'Take a seat.’ Brady pointed to the pine chairs nestled under a farmhouse table facing a set of French doors.
'Thank you, Mr Brady,' Blake said, glancing at the wall to his right, covered in small mirrors, old black and white photographs, in gilded frames, of familiar moorland beauty spots, and old Potteries plates. There was also a book shelf holding up an assortment of paperbacks and hardbacks.
'Please, call me Vince.' Brady said, noticing Blake distracted by his collectibles. 'That’s a bit of a hobby of mine; rummaging through antique shops for local pictures and other curios.'
Emerson sat poised holding her pen, with her notebook open on the table.
'OK, Vince, our archives show you dealt with Lenny Wilder on a few occasions. Obviously, if the human remains do turn out to be him, you might be able to provide us with some background regarding the original missing person case,' Blake said.
'I'll try my best, but it all seems like a lifetime ago now.'
'I can appreciate that, but it would be hugely helpful if you could remember. Maybe these will help jog your memory?' Blake said, passing over the original case notes written up by one of Brady's detectives at the time, DS Michael Naylor.
Brady leaned across the table and fished his glasses out of a grey case. He skimmed the first page, 'Ah, now it's coming back a bit. Naylor interviewed Lenny's brother, Johnny, a couple of days after he filed the Misper. Cancer took the poor bugger about ten years ago now. God we had some laughs, me and Naylor. He was a cracking DS. We knew they were a couple of wrong ’uns, running the show from that dodgy arcade, something Nugget, I seem to remember.'
'The Golden Nugget,' Blake filled in the blanks.
'That's it. Anyway, we set up surveillance on them a few times, but making anything stick was the problem. Every time a crime was committed and their names were linked to it, they had rock solid alibis, with witnesses. Hardly surprising, really. After a few arrests in their early years, they wised up and distanced themselves from the business end of things. I was surprised when Lenny went missing.'
'Any reason why?' Blake asked him.
'Well, aside from him being a hard nut, he appeared to be a successful business man with money to burn. It seemed out of context with his lifestyle. Maybe he crossed some other Mr Big?'
Emerson continued to furiously take notes, as Blake eased him open.
'That's certainly one possibility. I would imagine the Wilder brothers made plenty of enemies along the way. You're not the first person to say they were dodgy criminals. We've spoken to another source who also knew of their notoriety back in the day. Seems they were living the high life; expensive cars, women, and rumours they were involved in prostitution,' Blake said, hoping to jog Brady's memory further.
'I see. Anyone in particular?'
'Nobody else with police connections. Just someone who worked on the East-West precinct.'
'If you give me a name or two, I may be able to help, especially if they were faces,' Brady said.
Blake hesitated, 'Unfortunately, I can't. This source is helping us with our enquiries at this stage and, given he's not a face with a record, it would be a breach of the rules.'
'Suit yourself. Just trying to help.'
'No, we appreciate your co-operation. I can tell you we'll be speaking to a George Rills who, we've been informed, worked at the Wilders’ arcade as change attendant. May be your paths crossed at some point in the past?'
'Bloody hell, is old Georgie the Cripple still alive? I am surprised,' he said, cruelly.
Emerson shot Blake a telling look.
Ignoring the slight, Blake said, 'Frail sort, with some health issues, by all accounts. Any ideas what happened to him, Vince?'
'I heard he had some kind of accident and broke his back. I also remember he was accused of till dipping. I would imagine a ruthless bastard like Lenny wouldn't have paid Georgie enough, so he probably made his wages up that way. Untraceable cash.'
'I see. You seem well informed?' Blake said.
'Well, Inspector, I had a few snouts on the payroll back in the day. We had to. There was no internet, CCTV or phones to snoop at; it was all nose to the ground stuff, back then. Different era completely.'
'Must have been tough at times?' Blake said, appearing to empathise.
'Oh, I don't know, we put our fair share of bad lads away. Suppose it’s a case of if you never had it you never missed it.'
'Very true. Did any of these informants know anything about Lenny's disappearance?'
'Not that I know of. They were mainly drunks and druggies who'd shop their old mum for a few quid: not the most reliable sources. But those scrotes occasionally came good, which led to arrests; just nothing on the Wilder brothers. I think most were too scared of them, after hearing the rumours they beat people up. It sent out a strong message to potential grasses.'
'That would certainly do the trick. Gangsters rule by fear; without that they're nothing. We see it all the time, especially when drugs are involved,' Blake said, glancing at his watch. ‘You've been very helpful, Vince, but really we must head back now. We'll be going through more files from 1978, so I'll let you know if we need to speak to you again.'
'No problem, happy to help. Even though I'm retired, we're both on the same side, you know.' Brady said.
CHAPTER 17
An hour later, DS Murphy got business addresses for Johnny Wilder from the council. He'd gone legit in his old age and now owned an off-licence and one of those garish e-cigarette shops that were popping up everywhere. Although, judging by the employee and Companies House records, Wilder appeared to be a silent CEO at the ripe old age of seventy. Murphy stood and made his way over to Blake's office.
'Tom, I've got a couple of business addresses for Johnny Wilder. One thing's for sure: he's got a ton of form. Everything from fraud to assault and loan-sharking; although, several charges were dropped because of witness intimidation. He's also done a stretch in Strangeways, but kept his nose clean since he came out in 1993.'
'Brilliant! Let's head over to those addresses now. See if we can catch him on the premises?'
The two detectives were leaving the room when DS Brogan stopped them.
'Boss, I've managed to get an address for George Rills from social security. Apparently, he's registered disabled, been on benefits for years.'
'Good work, Rodge. Get over to his house and have a chat with him, but be subtle. He's probably scared of Johnny Wilder and may not give us anything if he still feels threatened by him.'
****
It took Blake and DS Murphy about twenty minutes to persuade Johnny Wilder to leave his e-cigarette shop and come to the station for an interview. The bloke was an arrogant bastard who, judging by his resistance, clearly hated the police. However, after they informed him the human remains could be his missing brother, he capitulated.
Wilder sat in Interview Room Three with a mug of coffee, and glanced at his solicitor.
Blake commenced the interview, 'Mr Wilder, we appreciate it’s inconvenient leaving your shop in a hurry but, as we said, there's a possibility the human remains could be your brother, Lenny. For the tape, can you tell us exactly when he went missing?'
Wilder looked detached, as if they were talking about a stranger, 'That was a very long time ago. What makes you think it's Lenny?'
'We've got hold of architectural plans from the 1970s, and we’ve spoken to a source who remembers The Golden Nugget arcade being on the same plot where the deceased was found. The leather jacket the skeleton was wearing was from the seventies, and our source remembers Lenny going missing in September 1978; the 29th, according to our missing person records. It's a lead we're taking very seriously, Mr Wilder. I can appreciate this investigation will stir up painful memories, but it would be hugely helpful if you could provide us with a DNA sample. We only have your fingerprints on the database. Obviously, DNA sampling wasn't available the last time you were arrested in the early eighties.’
'What friggin source from back in
the day?'
'I'm afraid, at this point in the investigation, we can’t reveal that.'
****
George Rills lived in a ramshackle terraced house in Stoke. Apart from a boarded-up hairdressers and a Bargain Booze, only ten other properties occupied the street.
DS Brogan knocked on the traffic-stained uPVC door. It was opened a few seconds later by a man in his late sixties who looked like he'd had a rough life. The tiny red veins around his nose showed signs he was, or had been, a heavy drinker and smoker.
'Who are you? What do you want?' Rills said, bluntly.
'Mr Rills, I'm DS Brogan from Hanley police. I'd like to ask you a few questions about a historical case. Can I come in?'
'What historical case? How do I know you're a real copper? That badge could be fake. You might rob me if I let you in.'
Brogan hadn't expected this level of resistance to a routine chat. 'You're right to be cautious about letting strangers into your house, Mr Rills. I'm a genuine police officer but, to put your mind at rest, you can call the station and speak to them. My badge number’s here,' he said, pointing to his warrant card.
****
Johnny Wilder reluctantly opened his mouth and let PC Emerson scrape a DNA swab around the inside of his cheeks.
'I want that destroyed if these remains aren't my Lenny?' he said, nodding to his lawyer.
'Of course, that's your right within the law, Mr Wilder. Moving on, can we establish if there was anyone with a grudge who wanted your brother out of the way back in 1978? Were there any clear threats or vendettas? Did he owe anyone money or something of that nature?'
Wilder smirked, 'Lenny owe anyone money! More like people owed us money. There was always some twat trying it on.'
'I take it you mean people tried to avoid paying what they'd borrowed? We heard rumours you were some kind of loan-sharks back then, is that correct?’
'Nah, not really. People came to us if they needed a new washing machine or TV on tick. Our rates were fair. Unlike other lenders, we didn't ask for weekly interest at stupid percentages,' Wilder said, as if they'd operated as legitimate money brokers.
'So what was the deal then, Johnny?’ DS Murphy said, indulging him.
'As long as they paid the money in full, with 25% on top, four weeks later, we were happy.'
Blake's brow rose, 'Seriously? Sounds like a rip-off to me. Anyway, we're not here to debate interest rates on illegal loans back in the seventies. We need to talk about your brother's murder. So, going back to my original question: did anyone in particular have it in for him?'
'Not really. Obviously, people were jealous of a successful businessman with nice motors and a beautiful girl on his arm. Lenny had it all. It was a huge shock when he disappeared. We didn't owe anyone.'
'Tell us about your old club, The Heavy Steam Machine? By all accounts it was a big deal back then,' Blake suggested.
'I don't know where you've got your info from, but someone's got a big mouth.' Wilder was rattled.
'Don't take us for fools, Mr Wilder. We do due diligence on everyone we question. You and Lenny have got serious form. We've heard the pair of you were involved in prostitution: running that from the club?' Blake said, fishing to try to substantiate Clifford Bates’ claims. The Wilders’ records contained charges for racketeering, serious assault and robbery; nothing down for vice.
Wilder's face turned fury-red, 'You've had your fucking DNA sample. I really don't like what you're insinuating, copper. I came here voluntarily, so I'll be off now, because you've been speaking with someone who's clearly got it in for me. Let's not forget, those old bones might be my brother. You've got a nerve bringing me in here to try and rubbish my reputation.'
Wilder glanced at his solicitor, who nodded in agreement.
CHAPTER 18
After Johnny Wilder was released from the station, DS Brogan returned from speaking with George Rills.
'How did it go, Rodge?' Blake said, keen to push on.
'Well, I had an interesting chat with Mr Rills. Seems there's a lot of history between him and the Wilder brothers. The man's been living under a cloud of fear for most of his life. He's petrified of them. The discovery of what may turn out to be Lenny Wilder's remains has seriously unnerved him.'
'In what way?'
'Like Clifford Bates said, he worked for the brothers in The Golden Nugget arcade for about five years, in the change booth. When I asked about his disability he became all defensive, like he was hiding something,' Brogan said.
'Hiding something?'
'Yeah, said he fell down concrete steps leading to the basement at the arcade and broke several vertebrae, putting him in hospital for three months for reconstructive surgery. After being discharged, he had to learn to walk again. The bloke’s a wreck, tottering along his hallway hunched over like Quasimodo,' Brogan admitted.
'Sounds like he's had a tough life?'
'Seems that way.'
'Anything else?'
'He's far too scared to incriminate the Wilders in anything illegal, but when I mentioned we'd be speaking to Johnny Wilder today, he almost shat himself.'
'Seriously?'
'Yeah, Rills says he's not seen Johnny Wilder for over twenty years.' He glanced at his pocketbook: ‘“I never want to see that bastard again!” I asked him why, and he said the bloke’s an animal with no respect for women, but wouldn’t elaborate further.'
'I think we'll have to bring George Rills in. Maybe more official surroundings will open him up? OK, thanks, Rodge.'
CHAPTER 19
Blake didn't want Margot Matheson to feel intimidated by probing questions about her past, especially considering she had been Lenny Wilder's girlfriend before he disappeared.
PC Emerson indicated and pulled the Volvo to the curb outside Matheson’s house on the Meir Estate, a mile from the town of Longton.
'Think she'll be in, Boss? When I called earlier, she seemed very apprehensive about speaking to us.'
'We'll soon find out,' Blake said, glancing through the passenger window at a neatly kept garden full of coloured pansies either side of the corporation slabbed pathway.
After a short wait, they were permitted into the ground floor flat of the council maisonette by a woman in her early sixties, who'd have been very attractive in her heyday. Her hair was cut in a shoulder-length angled bob and her high cheekbones and sparkling blue eyes gave her the appearance of those mature fashion models who paraded clothes on daytime TV.
'Have to say, I was shocked when you called me earlier about this historical murder case. What does it have to do with me?’ Margot Matheson said.
Blake let PC Emerson take the lead.
'I can appreciate getting a call out of the blue from the police about a murder that happened forty-two years ago is very unsettling, but we believe the victim is Lenny Wilder.’
Blake watched Matheson's face redden.
Emerson got straight to the point, ‘We think you can help us with our enquiries. Our source has informed us you went out with Lenny in 1978. Is this true, Mrs Matheson?'
'That was such a long time ago, I barely remember anything about it,' Margot lied.
'It would be very helpful if you could try, please. This is a murder investigation,' Emerson insisted.
Matheson paused, in deep thought for a moment. 'It's all pretty hazy, but I can remember he wooed me, at first, with flowers and gifts but, because of his reputation, I turned him down. My parents would have gone crazy if I'd gone out with him.'
Blake sensed she was hiding something, 'Mrs Matheson, we know all about Lenny's reputation. He'd been arrested several times in the late seventies. Some serious charges were brought against him, but everything seemed to go away after witnesses changed their original statements. Which leads us to believe the Wilder brothers intimidated people with threats of violence.' He hoped to prick her conscience.
'Look, Inspector, I was a foolish twenty-one-year-old at the time, and if I'm honest I was flattered by his attention.
He made it hard for me to resist, so I decided to give him a go. At first he was charming, a real gentleman, but once I started to have feelings for him that changed.'
'In what way?' Emerson asked.
'He began to mess me around. Not turn up for dates we'd arranged, and I saw him with another woman a few times. I'm convinced he was seeing her behind my back.'
'Did you know this woman?'
'I knew of her. A druggie who hung around the club the brothers owned.'
'That would be The Heavy Steam Machine?' Blake interjected.
Margot nodded.
'I know it’s a long time ago, but can you remember her name?' Blake asked her.
'It’s foreign, I think. Valletta - something. Surname sounded a bit like one of those rich men's cars.'
Blake was puzzled, 'Rich men’s cars?'
'Sorry, that's the best way I can describe it really.'
He thought for a few seconds, 'Ferrari, Aston Martin, Lamborghini or something like that?'
'Lombardi!' she said, animated. 'Valletta Lombardi.'
'OK, that's very helpful,' Blake said, writing the name down. He'd get DC Longsdon on it when they got back.
Emerson observed the woman’s inability to sit still. 'There's more to it than that, isn't there, Mrs Matheson?'
The woman's gaze shot nervously around the room, 'I don't follow?'
Emerson continued, 'In September 1978, just before Lenny disappeared, you made a complaint to the police that he sexually assaulted you. Then you dropped the allegation less than a week later. I know it’s painful dragging up the past, and I'm really sorry to ask these uncomfortable questions, but it's unavoidable.'
The colour drained from Margot Matheson's face. She swallowed hard.
Emerson said, 'Take your time, it's OK. We're not here to judge you in anyway.'
Blake interjected, 'I know it’s a hell of a long time ago, but can you remember where you were the night Lenny disappeared, Mrs Matheson?'
The Missing And The Dead: A tense crime thriller with a shocking twist Page 4
