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
