Deadly Intent (39 page)

Phil and Langton went into the interview room. Silas Roach was sitting with his solicitor, Margery Patterson. He seemed nervous: his head twitched as he sat threading and rethreading his fingers. He repeated what had taken place on the night of Frank Brandon's murder. Langton let him talk, looking over his statement. Silas ended up swearing on his mother's life that it was the truth.

Langton spoke quietly. "So, let me just get this straight: you have admitted to dealing drugs from the squat on the Chalk Farm estate, but the gun—the Glock automatic—you say did not belong to you, but Delroy Planter."

"Yeah, but he didn't use it—he just had it for show, you know what I mean?"

"On this night," Langton continued, in the same quiet voice, "you have stated that Donny Petrozzo was there and that he was very agitated.You said he was high."

"Yeah, well—he was actin' crazy like."

Langton nodded, as if agreeing. He held the statement up in front of him. "Describe the door to me, would you, Silas?"

"What door? The front door?"

"No, the door to the room you say you were using inside the squat."

"Oh yeah, I understand. Well, it was a special door the lads fixed up. It had bolts across and we'd made a sort of grille in the middle of it; well, not the middle—up a bit."

"Like in the old speakeasies."

Silas was not sure what he meant but explained that sometimes when the dealers were passing gear over, the junkies could make a grab, or try to throw a punch, so the door was for the dealers' protection, not just from them, but also from their rival dealers, or from the police.

Langton smiled, nodding. "So there you are, working the deals, and you get a rap on the door. You say that Donny Petrozzo opened the grille, looked out, and then grabbed the Glock and opened fire."

"Yeah."

"Because he had seen someone he knew? Someone he was scared of? And he picks up Delroy's Glock, and fires at this person outside—he fires three rounds?"

"Yeah, that is exactly what he done; I think he said the guy was a cop."

Langton nodded, placing the statement down in front of him, touching the sides as if to make the three pages neat and tidy. "You say that Donny Petrozzo next opens the door, steps out, and fires another three shots into the man who was lying on the ground."

"Yeah."

"So, Donny Petrozzo has the Glock pistol in his hands. You say he then ran from the building—in fact, you say you all got out of there as fast as possible."

"Yeah, right, because I mean, what went down was crazy, understand me? Like, it was fucking bad, man."

Langton nodded. "You know Donny Petrozzo has been found murdered?"

"Yeah."

"How well did you know him?"

"Donny? Well, he was a good buyer, you know? He used to score from us all the time; always paid up, no trouble. Not heavy stuff; he was mostly dealing a few grams of cocaine to the blokes he drove around, some spliff, but never the hard stuff, mostly coke and some Ecstasy tabs, I think. Delroy knew him better'n me. Del always trusted him."

Langton placed down the photograph of Alexander Fitzpatrick. "What about this man?"

Silas shook his head.

Langton put the photograph back in the file. "You escaped via the back window?"

"Yeah."

"So you never went out the main door; never saw the dead man's face?"

"No, I just got the hell out."

Langton sniffed, took out his handkerchief and blew his nose, then folded it to place it back in his pocket. He stared at Silas for at least fifteen seconds before he said, so quietly that Phil could hardly hear,"You are fucking lying, son. Let me tell you something: Donny Petrozzo wouldn't worry about recognizing the man at the door, because he was working for him. He also knew he was an ex-cop, so he would have no reason to open fire."

Silas, having been gradually relaxed by Langton so that even his twitch had stopped, was now very tense and started to twist his neck.

Langton still kept his voice very soft. "I think what happened is
you
recognized Frank Brandon. You had been busted by him: he was on the Drug Squad when you were arrested and now here he was again. You were the one to go crazy—
you;
you panicked and you opened fire."

"No, that's not true, I didn't, I never shot him!"

"Silas, you arc going to go down for murder. You'll not get a few years for dealing this time. You shot a man in cold blood, fired into his face three times. An ex-cop, it's eighteen years at the very least."

"No, I swear before God, it wasn't me!"

"Who was it, then, Silas? Give it up, because we have your pal's statement that you, and you alone, used that Glock pistol; that you were high on crack cocaine. Donny Petrozzo wasn't even fucking there, was he?
Was he?"

"It wasn't me! Jesus Christ! It wasn't me that done him!"

Langton sipped from a beaker of water. "Next, I need to ask you about a secondhand car dealer: this man, his name is Stanley Leymore." Langton put down a photo of him. "You see, the reason I know you have been bullshitting me is because the same gun used to kill Frank Brandon"—Langton slapped down the photograph of Frank from his police ID—"also killed Stanley Leymore. Look at him."

"I never done that, I never done it."

Langton laughed. "Don't be dumb, Silas, you had the fucking gun when you were arrested! In your statement, you said that Donny Petrozzo went out of the room, then fired three more shots into this man as he lay 011 the floor. So did Donny hand the gun back to you whilst you were escaping out of the window? 'Here, Silas, you take the gun'? Or did he, as you say, run off with it? If he ran off
with it. how did it get back to you? Unless you also killed Donny Petrozzo? You see how this is building, Silas? You understand what we are going to charge you with?"

Silas kept on shaking his head. Langton placed down the photograph of Donny Petrozzo's body, bound in the plastic bin liners. "Donny Petrozzo." Next, he placed down the photograph of Stanley Leymore sitting on the toilet, dead, the bullet through his temple. "Stanley Leymore; same weapon, Silas."

Silas's eyes were wide, almost popping out of his head.

Lasdy, Langton laid out the picture of Frank Brandon's dead body, facedown in a pool of blood in the squat.

Silas started to whimper, sniffing. As the snot trickled down his nostril, he wiped it away with the back of his hand. "Honest to God, 1 never done them."

"Honest to God, Silas, you are going to go down for all three. Your pal has given it up: you had the Glock. Out of your skull, you just went crazy and opened fire."

"It wasn't me, it wasn't me!" Silas slumped forward, his head on his arms, as he started crying.

Langton looked at the tape recorder and gathered up his papers.

"You can have a five-minute break to talk to your solicitor, Mr. Roach, but when I come back, I suggest you start telling me the truth, because I'm losing patience."Just as Langton pushed back his chair, Silas grabbed at the photograph in front of him.

"I never done it—not to him or the other blokes, I never done it," he choked.

Langton gave a wide, openhanded gesture. "So tell me the truth. What did happen?"

Silas covered his face with his hands. "Ah shit, shit! It wasn't fucking me!"

It took half an hour for Silas to make a second statement. He and Delroy Planter were working the squat, and had been there for a few hours. Delroy had told him that Donny Petrozzo had been by earlier, and wanted to talk about a big deal. A friend of his had some very high-quality gear, and a lot of it; not heroin or cocaine, but a new drug, much more powerful, and one that Petrozzo knew they could get a lot of money for, from the kind of people that he scored for. Mixed with heroin, it was nicknamed "Polo" in the States. Neither of them had ever heard of it, and Delroy said that until he knew what it was, he wasn't going to mess with it. He also said that the kind of money Petrozzo was talking about was out of his league; he couldn't buy in, but he might be able to distribute, as he had a lot of guys he could bring in.

Petrozzo brought a vial of the drugs around for Delroy to test; he told them that he was getting a bit scared and he needed some cash. Silas was unsure how much money had changed hands, but was told that Stanley Leymore had the drugs at his garage. Both Silas and Delroy used Stanley to get their wheels. On the night Frank was murdered, Delroy had expected Donny to turn up; when he didn't, he became very agitated, as he was doing a lot of crack. When they got the knock on the door, Delroy

recognized Frank Brandon as a cop and shot him. When he opened the door, he got scared because there was another man there. He ran back into the room, put the silencer on the gun, and reopened the door, but the man had gone—so he fired three more shots into Frank Brandon. The two of them went out the back window, and drove to Stanley Leymore's garage. Delroy was crazy, and threatened to kill Stanley if he didn't give him the drugs that Petrozzo said he was holding. Stanley refused, so Delroy shot him and, after searching the garage, gave up. They tried to contact Petrozzo, but his mobile was dead and his wife didn't know where he was. The next thing they knew, the pair of them were busted and arrested.

Langton remained in the small interview room as Silas was led away to the cells and Margery Patterson left. "One down, one to go," he said quietly to Phil, who had not said one word during the entire interrogation. "Strange, isn't it? You first think we have this kingpin serial killer, wiping out everything and everyone in his way, and then it turns out to be two punks on a dirty crumbling estate, high on the stuff they're dealing to more part-crazed kids. Then they get gun happy and kill. Poor old Frank Brandon was a good guy; we still don't have the reason why he was at that shithole with Fitzpatrick—if that's who he was with."

"Maybe they were looking for Petrozzo?"

"Maybe." Langton nodded. "Question is, who killed Petrozzo?"

Sam Power popped his head around the door. "I got some fresh coffee for you. We're bringing up Delroy Planter from the cells. Might be a few minutes; his solicitor's not turned up yet."

"Thanks."

"You get a result?"

"Yep—and coffee sounds good." Langton had to grit his teeth to stand; he held on to the back of the chair for a few moments.

"You want it in here or in the incident room upstairs?"

"Need to stretch my legs and take a leak, but back in here's fine."

Phil watched Langton walk out. He was impressed, and somewhat self-conscious at how he had conducted his earlier interviews with Silas and Delroy. Langton was giving him a master class.

Langton returned to the interview room to wait for Delroy Planter.

He stood, leaning against the wall, using his BlackBerry. "Mrs. Julia Brandon has just turned up to be requestioned," he announced. "Should be interesting."

Phil looked up as the handcuffed Delroy Planter was pushed into the room. Langton gestured to the seat and then proceeded to read him his rights, as his solicitor sat, opening his briefcase. The tape was switched on and Langton pointed to the video recorder. He then poured a beaker of water for Delroy and filled his own, placing the water bottle down beside him. Phil passed him the files; then they all waited as Langton slowly read Delroy's previous statement. Then he put it to one side and stared hard at Delroy. He didn't look away; his eyes were dark and angry.

"We have a statement from your friend Silas Roach."

"Yeah, an' you got one from me an' all." Delroy leaned back and grinned; a gold tooth glinted on the front row of his teeth.

Langton sipped his water, placing the plastic beaker down carefully. Still, it left a small wet ring. "You are being charged with—"

He was interrupted. "Yeah, man, I know what I bein' charged with, and I put me hand up. I said it all when we was first brung in."

"You are now to be charged with the murder of Frank Brandon, and also with the murder of Stanley Leymore."

Delroy sprang to his feet, shouting that it was bullshit. His solicitor asked him to sit down, but he jumped up and down on the spot, accusing Langton of framing him. "Listen, man, I never done nothing!"

A uniformed officer waiting outside came in, and pushed Delroy back into his seat."Where you think I'm fucking going with these on?" He held up his handcuffed wrists.

"You'll be going down for eighteen, that's where you'll be going."

Delroy shook his head as Langton read sections from Silas Roach's statement. "He's a fucking dead man."

"So let me hear your side of it, Delroy. We know you lied about Donny Petrozzo being at the squat on the night of the shooting."

Eventually, Delroy began to talk. They gained more information about Petrozzo trying to make a deal, having been a regular buyer,

scoring from Delroy for a number of years. As Silas had said, Delroy claimed it was mostly small amounts of cocaine and hash, sometimes some tabs, but he was a good customer and always paid up front.