Death Trap (23 page)

‘Mind your own, mate,' Robertson said. ‘Delicate negotiations these are. Keep your nose out, I would. And keep shtum.'

Barnard grinned but today there was no answering smile from Robertson, who dug his hands into the pockets of his camel coat, pulled his hat down over his eyes, turned on his heel and pushed the club door open viciously before disappearing inside. Barnard had shrugged, wondering exactly what the bad temper indicated, and determined to find out one way or another, before continuing on his way. With his contacts it should not be too difficult to find out just what Devine and Robertson were cooking up between them, and for once this was not something where he anticipated gaining any personal advantage from the knowledge. This time there was someone involved he wanted to nail – no strings, no kickbacks and absolutely no doubt. If Kate O'Donnell was angry about what was threatening her in Notting Hill, it was nothing to the simmering rage Harry Barnard felt.

As far as Notting Hill was concerned he was sure that no good could come from any plans Devine was involved in, and if it threatened Kate he knew that he would have to interfere one way or another, unofficially if he could, but officially if not. He did not relish the idea of telling senior officers that he had been conducting unofficial inquiries well off his own patch, but if that was what it took to stop Devine, then that was what he would have to do. As he stepped into a pub in Greek Street to pass the time of day with the landlord, who was busy restocking his bar with the lights still out although the door was half open, he had an idea.

‘Can I use your phone?' he asked and the landlord waved him to a receiver at the end of the bar and he dialled a Hampstead number.

Shirley Bettany picked up almost immediately.

‘Are you by yourself?' Barnard asked.

‘Just the cleaner, but she's upstairs. What do you want at this time of day, Harry, for God's sake. I've got a hairdresser's appointment in Hampstead in ten minutes  . . .'

‘Just a quick question,' Barnard said quietly. ‘Do you happen to know what Ray is up to in Notting Hill? Has Fred said anything.'

There was silence at the other end for a moment then Shirley seemed to draw a sharp breath. ‘I know Fred's not very happy,' she said. ‘Thinks it's a mistake to get involved with those people, black people. He doesn't trust them. I can try to find out if you like. Why don't you come round tonight. Fred will be out at a do with Ray. Say eight o'clock.'

Barnard hesitated for no more than a moment. Tonight he had hoped to see Kate again but when he dropped her off she had given him no encouragement, saying merely that she would go home and be very careful, not going out alone or after dark.

‘OK, sweetie,' he said to Shirley. ‘See you then.'

Tess was already at home when Kate got back to 95 Argyll Gardens that evening. She had walked quickly back from the tube station, glancing over her shoulder occasionally to make sure that she was not being followed, and slamming the front door behind herself with a convincing thud before running up the gloomy staircase to the top-floor flat.

‘This place is getting really creepy,' she said to Tess, flinging her coat onto the sofa. Tess nodded.

‘Dave and Jenny have said I can go there and sleep on their sofa for a bit if this place gets too much. What do you think?'

Kate shivered slightly. ‘It might be better if we stuck together,' she said carefully. ‘Safety in numbers, and all that.' In fact, the thought of Tess moving out leaving only two in the echoing, almost empty house filled her with alarm. If Tess decided to go, she thought, she and Marie would have to do the same and the landlord and his bullying thugs would have won, which made her very angry. ‘Give it another few days,' she suggested. ‘We may find a flat for all of us.'

Tess sighed but nodded. ‘A few days,' she said. ‘Anyway, you haven't heard the news, have you? Mrs Mackintosh came round to school this afternoon to tell us that her husband has been let out on bail, and to ask us to tell Ben if by any chance he should turn up there. She's obviously thrilled they've got Nelson out, but worried to death about the boy. They've still not heard a word from him.'

‘That's good news for Nelson,' Kate said. ‘Perhaps the boy will go home now.'

‘Do you want to go round to the cafe?' Tess asked.

But Kate shook her head. ‘I told you I was staying with Harry last night,' she said. ‘But I didn't tell you why.' And she told Tess briefly about her encounter with the threatening thugs on the street.

‘Lucky Harry turned up when he did,' Tess said dryly. ‘Did you sleep with him?'

Kate smiled. ‘Maybe,' she said. ‘But never mind that. I promised him that if I came home I wouldn't go out, so I'm as keen as you to get out of here, believe me. I don't want to end up at Harry's flat for want of anywhere else to stay.'

‘He doesn't sound like a man who'll make you that sort of offer,' Tess said sourly, obviously wanting to say more when they heard a banging noise from downstairs and looked at each other in alarm.

‘It's the front door,' Kate said. ‘But the landlord and those thugs have keys so it can't be them. We'd better have a look.'

The two women went down the stairs and peered through the glass panel at the side of the window through which they could see the stocky figure of DS Eddie Lamb moving about impatiently on the top step. Kate unlocked the door and the sergeant pushed his way without ceremony into the hall.

‘A word with you, young lady,' he said brusquely. ‘Have you been out taking photographs again?'

‘Not today,' Kate said. ‘I've been in Soho all day. Why do you ask anyway? It's not illegal.'

‘No, it's not, but it is provocative. You don't seem to understand what a knife-edge we're on here. The bloody stupid magistrates have let Nelson Mackintosh out and a lot of people are very unhappy about that. The white lads are out on the streets just looking for an excuse to kick off and the last thing we want is someone like you muddying the waters. So I'll ask you politely, Miss O'Donnell, keep out of the way, keep your camera out of the way, it could be just the spark some of these kids need when they see some nigger getting away with murder. They won't stand for it and who's to say they're not right.'

Kate looked at Lamb's flushed cheeks and angry eyes and recognised the risks but she could not contain her own anger. ‘You're telling me I can't do my job,' she said. ‘I don't think you've any right to do that.'

‘We've every right to see the peace is kept. Uniform won't hesitate to take you in for your own protection if it comes to it, believe me. I'm only here because you're Harry Barnard's bird but even so you need to do as you're told. It'll only take one spark to set these lads off, one camera shot they don't like, one word out of place from some uppity black lad, and we'll be back in fifty-eight territory. We told the magistrates that but they took more notice of that bloody lawyer Manley than they did of us. “Mr Mackintosh has no record of violence,” they said. As if bloody murder isn't violence.'

‘But you haven't charged him with murder,' Kate said. ‘Have you?'

‘Not yet, but we will, believe me. And now we've got to keep a police guard on his bloody cafe to keep the mob away.'

‘You've got the wrong man,' Kate said, realising immediately that the remark was a big mistake.

‘Yes, well, you might believe that but my DCI doesn't and he's the one who counts,' Lamb said flatly. ‘Anyway, I've said what I wanted to say. For your own safety, stay indoors tonight, girl. And keep that bloody camera out of sight round here. It's like a red rag to a bull. I'll be telling Harry Barnard that too, see if he can't talk some sense into you.' And with that he spun on his heel and disappeared down the steps.

Tess slammed the door behind him with an anguished look on her face. ‘Come on,' she said. ‘Looks like a night in with the telly for us, doesn't it? Let's hope there's something good on.'

Harry Barnard parked discreetly round the corner from the Bettanys' extensive Hampstead mansion and was amused to see that the front door was opening slowly almost before he had closed the wrought-iron gate and started across the gravelled forecourt. Shirley was just out of sight as she swung the door fully open and pulled him inside. Clad only in a flimsy negligee she left no doubt what her immediate intentions were and he followed her quickly upstairs and allowed himself to be undressed and pulled into bed with hardly a word spoken.

‘Ooh, I've been looking forward to that all day,' she whispered when they had finished and he had lit a cigarette, which he passed over to her.

He had enjoyed Shirley Bettany's avid attentions for more than a year now, and she never disappointed. But he was under no illusions that she would ever put her lavish lifestyle at risk, in spite of her husband's reputed inadequacies as a lover, and as he took the cigarette back and drew the smoke deep into his lungs he was content enough with that. Shirley was generous in many extremely pleasant ways, as she had just proved, and was undeniably useful as a willing enough source of information, but there was an edge of danger here too. If Fred Bettany ever found out, and having found out complained to Ray Robertson, his boss, Barnard knew the situation could become very uncomfortable indeed. It was best not to hang around in this undeniably comfortable luxury too long.

‘So, did you glean any inkling what Ray is up to in Notting Hill?' he asked, as soon as they were comfortably ensconced in Shirley's vast kitchen sipping coffee at the breakfast table. ‘It's an odd place for him to be doing business.'

‘Fred's not very happy about it, apparently,' Shirley said. ‘He doesn't trust these black gangsters even if Ray does. He says that he's trying to get a deal to carve the place up like they do with the Maltese in Soho. He wants the protection. He reckons he's good at that. And he wants to tax the landlords down there. He reckons they're coining it, packing dozens of families into those big houses. He says there's nothing quite like that in the West End and he wants a slice. Fred says he's just being greedy and should steer clear, there's a lot of aggro down there and there could be a rerun of the riots they had a few years back. I must say it all sounds a bit dodgy to me.'

‘Even so, I know for a fact that King Devine came up west to talk to Ray this morning. I actually saw him getting out of a big Cadillac at the Delilah Club. He wouldn't have done that if he wasn't seriously interested in a deal.'

‘I suppose you want me to let you know if something definite happens?'

Barnard leaned towards her with a grin, slipped an arm under her negligee to stroke her breast and kissed her suggestively. ‘You know I do,' he said. ‘But I know you don't mind.'

Shirley drained her cup and returned the kiss with interest. ‘Come back upstairs,' she said. ‘And I'll see if you deserve it.'

Shirley Bettany threw Barnard out of the house by ten, concerned that her husband would already be on his way home. But when he started the Capri, his mind was still racing and instead of heading along the north side of the Heath towards his own flat, he headed through Hampstead village and the substantial North London suburbs until he crossed the Harrow Road and entered the starkly different world of Notting Dale. The pavements were still crowded and the cafes and pubs doing a good trade as he drove slowly west, but when he got as far as Portobello Road he noticed clusters of white youths on the street corners, especially around Nelson Mackintosh's cafe, Poor Man's Corner.

He parked a couple of blocks away and strolled slowly back towards the cafe casting an unfriendly eye over the drifting youths but not seeing anyone dressed as Kate had described her attackers. He glanced down the side street towards Mackintosh's cafe and was slightly surprised to see two uniformed officers standing outside. He strolled in that direction and was relieved to see that they were not part of yet another raid. Inside the cafe was full and appeared to be functioning normally.

‘They let him out then,' he said to the older of the two bored looking constables. ‘What are you here again for?'

‘To stop the local youth tearing the place apart,' the officer said. ‘We should have closed it down but some clever lawyer's got him out and thinks he can get him off.'

‘Doesn't look as if the locals agree,' Barnard said mildly, nodding towards the youths on the street corner.

‘They think hanging's too good for him, and I can't say I blame them. We'll regret getting rid of the rope when we've got beggars like this around. Nothing but trouble round here since they got off the boat.'

‘I'm looking for a gang of white lads who scared my girlfriend yesterday,' he said. ‘Late teens, mod gear. Have you seen anyone like that tonight?'

‘There's lots of them about, mate,' the officer said. ‘Try the Roma coffee bar up the Gate, by Macfisheries. That's where some of the mods hang out.'

Barnard nodded non-committally and moved on. But he took the constables advice, picked up the car and drove the short distance to Notting Hill Gate and parked outside the Roma, alongside a phalanx of scooters. Inside, it was crowded with teenagers in exactly the sort of gear Kate had described so he pushed through the door into the steamy atmosphere, flashed his warrant card at the young man behind the bar before turning towards the tables where the conversation quickly ebbed away.

‘Police,' he said loudly and the noise petered out into an uneasy silence. ‘Someone here, or someone you know, made threats to my girlfriend yesterday,' he went on more mildly. ‘She's a photographer. She lives round here and you may have seen her out and about taking a few snaps. I just want you all to know that I'm looking for whoever frightened her and I won't stop looking till I've found them. If anyone's got anything to tell me I'll be in my car outside for the next half hour. Don't be shy.' And he pushed his way out again through the crowded tables where no one at all met his eye. And although he waited outside the coffee bar far longer than he had promised, watching as youngsters drifted out and puttered away on their Lambrettas, no one at all came anywhere near his Capri.