Rat Poison (7 page)

‘Why is he referred to as that?' I enquired.

‘I understand it stems from when he shot and killed his nephew on account of the young upstart thinking it was about time he took over the old man's business.'

‘Do we know his real identity?' Patrick said.

‘Do these people ever have real identities? Once upon a time he was a man from East Ham by the name of Fred Gibbons who used to be a hairy yob with tattoos. This character disappeared for a couple of years after he came out of prison for robbery with violence and then a man with a shaven head came on the scene in the same area calling himself Dobson. So there was a bald yob with the same kind of tattoos getting up to the same kind of criminal activity. He went down for six years for the nephew's murder, the sentence reduced because he dropped any number of his seriously wanted so-called buddies in it and at the time the nephew was armed to the teeth and tried to shoot him first – you realize we're talking gang warfare here too. He went from sight again after release and then a man we're convinced is the same villain has popped up in Hammersmith with money to burn and, according to a reliable grapevine, is running a crime ring involving some of the same mobsters. This bloke has blond hair and the same kind of tattoos, although some of them seem to have been removed. Like Carrick, I've seen covertly taken pictures and agree with him that it's the same man: Uncle. This is the description that's been circulated to all police forces. The house he's living in is rented in the name of Brad Northwood.'

‘Were you sent the descriptions of the other people DS Outhwaite saw in the restaurant in Bath?' I asked.

‘I was, and quietly as I'm not up to full ops yet, I've been working on it. The woman with Uncle that night sounds like Joy Murphy. She's not his current squeeze – he usually has a few cast-off footballers' wives for that – more like an in-house harpy who acts as his bodyguard. Apparently she likes nothing better than to be let loose on someone Uncle's got a grudge against. She was probably involved in the mob war in Bath. I get the impression the rest of those present at the restaurant were locals known to Carrick.'

‘Someone called Charlie Gill,' I recollected. ‘And a Cardiff-based crook Carrick also knew about.'

‘He's probably aware by now that the latter mobster's very recently been picked up by the eastern division of South Wales Police to help with enquiries into a warehouse raid in which a security guard was shot and seriously injured.'

‘He also mentioned a woman who had more convictions for being drunk and disorderly than seemed possible but couldn't remember her name. She was with a man with ginger hair. He didn't recognize him from Lynn Outhwaite's description.'

‘I emailed Carrick about them,' Greenway said. ‘Just to get as much info as possible. She's one Gilly Darke, a local petty criminal. The man hasn't appeared on anyone's radar so might be perfectly innocent.'

‘Going out to dinner with a crime lord like Uncle must have been a bit of a culture shock then – if he even knew who he was,' Patrick drawled. ‘But why was a petty crook and her boyfriend there?'

‘Recruits?' I suggested. ‘Someone's been going around the pubs in the area looking for potential gang members. Were they brought along as they might know the set-up at Bath nick and/or CID? And you could ask Carrick how many male coppers there are in the area, past and present, with ginger hair.'

You are on dangerous territory when you say things like this to policemen. But as Greenway knows perfectly well, to bring in ideas from new angles is exactly my role. He gave me a straight look and then muttered, ‘Yes, all right, I'll get on to him.'

‘So what would you like us to do, sir?' Patrick asked.

There was a little silence and then Greenway answered with, ‘This is a brainstorming session.' He sat back in his chair with a tight smile and regarded us steadily. ‘Ideas, please, from my adviser and his consultant. I want to put together a list of proposals that you can take to Carrick with a view to getting quick results with this. And don't call me sir – you used to be a lieutenant colonel, for God's sake.'

‘You don't need anyone to search out Uncle as it's known exactly where he is – if indeed it is the right bloke,' Patrick immediately said, having chuckled at the final remark. ‘But you do need to build a copper-bottomed case against him before he's picked up and find out how far his empire stretches. Not only that, you need to know whether he really has got as far as Bath or if that was just him and a few cronies having a weekend off and living it up on their ill-gotten gains. I reckon he's had enough of being inside and is going upmarket having found rather a lot of emergency loot somewhere. He'll get his dirty work done for him from now on and if the hirelings are arrested that's tough on them. If we're not careful he'll be virtually untouchable, on the face of it living a respectable life. I'm prepared to go undercover with a view to infiltrating his set-up.'

‘Thank you but I don't think that needs to be our number one move.'

‘The interesting bit is the presence of the petty crook, Darke. Is she stunningly beautiful and possibly in line to decorate his bed, by the way? I haven't seen her description.'

Greenway consulted his computer. ‘Tall, medium build, brown hair, brown eyes, no other distinguishing marks. That doesn't tell us much.'

‘I'll ring Lynn,' I said. ‘She's at her mother's with a broken leg but will probably still answer her mobile.'

Lynn had a few choice words to say about Darke and in response to my query as to her own well-being grunted and then said that she would rather be at work and was planning to shoot the horse.

‘Grumpy as hell,' I reported. ‘In which case it might be wise to slightly temper her pronouncement that Darke resembles a pig's arse.'

‘I think it answers your question, though,' the commander said to Patrick. ‘And I can understand why Carrick doesn't want to pull her in at the moment. It's best to proceed with caution or they'll go to ground.'

I had an idea Carrick could not even find her but said nothing.

‘This Charlie Gill  . . .' I ventured.

‘James'll be able to fill us in on him,' Patrick said.

‘Yes, I know but he's someone you might expect to be involved if this man is trying to extend his criminal interests. Uncle might be offering him some kind of partnership with whatever he controls and then when he's got what he wants quietly have him dropped into Bristol docks one night in a weighted sack.'

‘And?' Patrick said.

‘Charlie might not be very bright and doesn't know who he's up against. So a friendly warning might not come amiss – hoping that he'll then be scared into coming up with some really useful info.'

‘It's too risky,' Greenway said. ‘Patrick's a local too – he'd be recognized.'

‘While it's no secret in Hinton Littlemoor that Patrick's working for SOCA I'm not sure about the wider area. But this doesn't have to be done undercover. I'm sure he could portray himself as a bit of a maverick – one of those cops who hover on the edge of the criminal fraternity.' I gave Patrick a big smile. ‘Sorry, I'm talking about you as though you weren't here.'

Smiling back, Patrick said, ‘But if Gill really is in this man's pocket and thinks he's got a good deal it would be risking the investigation – they would know they'd been spotted together.'

‘Then arrange for Gill to have a little encounter that would unnerve him so he'd be more likely to believe you.'

‘Bloody hell!' the commander burst out with. ‘This isn't one of your books, you know!' He was silent for a few moments and then said, ‘What sort of encounter?'

‘Oh, just being pushed around a bit by someone hooded and scary should do it. Does he have any minders?' I asked.

They did not know.

‘Shall I ask James?' I offered, picking up my mobile again.

Words seemed to have failed them just then so I hit buttons.

‘He's grumpy too,' I said, after a couple of minutes' conversation. ‘There's a bloke Gill knocks around with who James describes as being a spavined idiot who he really, really wants to get his hands on to help with several inquiries, but like nearly everyone else he needs to find in connection with this case he's gone to ground. He sometimes drives the car as Gill's banned.'

Silence.

‘I suppose  . . .' Greenway began and then stopped speaking.

‘I'd have to get Carrick on board,' Patrick observed.

‘Yes, you can't act behind his back,' I said.

‘That could be our first move then,' Greenway murmured. ‘Then what? Surely at least one of the Jessop brothers should be fit for interview soon.' He gave me a Patrick shark-style grin. ‘Perhaps we ought to have you in on that, Ingrid, to help sharpen up Derek Jessop's memory.'

‘Well, officially, I'm still standing in for Carrick's sergeant,' I said. ‘So if I haven't been replaced that will be normal casework progress.'

‘Good. Now, one bit of intelligence you might not be aware of is that Uncle and co. have adopted various Mafia practices, one of which is a kind of money laundering-cum-protection racket – it can only be described as a small offshoot – that involves a lot of small businesses. It's how they deal with some of the loot from drug dealing and robberies and at the same time drag people, by intimidation or brute force, into their sphere of operations. Outfits like independent cafés, bistros, bars, independent drug stores and upmarket fashion boutiques are the favourite targets: not places you'd first look for involvement in crime.'

‘Cooperate or your premises will be firebombed?' Patrick said.

‘Yes, apparently that's the most common initial approach. But, far more difficult to trace, they also barter stuff – force the proprietors to accept goods, originally bought from cash and carries by people who appear to be running a perfectly normal business and then head for their prey and demand in exchange stuff like food, wine, pharmaceuticals and clothing. They always choose what they want and take better goods than they're leaving behind. So the money goes round and round – some of the stuff they consume themselves – and they finally sell top-of-the-range stuff for a profit. Then it starts all over again.'

‘Using vans with bogus company names on them?' Patrick hazarded.

‘That's right. It's also used as a method of getting rid of stolen property that's not particularly valuable, in other words stuff that's perishable, like food, or not sufficiently interesting to a fence. This might sound as though it's only peanuts' – he smiled at his own pun – ‘but multiplied by over a hundred businesses that are thought to be involved, mostly in the south of England, it adds up to a lot of money. And of course it's only one small layer in their scheme of dealing with illegal funds.'

‘And I suppose with regard to slightly larger concerns which would be difficult or impossible to take over, gang members could apply for jobs such as managers or supervisors and operate a scam on the inside.'

‘I hadn't thought of that angle in connection with this case,' Greenway admitted. ‘But, yes, I'm sure you're right.' He made a note on a jotter pad, threw down the pen and continued, ‘Another thing is that in my view small sometimes means weak. The not-so-bright guys get given this job and that might be a way to get to those at the top. So that's two avenues of investigation you can put to Carrick.'

We duly brainstormed for another hour or so and failed to come up with any more useful ideas. It was reluctantly concluded that further lines of inquiry might be opened up after Derek Jessop, and possibly his brother, were questioned but until that happened nothing would be gained by sitting around talking.

Patrick phoned Carrick, who immediately vetoed my idea of approaching Charlie Gill on the grounds that the man was hard-headed, by no means stupid, had originated in London and would go into any business agreement with both eyes wide open. He was fairly dismissive about making discreet enquiries at small businesses in the area too.

Stalemate?

FIVE

W
e went home for the weekend, Patrick with the avowed intention of making Carrick change his mind, starting by cunningly inviting him and his wife Joanna to dinner on Saturday night. But the pair had already accepted another invitation so regretfully had to refuse. This meant that Patrick focused on activities with the children in between lone brainstorming while, in the afternoon, I helped Elspeth with a village jumble sale. Predictably, I always get landed with the book stall.

At some stage in the minor warfare being conducted over bargains Elspeth brought me a cup of tea and a cake.

‘That's her,' she said, jerking her head over to her left. ‘Carol Trelonic, Adam Trelonic's widow. Betty Williams has just told me that the woman brought in what must have been most of her husband's clothes this morning. I call that a bit soon, don't you? I mean, the funeral hasn't taken place yet.'

I happened to know that the delay had been caused by the body having not yet been released by the police.

‘How can I get to talk to her?' I asked.

‘I'll introduce you – that's a perfectly normal thing to do.' She gave me a very straight look and said quietly, ‘You and Patrick do work together sometimes, don't you?'

I nodded.

She patted my arm. ‘John thinks so too. But if anyone asks of course we know nothing about it.' Again I was subjected to her searching gaze. ‘Guns too?'

‘I'm a pretty good shot,' I told her. ‘We watch each other's backs.'

‘Good  . . . lovely,' she said, gazing around a little distractedly as though we were discussing the time of the next Mothers' Union meeting. ‘Let's grab her before she scuttles off.'