Denial of Murder (24 page)

‘Again,' Yewdall said softly, ‘I am so very sorry.'

‘So that was what I was running from, and when you leaned forward to tie your shoelace your sudden rush of woman's intuition was spot on.' Lysandra Smith once again looked down at the carpet as she spoke. ‘So that was what I was experiencing, a neat, well-scrubbed schoolgirl, smart in her school uniform, doing my homework and then servicing my father when he came into my room at night. If I didn't do it on the way home then I'd do it at home. So when Gordon offered me emotionally driven sex … as an expression of mutual love … and he offered companionship and a way out of London, well, then of course I accepted. That's why I ran away with him, and you see, Penny, that explains my father's anger towards Gordon. It wasn't the anger of a father towards the man that abducted and raped his daughter; it was the anger of one man towards another man who had stolen his sexual plaything. Nobody steals from Tony “the Pestilence” Smith. So when I returned home, after my parents had convinced the authorities that I'd be safe, my father said … “we'd better give you something to make sure you don't run away again”, and that was Pancras.'

‘Oh …' Yewdall groaned, ‘this just keeps getting worse … you mean that Pancras …'

‘Yes. Pancras is my son,' Lysandra Smith spoke firmly and clearly, ‘and he's also my brother. My father is Pancras's grandfather, and he's also Pancras's father.'

‘Does Pancras know?' Yewdall asked.

‘No.' Smith shook her head. ‘No … and he must never, ever find out.'

‘The birth certificate,' Yewdall queried, ‘what does it say on the birth certificate?'

‘Father unknown.' Lysandra Smith inhaled and then exhaled as she spoke. ‘He'll find out that Elliot Reiss is not his real father soon enough but he must never know who is actually his blood father … never. It will destroy him. He'll ask me and I don't know what I am going to tell him.'

‘I see,' Yewdall replied calmly. ‘Well, we won't tell him.'

‘Thanks.' Smith forced a smile.

‘But it might come out,' Yewdall advised, ‘you have to be prepared for that.'

‘I know,' Smith replied. ‘I'm so dreading that it might happen. The resemblance between them is very strong, they do look like father and son … but my father always says it's the family genes, it's because he's Pancras's grandfather and so far Pancras has believed that to be the case,' Smith glanced up at the ceiling, ‘but … what's that saying? “The truth will out”. I am so dreading the truth coming out, so, so dreading it.'

‘Do you know what happened between Gordon Cogan and the girl he was convicted of murdering?' Yewdall asked.

‘No … sorry …' Lysandra Smith once again looked at the carpet, ‘I don't. Like I said, Gordon decided that we had no future as a couple once he'd lost everything and I never saw him again after that … but Gordon strangle someone …? No … never, not Gordon, not ever, ever, ever … not in a million years, even when he was in the drink. When he was half cut he just got more affable, not violent. I don't have any proof but I just know whoever it was that strangled that poor girl wasn't Gordon Cogan. What was her name?'

‘Janet Frost,' Penny Yewdall said. ‘Her name was Janet Frost.'

‘Yes,' Lysandra Smith smiled, ‘yes, that's it. But I tell you; whoever it was that strangled her, it wasn't Gordon Cogan.'

‘What was your father's reaction to Gordon Cogan's conviction for Janet Frost's murder?' Yewdall asked. ‘Do you recall?'

‘I recall it very well. Like it was yesterday.' Lysandra Smith flicked the ash from her roll-up cigarette into the ashtray. ‘He was well pleased. He was very well pleased; he said, “At least he's going down for a decent old time now, the little toe-rag … no Father Christmas for a judge this time, not for him”.'

‘Do you know if your father had any involvement with the murder of Janet Frost?' Yewdall asked. ‘I am just fishing, you understand.'

Lysandra Smith glanced at Penny Yewdall and as she did so her face paled. ‘I never knew of any involvement but I was kept well out of the loop,' she replied softly. ‘Why? Do you think … he might have had some part in it? Frankly I wouldn't put it past him.'

‘As I say,' Yewdall said, ‘just curious.'

‘I see. Well, as I said, he seemed pleased when Gordon was sent down but he is capable of fitting someone up, well capable … But after the trial he just seemed to go about running his empire and he never mentioned Gordon again,' Lysandra Smith explained. ‘He lost all interest in me as soon as I fell pregnant with Pancras but he kept me in the house until it was too late for me to have a termination … he did that.'

‘What about your sisters?' Yewdall asked. ‘What was your father's attitude to them?'

‘What sisters?' Lysandra Smith shot an alarmed glance at Yewdall. ‘I don't have any sisters … none that I know of, anyway.'

‘Oh …' Yewdall expressed surprise. ‘At Gordon's trial … Gordon's brother, Derek, told us that your family, your father, mother and your brothers and sisters and cousins all sat in the public gallery. Derek Cogan described them as a really heavy crew … your sisters were hard-faced, cold-eyed women, he said, and your brothers …'

‘Hey!' Lysandra Smith held up her hand. ‘I have no brothers or sisters.'

‘You don't?' Penny Yewdall couldn't contain her surprise. ‘But …'

‘No …' Lysandra Smith smiled, ‘there was only me and my father and mother. Those people in the public gallery at Gordon's trial were street girls hired by my father to look the part, and all the men were thugs in my dad's firm … he probably wanted to intimidate the judge into passing a heavy sentence. He didn't get what he wanted there …'

‘I see,' Penny Yewdall said. ‘I see.'

‘Well, I'm glad you see,' Lysandra Smith replied with an angry tone of voice, ‘because quite frankly I don't see. I don't see Gordon murdering that girl, Janet Frost. I don't see Gordon getting any justice at all, but what I do see is my father getting away with everything … like he always does.'

‘Well … if you feel like that you could always change your mind about keeping Pancras in the dark,' Yewdall suggested. ‘We could bring a solid case against your father for raping you. We can prove your age and Pancras's age and show that you were still just fifteen when your father impregnated you … his DNA will confirm him as being the biological father of Pancras … that could, in fact it would, put your father away for a very long time.'

‘No …' Lysandra Smith shook her head, ‘I can't ever let Pancras know who his father is … and also my father has a tendency to murder anyone who is planning to give evidence against him … so I believe … he'll stop at nothing to ensure he keeps his liberty … and I mean nothing, even if it means his only daughter goes missing, permanently so … if he thinks I am about to give evidence, I will vanish … maybe even Pancras too.'

‘Bad situation.' Yewdall sighed.

‘Couldn't be much worse; it's a real mess,' Lysandra Smith forced a smile, ‘but I can at least thank my father for a classy name and a fine, handsome son.'

Again, Yewdall enjoyed Lysandra Smith's dry humour. ‘Will you tell Pancras what your father did to you?'

‘Yes, I'll do that,' Lysandra Smith sighed and then nodded. ‘In fact, I'll do that later on today when he returns home from wherever he is. Pancras is always asking me the reason why I don't visit my father, why I refuse to go near that house in Southgate. He's wise beyond his fifteen years and he's old enough to understand, so yes, I'll tell him, but I'll stop short of telling him who his father is. I can't ever tell him that.'

The two uniformed police officers approached the door in the high-rise tower block with extreme caution. They instantly saw that it had been kicked off its hinges.

‘Heavy crew,' the first officer commented.

‘Seems so,' the second officer replied. ‘They certainly know how to kick a door in.'

‘Police!' The first officer called out as he entered the flat, followed by the second officer. ‘Police! Is anyone here …?'

The two officers noted signs of violence; upturned and smashed furniture, broken mirrors and panes of glass.

‘Police!' The first officer called out again. ‘Police!'

The officers found the young woman in the bedroom. She was on the floor beside the bed, dressed in a man's shirt, frozen with fear.

‘All right, love.' The first officer switched on his radio. He spoke into it. ‘Hello … control … we're here now … one female victim. Can you send an ambulance, please? No other victim found yet, but we'll make a thorough search. There are signs of extreme violence … it's a crime scene all right. Yes, sir … no obvious injuries but in a state of shock. Very good, sir.' The officer replaced the handset. He turned to his colleague and said, ‘The ambulance is on its way. We are to search the flat for any other victims and await CID and the SOCO team.'

‘You'll be all right now, pet.' The second officer addressed the woman though he doubted she heard him. ‘We'll soon have you in hospital, get you looked at.'

Four hours later the woman who had been found in a shocked and dazed state on the floor of her bedroom was sitting, fully clothed, sipping sweetened hot tea in an interview suite in New Scotland Yard. She had been prescribed a mild sedative but she proved able and willing to talk to Harry Vicary and Penny Yewdall.

‘So why the VIP treatment?' the woman asked.

‘You are Bernadette Bailey?' Vicary asked.

‘Yes, that's me.' Bernadette Bailey was a tall woman with a thin figure and long black hair.

‘You were flagged up as being of interest to us,' Vicary replied.

‘Well, your old wires are crossed, my old china, 'cos this filly has not done nothing the police would be interested in, especially not New Scotland Yard.'

‘No crossing of wires,' Harry Vicary replied calmly, ‘our computer made an interesting sound when your local nick placed a notification on the system that they had responded to a three-nines call from a member of the public reporting your front door had been kicked in … and you are of interest because you are on record as being the partner of Davy “the Cobbler” Bootmaker. We're looking for him, you see … he's not in his drum and we want a chat with him.'

‘No, he moved into mine a few weeks ago. So what do you want him for?'

Penny Yewdall noted a lack of concern on Bernadette Bailey's face about Davy Bootmaker.

‘Well,' Vicary replied, ‘let's just say he left his fingerprints in a cottage in Hampshire.'

‘So that's what happened.' Bernadette Bailey continued to show no concern for Bootmaker. ‘I did wonder what they meant. He messed up somehow but I don't know how. I don't know the details. He works for Pestilence Smith … and this morning my door got kicked in by a team of Pestilence Smith's soldiers. They said to him, “Pestilence wants you … and he's not a happy man. He wants you because you messed up, Davy”. He put up a real fight but they carried him away anyway. I kept out of it. As they were leaving one of the soldiers turned to me and said “You're a sensible girl, you know the rule”. Then he put his finger to his lips and drew it across his throat. So I nodded. So I saw nothing, I will say nothing.'

‘But you're here,' Vicary smiled, ‘and you've just told us what happened. You are saying something.'

‘Yes, but I won't be signing no statements. I won't be standing up in no court. I won't be giving no evidence.' Bernadette spoke firmly. ‘I won't be skipping that old rope. But Pestilence has him.'

‘You're not frightened for his safety?' Yewdall asked. ‘You don't seem to be very concerned about him?'

‘That's because I am not concerned.' Bernadette Bailey sipped the tea. ‘Davy Bootmaker is a low-life villain. I'm still in my twenties and I want out of his world and this is the “out” I've been waiting for.'

‘You reckon?' Vicary asked.

‘Definitely.' Bernadette Bailey held eye contact with Vicary. ‘Definitely. Definitely. Definitely. Even if Pestilence lets him live he won't ever walk properly again … it all depends on how badly he messed up. So one way or the other I'm out of it. No more Davy Bootmaker for this filly. Not ever … I'm a free filly now.'

‘Do you know where Pestilence's soldiers took Davy?' Vicary asked.

‘No. It won't be to his house, though,' Bailey replied, offhandedly, ‘I can tell you that for nothing.'

‘We assumed that,' Harry Vicary replied dryly.

‘Pestilence,' Bernadette Bailey put the plastic cup down on the low table which stood in front of the chair in which she sat, ‘has got buildings all over the place which he uses to store stuff … but you know, there is one Davy told me about.' Bailey raised a long, bony finger. ‘It's one he keeps clear of stuff so he can use it to give someone a slap. It's in the East End.'

‘That's helpful,' Vicary sighed, ‘the East End is a big place. Do you know where?'

‘Well, it's all I know, innit?' Bailey protested. ‘I'm trying to help all I can. Can I have a fag? I need a smoke. Have you got a fag?'

‘No,' Vicary replied firmly, ‘and you can't smoke in public buildings anymore. It's been like that for a few years.' Vicary paused and then he asked, ‘Do you know any of the men who work for Pestilence Smith?'

‘Some … mostly by sight,' Bailey replied sullenly.

‘We're also looking for a man called Larry Ryecroft,' Vicary said.

‘Now him I do know.' Again Bernadette Bailey raised a long, bony finger. ‘Him and Davy get teamed up from time to time. In fact, Davy and Larry did the job together, last weekend … the one that Davy messed up.'