Buried in the Past (7 page)

Nash was undecided about whether to phone the retired officer, when Clara returned.

‘How did you get on with the Met?’

Nash explained.

‘That’s a bit of good luck,’ she commented when he told her where Wellings was living. ‘Have you phoned him?’

‘Not yet, I was still making my mind up about that. On balance, I think it’ll be better to wait until we’ve had a look at the other file. It should be with us tomorrow.’

It was mid-afternoon when the promised file arrived. Clara eyed it as Nash struggled with the wrappings. ‘That looks a far bigger file than Ray’s.’

‘It will have the murder trial stuff in it as well as Max’s own track record, I guess. Drag a chair over and let’s have a look at the gory details.’

Nash said it in jest, but when they opened the file, it seemed the joke was in fairly bad taste. Clara drew her chair nearer and as they read the section dealing with Max Perry’s injuries, she gasped. ‘That’s impossible!’

Nash didn’t reply. He was still coming to terms with the
implications
of what he’d read.

‘How the hell did that happen?’ Clara continued. ‘It must be some sort of ghastly coincidence.’

‘You know I don’t believe in coincidences.’ Nash shook his head, as much to clear it as to emphasize his denial. ‘But how a motor mechanic in North Yorkshire dies of what appear to be identical injuries to those inflicted on a London gangster over a quarter of a century ago, baffles me. Even down to the teeth having been knocked out.’

‘What do you intend to do?’

‘First of all I want confirmation of what we’ve just read. I mean an expert opinion. And the only person who can give us that is Señor Ramirez. I’ll try and get to see him tomorrow. I reckon you and I should go for a day at the seaside in the next few days.’

‘A day at the…? Oh, I get you. Go see the retired officer. Wellings, you said his name was, didn’t you?’

‘That’s right, I’ll phone first to make sure it’s convenient,’ Nash kept his face straight. ‘And in case we have some spare time, be sure
and buy a newspaper and don’t wear any tights.’

‘What?’

‘You can fold the paper up to use as a hat and you won’t want tights on when you go paddling.’

Nash picked up the folder, and as he did so a photo slid out of the file onto his desk. He picked it up and studied it. ‘Wow! What a stunner!’

‘She’s remarkably beautiful,’ Clara agreed. ‘Who is she?’

Nash looked on the back but there was no inscription, neither could they find any reference whatsoever to the mystery woman in the file. ‘Let’s see what help we can get from Scarborough.’

Nash phoned Ramirez, and explained what he needed. ‘I’ll have a look for you. As it happens, I have a free day tomorrow, unless you manage to find any more bodies, which is always a strong possibility. Ten o’clock in the morning OK?’

Examination of the pathology results provided the confirmation Nash needed. ‘The post-mortem findings don’t confirm the weapon,’ Ramirez said, ‘but the wounds look identical, and the diameter of each injury is the right size. The pathologist didn’t suggest a possible weapon, but now I’ve had chance to study Mr Nattrass’s injuries closely, I think you should look for a sledgehammer as the most likely to have inflicted those wounds. There are other
similarities
between Max Perry’s case and that of Mr Nattrass. The pathologist at Max Perry’s post-mortem failed to identify the marks on the genitals,’ Ramirez continued. ‘I find that surprising. They’re quite clearly burn marks. And just the right size and shape to have been made by a cigarette. Added to that, there’s the way Perry was tied up, which to me looks identical to how we found Nattrass. Do you agree?’

‘Yes, I’d noticed. I think that makes it fairly conclusive.’

The Scarborough guest house was almost identical to those surrounding it. Set back from the road, the front garden had been covered in tarmac to provide parking spaces.

Wellings was nothing like the mental image Nash had conjured up of the retired officer. No more than medium height, slim, wiry of build, with gold-rimmed spectacles, he looked more like an academic than a policeman or a hotelier. He greeted them and led them into the dining room, where he indicated the coffee machine in the corner. ‘Breakfast finished only half an hour ago, so the coffee’s still fresh. Unless you’d prefer tea?’

They shook their heads. ‘Right, I’ll be with you in a second. I’ll just pop into the kitchen and put a jug of milk in the microwave.’

When they were seated round one of the tables, Wellings stirred his coffee. ‘What’s this all about, then?’

‘An old customer of yours,’ Nash told him. ‘Well, two to be exact. Raymond Perry and his Uncle Max.’

‘Ray Perry? I haven’t heard that name in a long number of years. Not that I’ve wanted to. Nasty piece of work; sliced up Tony Callaghan good and proper. What’s your interest in him? Don’t tell me he’s come to Yorkshire?’

Nash nodded.

‘That’s a first, I’ll bet. I don’t think Ray’s willingly been north of Watford Gap all his life. What’s he done?’

After Nash explained, Wellings responded, ‘Can’t say I’ll shed many tears.’ Wellings took a swig of his coffee. ‘Ray Perry was a bloody nuisance, not to put too fine a point on it. Caused us a lot of problems, one way or another, even before he did for Callaghan.
Then he became more than a nuisance.’

‘In what way?’

‘When Mad Max was killed we got word that Callaghan was behind it. We were extremely worried there would be an all-out war between the gangs, but thankfully it didn’t happen. Ray’s slicing up of Dirty Harry was very badly timed. We were on the point of pulling Callaghan in for questioning and we were sure we’d get a shed-load of information, even if we couldn’t pin Max’s murder on him, but Ray jumped the gun and got there first.’

‘Inconvenient, to say the least,’ Nash agreed. ‘But given what I’ve read about Callaghan, what made you so certain you’d get info from him? He didn’t seem the type to cough easily.’

‘He wasn’t, but we’d got something on him. Not criminal, this was personal. We thought it was something Ray Perry didn’t know. Obviously we were wrong.’

‘What was it, can you remember?’

Wellings smiled. ‘Oh yes, I can remember well enough. It was a woman,’ the retired officer kept a straight face. ‘They cause a lot of trouble, attractive women.’

‘You don’t need to tell Mike that,’ Mironova interjected.

‘Ray had a girlfriend, a nightclub singer called Frankie Da Silva. She was an absolute stunner. She’d a good singing voice too. Not top class, but good enough to earn a decent living, and to be honest, when she was on stage, very few men noticed her voice. What she saw in Ray Perry, I’ve no idea. She could have had her pick of men. But then, women seem to fall for the most disreputable types.’

‘You don’t need to tell Mike that, either,’ Clara added again.

Wellings grinned. ‘Max Perry’s wife, Corinna, was another case in point. She was a really good-hearted woman; do anything to help anybody. Mind you, that was probably due to her training. She was a nurse before she married Max,’ he explained. ‘Corinna did a lot of fund-raising for local charities, that sort of thing. She was a bit younger than Max, which was another reason I couldn’t understand the match. Pretty, too, although nowhere near as lovely as Frankie.

‘Anyway, just before Tony Callaghan was killed, we got word that he had been seeing Frankie when Ray wasn’t about. Our snout
told us Callaghan had been seen going to Frankie’s flat – a lot. After Max’s murder, we were told that it was Frankie lured Max to the place where he was killed; an empty lock-up under the arches near one of the big railway stations. Apparently, the plan was for her to set Max up for the kill, before which they’d get him to tell her where he kept his stash. They’d grab that and scarper. Frankie agreed to do it, both for the money and for Callaghan. Hardly an original scheme, but apparently it worked, at least for Frankie. The only problem was, Ray must have found out what they were up to and got to Callaghan before they could fly off into the sunset.’

Wellings paused, frowning slightly. ‘What is it?’ Nash prompted. ‘Something you remembered?’

‘I sat in on a couple of the interviews when Ray Perry was being questioned. When the boss asked him about Callaghan and Frankie, he didn’t pull any punches.’

Wellings glanced apologetically at Clara before continuing, ‘He suggested Callaghan was screwing Frankie left, right and centre and word was she couldn’t get enough of Dirty Harry’s dick. He went on and on about it, trying to goad Perry.’

‘And did he get a reaction?’

‘He did, but it certainly wasn’t the one he was hoping for. Ray burst out laughing. For some reason, the idea of Frankie and Callaghan tickled him, in spite of the mess he was in.’

‘And you’ve no idea why?’

‘None at all.’

‘What happened to Frankie, do you know?’

‘She was never seen again. We were told at the time that she’d decided to go solo.’

‘Where did you pick up all your information?’

‘Our DCI had a contact. No idea who, although I suspect it might have been a member of Max’s organization, or someone on the fringes of it. Whoever he was, he was bloody reliable. He’d passed us a load of stuff before all this blew up, all of it top class, so we’d no reason to doubt this was genuine.’

Nash slid a photo from the folder he’d brought with him, ‘Do you recognize this woman?’

A nostalgic smile spread across Wellings’ face. ‘That’s Frankie.
Frankie Da Silva. One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on.’

‘Did anything strike you about the way Max Perry was killed? The pictures and description of his injuries in the file are fairly graphic.’

Wellings grimaced. ‘Not half as bad as being at the crime scene, believe me. I actually felt sorry for Max. I know he was a villain, but God knows what agonies he must have suffered before he died. They tortured the poor bastard, trying to find his stash, we thought. To do that they burned his balls with cigarettes. He must have been bloody stubborn, that’s what we reckoned, because they also yanked his teeth out with pliers.

‘Did you read how he died? The only way we could identify him was by the bloody great gold chain Corinna had given him. That and his signet ring. Later, we matched his prints with some we lifted from Max’s flat. The place where he was killed was a
bloodbath
, if that’s what you meant by anything striking.’

‘Not precisely; I wondered if you’d got any clue as to the killer’s identity from the MO?’

‘No, it was a new one on us. Why do you ask?’

‘What Mike’s getting at, Mr Wellings,’ Clara interrupted, ‘is that we’ve got the body of a young man in our mortuary and as far as we can judge from the pathology, this young man’s injuries are a carbon copy of those inflicted on Max Perry.’

Wellings looked stunned. ‘I’ve no idea how that could have happened. As I told you, we’d no clues and only a rumour that suggested Frankie was involved, plus the opportune way she vanished.’

‘You mentioned something about Max Perry’s stash. There’s no mention of it in here. What’s the story behind that?’

‘Again, a lot of it is rumour. We accumulated a fair amount of circumstantial evidence following Max’s death. Surprising, the number of people who talked then, people who were too scared even to say good morning to us beforehand. That was the sort of fear Max and Ray inspired. The story was that Max had been collecting diamonds for years.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘Max said he didn’t trust banks; that they were too easy to rob. Well, if anyone should know, he’d be the one. Also, he didn’t want his money tied up where he’d have difficulty getting to it in a hurry. With some of the things he’d done, he wanted his assets easily portable and able to be converted into readies at a moment’s notice.’

‘What sort of sums are we talking about, any idea?’

Wellings spread his arms. ‘The rumours got wilder and wilder with every telling. But I think you’d be safe in starting with seven figures. And then maybe working up. If they’re still out there the value would be astronomical. Better than a lottery jackpot, even with a rollover, I guess.’

‘They might well be out there,’ Nash said soberly. ‘We may never know for sure. What we can say with some certainty is that there’s a ruthless and sadistic killer who is still out there. One with no qualms about inflicting some of the most horrific injuries I’ve ever seen on anyone who gets in his way.’

‘Is there anything else you need to ask?’ Wellings glanced across at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s just that I help the missus prepare the guests’ evening meals. This time of the year is our busiest.’

‘I’ve just one more thing. Both files are fairly detailed but neither of them gives much clue as to what sort of criminal activity the Perry organization was involved with.’

‘Pretty much anything that made a profit, I’d say. Their power base was built around the scrapyard and the chain of casinos, discos and nightclubs. That’s where Ray met Frankie. Around that time there was a string of bank robberies and bullion hold-ups round the south of England. In those days bank branch security was archaic, making them easy pickings. We heard Max did all the planning, whilst Ray recruited and controlled the muscle. Nothing was ever proved, but it’s surely not coincidence that the robberies stopped after Max was killed and Ray was put inside. Max was bloody clever. He was without doubt the brains behind the heists. We knew it, but he was so careful we could never prove anything. We didn’t even have enough on him to pull him in for questioning. Meticulous, that was Mad Max; into everything from robbery to prostitution and protection.’ Wellings paused and stressed his next
point, ‘Everything but drugs. That was one thing they never got involved in. I heard Ray wouldn’t stand for it.’

Wellings paused, as if undecided whether to say what was on his mind. ‘There is one more thing – the mention of diamonds made me think of it. Around that time, we were contacted by Dutch police, asking for help to trace two men reported missing by their wives. They were known to act as diamond couriers from time to time and their car had been logged boarding a ferry for the UK, and coming off at Harwich. We did the usual searches, but as far as I know, no trace of them or the car was ever found. It was a while later, long after Max was killed, that we heard another whisper. It concerned blood diamonds. Do you know what those are?’

Both Nash and Mironova nodded.

‘Years ago, there was a big, highly illegal trade in them, which the authorities were keen to stamp out because of their connection to war crimes and genocide in places such as Sierra Leone.’

‘And you think Max was involved in that trade?’

‘That was what we heard, and it was also rumoured that the two men who vanished were carrying blood diamonds, which was why the theft of them couldn’t be reported.’ Wellings then added, ‘There was also talk that Max’s murder might have been a hit ordered in revenge for the diamond theft, but that’s all it was, bar room gossip.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Nash asked.

‘Too right, it must be the sea air.’

‘Then I reckon we should get some fish and chips before we set off back. Sit on the prom and eat them.’

‘What do you reckon about what we heard this morning?’ Clara asked between mouthfuls.

Nash watched a small fishing boat chugging slowly out of the harbour. ‘The first thing Wellings did was strengthen my doubt about Ray Perry’s guilt.’

‘I’d have thought it was the other way round. Surely, if Perry thought Callaghan had killed his uncle and was having an affair with his girl, and was about to run off with her, that would give him a strong motive for killing Callaghan?’

‘There’s only one flaw in that argument, a flaw that a lot of other
people missed, too. Either missed or deliberately overlooked.’

‘What are you thinking of, the anonymous tip-off?’

‘Yes, somebody fed that information to the police. But they overdid it, gave too much detail.’

‘I see what you mean. In order to know as much as he did, the caller had to be the killer. And Ray Perry wouldn’t have shopped himself.’

‘Exactly, and when you set out the motives just now, you prefaced your argument with the word “if”. And that’s the other weakness in your case. Everything seems to be based on supposition, hearsay and “information received”. Let me put an alternative scenario to you. It’s a case of “what if”, but no more so than yours.’

‘Go on, try me, this is fascinating.’

‘Right, let’s start with Max Perry’s murder. Everyone seemed to take it for granted that Callaghan ordered it. Why? Because that was the rumour. Don’t get me wrong. The way the system works in London, underworld rumour’s more often right than wrong. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be manipulated. Max was tortured before he was killed, presumably to reveal where this alleged fortune in diamonds was stashed. I accept that could have been Callaghan. I also accept that Callaghan and Frankie Da Silva could have been lovers. What doesn’t sound right is this supposed plan for Callaghan and Frankie to take off for a new life somewhere and walk into the sunset holding hands. Very Mills & Boon,’ Nash added dryly.

‘Why do you find that so hard to believe?’

‘You’ve to understand the world occupied by characters like Callaghan and Perry – and having worked in the Met, I’ve met a few. Callaghan had a highly successful criminal organization working for him, probably earning as much in a year as Max Perry, and a much worse background than Ray Perry’s. He wouldn’t have walked away from that because a good-looking female fluttered her eyelids at him.

‘What if someone else killed Max, making sure everybody “knew” that Callaghan ordered it. Then murdered Callaghan, making sure they framed Ray; the one person who had two reasons for wanting him dead. The only questions that leaves are: who was the target – was it Tony Callaghan, Max or Ray Perry – and who
actually was the killer?’