Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(72)

‘Unless the odds are stacked in your favour before you turn up,’ said William.

‘By whom?’ said The Hawk.

‘Whoever it was who left the murder weapon and three spent cartridges on the roof of the building Abbott just happened to live in.’

‘But two of the Roach gang caught Abbott on the roof, and our lads got there just in time to see them throwing him off the top of the building.’

‘Just in time,’ repeated William. ‘Don’t you find it a bit of a coincidence that a member of the public just happened to phone 999 at one thirteen this morning, and our boys somehow got there in time to hear the third shot being fired? Roach was still alive when I turned up. So I suspect that phone call was made before the first shot was fired.’

‘What are you getting at?’ said the commander, his tone changing.

‘As the officer in charge of the investigation, I’m trying to get at the truth.’

‘And have you reached any conclusion?’

‘My gut feeling tells me it was someone who was on compassionate leave who fired all three shots, but was in no mood to be compassionate himself. However, I concede it was the two Roach gang members we found on the roof who threw Abbott off the building. But then I suspect that was all part of Ross’s plan.’

‘If Abbott didn’t kill Roach, how come they found him on the roof?’

‘I think he heard the shots from his flat, and went up to see what was going on. Don’t you find it strange that we later found an identical rifle to the murder weapon in his flat? Why would he have two, I ask myself.’

‘Do you have anything more to go on than your gut feeling?’

‘An empty Marlboro packet was also found on the roof.’

‘A lot of people smoke Marlboros, me included. You’ll have to do better than that, Chief Inspector.’

‘While the lads were rounding up the other gang members, Ross walked straight past me, disguised as a tramp and pushing an old pram.’

‘Why didn’t you ask him what the hell he was doing there?’

‘I was trying to question Roach at the time before the medics put him in the ambulance.’

‘He was still alive?’ said The Hawk, in disbelief.

‘He survived for another twenty minutes, which I suspect was all part of Ross’s plan.’

‘But you can’t prove the tramp you saw was Ross.’

‘He was wearing four combat medals.’

‘Then you’ll only need to interview about ten thousand possible suspects.’

‘I could eliminate the 9,999 of them who haven’t been awarded the Queen’s Gallantry Medal.’

‘Ross wouldn’t make a mistake like that.’

‘I don’t think it was a mistake. I think he wanted me to see it.’

‘Then why didn’t you arrest him?’

‘Because at that moment Abbott’s body landed on the pavement just a few feet away, which I confess distracted me.’

‘Will you call him in for questioning?’ asked The Hawk.

‘What’s the point? He’ll have all his answers off pat, and will be well aware we don’t have anything that would stand up in court.’

‘Do you still want him to be a member of your team when you go after Faulkner?’

‘We wouldn’t get as far as the front door without him,’ said William, ‘let alone beyond Faulkner’s study.’

‘If you’re right and he did murder Roach, you’d better make sure he isn’t carrying a gun when you enter the house, because he won’t give a damn who sees him kill Faulkner.’

? ? ?

The door was opened by a man who towered over him, arms folded, fists clenched, ‘HATE’ tattooed on the knuckles of both hands.

‘What can I do for you?’ said a voice.

He looked past the doorkeeper to see a wizened old man who was seated behind an oak desk in a large leather chair that seemed to gobble him up.

‘I need to borrow a grand, Mr Sleeman,’ he said anxiously, as he stared at the diminutive figure, who looked even more odious than his gormless bodyguard.

‘Why?’ demanded Sleeman, his thin lips hardly moving.

‘I need to buy a car.’

‘Why?’ he repeated.

‘I’ve been offered a job as a sales rep with a pharmaceutical company and I told them I had my own car.’

‘Do you have any form of security?’

‘The car, and I’ll be earning two hundred quid a week, plus commission.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘I have a small mews house in Chelsea.’

‘Do you own the house?’

‘No, I have a short lease.’

‘How short?’

‘It’s still got sixteen years left on it.’

‘I’ll need the car’s log book and the lease, which my man will collect this evening,’ said Sleeman, nodding to the giant by the door. ‘Both will be returned to you, but not before I get every penny of my money back. Plus the usual interest, of course.’

‘What are your terms?’

‘You’ll get your grand,’ said Sleeman, ‘and in return you’ll pay me six hundred pounds a month for the next three months.’