Deadly Intent

Jenkins. The mass exodus had been beefed up with uniforms, as they had fifty-eight license plates to check out. Many of the cars had already been eliminated, as they were connected to residents on the estate. Other vehicles were already on the wanted list, as they had been stolen, but uppermost were the last group: those which, according to Jeremy Webster, had been parked near the site on the night of the shooting.The hoodies brought in for questioning filled up the cells and interview rooms, but the 'smell' was wrong. Why would these smalltime punks shoot through a door? They were there, uppermost, to score—so why kill Frank Brandon? It became clear during the arrests and questioning that the key dealers were not among those traced.Anna, still seething at Cunninghams derogatory remarks, chose to take the more upmarket vehicles: one of them might belong to the man who had accompanied Frank Brandon. To her irritation, she was yet again paired with Gordon. They had addresses to visit right across London, from Hampstead to Chelsea and Brixton.Anna arrived at the Hampstead address of her first owner-driver at five-thirty that afternoon. Paul Wrexler was not at home, but his pregnant girlfriend was. Helen was nervous and agitated when faced with Anna and Gordon, and became even more so when asked about her boyfriend's whereabouts on the night of the murder. He had been at home, she said, until she went to bed and then had gone out for about an hour at nine-thirty to pick up some cranberry juice for her, as she had a craving for it. She had never heard of Frank Brandon, but what interested Anna was why she was so anxious. When asked if her partner ever took drugs, Helen broke out in a sweat, dabbing at her upper lip with a folded tissue.Anna eventually grew tired of being pleasant. A man had been found murdered, she explained, at the same location where a police witness had seen Wrexler's BMW parked.'Let me ask you again,' she said. 'Does Mr. Wrexler use drugs?'Helen, in tears, stuttered out that he used cocaine, but only occasionally. He had promised not to use it anymore, with the baby coming. She had been worried about the people he was mixing with when he scored. It took another few minutes for Anna to calm her down and ask if she had ever met any of these dealers. She shook her head and repeated that Wrexler only resorted to taking cocaine when he was under pressure to work long hours. Just as Anna was about to get details of Wrexler's workplace, to question him there, he arrived home.Wrexler was in his early thirties, wearing a pinstriped suit, white shirt, and tie. He was a commodities broker in the City and, judging by his flat and his new car, he was earning good money.When he learned the reason Anna and Gordon were there, he became abusive toward Helen. 'What have you been telling them, for God's sake?'Anna asked him to sit down, and calm down. He perched on the edge of a chair, giving Helen angry glances.'I have not used for months,' he said tightly.'Have you ever been to the Warren Estate in Chalk Farm?''No, I haven't.''This would have been two nights ago.''I wasn't there.''That may be so, Mr. Wrexler, but your car was seen parked on the estate.''There has to be a mistake.''I don't think so. We know your car was on the forecourt on the night a man was murdered.''Jesus Christ! I wasn't there, I swear; you must be mistaken.''Did you lend your car to someone?''No.''Then can you explain why we have your car registration as one of the vehicles seen parked there that night?''I wasn't there.'Anna began to tap her foot; she knew he was lying. 'Perhaps we should continue this interview at the station?''For God's sake, why?''Mr. Wrexler. As I said before, a man was found murdered at a squat used by dealers and one that had been in operation for some months. If you were not there on this specific night, have you ever been there before?'Helen looked at him with an almost pleading look. 'You told me you weren't using it anymore,' she said. 'You promised me!''I've told you the truth, for God's sake.'Anna smiled at Helen. She suggested she make herself a cup of tea while they finished talking to Mr. Wrexler.As soon as she was out of the room, Anna went for it.'Right. I've impressed on you the importance of knowing what time you were at the estate and when you left—''I wasn't there.'Anna shook her head. 'Yes, you were, and now is the opportunity to tell me the truth. I am not concerned with what you bought, I just need to know what time you—''I wasn't there.''All we are trying to do is eliminate the people we know were parked at the estate on the night of this murder. Now, if you refuse to cooperate, then ...''All right.'Anna cocked her head to one side, waiting.'I did go there, but I didn't score. I swear on my life, I didn't. I mean, I was thinking about it, but Helen has been so anxious about me being out late, and she wanted some cranberry juice, and I'd had this nightmare day, and I was worn out...' He bowed his head. 'I got there about ten-fifteen. I went up to the first landing and saw all these hoodies hovering around on the corridor, guarding the place, and I just freaked. You know the risk I was taking. So I went to the car and drove off. I was only there for ten minutes, no more.''I see. Can you describe these 'hoodies' at all?''No, 1 never really saw their faces. They were black kids—well, most of them. There were about seven of them and I just didn't want to get into any aggravation, so 1 swear I just drove away.''What about other cars?''There were quite a few, but I wasn't paying any attention to them. I was more concerned with getting home.'Anna smiled and looked up from her notebook. 'Thank you. Just one more thing.. How did you know where to go to score?''What do you mean?''Well, it's simple, isn't it? Chalk Farm is a little way from here, and the dealer's flat is a boarded-up squat on a very rough estate. So how did you know you could score drugs from there?'Wrexler twisted his body in his seat.'Had you been there before?''No.''Then how did you know you would be able to score?''Oh Christ, I don't want to get him into trouble.''Who?''One of the guys at work. He used to score for me sometimes. I think he got it off one of the company drivers. My mate is not a dealer, he just gets it for personal use. Anyway, it was becoming expensive— well, this is what he told me—so I said to him, wouldn't it be cost-effective for us to buy direct and split whatever we got between us?''I need to know his name.''The driver?''No, your friend.'Wrexler sighed. 'Okay, but I hate to do this. Like I said, we're just smalltime, and we're not addicts or anything like that.''His name, Mr. Wrexler—then we can leave.''Ben Carter.''What car does he drive?''An MG Sport.''And the company driver's name?''Oh shit.' Wrexler pulled at his tie. 'Donny something. I'm unsure of his surname.'Anna stood up and put her notebook away. Wrexler sprang up and asked if they could keep his name out of it. Anna made no reply, simply thanking him for his time.She and Gordon returned to their car to get to their next scheduled meeting in Chelsea. It was almost seven o'clock. They drove in silence for a while. Then Gordon asked what they were going to do about Wrexler.'Nothing, right now. I would say if he has any more coke stashed, he'll be snorting it! One day, if he keeps it up, it will take over him and his work.''Do you believe him?''Yes, do you?''I don't know, I've never used it. I've never even had a joint.''Good for you and ... Gordon? When I'm working these people over, it's a good idea if you made some notes as well, so we back each other up. Can you recall the name of the guy at his work who also uses?''Erm, no. I can't.''Exactly. so start concentrating. You are not along for your entertainment.''Right, sorry. I got so interested in how you questioned him. To be honest, I would have believed him straight off—you know, that he wasn't there. Smart flat, nice girlfriend, smart car, smart bloke.''No, he isn't. You think it's smart to do what he was doing? Scoring from cheap drug dealers? That's how these creeps survive, dealing with the 'nice' guys who think they can handle it, cutting out the middleman—in Wrexler's case, a driver. I need to know more about him.'The address in Chelsea was equally upmarket, a small chic house off the King's Road. Mark Taylor's car was a convertible Mercedes. They drew up outside his home as he was walking up the road, about to let himself in. He was of similar age to Wrexler and had his own business, selling bridal and wedding accessories. He was pleasant and relaxed, and invited them in.Without waiting for Anna to explain the reason for their visit, he launched into the problems the residents had parking their cars at night. 'I've had to leave my car in Cheyne Walk, which means I've got to get up at some ungodly hour to move it before I get a ticket.''We are not here about parking permits.'He blinked.'We are here because your car was seen parked on an estate in Chalk Farm two nights ago.''What?''We are investigating a murder.''Christ. I can't help you.''I think you can, because we know your car was parked in the forecourt of the estate.''I don't remember.''Were you scoring drugs, Mr. Taylor?'It was a similar scenario to Wrexler. Taylor denied scoring drugs or ever using them, then eventually admitted that he had been to Chalk Farm at around 11:15 P.M. He had gone to the squat and scored some amphetamines. He had not been into the flat but had spoken to a boy standing on the landing outside number 19. He told him what he wanted, the boy returned with it, and Mark paid him. He also admitted that he had been to the same address on two other occasions. He tried it on, saying he had a sleeping disorder, but Anna ignored the excuse; she knew Taylor was just trying to get out of the fact that he was scoring illegal drugs. The most important information to get out of him was who had given him the squat contact. He said he couldn't recall specifically but, at a party, he had met someone who had passed on the address and told him that they were dealing in anything he wanted, and at a straight price.At last, they got their first link. Taylor said he did not know anyone called Wrexler, or Carter; all he did know was the Christian name of the driver—Donny. The latter had driven one of the guests to the party. As Anna already knew this Donny worked for the firm employing Wrexler, she was confident that they would be able to track him down. At the same time, she insisted they get the name and address of the girl giving the party. She was called Samantha Smith-Felton, was well connected from a wealthy aristocratic family.By the time they reached the last address, it was eight-thirty. Anna was hungry but decided to continue; the sooner it was finished, the faster she could get home. They found themselves on a council estate, almost as rundown as the squat in Chalk Farm. Eddie Court's souped-up Mini was parked in the drive of the estate. It was at least fifteen years old, not one of the new