Monday 7 May 2012

Predisposed To Murder - Chapter Ten


CHAPTER TEN


“Not Nina?” Carol had turned a shade green.
“No, not Nina,” a grim faced Winter confirmed. “She’s a local woman apparently, someone known as ‘Gypsy’ Kate.”
“A small time drug pusher,” commented Liam Brady without showing any emotion. “She’s bad news,” he added unnecessarily.”
“Not any more, she isn’t,” Winter corrected him gruffly, “except as far as friends and family are concerned of course.”
“She didn’t have any family,” Sadie remarked. “As for friends, well…I’d be surprised.”
“How…?” Carol began.
“How did she die?” Winter grimaced. “She suffocated. Yes,” he added dourly, “she was alive when all that stuff was piled on top of her. A blow to the head indicates she was probably unconscious although whether or not she came round at any time is anyone’s guess…”
“Serves the bitch right,” said Liam with undisguised contempt. “Whatever your fix, you can bet your sweet life ‘Gypsy’ was up for it. Speed, cocaine, heroin, you name it. If you were desperate enough prepared to pay well over the odds, she was a safe bet.”
“She’s banned from this pub and most others around here,” Sadie continued. “Not that it ever made a scrap of difference.  Two of our regulars have overdosed in the last year, both under twenty-one. One died in our toilets.”
“You never told me that,” Carol glanced at her son in some surprise.
“It’s hardly the kind of thing you boast about, Mum,” said Liam. “The local press had a field day. If you visited more often you’d have read all about it.” He added pointedly. “The story ran for weeks...”
“I can’t just drop everything and pop down at the drop of a hat,” said Carol irritably.
“You’re here now,” Liam was quick to point out.
“And we’re delighted to see you both.” Sadie rose a little unsteadily to her feet. “But I, for one, am ready for bed. Junior’s had far too much excitement for one day.” She was patting her tummy and smiling broadly as she spoke while Liam, Winter couldn’t help but notice, was positively glaring in his direction. “We weren’t sure about the sleeping arrangements,” she explained, a twinkle in each eye, “but the double bed is made up in the spare room and there’s bedding in the drawers under the sofa bed where you’re sitting.”
“We bought it specially,” Liam put in with a grin.
“I’m sure Freddy will find it very comfortable,” murmured Carol, only slightly embarrassed.
Sadie bid them all goodnight.
“I think I’ll turn in too,” said Carol, went to her son and planted a kiss on his cheek, but thought better of treating Freddy Winter to the same. Liam’s manner had been increasingly prickly towards poor Freddy ever since the detective’s return from his jaunt with Mike Pritchard. Sadie had done her best to smooth things over between the two men, but had caught Carol’s eye on several occasions with a look that warned, unmistakeably, they were best left to sort out their differences by themselves. “As if I couldn’t work that one out for myself,” murmured Carol crossly, although not loud enough for anyone to hear, and made a detour into the kitchen to check on Stanley. The little dog had wasted no time in bonding with Ben, a long-time resident English setter.
“Can I get you another drink, Fred?” Liam took the detective’s empty glass and refilled it along with his own without waiting for an answer. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you could have chosen a better time to get involved with our local crime wave. Sadie’s vulnerable at the moment. Oh, she’s blooming and we’re both thrilled to bits about the baby, but…well, she ‘s no spring chicken.”
“You could have fooled me,” Winter commented but his companion wasn’t smiling.
“I’m serious Fred.”
“So am I,” Winter insisted. “But honestly Liam, you have nothing to worry about as far as I’m concerned. I’ve no intention of hanging around here a minute longer than Pritchard insists. I just thought that, since I was coming down this way anyway, it would be good for your mother to spend some time with you both as well as keeping me company. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“One bird, at least,” Liam Brady remarked frostily.
But Fred Winter was no fool. “I can appreciate your being protective towards Sadie, Liam, but we both know she’s as tough as old boots. So suppose you tell me what’s really bugging you, eh?”
Liam hesitated then, “Well, since you ask, it’s Mum. She’s not happy about the baby for some reason, and don’t tell me I’m imagining it either. Sadie doesn’t say much, but I can tell she’s upset. What’s got into her, Fred?  I thought she’d be over the moon, we both did.”
“That’s something you’ll have to ask your mother,” Winter told the younger man, spreading his hands in a gesture of mock impotence, “I can’t speak for her. You know as well as I do that your mother is very much her own woman. You also know damn well she adores the pair of you so I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, just give her time to get used to the idea she’s going to be a grandma. She’ll come round soon enough, you’ll see.”
“Do you really think that’s all it is, getting into a flap over her age?” Liam was more than slightly incredulous. “Mum looks fantastic, better than a lot of women half her age.”
“That’s what I keep telling her, but you know how it is with your mother. She doesn’t believe anything of anyone if she hasn’t already convinced herself. Put it down to hormones and ignore it, that’s what I do.”
“It’s probably not just the baby she’s upset about then,” returned Liam cryptically, but he was grinning again now and visibly more relaxed. 
Winter wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to do a little digging. “By the way, Carol tells me you were at university with Max Cutler?” he enquired lightly.
Liam seemed happy enough to change the subject. “That’s right. We haven’t kept in touch since, though, so if you thinking I might have some idea where he is you can forget it. And before you ask, no, I hadn’t the faintest idea he was ever in this neck of the woods. Mum’s been filling us in,” he explained. “It must have come as quite a shock finding that body and thinking it was Max…” he added sympathetically.
Winter bristled at what he saw as an implied if not unjustified criticism. “It was a big hand,” he muttered gruffly, “and could easily have belonged to a man.”
“Gypsy was a large lady,” Liam commented, “in more ways than one. She wasn’t the kind of woman you’d want to mess with either.”
However, for now at least, Winter was more interested in Max Cutler than either the physiognomy of the woman called ‘Gypsy’ or her drug dealing. Not that the latter was irrelevant, given that Cutler, possibly Nina Fox too, were cocaine users. That is, if Pip Sparrow is to be believed, he added as a silent afterthought if without quite knowing why before addressing Liam again, “Did Cutler take drugs?”
“Who doesn’t at university?” Liam flung the rhetorical question back at Winter without a second’s hesitation, “We were all at it, to one degree or another. Most of us just dabbled now and again, usually when we were pretty stressed about assignments we still hadn’t got around to even thinking about the night before they were due to be handed in,” he joked. “If Max had a problem with drugs, I can’t say that I noticed. Not that I had a lot to do with him really, although there was nothing deliberate about that on my part…” He looked slightly embarrassed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Why do you say that?” Winter’s ears pricked up.
“No reason, except…” Winter lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Well, he had a best mate called Ray Bannister and, frankly, some people weren’t too happy about their relationship. You’d expect better from students, wouldn’t you? But you don’t need me to tell you that people still worry about being tarred with the same brush and all that rubbish.”
“They had a homosexual relationship?”
“If they did, it wasn’t an open one. I’d say it was a pretty safe bet though. Ray wasn’t comfortable around women, unlike Max who was quite the opposite. Whether or not he swings both ways, who knows?” He shrugged. “Who cares? I don’t, for one. It’s his business, although…”
“Yes?” Winter prompted.
“Well, I do think if you’re that way inclined you should at least be up front about it with your mates.”
“Did Max have many close female friends?”
“Heaps,” Liam’s natural grin widened, “He can charm birds out of trees, can Max. All the girls fell for him in a big way, and you can be sure he fairly lapped it up. From what Mum tells me, he hasn’t changed one bit.”
“How did Bannister handle this?”
“We never talked about it. Ray was a really nice guy, but the quiet, unassuming type. He didn’t deserve to die like that. I was gutted when I heard about it. Ray may have had his problems but he was no victim. He had his own way of dealing with things, that’s all. Nathan Sparrow has a lot to answer for.”
“Do you know Sparrow?”
Liam shook his head. “By sight, yes, but that’s all. I’ve met the daughter a few times. The Sparrows and Ray were neighbours years ago. Ray threw a few parties at his house during vacations and she’d sometimes show her face. She was just a kid then, and the brother was still alive. He was a real character. He and his pal next door would try and gatecrash and Pip would come and fetch them home. A real little Miss Bossy Boots, she was. I remember thinking how she seemed to take pleasure in spoiling the boys’ fun and not liking her much. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, of course. No one deserves that.” He looked serious for a moment, and then his face lit up with the inevitable grin. “The parties were Max’s idea. His mother would never let him have one in their house. You’ve met her so you don’t need me to suggest why,” he added light-heartedly.
“Point taken,” Winter agreed and wondered if Nina Fox was aware that her ex-boyfriend was, by the look of things, bisexual. “Were Cutler and Bannister friends before university? They lived near each other I believe…”
“To be honest, I haven’t a clue. I didn’t get that impression but I could be wrong. It’s a small world. One girl there lived opposite me and we’d never so much as exchanged a passing nod. Mind you, we soon rectified that,” he said with a chuckle, “but don’t tell Sadie.” He laughed aloud, tossing Winter a conspiratorial wink. Not for the first time, the detective found himself reflecting how much he liked this young man. Like mother, like son, he reflected, and could only hope Carol would soon see sense about not letting the baby drive a wedge between them. He sighed, stifling a yawn. It had been a long day.
“Do you want any help putting up the sofa bed?”
Winter shook his head. “I’ll manage,” yawning openly this time. In the event, however, he didn’t bother. No sooner had Liam left the room than he rummaged in the drawers, pulled out a duvet, sprawled across the sofa just as it was and fell asleep.
The next morning Winter presented himself at Canterbury police station and signed a formal statement. Needless to say, Pritchard remained unimpressed.  Now and then he would say, “Is there anything you’d like to add, anything at all?” to which Winter would shake his head and the younger man crease his forehead abstractedly while noticeably abstaining from his customary dogged persistence. Had his old friend Charlie Lovell told the  sergeant to go easy on him, Winter wondered?  Several times, he asked if Lovell was available, but Pritchard merely shook his head without offering any explanation.  Finally, after Winter had signed on each dotted line, he muttered ungraciously, “My guv’nor wants to see you before you go. I dare say the two of you will enjoy a nice cosy chat.”  But if he was implying Winter would be more likely to confide in Lovell certain relevant details he’d not seen fit to tell him, Pritchard, the young sergeant was well aware that this particular interviewee was too canny a fish to take the bait. 
The two men shook hands and exchanged brief pleasantries before Winter was led away by a WPC to Lovell’s office.
“It’s good to see you Fred.”  Detective Chief Inspector Charlie Lovell leaned across an untidy desk and the two men shook hands warmly. “Sit yourself down and tell me all the gossip. I’d say a little snifter is called for, wouldn’t you, to celebrate the reunion of old friends and all that?  He produced a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from a drawer. Winter accepted, smiling and the two clinked glasses. At the same time, Winter wondered where, exactly, all this bonhomie was leading?  Nor did he have to wait long to find out.
“This friend of yours, Max Cutler…”
“I’ve already explained to Pritchard,” Winter interrupted, “He’s not a friend. I’ve never so much as set eyes on the man…”
“Ah, yes, he’s gone missing and his old mum’s asked you to find him for her. A mind like a sieve these days, me.” He laughed. “So does mummy know her son’s a junkie?”
“Is he?” Winter feigned surprise.
Lovell leaned across the table again and looked his guest in the eye. “Gypsy was a pain in the backside. She’ll be missed by no one except her junkie clients and suppliers. At the same time, her untimely death is, frankly, a bloody nuisance. We’ve been on to her for some time, but it wasn’t her we were interested in so much as certain contacts of hers, contacts she’d choose to meet at various locations along the coast, usually in the middle of the bloody night.”
“Drug smugglers…?”
Lovell nodded. “So if there’s anything you want to tell me that you haven’t already told Pritchard, speak now or, so help me Fred, I’ll have your guts for bloody garters.”
“I don’t doubt that for one minute.” Winter did not flinch from the other’s intense scrutiny. “Honestly, Charlie, I don’t know anything that could be of any possible help to you. If I did, your people would be the first to know.”
“Like we were the first to know there was a body in that shed?”
Winter shrugged. “I had no idea…”
“Of course not, you were just running an errand for a poor old mum who’s anxious about her son.”
“It’s the truth,” Winter protested. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“Probably because I know you too damn well,” Lovell growled, offered Winter the bottle of scotch and watched him pour more of the golden liquid into his glass. Briefly, he leaned back in a leather upholstered swivel chair only to lean across the desk again seconds later, so close that Winter could feel the other man’s hot breath on his face. “I’m warning you Fred. This is a big operation. You fuck it up for us, and there’ll be precious little I can do for you even if I wanted. Do I make myself clear?”
“Absolutely, Charlie, but you don’t have to worry. I don’t give a monkey’s balls about your operation. If anything turns up in the course of my enquiries that might be remotely of interest, I swear you’ll be the first to know. I can’t say fairer than that now, can I?”
“I suppose not,” Lovell muttered, visibly unconvinced. But he’d said his piece and made his position crystal clear. If Fred Winter chose to go ahead and do things his own way regardless, well…what else could he expect? He leaned back in the chair again, poured a little more whiskey into his glass, drained it in one gulp and replaced the bottle in its drawer without offering it to Winter a second time. “What do you know about a Klaus Wiseman?” he asked out of the blue.
Winter shrugged. “I can’t say the name rings any bells.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Oh?” Winter was curious.
“He operates big time. Drugs, diamonds, illegal refugees…you name it and it’s a safe bet our friend Klaus has a hand in it…from Afghanistan to Amsterdam to bloody Acton.”
“Acton? I thought that was Irish Republican territory?”
“You don’t think they’ve relied on funds from browbeating the faithful in the local pubs all these years, do you?”
“And now we have power sharing. Who’d have thought it?”
“The name of the game has changed, that’s all. The main thing is to keep the funds coming  in. As for where they go and what they’re used for after every Tom, Dick and Mary have taken their cut, who cares any more?”
“The good people of Northern Ireland might,” Winter pointed out.
“The good people of Northern Ireland like the good people of Iraq and good people this whole fucked-up world over, have learned to look away.”
“What the eye doesn’t see, the heart can’t grieve over, eh?”
“A lesson you could do a lot worse than bear in mind,” said Lovell, the lightness of his tome belying the severity of his expression.”
Winter grinned, if only to show he understood. Reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieved the photo of Max Cutler that he always carried about with him now and showed Lovell. “That’s Cutler. May I take it he was one of ‘Gypsy’ Kate’s regulars?”
Lovell nodded. “That and more…”
“Oh?”
“They were seen around together sometimes. Not a lot, but…Well, let’s say they seemed more than just good friends.  So you see, Fred, I have more reasons than you right now for wanting to find our mummy’s boy.”
“We’re agreed then?” said Winter, “Whoever finds him first lets the other know, yes?”
“Just be damn sure you do,” growled Lovell with a noncommittal glare. His expression softened upon accepting Winter’s outstretched hand.
“I’ll be seeing you Charlie.”
“I dare say.”
“Take care if yourself.”
“Ditto....”
Later, on his way back to The Green Man, Winter took a detour. Liam had mentioned over breakfast that ‘Gypsy’ Kate lived in a caravan parked on farmland near the village of Selling. “That’s how she got the nickname ‘Gypsy’ I guess,” Liam told him, “It’s a real old gypsy wagon too, none of your posh vans with all mod cons. Mind you, she changed fancy cars more often than she changed her underwear so she wasn’t short of a bob or two, that’s for sure.”
Winter expected to find the caravan cordoned off, a police presence at the very least. But there was no one about. He climbed the short flight of steps and was surprised to discover the door left ajar. Gently pushing it open, he looked inside.
A red-faced, uniformed police constable, securely bound and gagged, mutely pleaded to be released.

To be continued on Friday