In Vino Veritas

by Peter Turnbull

  ‘Sounds like something we need to do,’ Vicary replied, ‘but tell me … you’ve worked for the man you know as McLaverty for ten years but you don’t know where he lives or where his business premises are?’

  ‘I don’t. Other gofers might. I can let you have a few names.’ Ritchie scratched his ribs again vigorously.

  ‘So how does he contact you?’ Vicary asked.

  ‘By phone,’ Ritchie explained. ‘I have to wait in at home until midday each day, every day … and I mean every day. If there’s a job for me McLaverty will phone me but he’s cagey, he always uses a public telephone and always a different phone. After the call I used to press 1471 to get the caller’s number. I am called from a different number each time. Sometimes there’s background noise … a road with a lot of traffic, a pub, a railway station. After a while I stopped phoning 1471. There was no point. If I am not phoned by midday the rest of the day is mine … or was mine – that was the arrangement. I’m not working for him no more. My money arrived each week – hard cash in the post. That’s how McLaverty works … or whatever his name is now.’

  ‘Woodhuyse,’ Vicary said. ‘No reason why you shouldn’t be told that, but it’s not spelled how you think it’s spelled.’ He paused. ‘So, tell us, did you see Zolton shoot anyone else?’

  ‘Couple of times.’ Ritchie once again scratched his ribcage. ‘When McLaverty contracted Zolton Lis to off a geezer he always wanted a witness so he’d send a gofer, and sometimes I was the gofer who was sent. I don’t know how he brought the mark to his lock-up and I don’t know where he put the bodies.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Vicary raised his hand. ‘We know all that.’

  ‘But I was there at three other “events” after I saw the girl killed.’

  ‘You’re going to be more useful than we thought.’ Escritt smiled. ‘Thanks, Larry.’

  ‘Do I get to choose my new name?’ Ritchie asked.

  ‘Up to a point,’ Vicary explained. ‘You’ll be given a list of names to choose from … but yes, this has been good. Very good indeed.’

  ‘It would explain the pig mask.’ Vicary surveyed his team as they sat alert and listening in front of his desk. ‘You think but you’re not certain, Penny?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I think Mr Keynes said his brother’s name was Zolton but I am not certain. It registered because it was an unusual name but I didn’t take a note of it because at the time the name of Victoria Keynes’s paternal uncle did not seem relevant.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Vicary murmured. ‘But as I said, it would explain the pig’s face mask – he didn’t want his niece to know that it was he who was going to shoot her … that look in her eyes realizing she had been betrayed would have stayed with him; even an ice-cold killing machine like Zolton Lis must have a soul deep down inside, and it explains why she, of all his countless victims, was not cut up and her body parts thrown in the river. She was family, so she stayed whole.’

  ‘Quite some coincidence though, sir,’ Brunnie commented.

  ‘Yes, yes it is, but coincidences happen.’ Vicary addressed Brunnie. ‘As witness, Olivia Jessop, the lady who survived the sinking of the Titanic and then a few years later survived the sinking of the Britannic. Just ponder that for a moment: two sister ships both sank because they struck free-floating objects, an iceberg and a sea mine respectively. Olivia Jessop was on both when they sank and survived both sinkings. Also as witness, the man who was visiting Hiroshima and who survived the bomb and then returned home to Nagasaki and survived the second bomb. He lived to enjoy longevity. Both were lucky or unlucky, depending on which way you look at it, but the point is that coincidence does happen. And just as a second can be a very long time in certain circumstances, then in certain circumstances the world can be a very small place indeed. So it seems that Victoria Keynes was going to report her father for some misdeeds which are only hinted at, her father turned to his brother … and the brother, Victoria’s uncle, unknown to Victoria, was a hitman contracted now and again to do some rubbing out for McLaverty, whom she knew as Woodhuyse, her husband. It is not impossible. So Penny and Tom, stay together. Visit Mrs Keynes and confirm if you can that her brother-in-law is called Zolton and that he lives in Pinner. Then follow the link to the other girl who was murdered at the same time. What was her name?’

  ‘Short,’ Penny Yewdall replied. ‘Can’t remember her Christian name, sir, but I remember her surname because of the irony. Short, yet she was about six feet tall.’

  ‘All right … Frankie and Victor …’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Hold yourselves in readiness for the arrest of Elliot Woodhuyse, aka Leonard McLaverty and his hitman, Zolton Lis,’ Vicary said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Swannell replied.

  ‘Meanwhile …’ Vicary took out a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and smiled as he did so, ‘… we have just received notification of a murder you may all be interested in. The body of a large and powerfully built Afro-Caribbean man who appears to be in his mid-thirties and is distinguished by diamond studs in his teeth has been found at the edge of Romney Marsh. Shot twice in the head.’

  Tom Ainsclough gasped. ‘The geezer who sent me for a pint … him?’

  ‘That’s what I thought, Tom.’ Vicary nodded. ‘There’ll be other bodies near where he was found – one gang getting rid of the opposition, I should not be surprised. We’ll visit that flat in Notting Hill when we can, but that is one case to be closed and another opened.’ Vicary paused. ‘All right, so we all know what we’re doing?’

  Gillian Keynes stepped back from the threshold of her house. ‘Won’t you come in?’

  ‘No … no.’ Penny Yewdall smiled. ‘We’ve just called to tell you that we have made a little progress but are still a long way from an arrest. We thought we’d reassure you and your husband that we have been busy and the file is not gathering dust.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very kind of you.’ Gillian Keynes smiled broadly. ‘I will tell my husband when he returns – he’s visiting his brother.’

  ‘Oh … yes, that is the gentleman with the strange name.’ Penny Yewdall also smiled a relaxed smile. ‘Zoldan?’

  ‘Zolton.’ Gillian Keynes corrected Penny Yewdall, ‘Zolton with a “t” for tango. It tends to sound strange but it’s a common Polish name and I have got quite used to it now.’

  ‘Zolton,’ Penny Yewdall repeated.

  ‘Yes, he lives in Pinner. I never really know what he does; he seems a Mr Ten Per Cent, as though he has fingers in many pies. I don’t even think my husband fully knows what he does for a living, but that is typical of the Lis family, I have found – they can be very private individuals.’ Gillian Keynes glanced at the ground. ‘A bit secretive. In fact, they can be very secret-ive. My husband even refused to tell me why he had resigned from his job. He wouldn’t even become a supply teacher going from school to school standing in for teachers who are unwell. Supply teaching pays well but he wouldn’t do it. So I have brought home the bacon over the years and he has kept up the house, that’s been the way of it … but I will certainly let him know that you called and that we have not been forgotten.’

  ‘While we are here,’ Yewdall said, ‘can you tell us if you ever knew a girl called Audrey Short? She possibly had some link with Victoria, your daughter.’

  ‘Audrey?’ Gillian Keynes nodded her head. ‘They were good friends from Girl Guides. Audrey would call on Victoria on Guide night and they would walk to the Guide hut together in their uniforms. Victoria so short, and Audrey so tall, but they were very good friends. Why, is there some connection with Audrey?’ Mrs Keynes asked with a worried tone in her voice.

  ‘Possibly.’ Penny Yewdall turned to go. ‘But nothing definite.’

  ‘I see … Well.’ Mrs Keynes began to close her door, looking concerned as she did so. ‘I will tell my husband you called. Thank you again for visiting.’

  ‘She was indeed a friend of Victoria Keynes.’ Mrs Short was a grey-haired lady who would, thought Yewdall, probably
consider herself to be overweight, but she had also reached that age in life when she had stopped caring and stopped being figure conscious. She now chose clothes that were comfortable rather than because they were fashionable. Her home was a modest, three-bedroomed interwar house in Cornwall Road, overlooking Wanstead Park in Croydon. A framed photograph of a young woman in her twenties stood on the mantelpiece. ‘So, there is some news at last?’ she asked. ‘It’s been a long ten years. That’s Audrey …’ Mrs Short pointed to the photograph.

  ‘Well, yes and no.’ Yewdall shifted uncomfortably in the chair in which she sat. Beside her Tom Ainsclough took his notebook from his jacket pocket.

  ‘And what does that mean?’ Mrs Short asked in an inquisitorial tone.

  ‘It means,’ Penny Yewdall explained, ‘that we have definite proof that Victoria Keynes was murdered.’

  ‘Yes, so I read in the newspaper.’ Mrs Short sat back in her chair. ‘You know, I thought that Audrey might also have had some involvement, in the sense of also being a victim. They disappeared at about the same time, within a few days of each other. I felt there must have been a connection.’

  ‘Yes, we think so too.’ Penny Yewdall felt uncomfortable. ‘I am afraid we have not one but two witnesses who claim to have witnessed the murder of a young woman at the same location where we know Victoria Keynes was murdered. That further strengthens the link between the two disappearances. The description is in keeping with the description of her in the missing persons report … long hair, tall, with a distinctive birthmark.’

  ‘Yes, she was very self-conscious about that birthmark when she was a girl but eventually it didn’t bother her. It wasn’t as if it was a raised lesion, it was just a patch of skin which had a fawn colour about it … a bit like a banana …’ Mrs Short’s voice faltered. ‘Oh … oh …’

  ‘Yes?’ Penny Yewdall asked. ‘You’ve remembered something?’

  ‘No, I have realized something … The birthmark was on the inside of her thigh, near the top of her leg. She always wore jeans or long skirts or dresses. The witnesses you spoke of could only have seen it … if it was exposed. What had happened to her that her birthmark was exposed? What state of undress was she in? What have you come to tell me?’ Mrs Short’s head slumped forward.

  The officers remained silent.

  Eventually Mrs Short raised her head. ‘How was she murdered?’

  ‘She was shot in the head,’ Tom Ainsclough advised.

  ‘Shot,’ Mrs Short repeated. ‘So her end was quick?’

  ‘Yes, we can say that,’ Yewdall remarked.

  ‘It can’t be easy for you,’ Mrs Short forced a smile, ‘bringing news like this to people’s door.’

  ‘It isn’t … We do get some training … but it’s never easy,’ Yewdall replied.

  ‘My husband passed away two years ago,’ Mrs Short explained. ‘He pined for Audrey, just pined himself away.’

  ‘Is there anyone I can ask to come and sit with you – a neighbour perhaps?’ Penny Yewdall asked. ‘Or a friend or relative who lives close by?’

  ‘No, I keep myself to myself.’ Mrs Short stared straight ahead of her. ‘I have a sister in Sutton. I’ll phone her then drive over there. I’ll stay with her for a couple of nights.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’ Penny Yewdall spoke softly.

  ‘I’m sure.’ Mrs Short forced another smile.

  ‘Did you know Victoria Keynes well?’ Penny Yewdall asked.

  ‘Not very well and only as a Girl Guide friend of my daughter’s, but once, near the time of their disappearance, Victoria contacted me totally and completely out of the blue. She wanted to make contact with Audrey. I wouldn’t tell her where Audrey was living, of course, but I did say I would contact Audrey and tell her that Victoria was looking to make contact if she … Victoria, would let me have her contact phone number. Victoria provided me with her phone number and I gave it to Audrey just a few minutes later, but I do not know if Audrey contacted Victoria.’

  ‘Where was your daughter living at the time?’ Penny Yewdall asked.

  ‘With her boyfriend. It was a stable relationship, heading towards marriage, but I was still the next of kin so my name was on the missing persons report – not his, a man by the name of Davenport … Tony Davenport. I think Audrey quite liked the idea of becoming Audrey Davenport; it sounded a bit more classy than being Audrey Short.’

  ‘We’ll have to call on him,’ Tom Ainsclough advised.

  ‘I can let you have his address as it was ten years ago … he may have moved on but you’ll be able to find him all right. He’s a police officer,’ Mrs Short forced a smile, ‘with the London Transport Police, keeping our underground safe for us. I’ll just get my address book.’

  ‘Yes … yes, it was a very distressing time.’ Tony Davenport reclined in his leather-bound chair in his house on Somerton Drive in Cricklewood. He was a tall, broadly built man, as befitted a police officer, but off duty he wore faded blue jeans and a T-shirt which showed a faded print of the Golden Gate Bridge; a gift from a friend or a souvenir from a visit he had made to the ‘Sunshine State’. He had warmly welcomed other police officers, pressed huge mugs of tea upon them and provided a generous plate of toasted teacakes, inviting Yewdall and Ainsclough to help themselves. ‘She was just not the sort of person to walk away. She would always let her parents or me know where she was going or where she was. She was like that at all times. She was just that sort of girl. She had a responsible, thoughtful attitude to other people, especially towards her father, whom she described as a “worrier”.’

  ‘She was a friend of Victoria Keynes?’ Yewdall asked. ‘Or so we were lead to believe.’

  ‘Yes, they were friends in the Girl Guide days … early teenage years … they seemed to drift apart and then seemed to rekindle their relationship,’ Davenport explained. ‘That happened just before Audrey disappeared. By just before, I mean the sort of period most conveniently measured in weeks, so about five or six weeks after Victoria made contact she disappeared. I now know that Victoria disappeared at the same time, but I didn’t know that then, otherwise I would have alerted the Metropolitan Police. The simultaneous disappearance of two friends could only be deeply suspicious and would have merited an investigation.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ainsclough nodded in agreement.

  ‘But at the time neither I nor her parents knew anything of Victoria Keynes also disappearing, and there was no reason for the police to link their disappearances because the association between them was not known.’

  ‘Of course.’ Yewdall reached forward and picked up a toasted teacake. She glanced round the room and relaxed as she saw Davenport’s house was just as a sergeant in the London Transport Police’s house should be – all income appropriate, clean and neatly kept. The house, a modest interwar terraced development, was also just the sort of house a man of Davenport’s position would live in.

  ‘I heard that Victoria Keynes’s remains had been found …’ Davenport then asked, ‘Has anything of Audrey been found?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Yewdall replied, ‘and frankly, there won’t be. I … we … can’t tell you too much at this stage.’

  ‘Fully understand.’ Davenport nodded.

  ‘Do you know why Victoria looked up Audrey? Why their friendship was rekindled?’

  ‘Not in any detail, but after she and Victoria went out for a coffee together, Audrey returned looking very confused and wouldn’t talk about what they had discussed. But the two women began to meet up quite frequently and still she wouldn’t talk about it to me. Then she insisted on sleeping in the spare room. She assured me that our relationship was still solid but she said she required “space”. At the same time Victoria had left her husband and was lodging with a friend. Eventually she did say that Victoria had been “remembering things” and that when Victoria had told her that she had also started to remember things. She said Victoria wanted to go to the police but if she did then it would “destroy her mother”. Audrey said that it w
as some issue with Victoria’s father but it had been worse, much worse for Victoria than it had been for her.’

  ‘That,’ Yewdall commented, ‘is very interesting.’

  ‘Audrey told me that Victoria had decided to confront her father about “it”, whatever “it” was. Then she would decide what to do. She said Victoria had decided that her sanity depended upon bringing “it” all out into the open. It was then, about then, that Audrey disappeared, and Victoria too. But, like I said, it was only latterly, these last few days, that I found out Victoria had vanished more or less at the same time as Audrey.’

  It was Wednesday, 16.50 hours.

  EPILOGUE

  Three weeks later, Harry and Kathleen Vicary strolled arm in arm on a path beside a stand of trees on Hampstead Heath with the sweep of London laid out before and beneath them.

  ‘He was right.’ Vicary spoke quietly. ‘It really was like watching the man’s face fall off. We called on Woodhuyse and asked him to come to Scotland Yard with us to answer questions about his wife’s murder, and so he came quite willingly. Me and Frankie Brunnie went over all the old ground and then we told him that we were now quite satisfied that he had no involvement in her murder. He smiled quite smugly really and began to stand up, and then DCI Meadows, who was also there, said, “Just a moment, please.” It seemed to me that DS Escritt had done all the work for the Economic Crime Unit but Meadows pulled rank and made sure he was in at the kill. Anyway, Meadows said, “Just one or two other points, Mr Woodhuyse … or should I call you Mr McLaverty?” I kid you not, it really seemed like the man’s face just slid downwards off his head … There he was, rumbled, in a police station … unable to escape to activate his getaway plan – to use his alternative identity and his cash hidden in numbered accounts. He went white … then he went green with fear.’

  ‘And Zolton Lis?’ Kathleen Vicary’s eye was caught by a squirrel running in an undulating manner across the grass; she then cast an aesthetically appreciative eye upon a young male jogger in his twenties as he ran across their path some distance ahead. ‘What happened to him?’