The Body in the River (12 page)

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Authors: T. J. Walter

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BOOK: The Body in the River
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It

s the other way round actually; it

s what I can do for you. But not over the phone; can we meet?


I

m under pressure here, John, is it urgent?


It

s pretty important and might just release some of that pressure. Now do you want what I have or not?

Collins sighed.

Yes, of course, John, where are you?


Leman Street Incident Room.


Right, I

ll be there in an hour.

Brookes smiled as he put the phone down. He turned to DS Rose.

So, Brian Collins is one of your mentors is he, Jacqui? You

re a lucky man, he

s going places.

Her face reddened with embarrassment.

He says the same about you, sir.

Middlemiss chimed in,

Sky

s getting a bit crowded, boss, with all these fliers about.

Brookes smiled at him.

No need for you to duck, Fred, you can dogfight with the best of them.

Then, in a more sober tone, he said,

Right, back to business. I want a twenty-four hour observation set up on Fleming, starting immediately. Once I

ve seen Collins, I

ll interview Fleming; you come with me, Fred. We

ve got enough now to make him uncomfortable. Get warrants to have his phones tapped and to search his house and business. I want to see what he does and who he talks to after I

ve spoken to him, and I don

t want to give him the chance to run.

Middlemiss sat frowning, something obviously on his mind.


What is it, Fred?


Well, boss, this Silver is well-organised; he

s got his own enforcers. But Alison

s wasn

t a professional hit, more like amateur night at the proms. I

m wondering why Fleming did the job himself. Why not get Silver to put the heavy mob in?


That

s exactly what I was thinking, Fred. I wonder if Silver knows of the leak at Luxury Homes?

Middlemiss nodded.

Great minds think alike, boss. Maybe Fleming found out about the leak and decided to plug it before Silver got to know.


Then we must keep what we know under wraps and get a move on. And on a personal note, Fred, how

s the study going for the inspector

s exam?


Not well, boss. I can

t get my head around the instruction book, let alone General Orders.


Well we

ll have to do something about that. As soon as we solve this one, you

ll take a month off and get your head down. And that

s an order; otherwise we won

t be able to move for all these damned fliers. It

ll be like swimming in treacle.

Looking at Rose, he added,

Present company excepted of course.

Middlemiss grinned.

Yes, boss.

Rose found something interesting outside the window to look at.

*

Chapter 9 – The Fleming interview

 


Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.

Oscar Wilde

 

Detective Chief Superintendent Brian Collins arrived at Leman Street exactly an hour after their telephone conversation. He and Brookes were as different as chalk and cheese. Collins was no better than a competent detective; his strength lay in managing others that were.

To Brookes, the successful prosecution of a wrongdoer was the goal, to Collins it was the kudos that came with it. Like all the most successful detectives, Brookes sailed close to the wind at times when there was evidence to collect, though he drew the line at inventing or planting it. Nor was he averse to making things happen when he came up against a brick wall. Collins, on the other hand, shied away from any action that might later be brought into question.

The two were as unalike in appearance as they were in character. Brookes stood two inches over six feet tall, was heavily built, and had a full head of hair. Collins stood barely five feet eight tall and, despite being only in his early forties, the only hair on his head was a fringe around the edge of his scalp. Brookes

suits were off the peg and his ties Marks & Spencer bought. Collins favoured tailored pin stripe suits complete with waistcoat and habitually wore his old school tie.

Even their voices and speech patterns were very different: Brookes spoke in the soft tones of the gentle giant and without affectation, Collins

speech gave evidence of his public school upbringing; but there was something else about his speech that set him apart. His voice had a resonance more fitting to the church pulpit; when he spoke it was as if he were intoning a prayer. Although no one ever said it to his face, he was known among the junior ranks as

The Bishop

; he both looked and sounded the part.

In every sense, they made very strange bedfellows, and trod warily around each other. None of this showed, however, in the warm greeting each gave the other.

Then Collins got immediately down to business.

What

s this that can

t wait, John; have you arrested the Mitchel gang for me?

He referred to a notorious gang of drug dealers who were building an empire after the demise of the Russian and Jamaican gangs at Brookes

hands.


Hello, Brian, straight to the point as usual. No, but I might have something that will help you screw someone else down.

He spent ten minutes outlining the Alison MacPherson case; Collins listened intently. When he

d finished, Collins said,


You have been busy, John. How firm are you on this?


My gut tells me it

s right but we

ve a long way to go yet.

Collins sat thinking for a long moment, working out the implications. Finally he spoke, choosing his words carefully.


That is good news. You are of course aware that there are implications about your enquiry that effect the work I am doing?


That

s why I called you, Brian.

Collins allowed his face to crease into a smile.

Yes, and thank you for doing so promptly. It would help if I knew what you were going to do before you did it, John.


No problem, I

ll keep you informed when I can.


Thank you. What

s your next step?


Once you leave, I

m going to interview Fleming. I

ve got enough hard facts to shake his tree; we

ll see what falls out.


I think your evaluation of Silver

s lack of involvement in the murder is correct. One of my team has an informant in his camp. The man is not exactly close to the inner circle but I

m sure he would have heard if the gang

s enforcers had a hand in the McPherson woman

s death. That means your killer was probably acting alone.


OK, how do we keep in touch?


I could give you one of my sergeants as a liaison officer. He is of course fully aware of what we are doing at The Yard and he knows the whole organised crime scene well. He can advise you and keep me informed of your progress.


That should work. I

ll let you know how the Fleming interview goes. We

ve got him under close observation; I

ll put the frighteners on him and see where he runs.

*

Brookes left strict instructions with Short that he should not let Jacqui Rose out of his sight, then set out with Middlemiss to the offices of Luxury Homes Abroad. As they drove, he brought Middlemiss up to date with the information he

d received from Collins.

Middlemiss replied,

Magic, boss.

He glanced sideways at Brookes and added,

As long as this isn

t a takeover bid by The Bishop.

Brookes let the words hang for a moment. Then he said, sharply,

You leave the politics to me, Fred. Just concentrate on the job on hand.


Yes, boss.

*

The offices of Luxury Homes Abroad occupied the ground floor of a tall office block in the newly gentrified part of Wapping. When the ships that brought the wealth of the empire to London stopped making the long haul up the Thames, the vast system of docks in the capital

s East End quickly became defunct. Premium land within a stone

s throw of the City of London became vacant. What used to be known as

The Docks

became

Docklands

and the price of land shot up five hundred percent.

Even with the decline of empire, the wealth of the third world continued to pour into England

s capital city. But now the ships discharged their containers in the Thames Estuary and the goods arrived in London by road and rail. The space-hungry institutions and commercial enterprises that occupied the square mile of the City gobbled up the newly available space.

All of this was obvious to the naked eye; what was less obvious was the change it made to a whole way of life for the people who had lived and worked in the area for centuries. The dockers, warehousemen, and ancillary workers found themselves without employment. Nor could they simply move up the river to where the ships now docked; technology had taken over most of the jobs. Brookes

father had been a docker and had had to find another trade in his fifties. He ended his working life on the production line of a car manufacturer in Essex.

Brookes looked, with a jaundiced eye, at the monolith in front of him. Twenty stories of blue tinted glass, the steel and concrete that must form the core of the building all cleverly disguised by mirrored glass. The effect was almost surreal. It looked as if the whole edifice would collapse in the first gust of wind.

As they pushed open the entrance door, Brookes saw three attractive young women and a man in his fifties seated at desks spread around the generous office space. The furniture was in tune with the modern state of the building. The desks had glass tops that rested on bright chrome tubular frames. The chairs had matching chrome frames with moulded plastic seats. A few discretely placed photographs of villas and homes in exotic locations adorned the mirrored interior walls.

Going straight to the manager

s desk, Brookes introduced himself and his DS, showing their warrant card.

He added,

We need to talk to Mr Fleming, please tell him we are here.

The manager licked his lips and asked, nervously,

Do you have an appointment, Superintendent?


I

m not looking to buy a holiday; I

m investigating the murder of one of your employees, Mr Brown. Just tell Mr Fleming we

re here.

His tone left no room for discussion.

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