The Razor Gang Murder

by Simon McCleave

  Droy stared at Gaughran for a few seconds as he bit his lip. ‘You found a body then have you?’

  ‘Maybe. If we did find a body, Terry, would you be nervous about that?’ Hassan asked.

  Droy continued to stare at Gaughran, who assumed that Droy wouldn’t speak to Hassan because he was Asian. That’s what blokes like Terry Droy were like.

  Droy smiled and shook his head. ‘No. You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree.’

  Gaughran shrugged. ‘Then you won’t mind us taking a DNA sample from you?’

  Terry smiled. ‘Knock yourself out. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  Droy’s confidence concerned Gaughran. Why’s he so bloody confident? Either he’s very good at bluffing, or he’s got nothing to hide.

  Gaughran knew it was time to hit Droy with the discovery of Alfie Wise’s body and see if that rattled him.

  Waiting a good ten seconds, Gaughran glowered across at Droy and said, ‘We’ve found a body which we believe is Alfie Wise. Is there anything you can tell us about that Terry?’

  Droy seemed unflustered as he shook his head. ‘Nothing to do with me, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m not happy that he’s dead.’

  ‘What happened, Terry? You and Eddie Bannerman found out it was Alfie Wise that had killed Frank. You tracked him down, put a bullet in his head and then buried him?’

  Droy snorted. ‘Wish I had. But you’re on the wrong track. Alfie Wise’s murder didn’t have anything to do with Frank.’

  Gaughran glanced over at Hassan for a second. What’s he talking about?

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘After Frank was killed, me and Eddie did try to track Alfie Wise down. We never found him. But the word was that Alfie was going to get hurt because he was a poof.’

  Gaughran frowned. ‘Alfie Wise was gay?’

  Droy laughed. ‘Yeah. Had a boyfriend. Some bloke called Trevor Walsh. We found him and he shat his pants. Thought we were Old Bill.’

  Gaughran knew that in the 1950s, you could be arrested and face a fine or imprisonment for being gay.

  ‘Rumour had it that Alfie put it about with every bloke he could get his hands on. Really rubbed this bloke Walshy’s face in it.’

  Gaughran wondered if Droy was telling the truth or just muddying the water.

  Droy raised his eyebrow and sat forward. ‘You might wanna have a look at his brother too. Charlie. Sir Charles or whatever he calls himself these days.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Someone told me he hated poofs. Charlie was humiliated because his brother was queer. Maybe one day he decided Alfie was just too much of an embarrassment and got rid of him.’

  CHAPTER 9

  It was the middle of the afternoon when Ruth finally found an address for Trevor Walsh. She had contacted the main secondary school in Peckham, who consulted their records and confirmed that Trevor Andrew Walsh had attended the school between 1950 and 1956. His date of birth was 12th July 1939. Now that she had a name and date of birth, Ruth knew she was far closer to tracking him down. Having contacted the electoral register, main utility and mobile phone providers, she had drawn a blank. However, a phone call to the DVLA allowed her to check for a driving licence for any person named Trevor Andrew Walsh born in 1939. There was only one, and his full date of birth matched the one Ruth had been given by the school. The DVLA gave her the registered address in Catford, South East London.

  Looking up from her desk in CID, Ruth saw Brooks had come in. Across from her, Gaughran and Hassan were both on the phone, chasing leads. They had described their meeting with Terry Droy - his denial of any involvement with Alfie Wise’s death and his disclosure that Alfie was gay. It had brought home to Ruth how horrendous it must have been to be gay only thirty years earlier. It wasn’t until the Sexual Offences Act of 1967 that homosexuality had been made legal. That was only two years before Ruth was born. Given her current relationship with Shiori, she was shocked at the thought that not that long ago it would have been illegal.

  Brooks scanned the room. ‘Can you guys tell me where we’re at with the Alfie Wise investigation? I’ve had a phone call from the Commissioner. He wants us to tread very carefully as Sir Charles Wise is high profile.’

  Gaughran looked up. ‘Terry Droy told us he and Eddie Bannerman tried to find Alfie Wise but they never found him before he disappeared.’

  Brooks raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Droy told us that Alfie Wise was a promiscuous homosexual. He implied that Trevor Walsh was a jealous lover. He also said that rumours were that Charlie Wise wasn’t pleased that his brother was gay.’

  Ruth was dubious. She frowned and asked, ‘What, so he just put a bullet in his brother’s head?’

  Brooks shrugged. ‘I’ve heard worse. Very different world in the 50s. If you were working class from round here, and gay, you kept it very quiet.’

  Ruth nodded. ‘That might well be true, but Charlie was genuinely upset when he realised we might have found his brother. I really don’t think he had anything to do with it.’

  ‘We’ll keep that hypothesis on the back burner,’ Brooks said, and then looked at Hassan. ‘Syed, what did you think about what Droy said?’

  Hassan sat back in his chair. ‘He seemed very confident that there would be nothing at the crime scene that might implicate him. But he would say that, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Well, yeah. He’s not going to confess just because you’ve told him a body’s been found,’ Brooks said. ‘What about the old boy who owns Dixon’s Timber Yard?’

  Gaughran looked over, ‘Yeah, Arnold Dixon. Me and Syed are going to have a chat with him at the yard in an hour.’

  ‘Good. See if he remembers anything. Someone buried Alfie Wise in his yard forty years ago. He must have seen or heard something.’

  The door opened and Lucy came in. She waved a fax at them. ‘I’ve got an address for Eddie Bannerman.’

  Brooks looked at his watch before glancing back at Gaughran. ‘Tim and Syed. First thing tomorrow, go and see what you can get out of Eddie Bannerman.’ Brooks looked over at Ruth and Lucy, who had now returned to their desks. ‘Ruth and Lucy. Go and pay Sir Charles Wise another visit now on the pretence that you are keeping him in the loop with the investigation. Stress that we are doing everything we can to find out what happened to his brother. And then, with the utmost tact, ask about Alfie Wise’s sexuality.’

  Ruth gestured to her notepad. ‘Yes, guv. I’ve now got an address for Trevor Walsh.’

  ‘Right, go and see him first thing tomorrow.’ Brooks looked at them. ‘Good work, guys.’

  CHAPTER 10

  Gazing out of the window of the impressive seventeenth floor office, Lucy watched as a Thames River cruise boat moved slowly east down the river. Charlie had agreed to meet her and Ruth at the offices of his company, Stanmore, that were on the 16th and 17th floors of a huge office block on the south side of the Thames, a mile east of the Southbank Centre and National Theatre. From where she stood in the large reception and waiting area, Lucy could see for miles. To the north, the towering television mast at Alexander Palace, and to the east the high rise towers of Canary Wharf, which had been open since the early 90s.

  ‘It’s quite a view,’ said a man’s voice. It was Charlie Wise. He smiled and joined Lucy and Ruth at the window.

  Lucy was still transfixed by what she could see. ‘It’s incredible.’

  ‘Over two thousand years of history stretched out before us,’ Charlie said. ‘Makes you think. You should see how the Yanks react when they look out there.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Lucy said as she gazed at the dome of St Paul’s down to the right.

  ‘Of course, I had to have my offices south of the Thames. I find they’re a funny lot once you get on the other side of the river,’ Charlie said sardonically.

  Ruth laughed. ‘That’s what my dad always said.’

  ‘Then your dad’s a wise man.’

  He gestured for them to
follow him into his office. It was top spec, with designer furniture and an enormous window with a similar view over London. At the far end, there were a couple of framed Crystal Palace FC shirts.

  ‘Come and sit down. You want tea or coffee?’ Charlie asked as they sat down at a large glass boardroom table with black and chrome chairs.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘We’re fine. Thanks.’

  Ruth smiled over at him. ‘It’s really just a courtesy call to update you on the case. And to assure you that we’re going to do everything in our power to find out what happened to your brother.’

  Lucy could tell from Ruth’s manner, and from several comments she’d made, that she had a soft spot for Charlie. It wasn’t a surprise. He was charismatic and charming, but also genuinely self-effacing.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. It’s been quite emotional since you told me the news,’ Charlie admitted. ‘Sounds strange, but I wish my sister Evelyn had been around to find out what had happened to Alfie. She talked about him a lot in the last few days of her life. It really got to her not knowing what had happened to him or where he was.’

  ‘Of course. We’ve been speaking to various people who knew Alfie at the time he disappeared. Trying to build up a picture of what he was like and what was going on in his life,’ Ruth explained. ‘And obviously we are treating those seeking revenge for Frank Weller’s death as the primary focus of our investigation.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘Yeah, obviously.’

  Lucy caught Ruth’s eye and could see that she felt awkward. On the journey to the South Bank, they had agreed that talking to Charlie about the possibility that Alfie was gay was going to be tricky.

  ‘However, there is something that has come to our attention that we need to talk to you about, Charlie. And it’s delicate,’ Lucy said gently.

  Charlie shrugged. ‘I’ve been around the block a few times. And if it’s going to help get justice for Alfie, then I’m more than happy to discuss anything.’

  ‘Did you ever have any doubts about Alfie’s sexuality?’

  Charlie frowned and ran his hand over his chin. ‘Alfie? No, I don’t think so.’

  That was a very calm, considered reaction, Lucy thought.

  ‘Did you ever know Alfie to have a girlfriend?’ Lucy asked.

  Charlie sat back in his seat and took a sip of water. ‘Now that you mention it, not really. He made comments about birds that he fancied. But I don’t remember a proper girlfriend. Not that it would have mattered to me either way. I don’t care about that sort of thing.’

  Either Charlie was an excellent liar, or he genuinely had no idea that Alfie might have been gay and wouldn’t have cared if he had been.

  Lucy looked over at him. ‘It’s something that came up in an interview. And we’re trying to corroborate the information.’

  Charlie thought for a few seconds. ‘No ... I would have noticed something. But maybe I didn’t. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘The boy he was with the night that Frank Weller was killed ...’ Ruth said.

  ‘Trevor Walsh? Everyone round there called him Walshy.’

  ‘We believe that he might have been Alfie’s boyfriend?’

  ‘Really? I mean, everyone thought Walshy was a bit light on his feet.’ Charlie then pulled a face. ‘Sorry, that’s not the right thing to say these days is it?’

  ‘You suspected Trevor Walsh was gay?’ Ruth asked.

  Charlie nodded emphatically. ‘Yeah. Well, everyone did.’

  ‘Could they have fallen out about something?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘I dunno.’ Charlie was clearly deep in thought, as if the penny had dropped about something. ‘Christ, I never thought that Alfie could have disappeared because he was gay ... It’s hard for me to get my head around. But if you’re looking at Walshy, that would make sense.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Trevor Walsh wasn’t the full shilling, if you know what I mean. He had a real temper on him. I told Alfie to stop knocking about with him. I knew it was gonna land them in trouble one day. But I never thought he would ever hurt Alfie.’

  Lucy looked over at Charlie. ‘And you wouldn’t have minded if Alfie was gay?’

  ‘No,’ Charlie snorted. ‘Wouldn’t have bothered me one bit.’

  Lucy frowned. ‘Not even in 1956?’

  Charlie shook his head and gave them a meaningful look. ‘There’s this myth that being gay makes you less of a man or makes you weak. The hardest, most frightening man I ever met was Ronnie Kray, and he was as bent as a nine bob note. Some bloke called Ronnie a fat poof, and Ronnie walked into a pub and put a bullet in his head. So, no. I never had a problem with gay men.’

  THE HEAT OF THE DAY had subsided a little by the time Gaughran and Hassan drew up in the customer car park at Dixon’s Timber Yard. As he got out of the car, Gaughran took off his sunglasses and was hit by the smell of chemicals and wood that had built up over the day. The yard was busy, and he watched as a noisy forklift truck whizzed by with wooden pallets piled up and strapped down.

  A young man approached and, before he had chance to say anything, Gaughran had pulled out and flashed his warrant card. ‘DS Gaughran and DC Hassan, Peckham CID. We’re here to see Arnold Dixon.’

  Gaughran would never get tired of the thrill of pulling out and flashing his warrant card and seeing people’s reactions. Most of the time, they were frightened or respectful. There were a few morons who immediately became hostile or argumentative, but he knew how to deal with scrotes like that. He remembered the pride he’d felt watching his old man pulling out his warrant card when he’d spotted a kid in Tesco pushing joints of meat into the arms of his coat. The look on the kid’s face was priceless, and Gaughran had given him a smirk as the security guard had carted him away.

  ‘He’s over in the Portakabin,’ the young man said, gesturing to the right of the car park.

  As they made their way across the car park, Gaughran looked over at the police tape and the mounds of earth where Alfie Wise’s remains had been found.

  Staring intently at the area, he stopped.

  ‘Something wrong, Sarge?’ Hassan asked.

  ‘If this was your yard, even if it was forty years ago, you’d know what it looked like wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘I mean you come here every day. Serving customers, helping pile up the wood.’

  Hassan nodded, but Gaughran could see that they weren’t on the same page.

  ‘So, if someone came here, dug a bloody great hole, buried a body and filled it in again, you would think that someone would have noticed, wouldn’t you?’

  Hassan gave a wry smile. ‘Now that you’ve put it like that, yeah.’

  ‘I mean it’s got to be difficult to do that and not leave any mess or trace that shows what you’ve done.’ Gaughran gestured over to the Portakabin. ‘Let’s have a word, shall we?’

  A few seconds later, he knocked on the flimsy-looking door and an elderly man answered it. He was around seventy, bald, with a barrel chest and thick forearms that were decorated with faded naval tattoos.

  ‘Hello?’ he said with a puzzled look on his face.

  Gaughran waved his warrant card again. ‘Looking for an Arnold Dixon.’

  The man gave a wry smile. ‘Well then, it’s your lucky day. I was expecting you. Why don’t you come in?’

  As they entered the Portakabin, a wave of cigarette smoke hit Gaughran. The office was untidy with bills and shabby old adverts stuck to the wall. There was a Millwall FC calendar by the door.

  Gaughran rolled his eyes. ‘You lot Millwall fans, are you?’

  Dixon nodded. ‘Yeah. I take it you’re not then?’

  ‘Chelsea,’ Gaughran said puffing out his chest a little. He was proud of his football team and Millwall were the enemy. Their fans were made up of tough dockers from places like Deptford in the South East of London. When the two teams played, there was always a guarantee of trouble and fighting.

  Dixon snorted. ‘Chelsea? Fuck
ing Chelsea.’

  ‘Yeah, well we’ll see you next time we drop down a division,’ Gaughran said, mocking him.

  Dixon sat down, gestured to some seats and smiled. ‘Well, I was gonna offer you a cuppa, but not anymore!’

  Gaughran laughed as he and Hassan sat down on some plastic chairs. ‘As you’re aware, we found the remains of a body here a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Yeah. Bit of a shock, that was,’ Dixon said.

  Hassan fished out his notebook. ‘We believe that the remains have been there for over forty years.’

  ‘It said something about that on the news the other day.’

  ‘Does the name Alfie Wise mean anything to you?’

  Dixon thought for second and nodded. ‘Yeah. Alfie Wise. I remember when he went missing all those years ago. You think that’s who you found here?’

  ‘We’re not sure yet.’ Gaughran sat forward on his chair. ‘Did you know Alfie Wise then?’

  Dixon shook his head. ‘Not really. I’d seen him around a few times. I knew his brother Charlie a bit. We’d knock about together when we was kids up at the park.’

  ‘We believe that Alfie Wise’s body might have been buried in your yard around the 27th November 1956,’ Hassan said.

  Dixon shrugged. ‘You’re not expecting me to remember what I was doing that day, are you? I can’t remember what I had for fucking breakfast yesterday.’

  Gaughran gave a wry smile. ‘No ... But you do remember hearing that Alfie Wise had gone missing in the area?’

  Dixon nodded. ‘Oh yeah. There were posters up on the High Street. People were talking about it in the boozer.’

  ‘If you can think back to that time, do you ever remember seeing anything suspicious in your yard?’ Hassan asked.

  Dixon shook his head. ‘The thing is, it didn’t look like it does now. Where those builders found the body was all overgrown. There was rubble from where the old warehouse had been. It was a right mess.’