‘I pull rank. Unfortunately you can’t. But your day’s fast coming, Sarah. How are you getting on?’
‘I’ve had a full morning of research, which may prove useful — we’ll see. And I’ve got details in from forensics that may or may not be relevant.’
‘Go on.’
‘I mentioned that receipt in the van. It was from a café near Amhurst Park. It’s dated two days before Lily was taken. Could be coincidence but I’m following it up. I’m about to ring my mate I told you about over at Vice to see what I can find out about the Amhurst Park prostitutes. I texted the info to Cam too in case he could use it in his interview.’
‘Well, good luck.’
‘Thanks, sir. You too.’
She didn’t dawdle; as soon as the ring tone returned, she punched in a mobile number and waited.
‘Andy Gates.’
‘Hi, Andy. It’s Sarah.’
‘Sarah?’
‘Jones, you fool!’
‘Oh, hello. Sorry, blimey, thought you were this stalker I went out on a blind date with not so long ago. She’s a Sarah too and I’m scared I’ll have to change addresses.’
Sarah grinned. ‘Andy, got anything on pimps and prostitutes up in the Amhurst area?’
‘Plenty, why?’
‘Well, it’s a hunch.’
‘Are you working an op?
‘Panther.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘We haven’t got much. I’m trying a very long shot at the moment that the girls up at Amhurst might have heard something.’
‘That is reaching. I mean I get why — being so close to Stamford Hill and all that — but Sarah, that’s the main Jewish community of London. Why on earth would —’
‘I know, I know. But here it is. Call me barmy but I was once taken to a really brilliant Jewish café, I suppose you’d call it, near Stamford Hill station — actually I think it was on Amhurst Parade.’
‘Milo’s,’ he said.
‘Is that it? Yes! Sounds right.’
‘It’s the only kosher café in that area. Open 24 hours and I’ll admit the bagels are tops.’
‘Top food all round.’
‘I’ll trust you. So?’
‘So, they found a receipt in a stolen vehicle that contained the body of one of the victims,’ she began and then stopped suddenly.
‘Sarah?’
‘What? Sorry, I … sorry.’
‘What’s going on?’ Andy asked. She could imagine him frowning at the other end. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah, sorry, Andy. Really. Something just fell into place.’
‘Good. Your brain perhaps.’
‘Up yours.’
He laughed. ‘So you don’t want to know about the big swoop going down on the pros at Amhurst tonight?’
‘You bastard. Really?’
‘Really,’ he confirmed. ‘Golf Delta’s been helping the local action group set up a safe neighbourhood team; you know, to keep an eye on crime in the area but also the rapidly growing prostitution. There’s a lot of pimps operating there and they’re running up to a dozen girls each. It’s not good.’
‘They’re doing a raid?’
‘Bit of a clean-up, yeah. Happening tonight.’
‘Can I get in on that?’
‘Never picked you for a voyeur, Sarah.’
‘Oh, go jump would you. Yes or no?’
‘Sure. I’ll pick you up if you want. Be ready around five-thirty. It’s dark enough then.’
‘Perfect.’
‘And Sarah?’
‘Yes?’
‘Wear that beige anorak. You know how sexy I find you in it.’
She shared his laughter as they rang off; she didn’t mind Andy ribbing her. He was a great bloke and they had been friends through Hendon together. He was someone she could trust and vice versa. She hoped one day soon they’d work a case together. He, too, was ambitious and they’d always competed; she wondered which of them would make DC first.
Sarah replaced the receiver and returned to the flash of inspiration that had struck her so blindingly moments earlier. She was glad she had not had to explain it to Andy because it still felt too loose — but the connection was definitely there.
Hawksworth was now on the trail of a Jewish man who was the closest thing they had to a suspect. He’d been seen at the river where two of the victims had been found, and a witness had seen him bundling a woman — who could have been Ms Wu — onto one of the narrowboats. The timing of him being seen with her fitted the timing of the crime. Was that Lily? And was this ginger-haired Jewish man their killer? The receipt found in Lily’s van was for a kosher café, probably Milo’s, which perhaps this fellow had frequented. She felt a spike of surprise as she sensed the dots could be joining up and certainly his description, though admittedly scant, was one she could bandy around the girls tonight. Someone from the Amhurst Park prostitute community would surely remember a ginger-haired Jewish man with ringlets? And if he was strict enough to follow the Hasidic faith — as his hairstyle suggested — then he might well be strict enough to consume only kosher fare. It was a long shot, but she felt the stirrings of excitement join her surprise.
5.30 p.m. couldn’t come fast enough for Sarah.
Cam Brodie and Angela Karim had finally arrived at their destination. It was close to 3 p.m., and they were at Limehouse rather than Bethnal Green, due to the power blackout, but they had finally got the nod from Appleton that Denny Johnston was in the interview room and ready for questioning.
‘We realise you probably want to handle this, Stu,’ Brodie began carefully, his boss’s warning ringing in his ears. ‘We can sit in …’
DI Appleton looked weary. ‘No, look, you go ahead. This is in connection with Panther and I’m well aware of the high profile of the operation. We don’t want to get in the way of it through pettiness.’ He looked around. ‘I think you can see we’ve got a big day on our hands anyway what with all the traffic complications and the power being cut. You go ahead. My people will likely listen in. I’ve got to get back over to Bethnal Green.’
‘Thanks, that’s great,’ Brodie said, glancing at Angela, seeing the relief he was feeling reflected in her expression. ‘Whatever report we produce you’ll get a copy, of course.’
‘Thank you.’ Appleton gave a tight smile. ‘I’ll leave you to it then. Don out here can help if you need anything. Johnston’s been appointed a solicitor through Legal Aid. Good luck. I hope Denny delivers.’
‘Us too,’ Angela said, smiling. ‘He’s the first break in the case.’
‘Denny’s a small-time crook. He’s also frightened. Push him, because he won’t want to be going back behind bars, I can assure you. Room four.’
‘Thanks, Stu. Let’s go,’ Brodie said to Angela.
‘I’ll leave it to you, sir,’ she said, referring to the actual interview.
‘Chime in when you want. We have to break this guy down and get a trail to follow or Hawk is off this case.’
She looked at him quizzically as they walked down the corridor. ‘You know, you strike me as ambitious. I thought the DCI having to relinquish this operation might open up all sorts of enticing pathways for you.’
He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t work like that, Angela. It won’t be me who gets the job — they’ll bring in another DCI and it could be someone like Rosemary Elliott. Ever met her? Frightening! And such a stickler for the rules that she’ll break your balls over the slightest deviation while the creeps of this world get away. I like Hawk’s way of working. He’s not uptight, he just goes with instinct and he bends the rules all the time if it means we get our man. He’s got serious clout behind him through Sharpe, so we can operate in a sort of protected environment … not that we’d admit that in the cafeteria.’ She laughed. ‘Besides, it would just be my luck that Kate gets the job!’
Angela seemed to store that away and Brodie realised he’d made an error. He hadn’t really meant it the way it came out, although deep down he occa
sionally felt threatened by Kate. She had plenty going for her, despite her sometimes prickly manner, which he was sure was due to her unhappy personal life. But that was none of his business and it was certainly not Angela’s. ‘Anyway,’ he said, as they arrived outside room four, ‘I reckon Hawk’s got every right to nail this guy. I want to catch him just to see if the DCI can control himself.’
She smirked. ‘That’s not nice, Brodie.’
He winked, and opened the door. ‘Mr Johnston? I’m DI Brodie; this is DC Karim. And you must be …?’ He looked towards the woman sitting next to Johnston.
‘I’m Shirley Mapp, Mr Johnston’s solicitor.’
Cam smiled at her, then at Denny. ‘We’ll be conducting your interview today, Mr Johnston.’
‘My name’s Denny. Look, what’s this all about?’ Johnston blustered.
Cam could see the fright in Denny’s eyes behind the brash exterior and knew that’s what he had to prey on. He held his hand up and turned on the recording equipment, reciting the necessary formulas. Then he looked at Johnston. ‘Denny, what can you tell us about the white florist’s van you delivered to Sainsbury’s car park in Whitechapel on the night of —’
‘What white van?’ Denny shrugged theatrically. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Cam saw the solicitor’s lips thin. She knew they weren’t here for fun. He pressed on. ‘Denny, before you waste more time in denial I need to let you know that we have you on security camera, not only getting out of the van — along with your mate, Alan Barnes — but we have footage that follows you both all the way to Brick Lane and into a bagel shop. The footage shows you and Barnes eating your bagels and I can even tell you when Alan Barnes parted company with you so that you could walk back to your flat that borders Shoreditch. Do you still want to deny your involvement in the murder of Ms Lily Wu?’
Johnston’s head snapped up, his jaw open and Brodie saw only horror in his expression. He kept his own countenance grave, but inwardly he smiled. Denny was about to lose the attitude.
The solicitor’s attitude was changing too. ‘DI Brodie, I must advise my client —’
Cam’s tone hardened. ‘Your client has been arrested on suspicion and may be an accessory to murder, Ms Mapp. Now I suggest you advise your client to co-operate with this investigation as fully and as frankly as he can and maybe … just maybe … the fact that he has volunteered information and assisted police might be taken into consideration.’
‘All right, look,’ Denny began, ignoring his counsel, who tried to butt in again. His attention was fixed on Brodie. ‘I delivered the fucking van. I had nothing to do with any murder, or anyone called Wu. I had no idea about a body in the back or anything in the back. I swear it.’ He put a hand over his heart. ‘I promise you we knew nothing. We were paid to leave the van in the car park, that’s all, and that’s all we did.’
‘Where are the keys?’
‘I threw them in the river.’
‘Why?’
Johnston shrugged.
‘Why?’ Brodie repeated in a reasonable tone.
‘Because of the fucking corpse,’ Johnston spat. ‘Why d’you think?’
‘Denny,’ Shirley Mapp tried to step in again, but Brodie wasn’t about to let her stop her client spilling his guts.
‘But you just said you didn’t know anything about a corpse,’ Brodie pressed.
Johnston shook his head with frustration. ‘Not then, I didn’t. Listen to me,’ he pleaded. ‘When we took the job, as far as we were concerned the van was empty. We didn’t even know why we were delivering it to a supermarket, which seemed stupid. But we did as we were asked and the man paid us one hundred quid. I gave Barnsey twenty quid to keep me company, that’s all. I know nothing about the body of the woman. The back of the van seemed empty.’
Brodie believed him, but wasn’t going to let on. He frowned deliberately. ‘I find it hard to believe you checked in the back.’
Johnston looked as though he might explode with despair. ‘He showed us! I didn’t ask to see. It was empty!’ he repeated loudly, his voice breaking on the final word. ‘The geezer showed us. Just empty buckets, a few shelves and some rolled-up sheets or something beneath the shelving.’
‘Okay, Denny,’ Brodie said, moving on. ‘Who paid you?’
He shrugged. ‘Some weirdo. I dunno his name or who he was or anything.’
‘Weird? How, exactly?’
‘Creepy.’
‘Denny, you’ll have to do better than that. I want a description — or here’s an idea, how about his name?’
‘I dunno his name.’
‘How did he find you?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he yelled.
Shirley Mapp laid a hand on his arm. ‘Denny, you need to calm down and tell the police whatever you can recall or may know about this man.’
‘Calm down? You think I’m lying but I’m telling the truth! I don’t want to go back to Wormwood Scrubs.’
‘Describe the man who employed you, Denny, please,’ Brodie continued, feigning boredom.
Johnston frowned and concentrated. ‘He was one of those Jewish geezers — you know, the ones with the ringlets and the black overcoats.’
‘He was an Hasidic Jewish man, is that what you mean?’
‘How should I know? I’m just telling you what he looked like. I dunno the difference.’
‘What else?’
‘He was big.’ Johnston mimicked wide shoulders. ‘Tall too. And he was so pale he gave me the creeps. Oh yes, and his hair was red.’
‘And how did he approach you?’ Brodie continued.
‘It was through a friend of a friend or something like that. I got a call. I was asked by this stranger — don’t ask, because he didn’t give me his name — whether I’d like to earn a hundred quid for picking up a van and driving it to Whitechapel.’
‘Weren’t you curious about who he was and how he got your number?’ Cam asked.
‘No.’
Cam suspected that to be the truth. ‘All right, so what were the arrangements once you’d agreed to this strange job.’
‘Not so strange. I’m a driver, I do jobs that are probably dodgy all the time for people.’ The solicitor’s eyes rolled in exasperation. ‘But I don’t know they’re dodgy because I don’t ask questions. So long as they pay, I don’t want to know their names or their business.’ Cam nodded, encouraging him to continue. ‘When I said I’d do it, he told me to meet him at the café down by the River Lea Rowing Club at the bottom of Stamford Park.’
‘Why there?’
‘I dunno. It’s where he suggested.’
‘And you knew it?’
‘Yeah, I know Stamford Park. I didn’t think it could be hard to find a Rowing Club.’
‘What time was this?’
Johnston sighed, looking up to the ceiling. ‘We’d agreed to meet at one in the morning. He arrived about ten past, I was already there with Barnsey. He didn’t like me having a mate there but I told him it was for security reasons, you know?’ Both police officers nodded. ‘And then he told us to follow him and he took us over a bridge. We walked along the river a bit — everything was deserted — and onto a small road and there was the van. He gave me the keys, gave me my cash, told me to just drop the van off in the Sainsbury’s car park at Whitechapel, which I know well. It was easy.’
Brodie looked puzzled. ‘Did he tell you why he needed this done?’
‘Yeah, something about his sister being a florist and he’d borrowed her van and couldn’t get it back into the city and he needed to be somewhere else urgently, blah, blah, blah.’ He shrugged. ‘Look, I told you, I don’t care. I don’t want to know their reasons. I was happy to be a driver for a hundred quid.’
‘Didn’t you think that was a lot of money for a simple job?’ Angela asked.
‘Well, I only got eighty,’ Johnston said sourly.
‘Denny, a hundred quid, no matter how or who you split it with is still a lot of money
for driving a vehicle a few miles.’
Denny pulled a face that said he didn’t think so. ‘I figured the guy was loaded, he needed it done urgently, we were convenient, no questions asked.’
‘It didn’t strike you as suspicious?’ Angela pressed him.
He shrugged. ‘I just did the job I was paid for. The bloke shone a torch in the back. It was his idea to reassure us that the van was empty — nothing dodgy going on. I asked nothing more once I had my money and saw that I wasn’t carrying anything I shouldn’t.’ He scoffed at the irony of his words. ‘How was I to know?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m not a killer.’
Brodie pushed on. ‘What else can you tell us about that night? We’re waiting for forensics to come back but you were in that van — was there anything about it or about this bloke that could clue you in to what he was up to?’
Denny shook his head miserably. ‘He only said what he needed to say. And he was creepy, so we didn’t want to hang about. You know, it was the early hours and we wanted to get the job done and get home.’
Angela feigned a frown. ‘But as eager as you were to get home on that cold night you still stopped to buy food.’
‘I had to buy the bagels just to split up the two fifties he gave me so I could pay Barnsey. Anyway,’ he grumbled, ‘the van made us hungry.’
Even Shirley Mapp gave her client a queer look.
‘The van made you hungry,’ Cam repeated.
‘Yeah, it smelled of curry or something.’
Angela’s eyes narrowed. ‘Curry?’
‘I dunno. It smelled like a restaurant in there or like someone had been eating a vindaloo,’ Denny explained. ‘That made us hungry.’
Cam watched Angela note this down. It may be nothing, he thought, but it could be important. Why would a florist’s van smell of curry? He wondered what else the forensic report would turn up. He remembered the receipt that Sarah had texted him about.
‘Have you ever been to a café called Milo’s?’ he asked, surprising everyone.
Denny frowned. ‘Where the fuck’s that?’
‘Up around Amhurst Park … on the parade.’
‘Amhurst? Are you kidding? No, mate, not me.’
Beautiful Death Page 26
