Cold Killers (28 page)

‘Would you be interested in meeting Billy Manson with me? I want to crack on with the projects that Eddie had going.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, relieved. ‘I’ve got a pretty full schedule, but let me know when you’re thinking of it.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘That’s probably fine. I’ll send you a text with my new number to use here.’

She picked up the new smartphone that Bowie had given her.

‘How many phones do you have? You picking up bad habits already, Della?’

‘My Samsung is playing up. I’ll get it sorted when I get back to Spain. I’ve had this one for a while. Just good to have a backup. There, I’ve sent you a text. Let me
know what time and I’ll try and make it.’

‘Give your broken phone to me. I’ll get it fixed or replaced for you. It’s no bother.’

‘I left it at home, but thanks, anyway. You’re very kind, Laurence.’

‘Do you need a car while you’re here? I’ve got one you can borrow.’

‘It’s okay. I’ve gone with the usual car hire firm that Eddie always used. I pick it up tomorrow morning, it’s all arranged.’

‘Cancel it; you don’t need it. I told you, I’ll sort one out for you.’

Della looked up from her plate.

‘It’s kind, Laurence, but I can do things for myself.’

‘Why? Eddie always took care of you; now I will.’ He smiled. ‘It’s a pleasure.’

‘It’s kind of you, Laurence, but I’ll be okay on my own. I’m going back to who I once was.’

‘And who was that?’

‘Della Cipriani.’

‘The waitress? The one who used to bring me a strawberry milkshake?’

‘Funny you remember that.’ Though Della wasn’t finding it funny.

‘Of course, I was in love with you back then. I was a teenager in love. I had no idea you had eyes for Eddie. I remember thinking you and that waiter were an item. I thought he was my
competition. Not good old Eddie.’

Della pushed her plate away and picked up her wine.

‘You have a remarkable memory; if a little askew. You were very young, after all. You know what, Laurence? I’m sorry, but I am so tired. It’s just come on in a wave and I can
feel a migraine starting. Would you mind if we call it a night? I need to get to sleep soon, to try and stop it getting a hold. I need to take some pills.’

‘Oh, what a shame. The evening was just getting started. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to stay and give you a neck massage – that’s the latest thing for
migraines?’

‘That’s kind of you, but I don’t think that would be appropriate, do you?’

He shrugged. ‘We are not your average couple. Appropriate doesn’t come into it, does it, Della? We come from an “every man for himself” background. Rules don’t
apply to us Butchers.’

‘We are not a couple, Laurence. I’ve just buried my husband, your brother. I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable here.’

‘Not my intention, of course. I just wanted you to know that I feel deep affection for you and I will be here when you need me. I’ll call by in the morning when you’ve
rested.’

‘I might not be here. I’ve got lots of things I want to achieve while I’m here in the UK.’

‘What things?’

‘Just things he left for me to do. That’s all.’

‘The car? You’ll need the car.’

‘I told you, I’ve booked one now, it’s paid for. I’m going to pick it up first thing. You don’t need to bother. Thank you, though.’

‘I’ll give you a lift to the hire company. Which one is it?’

‘I forget. I’ll check later.’

‘Check it now. I need to know.’

‘No, Laurence. I don’t need a lift. Thanks for coming. I need you to go now. My head is pounding.’

Laurence picked up his coat from where he’d thrown it over the back of a chair and he started down the stairs, and then stopped.

‘I’ll text you about the meeting with Manson. That’s if you’re still interested in knowing about your ex-husband’s business. That’s if you care what happens
to it.’

‘
Late
husband, not ex. Night, Laurence.’

12 December

At just gone four in the morning, Ross and Willis walked out of their apartment into darkness. They walked quietly along their landing and down the outside stairs and across by
the pool to the reception area.

They stood in the quiet foyer of the hotel as they waited. The air conditioning was fierce and Ross shivered. He couldn’t stop yawning. Willis had slept just enough. She never needed a
lot. She had the ability to sleep deeply and quickly. She felt refreshed and raring to go. She was beyond excited about the day. She was a morning person, even on a normal day she was used to
getting up early and into work. But today she’d woken to the sound of night time in Marbella: the drone of bars and cars. She’d slept with her window open. The light flooded into the
room from the electric light on the landing. It buzzed as moths hit it.

They had made coffee in their apartment and Willis had found plastic cups to bring it downstairs, so Ross stood sipping it as they stared out at the darkness.

‘Okay, here we go,’ Willis said, as she caught a glimmer of car headlights turning to come to the hotel.

‘It’s just one car. I don’t think it can be them,’ said Ross.

They watched as the headlights went out and the two detectives pushed open the doors to the foyer and walked across to them.

‘Ay up, it’s the Marbella Vice again.’ Ross gave a side smile to Willis, whose eyes were fixed on the Spaniards walking their way over and giving a nonchalant wave towards the
women on the reception desk.

‘You ready for this?’ Garcia rubbed his hands in anticipation as he got near.

‘Absolutely.’ Ross grinned back at Garcia as he went across to the bin by the reception desk to throw in his empty coffee cup. He and Willis followed them out to their car.

Garcia took the wheel. Willis glanced at Ross. He didn’t look her way; he was staring out of the window.

Ramirez turned back from the passenger seat.

‘How’s the hotel? Okay?’

‘It’s good, thanks. Tell me, how many officers will be coming in with us for the raid?’ asked Ross.

‘We’re having the Special Ops officers to come and help us with this,’ answered Garcia. ‘There will be fifteen of us altogether. We have made slight changes to the way we
will enter the premises but our position is the same as we showed you at the meeting: we attack from the front gate.’

Ramirez shut off the headlights as they came within sight of Villa Cassandra. The police van was parked away from the road. Black figures began emerging from the back of the van. They were fully
equipped with semiautomatic rifles and helmets with visas. They stopped briefly to liaise with Garcia and Ramirez and then they took their positions along the perimeter of the premises.

Ross and Willis donned flak jackets and waited out of sight of the main gate until the signal was given, and they saw the black figures of the Special Operations forces scaling the walls and
running along the top of the wall before they dropped down into the garden. The next sound was the frantic deep barking of angry dogs. The sound of a whelp as they were tranquilized. Lights went on
in the house. An alarm sounded and the guard on duty on the gate stood back, his hands raised, before opening the front gate. Willis and Ross followed Garcia and Ramirez as they burst into
Tony’s premises and sprinted up the driveway and round to the back way through the kitchens and servants’ quarters. They went through the kitchens and into a massive, well-equipped gym.
An indoor pool and numerous steam and sauna rooms followed as Ross and Willis made their way out of the lower floor.

‘In here.’ Ramirez had gone on ahead and he called them into a room that was within the centre of the building. It was a space where it looked like there had been a bank of computer
stacks. The abandoned connections were hanging down, ripped out.

Garcia pulled open a box of phones and packs of SIM cards.

‘Must be three hundred at least.’ Garcia held up handfuls of the cards. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not illegal to have SIM cards.’

‘What the fuck is going on? You wake us up at five in the bleeding morning, for no good reason.’

They caught up with Tony in the trophy room.

‘What is this about?’ The early-morning wake-up had found Tony fully awake and dressed in his usual vest and shorts.

Ramirez answered, ‘We have reason to believe Señor Francisco is being held somewhere on this property.’

‘Who?’

‘Señor Francisco, the lawyer who visited you, brought here by Marco Zapata on the day of your brother Eddie’s funeral. Is that clear enough for you?’

‘How the hell do I know what happened to Francisco? We dropped him back in the middle of Marbella after we concluded our business. Is that what all this is about?’

‘His daughter is also missing. Do you know anything about her?’

‘Nothing. I didn’t know he had a daughter.’

‘We will need to take a look around.’

‘Go ahead. Try not to nick anything this time. Who are these two?’ Tony addressed Garcia, who answered him in Spanish. Tony was watching Willis and Ross closely.

‘Tony Butcher?’ Willis went straight for the introduction.

‘Who are you?’

‘DS Willis from Major Investigation Team 17. We are handling the investigation into your brother’s death, sir, and this is Detective Inspector Ross.’

‘You’ve got a nerve.’ Sandra came to stand in the trophy room in her sweeping kimono-style white silk dressing gown, which was far too thin and silky to stay closed. She glared
at the detectives as she lit a cigarette. All of Tony’s cocaine had been tidied away. It was now hidden in the cavity beneath the swimming pool. It was a feature Eddie had built in to the
villa.

‘Is there anyone else in the property?’ Ramirez asked.

‘The staff,’ answered Debbie, who had said little since she walked into the trophy room seconds after Sandra, and seemed to accept the raid as part and parcel of life.

Willis called Ross aside and they went to a corner of the room to talk.

‘Something’s very wrong with all this,’ said Willis. Ross nodded.

‘The officers searching are just going through the motions. No one expects to find anything. They’ve quite obviously been tipped off.’ Garcia came across to talk to the English
detectives.

‘I don’t think we are going to be lucky today.’

‘If we think Francisco is buried somewhere in this property, we need to bring the specialist forensic team in here,’ said Ross. ‘This isn’t going to get us
anywhere.’

Garcia blinked a couple of times at Ross while he made sure he understood what Ross was saying.

He shook his head melodramatically from side to side. ‘Not without proof.’

‘What were you hoping to see here? Francisco nailed up next to the lion head or hanging over the giraffe’s neck?’

Garcia’s eyes took a narrow amusement. ‘Hah-ha! That would be just fine, wouldn’t it? We will always be in a delicate situation here, Ross.’

‘Okay, well that’s your business. We would like to interview the family about Eddie’s death, that’s why we’re here.’

‘Go ahead,’ said Garcia, a flash of anger in his manner as he walked off.

‘Mr Butcher, can we talk to you about Eddie’s murder?’ He nodded. ‘Can we talk in private?’

‘Office.’ He stood and came from behind the dining table as he strode back through the trophy room and Ross and Willis followed.

‘We would like to speak to you both afterwards, please,’ said Willis as they passed Sandra and Debbie. Debbie nodded, Sandra turned her back.

Inside the Don’s office Ross took stock as he walked in and stood looking at it all as if he were in a flashback situation.

‘This office?’ he started to say, looking around him. ‘This office looks very familiar, it’s like—’

‘Not
like
,’ said Tony, amused but irritated. ‘It
is
a replica of the Don’s office in the
Godfather
trilogy.’

‘Of course it is. Impressive,’ said Ross. ‘Can we sit down?’

‘Sit.’ Tony waved his arm in the direction of the leather sofa. ‘You come to make me an offer I can’t refuse?’

Ross smiled, Willis frowned; she’d never seen the
Godfather
movies.

‘Mr Butcher,’ she said, as she decided to sit on the chair rather than next to Ross, ‘I know that you were here at the time of your brother’s murder but, because of the
nature of his death, I need to ask some questions.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I’ll ask some questions and hopefully you’ll be able to answer them.’

‘Don’t be a smart-fucking-arse with me, girl, you’re a long way from home.’ Tony swivelled on his chair as he glared at Willis.

‘Are you threatening me, Mr Butcher?’ Willis felt the anger solidify into a calm she had learned from Carter. She was grateful for it. The room had Tony’s testosterone bouncing
off its walls.

‘Just stating the fucking obvious. In case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Can we turn up the lighting in here, please?’ Ross asked.

Tony thought about it but then reached down and touched a switch and the lights behind the pretend windows and their louvre blinds turned to full daylight.

‘There are questions about the way your brother died,’ continued Willis. ‘Given the nature of his line of work, does it seem strange to you that he was tortured and killed in
the way he was?’

Tony shrugged. ‘Everything is strange to me about my brother’s death. Why kill a man who builds houses for a living?’

‘Except when he builds them for dangerous people,’ said Ross.

Tony nodded. ‘If I had been there, I might have prevented it.’

‘How?’

Tony breathed in through his nose and held the breath a few seconds then exploded with, ‘By killing them before they killed him.’

‘So, you admit his death had something to do with the people you know?’

‘I admit nothing. He was executed for some reason that had nothing to do with me.’

‘His death was made to look like an execution,’ Willis said.

Tony went into a blinking spasm as he thought about what she had said.

‘Made to?’

‘Yes, he was shot in the head minutes after he was actually already dead. His heart gave way, the toxins built up from torture. It would have been obvious he was dead. Someone wanted some
information from him very badly. They wanted it to look like an execution.’