Cold Killers (38 page)

‘Please sit; I’ll get you some tea. Milk and sugar?’

‘Yes to both, please.’

‘Here.’ She cut Willis a slice of banana loaf fresh from the oven.

‘When are you due?’ asked Willis eating the cake straight away.

‘I’m not for a month but I’m enormous, aren’t I? Must be a whopper. Best not to think about it.’ She grimaced. ‘It’s a bit late to back out now,
isn’t it?’ She smiled as she manoeuvred herself into a chair to sit at the table opposite Willis. The wooden table had scribbles from pens and marks from hot plates. It was the kind of
kitchen that Willis felt at home in. It was a million miles away from any kitchen she’d ever been in before but it made her instantly feel like moving in. Her mind was already trying to work
out why Ross threw all of this away. Was it just too perfectly laid-back for Mr Immaculate? Or did Ross actually have a self-destructive button that was bigger than his brain?

‘Has he sent you over to give his excuses? Is it work?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Held up? Holding on? Holed up?’

‘Sorry?’

‘He comes up with some remarkable excuses sometimes. He’s supposed to pick up the girls after their ballet class this afternoon. I thought he was coming back from Spain in plenty of
time. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I was going along, anyway, to watch them; but he usually lets me know.’

‘When did you speak to him last?’

‘Yesterday afternoon. Is there something the matter?’

Willis shook her head. ‘I was in Spain with him. I came back but he stayed out there. He’s just hard to get hold of, that’s all, and he left me with a present he’d bought
for his daughters.’ Willis handed over the carrier bag and Belinda pulled out the dresses.

‘Oh, they’re going to be so happy with these. That’s typical of Dave: he remembers the small things and forgets the big.’ She looked to Willis for empathy. Willis
shrugged.

‘Sorry, I don’t know David well. We’ve only just started working together.’

‘How long will he be in Spain for?’

‘I have no idea, I’m sorry.’

‘I tried to get hold of him,’ said Belinda, her forehead creased as she tried to read Willis’s expression and struggled to decipher it. ‘His phone keeps going to
voicemail,’ she added.

‘Yes, I know. I’ve been trying too.’

‘Is it something to worry about?’ asked Belinda, smoothing the round of her tight tummy as the baby shifted. ‘I mean, have you come to tell me something awful has happened to
him? Is this baby going to have a dad when it comes out?’

‘No, we don’t really know what happened at the moment but I am sure it’s nothing to worry about.’

‘He does quite a lot of secretive investigations. He speaks God knows how many languages. He’s a genius, really. We could have made a fortune if he’d decided not to take such a
moral-minded career.’ She smiled at Willis’s worried expression. ‘Only joking.’

‘I’m sure we will find out what has been going on soon. I just wanted to come and give you these dresses. Sorry, did you say Ross is the father?’

‘Yes, a bit of a relapse night and we always were fertile.’

‘But you’re with a new partner?’

‘Oh yes, don’t worry.’

Willis shook her head. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like it was personal to me. I’m not in any way involved with David. It’s just he mentioned how supportive your new
partner was. I thought this must be his.’

‘My new partner is a woman – Adele – and, yes, she took a bit of talking round, when she found out that David is going to continue to be in our lives, but it’s all
settled down now. We’ll be okay.’

‘That sounds very . . . adult,’ Willis said, although she was not sure what she was supposed to say. It actually seemed a mess, to her.

‘Does it? Can’t think why. David is such a child. He loves his intrigue and his secrets. Like right now? He doesn’t realise how bloody annoying it is, just to disappear. Thank
you for bringing these over. The girls will be thrilled. Please, Ebony, can I have your number? Will you ring me when you hear from him and tell him to get in touch straight away.’

‘I will. Thanks for the cake.’

‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘Good luck with everything, Belinda.’

Robbo was waiting for Willis when she got back to the station.

‘You feeling any better? You’ve got some colour back.’

‘A little, yes.’

‘Maybe it was sunstroke you had.’

‘Could have been, I suppose. What’s it like?’

‘Cold and yet burning up, vomiting, sweats. Stomach pains.’

‘Robbo, that’s enough,’ said Pam as she came round to see Willis. ‘Main thing is you’re on the mend.’ She felt Willis’s forehead.

‘Sit down to be on the safe side,’ Pam said. ‘I’ll get you a glass of water.’

‘Okay,’ said Robbo, ‘let’s crack on with the investigation into Melvin Pratt’s murder. The post-mortem is in. Bet you’re sorry you missed that.’ He
smiled. Willis nodded absent-mindedly. She didn’t get the joke and she never minded the dissection side of things.

She opened the file and looked at the body diagrams. There were five in all. Normally, one would suffice.

‘Dr Harding couldn’t fit all his injuries on one page, so she apologises, but, to make it clear, she’s split them into burns, blunt traumas, superficial wounds and deep wounds.
You want a few minutes to look at those?’

‘Yes, I think I will need it.’

‘Good, I’ll get a brew on. Pam?’

‘Skinny latte, please.’

‘Don’t take the piss, Pam, white or black?’

‘White.’

‘That’s a terrible way to die,’ Willis said when Robbo came back with the coffee. ‘The person who inflicted this kind of pain is the type of killer I’ve never met
before. He laid out tools, like a tradesman. According to Sandford, he went through Melvin’s kitchen, looking for what he needed. There were several empty aerosol canisters. He seems to have
used anything volatile, any alcohol he could find, to set Melvin alight, like making a home-made blowtorch.

‘Yes, this was brutal and forensic. This man saw how far he could damage the human body and then took it further. Harding estimates the injuries were inflicted over a period of five
hours.’

Willis was crouched over Robbo’s desk as she went through the details. ‘God, I wouldn’t want to be reading reports like this every week.’

‘Could happen if we don’t close the cartels down.’

‘Yes, it’s happening in Spain.’ Willis’s eyes met Robbo’s and both knew what the other was thinking.

‘Ross will be okay, I’m sure.’

She nodded, even though she knew she didn’t agree.

‘No signs of a break-in but it looks like Melvin often left the door open.’ Willis continued going through the report. ‘So it wasn’t necessarily someone he knew. But it
doesn’t look like he was followed home from the pub. Someone waited. This happened an hour after the man upstairs heard him coming home drunk. Then he said he heard loud noises at just before
twelve.’

‘Looking at these statements, we’re not short of people who saw Melvin that night,’ said Robbo.

‘It’s a lot like Eddie Butcher’s. It’s from the same school of torture. Someone likes his blowtorch.’

‘CCTV from opposite the pub picks out Harold Butcher talking to him outside and it looks like he gives him something. Melvin was found with a rolled-up bunch of twenties – I’m
guessing that’s what Harold gave him. I think we can count Harold out of the equation for this murder. We know this isn’t his style.’

‘For me, the man who jumps out as capable is Marco,’ said Willis.

‘Della’s managed to get us a sample of Marco’s DNA and his fingerprint. We already have Harold’s and a few other villains’ from the pub that night on file. We will
see if the DNA from the murder scene matches Marco’s from the sample Della got us.’

‘Have you met Della yet?’

Robbo shook his head. ‘She’s staying in one of our flats down the road. Carter sees her. He’s the only person she has daily contact with.’

‘Is she being followed?’

‘Not directly. She insisted she can’t be. The surveillance on the flat in Shoreditch shows her comings and goings there. We have to leave her to do things the way she sees fit. An
awful lot is resting on her.’

‘I’ll head down to see the site now,’ said Willis. ‘And I’ll talk to the locals, get a feel for things.’

Della was adding a backpack and a woolly hat to her outfit locked in the wardrobe. She had picked up her passport now and that was stowed in the cupboard as well. She had
decided to move it from Shoreditch. She would keep it locked in the car from now on. She could always abandon the car at the airport. The main thing was that she was ready to run. She looked at the
passport and was impressed. It was an older-style one, easier to copy. Eddie had been right: the contacts he’d given her all knew what she needed.

She got a text from Carter.

‘You free?’

She called him.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘didn’t need you to call. Just thought you might want to meet for a catch-up.’

‘It’s okay. I’m on my own here. I’m free. I’ve decided to move into the other place now. It’s getting a little tense here. I’m on my way over
now.’

‘Okay, I’ll see you there.’

Della picked up her bag with her new identity in it and listened for any sound before she opened her bedroom door, looking back to see if she’d remembered everything. She walked straight
into Harold.

‘You packed up, ready to leave us so soon?’ He looked down at the bag.

‘I wish.’ She tried to get past him but he stepped back into her way.

‘What’s in the bag?’

‘What’s it got to do with you? We’re too far down this road not to trust one another, Harold. I’m going off to track down the diamonds.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No, you won’t.’

‘That wasn’t a request. Who was that on the phone?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Give me your phone.’ He held out his hand.

She gave it to him and he looked at the call list on it.

‘Who’s Danielle?’

‘Hairdresser.’

‘Now open the bag.’

She sighed, took the phone back and put it into her handbag and then pulled out the loaded handgun.

‘Now, you know I can use this, Harold. Eddie always said I was a better shot than him. I don’t want to use it. It’s going to make a mess on the carpet and I will have to clean
it and I don’t want to miss my hairdresser’s appointment. This is just a friendly little reminder to you, Harold, to stay out of my face. Don’t expect me to come back here.
I’ll contact you when everything is ready to go. You stay in touch with me and let me know where and when you want the diamonds delivered. Give my love to Sandra if she comes over. I hope her
plane gets blown up. I’d love to feel the soft rain of Sandra’s brain falling from the sky.’

Harold’s face registered his anger and she could see he contemplated going for it. She lifted the gun and smiled.

‘Don’t be stupid, Harold.’

‘I only want to help you get this right, Della. I want all of us to come out of this alive. We’re on the same side. Let me help you.’

‘No. I do this alone or I don’t do it.’

‘Okay.’ He stepped back. ‘Of course, your way, but just remember that I can help you.’

‘Like you helped Eddie? You set him up.’

‘No, I swear.’

‘You can swear all you like but you must have seen Marco’s rise to Tony’s right hand. Why did you let it happen? You just watched while Eddie was set up. I know that he was. I
know that you were the last person to see him before they came to get him and torture him to death. That means you, Harold, could have prevented it. That means you’re as fucking guilty as the
rest of them. Trust you? I’d sooner trust Sandra.’

Willis went straight to Melvin Pratt’s home. It was still cordoned off and Sandford was working inside. He stopped to come to the door to talk to her.

‘You’re senior investigating officer on this one?’

‘I am.’

‘Congratulations.’ He smiled. ‘We’ve done the main work here now, if you want to come in. You’ll find a suit in my car.’

Willis got suited up.

‘I’ll take you through things from the front door,’ said Sandford.

‘Melvin arrived back from the pub and seems to have gone straight to bed.’ Sandford opened the door to Melvin’s bedroom and showed Willis.

‘You can still smell it,’ said Willis. ‘The alcohol.’

‘It’s not just from the pub,’ answered Sandford.

‘No, I understand, I read the report.’

‘He was dragged off the bed,’ said Sandford, pointing to markers on the floor and on his plan where samples had been taken. ‘There are fibres from his clothes. He was wearing
boxers and a T-shirt. His skin was left on a nail sticking up from a board by the door. He was dragged from his bed and through to the sitting room, to this chair.’ Sandford stepped across
the hallway. ‘The chair appears to have been dragged with weight in it, across to the edge of the rug. Maybe to give his assailant more room.’

The chair, with the remnants of Melvin’s body fluids, his skin, the scorch marks that blackened its bright-blue material, could be seen from the hallway. It could be seen from the front
door, so an extended tent across the door was more to hide the facts from public view than preserve evidence.

‘Was he keeping an eye on the door? Was he waiting for someone?’

Sandford shook his head.

‘Can’t answer that one. Victim’s legs were tied together. His arms were tied behind his back and the wrists pulled upwards, not secured but definitely with force. He was
periodically lifted, like this . . .’ Sandford went behind the chair to show Willis what he meant. ‘One of his shoulders had dislocated.’

‘It’s what we saw with Eddie Butcher: strappado torture.’

‘The killer went through the kitchen. I expect you saw the notes re his arsenal of home-made killing tools, torture from the kitchen. He even took time to sharpen the knives he found. He
concentrated on four key areas of the body to burn: the head and face, the genitals, the feet and the hands. In between doing that he made himself something to eat: cheese on toast.’ Sandford
held up a crime-scene brown paper bag and showed Willis the remnants of a slice of toast. ‘Here’s our DNA, I hope.’