The Razor Gang Murder

by Simon McCleave

  Hassan clicked his radio. ‘Control from Delta three eight. We are still in pursuit but have lost visual contact, over.’

  ‘Delta three eight, received. We have Alpha five seven en-route to assist, will advise, out.’

  Then suddenly, Gaughran saw the blur of red brake lights further down the main road to the right. The cars had stopped for a temporary traffic light by some roadworks.

  Gaughran pointed. ‘Isn’t that him?’

  Hassan squinted. ‘Yes, Sarge.’

  Gaughran hit the siren and the blue lights that were embedded in the radiator grill. He knew he had a short temper, but Bannerman doing a runner and hitting their car had really got to him.

  I’m coming for you, you fucker!

  With an abrupt jolt, they sped out onto the main road and down the outside of the line of waiting traffic. Gaughran could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through his body.

  The Renault pulled out of the line of traffic, zipped straight through the red light and narrowly missed a cyclist coming the other way.

  Hassan shook his head. ‘What an idiot!’ He then grabbed the radio again. ‘Control from Delta three eight. We have visual contact with suspect. Travelling north on the B2142. A blue Renault 5. Plate foxtrot seven zero, sierra, delta, yankee, over.’

  ‘Three eight received.’

  The Renault pulled out onto the other side of the road to overtake a lorry. Gaughran followed. Fifty miles per hour, fifty five miles per hour, sixty.

  Suddenly, the Renault had a tyre blow out. Bits of the wheel went flying into the air. Gaughran could smell the burnt rubber coming in through the air conditioning unit and started to brake.

  The Renault lurched left and then right as Bannerman fought to control the car. It was no use. The car clipped a lamppost, spun a full 180 degrees and then came to a stop in the middle of the road.

  ‘Jesus!’ Gaughran said.

  Hassan shook his head. ‘Christ, he was lucky. A foot either way and he’d be dead.’

  Gaughran unclipped his seatbelt and opened the car door. ‘He’ll wish he was dead by the time I finish with him.’

  Marching quickly over to the damaged Renault, he saw the driver’s door open slowly. Reaching the car, he looked at the man who had a nasty gash in his forehead – his face was now covered in blood.

  The man squinted up at him.

  ‘Take the keys out of the ignition,’ Gaughran snapped angrily, taking the cuffs from his belt.

  ‘Why don’t you fuck off!’ Bannerman said wiping the blood from his face.

  Taking a cursory glance to make sure no one was around, Gaughran kicked the man hard in the leg.

  ‘Oi, you can’t do that!’

  ‘Give me the keys!’ Gaughran growled.

  Bannerman took the keys from the ignition and handed them over.

  ‘Dickhead,’ Gaughran muttered as he held his wrists and cuffed him. ‘Eddie Bannerman, you’re under arrest for dangerous driving and criminal damage.’

  CHAPTER 13

  Sipping her hot coffee, Lucy pushed open the doors to the CID office to allow Ruth to enter ahead of her. Inside, she could see that Gaughran, Hassan, and several other detectives had assembled for the afternoon briefing that Brooks had called. When they had mentioned to him what Walsh had told them about Charlie, Brooks had been understandably concerned.

  Going over to the scene board, Brooks looked out at them. Lucy loved it when Brooks was in full DCI mode. He was really sexy. ‘Right guys. We seem to have various lines of enquiry in this investigation. I need everyone to be up to speed as to where we are. Lucy?’

  For a moment, Lucy was still thinking how sexy Brooks was when she realised that he needed her to feedback to CID what she and Ruth had learnt from their visit to Trevor Walsh. She got up from her desk, went over to the scene board and pointed to an old photo of Walsh from the 5os. ‘This morning, Ruth and I spoke to Trevor Walsh. He was the boy who was with Alfie Wise the night that Frank Weller was stabbed and killed at Balham underground station. We followed up on Terry Droy’s claim that Walsh and Alfie were in a homosexual relationship, and that Walsh was jealous. He admitted he was homosexual. He denied ever being in a relationship with Alfie and said that Alfie was bi-sexual. He then told us that Sir Charles Wise was heavily involved in the South London criminal underworld in the 1950s and early 1960s. Sir Charles, or Charlie as he was then, worked in the 211 Club in Balham, which was owned by Freddie Foreman. Foreman had links to the Kray twins.’

  Several detectives exchanged looks – it was surprising news.

  Brooks let out an audible sigh. ‘The bloody Krays yet again.’

  Ruth gave Brooks a quizzical look – she didn’t know exactly what he meant. ‘Sorry, guv. What do you mean?’

  ‘Ever since I joined the Met, the Kray twins seem to pop up in the conversation far too often for my liking. I once heard a joke headline from a London newspaper – Shocking Revelation. Man in East of London found who didn’t know the Krays!’

  There was ironic laughter in the room.

  Brooks continued. ‘Let’s just get it straight. The Kray twins were not working class heroes. They didn’t keep law and order in the East End. They were two nasty little thugs who hurt innocent people and took their money.’

  Ruth could see that Brooks was getting wound up by the mention of the notorious gangster brothers.

  Lucy picked up some photocopied newspaper articles. ‘Guv, I did some digging around. The News of the World tried to run an exposé on Wise’s alleged criminal background in the 80s when it was first suggested that he might get a knighthood. He took out a libel suit against the paper and the story never actually ran in its entirety.’

  ‘Any details of what they were going to print?’ Brooks asked.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘No, guv. It was all buried in litigation. But it sounds as if Charlie was keen that his past didn’t come out.’

  ‘Maybe we can talk to the journalist who wrote the article?’ Hassan suggested.

  ‘He died last year,’ Lucy said. ‘We could go and talk to the editor, or his widow, but I’m not sure how much they’ll give us.’

  Brooks nodded. ‘Yeah, that might end up being a bit of a rabbit hole. We’ll come back to that if we need to, Luce.’

  Ruth then pointed to a photo of Charlie Wise on the scene board. ‘Walsh claimed that Charlie had fallen out with someone in the criminal underworld. Alfie was murdered to send a message or as some kind of revenge.’

  Gaughran frowned. ‘Did he give you a name?’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘No. He said he was still too scared.’

  Brooks rubbed his chin and took a sip of his coffee. ‘The one person who would know about this is Sir Charles Wise. But I don’t suppose he’s going to admit to any of it ... Tim, what have you guys got?’

  As Ruth went back to her desk, Gaughran looked up. ‘Guv. Me and Syed went for a chat with Arnold Dixon at Dixon’s Timber Yard yesterday. It was a timber yard, even back in 1956. Dixon remembered when Alfie Wise had gone missing and said he knew him by sight. He claimed that the yard was a mess and if someone had come and buried a body over by the back, no one would have noticed.’

  Brooks frowned dubiously. ‘What did you think?’

  ‘Hard to say, guv. He didn’t seem to be hiding anything. And he pointed out that if he’d thought something or someone had been buried in his yard, he would have called the police.’

  ‘Unless he had something to do with it?’ Hassan suggested.

  ‘My instinct was that he was telling us the truth,’ Gaughran said. ‘He also confirmed this idea that Charlie Wise was some kind of gangster back then and was hanging around with some very dangerous people. In fact, Dixon said that he was surprised it wasn’t Charlie who ended up being murdered.’

  ‘Okay. What about Eddie Bannerman?’ Brooks asked.

  Hassan looked over. ‘We went to talk to Bannerman this morning. He was the other boy who was with Frank Weller the night he was killed.’


  Gaughran snorted and said, ‘And when we arrived, Bannerman did a runner. We pursued him for a couple of miles before he drove into a lamppost. He’s been seen by the police doctor and is having a little lie down in a holding cell downstairs.’

  Brooks walked slowly over to the scene board. ‘At the moment, we seem to have three lines of enquiry. Alfie Wise was killed in revenge for the death of Frank Weller. Or he had a lover’s tiff with Trevor Walsh. Or he was killed because his brother was heavily involved in criminal activities ... However, we don’t seem to have a front runner, do we?’

  Ruth shrugged. ‘They all seem viable, guv. It was forty years ago, so we don’t have any CCTV, up-to-date witness statements, or a decent crime scene.’

  Gaughran nodded. ‘Agreed. We’ve also got the problem that some of the people we might need to talk to just aren’t around anymore.’

  Brooks sat on the table. ‘Tim and Syed. I want you to go and interview Bannerman. We need to know why he ran at the mention of Alfie Wise’s name. If we know that Droy and Bannerman were looking for Alfie Wise, they have to be our prime suspects. However, if they never found Alfie, they’ll have a good idea of who did find him.’

  Hassan got up from his desk. ‘Yes, guv.’

  Brooks looked at Ruth and Lucy. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to go and talk to Charlie. Obviously I don’t need to say it, but tread very, very carefully. This man has lunch with the PM. But if there is something in his past that will allow us to find out who killed Alfie Wise, then I need him to tell us.

  By the time Gaughran and Hassan had got to Interview Room 2 on the ground floor, Bannerman had been brought up from the holding cell. He was sitting next to the duty solicitor, a tall man with a pointed nose and thin-rimmed glasses.

  Gaughran strolled over, took a chair and sat down opposite them. The room was stark with very little light. There had been a police station on the site since the late 1800s and not many improvements had been made. Hassan put a case folder down on the table, pulled his trousers up a little at the knees to stop them creasing, and sat down quietly.

  Gaughran indicated the cut on Bannerman’s temple that now had two butterfly stitches. ‘Looks nasty, Eddie. But then again, if you drive like a lunatic, things like that will happen.’

  Bannerman sat with his arms folded and avoided eye contact. His double chin and cheeks were covered in stubble and he looked like he hadn’t washed for a week.

  ‘We asked you if we could speak to you about Alfie Wise and then you decided to do a runner. Why is that Eddie?’ Hassan asked.

  Bannerman sighed. ‘Why do you think?’

  Hassan shrugged. ‘I haven’t got a clue. You tell me.’

  ‘You gonna charge me with something so I can get out of this shithole and go home?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Gaughran snorted as he leant forward and fixed Bannerman with a stare. ‘You’re going nowhere until you tell us about Alfie Wise.’

  The duty solicitor frowned. ‘You have to disclose to me and my client why he has been arrested and held.’

  ‘I’m not sure where to start.’ Gaughran smiled, leant over and tapped the folder that sat in front of Hassan. ‘For starters, according to the DVLA, Eddie, you’re in the middle of a one-year ban for drink driving. Is that right?’

  Bannerman looked at him. ‘No comment.’

  Gaughran sighed heavily. ‘Oh, we’re going down that route, are we? Not very clever on your part, Eddie.’

  ‘Why don’t you want to talk to us about Alfie Wise?’ Hassan asked.

  ‘Bloody hell. You two should know why more than anyone.’

  Gaughran exchanged a confused look with Hassan. What the hell is he talking about?

  ‘Let’s start at the beginning. You were with Frank Weller and Terry Droy when you got into a fight with Alfie Wise and Trevor Walsh on Balham High Street on the 13th November 1956. Correct?’ Gaughran asked, sitting back in his chair. He wanted to get Bannerman talking and so getting him to confirm what was already on record was a decent start.

  ‘Yeah, I was there.’

  ‘What had you been doing that night, Eddie?’ Hassan asked.

  ‘Me and Terry had been called up to do our National Service. We went out with Frank for a few drinks before we went off to do our basic training,’ Bannerman explained.

  ‘And then what?’ Gaughran asked.

  ‘We headed down to Balham where Terry lived. He had a bottle of whiskey stashed somewhere and we were gonna have a few more drinks.’

  ‘Except that’s not what happened, is it?’

  ‘No. There were a couple of kids sitting at the bus stop. One of them got into a row with Frank and called him a cunt. Next thing it kicked off. I saw Frank chasing that Alfie down to Balham station.’

  ‘Did you follow them down there?’

  Bannerman shook his head. ‘No. I saw a couple of coppers coming towards us so me and Terry did a runner.’

  ‘So when did you know that Frank Weller had been stabbed and killed by Alfie Wise?’ Hassan asked.

  ‘When I saw a paper the next day. My old man showed me it because he knew Frank was my mate.’

  ‘Alfie Wise stabbed and killed your mate.’ Gaughran raised an eyebrow. ‘How did that make you feel, Eddie?’

  Bannerman pulled a face. ‘How d’you think it made me feel? I’d known Frank all my life.’

  ‘So, you were bloody angry. And you and Terry Droy tried to track down Alfie Wise to get revenge? Is that correct?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Hassan gestured to his notebook. ‘Terry told us you tried to find Alfie, but you never found him. And then he disappeared. Is that right?’

  Bannerman snarled. ‘Yeah. Me and Terry were doing our National Service by the time all the missing posters went up. We weren’t even in London, we were in Kent.’

  Gaughran looked over at Hassan. So now they’ve magically got an alibi.

  ‘Funny that you and Terry haven’t mentioned that before,’ Gaughran said sarcastically.

  Bannerman shrugged. ‘Long time ago. My memory is shocking.’

  Hassan glared at him. ‘We can check that, Eddie.’

  ‘Check all you like. Anyway, we’d stopped looking for Alfie before we even left for basic training.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘We were warned not to look for him. We didn’t have much of a choice.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Gaughran asked.

  ‘Alfie and Charlie were into some pretty heavy stuff. Hanging around with some very dangerous people. We were warned to keep our noses out by one of your lot,’ Bannerman explained.

  Hassan shifted forward in his chair and furrowed his brow. ‘You mean a police officer?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. The word was that there were a couple of detectives from the South London Murder Squad looking for a regular backhander from the 211 Club in exchange for turning a blind eye to the after-hours drinking, gambling and drugs. Plus, they had a few brasses knocking around,’ Bannerman explained. ‘Except Charlie and the other blokes around the club told them to piss off. There was a fight, and some detective got thrown down the stairs and broke his leg. Three days later Alfie Wise disappeared off the face of the earth.’

  Gaughran felt his stomach turn. He didn’t like what Bannerman was implying. ‘Are you trying to say that bent coppers were responsible for whatever happened to Alfie Wise?’

  Bannerman gave him an ironic smile. ‘I’m sitting in a South London police station, so I’m not saying anything. But Charlie Wise had a fight with a copper. Then his brother disappeared and you’ve only just found him. You can draw your own conclusions.’

  CHAPTER 14

  Ruth and Lucy had been looking out at the view from Charlie’s seventeenth floor company reception window for about ten minutes now. They had come to ask him a few questions, and this time they had arrived unannounced. It was a tactic designed to catch him a little off guard. Since their last meeting, they had learned of Charlie’s nefarious past and his in
volvement in South London’s gangland. The receptionist said that she wasn’t sure where Sir Charles was. He had been in earlier, so she was going to talk to his PA and track him down.

  It was late afternoon and Ruth gazed out at the magnificent view of the capital below. The sun was beginning to set to the west. The hazy sky above the capital was turning tangerine and there were strands of pink clouds, like pulled candyfloss, where the horizon was visible in the distance.

  Lucy pointed down towards the Thames below them. ‘When my grandad, my mum’s dad, got back from the war, he used to be a lamplighter. My family lived on an estate over in Pimlico. Every evening, just before dusk, he’d jump on his bike and cycle down the embankment from Pimlico right down to St Paul’s. He had to stop at every gas streetlamp, reach up with a long lighting pole and light it. Took him nearly three hours. And then, at dawn, he’d go out again and turn them all off. And you know how much he got a week for doing that?’

  Ruth shrugged. ‘Not a lot.’

  ‘Five pounds and twelve shillings a week.’

  Charlie’s glamorous PA arrived in a fluster. ‘Hi there. I’m afraid Sir Charles has gone to Belfast this afternoon for a meeting. I could make an appointment later in the week if you like?’

  Ruth glanced at Lucy and raised a brow. ‘Erm, that’s fine. We’ll try to catch up with him in the next few days.’

  The PA smiled and left them.

  Ruth waited until she was out of earshot and then said, ‘Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

  ‘A little bit, yeah.’ Lucy gestured to the double doors, and they headed out to the state-of-the-art lifts. ‘Your brother has been missing for forty years. His body is discovered two days ago. And you decide to go and pop off to Ireland on a business trip.’

  The lift arrived, and they got in. Ruth pushed the button for the ground floor.

  ‘Maybe he wants to keep busy?’ Ruth suggested.

  ‘If he’s not in the office, you’d think he’d be at home with his wife, waiting for any news of the investigation.’