Corpse in Waiting (19 page)

My turn of phrase seemed to sharpen them up a bit.

‘I like that,' Greenway said. ‘But what happens when she doesn't return? We daren't risk her telling them where she's been.'

‘No, you send a cop round to the flat crying his eyes out to tell whoever's there that she's been run over,' I said much more sarcastically than I should have done. ‘Come on, will they care? She's quite likely an inconvenience anyway. The fact that she's missing might even force their hand. I'm sure the woman will cooperate and opt for police protection if it's impressed on her that all she's likely to get is a bullet from Tony if she doesn't.'

‘Right,' Greenway said decisively. ‘We do it now.'

‘But there's no knowing whether she'll go out on her own again today,' I warned.

Leyland grabbed for his mobile and contacted someone on watch. It was possible to discover from overhearing the one-sided conversation that Irma Burnside had already left home, at around four fifteen that afternoon and driven off in her car, a Vauxhall estate.

‘Did she have any luggage with her to suggest she was bailing out?' Leyland asked. ‘No? Did anyone follow her?'

I guessed, from the nervous way that he was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair and the worried look he shot in Greenway's direction that the reply was something along the lines of there being not enough personnel to tail everyone who could be regarded as a bit-player who might only be going to Sainsbury's. Sir.

It was arranged that a comprehensive lookout would be kept for her return and that she would be stopped, if possible, before she came within sight of the building where she lived.

We all hung around, waiting for news.

Nothing happened.

‘She's done a runner and it's all my fault for acting the hit-man,' Patrick said unhappily when we were both in the canteen a little later drinking coffee and eating fruit cake, in-flight refuelling really as neither of us was hungry.

I could see some truth in this as Patrick is potentially far more intimidating than any Tony Capelli clone on a bad day. Recollecting what had taken place though there had been every impression that Irma had been more impressed by him than scared, together with having the exciting prospect of the intruder blowing Martino's brains out and thus smoothing out her love life for her.

I said as much, with little effect on Patrick's mood.

‘Look, bringing her in for questioning was originally on Greenway's wish-list,' I reminded him. ‘And don't forget, things change from minute to minute.'

They changed: Irma Burnside was picked up half an hour later, her car loaded with shopping, and weapons, having collected them from the lock-up garage on her way back from Sainsbury's.

TWELVE

O
bviously, this complicated matters because the gang would be wondering where their guns and Jammie Dodgers were. Both Patrick and I knew that it was no use praying that they would think Irma had done the dirty on them, something had to be done, quickly.

‘Will you trust me on this?' Patrick asked Greenway when the meeting was immediately reconvened.

‘What do you want to do?'

‘Get some results by talking to her, with Ingrid.'

‘Explain to me why I should hazard the entire operation by placing it in your hands.'

‘Because it's what the pair of us are bloody good at.'

Greenway looked at him stonily as if trying to read his mind.

‘You can confirm what I've just said by speaking to Richard Daws,' Patrick added.

Colonel Daws, Patrick's one-time boss in MI5, was now somewhere in the upper echelons of SOCA. He recommended him for the job.

‘There's no time for that,' Greenway said roughly. He turned to the others. ‘What does everyone else think?'

‘I don't,' Leyland said with a shrug. ‘If it's screwed, it's screwed.'

The other two had nothing positive to offer either.

‘They're backing you to the hilt,' Greenway said to us with a fierce grin. ‘Off you go then.'

He at least, would be watching and listening.

Irma Burnside had been escorted into the same interview room in which we had questioned David Bennett. She was almost as furious as he had been.

‘I thought you were supposed to be an effin' crook!' she bawled at Patrick when we entered.

‘It's just one of my hobbies,' he said with a smile, seating himself.

The baleful glance landed on me. ‘And who's she – really?

‘We go around together. And if you don't object she'll take notes.'

‘I don't suppose I have much choice in the matter, do I?'

‘Miss Burnside, despite driving a car carrying weapons of various kinds and egging me on to murder Martino Capelli you have not yet been arrested or charged with any crime, but are here mostly for your own safety.' He then went on to formally introduce himself, and, as before, giving the impression that I was just one of his not-really-worth-introducing assistants.

‘I'm not saying anything,' Irma announced, crossing her arms defiantly.

‘At least we know where we are then,' Patrick murmured. ‘I take it these weapons were concealed in the lock-up garage which the various gangsters you're harbouring use for precisely that.'

‘Go to hell!'

‘And you were told to collect them as they were to be used very shortly in a raid on a West End jewellers.
After
which, as a diversion and a two-finger salute, an attack was to have been made on a central London police station.'

‘You're talking as though—' She stopped herself just in time.

‘It's not going to happen?' Patrick said softly. ‘It's not, it's history, Irma. You've been watched for months.'

‘I – I wasn't going to say anything like that! And what's all this about me being brought here for my own safety? More lies?'

‘No. Tony Capelli is fairly stupid but greedy for power and although police informers are silent as to whether he's out to take over his cousin's criminal empire we think he is. You won't be part of that plan.'

‘Yes, I am. He loves me. He said so. He told me he's over here on business – he's nothing to do with crime now – and then he's going to take me back to Italy where he's got a lovely villa.' Irma stopped speaking abruptly but then added, ‘I'm not saying one word more. Take me home.'

‘He has a wife and family in Italy,' Patrick said.

I looked at him quickly but his expression betrayed nothing. I was aware that he had been on the phone to James Carrick within the past hour but knew nothing about this revelation. He does not normally lie about this kind of thing though, not even to criminals.

Silence.

‘I don't believe you,' Irma Burnside said at last.

‘The Italian police seem perfectly clear on the matter.'

‘Why should they know about him?'

Patrick sat back in his chair. ‘You didn't notice the armed thug who acts as his minder? Were you asleep when I had a conversation with him recently at your flat? It's never occurred to you that both of these men belong to the Mafia?' And without waiting for a reply, ‘Where is Martino, by the way?'

The woman gaped at him. ‘Why – why he's inside! You know that!'

‘He was released yesterday.'

‘Released? But no one's seen him. He hasn't been back to my place.'

‘He's probably been given the news that Tony's around and might just be planning to kill him. What did they tell you they were going to do with the firearms?'

‘I didn't know it was guns I had to fetch.'

‘You must have done. Together with semi-automatic pistols in a cardboard box and another box containing ammunition in the boot of your car there was a sub-machine gun on the back seat that only had a length of old curtain wrapped around it.'

‘Bugger off,' Irma muttered.

‘You're in this up to your neck and will go to prison for a very long time. Worse, and as I said just now, your life is very likely in grave danger. Have you never asked yourself why your sister died?'

There was immediate alarm. ‘Imelda? What's happened to her then?'

‘I'm afraid she's dead. Murdered.'

‘You're lying to me again!' the woman cried in real distress.

Patrick switched off the tape machine after saying that he would not continue the questioning until the witness had recovered.

This was risky and not like him at all. If the person being interviewed had been male he would have taken full advantage of the shock and carried on battering him down until he confessed and/or agreed to cooperate. But . . .

‘Would you like some tea?' Patrick enquired gently.

‘Yes, please,' she answered almost inaudibly.

It was not necessary for him to do so but he left the room to organize it. I knew the reason for this: it was now my turn.

‘Do you know about all this?' Irma said to me.

I told her I did.

‘You're his working partner.'

‘That's right.'

‘What's he really like?'

‘He won't let anyone hurt you but will make you tell him the truth even if it upsets you far more than you are now.'

After this had sunk in she said, ‘It's terrible about Imelda. We weren't that close but she was my sister.'

‘Was it ever suggested that she might come and live with you?'

‘No, she'd have hated London. I once stayed with her for a short while when she had a flat. She loved Bath.'

‘Only there was talk that she'd written a letter to someone saying that she was.'

‘This is all news to me. Please tell me what happened to her.'

Although our conversation could be overheard in the adjoining room anything she told me would not be allowed to be used in evidence unless I engineered it so that Patrick obtained the same result and it was recorded.

I said, ‘Her body was found in a house in Bath that belonged to her boyfriend's aunt.'

‘What, Dave's place?'

‘That's right.'

‘God,' she muttered and was silent for a few moments. Then she said, ‘I didn't like him very much. I only met him the once and all he talked about was money.'

‘Did he have anything to do with Martino?'

‘Of course not! Nor did Imelda. They never even met him. I can't believe she's dead. She was a good person. Always helping people. She worked with old folk. Did you know that?'

‘Yes, I did. Are you sure Martino, or someone connected with him, didn't know about Imelda?'

‘Positive. Anyway, why would Martino want to hurt my sister? I know he's a crook but he used to be fond of me before he went inside and Italians love their families. God, I've been a fool, haven't I? So that little shit Tony's got a wife.'

That made two of us who thought so then. ‘When did he come on the scene?' I asked.

‘Only a couple of months ago. He was all smiles and charm and seemed an escape out of the dead-end life I've got. He bought me presents . . .' She broke off and her face twisted angrily as she realized how he had used her.

‘
Is
he going to kill Martino?'

‘He told me Martino was going to kick me out of the flat. He pays the rent, after all. And that they had a feud that went back years and years. I don't know really. Sometimes men are all talk.'

‘And you're quite happy for him to kill him?'

‘No, not really. Despite what I said the other day. I'd quite like Martino to kill Tony now. It would serve the bugger right.'

‘The trouble with guns is that sometimes innocent people are hurt.'

‘I know. Perhaps we could fix up one of the dragons to get him.' She smiled to herself broadly.

‘Or you could turn Queen's evidence and Tony'll end up behind bars.'

‘He'd get me when he was let out though, wouldn't he? Or pay someone else to.'

‘You'd get police protection. You will now. You don't think you'll be allowed to walk back in there without the weapons, do you?'

She sighed. ‘I'm in a real bloody mess, aren't I?'

Patrick returned with two teas for the females and reseated himself.

‘Come to think of it, I met Dave's Aunt once,' Irma said, not thanking him and in a world of her own. ‘It was before Imelda worked in the same nursing home as Miss Bennett was in. You had to call her Miss Bennett, never Hilda. If you ask me she was going a bit potty already.'

I said, ‘You mean this was before she went into care? Where was she living then?'

‘In a little flat in one of those warden-assisted developments. Her own house was too damp and dirty to live in apparently. Imelda said it was only because she'd been too mean to spend any money on it. She didn't like the woman at all.'

‘Did Miss Bennett dislike her?'

‘She hated everybody. Bonkers normally, if you ask me.'

‘But not her nephew.'

‘Yes, according to Imelda, she hated him too.'

Patrick cleared his throat. ‘Shall we continue?'

‘Oh, yes all right. But I'm still not going to tell you anything.'

‘This raid that's been planned,' Patrick said slowly. ‘Is it tomorrow?'

‘How many more times do I have to tell you that I'm not saying nothing?'

I was expecting the pressure to go up a notch, when he would suddenly cease to be friendly and there would somehow, inexplicably, be a veiled threat. But he merely smiled and asked, ‘How's Tony's minder?'