The Razor Gang Murder

by Simon McCleave

  Lucy moved her shoulder round, face touching the brickwork, and inched across to see.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a cat sprang off an old, stained mattress, yowled and bounded past her towards the fence.

  ‘Shit!’ Lucy blurted, jumping out of her skin. ‘You little fucking ...’

  With a resigned sigh, Lucy knew that whoever she had been chasing was now gone.

  She turned back, wondering if it really had been Harry’s ex-wife and what they were going to do if it was. She began to hobble – her knee hurt like hell.

  Something metallic glinted on the road by her feet. It was a set of keys. Picking them up, she saw they were a set of house keys. She wondered if the fugitive had dropped them when running away. If she gave them to Brooks, then maybe he could confirm whether it had been Karen whom she had been chasing.

  GAUGHRAN, HIS FATHER Arthur, and his Uncle Les were on the green of the 18th hole at the Dulwich and Sydenham Hill Golf Club. Gaughran was having a nightmare round as usual. If he was honest, he didn’t like playing golf mainly because, unlike his father and uncle, he wasn’t very good.

  Arthur, in his mid-60s, was a retired South London copper who had worked in the Murder Squad in the 60s and 70s. Tall and thin, with a long face and curious eyes behind thin-rimmed spectacles, he looked more like a science teacher than a hardened detective. He walked with a limp which, Gaughran knew, came from a car crash while pursuing a suspect. Uncle Les had followed a similar career path but ended up in Robbery for most of his working life.

  Gaughran took the ten-foot putt and his ball picked up speed across the perfectly trimmed green. It went sailing past the hole and ended up about twelve foot the other side. ‘Bollocks!’

  Arthur shook his head and laughed. ‘I think you should just give up, son.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you two live on this bloody golf course,’ Gaughran groaned. ‘You should be good at it.’

  As Arthur went to putt his ball, Les looked over. ‘What’s all this about a body being found off the High Street?’

  ‘Yeah, it was found at Dixon’s Timber Yard,’ Gaughran replied.

  ‘Dixon’s? That’s been there for donkeys years,’ Arthur said as he took his putt and the ball stopped about an inch from the hole. ‘You can give me that.’

  ‘Go on then.’ Les went over to his ball and grinned at Gaughran. ‘Watch and learn old son, watch and learn.’

  Arthur picked up his ball by the hole and looked at Gaughran. ‘Someone said it was Alfie Wise you found there?’

  Gaughran nodded. ‘Yeah. Weren’t you on the beat in Peckham in 1956?’

  ‘Must have been. I remember him going missing,’ Arthur said. ‘There were a couple of missing posters up in the station.’

  ‘I thought you might come and have a chat with two of the female DCs that are working the case,’ Gaughran suggested.

  ‘Plonks?’ Les snorted. It was an old-fashioned, derogatory term for female police officers.

  ‘It’s all right, thanks,’ Arthur said. ‘I can talk to you, can’t I?’

  Gaughran shook his head. ‘If you speak to me, it might prejudice the case.’

  ‘Fair enough. If you want me to come in, I can do that. I forgot that it’s all about dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s these days.’

  ‘You got a suspect yet?’ Les asked.

  ‘Nothing concrete,’ Gaughran said as he tried to line up another putt. ‘We’ve been talking to his brother.’

  Arthur hissed, ‘Charlie fucking Wise.’

  Gaughran frowned. It was unusual to see his father react like that. ‘Did you know him?’

  ‘Everyone knew Charlie Wise,’ he answered with a sneer. ‘He thought he was the Godfather of bloody Peckham.’

  Gaughran putted his ball closer to the hole. ‘What about this 211 Club? It’s come up a few times in our enquiries.’

  ‘Oh yeah. We knew all about that place,’ Arthur said.

  ‘You ever go there?’ Gaughran asked.

  ‘Me? Joking, aren’t you? Place was full of villains.’

  ‘Fisher family were involved with the club, weren’t they, Art?’ Les asked as he putted his ball.

  ‘Yeah. They were a bunch of nasty Paddies,’ Arthur said as he gestured to Gaughran’s ball. ‘Come on, sunshine. Me and Les are getting thirsty.’

  ‘And you’re buying,’ Les laughed.

  Gaughran went over to his ball, lined up the shot, and sank it in the hole.

  Arthur groaned. ‘At last.’

  Plucking his ball out, Gaughran looked over at his father. ‘We’ve had allegations that a couple of coppers were on the take from the 211 Club?’

  ‘What?’ Arthur had a face like thunder. ‘I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that!’

  Gaughran knew what Arthur and Les thought about bent coppers – they were the scum of the earth.

  Gaughran shrugged. ‘I’m just telling you what someone’s said, Dad.’

  ‘Yeah, well that’s a load of bollocks. There were bent coppers in the West End and Soho. The fucking Flying Squad. But not down these parts. No way,’ Arthur said, becoming irate.

  Les laughed and clapped Arthur on the back. ‘It’s all right, mate. Calm down.’

  Gaughran gestured to the clubhouse. ‘Come on, Dad. First round’s on me.’

  Arthur composed himself and smiled. ‘In that case, I’m having a pint and a double Jameson’s.’

  Les nodded as they left the final green. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  CHAPTER 16

  Lucy stirred sugar into her coffee in the canteen at Peckham nick. She rarely had sugar in her coffee, but she hadn’t slept well. The incident with the intruder the night before had rattled her. When Brooks had arrived home, he reassured her he would deal with it. He had also confirmed that the physical description Lucy had given him of the woman she had chased could have been Karen. It would be the third incident involving Karen in a week, and Lucy worried that her behaviour was becoming increasingly erratic and threatening.

  ‘You okay, Luce?’ asked a voice. It was Brooks. He put his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

  Christ, he must be worried. He’s usually very careful at work.

  ‘Not really,’ Lucy sighed as she took her mug of coffee over to the till. ‘We do a really difficult job, Harry. The one thing that I’ve always had is feeling safe in my own home ... but now I don’t.’

  Brooks nodded sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry, Luce. Karen says that it wasn’t her last night. With no evidence, there isn’t anything I can do.’

  ‘What about the bloody keys, Harry?’ Lucy growled. ‘Go around to the house, put the key in the front door. If it opens, you’ve got her bang to rights.’

  ‘It’s not as easy as that.’

  ‘Why not? You’re a bloody DCI, Harry,’ Lucy said as she paid for her coffee.

  ‘Karen has contacted me to say that she’s having the locks changed this morning. She doesn’t think it’s acceptable that I still have access to the property.’

  Lucy rolled her eyes and, with a heavy dose of sarcasm, said, ‘Mmm, that’s strange. It’s as if she lost a set of keys last night while running away from me, and now she needs new locks and keys. But I guess that’s just a coincidence.’

  ‘I will sort it. I’ve spoken to a magistrate to see what we need for a restraining order,’ Brooks said sheepishly. He then glanced at his watch and indicated the doors to the canteen. ‘I’ve got to get to briefing.’

  Lucy frowned as they headed towards the canteen doors. ‘I know that, Harry. I work as a detective in CID, you plank! I’m in morning briefing with you every day. What’s the matter with you?’

  As they made their way up the back stairs, Lucy felt for Brooks’ hand, held it for a second and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘Luce,’ Brooks said anxiously under his breath as he looked around.

  ‘Your hand isn’t the only thing I want to squeeze,’ Lucy giggled.

  Brooks laughed. ‘Bloody hell, Luce. You’re a nightmare!’
<
br />   They arrived at the double doors that led to the CID office. Lucy turned to face Brooks and checked both ways that the coast was clear. She squeezed his crotch and winked at him. ‘Give it ten seconds before you follow me in will you, lover boy?’

  Brooks shook his head but smiled.

  As she walked over to her desk, Ruth approached. ‘You okay?’ she asked Lucy under her breath.

  ‘Fine. I’ll talk to you about it later.’

  Ruth pointed to Gaughran who was deep in conversation with Hassan. ‘Tim’s dad is coming in this morning to talk to us. Tim said he can fill us in with some background information on Charlie and Alfie Wise from way back when.’

  ‘Sounds good. Is it me, or is Tim actually acting like a grown-up detective these days?’

  Ruth sat down. ‘Let’s see how long it lasts, eh?’

  The doors opened and Brooks strolled in. Lucy smirked to herself as she thought about what they had just been doing outside.

  ‘Morning everyone. If we can get started as quickly as we can. We’ve got a lot to get through.’ Brooks arrived at the scene board and pointed to a photo of Alfie Wise. ‘Do we have a front runner for who shot and buried Alfie Wise yet?’ The room was full of mutterings, but it was clear that opinion was divided. ‘Okay. I’ll take that as a no. Tim, what is the latest on Droy and Bannerman?’

  Gaughran sat forward in his chair. ‘They definitely have motive. And they’ve both admitted they were looking for Alfie to get revenge for Frank Weller’s murder. But they claim they were warned off by local police officers. And they both maintain that they had been called up for National Service basic training in Kent, so they weren’t even living in London the day that Alfie disappeared.’

  ‘Anyone confirmed that yet?’ Brooks asked. ‘It seems convenient.’

  Gaughran shook his head. ‘Military records are calling me back this morning, guv.’

  ‘Any progress on getting a DNA sample to match our remains?’ Brooks asked.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Not yet, guv.’

  ‘What about the carbon dating?’

  Hassan looked up. ‘Should be a result in the next day or so, guv.’

  Brooks nodded. ‘Good. Ruth, have we got any more on Trevor Walsh?’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘Nothing, guv. He can’t remember where he was that day, which is not surprising. We’ve got nothing to link him to the murder except for Droy’s claim that he and Alfie were lovers and that Walsh was jealous. It’s a non-starter at the moment. He said that he got a letter from Alfie around that time telling him he was going away and wouldn’t be around anymore.’

  Gaughran raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t suppose he’s still got that letter?’

  ‘He thinks he kept hold of it so he’s going to dig it out,’ Lucy explained.

  Brooks pointed to a recent photo of Charlie. ‘What about Sir Charles Wise? What do we think?’

  Lucy took the pen out of her mouth and looked over. ‘My instinct is that he didn’t know for certain that his brother was dead. But whether his connections to the criminal underworld made Alfie a target is another thing.’

  Ruth made eye contact with Brooks. ‘I’ve been onto Cavendish Road Police Station in Balham, guv. They’re going to dig out anything they can find on the 211 Club from the mid to late 50s. Plus, I’m getting the original missing persons file on Alfie sent up from the basement. It’s taken them this long to find it.’

  ‘Okay,’ Brooks said. ‘And I’ve arranged for some of us to go to the pub at lunchtime.’

  There were a few cheers and laughs from the room.

  Brooks smiled. ‘Yeah, well don’t get excited. Just me, Lucy and Ruth.’

  Gaughran grinned. ‘Guv, I’m not sure a threesome is appropriate.’

  There was more laughter.

  Lucy looked at Ruth and gestured to Gaughran. ‘Told you. Still a prize knobhead.’

  Brooks smiled. ‘Thanks Tim. We’re meeting a true crime journalist, Craig Sullivan. He refused to come in here and suggested The Castle. He’s a bit of a hack. You know all those bloody books you see at the train station or airport. Life Inside The Firm or The Godfather of London’s Underworld. All that bullshit.’

  Lucy gave a wry smile. ‘Why are we talking to him then, guv?’

  A uniformed officer came in and approached Gaughran. He was holding a fax.

  ‘Because he’s an expert on everything that was going on in the criminal world in London in the 50s. And given that most of the people we want to talk to have either been murdered or have died of natural causes, it seemed like a good idea,’ Brooks explained.

  Gaughran gestured to the fax he had just been handed. ‘Guv. Fax from the British Army Service Records at the National War Museum. Terry Droy and Eddie Bannerman did both complete their National Service. But because of their date of birth, they didn’t do their basic training in Kent until 1957, not late 1956.’

  Brooks raised an eyebrow. ‘Which means they were both lying to us about having an alibi.’

  CHAPTER 17

  ‘The bloody tea doesn’t get any better, does it?’ Arthur Gaughran said with a sarky grin.

  Ruth and Lucy laughed. They had been talking to Tim Gaughran’s father for a couple of minutes in the Peckham nick canteen.

  ‘Oh, is that why you put four sugars in it?’ Lucy joked.

  Arthur chortled. ‘Yeah. I don’t want to actually taste it.’

  Ruth sipped her coffee and looked over at him. ‘I’m sure that Tim has filled you in with some of the background?’

  Arthur shook his head. ‘I couldn’t believe that you found Alfie Wise after all those years.’

  ‘Do you remember him going missing?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Vaguely. I was only a bobby on the beat back then. The Wise family was well known to us around here. Especially Charlie. He drove around in a big, flash American car. Thought he was a big shot.’

  Ruth, who was now writing in her notebook, looked up. ‘We have information that he worked at the 211 Club in Balham?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Arthur said. ‘The 211 Club was the place to go in South London in the 50s if you were a face.’

  ‘What did Charlie do at the club?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘From what I know, he worked the door for a bit. And then he helped run the club. They had a casino room on the top floor. Jack ‘the Hat’ McVitie virtually lived in there. Well, that was until he accused a croupier of cheating, pulled a knife on him and got banned.’

  Ruth’s brow creased quizzically. ‘Jack the Hat? Why do I know that name?’

  ‘Reggie Kray stabbed him to death in the 60s. They never found the body. Rumour was they went out to sea off Kent and dumped it.’

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. ‘Nice ... We’re working on a theory that Alfie Wise was murdered because Charlie had crossed someone at the 211 Club.’

  ‘That was the rumour in this station. No one in CID took Alfie’s disappearance very seriously, though.’

  Ruth frowned. ‘Why not?’

  Arthur shrugged. ‘Without a body, there wasn’t even a crime. It was just a missing persons case. And in those days, CID officers were given a bit more free rein. They were basically left to get on with the job and as long as they solved crimes and nicked people, no one interfered. There was none of this crime detection rates nonsense. Charlie Wise was a flash prick, excuse my French. If his brother had gone missing, no one was really going to bust a gut to find him.’

  ‘But there was speculation in the station about what had actually happened to Alfie?’ Lucy probed.

  ‘Oh yeah. Lots of rumours. There was a family over in Tooting called the Fishers. Irish. Proper villains. They tried to get the 211 Club to pay them protection, which was pretty dangerous seeing as Freddie Foreman owned the club and he was in with the Krays. Apparently, Charlie laughed and told them to fuck off. If I remember correctly, in the October of 1956, Declan Fisher tried to throw a petrol bomb into the ground floor bar at the 211 Club. Charlie caught him outside, coshed him uncons
cious and put him into intensive care down at St George’s. Gave him brain damage. No one reported it so no police ever got involved. A month later, Alfie Wise vanished.’

  ‘So, you think the Fisher family killed Alfie in revenge?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘It was just one rumour going around at the time.’

  Ruth looked down at her notepad. ‘There is something else that you might be able to help us with ... although it’s a bit sensitive.’

  ‘Fire away. It’s all ancient history now, isn’t it?’

  ‘We’re aware of an allegation that there were detectives from the South London Murder Squad who were asking for bribes from the 211 Club? Is that possible?’ Ruth asked, aware that this was a delicate subject.

  Arthur paused for a few seconds as he took in the question. ‘No. No way. They were decent coppers, so I’m 99% sure that’s a lie.’

  Lucy sipped her tea. ‘Arthur, you said there were various rumours about what happened to Alfie. You told us about the Fisher family. Is there anything else, or anyone else, we should be looking at?’

  Arthur nodded. ‘The most obvious person to look at is Charlie Wise, or Sir Charles Wise. Christ, I couldn’t believe he got a bloody knighthood after all he’d been up to. Just shows you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Why do you think Charlie Wise would want to kill his own brother? Ruth asked.

  ‘This is only gossip, but a grass told us that Alfie Wise had told Charlie that he wanted nothing to do with what was going on at the 211 Club or what Charlie was getting himself involved in. Rumour was that Alfie had threatened to go to the police if he didn’t stop.’ Arthur looked over at them. ‘Charlie and Alfie got into a row about it. And Charlie shot him.’

  GAUGHRAN SHIFTED FORWARD on his chair. They were back in the interview room in Wandsworth Prison with Terry Droy.

  ‘You see, Terry, we’ve been onto the Army Service Records and you and Eddie didn’t do the basic training for your National Service until 1957.’

  ‘Didn’t we?’ Droy shrugged. He reached into his top pocket and took out a cigarette. ‘I don’t know. It was bloody forty years ago.’