by Linda Regan
“Felix is going to make a statement against Eddie Chang?” Alison asked, looking from Banham to Felix Greene and back again.
Felix’s mother stood up and held out her hand to Banham. “Detective Inspector, my son told me today that he has known all along who stabbed him, but he was too afraid to say anything. He also told me the reason someone tried to kill him; he was there when Otis’s mother was shot last summer.” She sat down quickly, as if the effort of divulging all this was too much effort. She put out a hand to her son, and he went to stand beside her, a protective arm around her shoulders. “He used to be a strong boy,” she said quietly, “but he has become very nervous. He has nightmares and sometimes he even sleepwalks.”
There was a pause. Felix stared at the carpet looking slightly embarrassed. After a few moments his mother continued. “The man who stabbed my son told him he would kill me if Felix uttered a word.” She took a deep breath. “Felix didn’t tell me that until today, when Johnny and Otis came to our house. Detective Inspector, I will not have my son persecuted. I want that man behind bars where he belongs. We are God-fearing people – we go to church regular. Johnny and Otis too, before their mother died. They’re good boys like my Felix – they got themselves mixed up with the wrong sorts.”
Johnny was standing by the door, but Otis had moved to the other side of Mrs Greene’s chair. A tear rolled down his cheek and he knelt on the floor beside her. She put a motherly hand on Otis’s head and rubbed his dreadlocks; he didn’t seem to object.
“I have told them all that the only way forward is to tell the truth,” she said with a note of defiance. “Somebody has to stand up to this demon. He killed Letitia Gladman, and but for the grace of God my son would be dead too.”
Felix gripped his mother’s hand. She sat upright in the armchair, the embodiment of calm and dignity.
“Felix? Can you tell us who stabbed you?” Alison asked him gently.
He looked at his mother and she nodded. “Go on, son. Tell the lady the truth.”
“That policeman.”
Alison’s heart hit her boots. They should have known; Eddie Chang didn’t do his own dirty work. They still didn’t have him. Banham’s expression was stony.
“What was his name? Do you know?” she asked the boy.
“Fisher. He’s not a real policeman – he’s one of those, you know, support people. But he’s not the... what my mum just said. The demon. The bad man.”
“OK. Can you tell us about the bad man? You said you wanted to give us a statement. What was his name?”
She held her breath, sending up silent prayers to any god who happened to be listening.
“Chang. Eddie Chang.”
Relief flooded Alison’s veins and she started to breathe again.
Felix went on, “He came to visit me in hospital. He told me I should be dead, and I was a very lucky boy. I knew that already – I thought he was another doctor, at first anyway. But he gave me some money, quite a lot of money, and doctors only give you medicine. And ’sides, I remembered I seen him before – he wasn’t no doctor. Then he said I should keep quiet. I asked him about what, and he said if I talked about who stabbed me, my mum would die.”
“Eddie Chang said that to you?”
“Yes, miss. He said he would kill my mother just like he killed Otis’s.”
“Was anyone else there when he said it?” Alison asked.
“No, but I believed him. He shot Otis’s mother for sure. I seen him do it. That’s why I didn’t tell no one who stabbed me.”
The boy was obviously in distress, but Alison had no choice; they were so nearly there. She pushed on. “You were there that day? You actually saw him shoot Otis’s mother?”
“Yes, miss. I took a photo. That’s why that policeman stabbed me. He wanted my phone with the picture.”
“Before he stabbed you, did you tell anyone else you had a photo of the man that shot Otis’s mother?”
“No, I didn’t tell no one. That is one scary dude, man.” Felix was trembling. “You gotta understand, I thought he would come after me – and then the next day I got stabbed. I didn’t tell no one who did it because I was afraid for my mum.”
“It’s all right,” Banham said gently. “You’ve been very brave. Nothing will happen to you now. We will make sure it doesn’t.”
Janet Greene patted her son’s hand. “You’re a good boy,” she said. “Sometimes it’s hard, but you’re a good boy.”
“It’s over now,” Banham told him. “Eddie Chang will go to prison.”
Alison and Banham exchanged a look. It was still touch and go; even if Felix could be persuaded into court, all they had was the testimony of a fifteen-year-old boy. Without more solid evidence, Chang was still capable of wriggling out of their clutches despite everything he had done.
Then Felix changed everything.
“Miss?” he said to Alison. “Do you want the photo I took? It’s here.”
He dug in his pocket and drew out a mobile phone.
Alison could hardly believe this was happening. “I thought you said Fisher took it?”
“That was my mum’s. I didn’t know what to do with the photo. Otis’s mum was dead, but that man scared me even before the hospital. So I gave my phone to Mum, and took hers to school that day.”
Mrs Greene looked as flabbergasted as Alison felt.
“Did you know about this?” Alison asked her, knowing the answer. The other woman shook her head and stared in disbelief at her son. “You never said why you wanted me to have your phone,” she told him. “Why didn’t you say?”
“That’s not important any more,” Banham intervened. “What matters is Felix has still got the picture. Can I see it, please?”
Felix flicked some buttons and passed the phone to Banham. “It’s not that clear, but that’s Mrs Gladman lying on the pavement, and you can see it’s the bad man. He’s still holding the gun, look.”
Alison and Banham looked at the picture and then at each other. The boy had described exactly what was on the tiny screen.
“Felix, this is brilliant,” Alison said. “Are you are willing to stand up in court and tell the judge and jury what you’ve just us?”
Felix opened his mouth to speak, but his mother hushed him. “You have to protect us,” she said urgently. “That Mr Chang has many men working for him and we don’t want to be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives. What kind of life is that for a growing boy?” She paused and looked at Johnny and Otis. “Johnny said you told him about a scheme – I think he said it was witness protection, where they get new names and a place to stay a long way from here, somewhere nobody knows them. But two boys on their own... This time they broke the law because they were scared of that man – but who knows what kind of trouble will find them if they have no one to look out for them? When poor Letitia passed over, I made a promise that I would do that, look out for them I mean, and I haven’t been able to keep that promise yet. Detective Inspector, if I look out for them, will you look out for me and Felix? Can we all four go away somewhere new as a family?”
She spoke to Banham, but Alison answered. “We’ll put you under police protection right away. You’ll need to stay close by until the trial, but afterwards all four of you can go into the witness protection programme. I’ll get someone to explain what it means, but you’re right about moving away and having new identities. And I’m sure we can make sure you stay together.”
The atmosphere in the room had changed, as if a heavy weight had been lifted and the air had cleared. Alison looked at Banham. They had him. They had the evidence that they’d been trying to get for five years to put Eddie Chang away. Felix Greene had simply handed them the picture, totally oblivious that he had finally allowed them to nail the most dangerous criminal Greater London had known in a long time.
So why wasn’t she jumping for joy?
Lottie was standing in the doorway, with Bobby and Madeleine holding fast to her hands. “This probably feels lik
e a champagne moment to you,” she said to her brother, “but I think I’d rather have a cup of tea.”
Banham grinned and nodded, and Lottie headed for the kitchen. Otis Gladman was still on his knees beside Mrs Greene’s chair.
“You have to get away from the gang on your estate,” Banham said to him. “They’re bad news, and you’ll end up in big trouble if you hang around with them.”
“He’s already in big trouble,” Johnny said sharply. “You think I want my brother stealing, and being a delivery boy for drug dealers?” He cuffed the side of Otis’s head. “I’ve been too busy trying to stop Chang hurting him to take proper care of him. He was going the same way as Mum and I didn’t even see it.”
Janet Greene squeezed Johnny’s hand. “Not any more. Our flat is small, but we’ll find room for both of you, till we move away.”
“Good idea,” Alison said. “It’s easier to protect you if you’re all under one roof.” She held up Felix’s phone. “And you don’t need to worry about Eddie Chang. He’s going to prison, and when he comes out he’ll be a very old man. If he ever does come out.”
“I have to be honest,” Banham said to Johnny and Otis. “There are still charges you two will have to answer. But you were coerced and taken in, and that’s what we’ll be telling the CPS. Whether or not they proceed is up to them – but we’ll do all we can.”
The photo was grainy, but it was clearly Eddie Chang holding a gun. The CPS were now confident they would win the case – but then Penny Starr played another blinder. The Astra Cadix gun Terry King had waved around on the night of the fire had gone to Ballistics. The report was back – and it confirmed that this was the gun which had shot Mrs Gladman. Eddie Chang’s prints were on it as well as Terry’s, and some careful enhancement of Felix Greene’s photo revealed that it was identical to the gun Eddie Chang was pointing at Mrs Gladman’s head. The CPS were now so confident they would win their case that they sent the investigation team a case of champagne.
No one felt like drinking it.
***
Banham had gone out, and Alison was sitting at Isabelle’s desk sorting through the paperwork the young DC had left behind. Crowther was at his desk in front, writing his report.
Crowther’s words were ringing round inside Alison’s head. “If you want to succeed you have to take a few chances.” He had said it when he was persuading her to let Millie work undercover at Doubles. She had taken those chances, and they had solved four murders and gathered enough evidence to put a dangerous criminal away.
But it had cost her a friend and the police a good officer.
Alison still believed a newly qualified PCSO shouldn’t have been allowed in on such a dangerous mission. It was her decision, and her heart had said a firm no. It had been a mistake to give in. If she had stuck to her guns, Andrew Fisher wouldn’t have been in the club, and Isabelle might even be alive.
And what about her affair with Banham? Was that another mistake? They still hadn’t resolved their disagreement about his emotional involvement in the case, and at the moment she didn’t know if they had a future. She just knew she wanted time to think things through.
Crowther had also made mistakes, first in his choice of informant, then by having an affair with Millie. As things had turned out, they had all underestimated Millie; not only could she look out for herself, but she possessed useful skills and a degree of courage that had saved the lives of eleven young eastern European girls, and come close to saving a fellow police officer.
Isabelle had made a mistake too. Falling for Crowther meant she had missed out on the promotion she coveted; and since going into the club had almost certainly been a way of impressing him, it ultimately cost her her life.
Alison buried her face in her hands. Was the job worth all this?
A tap on the shoulder broke into her thoughts. It was Banham.
“I’ve just been on the internet,” he told her. “I’ve booked us on a plane leaving for Venice tomorrow morning.”
“Is this a good idea?” She heard herself speak, but wasn’t at all sure what she’d meant to say.
“You need a break. It’s only for three nights.”
She couldn’t look at him. Why did he have to keep pushing her?
“It’s a present from me. A fabulous hotel.” There was a pause. “And it comes with no strings attached.”
Now she looked at him. “I’m not sure I want a commitment.”
“I know.” His expression was unreadable. “You can go on your own if you want.”
For a moment she was tempted. Then she realised that wasn’t what she wanted at all. She shook her head. “Just don’t push me.”
“I won’t.”
She still had a report to write. Banham sat down at the next desk and started writing his. The tickets lay next to the computer Alison was using. Neither of them spared the white envelope a glance.
Crowther was at the desk in front, quietly tapping the keyboard. Ten minutes later Penny Starr walked in and sat on the corner. “Colin, I know how hard this has been for you. You and Isabelle were very close.”
Crowther lifted his head and looked at Alison.
Compassion and love were written across Penny’s face. She had no idea exactly how close, Alison thought.
“I thought you might enjoy a few days away,” Penny was saying. “So I’ve booked us a few nights in Venice.” She handed him an envelope.
Alison’s eyes met Banham. Neither of them dared look at Crowther or Penny.
“Shouldn’t you have consulted me first?” Crowther said to her.
“No.” Penny’s grin made her look like a mischievous imp. “I’m your girlfriend. I know what’s best for you. Don’t argue!”
Suddenly Alison saw the funny side. She picked up the envelope on her own desk and opened it. “Where are you staying?” she asked Penny.
“Hotel Kette,” Penny told her. “It’s lovely, right by the water, near the shops and very close to St Mark’s Square.”
Alison looked down at the booking form she had just slid out of the envelope. It said in unmistakeable block capitals: HOTEL KETTE – TWO SINGLE ROOMS.
“I hope you booked a room the other end of the building,” Banham said to Penny.
“Pardon me?”
Crowther lifted his eyebrows questioningly.
Alison held up the booking form so they could both read it.
“Oh well,” Crowther said. “We can drown in passion in the city of love, or drown our sorrows with the best Italian wines. Or we can just drown ourselves – there’s no shortage of water!”
“And we all need a break,” Banham added.
Also by Linda Regan from Crème de la Crime:
Behind You!
Passion Killers
Praise for Linda Regan’s previous sizzlers from Crème de la Crime:
What a great writer Linda Regan is. (She) gets the atmosphere spot on – no doubt due to her own theatrical experience. ... a nailbiting mystery. I loved it. Don’t miss it.
– Richard Briers CBE
Linda Regan certainly knows her stuff about the clashes of theatrical egos which can so easily lead to murder.
– Simon Brett
Linda Regan brings her characters to life and cunningly uses her personal experience to strip away the glamour and reveal the other side of show-business.
– Jimmy Perry OBE - creator of Dads’ Army and Hi-de-Hi
... the narrative (is) both readable and believable.... For a first novel it is extremely well written.
– Jim Kennedy, Encore magazine
... noticeably darker than that of its predecessor, Behind You! ... a writer well worth keeping an eye on.
– Martin Edwards, Tangled Web
There are surprizes in store even at the last minute. A well written story with a lively collection of characters.
– Angela Youngman, Monsters and Critics
One of the best upcoming writers...
– Peter Guttridge, the Observer
Crème de la Crime... so far have not put a foot wrong.
– Reviewing the Evidence
About the author:
Linda Regan is a successful actress. She is married to the actor Brian Murphy, and they live in Kent with their dog Mildred.
www.lindareganonline.co.uk
There are many people without who this book really would not have come together. I cannot thank them enough for their input and expertise, and I would like to acknowledge here their generosity in giving their time and knowledge:
My friend and editor Lynne Patrick, whose expertise on crime writing and love of chocolate had made my life much happier – not to mention the loan of her daughter’s teddy bear!
DC Paul Steed for keeping me on the right side of the law, and putting up with my endless questions, and righting me when I venture into criminal mistakes.
The charming PC Cindy Dobberson, for generously giving her time and helpful advice, and for her knowledge of South London policing – not forgetting the excellent coffee.
Robbie Gentry for his fire expertise. (This time I made the coffee!)
The support from all my chums at the University of Portsmouth. Thank you for the pep talks, the train timetables, and especially for handwriting expertise from Kate Strzelczyk.
And as ever, to my wonderful husband – for everything.
I was inspired to write this book because my late father, Peter Regan, so loved Marilyn Monroe. Sadly he never made it to see me play her in the story of her life.
This book is dedicated to him
It is also dedicated to my own favourite sex symbol – my wonderful husband Brian Murphy.
www.accentpress.co.uk
(First published ublished in Great Britain by Crème de la Crime 2009)
Copyright © Linda Regan 2017
The right of Linda Regan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
