Over My Dead Body

Chapter 29

Six pips were followed by the news headlines, but neither of them was listening.

‘I don’t enjoy spying on a colleague,’ said Jackie. ‘Especially one I like and admire.’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ said William. ‘But when you’re your own worst enemy, you need friends.’

‘You’re still convinced he was involved in the Roach and Abbott killings?’

‘You have to admit,’ said William, ‘that his wife’s death gave him a pretty strong motive. Let’s just be thankful the Abbott/Roach file has been closed. But the Sleeman case hasn’t, so it’s important we try to stay one step ahead of Ross. And of Verenich too, for that matter.’

‘My latest intel on Clive Pugh might also interest you,’ said Jackie, as the two of them continued to stare out of the car window at a red door at the far end of the mews.

‘Enlighten me,’ said William, sounding like the commander.

‘I had a call from my new buddy in the Cape Town police department yesterday. He told me I’d got it completely wrong, and I needn’t worry about Mrs Pugh any longer.’

‘How come?’

‘Because her husband keeled over during dinner a couple of nights ago and died before the ambulance reached their hotel. At least we know Ross can’t have been involved in that one.’

‘So Pugh didn’t get his hands on her money after all.’

‘Now there’s the irony,’ said Jackie. ‘It seems that Mrs Pugh failed to mention to her latest husband that she’d been married twice before, and between them they’d bled her dry. She assumed that, as Pugh always paid the bills, he had to be a rich man. She was devastated to discover that he was also penniless. It turns out she can’t even afford to pay her hotel bill.’

‘The Mount Nelson doesn’t come cheap,’ said William.

‘How did you know where they were staying?’

‘Do the local police think Mrs Pugh might have been involved in her husband’s death?’ asked William, avoiding the question.

‘No, sir,’ said Jackie. ‘In fact, they’ve issued a statement confirming there were no suspicious circumstances, and allowed the bereaved widow to accompany the body back to England. Tourist class. So you’ll have to find me another impossible case to solve.’

‘Concentrate on this one,’ said William, as a light went on in Jo’s house, and others continued to go on and off during the next hour, but then William had learnt over the years that surveillance was a cat and mouse game and patience was the cheese in the trap.

They both listened to the seven o’clock news on the radio, and nothing had changed by the time the eight o’clock news followed an hour later. During that time the milk, the papers and the post were delivered, but the front door remained closed.

William was beginning to think that ‘the first day of the month’ might not have been as important a clue as one of Paul’s informants had suggested, until a black Toyota pulled up outside the house and parked on a double yellow line.

When the passenger door opened, neither of them needed an identikit picture to know who it was heading for the front door.

‘Christ, he’s built like a tank,’ said Jackie.

‘Six foot four, two hundred and twenty pounds, and he practically lives in the gym,’ said William, as the giant knocked on the door.

Verenich waited for a short time, casting an occasional glance up and down the mews, before knocking again. This time a little more firmly. A few moments later Ross appeared, dressed in a tracksuit.

‘Doesn’t look as if he’s planning to come in to work today,’ said Jackie, as Ross handed a thick wad of notes to Verenich, who took his time counting them.

‘I still intend to put a stop to whatever he does have planned,’ said William, as Verenich gave Ross what passed for a smile, pocketed the money and returned to the car.

William switched on a radio that connected him to the rest of the team.

‘Verenich’s car is heading towards the traffic lights at the junction with Merton Street. I’ll let you know which way he turns. Remember to keep your distance.’

‘Understood,’ said three alert voices, who had also been waiting impatiently to go to work since six o’clock that morning. William was about to follow the Toyota when Ross came running out of the house, jumped into his car and immediately drove off.

‘The mark is turning left,’ said William, ‘so he’s yours, Danny, and DI Hogan isn’t far behind. Keep me briefed, but ditch Verenich when he reaches his next customer. Paul will take over.’

‘Understood,’ said two voices, as the Toyota drove past a taxi that never picked up a paying passenger.

William smiled when he saw Ross turn left at the lights and continue to follow Verenich. ‘Constable Markham.’

‘Sir.’

‘He’s driving a dark blue Volkswagen...’

‘Clocked him, sir.’

Ross could see the Toyota up ahead, and tucked in behind a taxi. The traffic light at the next junction was green, but he wasn’t sure he would make it in time. He put his foot on the accelerator.

Verenich’s driver turned right and the taxi followed, but the lights began to change as Ross approached them. He drove straight through, only to be met by a policeman who stepped out into the road, raised the palm of his right hand and with an exaggerated wave of the arm indicated that Ross should pull into the kerb. As he came to a halt Ross voiced several Anglo-Saxon expletives behind the car’s closed windows.

The young officer walked slowly towards him, as Ross wound down the window, his engine still running.

‘How can I help you, constable?’ he asked, as Verenich disappeared around the next corner.

‘Do you realize, sir, that you just drove through a red light?’

‘I did nothing of the sort,’ said Ross, breaking a golden rule.

‘My colleague and I,’ said the constable, looking to his left, ‘witnessed you breaking Section 36(1) of the Road Traffic Act 1988. Could I see your driving licence please?’

Ross handed over his warrant card.

‘This is not your driving licence, sir,’ said the constable, handing it back.

‘I don’t have my licence with me.’

‘Then I’ll need to take down your particulars, sir,’ said the constable as he extracted a notebook and Biro from his top pocket.

‘Which I suspect you already know, constable,’ said Ross.

‘This shouldn’t take long,’ replied the officer, ignoring the comment.

‘How long?’ said Ross.

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

‘How long did they tell you to delay me?’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, sir.’

‘How long?’ repeated Ross.

‘Ten minutes, sir,’ admitted the constable.

Ross had to grudgingly admire Warwick. He might have had the face of a choirboy, but he didn’t take prisoners. He was beginning to believe he was, as Jackie had suggested, the natural successor to The Hawk. However, he still had a surprise in store for the Detective Chief Inspector before the day was out.

‘Can I go now you’ve served your purpose?’ Ross asked, innocently.

The constable checked his watch. ‘Yes, of course, sir. But perhaps you could drive more carefully in the future.’

Paul called in to report that Verenich had only had to clench a fist to ensure Sleeman’s second client coughed up.

‘Take advantage of it,’ said William. ‘Interview the man and see if you can get a statement from him that would stand up in court.’

‘On my way,’ said Paul.

‘The Toyota’s just driven past me,’ said Rebecca. ‘I’ll call back when he reaches his next collection point.’

‘What’s your position, Danny?’

‘I’ll take over from DC Pankhurst when he comes back out.’

‘What I can’t work out,’ said Jackie, as William switched off the radio, ‘is why they’re always at home when Verenich turns up.’

‘If they weren’t, it would be their wives who answered the door,’ said William, ‘and then they’d get grief from both sides.’

A red light began flashing. William flicked a switch.

‘Good morning, sir. It’s Inspector Watts of the drug squad. Do you have a moment?’

‘I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment, Inspector, so unless it’s important...’

‘It concerns a certain Darren Carter, sir, but I can call back later.’

‘You have my attention, Inspector.’

‘I arrested Carter last night while he was on duty outside the Eve Club, and charged him with possession and intent to supply three ounces of heroin, four wraps of top-grade cocaine and several bags of cannabis.’

‘He can’t be that stupid,’ said William.

‘He’s swearing blind we planted the gear on him, but we were given the tip-off by a member of the public, and we have it all on tape.’

‘Did the call come to you direct, Inspector, or from the 999 switchboard?’

‘Direct, sir.’ Watts paused. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I’ll tell you when I’ve listened to the tape. So, where’s Carter now?’

‘Locked up in the local nick, where he’ll stay until he appears in front of a magistrate later today and applies for bail.’

‘The Beak will tell him to get lost,’ said William.

‘I’d agree with you, sir, if he wasn’t being represented by Mr Booth Watson QC. I confess that came as a bit of a surprise.’

‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ said William. ‘Carter’s no more than a side-show. Booth Watson’s fees will be covered by a Mr Staples, the owner of the Eve Club, who’d lose his licence if his doorman was convicted of selling Class A drugs. Make sure you take every opportunity to refer to the defendant’s previous record, including his conviction for manslaughter, because I’m hoping to end up with two for the price of one. Keep me briefed.’

‘Will do, sir.’

‘Do you think it could have been Ross who planted the drugs on him?’ said Jackie, after he’d switched off the radio.

‘Not a risk he’d take,’ said William. ‘But he knows a dozen dips who could have carried out that job at the drop of a hat, quite literally.’

‘I just can’t believe...’ began Jackie.

‘You don’t want to believe,’ said William, as the radio crackled into life again.

‘DC Pankhurst, sir. Verenich’s just made his third collection. He had to force his way into the house, and he came out a few minutes later carrying a large television under one arm and a bulky plastic bag under the other. No sign of the previous owner.’

‘Pay him a visit, Rebecca, and try to charm him into making a statement. I need this case to be watertight. Danny, where is he now?’

‘On his way back to Sleeman’s office, with a large amount of dosh and a boot full of plunder. Should I head back to the Yard, sir?’

‘No, stay put,’ said William, ‘because you can be sure Verenich hasn’t yet made his final call of the day.’

‘What now, sir?’ asked Jackie.

‘We have to be patient, because the more vulnerable clients, the ones who can’t pay up, will come later in the day, when it’s dark and there’s less chance of any witnesses. We still have to gather enough evidence to make Booth Watson’s job as difficult as possible. And what’s more...’ he said as the red light on the radio began flashing once again.

A soft Irish lilt meant he didn’t have to ask who it was on the other end of the line.

‘I now know how to open the door in Faulkner’s study,’ said Detective Inspector Hogan. ‘I would have told you earlier, sir, if an overzealous young constable hadn’t held me up. Still, no doubt we’ll meet up at the cemetery after Verenich has made his last call of the day.’

‘Which cemetery?’ demanded William.

‘The one where you’ll find DC Pankhurst’s campaigning ancestor is no longer bothering the police,’ said Ross, before he severed the connection.

‘What the hell was that all about?’ asked Jackie.

‘He knows something we don’t,’ said William, as he flicked a switch. ‘Rebecca?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m with the gentleman you asked me to interview at his home in Kensington.’

‘Where is Emmeline Pankhurst buried?’

‘Brompton Cemetery. Why do you ask?’

‘Wrap up the interview and go straight there. Report back if you come across anything suspicious.’

‘What am I looking for?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted William.

‘Now I’m completely lost,’ said Jackie, as William switched off the radio.

‘It’s not difficult to stay a yard ahead of Sleeman and Verenich,’ he commented, ‘but it’s a damn sight harder keeping up with Ross.’

‘Particularly when he’s dealing with you, sir,’ said Jackie.

William was about to respond when Danny came back on the line.

‘He’s just made his fourth call, sir. After he left, Paul moved in to interview the client.’

‘Good. Stay on the line. There may well be a change of plan.’

Sleeman slipped out of his office soon after Verenich had left to make his final call. He would be passing through Swindon by the time the body was buried.

He walked for a couple of blocks before hailing a taxi and climbing into the back. ‘Euston,’ was all he said.

Once he’d been dropped off outside the station, he joined a queue in the booking hall and purchased a first-class sleeper to Edinburgh. Before he paid, he asked the woman behind the counter in a loud voice how she had the nerve to charge sixty-three pounds.

The man standing behind him witnessed the unpleasant altercation, but said nothing. Sleeman then made his way across to Platform 7, and was about to board the train when two police officers blocked his path and arrested him.

‘On what charge?’ he demanded.

‘Threatening a railway employee will be enough to be going on with, although I have a feeling there will be more to follow,’ said the commander, who couldn’t remember when he’d last arrested someone.

He reported back to DCI Warwick.

Two lines were going at once.

‘It’s DC Pankhurst, sir. There’s a recently dug grave at the back of the cemetery, which the chief gravedigger tells me he didn’t authorize.’

‘Stay out of sight,’ said William. ‘We’ll be with you shortly. Danny, where are you?’

‘Verenich has just turned up outside a house in Chiswick and is knocking on the door.’

‘Keep me briefed,’ said William. ‘The rest of you head for Brompton Cemetery in Kensington. Once you get there, make sure you keep out of sight, because Verenich won’t be far behind.’ He switched off the radio and said, ‘Let’s get moving.’

Jackie eased the gear lever into first and accelerated away.

‘I presume you know where you’re going,’ said William.

‘No, sir. But I’m hoping you do.’

Hiding ten plainclothes detectives in a cemetery didn’t prove difficult, especially when they were aided and abetted by the chief gravedigger. There were more than enough monuments, private vaults and large memorial piles to hide an army.

Once everyone was in place, the more difficult challenge was to remain silent. A sneeze at that time of night would have sounded like a volcano erupting. The silence was broken only when Danny called in.

‘Verenich has just come out of the house in Chiswick and right now he’s shoving a protesting client into the back of the Toyota. They should be with you in about twenty minutes. Just say the word, chief, and I’ll ram the bastard and then the boys can move in and arrest him.’

‘No,’ said William. ‘Stay put. If he spots you, the whole operation will be scuppered,’ he added as Jackie drove into the cemetery, turned off the headlights and tucked the car behind a clump of trees.

‘But if you’re wrong about where they’re taking him...’

‘That’s a risk I’m going to have to take,’ said William, reminding Danny why he’d never wanted to be promoted.

‘Maintain radio silence,’ was William’s next order.

As the minutes passed, William kept glancing at his watch. He still wasn’t certain if Ross was on the side of the angels who were currently surrounding him, or if he was somewhere else the other side of London, preparing a different burial of his own. Either way, he wouldn’t be satisfied with making an arrest while explaining to Verenich his right to remain silent.

William let out a long sigh of relief when he spotted a black Toyota entering the north end of the cemetery. No lights to guide the driver on a moonless night, but then he knew where he was going. Ten testosterone-filled young officers awaited his command, but William didn’t move until he saw the car pulling to a halt.

The back door was opened by the driver, while Verenich pulled his whimpering victim out and began dragging him towards an open grave.

‘Oh my God,’ said Jackie, ‘they’re going to bury him alive.’

William leapt out of the car and began running towards the grave, while ten officers appeared from every direction.

DS Adaja quickly overtook DCI Warwick and crash-tackled the driver, who’d dropped his spade and tried to make a run for it. Paul held him down long enough for two other officers to pin him to the ground, while DS Roycroft handcuffed him.

William kept heading towards Verenich, who hurled his screaming victim to one side and defiantly stood his ground.

Just as William was about to launch himself at Verenich a spade appeared out of the grave, and with a practised golfer’s swing it came crashing into Verenich’s ankles, causing him to drop on his knees. As he tried to get up, a second blow hit him full on the side of his face, and he toppled forward and fell head first into the grave. Ross raised the spade high above his head to administer the final blow, but William grabbed its shaft with both hands and was pulled into the grave, landing on top of Verenich.

Ross could only look on as a couple of officers unceremoniously yanked Verenich back out, laid him flat on the ground and handcuffed him. William then clambered out, still clutching the spade. He looked down at the prostrate body, relieved to see Verenich’s eyes flicker open and stare blankly back up at him.

DS Adaja informed the two prisoners that they were under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy to murder, and cautioned them before they were led away. As Rebecca tried to calm the traumatized victim, Ross drew William’s attention to three unmarked graves.

‘All in good time,’ said William, aware that he would need a court order to exhume the bodies, which he felt confident would give them all the evidence they needed to charge Verenich with murder and Sleeman with being an accessory.

Ross managed a curt nod, as the two prisoners were led away.

‘You should have let me kill him,’ he said.

William ignored the comment and simply asked, ‘Can I assume, Inspector, that your thirst for revenge has finally been quenched?’

‘No, you can’t, sir,’ said Ross. ‘Not while Faulkner is still alive.’

The Hawk, who was standing alone in a dark corner of the cemetery, had watched with interest as the scene unfolded. When the curtain finally came down, he realized he had two choices: he could either suspend DI Hogan pending a full inquiry, or recommend to the commissioner that he be awarded a second Queen’s Gallantry Medal. He didn’t need to toss a coin.