Dead of Winter (17 page)

‘I’m sorry, sir, but if I’d had my wits about me we could have nabbed this bloke. He took off right after he’d shot them. Ran along the bank to the steps, I’d guess.’ Billy pointed in the direction Sinclair had just come. We heard the shots. We should have grabbed him then and there.’

Sinclair had said nothing, but Billy could see he was paying attention.

The two bobbies I posted up on the street missed him, too. I don’t know how that happened, except they were reacting to a buzz bomb coming down, not to a police whistle. They must have thought anyone going by them was trying to get away from the explosion. And then there was the smoke and dust … clouds of it. I don’t want to lay any blame on them.’

Nor do I, Inspector,’ Sinclair had responded briskly. And you’re not to hold yourself responsible either. You’d just had a close call. I doubt you were thinking clearly. We’re not machines, any of us.’

I suppose not.’ Billy had been reluctant to agree. He still felt he’d come up short. ‘But it didn’t seem to bother
him
, did it – that bastard? The buzz bomb wasn’t part of his plan, but he went about his business just the same. Even took advantage of it, I reckon. He shot them just after the siren had sounded – when they must have been waiting like the rest of us to see what would happen next – and then afterwards, when we were trying to gather our wits, he finished the job. Didn’t blink an eyelid.’

‘You paint a disturbing picture,’ Sinclair had remarked drily.

His words returned to Billy now as he watched him slowly scan the room, his glance eventually coming to rest on the third body – that of Meeks – which was partially hidden by the burly figure of Dr Ransom, who knelt beside it peering closely at a wound in the dead man’s temple.

‘Chief Inspector… !’ Sensing Sinclair’s gaze on him, the pathologist looked round. A little late in the season to be out with a gun, wouldn’t you say, but a good bag nonetheless. It’s one corpse after another with you fellows these days. I’m tempted to remind you there’s a war on.’

‘Thank you, doctor.’ Billy could see his chief was not amused. ‘In the meantime, perhaps you could tell me something about the wounds?’

‘The wounds … ? Ransom pursed his lips.

‘And spare us your wit this once.’

The pathologist flushed. He peered at Sinclair from beneath his bushy eyebrows. ‘Well, they were caused by bullets, which is plain enough. Small calibre. From a pistol or revolver, I’d say. Each man was shot twice. First in the body – in the chest – and then in the head. At least, I assume so.’

‘You assume … ?’ The chief inspector scowled.

‘I mean, I assume that was the order in which the shots were fired. The ones to the head were all from close range – the powder burns are visible. It looks as though he put them down with body shots first, then gave them the
coup de grâce.’

‘And what do you deduce from that, doctor?’ Sinclair regarded him, head cocked to one side.

‘Why, the same as you, I dare say.’ Ransom shrugged. ‘What was done was quite deliberate. It was an execution, pure and simple.’

11

‘S
IR,
I
CAN
’
T EXPRESS
my concern about this case too strongly. It’s clear now that we’re dealing not only with an extraordinary situation, but with a very special kind of criminal. Unusual measures are called for; unusual arrangements.’

Sinclair paced the carpet in front of Sir Wilfred Bennett’s desk. Detained at the crime scene in Wapping until after midnight, he had arrived at his office that morning later than usual to find a message on his desk saying the assistant commissioner wished to see him at once.

‘I’m not trying to “commandeer” this investigation. Styles and his team are doing all that can be done. But there’s a degree of complexity here that can’t be dealt with by the detectives on the ground, who in any case have enough to occupy them. I can’t say yet how far this inquiry will stretch, but there are already strong indications that the answers we’re looking for won’t be found here. In England. An overall view of the situation is required, and with all due modesty I feel I’m the person best placed to supply it.’

The chief inspector paused, as much to assess how well his argument was going down with his superior as to catch his breath. He had found Bennett in a testy mood, quietly fuming over the fact that he seemed to be the last man at the Yard to have learned about what he was pleased to term this massacre in our own back yard’.

‘Three men shot dead. Our officers put at risk. Yet if it wasn’t for my secretary I’d still be in ignorance of the whole affair. Miss Ellis heard about it in the canteen. I had to ring down to registry for the detectives’ report. It seems that no one could take the trouble last night to pick up a telephone and let me know what was going on.’

This last shaft had been aimed at Sinclair, whose attempts at an apology so far had fallen on deaf ears.

‘I’m not trying to excuse myself, sir, but when I heard about the flying bomb I rushed over there. I was concerned for our men. I didn’t know if any of them had been hurt. By the time I got to Wapping and discovered what had happened it was already too late to ring you. I thought it best to wait until morning when the situation would be clearer.’

‘By the time you got to Wapping …’

Bennett glared at him. It had not escaped his notice that exposure once more to the raw surroundings of a murder scene seemed to have had an invigorating effect on his old friend and colleague. Despite his long night, the chief inspector’s eye was noticeably brighter that morning, his step more lively. In fact, observing the way he continued to pace up and down, Sir Wilfred was tempted to enquire innocently if his gout had yielded to some miracle cure.

‘This is precisely the point, Angus. You’re effectively my deputy, and it was made quite clear when you took the position that you were not to involve yourself in actual investigations. You were to exercise a purely supervisory role. Now I find you’ve been in the thick of it. And, as I say, too busy to carry out your primary duty which is to keep me informed at all times.’

The assistant commissioner ended his harangue with a muttered phrase inaudible to his listener and then turned in his swivel chair to stare out of the window. But he was unable to maintain his air of displeasure. Before long curiosity got the better of him and he swung back.

‘A special kind of criminal, you say? What do you mean, exactly?’

‘I mean a man who doesn’t fit into any of the categories we’re familiar with. Before last night all we could say about him with any certainty was that he was a cold-blooded killer; now we know he’s a thief as well. But he still doesn’t match the profile of any criminal we have on record. Not remotely. He seems to have appeared suddenly from nowhere, but that can’t be so. He must have a past.’

Bennett grunted. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

‘Let me see if I’ve got it straight … This whole business began with the murder of that Polish girl – am I right?’

The chief inspector nodded.

‘Then there was the French prostitute … she was his next victim. Or so we assume?’

‘Correct.’

‘Now you’re telling me he’s killed three men, one of them a notorious fence, shot them in cold blood, and in all probability stolen a large amount of money?’

‘That’s the sum of it, sir.’

‘Then I have only one question.’ Bennett eyed his colleague. Are you absolutely certain, beyond any reasonable doubt, that it’s the same man?’

Sinclair let out a long sigh. His smile was rueful.

‘Until last night, I’m not sure how I would have answered that,’ he admitted. ‘Starting with the murder of Rosa Nowak, we’ve had difficulty making any sense of this. But things have changed since we last spoke. Clever as this man is, he seems to have made a mistake and it’s given us a lead of sorts, a foothold anyway. You recall the name Alfie Meeks, I’m sure?’

‘Certainly.’ Bennett nodded. ‘He came to your notice because he’d been looking for that French girl. I see he was among last night’s victims.’ He gestured towards the typed report lying on his desk.

‘It’s become clear now this man hired Meeks. We believe he was paid to seek out Florrie Desmoulins, for one thing, and to set up last night’s meeting for another.’

‘You say “clear”. But isn’t this merely supposition? How can you be so sure?’

Sinclair had paused in his pacing, and before replying he seated himself in a chair in front of Bennett’s desk.

‘There’s been a new development, sir. It has to do with a sum of money that was found in Meeks’s pocket. Sixty pounds, to be exact. The bodies weren’t searched until quite late, after the pathologist had done with them, which explains why it’s not in the report you have.’

‘Sixty pounds?’ Bennett’s eyebrows went up. ‘A tidy sum. But why is it significant?’

‘Because rightly speaking, it shouldn’t have been there. Not in Alfie Meeks’s pocket. We already knew from the enquiries we’ve been making that when he came out of prison three months ago he was flat broke. Since then he’s been scratching a living out of a small stall he set up in an open-air market at Southwark. All he sold were cigarettes and the odd bottle of spirits: sixty pounds would have seemed like a fortune to him.’

‘And you think it was payment for services rendered?’

‘It’s hard to imagine where else it could have come from.’ Sinclair frowned. ‘But you have to put all the pieces together, sir, that’s when the picture becomes clear.’

He shifted in his chair.

‘Meeks abandons his stall without warning and next thing he turns up in Soho looking for Florrie Desmoulins, whom he doesn’t know, incidentally, not even by name. A day or two later Florrie is murdered and when we start searching for Meeks we hear he’s been spotted in Holborn, not far from Leather Lane, which is where Solly Silverman had his jeweller’s shop. Styles and Grace are there now and I’ll wager they’ll be able to confirm that Meeks paid a call on Solly not long ago. And since we know for a fact he rented that room at the White Boar it’s reasonable to assume he also set up the meeting that took place last night. On instructions. Because whatever else, one thing at least is certain: Meeks wasn’t acting on his own account. He was being used. First used, then discarded.’

Bennett had listened with a sombre expression, and when he spoke finally it was with a heavy frown.

‘You make a good case, Angus, and I won’t quibble with you. What was it you called this man – a special kind of criminal? I can think of some other names that might fit better, and I’ve no doubt some of them will occur to the popular press once they get hold of this, which will be soon enough. They like nothing better than a break from war news. Let’s see … how does the Grim Reaper strike you?’

‘As only too apt, sir.’ Sinclair smiled wanly. If there’s one common note in all these killings it’s the apparent ease with which this man deals with his victims. He seems born to it. In all my years I’ve never come across a criminal quite like him. Let me give you an example of what he’s capable of; you can judge for yourself.’

The chief inspector’s smile had vanished while he was speaking; a scowl had taken its place.

‘The third man shot last night was Benny Costa. I take it you’re familiar with the name?’

‘Certainly.’ Bennett nodded. ‘We put him away twice, didn’t we? The last time for assault with a deadly weapon. It should have been attempted murder, but the prosecution felt their case wouldn’t hold up.’

‘Precisely. He was a dangerous individual: a strong-arm man, one of the few who was ready to use a gun if necessary. Among other things, he was often employed as a bodyguard – we know for a fact that Silverman used him in the past – and his reputation went before him. So long as you had Benny at your side with his sawn-off you had nothing to worry about. That’s how the legend went.’

‘I remember now. It was always a shotgun.’

‘Well, he had it with him last night, Costa did – he was lying on it – and he must have been ready to use it, because when they finally moved the bodies to take them away they found that not only was it loaded, no surprise there, but Benny had it cocked and his finger was on the trigger. He was primed, on his guard, but it didn’t do him any good. This man took him down – took
Benny Costa
down – and that tells us something.’

Bennett had been studying the ceiling while he listened. Now he shrugged.

‘Well, so much for Costa. But I was surprised to see Silverman’s name in the report. I was under the impression he’d retired – from that line of business, at least.’

‘So he had, sir. And that’s another mystery we’ll have to unravel. As far as we know Solly hasn’t handled stolen goods for the past five years. The last job he was involved with was that burglary at Staines Manor just before the war: the Countess of Stanmore’s jewels. We almost had him then, but a key witness died on us and he got away with it. However, it seemed to have put a scare in him and his name hasn’t come up since.’

‘So why did Meeks approach
him?
Why not some other fence?’

‘I’ve no idea, and unfortunately it’s too late to ask him. But he may simply have been following orders.’

‘You mean this man, whoever he is, gave him Silverman’s name?’

‘It’s the likeliest answer, and if that’s what happened it would tie in with a theory I have – well, actually it’s an idea of Madden’s – that this killer may have been active abroad. In Europe. He thinks that whatever prompted this man to kill Rosa Nowak may have occurred sometime in the past.’

‘On the Continent. Before she arrived here … yes, I get your drift, Angus …’ Bennett’s frown deepened. ‘But how does that tie in with Silverman?’

‘Ah, well, this is where my theory turns into guesswork, but we know Solly had a partner abroad. It was one of the reasons why we were never able to charge him: he didn’t sell any of the stuff he fenced in this country. So if this man does have European connections he might have got hold of Silverman’s name that way.’

‘Yes, but since he wasn’t active any longer – Silverman, I mean – what was he doing in Wapping last night?’

‘Again, I can only guess.’ Sinclair shrugged. ‘But off the top of my head I’d say he was made an offer he couldn’t refuse. And since it’s Silverman we’re talking about, I’ll stick my neck out and say it involved sparklers – diamonds most likely. They were always his speciality; and he did have a jeweller’s loupe on him.’ The chief inspector frowned. ‘The trouble is, there’s nothing on the current list of stolen gems, nor in the recent past, that fits the bill. Nothing that would get Solly Silverman out of his slippers and down to Wapping on a freezing winter’s night. So what was the bait, I wonder – because that’s what it was, I’m convinced. This man wanted to lure Solly down there with a large sum of money and he used Alfie Meeks for the purpose.’