Death Trap (20 page)

‘You looking for Gazza?’ She slipped her glasses part-way down her nose, squinting her sharp eyes at Rio.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you mates of his?’ The woman’s eyes shifted to Strong and her gaze started dancing, obviously liking what she saw.

‘That’s right,’ Strong answered taking a step forwards, missing the tightening of Rio’s lips at his disregard for her order to let her do all the talking.

The woman’s brown-pencil lined eyebrow rose some more at Strong. ‘You’ll find him down the bookies, that new one that opened last month on the high street.’

Strong pulled out one of his most charming smiles as he took another step towards her. ‘We haven’t seen him for a while. How’s he doing?’

Larkin’s neighbour’s eyebrow dropped down as her mouth puckered. ‘Not good. He’s broke and he can’t get a job and I don’t think he’s a well man either.’

‘Not well?’ Rio jumped in. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

The woman shrank back behind her door. ‘Are you sure you’re friends of his?’ She didn’t wait for an answer, slamming her door and zipping the chain in place.

Rio tilted her head angrily at Strong. ‘I thought I told you who was going to be the mouthpiece.’

But, as usual, the man wasn’t seeing it her way. ‘Yeah, well she wasn’t responding to you now, was she. Probably lonely and liked chatting with a fella.’

‘Well she’d have to bloody be lonely to figure you for her knight in shining armour,’ Rio muttered, but loud enough for him to get the message.

As they went downstairs Strong whispered, ‘That doesn’t sound promising. He’s broke and he lives part-time in a betting shop.’

‘On the contrary, it confirms he needs money and it sounds like he’s ill.’

The high street had seen better days. Most of its shops were pawnbrokers masquerading as part-exchange electrical and digital goods stores, sunshine-yellow painted money lenders, anything for 99p stores and, of course, bookies.

‘Reckon this is it,’ Strong said, staring at the lavender and white sign for ‘Betcha’.

Rio told him, ‘You go in; you look like a gambler. I look too smart. Check he’s in there, place a bet and then come and fetch me.’

Strong laughed. ‘Too smart? You don’t know much about gambling do you?’ He went through the door and Rio caught the sound of horse racing on TV monitors before it closed again. A few minutes later Strong re-emerged.

‘He’s in there. He was keeping a close eye on the door and watched me as I filled in a betting slip. Only when I got it right and placed a stake at the counter did he lose interest. He’s definitely on the lookout.’

Rio nodded. ‘Let’s find out if Mr Larkin wants to help our inquiry . . .’

Strong swung the door back open and they entered. The shop smelt of despair and hopes being desperately clung on to. Rio didn’t need to look for Gary Larkin. He turned around on the opening of the door, a pen and slip in his hand. His appearance had gone further downhill since his mug shot five years earlier – more grey in his hair and a face so hollow it seemed life was slowly ebbing away from him. But his eyes were steely.

When he saw Rio and Strong come in, he seemed to murmur under his breath. He let his betting slip drop to the floor and put one of the free pens provided by the shop in his pocket. He waved goodbye to the cashier and began to leave the shop.

Rio got in his way. ‘Gary Larkin?’

The man she confronted looked into her face. ‘You know full well who I am, love. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting out of the way, I’ve got some business to attend to.’

He began to leave again but Rio laid her hand on his arm. ‘My name is Detective Inspector Rio Wray and this is Detective Jack Strong. We’re investigating the Greenbelt Gang raids and I was hoping you’d agree to answer a few questions that might help our inquiry.’

Larkin looked down at her hand, his mouth curling at the sides. She let her hand drop away.

Larkin looked up again. ‘Presumably, you’ve read my record? If you have, then you’ll know that me and mine don’t do friendly chats with the filth.’

‘Not even when it’s a matter of innocent people being murdered and terrorised in their homes? We’re not accusing you of anything; we’d just like your help. Other figures from your world are and we’re hoping you will too.’

Gary looked at her with contempt. ‘Very moving plea, Inspector, now if you don’t mind . . .’ And with that he walked out.

But Rio wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. She caught up with Larkin on one side, and Strong flanked him on the other, matched him step for step. He ignored them and kept going. He seemed to be heading back to his flat but then he clearly thought better of it and did an about turn. When it was clear they were going to get no joy from their man, Rio tried another tactic.

‘Gary – have you got a phone number for Samson?’

Larkin’s stride faltered on hearing his nephew’s name: he stopped, turned around. He didn’t look so confident anymore, his eyes blinking way too many times. ‘Samson? What Samson?’

‘Samson Larkin, your nephew. You talked about me and mine a minute ago so I’m assuming you have heard of your brother Terry’s son.’

‘Funny,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I don’t have a number for him . . .’ He hesitated slightly before adding, ‘What do you want to speak to him for?’

Rio gave nothing away as she answered, ‘He’s been skipping meetings with his probation officer. You know, just routine . . .’

‘That’s sounds a little too routine for the attention of someone who’s heading up the Greenbelt inquiry?’

‘Ordinary police work has to go on. And we thought, as we were speaking to you, we’d ask after Samson’s whereabouts. But that’s OK; we’ll find him ourselves.’ She watched his expression closely but could read nothing in it. ‘Look, Gary, if you change your mind about helping us – you know, anything, rumours or gossip about Greenbelt, your own pet theory about who’s doing it, anything – give us a call.’ She reached into her pocket, took out a card and offered it to Larkin. ‘Or better still come with us now.’

He ignored the card. ‘Oh yeah, and why would I bloody well do that?’

‘Eliminate yourself from the case. If you’ve got nothing to hide you’re going to be fine. However,’ Rio let the word ride between them, ‘if your name ends up in the frame we’re going to come back here mob-handed. Now an innocent man wouldn’t be worrying so much.’ She held up her palms. ‘It’s your decision.’

‘You’re not listening are you? My family don’t talk to coppers . . .’

‘Tell you what, Gary,’ Rio continued, her tone light and even, ‘why don’t you give your brief a bell and we’ll be in the car waiting outside your block. If you change your mind in the next ten minutes you know where to find us. If you don’t . . . well, who knows what will happen in the next twenty-four hours.’

She put the card back in her pocket and signalled to Strong. They walked back down the high street. As they turned into the road leading to Gary Larkin’s home, Rio looked back the way they’d come. Gary Larkin had disappeared.

As soon as they got back in the car outside the block of flats Rio confidently said, ‘I predict he’ll be back in five minutes—’

Strong turned to her. ‘No way. Let’s make a bet. I say Gazza’s back after five minutes.’

Rio didn’t do bets: brought back memories of too many arguments between her mum and dad when she was growing up and her father lost the mortgage money in some loser gambling game. But she was tempted . . . so tempted.

‘Alright, you’re on,’ she agreed.

‘Forfeit?’

Now that was easy. ‘You do everything I tell you to for the rest of this investigation.’

Rio’s heart lurched as she waited for him to name his price. ‘OK,’ Strong said slowly. ‘A kiss when and where I choose.’

‘Flip off, old man,’ Rio scoffed. ‘Ain’t going to happen.’

‘What you worried about? That you’ll like it? It isn’t like you’re connected to anyone, from what I hear, so why don’t you give those lips of yours a day trip out, lass?’

Not connected to anyone.
Rio thought of Calum. He didn’t own her; she could do what she liked with any part of her body.

And that’s why she said, ‘OK, you’re on. But you’re going to lose.’

He chuckled. ‘Better get those lips of yours ready for an outing.’

Four minutes later Rio grinned as she spotted Gary Larkin walking towards the car in the rear-view mirror as if summoned by an invisible hand of justice.

‘Thou must obey thine senior officer,’ Rio whispered to Strong triumphantly.

Larkin got closer and closer to the car. Rio reached for the door handle but froze when her person of interest walked straight past the car. Strong let loose a chuckle as Gary approached his block. Rio was in silent despair for two reasons.

Strong leaned across. Whispered, ‘Better get those lips nicely turned out . . .’

Rio pulled back when she saw Gary Larkin reappear. Checked her watch.

‘Still fifteen seconds on the clock.’

Come on, Gary.

Strong looked over at the red-lit digital clock on the dashboard.

Come on, Gary.

Gary was within an inch of the car when the clock struck the next minute.

‘Your lips are mine,’ Strong said sweetly as Larkin reached the vehicle.

Rio wound down the window getting back on with the job. ‘Hello again, Gary.’

He gave what sounded like a prepared speech. ‘I’ve been having a think about what you said. And I’m prepared to talk to you. Know why?’

Rio raised an eyebrow. ‘Because you want to clear your conscience?’

‘Nah. Coz I’m innocent.’

Rio smiled. ‘Let’s take the rest of our discussion down the station.’

While Strong accompanied their person of interest into the back of the car, Rio sent a text message to a member of her team:

Get everything ready.

twenty-five

11:16 a.m.

Adeyemi – Nikki’s boyfriend - pretended to enjoy the company of his friends and the soft music in the background inside the café style bar of the theatre that had once been a shoe factory in Peckham. But he wasn’t listening; hell, he couldn’t stop thinking about Nikki. He was worried about her. No, he was frightened for her since her uncle, aunt and parents had been murdered.

His mum disapproved of Nikki. ‘You need a girl your own age,’ was all she said, but the worry lines on her face told him she always meant so much more than the words leaving her mouth.

And as for his brother . . . well, Chiwetel only ever chatted about him studying hard to get a decent job, a one-way ticket out of the not-so-hip part of London SE15.
Not like me,
his brother often said with regret,
I’m part of the university of the street.

His family didn’t get it, didn’t understand how he and Nikki had just clicked on that student conference six months back. Best of all she made him laugh . . .

‘Earth to Ade, earth to Ade.’

He parked his worries about his girlfriend to the back of his mind – not too far though – as he looked across the small, round table at his mate Chrissie. She was pretty, ballsy, mixed white-black heritage, the type of woman his mother would welcome with open arms.

‘Are you with us, my friend?’ she blew over to him, her small twists dancing around her face. His two other friends sat looking at him with grins on their faces. ‘So are you coming with us to the all new urban production of
Henry V
set on a council estate here next week?’

Ade didn’t much fancy going out and about while Nikki was in such a fix.

‘I—’

His mobile pinged. He pulled it out. Text.

I’m at Peckam Rye station. Now. Come get me.

Nikki

Both rattled and relieved Ade pushed out of his chair. ‘Got to go.’

He didn’t even wait to hear the surprised comments of his friends as he hurried out of the bar, jumped the stairs two at a time and then hit the exit. And immediately bumped straight into a man . . . The man gripped his arms to stop them from falling.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said, but was soon on his way with no time to lose. Finally he was going to see Nikki, to see with his own two eyes that she was alright. Elation built inside him as he reached the main road. Two things puzzled him though – why had she signed the text ‘Nikki’? She never signed off her texts. And strangely, her number hadn’t come up like it usually did.

He reached for his phone the same time he turned a corner. But he never took it out because everything around him started to blur, tilt. He rubbed a hand against his eyes. His legs might be moving but they felt like they were wading through quicksand. He shook his head, but the world around him didn’t come right; it got worse. The colour of the doom-toned sky and buildings started to blend into one. He needed to stop or he was going to fall down. Ade didn’t understand what was going on. Maybe he had that bug that was doing the rounds? As he raised his foot instead of going forwards he tilted back against something hard.

‘Easy does it,’ a voice breathed into his ear. ‘You’re OK.’