DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2, стр. 308

Isaac’s success rate and that of Homicide in solving murders were due to his diligence in leaving no stone unturned, and if that meant further work had to be done by any member of his team before the early-morning meeting, then he expected whoever it was to pull their weight and to do the necessary. Bridget had done a few overnighters, so had Larry and Wendy; none would ever complain, as to be part of a winning team was all-important to them, Isaac knew that. In the time between murder cases, perilously short as it often was, a casual atmosphere pervaded the department: the level of humour elevated, idle conversation, the chance to surf the net, the literal put your feet up on the desk and lean back.

‘So, according to Palmer, this mysterious woman was married, probably having an affair with his brother, Stephen. Is that how we read it?’ Isaac said after Larry and Wendy had updated him on their visit to the university city.

‘It’s a good enough motive,’ Larry said, hoping that he could soon go home and eat something, anything.

‘Then we must assume that whoever she is, there might be a connection back to Hamish McIntyre.’

‘It depends if he was paid to kill the man,’ Wendy said. She felt tired, and she’d need to eat before going to bed, as well.

‘That’s not what my research would indicate,’ Bridget said.

‘You’d better explain,’ Isaac said.

‘Hamish McIntyre is a killer, although he only becomes involved if it’s personal,’ Bridget said, glancing down at the paperwork she held in her hand.

‘Are there examples?’

‘The file that you all have a copy of shows seventeen murders with Hamish McIntyre’s name pencilled in as involved. Fourteen of them classified as murder, the other three regarded as suspicious. One victim had fallen out of a building, the tenth floor, another had electrocuted himself, and the third had been hit by a car while cycling home.’

‘Which ones are attributed to him personally?’ Larry asked, his stomach cramping up again.

‘It’s in the file,’ Bridget said. It was clear that Inspector Larry Hill hadn’t read the file that she had given him the day before, not in detail anyway. ‘Archie Slocombe. The man owned a club two doors from McIntyre’s.’

‘The year?’ Isaac said.

‘1998. Archie Slocombe, a fifty-eight-year-old male, owned a dozen or more strip clubs and gentlemen-only clubs in London and Manchester, financial interests in a dozen more. He had the financial clout, and Hamish McIntyre was eating into his empire, slowly opening clubs near Slocombe’s, poaching the girls with more money.’

‘And better drugs?’

‘Probably, but that’s not in the report. One of McIntyre’s men had mysteriously died three months earlier, threw himself off a bridge with a couple of concrete blocks attached to his ankles. A suicide note was found at the scene; the dead man had recently left prison, five years for grievous bodily harm. Not one of life’s gentlemen, and not missed by anyone, certainly not a man he put in a wheelchair permanently, and another a vegetable after the man with the concrete adornments, Paddy O’Hare, had slammed his head into a brick wall, repeatedly.’

‘Charming,’ Larry said.

‘We’ve seen his type before,’ Isaac said.

‘The word on the street was that McIntyre and Slocombe were heading for a violent confrontation and that it was either one or the other. As I said, three months later, August 28th 1998, Archie Slocombe was fished out of the river, fifteen days after he’d gone missing. Either he’d been taken by a shark, or someone had gone at him with industrial tools.’

‘Industrial tools?’ Wendy quizzed.

‘Chainsaws, angle grinders, electric drills. The police checked into it, but the mood on the street was sombre, and no one was talking, more afraid of McIntyre than the authorities. With no evidence against him, Hamish McIntyre soon acquired all of Slocombe’s assets, bargain prices by all accounts. No one was willing to argue with the man or debate the price. He cleaned up, secured his fortune, bought the fancy house that Inspector Hill and Wendy visited.’

‘Any more?’Isaac said.

‘I think we’ve had enough, DCI,’ Wendy said.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Isaac said, ‘but please read the other cases against him.’

‘Not if I want to sleep tonight.’

‘Then tomorrow,’ Isaac said. ‘Let’s wrap this up, meet tomorrow morning, the usual time.’

‘Early,’ Larry’s final word that night.

‘Doing it tough?’

A nod of the head from Larry.