Cold Killers (18 page)

‘No, Eb, I don’t. Can we leave this now? She’s a friend, nothing more, and I’m being a friend back to her. Enough said. I’ve had a call from my informant –
I’m going to be gone a few hours. See if you can get any more information about Manson. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I get back. And, Eb?’

‘Yes?’

‘I know you mean well. But back off.’

Della heard the sound of Marco as he came flat-footed through the French windows to the back of the house and the barbecue area.

‘What are you doing?’ She’d lit the fire pit. She was sitting on the patio overlooking the base of the mountains and the almond grove that descended for an acre before the
perimeter wall and the start of the ascent.

‘None of your business.’ She didn’t turn to answer him and, after a few minutes, she heard him thudding heavy, barefooted across the marble as he went back inside the
villa.

‘I’m going to sleep,’ he called.

Della felt revulsion at his presence in her home, the way he came and went as he pleased. She knew she had to get him out somehow. But she had to come up with something good. The last three days
she’d spent going meticulously through her life. She was living on adrenalin. The incident in the almond grove had set something in her mind that Della could not shift. It was her or them. It
was live or die. She was shocked that Tony thought he had the right to destroy her, to physically and mentally beat her into a pulp and to leave her buried like

Francisco, in a shallow grave. The one thing she knew was that he was so wrong. Eddie hadn’t chosen her at random. He’d seen the strength in her that she knew she once had.
She’d gone a little soft around the edges but, even when she’d fought Tony off in the bathroom, she’d been surprised how training had kicked in. She was a policewoman and she was
Della Vincetti long before she was ever a Butcher.

She lifted the last of the papers she’d hidden from his view beneath her chair, and began feeding them into the fire. The breeze caught them and sent burning embers up into the deep
sapphire-blue sky. Eddie’s secrets went up in smoke. After she’d finished, she switched on the patio lights and told the maid to light the wood burner in the house and to prepare
dinner. She told her not to awaken Marco.

Della went inside to shower. She poured herself more chilled white into a crystal glass, heavy in her manicured hands, and she took it with her into her room, locking the door after she closed
it. She sat on her bed and thought hard. Things had to happen now. She looked at her phone. She wanted to call Carter again. She wanted to hear his reassuring voice. She knew he couldn’t help
while she stayed in Spain. She’d already decided to get out for now. She’d have to make it on her own. She’d have to play the shrewdest card she’d every played.

She waited till she could hear Marco moving around the kitchen: the clash of the fridge door as he slammed it shut, the rattle of bottles.

She put on her bathrobe and went out into the kitchen. Marco was watching the television mounted on the wall. He was sitting on a bar stool and swivelling it around as he listened to the
commentator talking in Spanish on the music station. A rapper was being interviewed.

He stopped swivelling to watch Della as she passed and went to the fridge. She moved around in a sensuous cloud of perfume. Her gold jewellery glistened on her brown skin. Her blond hair curled
down her back.

Marco followed her with his eyes. He picked up a hand towel and was wiping the sweat from his body as he watched her. She turned with a bottle of wine in her hand.

‘Drink?’ she asked.

‘Sure.’ He looked surprised. He was used to her ignoring him.

He grinned as he pushed the bottle of beer to one side and turned off the TV sound.

She smiled. ‘Cheers!’ She sat on the stool next to him.

‘You getting ready to go somewhere?’ he asked.

‘I was thinking of inviting myself to dinner at Villa Cassandra. But there’s plenty of time. Tony will be needing some down time. I’ve seen him get this wound-up before. It
usually ends in him taking a bucketload of tranquillisers and sleeping for a week.’

‘Ha-ha. You hate Tony, right?’

‘I do now. He had my husband killed.’

Marco shrugged. ‘Maybe, or maybe it was not his fault.’

‘And maybe it was yours.’

‘Mine? No. Why?’

‘Because you and Tony are hatching some plan. Eddie must have found himself in the middle of something he knew nothing about.’

‘How come you think you know so much about it?’

‘Why shouldn’t I? You think I don’t keep my eyes and ears open? You think I’m as stupid as Tony likes to think I am? Tony doesn’t know everything; he doesn’t
have all the answers.’ She smiled sweetly at Marco as she allowed her robe to open up and show her bare tanned legs.

Marco looked at her curiously. He reached over to top up her glass as she continued: ‘I’ve spent the last few days going through Eddie’s affairs. I’ve seen papers here in
this villa that no one but Eddie and his lawyer has ever seen. I know what his plans were and they did not include dying for Tony or taking part in any cheap drugs deal.’

‘Cheap? None of it comes cheap, princess.’

‘Except my husband’s life, it seems. It’s taken a little while to sink in but now I understand a few things very clearly. Tony thinks I am going to go without a fight. He is
wrong. If you think I don’t have friends in high places, you are wrong. I can get my hands on a lot of money. I have a lot of options in life.’

‘How much is a lot?’

‘Upwards from a hundred million. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? It’s always about money with Tony.’

‘Jesus!’ He grinned.

She laughed. ‘Never underestimate me. I could be a good friend to you.’

He grinned stupidly. ‘I am sure you could. But I don’t know why you would want to be.’

‘I have a deal I want to put to Tony.’

‘So what is this, real or no?’

‘Oh, it’s definitely real. Phone Tony and tell him I have a proposition to put to him. Tell him to expect me for dinner.’

He laughed. ‘
Si, señora
.’

Back in her room, Della tried Carter’s number again. She left a message.

‘I need to see you, Dan. I’ve decided what I’m going to do and I’m coming to the UK. I’ll ring you when I get there. I’m so grateful to you, Dan. I’m
sorry to put all this on you. I know it’s a difficult situation for you but I feel like I have the answer to it. Can’t wait to see you.’

Carter looked around him as he walked into St Matthew’s Church in Bethnal Green.

‘What have you got for me, Melvin? Why are we meeting here?’

They were alone but Melvin kept looking around as if he expected to be jumped.

‘You okay, Melvin?’ Carter asked. Melvin didn’t look good. He sometimes had bouts of depression.

He shook his head. He was walking backwards up towards the front of the church, between the chairs that had replaced pews when the church became more of a community centre. Now it provided a
meeting place and playgroup facility in the week as well as multifaith religious services.

‘Did you find out any more for me?’ asked Carter.

Melvin nodded. ‘But I need more money. I can’t work.’ He looked up at Carter, panic in his eyes. ‘Scamp is gone.’ He started crying.

‘Whoa, slow down. What’s the problem, Melvin? I thought business was good? What do you mean Scamp has gone? Where?’

‘I let him out the front for a pee and he vanished.’

‘Did you ring up Battersea Dogs Home?’

‘Yes. It’s not good. He’s gone. They’ve killed him. Scamp never hurt anyone. Did he?’

‘He’ll come back. I’ll make enquiries for you; I’ll put up a reward for his return. Two hundred quid, how’s that? Come on, Melvin, come here.’ Carter held
open his arms and Melvin sobbed into Carter’s coat. ‘Come on, let’s sit down here for a while and talk.’

‘I can’t work. I’m too worried.’ He blew his nose in the hanky Carter handed him.

‘What about the staff in the Blind Beggar? Do they know anything?’

‘I haven’t asked them. I’ve been too scared, in case he comes back and finds me gone. I don’t dare leave my house; this is the first time I’ve come out. I’ve
left the door open just in case he comes when I’m not there.’

‘You shouldn’t do that. You better get off home. Have you been to the doc’s, Melvin? You’re getting ill again.’ He kept shaking his head. ‘Look, here we
are.’ Carter took out his wallet and pulled out all the notes he had.

‘There’s a couple of hundred quid there. You go home and get a photo of Scamp and text it to me and I’ll alert the patrol cars to look out for him, okay? I’ll get in
touch with the dog wardens.’

‘Thank you, Inspector. I did have something to tell you. It may not be much but I’ve seen that man again. You asked me about a man in one of the photos. I saw him in a café.
He was with someone. I took this picture for you. I pretended to be looking at the menu. I hope that’s clear. I’ll send it to you now.’

Carter looked at the photo.

‘When was this taken, Melvin?’

‘This was taken two days ago. It’s that bloke I showed you before.’

‘Who, this guy?’ Carter tapped on the photo and enlarged it. ‘You never showed me him before.’

‘Didn’t I? I’ve seen him around here a few times, talking to the big ugly bloke. Do you know him?’

‘Yes, his name is Manson. Does that mean anything to you?’

Melvin shook his head. ‘I’ve just been keeping a lookout for the big ugly one with the bun.’

‘Marco.’

‘That’s him. Haven’t seen him for a week or two.’

‘Who is Manson with?’

‘I couldn’t risk getting a better shot of him. I thought you might know him. He’s a really dodgy bloke. He’s been in the area about a month. I’ve seen him around
but he isn’t friendly. He speaks to Lev now and again, but no one seems to want to talk long with him. I tried a conversation with him once, in the pub. He speaks good English, with a South
American accent. You can ask Lev about him. I don’t know what’s going on around here but everyone’s scared. Even Lev.’

‘You need to rest up, Melvin. You’re getting ill. You go and see the doc, okay? I’ll start asking about Scamp for you.’

He nodded, but his eyes were still on the door as if he expected an ambush.

Carter watched Melvin leave and then he sent the photo of Manson across to Robbo with the message, ‘Any ideas?’

Carter walked down to the Old Jewish Bakery. Lev was serving customers. The windows were steaming up. Carter ordered a coffee and he sat at the window seat. Lev was talking to his customers, who
seemed like regulars picking up their usual preordered bagels. Lev was washing out the containers, getting ready to close for the day. Carter waited until the last customer had gone. Carter had
been reading the information on the walls about Lev’s grandfather, who started the bakery. It was a tale of endurance and resilience, a heartwarming tale.

‘That’s a great history you have there, Lev.’

‘It is.’ He was cleaning down the surfaces.

‘You’ve seen some changes around here, but fundamentally things stay the same. I suppose you’re looking forward to the gentrification happening?’

He smiled, nodded.

Carter showed Lev the photo on his phone of Manson and the mystery man.

‘Do you know who this is, Lev?’

‘I don’t recognise them, sorry.’

‘Sure?’

‘Positive, Inspector.’

‘Melvin seems to think he saw you with one of these guys, South American, been around about a month.’

Lev stopped what he was doing to look at the photo again and then shook his head.

‘Well, it’s a bad photo. But have you heard of the name Manson?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘Well, it’s no problem. Just not sure what Melvin is talking about. He seems like he’s getting ill again.’

‘Yes, I thought that when he came in here earlier. He’s lost his dog.’

‘What about that? He thinks someone took it.’

Lev shook his head in disbelief. ‘He just lets it out to shit in the front garden, it gets out the gate, I see it sometimes going through the bins here.’

‘Well, you keep an eye out for me.’ He handed Lev a card. ‘And you ring me if you think of a name for that man.’

‘Of course.’

‘We’re looking through the footage from the funeral again to see if we can see your man in there,’ said Robbo. ‘Meanwhile, Pam has dug up more on
Manson.’

Pam handed Carter and Willis a file each, before the start of the sub meeting in Robbo’s office.

‘I’ve been looking into his lifestyle for you,’ she said as Robbo, Carter and Willis opened up their files and began reading.

‘I’m waiting for confirmation on a couple of things, but this is what I have on him so far,’ she said as she went back behind her desk. ‘Plus, I’ve just had it
confirmed from the dealership that Manson paid cash for his brand-new Range Rover. That was three months ago in October.’

Robbo handed out coffee as Willis and Carter read through the file. He’d already read it as Pam compiled it.

Afterwards Carter closed his and put it on the desk.

‘Good work, Pam. We need to put some surveillance on Manson. We’ll request his phone records and have his phone bugged.’

‘I don’t think he’s using his contract phone exclusively. He was photographed on another device outside Paradise Villas,’ said Pam, ‘when we studied the CCTV after
Eddie died.’

‘Let’s re-examine that footage and make sure we didn’t miss anything,’ said Carter.

‘I’ll take another look,’ answered Robbo.

‘One thing has just come in,’ said Pam. ‘We’ve been monitoring the use on the company credit card and Jo Manson has just purchased tickets for the family to fly off to
Thailand for a month for Christmas.’

‘That’s an afterthought then. Snap decision. He must be getting nervous,’ said Robbo. ‘Who books so late for a family holiday at Christmas? They would have to pay dear
for tickets now.’

‘First class,’ said Pam. ‘It cost them almost thirteen thousand.’

‘When are they due to fly?’ asked Carter.

‘They’re due to go tomorrow evening,’ answered Pam.