The DCI Isaac Cook Thriller Series: Books 4 - 6: Murder (The DCI Isaac Cook Thrillers Series Boxset)

by Phillip Strang

  Goddard, as expected, was full of praise, looking for an early wrap-up on the murder case. Wendy, more circumspect, was anxious for a clear direction.

  ‘According to Pinto, the dead man’s name was Dave.’

  ‘Did he give you a surname?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘He said he didn’t know.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘Not sure. The man is frightened to tell us more.’

  ‘Bridget has been checking prison records, but a spider’s web tattoo is nothing special. I don’t think Dave will help her much,’ Wendy said.

  ‘Just keep trying.’

  ***

  Thirty minutes passed before the interview recommenced. Isaac could see that Vince Pinto was calmer.

  ‘My client wishes to make a statement,’ Katrina Hatcher said.

  ‘Dave and I became involved with a crime syndicate. I only knew him for six months, but we were friends. He came from Liverpool; that’s all I ever knew, and I never knew his real name. He sometimes called himself Dave Simmonds, other times it was Doug Fairweather. He did not talk about himself, and I had no idea if he had been married or had children.

  ‘We’d just done a run, decided to cream some off the top for ourselves. There was plenty, and we thought no one would notice. However, we didn’t count on a snotty-nosed accountant they employed. They picked us up as we were enjoying a quiet drink at a pub. Although with Dave it was never quiet.’

  ‘Why do you say it was never quiet?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Dave was not a drinker, no more than a couple of pints, but he was sociable and loud.’

  ‘The pub?’

  ‘It varied, but most times it was the Pride of Paddington, down on Craven Road.’

  ‘I know it,’ Larry said.

  ‘You have no criminal record. Why were you involved with a crime syndicate?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough. I’m a gambler, not very good either. It’s an addiction. I’ve been to Gamblers’ Anonymous, but it makes no difference.’

  ‘What type of gambling?’ Larry asked.

  ‘Horses, greyhounds, cards, poker machines. Most of the time it’s under control, but occasionally…’

  ‘A lot of money?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘More than I could hope to cover.’

  ‘Were you set up?’

  ‘Probably. That’s how they get people to work for them.’

  ‘Do they have a name?’

  ‘Those in charge remain hidden. The only people I ever saw were the underlings. Whoever is behind this is very secretive, possibly very powerful and influential.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’m down nearly one hundred thousand pounds and no way to cover my debt.’

  ‘Where was this?’

  ‘Down near Camden, a seedy gambling joint. I was playing poker and badly. Anyway, there I am, and there’s no way I’m leaving, at least walking.’

  ‘They would have killed you?’

  ‘A dead man can’t be bled for money, but they would have smashed my knees.’

  ‘You’re still walking,’ Larry said.

  ‘The club sold my debt. I was there for two hours with two heavies breathing over me, threatening to pummel me, roughing me up. I even peed in my trousers; I was that frightened.’

  ‘Why are you telling us this now?’

  ‘I’m dead whatever happens. If I leave here, they’ll know I’ve spoken. At least in prison my death won’t be the same as Dave’s.’

  ‘Did you see him die?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And when he was cut up?’

  ‘I was there, but I didn’t take part. There were two of them who went at him with a chainsaw.’

  ‘Why the dismemberment?’

  ‘A warning to those who disobeyed or cheated on them, and also to anyone who talks to the police.’

  ‘Coming back to the club,’ Isaac said. The lawyer said nothing.

  ‘After two hours, a man comes in. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, or at least I think it was, as he remained partially hidden. He spoke with an educated accent.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘He made me an offer. If I came and worked for the organisation that he represented, my debt would be absolved.’

  ‘You accepted?’

  ‘What could I do? I knew I was not leaving there in one piece if I refused.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘He pushed some documents across the table, and I signed the last page, initialled the others.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Are you kidding? I just signed, that’s all.’

  ‘After that were you free to go?’

  ‘They kept a watch on me. There’ll be someone outside this station.’

  ‘Do you have a name for the man in the suit?’

  ‘He kept his face hidden, and no, he did not give a name.’

  ‘Would you recognise him again if you saw him?’

  ‘The voice maybe.’

  ‘Describe him?’

  ‘Average height, well dressed, spoke with an educated accent, and his nails were manicured. That’s all I can tell you.’

  ‘Do you know his position in the crime syndicate?’

  ‘No. I assume he was someone paid to deal with people like me. As I told you, the big men remain hidden behind a veil of invisibility. Catch them, and you’ve caught some big fish, but they’ll be able to wriggle out of it.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘That’s what the suit said, and he wasn’t a man to mince words.’

  ‘What kind of criminal activity are we talking about here?’

  ‘Drugs, more drugs than you can imagine.’

  ‘Dave was a gambler?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘He was just a man down on his luck. He said he’d been in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, but I didn’t believe him.’

  ‘That he’d been in prison?’

  ‘No, I believed that, but a crime he didn’t commit. If you let out all the prisoners in jail that said that, you wouldn’t have anyone left inside. He could be a violent bastard sometimes.’

  ‘You saw this violence?’

  ‘Once. We were drinking, minding our own business, when a drunk comes over and tries to pick a fight with Dave.’

  ‘Did Dave provoke him?’

  ‘No, he minded his own business. Anyway, the drunk is getting difficult; Dave’s ignoring him. The drunk grabs Dave by the collar, aiming to pull him around. Dave loses his temper and smashes the guy in the face. Ten minutes later, Dave’s as calm as a leaf, drinking a pint.’

  It was six in the evening. Isaac did not intend to postpone the interview until the next day, but everyone was in need of food. Pinto was talking, and there were still more questions to ask. Isaac called a halt to the interview and ordered food for everyone: the standard diet for a long night in the police station, pizza.

  Once everyone was fed, Isaac was back into his questioning. He could see that Pinto was falling asleep, the result of a good feed and a long day. Not that Isaac intended to ease off. This was his arena, somewhere he had succeeded many times in cracking the toughest nut. And from what he could see, Pinto was a very tough nut.

  Vicenzo Pinto had no criminal record, apart from a succession of speeding fines and parking tickets, but no history of violence, and certainly nothing to suggest that he was any more than a minor functionary in the drug syndicate. The most the man had achieved in life was to work in a burger bar, and as for educational qualifications, there were none.

  If the crime syndicate was as well organised as Pinto had said, then it needed smart people, and there was the man who had thrust the papers in front of Pinto to sign. If he was only another employee, then who was in charge? Who was Mr Big?

  Isaac had grown weary of arresting the minor players, having them charged and convicted, only to know that the main culprit remained free and at large. In a previous case two of the murders had been government sanctioned, y
et an abused woman resided in prison for the killing of another. She had had a reason to hate the man, not that it abrogated her from the crime, but there had been two other murders and those responsible for the assassinations had no doubt received a pat on the back for a job well done.

  ‘Let me come back to the syndicate,’ Isaac said. ‘You’ve told us that they are involved with drugs.’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘What type of drugs?’

  ‘Heroin, and lots of it. Sometimes cocaine.’

  ‘What was your function in the syndicate?’

  ‘It varied, but most times I was transporting it from one place to the next.’

  ‘In the UK?’

  ‘Mainly, but sometimes in France.’

  ‘Let us start with France. We are aware that you made three trips there in the last six months.’

  ‘If I tell you, they’ll kill me.’

  ‘And if you don’t, they will anyway. Your only hope is to place your trust in us.’

  Katrina Hatcher leant over towards her client. ‘The DCI is right.’

  ‘I know that,’ Pinto said.

  ‘If you work with us, we’ll ensure that your prison sentence will be lenient.’

  ‘You want me to grass?’

  ‘For a man with no criminal record, you’ve certainly picked up the lingo.’

  ‘That’s Dave. He had a colourful turn of phrase. No doubt from all the time he spent in prison.’

  ‘How long was that?’

  ‘He said eight years, but I don’t know if it was true. He said he was going to get the bastard who put him there.’

  ‘What did he mean? The man who stitched him up, the police officer who arrested him, or the judge who put him in jail?’

  ‘After a few pints, he would talk, but it was never very much. I’ve no idea, and that’s the honest truth.’

  ‘Let’s return to France,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I would go there, pick up a truck and bring it back.’

  ‘And the trucks were loaded with drugs?’

  ‘Well hidden.’

  ‘Customs checks on entering England?’

  ‘They were only interested in case we’d picked up some Afghans in Calais. Anyway, if they had stripped the vehicles down, they would have been hard pushed to find anything.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I saw how they did it once, a welded compartment inside the transmission housing. Also, they had welded on extra parts that looked like the chassis. It was dead easy.’

  ‘How much would you carry?’

  ‘At least fifty kilos of heroin, as well as cocaine,’ Pinto said.

  ‘That’s five million pounds on the street,’ Larry, who had left the questioning since they had resumed to Isaac, said.

  ‘Each trip had that much heroin?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘I only saw what they took out that one time.’

  ‘If you made three trips, that’s close to fifteen million pounds.’

  ‘Maybe it is, but I was only concerned about the money I owed them and my life. I knew they were vicious.’

  ‘How? Apart from threatening you when you owed money due to your poker playing, you’ve not mentioned any other violence.’

  ‘They were always threatening.’

  ‘But you and Dave still decided to cheat them?’

  ‘We were desperate. Dave had driven a truck over from France. He phoned me up from Dover, let me know that one of their hiding places was visible, and would I be interested in going halves with him.’

  ‘You agreed?’

  ‘I needed the money. I wanted to go back to what I was doing before.’

  ‘Flipping burgers?’ Larry said.

  ‘With the drugs we took, there was enough to buy my own business, even go to Italy; get away from those bastards.’

  Isaac looked up at the clock; it was 8.30 p.m. The questioning had been going for eight hours. All the participants were exhausted, but he was determined to continue. Pinto appeared not to be guilty of murder and had been compromised due to his gambling debts. However, Dave seemed to have been someone in need of a job and money. If the eight years in prison was correct, it might be possible to trace him.

  ‘Did you ever take a photo of Dave?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘On my phone.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Outside. One of your officers took it before I was slammed up in here.’

  Isaac halted the interview, and he and Larry went to find the phone. Pinto and his lawyer waited in the interview room. A cup of tea was given to both of them.

  The two police officers retrieved the phone and returned to the interview room. ‘Show us,’ Isaac said.

  Pinto scrolled through his photos. ‘That’s him.’

  Larry forwarded the image to Bridget who was still in the office with Wendy.

  ‘Interview concluded at 8.50 p.m. We will resume tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. prompt,’ Isaac said.

  Pinto was returned to his cell. Katrina Hatcher left the building ten minutes later, but not before speaking to Isaac. ‘My client is innocent of murder,’ she said.

  ‘He’s admitted to drug smuggling, disposing of a body.’

  ‘You cannot charge him with murder.’

  ‘Let’s see,’ Isaac said.

  Chapter 6

  Isaac and Larry walked up the two flights of stairs to the Homicide office. It was late. Isaac remembered that he had arranged to meet with Jess, an attempt to rekindle their romance. He phoned her. ‘Forget it,’ the only two words she said. He knew by the way it was said that she was referring to the romance, not the fact that he was standing her up again. It seemed to him that a normal life with the woman he wanted was not possible.

  ‘Bad day, sir?’ Wendy asked. She had seen the look on her DCI’s face as he walked in the door.

  ‘Personal issues,’ Isaac’s reply.

  ‘You need to find someone else. It’s not going to work out, you know that.’

  ‘I suppose I do, but…’

  ‘If she can’t put up with the hours you work, there’s no more to be said. It’s best to call it quits and for her to get on with her life; you to get on with yours.’

  Isaac was thankful for his sergeant’s concern, but now there was a more pressing issue. Who was Dave?

  ‘We have a name, the time he spent in prison, a tattoo and a photo,’ Isaac said to the team.

  ‘I’ve already instigated a database search on the picture. I’m sure we’ll have a result within a couple of hours,’ Bridget said.

  ‘Why don’t you go home, sir?’ Wendy said. ‘We can always phone you.’

  The idea appealed to Isaac, but his mood was not conducive to relaxing after another bust up with Jess, his on-again, off-again girlfriend. He still wanted her, but it had happened yet again: the chance of a romantic interlude and he had chosen a murder investigation. It was inevitable in that it would always be the same as long as he stayed with the police force. Maybe when he made detective superintendent he could back off a little, but that seemed to be a few more years in the future, and Jess O’Neill, broody and wanting a child, would be gone by then.

  Isaac knew he would not be going home. He looked at the paperwork in front of him, he spoke to Larry, he looked over the shoulders of Bridget and Wendy, but mostly he sat quietly, pensively waiting for a result: the result that would drive the case forward.

  If the crime syndicate was as vicious as they appeared to be, then who were they, and why hadn’t he heard of them before?

  ‘Larry,’ Isaac said as he went over and sat at the desk next to his, ‘we need to find out about large shipments of drugs into this country. Who’s the best person to talk to?’

  ‘We could get someone from Serious and Organised Crimes Command.’

  ‘Agreed. What about your gang leader?’

  ‘He’ll know about the distribution of the drugs on the street, but he’s not likely to be able to tell us much else. He’s only small fry, a local hustler.’

&nbs
p; ‘Talk to him anyway. He’ll have his ear to the ground.’

  ‘He won’t talk to me too openly, you know that.’

  ‘He will if he believes the syndicate is threatening him.’

  ‘Are they?’

  ‘Who knows. The body was meant to be discovered.’

  ‘To frighten others involved in the crime syndicate?’

  ‘I’ll meet up with Rasta Joe again,’ Larry said. ‘You can’t believe the earbashing I received the last time at home after I came in smelling of beer, and he likes to drink.’

  ‘At least she’s there for you,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I’ve found him,’ an excited voice shouted from the other side of the room.

  Both Isaac and Larry moved over to Bridget’s desk. The woman had a broad smile on her face. ‘Wandsworth Prison.’

  ‘Do you have a name?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Dougal Stewart.’

  ‘What else can you tell us?’

  ‘He served nine years for armed robbery. A man was killed, although Stewart was not responsible. They released him six months ago.’

  ‘Great work,’ Isaac said.

  Thirty minutes later, close to midnight, the four police officers left the station.

  Isaac would phone his DCS as he drove home.

  ***

  ‘We have a name for your friend Dave,’ Isaac said after the interview with Pinto had reconvened at 8 a.m. Katrina Hatcher was sitting alongside her client.

  ‘I only knew him as Dave,’ Pinto replied. The man looked as though he had had a restless night.

  ‘Dougal Stewart spent nine years in Wandsworth Prison.’

  ‘Was that his name?’ the lawyer asked.

  ‘We have prison records to confirm that Dave and Dougal Stewart were one and the same person.’

  ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard Dougal,’ Pinto said.

  ‘You stated that you had both been cheating,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I told you that before.’

  ‘Did you not realise that they would have records of what was being transported?’