He stood in front of the board and called them all to attention.
“I’ve got the warrant to search the house where Jeton lived with his wife before he moved in with Gazmend,” he began. “Dave, that’s our job for this morning. George, I want you to find out all you can about a charity Gazmend runs in Leicester. The charity brings young girls over a few times a year from an Albanian orphanage.”
At his words a mass of noise rose from his officers.
“That sounds right dodgy, sir,” called a voice from the back of the room.
“I agree, which is why I’ve given the job of ferreting out the information to George. He’s the best we have for that. If there’s anything untoward, he’ll find it.”
He smiled at George and was surprised to see an answering grin. Was it what he’d just said? No, now Paolo came to think of it, George had arrived looking particularly pleased with himself this morning. Whatever the reason, a happy George was much easier to work with than a sullen one.
“CC, I want you to contact Ejona Bejko and ask her to try to find out if any of the girls knew Gazmend other than as an interpreter. They may not tell her, of course, if he is part of the trafficking gang for fear of what might happen to their families, but it’s worth a try.”
“Right, Dave and I will be out for a few hours on the search. Any news, call me.”
Paolo and Dave stood in the kitchen of Jeton’s house. They, together with the uniformed officers, had searched every corner of the place and hadn’t found a single thing that incriminated Jeton.
“In fact,” Paolo said, “the only good thing to come from this morning’s work is that we’ve got this.” He pointed to the picture of Jeton and his wife on their wedding day. “At least I can pass that over to the interpreter with the images of Pete Carson and Jetmir Redzepi.”
“Weird, isn’t it, sir, that there’s no computer in the house?”
“I suppose so, but so many people now only use laptops or tablets, so that might not be suspicious, but I’ll tell you what is,” he said. “This place was immaculate when we arrived. Not a thing out of place. You’d think, if they’d both done a runner, there would be clothes scattered where they’d packed in a hurry. Or at least something to show they’d left on the hop. But no, this place was as neat as my late granny’s house after she’d been spring cleaning.”
“You think someone came in and cleaned up?”
Paolo nodded. “We’re not doing any good here. Let’s drop the images off at the interpreter’s and head back to the station.”
As they entered, CC called out, “The lab dropped off the test results, sir. I’ve put the envelope on your desk.”
“Great, thanks,” Paolo said, rushing through to his office.
He snatched the envelope and opened it, scanning the results as he moved round to his chair. The word inconclusive jumped out. He slumped down, feeling as if he’d run into yet another brick wall. His earlier positive feelings disappeared to such an extent, he found it hard to summon up the energy to concentrate on reading the full DNA report. The tests on blood samples gathered from the gates and drive at Pete Carson’s home were inconclusive due to there being insufficient material to conduct a thorough examination. Sighing, he stood up. Whether he wanted to or not, he had to share this crap news.
He walked into the main office, forcing himself to act in complete contrast to the way he felt. If he showed any negativity, it would rub off on his team and they didn’t deserve that. Summoning a smile from the depths of his being, he stood at the front of the room.
“Okay, listen up, everyone. Dave and I found nothing of any use at Jeton’s house, unfortunately, but we were able to pick up a photo to hand over to the interpreter. As you know, unless Redzepi decides to talk, we will have to let him go in another couple of hours. So Dave and I will be chatting to him again…”
He was interrupted by his phone. The display showed DCI Collins’ name.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” he said. Turning his back to the room, he swiped the phone to answer it. “Storey.”
“Hi, DCI Collins here, from Hull.”
“Please tell me you have some good news. We could do with it here.”
Collins laughed. “Well, it’s your lucky day, then, because that’s exactly why I’m calling you.”
Paolo listened and the more he learned, the more his spirits rose. He ended the call and turned back to a room full of eager faces. They’d clearly picked up on the tone, if not the content, of the call.
“Good news at last,” he said. “As I’m sure you’ve all gathered, that was DCI Collins from Hull. Sam Bristol, driver of the lorry smuggling in the illegals, and also the brother-in-law of the man we currently have in custody, has finally offered up something we can work with.” He grinned. “I’m not sure how Collins achieved it, and I don’t want to know, but he somehow convinced Sam that he would go down not only for smuggling the men, but also for trafficking children into prostitution. He didn’t need to be told what the other prisoners would do to him if they thought he aided child sex offenders. Apparently he worked it out for himself.”
Paolo settled himself on the edge of a desk. “Here’s the story so far. He and Redzepi work for our mysterious Joey, but they only bring in men, who are then sold for slave labour around the country. Apparently Sam didn’t seem to think that was much of a crime, but there you go. Anyway, it gives us something to use against Redzepi.”
CC punched the air. “Did Sam name his brother-in-law as being involved, sir? Did he give us enough to hold Redzepi for a bit longer?”
“He sure did. Names, dates and numbers. Once Sam started talking it seems he couldn’t stop. But there’s more. Joey is not only into people smuggling. According to Sam, Joey is the king of crime in Bradchester. The two bullies we had in here, Bekim and Edar, are his main enforcers of the protection and loan rackets he runs. Businesses pay to be protected, presumably from Bekim and Edar, and ordinary people are given loans at ridiculous rates of interest, meaning they end up so deep in debt they’ll never get out again. No wonder most people came close to passing out when we showed their pictures around.”
Dave laughed. “Seems if we can only work out who Joey is, the crime rate will drop and we can all have a nice relaxing Christmas break.”
Paolo grinned. “Considering we still have over a month to go before Christmas, we might get lucky. You never know. The main thing, though, is that Redzepi must know who he’s been working for. We just need to find a way to make him tell us. Time for us to have another chat with him.”
He stood up and noticed the DNA report on the desk where he’d been sitting. It was a pity to bring everyone down when he’d finally given them some hope, but it had to be done.
“Sorry, I’ve also got some bad news to temper the good. The DNA results on the blood taken from Pete Carson’s place are inconclusive. Not enough material to work with.”
At the chorus of groans, he instinctively looked over at George, expecting an outburst. But George didn’t look upset at all. In fact, he looked positively cheerful. Maybe the talk he had with him had done some good after all.
“I thought you’d have been more annoyed than anyone, George. I know you were worried Pete Carson would get away with it.”
George shrugged. “He’ll get his just deserts one day. Life has a habit of paying back when you least expect it.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. But don’t worry, we will get Carson. I’m sure of that. By the way, I know you haven’t had much time, but have you discovered much on Gazmend’s charity?”
George smiled. “Quite a bit actually, sir, and it looks as though it’s all on the level. As you say, a few times a year the charity brings in between six and ten girls, mainly under the age of ten. They come from an orphanage by coach and get a whistle-stop tour of Europe on the way. They stay here in the UK in a hotel at the expense of the charity for up to a week, but usually four or five days, and then they return home stopping in different places to t
hose they visited on the way out.”
“The girls definitely leave again?” Paolo asked. “It isn’t a front to get the girls over here and not send them back?”
“From what I’ve found out so far,” George said, “the same number goes home as arrives. I’ll dig some more, but lots of the Albanian businesses in Leicester contribute to the charity. I think it’s on the level.”
Paolo nodded. “Good work. In the meantime, give me the details on the orphanage in Albania. I’ll be seeing our new interpreter tomorrow to find out if the girls recognised anyone from the photographs. It might be worth asking her to call. See what the people running the orphanage have to say.”
Paolo and Dave entered the interview room and went through the formalities. Switching on the tape and recording the date, time and people in the room.
“Mr Redzepi, are you sure you wouldn’t like legal representation?” Paolo began.
“As I’ve told you over and over, why should I need it when I have done nothing wrong? Today you will have to let me go. I will then go to see my solicitor to find out how to sue you and this force for damages.”
“You may not be going home today, I’m afraid. You see, your brother-in-law has been very helpful.”
Redzepi laughed. “Oh, please, not that old trick. Sam hasn’t told you anything about me because there is nothing to tell.”
“Really?” Paolo said, putting a sheet of paper on the table and turning it so that Redzepi could read the dates, names and numbers. “Sam has been most helpful, don’t you think?”
Redzepi gave the paper a quick glance. “It’s nothing to do with me. Sam has obviously been running this scam for a long time. I was duped into believing he was an honest man.”
“I wonder if your books will prove that when we pass this information over to the financial forensic squad.”
For the first time, Redzepi looked ill at ease, but he remained silent.
Paolo spun the paper back towards him. “That’s not all Sam told us. We now know all about Joey and his various business activities. It seems you’ve been working hand in glove with him for a number of years to smuggle in men who believe they have a job and a better life to come to, but end up as slave labour. Sam says neither of you are involved in the child sex racket, but maybe you are and Sam doesn’t know about it.”
Still Redzepi stayed dumb, but Paolo was pleased to see the man was starting to sweat.
“On the other hand, if you’re not part of that particular set up, surely you would want to help us shut it down. The traffickers are bringing in kids as young as six. I’m sure the courts would be much more inclined to be lenient if you were to help us put Joey out of business, particularly that one. All you need to do is tell us his name.”
Redzepi opened his mouth and closed it several times. At last, thought Paolo, we’ll know who we’re after.
“Joey?” Redzepi said. “I don’t know anyone called Joey and now I find I have changed my mind. I would like to call my solicitor and I have nothing more to say until he gets here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
19th November (evening)
Paolo closed the door on his apartment and sighed with relief. It had been one hell of a day. He’d been seriously tempted to go to the Italian restaurant again, but didn’t want Jessica to feel he was stalking her. Besides, he wasn’t sure he’d be the best of company tonight. Fair enough, they’d had a bit of a breakthrough with Sam spilling his guts, but Redzepi had clammed up and refused to say another word.
He flopped onto the couch and picked up the remote, flicked the button and slung it next to him. Maybe a spot of television was what he needed to make him forget work for a while. The DNA result had been a real blow. Without that, they had no way of tying Pete Carson down.
As the screen came into focus, Paolo couldn’t believe his eyes. There he was – Pete Carson giving a press conference to promote his concert, grinning at the cameras as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And he probably hasn’t, Paolo fumed.
He reached for the remote, but paused as he saw the smile leave Pete’s face. Paolo hadn’t heard the question, but whatever it was, it had clearly knocked Pete sideways. Paolo turned the volume up in time to hear the question being repeated.
“Would you like to comment on information I’ve been given about your involvement in a child abuse ring?”
The reporter was from the local paper. Paolo often saw him hanging around the courts. He didn’t normally cover celebrity events, so must have gone there deliberately to ask the question. But who the hell was his informant? Paolo felt sick. Dear God, please don’t let it be anyone on the team, he prayed, but he already knew in his heart it couldn’t be anyone else.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Pete Carson said over the riot that had erupted when the question was repeated.
The reporter smiled as if he alone held the key to Fort Knox and no one else even knew there was gold inside.
“I think you do, Mr Carson. Would you like to comment on a current investigation which I believe led senior detectives to take blood samples from your gates and drive?”
Paolo wanted to throw the remote through the screen, but needed to find out how much the reporter had been told. All the reporters were now yelling questions and Pete Carson looked as if he was going to throw up all over them.
“I repeat. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shouted over the din.
“Apparently, the Chief Constable’s nephew is part of the team, which my informant tells me is why the investigation is a bit of a shambles. But that’s neither here nor there. Would you like to comment on the allegation that you’re part of a paedophile ring operating here in Bradchester?”
Pete Carson jumped up. “That’s a lie! I’m not going to stay here to listen to you spouting a pack of lies.”
Pushing his chair to one side, he stormed from sight, closely followed by reporters and cameramen jockeying for the best position.
Paolo hit the mute button. No wonder George had been looking so bloody smug. He must have leaked to the bloody press. Standing up, he paced up and down the lounge. He had to get rid of some of this pent up energy. Grabbing his jacket, he headed for the door. A long walk should clear his head and calm him down.
He walked, as he thought, aimlessly, until the enticing smell of garlic and herbs wafted on the air. His subconscious had brought him to the restaurant. He owed it to his inner whatever to go in, surely? Not because he wanted to see Jessica, but because he was hungry and this was a restaurant, right? Yeah, right. And if he believed that he’d swallow anything. From outside he couldn’t tell if their usual table was occupied. Only one way to find out.
Opening the door, the fabulous aromas doubled in intensity and his mouth began to water. He glanced towards the back of the room, but no one was sitting at the table they often shared. Oh well, he’d just have to eat alone. As he took a step towards the table, Jessica appeared from the cloakroom area near the tiny bar. She saw him and smiled.
“Hello,” she said, coming over to stand next to him. “I didn’t think you were coming in tonight.”
“I nearly didn’t,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”
For answer, she smiled again and led the way. As they sat, he felt her scrutiny and looked up.
“Tough day?”
He nodded. “A bit up and down.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “No, I think we should stick to our rule. No work chat and that way we can’t cross any lines we shouldn’t. Fair?”
“Fair,” she said, “but only if you can shake off whatever cloud you’re sitting under.”
Paolo grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”
Jessica laughed. “Without resorting to shop talk, I am a psychiatrist. If I can’t spot when someone’s troubled, I’d better find myself another profession.”
Forcing himself to forget the cares of the day, Paolo picked up the menu. At least the day would end on a high.
Two hours later, and he was well fed and at peace with the world. Whatever tomorrow would bring would happen whether he worried about it or not. Glancing across at Jessica, he realised how much he enjoyed her company. Maybe she enjoyed his. Deciding to stop being such a wimp, he sat up straighter.
“I need to ask you something,” he said.
“Oh, oh. That sounds ominous. You haven’t forgotten your wallet, have you? Planning to leave me to pay the full bill?”
He smiled. “Not quite as bad as that. I was wondering if you’d like to go out somewhere one evening. See a show, or something.”
Jessica didn’t even appear to think about it. “I’m afraid not,” she said, shaking her head.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Paolo said, feeling like a fifteen-year-old who’d just been turned down for the first time. “I won’t ask again.”
Jessica smiled again. “I hope you do,” she said. “I’m saying no because I’m still seeing Katy as an outpatient. Ask me again when her treatment is finished. As long as you haven’t morphed into an axe murderer by then, I might just say yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
20th November (morning)
Paolo picked up the newspapers on his way into the station, dreading what the headlines might be on the more lurid tabloids. He wasn’t surprised to see ‘Paedo Pete?’ as the main theme, the question mark keeping the newspapers just about on the right side of libel. Thankfully, there was little about the police informer, but he knew that would soon change. In fact, if he had anything to do with it, the person responsible would face more than a press enquiry.
He’d watched the news the night before, when the reporters had followed Pete home to his mansion and taken up residence outside both gates. Within half an hour, a private security firm had arrived to ensure no one had access. In fact, the only vehicle they’d let in had been a pizza van. Paolo found himself hoping Pete choked on his meal.
Someday Never Comes (#2 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 22
