by Lee Weeks
She was about to head to Kent, to the Paradise Villas headquarters. She watched him lock his car. He looked distracted. She’d been waiting for him to get in touch since the previous evening. He returned to pick up something he’d forgotten. He caught sight of Willis. She walked across to him.
She reached him as he passed the police vans. ‘I couldn’t get hold of you last night.’
‘Yes, sorry, I was dead on my feet.’
Willis was thinking that he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. He hadn’t shaved. He had the same clothes on as the day before.
‘I’m headed back to Kent to talk to Manson, the manager of Paradise Villas, again – I want to take more samples. Are you free to come with me?’
He nodded, a hanky over his nose. ‘Let’s do it.’
Carter drove out of the car park. Willis looked over.
‘You all right, guv?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘You look like shit.’
‘Thanks.’ Carter took a look at himself in the driving mirror and rubbed the stubble on his chin that sounded like sandpaper. I have a cold, that’s all, look in the glove compartment and hand me that electric razor, will you?’
Willis found it and switched it on as she passed it over. ‘Do you want me to drive?’
‘No way.’ He glanced across, grinning. ‘We need to get there today.’
‘You come in late to work, and you still don’t manage to shave?’ Willis frowned.
‘Yeah, let’s leave this conversation, Eb, if you don’t mind. Things on my mind. Besides, that’s rich coming from you – you never make an effort and I meant to tell you to do something about your moustache months ago. Didn’t have the heart.’
She thumped him on his arm.
‘Jeezus, Eb, go easy.’
Willis and Carter had worked together for five years. Ever since she’d joined the MIT, he had been her partner. He had been a DS then, and she a detective constable. Carter was like family to her.
‘Got a lot going on, that’s all.’
He looked at his watch as he handed her the shaver back. ‘Right now I’m supposed to be in Tenerife. I’d be having my first bottle of ice-cold beer of the day.’
‘Why aren’t you?’
He looked at her with a wounded expression.
‘Christ knows, I didn’t want to cancel it, Eb, but this case is important to me. Jeezus! I was looking forward to it.’
‘We can handle this without you.’
‘Yeah, cheers for that.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I know, I know, but, Cabrina doesn’t really mind. She’s gone off with Archie and taken a mate with her instead; it’s still a couple of weeks in Tenerife. She’ll have fun. There’ll be plenty more opportunities to go on holiday.’
Willis looked at her phone. ‘Shall I get the satnav working?’
‘Don’t worry, I know the way,’ Carter said. ‘We used to drive to Margate all the time when I was a kid. We’d all pile in the taxi and off we’d go. If we had time Dad used to take detours on the way back. Swanley was one of them. They had a great fish and chip shop there.’
‘What about Ramsgate, do you know it well?’
‘I know it, yeah. Been there many times, too. It’s a bit more upmarket than Margate. It’s got some great restaurants. There’s an Italian there that I used to rate.’
‘The one Della Butcher’s family own? Della Cipriani?’
He shook his head as he cracked a smile.
‘Christ, Eb, we’ve worked together too long and you must have done some serious digging to find that out.’
‘I suppose I did. I also read the report from the officer on duty where the wake was held. Della Butcher left in your car last night. Who was, or is, she to you?
‘I tried to find out about a family history for her but it says her parents live just outside Milan and then the trail ends. But she’s mentioned in Operation Argos. They gave her maiden name as Vincetti, not Cipriani, and said that her last known address was in Ramsgate. Then I found out there are other family members there. What was she in Operation Argos? Was she a suspect then? Most of the information about her is blacked out.’
‘I know, it’s complicated. She chose to change her name. Probably because she was marrying a Butcher. Maybe she didn’t want the Butchers to ever be able to interfere with her real family.’
‘Again, how do you know all this? Who is she to you?’
‘We had a relationship once, many years ago.’
‘When?’
‘Let me think . . . I was in my mid-twenties. We met through our families, the Italian connection. My mum knew her dad’s family, that kind of thing.’
‘What happened? Why are you being so cagey about all this with me? It’s not like you.’
‘It’s difficult for me to talk easily about it. The usual happened, we didn’t make it. No one’s fault. The pressure of work, the relationship folded.’
‘Then she went on to marry Eddie Butcher?’
‘Exactly.’ He glanced across at Willis and rolled his eyes. ‘You couldn’t write it, could you?’
‘No, because it doesn’t ring true.’
‘It did to me, at the time. I was heartbroken.’
‘How did they meet?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not sure. It’s tricky, Eb.’
‘So, what did Della have to say last night?’
‘Nothing that helps. I gave her a lift back to her hotel near Gatwick. She was quiet. She didn’t understand why Eddie had been targeted and she didn’t think he had been into anything other than legitimately building villas. She’s as much in the dark as we are.’
‘And you believed her?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘So what now?’ asked Willis as she looked across at Carter.
‘We treat it like we would any other inquiry.’
Willis kept her eyes on Carter’s profile. A lot of things were running through her mind. It was the first time in five years she didn’t feel she had Carter’s trust. Something new had just happened between them. Carter hadn’t wanted her involved in a vital part of an inquiry. He had personal reasons. Willis could understand that but they were partners – and, if Carter didn’t trust her enough to confide in her, then they were not partners.
‘Were you going to tell me?’ she asked.
‘Not if I didn’t have to.’
She shook her head, confused.
‘Eb, this is tricky ground. I feel the need to tread carefully. I don’t want you dragged into quicksand with me.’
‘Is that what you see this as, potential quicksand?’
‘A part of me does. I can’t lie. We all have things in our past, but they don’t all end up in a murder inquiry.’
‘Quicksand or not, I am in this with you.’
He nodded but she could see she hadn’t convinced him.
‘If nothing else, you’re a heavy bastard and you’ll sink faster than me and I can stand on you to get out.’
They took the road off the roundabout towards the small industrial estate named The Paddocks and pulled up at the gates. It was a smart estate, surrounded by a barbed-wire-topped steel fence. There were big notices telling people to beware of the patrol dogs. They pulled up and Carter peered past the guard on the gate, who was sheltering from the elements in a small hut.
‘Pretty high security for a builders’ yard. The place looks deserted. Morning, what you guarding here?’ Carter said to the security guard. ‘The Crown Jewels?’ He grinned.
‘Yeah, it looks like it, don’t it? You wouldn’t believe how much stuff gets nicked from sites.’
‘Where is everyone?’
‘Winding down for Christmas, I think. Most people knocked off this week except Mr Manson in Paradise Villas.’
‘That’s who we’ve come to see.’ Carter showed his warrant card.
‘Are you here about Eddie?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘I was sick to m
y stomach when I heard of what they did to him, poor bloke.’
‘When was the last time you saw Eddie Butcher?’
‘It was the day before Bonfire Night, the 4th. He was here for a few hours in the afternoon.’
‘Did he say anything to you? What was he here for, do you know?’
‘He was in his office most of the time. He seemed fine. We were talking about the celebrations, the firework displays and he said he was thinking of heading home to Spain by that evening, he wasn’t going to stay around for them. We had a joke and a laugh.’
‘How did he seem?’
‘He was his usual chatty self. He was the kind of bloke who always gives you the time of day. He was a friendly sort. There’s Mr Manson.’
A man was walking to a white Range Rover. Carter called out to him and he stopped in his tracks and waited for them to reach him. He was still jiggling the keys in his hand, still looking hopeful that he could leave any second.
Manson had a once-boyish face, but now it gained a little puffiness in his jawline. His blond hair was receding. He had large sapphire-blue eyes. He was wearing jeans and a blue Aran cardigan. He looked as if he could have been in a boy band once.
‘Mr Manson?’ Carter showed his warrant card. ‘You’ve met my colleague before, Detective Sergeant Willis?’
Willis waved a hand in the air with a warrant card attached. She was standing a few feet away as she got a feel for the place and began taking photos.
‘What’s this about?’ Manson was looking past Carter towards Willis with a frown on his face.
‘Can we have a chat, please?’ Carter glanced back to Willis. ‘Don’t mind her, she doesn’t get out of the office very often. I’ll be honest with you,’ said Carter, slipping into his cheeky-chappy routine in the hope that Manson might loosen up. It was always Carter’s defence against people who spoke with a posh accent. He never felt at ease. ‘Eddie Butcher’s murder is really proving difficult to solve, even finding out what he was doing over here seems an impossibility. He’s not the easiest man to research, if you know what I mean. People are reluctant to speak to the police.’
‘Really?’ Manson tried to look genuinely puzzled.
‘It’s probably because a lot of his friends were ex-cons. Some of them not even retired villains, pretty active. You must have seen some sights, met some real types.’
Manson shrugged. ‘I didn’t socialise with Eddie outside work. I met the clients, obviously, but I never saw them like that, maybe they were ex-cons. Maybe, some of them are not the most . . . I don’t know. Sorry, I don’t know what to say.’
‘I’m not trying to put you on the spot. They were clients, I suppose, and you built villas for them? They were Eddie’s contacts.’
Manson was still distracted as he talked and kept one eye on Willis who was walking around the exterior of the warehouse and disappeared out of sight.
‘Do you mind if my colleague takes a look around while we chat?’ Carter smiled. ‘Can you open up the warehouse, please? We’ll be as quick as we can.’
Manson shrugged, ‘Okay, but it’s been done already.’ He walked back over to open up the side door to the warehouse.
‘We’re struggling to come up with a reason Eddie was killed, especially in that manner. It’s the kind of death we’d associate with someone having trodden on the wrong toes, crossed someone they shouldn’t. Is that at all possible in this case, do you think?’
Manson shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anyone that Eddie had fallen out with.’
‘And you and Eddie got on well? You must have after working together for how many years?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Exactly. That’s longer than most marriages last. You must have known each other inside out. You still got on like a house on fire?’
‘We had no problems. We usually agreed on most things.’
‘No dodgy clients pissed off with the service? Anyone come to mind?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anyone, but then I wasn’t always with Eddie. He lived in Spain and I lived here.’
‘But, whoever it was, they chose to kill him here.’
Manson seemed to be thinking things through. He rubbed his face with his hands. His eyes were rimmed. He was having difficulty standing still.
Carter looked past him into the warehouse.
‘Would you feel better if we stepped inside?’
Manson was watching Willis as she examined the contents of some boxes.
‘What are you working on right now? Do you make anything here?’
‘No, we hold some things for shipping out to the building sites. We’re working on the same projects as we’ve been working on this last eight months. We’re building one villa on the Costa del Sol and updating an existing one for a client out there.’
‘Both of them are going smoothly enough?’
‘Yes, on target.’
‘Paid for?’
‘No, not yet, it doesn’t work like that in this business. At this stage, we have a lot of money outlaid on them. Were waiting for interim payments on both.’
‘Who are the clients?’
‘I’m not being funny, Inspector, but this is my livelihood. I’m the one who’s going to lose everything if they decide to pull out, or just not pay because Eddie’s not here any more. Without Eddie, my livelihood could all disappear and I have my own money in this business.’
‘Why would it just disappear? It’s obviously a good business and you must have built a good reputation. Now surely you’re the brains behind all this. How much do you own?’
‘I have a five per cent share in the business. I wasn’t the brains in the outfit. Eddie had all the charisma and the contacts. All I did was work out the logistics.’
‘You’re being modest, I’m sure. Has something happened to make you think Eddie’s death is going to make a big difference to this business?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I was not the figurehead. It’s always tricky, precarious. I don’t know what will happen to the business now.’
‘And you liked Eddie Butcher? I mean you thought he was a good boss?’
‘Yeah, he was okay. You know, he didn’t mess you about. He expected a good job done but he left you to get on with it.’
‘That’s good. I really hate that, someone looking over your shoulder, pointing out the bleeding obvious. Micromanagement, eh? But sometimes it was short of money. We’ve been looking at the accounts for the last few years. What’s been going on? Is it the world recession? I didn’t think that actually affected the super-wealthy.’
‘It’s touched people all the way to the top, I think, but Eddie and I liked to keep a modest cash flow going. We didn’t work more than we felt like and we made what we needed. Sometimes there are millions in the account and other times we are a million overdrawn. That’s the nature of a luxury business. It never bothered Eddie. I learned to be the same.’
‘It’s a whole new world to me.’ Carter laughed. ‘I worry about going a few hundred quid overdrawn, let alone a million.’ Manson smiled. ‘I’m going to need to know a bit more about what Eddie was working on. I just have to eliminate possible causes. I can see you run a tight ship here. I’m not looking to cause you problems, just want to solve the murder of a man who seems to have been a good friend of yours.’
‘Yeah, of course, I understand. But, like I said, I don’t want the customers to panic.’
Carter smiled. ‘Got ya . . . this is sensitive, I understand, don’t worry.’
Manson went into the office, came back after a few minutes, and handed Carter an envelope.
‘This is the information on the two villas we’re working on, clients’ names, et cetera.’
‘Appreciate it. I’m going to make sure any contact with them is kept to a minimum.
‘Has anyone from the family been out here, since Eddie was killed?’
He shook his head. ‘I haven’t really had much contact with them. I’ve met them,
but that’s about it.’
‘His family have a bit of a reputation,’ said Carter.
‘Yes, so I heard. Like I said, I only met Tony a couple of times.’
‘The thing is, I can see it would be tricky for you. I bet a lot of people you’ve built villas for are actually Tony’s friends. You must have a few Mafia bosses taking a swim in a pool you built.’
‘Could be. Look, sorry, that wasn’t my side of the operation. I’m the chippy, the site manager; I’m the man who works out how stuff is going to get done; I’m not the one who has dinners with the clients.’
‘And Eddie did?’
‘He lived in Spain. He saw the clients regularly. We had local contractors we trusted. I went back and forth when I needed to check on projects out there and Eddie and I met at the sites, if we needed to, but I know he saw a lot of past clients socially. I expect Marbella is one big club. Everyone knows everyone else?’
‘So, Eddie looked after the clients and he was good at that. He was a charmer, you say? He did well from all this, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘What about you? Do you get to own one of these villas that you build?’
Manson shook his head. ‘The wife and I own a small place in France.’
‘Really, that’s it?’ Carter asked.
Manson nodded.
‘That’s great, though, isn’t it? I’d be happy just having a caravan in Margate.’
Manson laughed. ‘It’s not as great as it sounds. Every time I go over there I see stuff that needs doing to the place. It ends up being a working holiday.’
‘Have you always been a developer?’
‘I’ve been in the building trade since leaving school. One of those jobs I fell into. I started off making bespoke kitchens.’
‘Well, good on ya! How did you and Eddie come to go into business together, in the first place? How did he even find you?’
‘I built a kitchen for him and he liked my work, we got on well. He thought I’d be up to the job and the rest is history.’
‘He was right. You and he have done well together. Are you from this area?’
‘I’m from Hertfordshire.’
‘Do you still have family there?’
‘In Rickmansworth, yes. Sorry? What is this relevant to?’
