Murder Of Angels - a crime thriller (Detective Inspector Declan Walsh Book 2)

by Jack Gatland

  16

  Mothers and Fathers

  Declan sat in his Audi as he read through his notebook. He’d thought that the last case that the Last Chance Saloon had investigated was complicated, but this was getting crazy. The day was almost over, and he still needed to speak to Janelle Delcourt and then return to Tottenham to have it out with Derek Salmon, while Anjli and Billy were trying to lock down the elusive Father Lawson.

  Looking down at his phone, Declan read the email report that was currently displaying on it for a third time. DC Davey had picked up a crime report from the previous night and passed it onto Declan, unsure if it was relevant in any way; a Birmingham man partying in Islington had been found, passed out on the floor with the word CHITS cut into his chest and covered in an extensive amount of his own blood. He didn’t want to press charges and claimed that he didn’t know the men that attacked him, but there were two things unsaid that had screamed out when Billy found it.

  The first was that the man, Ricky Johnston, was a known associate of George and Macca Byrne. The second was that the estate they found him in was an area known to be controlled by the Seven Sisters, and more importantly Moses Delcourt himself.

  Declan wondered if he’d be able to use this somehow. He still didn’t know how he was going to speak to Janelle; the Sisters were known not to speak to police. And he currently didn’t have any backup.

  Deciding that if he didn’t go now he never would, Declan eventually climbed out of the Audi, locking it behind him as he stared across the road at the row of shops that faced him; an international supermarket, a cab company and a Brazilian café stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the housing estate the other side of the road that was currently behind Declan. A minute or two’s walk south was Seven Sisters overground station, and a hundred yards north was the Seven Sisters Underground stop. If you were a crime family called ‘Seven Sisters’, you couldn’t find a place that was better suited for your branding.

  If crime families had branding, that was.

  Above the shops were houses, and beside those was a Jehovah’s Witness church. If passing though, you’d think that it looked no different to any other London High Road.

  But Declan knew better. Seven Sisters was part of his old patch, and although he’d never locked horns with Moses or his mother in the years he had worked here, he was still very much aware of the ins and outs of the gang, including where their base was.

  Walking into the Brazilian café, Declan walked past the tables and chairs, moving through the evening trade, feeling their eyes locking onto him as he walked up to the counter at the back, the smell of what seemed to be some kind of black bean stew hanging heavy in the room. A Brazilian man, wearing a simple white shirt and black trousers, looked up at him.

  ‘Good evening to you, mon! Table for one?’ he asked, his accent seeming to bounce from Brazilian to Jamaican in the process. Declan pulled out his warrant card, showing it briefly before placing it away.

  ‘Sure. But out the back,’ he nodded to a door at the back of the café. ‘A little more private.’

  ‘That’s just the apartments upstairs,’ the man replied genially. ‘We don’t have tables back there.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Declan leaned in.

  ‘Then instead, why don’t you tell Janelle Delcourt that Detective Inspector Declan Walsh is here, and has some questions about Derek Salmon,’ he whispered. ‘And, tell her that if she doesn’t speak with me in the next five minutes, I’ll be arresting her son for murder.’

  The man at the counter paused before speaking softly in return, his accent disappearing completely.

  ‘You sure that’s the message you want passed?’

  ‘Not really, but I don’t really have a choice right now,’ Declan forced a smile. ‘I’m alone and I’m looking for new friends.’

  ‘That ain’t the way to make friends.’

  ‘I’m a trendsetter.’

  The man considered this and then, motioning for Declan to stay right where he was, he walked through the back door to the café, into the area that he had claimed had nothing of importance. Declan knew that the correct thing to do was to wait until a reply came down, to see if Mama Delcourt would speak with him, but he was in a hurry. And to be honest, he always found that things moved quicker when the interviewee was on the back foot. Moving quickly, he grabbed the door before it closed and, giving the man a second to continue up the stairs, unaware of the unlocked door below, Declan quietly made his way through it.

  It was a well-known ‘secret’ amongst the people of Tottenham and Seven Sisters that the houses above these shops had been smashed through, refurbished and turned into one enormous house; a stately home in the middle of Tottenham, and accessible by several entrances. Two stories high and seven shops wide, there was enough space here for several families’ living space and multiple offices, but although the Seven Sisters were seven individuals, only one family lived here.

  The Delcourts.

  The man in the white shirt had knocked on a door above Declan; the sound was metallic, and Declan knew from the tone that the door was likely an armoured one which made sense. If a drug dealer could armour their door, the Crown Prince of North London and his mum would do the same. Waiting out of sight, he listened.

  ‘What?’ a muffled voice spoke from the other side.

  ‘There’s a police officer in the café,’ the man’s voice now. ‘Says he wants to speak to Mama Delcourt, or he’s arresting Moses.’

  Laughter from the other side of the door paused the conversation. Then the voice spoke again.

  ‘Is he new around here?’

  ‘Dunno, man. I never seen him before. Says his name is Detective Inspector Walsh. Wants to talk about Salmon.’

  ‘Probably wants a kickback, then.’

  There was a click of a lock and the shunk of a bolt, and Declan knew that this was likely the doorman opening the armoured entrance in order to come down and check things out. There was probably CCTV in the café that could be examined, but that would be grainy, and he probably wanted a proper look at the ‘mad copper’ before they decided on what to do. Knowing that timing was of the essence now Declan started up the stairs quickly, moving swiftly past the surprised man in the white shirt, bringing up his foot and kicking hard at the door as it opened, slamming the door back, and sending the doorman tumbling.

  All of this had happened in the space of a second, and by the time the man in the white shirt was shouting for help, Declan was already through the door and slamming it shut. The doorman was on the floor, dazed, his forehead bleeding from where the metal door had slammed into his face. Declan moved quickly, passing the concussed man, but the doorman was less concussed than Declan had hoped and rose, pulling out a Beretta pistol and aiming it at Declan, pulling the trigger.

  He never finished the action. Declan, seeing this, had allowed his muscle memory to take over. As a member of the Military Police before joining the police, this wasn’t a new experience for him, and he moved almost on autopilot, moving in, grabbing the gun and spinning it around in one swift motion, tearing it from his opponent’s hand and shifting the Beretta’s angle so it was now aimed at the doorman.

  Weighing it in his hand, Declan nodded. At least half a clip full.

  ‘You clean your gun a lot?’ he asked. The doorman, shocked at the speed of what had just happened to him, shook his head.

  ‘Not my gun,’ he said. ‘You’re gonna die for this.’

  ‘Probably, if your gun misfires,’ Declan replied, grabbing the doorman and moving in behind him, leading him along. ‘Now, which room is Janelle Delcourt in?’

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  The voice was calm, assured and young. Declan turned to one door to the left as Moses Delcourt emerged into the hall.

  ‘Detective Inspector Declan Walsh, City of London Police,’ Declan said. ‘I’d show you my warrant card, but I’m a little busy.’

  ‘I can see.�
� Moses was almost amused. ‘I heard of you, Walsh. You worked this patch, yeah?’

  ‘Among others.’

  ‘Why the aggro then?’ Moses pointed at the gun. Declan shrugged.

  ‘Your mum’s been ignoring our calls and I’m a little impatient,’ he said. ‘And as for this? The nice man here was saying it’s not his after aiming it in my face, so I removed it from him and was going to return it to its rightful owner. You don’t know who that might be, do you Mister Delcourt?’

  ‘Nah man,’ Moses replied, probably knowing that whoever claimed that gun also claimed the crimes connected with it. ‘Let Kayas go though, yeah? He’s done nothing.’

  ‘Give me free passage and I will.’

  There was a long moment of silence.

  ‘Mum’s busy right now,’ Moses said.

  ‘So I’ll wait.’ Declan heard a noise from behind him, so backed Kayas the doorman towards a window where he could see all sides of the hall.

  ‘Talk to me instead,’ Moses suggested. Declan nodded.

  ‘You sure you want me to do that?’ he asked. ‘I’m investigating the murder of Angela Martin, and currently, all the signs are leading to you being the killer.’

  This was not the statement that Moses Delcourt had been expecting.

  ‘You think I did it?’ He asked, his eyes widening in genuine surprise.

  ‘No, but as I said, the signs lead to you.’ Declan replied. ‘Someone wants the police to take you down. Even to where the person who confessed to it is saying that you and your mum made him do so.’

  Taking a risk, Declan pushed Kayas to the side. Spinning the gun so that the hilt was now facing Moses, Declan offered it to him.

  ‘I needed to gain your attention,’ he said. ‘And at the moment, I have a case that’s way beyond just you and Angela, and is currently about to kick a gang war off.’

  Moses looked at Declan for a long second before taking the gun from him.

  ‘I’ve got my own theories on who killed her,’ he said.

  ‘Which one?’ Declan replied.

  ‘Which what?’

  ‘Which body,’ Declan continued. ‘You see, we have two identical bodies and one woman, with two identities that connect to both you and Macca Byrne.’

  The door to the side crashed open and two burley young men in hoodies ran in. Moses however waved them back.

  ‘I don’t talk to police,’ he said. Declan nodded.

  ‘Then talk to me as someone who just wants to get this solved,’ he said. ‘Because currently I’m seeing too many pieces on this chessboard.’

  Moses thought for a moment. The room was silent, with the men in hoodies glaring at Declan.

  After a few long seconds of this Declan went to speak again, but the slightest hint of movement from behind alerted him and he spun around to face Kayas, swinging a baseball bat at his head, connecting hard.

  As he fell to the floor, losing consciousness, Declan realised that this had been a terrible idea…

  As Anjli and Billy arrived outside of Our Lady of the Sea, it started to rain. Pulling up her coat collar, Anjli hammered on the door to the church.

  ‘The sign said it’s open until ten,’ Billy, ignoring the rain, said as he showed a noticeboard beside the corpse gate.

  ‘Well, they obviously forgot about that today,’ Anjli replied, looking at her phone. ‘Bloody place doesn’t have a phone number online, either.’

  Billy glanced at the web page on Anjli’s phone, seeing a photo of Father Lawson.

  ‘I can see why the nuns all liked him,’ he whistled. ‘He’s a looker.’

  Anjli turned to Billy in mild disgust. ‘Put it back in your pants.’

  ‘Hey, I’m just saying that if he was twenty years younger I’d be confessing—’ he stopped as the door unlocked and opened to reveal a man in the doorway. Moving into the light, Anjli and Billy saw that it was Father Lawson.

  ‘Can I help?’ he asked. ‘It’s quite late, but you sounded insistent.’

  Anjli showed her warrant card.

  ‘I’m DS Kapoor, this is DC Fitzwarren,’ she started. ‘We need to speak to you about a birth.’

  ‘Christenings can be discussed—’ Father Lawson started, but stopped himself. ‘This isn’t a normal call, is it?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You’d better come on in, then.’

  Entering the nave, Anjli and Billy followed Father Lawson back to the Altar. He sat on a pew at the front, indicating for the two detectives to join him. ‘So what can I do for you?’

  ‘Angela Martin,’ Anjli pulled out her notebook, opening it. ‘You may have seen on the news that we found her this week.’

  ‘Yes, terrible thing,’ Father Lawson nodded. ‘Although I don’t see why I’m talking to you about that.’

  ‘She was born at Saint Etheldreda’s Mission House,’ Billy chimed in. ‘At the time that you were running it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t really say I ran it,’ Father Lawson said. ‘The nuns did that. I was connected in an advisory manner.’

  ‘What kind of advisory manner?’ Anjli looked up.

  ‘In the manner given to a priest when the Catholic Church wanted a man involved.’ Father Lawson raised his hand apologetically. ‘I don’t make the rules. Poor child. How terrible.’

  ‘We believe that on the night she was born, there were quite a few babies in the Mission,’ Billy added. ‘We were hoping you could explain this a little more to us.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying,’ Father Lawson’s expression had hardened slightly. This was definitely a conversation that he didn’t seem to want to have.

  ‘We’re saying that on the night that Angela Martin was born to Daniel and Cheryl Martin, we believe that there were three other babies born the same time. One was to Craig and Emma Chapman, down that day from Birmingham, but the other two, twins we believe, were to a nun.’ Anjli looked at Father Lawson as she spoke, watching his expression. ‘A nun who apparently claimed that you were the father.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Father Lawson nodded slowly, his expression unchanged by this revelation. ‘Now I understand. Sister Nadine. She had… well, to be brutally honest, she had an infatuation with me. Claimed that I came to her in the night and seduced her, when I was in Africa on missionary work. No way I could have done the deed, so to speak.’

  ‘What did the nuns say about this?’ Anjli carried on watching Father Lawson’s expression intently. The man was a hell of a poker player; he gave nothing away as he spoke.

  ‘Well, most of the nuns assumed that Sister Nadine had simply been a naughty girl, and was trying to find a way out. But some nuns, the more, well, passionate believers among us, were quite excited about this. Claimed a virgin birth.’

  ‘And you didn’t? Claim this as such? I mean, surely to have an Angel of the Lord come down looking just like you would give you some kudos back in Rome.’

  Father Lawson brought his hands together, as if praying. ‘Let’s just say that I’m not as cloistered as the nuns,’ he said. ‘I understand lust, as I’ve seen it. Sister Nadine had lust. And whoever the poor man was that she seduced, she convinced herself that it was, well, me.’

  ‘So she fantasised about you?’ Anjli stared at Father Lawson’s hands in prayer as if trying to gain some meaning from them. Father Lawson shrugged.

  ‘I was away for close to four months around the time,’ he said. ‘Back and forth from Africa, and attending my other parishes. Who else could it have been?’

  ‘And were you there at the birth?’ Anjli asked. Father Lawson shook his head.

  ‘No, again I was on secondment to a church in Beachampton, which is near Milton Keynes,’ he said. ‘I was performing a sermon the same moment, if I recall correctly. I know this because this isn’t the first time that I’ve had someone say I was in two places at the same time. I have–that is, I had a twin brother.’

  Billy looked down at his notes. ‘We found records that stated you were in Seminary school with a brother, but
it didn’t state you were that closely related,’ he said. ‘Were you identical?’

  Father Lawson nodded. ‘Oh, very much,’ he replied. ‘We utilised it terribly as children growing up, constantly getting each other into terrible trouble. And then we both saw the light in our teenage years. We both wanted to be priests, but Stephen, poor Stephen, had his own inner demons. At the end, we went our separate ways. But I know that he pretended to be a priest, pretended to be me frequently. I suppose that often it was harmless, and Stephen was trying to use the lessons they had taught him in Seminary School, and I felt sorry for him. I told no one, nor mentioned this to the Bishop.’

  He smiled.

  ‘To be honest, he was always the better priest out of the two of us.’

  ‘So could he have been the one who fathered Sister Nadine’s children?’ Anjli suggested. Father Lawson’s expression changed; as if he was about to say something but then decided to alter tack.

  ‘I’ve heard that suggested by people,’ he replied. ‘That or God really visited Sister Nadine that night, but I’m afraid that although I’m a believer, I’m not that much of a believer.’

  ‘A DNA test would answer it,’ Billy said to Anjli.

  ‘That would be difficult,’ Father Lawson sighed. ‘My brother disappeared after being released after a lengthy spell in prison, and we found his clothing and a goodbye note on a beach in Kent. A body was never found, and we never heard from him after that.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Anjli replied, noting this down in her notebook. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Around six months ago,’ Father Lawson replied. ‘We never spoke much after his arrest, but if you do find anything more about what happened to him, please let me know.’ Father Lawson scratched at his neck, under his dog collar.

  ‘I’d so like to reconnect with him again.’

  ‘We understand that you also have a church in Birmingham,’ Billy stated from his notes.

  ‘Yes,’ Father Lawson affirmed. ‘The joys of more faithful than followers require priests to perform double duty these days, I’m afraid.’