Paula climbed the pine staircase and headed for the second door on the left. The door was open and Sharon was standing near the bedside cabinet. The bedroom was untidy. There were clothes scattered on the floor. There was an odour of stale cigarettes mixed with perfume.
“What is it?” Paula asked. “He’s getting suspicious.”
“I think we’d better call the guv.” Sharon pointed to a photograph on the cabinet. It was a picture of Louise in a nightclub somewhere with three friends. She was wearing a black dress and holding a cocktail in her hand. On the index finger of her left hand was a small gold sovereign.
Jessie woke with a start. His skin was damp with sweat, his heart racing. It was three in the afternoon and he was trying to catch up on some sleep. The pain caused by his ears kept him awake despite swallowing boxes of ibuprofen. The hospital had given him some strong painkillers when they discharged him, but they had been gone within days. Every time he moved his head, the pain was unbearable. When he did fall asleep, his dreams became nightmares. The robbery at the poker game haunted him and so did the conversation he had had with his bosses, the Oguzhan family.
The Oguzhan cartel was a branch of the Turkish mafia from Istanbul. The Turkish mafia dominated the world’s heroin trade; for nearly four decades, they had processed the raw opiates from the Middle East in clandestine labs. They trafficked eighty percent of the heroin and cocaine that reached Western Europe and the United States. Jessie didn’t know much about the top members of the cartel. The ‘Babas’, or godfathers, were a mysterious and deadly group with connections to the police, the military and the governments of their region. At a historic conclave in Sophia, Bulgaria, the Babas had carved up Europe between them, and the Oguzhan cartel had moved into the United Kingdom. Jessie was trying to clear his head when his mobile rang. He rifled through his pockets looking for the device. The caller was Gus Rickman. He was a handy guy to have on your side and a dangerous enemy too.
“Hi, Gus,” Jessie answered. Talking hurt him. Every time he moved his jaw, spikes of lightning flashed in his brain.
“Alright Jessie?” Gus’ gravely tones came through the speaker. “How are you?”
“I’m okay, thanks, considering,” Jessie replied bravely. He had never felt worse in his entire life. He was sore and scared.
“Have you heard from Salim?” Gus asked. Word on the street was spreading and the city’s jungle drums were beating. No one could believe that mavericks had hit the poker game. It was suicide. Gus wanted to know who had taken his money, but he was also concerned about how the Turks would react to losing their drugs.
“No, nothing,” Jessie answered between clenched teeth so that he didn’t have to move his jaw.
“What about the Oguzhan family?”
“I had a long conversation on the telephone with one of them,” Jessie explained. “I don’t know who he was but he was right up his own arse.”
“Salim’s family were the first of that bunch to come here, Jessie.” Gus sounded serious. “There are thousands of the slippery bastards here now, but his side of the family are the real power mongers.”
“I thought they were all loosely connected,” Jessie said, “but I didn’t realise he was that important.” Jessie swallowed hard. If Gus was trying to help or cheer him up, then he was failing miserably.
“He is the main Baba’s grandson,” Gus explained. He had done his homework. “During the nineties, they were the biggest firm down south, unrivalled in London, but in recent times, there’s war with the Kurdish and Albanian mobs.”
“They’re all fucking lunatics, right, Gus?” Jessie tried to laugh but it hurt too much.
“Dangerous lunatics, Jessie,” Gus warned him. “The Green Lane area of London has been a blood bath for the last decade. Most of the killings are attributed to the Oguzhan clan.”
“Great,” Jessie moaned. His head was banging. “How the fuck did I get involved with this lot?” The Turks had gradually moved north, buying nightclubs to front their drug businesses. Jessie had been struggling financially and they had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, paying way over the real estate value of the club to get a foothold in the city. The deal had seemed perfect at first, especially when they offered Jessie the opportunity to remain the manager and co-owner of the business.
“How involved are you, Jessie?” Gus growled.
“What do you mean?” Jessie gasped. “In the robbery?”
“You tell me,” Gus replied calmly. “Were you involved?”
“No. I fucking was not, Gus.” Jessie stood up and his head felt like it might explode. “They cut my ears off!”
“Maybe that wasn’t part of the deal.”
“What?” Jessie sat down again.
“Maybe they did that to make it look real,” Gus said. “I wonder if you and Salim set it all up.”
“No way, Gus,” Jessie cried. “I get on with Salim, but I don’t get involved in their shit.”
“Okay, Jessie,” Gus said. “You tell me how involved you are with the Turks and then we can take it from there.”
“Look, I was on my arse, Gus,” Jessie sighed. He could sense the underlying venom in Gus’ voice. It wasn’t just the Turks he needed to worry about. “Salim called me out of the blue and offered me stupid money for the club and he offered me a job running the shithole!”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“I soon realised the deal was flawed, when he asked me to hide a shitload of heroin and cocaine.” Jessie’s throat was dry as a bone. He needed a drink. “I flipped at first but he said that if I didn’t do it, I would be shot dead and so would Rose. He said it as if he was asking me the time. Cool, as you like. ”
“Sounds like a good incentive to help out,” Gus said sarcastically.
“I just kept my mouth shut and did as I was told,” Jessie explained. “They paid me good money and I’m retiring in a few years. It was easier to keep my head down.”
“What did they say on the telephone?” Gus seemed calmer.
“Well, I explained that the fire had caused substantial damage to the nightclub, but the insurance companies would pay to rebuild it eventually, and they were not too bothered about it.” Jessie paused. “Then I had to tell them about the robbery and the drugs. He was livid about losing five kilos of cocaine and I was terrified that they’d kill me. I thought that the fire might conceal the robbery but it didn’t. The contents of the safe, some passports and other documents were untouched by the fire and the drugs were gone.”
“What did they say?” Gus asked. “What exactly did they say, Jessie?”
“He asked if I had heard from Salim Oguzhan. I told him that he had disappeared and wasn’t answering his mobile. He didn’t say much about Salim.”
“Salim is an important member of the cartel.” Gus reinforced what he had said earlier. “I can’t understand why you didn’t get more of a reaction.”
“I don’t know. I asked the family for the chance to explain what had happened at the poker game and they told me to expect a visit soon.”
“What did he mean by a visit?” Gus asked.
“I don’t know, Gus,” Jessie sighed. He sat back on the bed and pulled the quilt over him. It was cool and there was a breeze coming from downstairs. “He just said to expect a visit from the family to explain to them what happened.” Jessie wasn’t sure what a visit entailed and he was anxious.
“You need to be careful what you say, Jessie,” Gus said after a few seconds silence.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the biggest drug dealers in the country have had their stash nicked and their grandson is missing,” Gus sighed. “They will be looking for someone to blame, and if they look in the wrong place, then you could have more than your ears to worry about, understand, Jessie?”
“Yes, I think so,” Jessie replied quietly.
“Keep me informed, Jessie.” He heard the line go dead. It was obvious that Gus Rickman was distancing himself from the situation. Jessie wondered whom he could turn to if he needed help. He threw back the quilt and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A bolt of pain scythed through his brain as he sat up and he groaned. He waited for the pain to subside before standing up. Jessie caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. A thick bandage swathed his head; the gauze dressings over his ears looked comical. There were dark stains on the dressings where blood had seeped through the stitches.
“Bloody idiot,” he grumbled at his reflection. “You should have given him the combination the first time he asked.” He wrestled a pair of black trousers on and then grabbed a cardigan off the end of the bed. Jessie hated cardigans, but he couldn’t pull anything over his head. It was too painful. He shouted downstairs as he dressed. “Put the kettle on, Rose.”
Rose and he had married twenty-five years earlier in South Wales. They had met at a rugby game between Pontypool and Cardiff and married a year later. Jessie had been a keen rugby player back then, and he had been handsome despite his broken nose and cauliflower ears. Rose had fallen for him immediately. Now he didn’t have all of his ears. The man he saw in the mirror looked old and tired. They had worked in the licence trade all through their marriage, running various pubs before they had moved into the nightclub business. Things had been good at first, but the breweries had begun to push landlords’ margins to the limit, and combined with the smoking ban it had been the death knell for thousands of pubs and clubs. Jessie was a scallywag. He wasn’t a villain or a gangster, but he liked to mingle in their company. There was always the odd deal floating around when he mixed with people like that, and that was what had kept them afloat for years until he had sold the club to the Turks. Now he wished he hadn’t, but it was too late for hindsight.
“Rose, put the kettle on, darling!” He shouted again. She didn’t answer. Jessie thought she might have nipped out to the shops while he was sleeping. As long as she didn’t buy any more handbags, he thought. She had hundreds of handbags, half of which she never used once they were taken out of the box. “Rose, are you there, darling?” There was still a touch of the valleys in his voice.
A breeze blew up the stairs as he walked down them, keeping sudden movements to a minimum. “Rose.” He stopped halfway down. Something was moving in the living room, but the door was closed and he couldn’t see inside. “Rose?” There was nothing but silence. He felt a breeze again and a shiver ran through him. “Rose.” Silence answered him.
Jessie wasn’t sure if it was his imagination running away with him, but he felt as if something was wrong. He set off and walked down the stairs slowly. When he cleared the landing, he leaned over the banister and peered into the kitchen. Another bolt of pain shot through his head. “Shit!” he moaned,pressing his hands to his ears until the pain subsided. “Rose, are you there, darling?” The kitchen was empty. The backdoor was open, but everything was where it should be. The kettle was switched on and reaching boiling point, and there were two cups placed next to the appliance waiting to be filled up with hot water. The fridge door was ajar. That was unusual. Rose often scolded him for leaving the fridge door open while he put milk in their tea. “Rose!” He called her name again. Silence. He reached the bottom of the stairs and put his hand on the balustrade as he turned toward the kitchen. The kettle was boiling, steam gushing out of the spout. It clicked loudly as it switched off. Jessie felt like something very bad was about to happen. He didn’t know why, but he felt that something was wrong. Maybe she had nipped out to the bin or something. “Rose.”
There was a thud in the living room. Jessie stopped next to the door and listened. He reached down and touched the brass handle. It felt cold. His heart was pounding and he held his breath as he twisted the handle, but he didn’t push the door open. Jessie changed his mind, let go of the handle and walked into the kitchen instead, instinctively closing the fridge door as he went by. The backyard was empty, she wasn’t out there. He opened the cupboard under the sink and picked up a claw hammer before returning to the living room door. He hid his revolver at the club. He never brought it home. Rose didn’t like guns. Jessie took a deep breath and swallowed as he twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The room was long and wide and the door was set in the middle. He quickly looked left and right, but the room was empty. Today’s newspaper was folded neatly on the beige armchair where he had left it earlier. Rose’s pink slippers were side by side on the floor in front of the settee. A clock on the wall ticked loudly just as it had for years. Everything was normal.
The living room door slammed into him with enough force to knock him off his feet. Jessie cracked his head on the doorframe as he fell and the searing pain from his ears made him feel like his head would burst. He dropped the hammer and fell to his knees as the door slammed into his head again. A blinding flash of pain exploded in his brain like a giant camera had gone off in his mind. The door swung again, trapping his head between it and the frame. He cried out and tried to stand but a blow to the back of his head forced him back down again. As darkness flooded his mind, he felt strong hands dragging him across the carpet, the rough fibres burning the skin on his back. His head bounced off the floor, the pain in his ears unbearable. Jessie’s mind shut down. The pain was more than his brain could stand.
Alec was halfway through a chicken salad that his wife had prepared for him when his Blackberry began to vibrate. He turned the ringtone off while they ate. The atmosphere was frosty and Gail had not spoken more than a few words to him since he had arrived. His mother-in-law was lecturing him on the subject of work-life balance. Apparently he neglected her daughter and prioritised his job. She was right, but Alec didn’t need to hear it from her. To top it all, the chicken salad was not chicken. It was chicken substitute, which tasted nothing like chicken. Alec decided to eat it and say nothing. Things were bad enough as they were without insulting the salad. He could call at the sandwich shop on his way back to the station. It was open all day long.
“Are you listening to me?” Marjorie tapped a wrinkled finger on the table. She was pushing eighty-five and gave no impression that she was about to slow down yet. Alec ignored her. He glanced at her neck and decided she looked more like a turkey every day.
“Excuse me. I need to take this call.” Alec picked up his plate and walked into the kitchen. It was the opportunity he needed to escape Marjorie’s droning voice, plus he wanted to scrape the salad into the bin.
“Can’t it wait until we’ve finished eating?” Gail called after him.
“Sorry, but it’s important.” He looked at the screen. It was Will Naylor.
“It’s always important, Alec. It’s always more important than me.” He heard her parting shot across the bows and it stung. He grimaced as he answered the phone.
“Hi, Will. What’s up?”
“We’ve had some forensic results back.”
“Good, about time. What have we learned?” Alec opened the lid of the pedal bin and scraped the remainder of his lunch into it. He rearranged the garbage to hide the evidence from his wife.
“The forensic boys found a dozen different prints in the hotel room. We’ve run them against our files and one of them belongs to a local man with a record, Patrick Lloyd.”
“The name rings a bell.”
“He’s a small time crook; we know him from the Bluebell estate. Uniform lifted him two years back over the murder of a drug dealer on his estate, Jacky Benjamin. They couldn’t make it stick.”
“I remember it. Benjamin was badly beaten and tortured before he died, right?”
“That’s right. They tortured him with a steam iron. The perpetrator cleaned down the house after the murder. Forensics found nothing they could use. They didn’t find any money or drugs in the house and it was written off as a local gang feud. Uniform arrested Lloyd weeks later when a witness identified him as a man he had seen walking away from the house in the early hours of the morning, but the witness disappeared before Lloyd could be charged.”
“He walked away from it, didn’t he?”
“That’s the one, guv.”
“We need to know where he is and who he’s been working with since then.”
“We’re on it,” Will replied. “He’s not at the same address anymore, we’ve checked. The team are looking through every database available. If he’s still around, we’ll find him.”
“Have you pulled his file from the Benjamin case?”
“Yes, guv,” Will replied. “I am looking at it now.”
“What do we know about him?”
“He’s ex-army, discharged five years ago for an alleged assault on his superior officer. He appealed and got a large compensation pay off. We only have a summary of his army record here. Since then he’s been in the frame for a few grievous charges, a common assault, and he was questioned about the murder of Benjamin, but nothing has stuck. He has never been charged with anything.”
“Any sexual assaults on his file?”
“Not here, guv, but we’re checking back through other forces too. His army record was clean apart from the incident he was discharged for, but it is only a summary.”
“It’s a big step from a few minor assaults to torturing a woman to death, Will.”
“I agree, but his superior officer was a woman. It maybe something or it may be nothing. According to the autopsy report, the dealer, Benjamin, was systematically beaten to death over a period of hours. If he was responsible for killing him, then it’s not beyond belief that he could be involved in our murder. I’m having his army records sent over to us.”
“We’ll see what the MOD has on him, but until we’ve identified the victim we’re stuffed.”
“Good news there. We’ve indentified the girl, guv.”
“Is it a positive?”
“Yes, there’s no doubt about it.”
“Why didn’t you say?” Alec wanted coffee.
“I was getting around to it, guv.” Will laughed at his boss’s impatience. “The results all dropped in at the same time. We may have another suspect to look at too,” Will added.
“Okay, sorry, let’s hear it.” Alec switched the kettle on and grabbed a coffee mug. He needed to get back to the station but he would have to wait until he had heard all the results. He could work through them in his mind on the way.
“The victim is Louise Parker. She was twenty-eight years of age, a graduate from Chester University. She lived at home with her father, Robert Parker. He’s a retired property developer. He reported his daughter missing eleven days ago when she failed to come home after a night out.”
“Has he been informed?” Alec opened the cupboard and reached for the coffee. His wife bought decaffeinated coffee as part of their healthy eating regime but Alec threw the granules into the bin each time and replaced them with the real thing. She would never notice the difference. He twisted the lid and spooned two heaped spoonfuls of the real granules into the cup.
“Paula and Sharon are bringing him in, guv. He’s insisting that he wants to see the body.”
“What have they told him?”
“They’ve told him everything we know.”
“Make sure they look after him. There is no way he can see his daughter in that state. Carry on.”
“Louise Parker didn’t have any children, but Mr. Parker told us his daughter had come off the rails. She was drinking heavily and taking cocaine, but she always returned home at night. When she didn’t return, he reported her missing. Paula and Sharon followed up on the missing persons and visited the Parker residence. They found a picture of her, guv. She had long auburn hair and a sovereign ring. Bloods and DNA tests are in. The victim is Louise Parker.”
“That’s good work, Will.” He poured the water into his mug and added semi skimmed milk. He wanted to add two spoonfuls of sugar but that was unhealthy, apparently. He had asked his wife to buy sweeteners but she had informed him they were carcinogenic. Alec carried a tube of them in his jacket pocket covertly and he sneaked two tablets into his brew. “What else do we know?”
“Louise had a boyfriend, Salim Oguzhan.” Alec was familiar with the Oguzhan family. The MIT had investigated them many times over the years. They were a powerful outfit with their fingers in drugs, arms and prostitution. Their power base was London, but they were expanding into every major city. The police linked them to a number of murders and disappearances over the previous few years but there wasn’t enough evidence to press charges. Witnesses had a habit of vanishing.
“Bloody hell,” Alec gasped. He slurped some of the coffee while he digested the news. “Salim Oguzhan. Now that is interesting. He owns Connections nightclub, right?”
“Exactly. His name is on the deeds and he employs Jessie as the licensee.”
“We know he isn’t at the top of the Oguzhan family though, he was financed to buy that building.”
“That’s what I said, guv. He’s the grandson of the main man in London, Zamir Oguzhan. We’re trying to track Salim down, but it looks like he hasn’t been seen for a couple of weeks. He disappeared around the same time Louise Parker was murdered.”
“Where does he live?”
“He has a house in Woolton, on Gatacre Brow.”
“Nice.” Alec slurped his coffee again. The properties in that area were worth millions.
“He’s married with three children, guv, but his family live in Turkey,” Will added.
“We need to talk to him, rapid,” Alec said.
“We have a uniformed unit there in case he turns up.”
“Have you applied for a warrant to search his house?”
“Smithy is at the courts now. We should have it within the hour.”
“Good. I need you to call Chief Carlton.”
“Why, guv?” Will asked. “What are you thinking?”
“Ask him if he’s had any contact with Salim since the fire at the club and see what his investigation turned up on him.”
“Do you think there’s a connection with Connections?” Will joked.
“Funny, I can’t see how but the chief may have had some communication with him. He might know where he is.”
“It could all be a coincidence,” Will mused, but he didn’t think it was a coincidence and he could sense that Alec didn’t either.
“Something happened at the club before the fire.” Alec swallowed some more coffee. “I want to know what it was.”
“Okay, guv.” Will agreed. They needed to know what had happened before the fire had started.
“How long was the victim involved with Salim?”
“Mr. Parker wasn’t sure, but he estimated it was about three months. He gave us Salim’s private registration plate. That’s how we traced him.”
“Is there any sign of his motor?” Alec asked.
“No, guv. There’s no sign of him or the Porsche. We’re trying to get hold of the manager of the club, Jessie James, but he’s not answering his telephone. A uniformed unit called at his address, but there was nobody home. We’ll keep trying.”
“I don’t like where this investigation is taking us, Will.” Alec slurped on the hot coffee. He leaned against the cupboards and reached for the biscuit tin. He pulled the lid off with his free hand. Empty. She must have cleaned the tin out and left it empty. No more chocolate Hobnobs? This health kick was going too far.
“Do you think Salim was involved in her murder?”
“I can’t rule anything out. There’s a reason why he’s disappeared and we need to know what that is.”
“If it was a domestic that got out of hand or a crime of passion, fair enough, but the level of violence rules against that.”
“True, but he vanished about the same time as the murder was committed, so where is he?”
“Why would Salim Oguzhan do that to his girlfriend? The guy is loaded and could take his pick from a string of bimbos; I can’t see the motive.” Will knew they were missing something.
“Who said he did kill her?” Alec sighed. “The fire at the club wasn’t on my radar until now, Will, but now it has to be.”
“I agree, guv, but what have we really got so far?”
“Salim Oguzhan owned the club. He employed Jessie as his manager and licence holder. There were reports of gunshots and an explosion before the fire spread, and Jessie was minus the tops of his ears. Combine that with the disappearance of Salim and the discovery of his girlfriend, who was murdered, and we have a big fat nothing.” Alec paused and thought for a second. “The only thread between the two is Salim and torture. Whoever cut off Jessie’s ears wanted something. It was either a punishment, or someone interrogated him. The Parker girl was tortured to death and the bloodstains in
the factory unit indicated that others were tortured. There is a link but I can’t see it yet. We need to know what happened in that nightclub, Will.”
“The chief said no one at the poker game would talk. They refused to say anything.” Will said.
“What about Jessie?”
“He made a no comment statement with a solicitor present.”
“So there was no crime reported?”
“No, guv.”
“Pull them all in, Will. I want everyone from that night brought in and interviewed.” Alec swallowed another mouthful of the hot liquid. “This is no longer about a fire or an assault. I’m convinced it is linked to our murder investigation. Bring them in, run thorough checks on their motors, tax, insurance, and the works. Get uniform to crawl all over them and put them under pressure until they realise it will be easier to tell us what happened at the club than to remain silent.”
“Okay. You’re the boss, but I can’t see the chief being happy if we run all over his investigation.”
“Tough. They are not investigating it anymore, Will. A room full of villains playing poker, gunshots, a fire and the manager gets his ears sliced off. If no one makes a statement then it’s just another chorus of gangster’s paradise, right?”
“Maybe that’s all there is to it, guv,” Will said cautiously. The young detective was ambitious and he didn’t want to rock the boat. He had damaged his reputation as a first class detective by making indiscretions in his personal life. He was a player, but he’d played with the wrong women and wrecked several marriages. Will couldn’t afford to rock the boat with the senior hierarchy. Alec Ramsay would not be around to babysit his career forever.
“Maybe, but I want to know what happened that night. Call it a hunch if you like, but I believe it’s connected. I don’t know how, but I think it is. I think Salim Oguzhan is the key. When you bring them in, I want our detectives to hold the interviews. You and I will take Jessie.” Alec poured the dregs of his coffee into the sink. “I am on my way in.”
He ended the call and looked out of the window. Calderstones Park spread out before him. There were wide grassy spaces and a huge boating lake. It had been raining for the last week but the sun was out for a while and people made the most of the warmth. There were families sat on the grass eating picnics and couples walking hand in hand on the winding paths which dissected the park.
“What have you done with your lunch?” His wife came into the kitchen and her voice disturbed his thoughts.
“Sorry, I was miles away then.” He managed a smile but his mind was on the case.
“Did you throw it in the bin?”
“I finished it, Gail.”
“Liar.”
“Sorry, but I wasn’t that hungry and I have to get back to the station.” Alec leaned to grab her hand but she pulled away.
“I’m leaving, Alec.” She opened the dishwasher and slammed her plate into it noisily. “I’ll go to mum’s for a while.”
Alec frowned and sighed. He felt like he’d been punched in the guts. “Look, I’m sorry about this, but it is a big case and I have to be there. We found a young woman tortured to death and the evidence at the scene suggests there are more victims somewhere.”