Blood Brothers (11 page)

‘Not one of your associates, then?’ Copeland asked.

‘Certainly not,’ Robertson said. ‘You could argue that not all my business dealings are lily-white – some people do – but Harry here will tell you that I don’t go in for that sort of unpleasantness.’ He gave Barnard a broad wink. ‘I’m not a killer, or someone who tortures people, whatever my brother allegedly gets up to. I have a position to maintain doing my charity work. You should know all about that if you’re going to be working in Soho for very long, Mr Copeland. You should have done your homework. I have friends in high places.’

‘A bit different from your brother Georgie then? Or so you say,’ Copeland sneered, his colour high, his temper also only just under control.

Barnard could feel the tension between the two men rising far faster than he liked or had anticipated.

‘My brother Georgie is a bit of a psycho,’ Robertson snapped back. ‘I’m glad to see the back of him. He’s been a bloody embarrassment to me for years, if you want the honest truth. In fact since we were kids, as Harry here knows. He knew he was an evil little beggar when he was ten years old. Specialized in killing old ladies’ cats.’

Copeland glanced at Barnard who shrugged. ‘True enough,’ he said, annoyed that Ray had dragged him into the conversation that way.

‘So if he’s not one of yours, this unidentified corpse, do you have any idea who our victim might have been working for?’ Copeland went on relentlessly. ‘Or who he might have annoyed? He must have been well into something to have been treated like that. Have you heard anything of that sort on your very efficient grapevine?’

‘No I haven’t,’ Robertson said. ‘This is a very big city and I don’t have a finger in every pie.’

He didn’t add more’s the pity, though Barnard could see it was on the tip of his tongue. Ray, he thought, was too ambitious for his own good these days.

‘Someone planned the disposal of that body very carefully,’ Copeland persisted. ‘It wasn’t just a random street killing. And I’m told you’ve been having chats with Reg Smith recently so don’t play the innocent with me. It won’t wash.’ Robertson glanced at Barnard angrily but did not respond to Copeland’s charge.

Barnard shook his head almost imperceptibly, careful not to put too much on Copeland’s recorder, but his reticence did not seem to improve Robertson’s temper.

‘It was pure chance that this poor beggar didn’t disappear under concrete before anyone noticed he was there, Ray,’ Barnard put in, trying to get the temperature down. ‘Someone knew that was going to happen that morning and managed to get on to the site without security seeing anything amiss. Any ideas on that at all?’

Robertson focused again on Harry Barnard, but there was no warmth in his eyes now. ‘You know as well as I do that there are players who wouldn’t blink at murder if they were crossed,’ Robertson said. ‘You don’t need me to spell it out. And I won’t. Just leave me out of it. I don’t know who your effing victim is and I don’t know who might have killed him. I just want to make it very clear that it’s nothing to do with me. I’ve got another boxing gala at the planning stage and I don’t want my name dragged through the mud when I’m sending invitations out to my contacts in high places. I’ve a reputation to keep up.’

And that, Barnard thought with a faint smile, was what Ray Robertson truly believed.

‘You don’t think that the charges against your brother aren’t going to do that anyway?’ Copeland asked incredulously. ‘You reckon you can cut yourself off from all that? Pull the other one.’

Robertson’s face darkened again and he clenched his fists. ‘Get this right,’ he spat at Copeland. ‘I won’t be dragged into the mud by that bastard Georgie. Your job is to put him away for life. If I had my way I’d see him hang. It’s a great shame they aren’t going to do that any more. Now get out of here the pair of you before I really lose my temper.’

Barnard smiled again faintly as Copeland got reluctantly to his feet. ‘I reckon we’ll see you again, Mr Robertson,’ he said.

‘I bloody well hope not,’ Robertson said, pulling out another cigar from his desk drawer and making great play of lighting it as they made their way to the door.

‘Don’t go away without telling us,’ Copeland flung over his shoulder, as Robertson puffed a cloud of aromatic smoke in their direction. ‘We don’t want to have to track you down in Spain or anywhere like that. It’s becoming a favourite hidey-hole these days but I don’t think you’d like it. I don’t think the climate would suit.’

Robertson just scowled at that and said nothing.

Barnard was sure he would be hearing from Ray later and he would vent his spleen then. But, he thought, there was absolutely nothing he was going to be able to do to even slow Copeland down, let alone stop him in his tracks. That way lay professional suicide.

The two detectives walked slowly back to the nick together but said little.

‘He’s a bloody con man,’ Copeland offered as they walked past the desk sergeant and made their way back to CID. ‘Thinks he’s a bloody philanthropist of some sort with one hand while he rakes in protection money with the other. I’ll put him away for something while I’m here, you see if I don’t. If I get him in a cell he won’t be so cocky, you’ll see.’

And that, Barnard thought, sounded more like a promise than a threat.

DS Vic Copeland did not waste much time at his desk. Barnard watched with some anxiety as he marched out and headed in the direction of DCI Keith Jackson’s office. Copeland banged on the DCI’s door, putting his head around before being invited in.

‘Thought I’d better report back, guv,’ Copeland said, flinging himself into a chair, to the DCI’s obvious irritation.

‘On what exactly, sergeant?’ Jackson snapped.

‘I’ve just got back from a chat with Harry Barnard’s old mate Ray Robertson. Softly softly’s not in it with those two.’

‘That’s common knowledge,’ Jackson said. ‘Did you actually find out anything we didn’t know already? What’s Robertson got to say for himself?’

‘He swears he knows nothing about the body at Tottenham Court Road,’ Copeland said. ‘And so, incidentally, does Reg Smith. We did a quick trip to see him this morning. Anyway, Robertson swears he doesn’t know who it is or who might have dumped it there. Squeaky clean, he claims and Barnard did damn all to push him. I thought I might haul him in for a cosy chat here, without Flash Harry. What do you think, guv?’

‘I think it’s a bit early for that,’ Jackson said. ‘You said you were going to keep an eye on Barnard first anyway. Has that come to anything?’

‘I followed him this morning as he was cruising around Soho. Nothing unusual. If he was on the take, which I guess he was, it was all very discreet. We’ll have to set some sort of a trap if we’re to catch him bang to rights. I’ll work something out on that. The only odd thing he got up to was a trip to the queer pub. He’s not that way inclined, is he?’

‘I think you can rule that out,’ Jackson said with distaste. ‘There’s not much doubt he’s a lady’s man.’

‘Is he on the square, by the way? If he and Robertson are in the same lodge that could explain a lot of what’s going on between those two. You know how it works.’

‘Barnard’s certainly not a mason,’ Jackson said. ‘I know exactly who is and who isn’t in my nick. Like you, most are, but not Harry Barnard.’

‘It was just another thought,’ Copeland said. ‘I like to know who I’m dealing with. I certainly saw him chatting up that old queen who flounces around like a pantomime dame. God knows what they were talking about. I only got a glimpse of them. I didn’t go in. They’d have spotted me. In any case the only way I like to go into that place is with a squad of uniforms ready to give them a good seeing to.’

‘I’ll think about that,’ Jackson said.

‘I could pull the old queer in by himself? Give his bollocks a twist and find out what Barnard was chatting him up for? We might get something out of it.’

‘Not yet, not yet,’ Jackson said. ‘You’ve only been here five minutes. Take it a step at a time and we’ve a much better chance of hanging Barnard out to dry. That’s what AC Amis wants, as I understand it. We know he’s been a mate of Robertson’s for years. There’s no way he hasn’t been involved in something and this murder gives us an opportunity to pin them both down. There are other fish in the sea Mr Amis wants hauled out but Robertson and Barnard are target number one. So take your time. You can suss out the queer pub yourself if you like, see what you can turn up there. But keep a cool head and clean hands for the moment. This is too important to rush. And don’t forget to have a look at the Maltese, just in case we can’t prove the man without his fingers and toes is one of Robertson’s.’

‘Right, guv,’ Copeland said, though he did not hide his disgruntlement. ‘But in my experience you can prove pretty well anything you want if you really try.’

Kate met Harry Barnard after work in the Blue Lagoon for a coffee and she could see the anxiety in his face.

‘You don’t look as if you’ve had a very good day,’ she said as he put a cappuccino in front of her.

He nodded bleakly. ‘It started off badly and got steadily worse,’ he said. ‘Vic Copeland is on some sort of mission and I’m damn sure he has me in his sights as well as Ray Robertson.’ He told her about the two sergeants’ uncomfortable interview with the club owner and then the newcomer’s threat to take Ray in for questioning. ‘As far as I can see there’s absolutely no evidence to link Ray with the murder victim but that doesn’t seem to bother Copeland one bit.’

‘Carter Price would be very interested in all this,’ Kate said. ‘Shall I tell him?’

Barnard shuddered slightly. ‘I think that would do more harm than good,’ he said. ‘How are you getting on with Price, anyway? I had a nosy around with some contacts in Fleet Street and I didn’t much like what I heard. He’s got a lot of enemies, even on his own paper. And the press office at the Yard hate his guts.’

‘If he’s doing his job properly you’d expect that,’ Kate said. ‘Ray’s not exactly an innocent is he? I know I’ve good reason to be grateful to him but he’s still a gangster. If you did your job properly you’d probably want him in a cell too.’ It was as critical as she had ever been about his link to Ray Robertson and she knew she was taking a risk.

Barnard flushed and stirred his coffee hard but refused to respond. ‘Price has a reputation with the ladies,’ he said.

Kate flushed in her turn. ‘I’ve told you. I’m working with him. That’s all.’

‘OK, OK,’ Barnard said. ‘Just be careful, Kate, that’s all I’m really saying. Trouble seems to follow you around and Carter Price is a maverick. Why won’t the
Globe
provide him with a photographer if he’s working on a legitimate story for them? I don’t understand what’s going on there at all.’

‘He’s not very explicit, but I think he has some sort of feud with the picture editor. The picture man certainly wasn’t very friendly when Carter took me round the building. Not very friendly at all.’

‘Well, be careful, Kate. That’s all I’m saying.’ Barnard put a hand over hers. ‘I do care about you, you know.’

She smiled faintly. ‘What you really mean is don’t go to bed with Carter Price,’ she said. ‘I think I can guarantee you that I won’t do that. I find him faintly repulsive in that way.’ She got a faint smile in response to that unequivocal declaration but Barnard still looked strained. ‘That’s not all that’s worrying you, is it?’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘I’m still not convinced the murder is gang related at all,’ he said.

She took a deep breath. ‘Carter Price took me down to Blackheath this morning to keep an eye on Reg Smith’s place,’ she said. ‘Surveillance, he called it. He reckons Smith is planning something big … I shouldn’t even be telling you this.’ She hesitated and Barnard looked at her in astonishment.

‘You saw me there, I take it?’

‘You with someone else in your car.’

‘Bloody hell, Kate. What did you think was going on? Or more to the point, what did Price think was going on? The worst I expect.’

‘So what was going on?’ Kate asked, her mouth dry.

‘Sergeant Vic Copeland and I made a quick call on Reg Smith to ask him if he knew anything about the body that was found on the building site. Copeland is sure that it’s a gangland killing, but of course Smith denied all knowledge of it. Nothing to do with him, he said. We weren’t there more than fifteen minutes, I don’t think. We had to get back for an interview with Ray Robertson to ask him the same question. You’d better put Price right on that.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Kate said quietly. ‘He thinks the worst every time, of course. I suppose it’s his job. What did Ray say to Copeland.’

‘Get lost, more or less. It’s nothing to do with him either. Which leaves the Maltese to be tackled and they don’t tell anyone anything if they can help it. So we’re still left with no ID for the body. Nothing at all. I still think it could be the old tramp you met at the church that time.’

Kate shuddered slightly. ‘In which case it could be more to do with Georgie Robertson than Ray?’

‘And in which case the other witnesses could be at risk too. Especially Jimmy Earnshaw. He’s only a kid and he must be worried about giving evidence, however well he’s being looked after by the witness team. I had a quiet word with a mate of mine at the Yard who knows about protecting witnesses and he reckons he knows where Jimmy is. He gave me an address. Strictly out of order but he owed me a favour. I thought I might go down there and have a chat with him, see how he’s bearing up. His evidence is absolutely crucial and I’d really like to know that he understands that and he’s still up for the Old Bailey.’

‘That he isn’t getting cold feet, you mean,’ Kate said.

‘Will you come with me?’ Barnard asked quietly. ‘It might reassure him if he knew that there were people who were rooting for him.’

‘When?’

‘Now, if you’re not doing anything this evening. It’s not far to drive. We could be there in three quarters of an hour. I can drop you off at Shepherd’s Bush on the way back. Or we could go out for a meal. What do you think?’

Kate hesitated for a moment but she could see that Barnard was wound up in a way that she had never experienced before. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Stop at a phone box and I’ll tell Tess that I won’t be in for supper.’