcher’s family own? Della Cipriani?’

He shook his head as he cracked a smile.

‘Christ, Eb, we’ve worked together too long and you must have done some serious digging to find that out.’

‘I suppose I did. I also read the report from the officer on duty where the wake was held. Della Butcher left in your car last night. Who
was
, or is, she to you?

‘I tried to find out about a family history for her but it says her parents live just outside Milan and then the trail ends. But she’s mentioned in Operation Argos. They gave her
maiden name as Vincetti, not Cipriani, and said that her last known address was in Ramsgate. Then I found out there are other family members there. What was she in Operation Argos? Was she a
suspect then? Most of the information about her is blacked out.’

‘I know, it’s complicated. She chose to change her name. Probably because she was marrying a Butcher. Maybe she didn’t want the Butchers to ever be able to interfere with her
real family.’

‘Again, how do you know all this? Who is she to you?’

‘We had a relationship once, many years ago.’

‘When?’

‘Let me think . . . I was in my mid-twenties. We met through our families, the Italian connection. My mum knew her dad’s family, that kind of thing.’

‘What happened? Why are you being so cagey about all this with me? It’s not like you.’

‘It’s difficult for me to talk easily about it. The usual happened, we didn’t make it. No one’s fault. The pressure of work, the relationship folded.’

‘Then she went on to marry Eddie Butcher?’

‘Exactly.’ He glanced across at Willis and rolled his eyes. ‘You couldn’t write it, could you?’

‘No, because it doesn’t ring true.’

‘It did to me, at the time. I was heartbroken.’

‘How did they meet?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure. It’s tricky, Eb.’

‘So, what did Della have to say last night?’

‘Nothing that helps. I gave her a lift back to her hotel near Gatwick. She was quiet. She didn’t understand why Eddie had been targeted and she didn’t think he had been into
anything other than legitimately building villas. She’s as much in the dark as we are.’

‘And you believed her?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘So what now?’ asked Willis as she looked across at Carter.

‘We treat it like we would any other inquiry.’

Willis kept her eyes on Carter’s profile. A lot of things were running through her mind. It was the first time in five years she didn’t feel she had Carter’s trust. Something
new had just happened between them. Carter hadn’t wanted her involved in a vital part of an inquiry. He had personal reasons. Willis could understand that but they were partners – and,
if Carter didn’t trust her enough to confide in her, then they were
not
partners.

‘Were you going to tell me?’ she asked.

‘Not if I didn’t have to.’

She shook her head, confused.

‘Eb, this is tricky ground. I feel the need to tread carefully. I don’t want you dragged into quicksand with me.’

‘Is that what you see this as, potential quicksand?’

‘A part of me does. I can’t lie. We all have things in our past, but they don’t all end up in a murder inquiry.’

‘Quicksand or not, I am in this with you.’

He nodded but she could see she hadn’t convinced him.

‘If nothing else, you’re a heavy bastard and you’ll sink faster than me and I can stand on you to get out.’

They took the road off the roundabout towards the small industrial estate named The Paddocks and pulled up at the gates. It was a smart estate, surrounded by a barbed-wire-topped steel fence.
There were big notices telling people to beware of the patrol dogs. They pulled up and Carter peered past the guard on the gate, who was sheltering from the elements in a small hut.

‘Pretty high security for a builders’ yard. The place looks deserted. Morning, what you guarding here?’ Carter said to the security guard. ‘The Crown Jewels?’ He
grinned.

‘Yeah, it looks like it, don’t it? You wouldn’t believe how much stuff gets nicked from sites.’

‘Where is everyone?’

‘Winding down for Christmas, I think. Most people knocked off this week except Mr Manson in Paradise Villas.’

‘That’s who we’ve come to see.’ Carter showed his warrant card.

‘Are you here about Eddie?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘I was sick to my stomach when I heard of what they did to him, poor bloke.’

‘When was the last time you saw Eddie Butcher?’

‘It was the day before Bonfire Night, the 4th. He was here for a few hours in the afternoon.’

‘Did he say anything to you? What was he here for, do you know?’

‘He was in his office most of the time. He seemed fine. We were talking about the celebrations, the firework displays and he said he was thinking of heading home to Spain by that evening,
he wasn’t going to stay around for them. We had a joke and a laugh.’

‘How did he seem?’

‘He was his usual chatty self. He was the kind of bloke who always gives you the time of day. He was a friendly sort. There’s Mr Manson.’

A man was walking to a white Range Rover. Carter called out to him and he stopped in his tracks and waited for them to reach him. He was still jiggling the keys in his hand,
still looking hopeful that he could leave any second.

Manson had a once-boyish face, but now it gained a little puffiness in his jawline. His blond hair was receding. He had large sapphire-blue eyes. He was wearing jeans and a blue Aran cardigan.
He looked as if he could have been in a boy band once.

‘Mr Manson?’ Carter showed his warrant card. ‘You’ve met my colleague before, Detective Sergeant Willis?’

Willis waved a hand in the air with a warrant card attached. She was standing a few feet away as she got a feel for the place and began taking photos.

‘What’s this about?’ Manson was looking past Carter towards Willis with a frown on his face.

‘Can we have a chat, please?’ Carter glanced back to Willis. ‘Don’t mind her, she doesn’t get out of the office very often. I’ll be honest with you,’
said Carter, slipping into his cheeky-chappy routine in the hope that Manson might loosen up. It was always Carter’s defence against people who spoke with a posh accent. He never felt at
ease. ‘Eddie Butcher’s murder is really proving difficult to solve, even finding out what he was doing over here seems an impossibility. He’s not the easiest man to research, if
you know what I mean. People are reluctant to speak to the police.’

‘Really?’ Manson tried to look genuinely puzzled.

‘It’s probably because a lot of his friends were ex-cons. Some of them not even retired villains, pretty active. You must have seen some sights, met some real types.’

Manson shrugged. ‘I didn’t socialise with Eddie outside work. I met the clients, obviously, but I never saw them like that, maybe they were ex-cons. Maybe, some of them are not the
most . . . I don’t know. Sorry, I don’t know what to say.’

‘I’m not trying to put you on the spot. They were clients, I suppose, and you built villas for them? They were Eddie’s contacts.’