Cold Killers (7 page)

Manson was still distracted as he talked and kept one eye on Willis who was walking around the exterior of the warehouse and disappeared out of sight.

‘Do you mind if my colleague takes a look around while we chat?’ Carter smiled. ‘Can you open up the warehouse, please? We’ll be as quick as we can.’

Manson shrugged, ‘Okay, but it’s been done already.’ He walked back over to open up the side door to the warehouse.

‘We’re struggling to come up with a reason Eddie was killed, especially in that manner. It’s the kind of death we’d associate with someone having trodden on the wrong
toes, crossed someone they shouldn’t. Is that at all possible in this case, do you think?’

Manson shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anyone that Eddie had fallen out with.’

‘And you and Eddie got on well? You must have after working together for how many years?’

‘Fifteen.’

‘Exactly. That’s longer than most marriages last. You must have known each other inside out. You still got on like a house on fire?’

‘We had no problems. We usually agreed on most things.’

‘No dodgy clients pissed off with the service? Anyone come to mind?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anyone, but then I wasn’t always with Eddie. He lived in Spain and I lived here.’

‘But, whoever it was, they chose to kill him here.’

Manson seemed to be thinking things through. He rubbed his face with his hands. His eyes were rimmed. He was having difficulty standing still.

Carter looked past him into the warehouse.

‘Would you feel better if we stepped inside?’

Manson was watching Willis as she examined the contents of some boxes.

‘What are you working on right now? Do you make anything here?’

‘No, we hold some things for shipping out to the building sites. We’re working on the same projects as we’ve been working on this last eight months. We’re building one
villa on the Costa del Sol and updating an existing one for a client out there.’

‘Both of them are going smoothly enough?’

‘Yes, on target.’

‘Paid for?’

‘No, not yet, it doesn’t work like that in this business. At this stage, we have a lot of money outlaid on them. Were waiting for interim payments on both.’

‘Who are the clients?’

‘I’m not being funny, Inspector, but this is my livelihood. I’m the one who’s going to lose everything if they decide to pull out, or just not pay because Eddie’s
not here any more. Without Eddie, my livelihood could all disappear and I have my own money in this business.’

‘Why would it just disappear? It’s obviously a good business and you must have built a good reputation. Now surely you’re the brains behind all this. How much do you
own?’

‘I have a five per cent share in the business. I wasn’t the brains in the outfit. Eddie had all the charisma and the contacts. All I did was work out the logistics.’

‘You’re being modest, I’m sure. Has something happened to make you think Eddie’s death is going to make a big difference to this business?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I was not the figurehead. It’s always tricky, precarious. I don’t know what will happen to the business now.’

‘And you liked Eddie Butcher? I mean you thought he was a good boss?’

‘Yeah, he was okay. You know, he didn’t mess you about. He expected a good job done but he left you to get on with it.’

‘That’s good. I really hate that, someone looking over your shoulder, pointing out the bleeding obvious. Micromanagement, eh? But sometimes it was short of money. We’ve been
looking at the accounts for the last few years. What’s been going on? Is it the world recession? I didn’t think that actually affected the super-wealthy.’

‘It’s touched people all the way to the top, I think, but Eddie and I liked to keep a modest cash flow going. We didn’t work more than we felt like and we made what we needed.
Sometimes there are millions in the account and other times we are a million overdrawn. That’s the nature of a luxury business. It never bothered Eddie. I learned to be the same.’

‘It’s a whole new world to me.’ Carter laughed. ‘I worry about going a few hundred quid overdrawn, let alone a million.’ Manson smiled. ‘I’m going to
need to know a bit more about what Eddie was working on. I just have to eliminate possible causes. I can see you run a tight ship here. I’m not looking to cause you problems, just want to
solve the murder of a man who seems to have been a good friend of yours.’

‘Yeah, of course, I understand. But, like I said, I don’t want the customers to panic.’

Carter smiled. ‘Got ya . . . this is sensitive, I understand, don’t worry.’

Manson went into the office, came back after a few minutes, and handed Carter an envelope.

‘This is the information on the two villas we’re working on, clients’ names, et cetera.’

‘Appreciate it. I’m going to make sure any contact with them is kept to a minimum.

‘Has anyone from the family been out here, since Eddie was killed?’

He shook his head. ‘I haven’t really had much contact with them. I’ve met them, but that’s about it.’

‘His family have a bit of a reputation,’ said Carter.

‘Yes, so I heard. Like I said, I only met Tony a couple of times.’

‘The thing is, I can see it would be tricky for you. I bet a lot of people you’ve built villas for are actually Tony’s friends. You must have a few Mafia bosses taking a swim
in a pool you built.’

‘Could be. Look, sorry, that wasn’t my side of the operation. I’m the chippy, the site manager; I’m the man who works out how stuff is going to get done; I’m not
the one who has dinners with the clients.’

‘And Eddie did?’

‘He lived in Spain. He saw the clients regularly. We had local contractors we trusted. I went back and forth when I needed to check on projects out there and Eddie and I met at the sites,
if we needed to, but I know he saw a lot of past clients socially. I expect Marbella is one big club. Everyone knows everyone else?’

‘So, Eddie looked after the clients and he was good at that. He was a charmer, you say? He did well from all this, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘What about you? Do you get to own one of these villas that you build?’

Manson shook his head. ‘The wife and I own a small place in France.’

‘Really, that’s it?’ Carter asked.

Manson nodded.

‘That’s great, though, isn’t it? I’d be happy just having a caravan in Margate.’

Manson laughed. ‘It’s not as great as it sounds. Every time I go over there I see stuff that needs doing to the place. It ends up being a working holiday.’

‘Have you always been a developer?’

‘I’ve been in the building trade since leaving school. One of those jobs I fell into. I started off making bespoke kitchens.’

‘Well, good on ya! How did you and Eddie come to go into business together, in the first place? How did he even find you?’

‘I built a kitchen for him and he liked my work, we got on well. He thought I’d be up to the job and the rest is history.’

‘He was right. You and he have done well together. Are you from this area?’

‘I’m from Hertfordshire.’

‘Do you still have family there?’

‘In Rickmansworth, yes. Sorry? What is this relevant to?’

‘Just trying to get a bigger picture of Eddie, beyond the ex-criminal headlines. I just wanted to understand the nature of your relationship.’

‘Nature?’

‘I mean, you were happy working together? Did you feel five per cent in a business when you did the donkey’s share of the work was good enough?’

‘Yes. Of course. I mean I always earned a good wage. I was grateful to Eddie.’

‘But did you ever see yourself taking a bigger share? Was it ever discussed?’

Willis came back out of the warehouse.

‘No, it wasn’t.’ Manson looked at his watch. ‘It wasn’t what I would have wanted. I didn’t have the risk that Eddie did. I didn’t need to worry about
the financial side of things.’

‘Okay, I’ll let you get on. Thanks for these,’ Carter said, holding up the envelope.

Back in the car, Carter waved at Manson, who wasn’t watching them. He’d already got into his car and started the engine.

‘Find anything?’ asked Carter as they were back on the road.

‘There has been some activity going on, boxes moved, that kind of thing. I took another set of samples. It seems to be looking very bare in there. I wonder why they’d need such a big
warehouse.’

‘Manson said they often have building materials collected there ready to ship to sites,’ Carter said. ‘But there’s something I don’t trust about him. He’s too
polite about everything. I got the feeling he thought I was an idiot.’

‘I thought you always counted that as a success when people thought that.’

‘You’re right, but he’s scared.’ Carter smiled. ‘Natural, I suppose. He must wonder if he’s next on someone’s list. Even, if he’s not scared about
dying like Eddie, he has a whole livelihood to lose. Still, something about him is not ringing true to me. I want him checked out thoroughly. Where did Manson come from? He said Eddie found him
when Manson made a kitchen for him. Sounds like Eddie was really taken with him. Turned out he was right, they must have made a lot of money, but Manson always got five per cent of the profit and
the profit has dwindled to nothing. How come Manson isn’t mentioning that? How is he managing with a gold Rolex on his wrist and driving a new car? Was Eddie doing a lot more than building
villas?’

‘I’ll get Pam on to it right now,’ said Willis as she took out her phone and made a call to Pam. When she finished she looked up from her notebook. ‘Where are we headed
now?’ She didn’t recognise the route.

‘You want the full history, the complete picture? Then we’ll head down to Ramsgate and visit Della Vincetti’s family. It’s about time I went back.’

They parked up on the seafront at Ramsgate and walked back into town; the wind and rain had eased slightly as they walked up a steep hill above the marina and along to the row
of restaurants in the Victoria Westcliff Arcade. Fredo’s Ristorante was at the end, tucked into the cliff side. They opened the door to a wonderful warm mix of the welcoming smell of pizza
dough and slow-cooked tomato sauces, Marsala wine and herbs.

The restaurant was split-level, with arches separating the two sections. The old brick walls were painted off-white, and were dotted with paintings of Italy.

A blonde, middle-aged woman looked up from serving customers and gave them a smile that said, I’ll be with you in a second; and then she took a double take.

‘I don’t believe it! Dan, how are you?’ She walked across and paused. Shocked but happy, she hugged him.

Carter hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks.

‘I’m well, Connie; you’re looking just the same. How do you do it? You don’t look a day older. Let me introduce my colleague. Ebony, this is Connie.’

Connie took Ebony’s outstretched hand and covered it with both of hers. ‘Oh, your hands are cold. For goodness’ sake! I can’t believe it.’ She looked at Dan, still
shaking her head. ‘What are you doing here? I mean, come in, come in.’

‘Well, I thought we’d get some lunch, for a start,’ said Carter.

‘Of course. I’ll call Fredo. Wait a minute. Let me take this order through. Come and sit down.’ They walked beneath the arches and down the step into the main section of the
restaurant then down further into a small private area.

Fredo was led out from the kitchen, wiping his hands. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Carter.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said in his Italian accent. ‘I can’t believe my eyes. Look at you, you’re grown up. You’re a man now.’ He stood beside Carter and put
his arm around his shoulders. Willis thought Fredo looked about to cry.

‘Fredo, this is my colleague Ebony.’ She stood to shake Fredo’s hand.

‘Please sit down. Can you believe we knew this man when he was like a boy.’ He slapped Carter on his chest.

‘Is that mentally or physically?’ Willis said. ‘Because in one way he probably hasn’t changed.’

Fredo laughed loudly. He couldn’t take his eyes from Carter.

‘Come on, please, sit down and we’ll eat together. The restaurant is not busy and we have our nephew, Paulo, working in the kitchen now. He can cope on his own. You sit. I’ll
be back.’

Fredo went into the kitchen and then returned minus his apron and with two bottles of wine in his hands. Connie came to join them, in between seeing to the other customers in the restaurant.

‘Your parents, Dan? How are they?’ Fredo looked across the table at Willis. ‘Excuse us, won’t you? It’s been a long time.’

‘Of course, go ahead. I’m so looking forward to eating here.’ Willis was starving now. The smell of the restaurant was enough to elevate her hunger to stratospheric heights.
She had what Carter called ‘hollow legs’: it didn’t matter what she ate, there was always room for more.

‘Mama is in great shape, she’s busy with all her grandchildren,’ answered Carter. ‘I have a son, Archie, now. But he’s one of eight grandchildren that she helps
look after. But Dad’s not been so good. He’s in remission right now, but he’s had throat cancer.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Send them our love,’ said Fredo. ‘Bring them with you next time you come. It must be at least twelve years. I don’t know where those years
have gone. I’m sure Della would love to see them too. We talked about you just the other day, with Della, didn’t we, Connie?’ She nodded.

‘When she came for the funeral?’ asked Carter.

‘Yes. We didn’t go to it, of course,’ said Fredo. ‘We said our goodbyes to Eddie in our own way. We didn’t like all that with the black horses and the carriage, and
then, look how it all went wrong.’

Connie brought out plates of antipasti and a bottle of wine; a man was with her, helping her carry the food.

‘Here is Fredo’s nephew, Paulo.’ She did the introductions.

‘I remember you,’ Carter said as he stood for them to shake hands. ‘You were still in short trousers then.’ Carter scrutinised Paulo’s face and scanned his memory
banks. ‘You were the snotty-nosed kid who always wanted me to play football with him in the park.’