it turned out she had both. She wrote them down on a sheet of paper and handed it to me. ‘I don’t know why we bothered keeping his details,’ she said. ‘It’s not as if we’d ever consider selling. We love it round here.’
‘I can see why,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘It’s a nice area.’ I put out my hand and she shook it vigorously. ‘Thank you very much for your help, Mrs Deerborne. It’s most appreciated. If Mr Franks does for some reason turn up, can you call me on this number straight away?’ I handed her my card.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, leading me back to the front door.
‘I hope your cold improves,’ I told her as I stepped outside.
‘I’m sure it will. They never did catch the man who killed the paperboy, did they?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘We didn’t. But one day we will. We always get them in the end.’
When I was back out on the street I phoned Berrin and brought him up to date. ‘I’ve got a couple more visits to make,’ I told him. ‘We’ll meet back at the station. Do me a favour, can you check on a car registration for me?’ I reeled out the number.
‘Do you think you might have something then, Sarge?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Possibly. Do me another favour as well, will you? Speak to Capper and Hunsdon. See how the interview went with Jean Tanner.’
When I’d rung off, having given Berrin plenty of things to do for the morning, I suddenly felt guilty. There I was, supposedly teaching the poor kid the ropes of CID, and instead I was dumping all the routine stuff on him and going my own way. I made a conscious decision to be more inclusive in future. But for now, I needed to move fast.
I’d turned my mobile off for the duration of the meeting with Judy Deerborne, a long-standing habit since interruptions always messed up my thought process, and I now saw that I had a message. It was Malik returning my call, and he’d only phoned ten minutes ago. I pressed 5 for callback and waited while the phone rang. Malik was a sod of an individual to get hold of so I had to make the best of the opportunities I had.
He picked up on the fourth ring. ‘Hello, John, I’ve just tried to phone you.’
‘I know. You got my message, didn’t you, and the emails I sent you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘The guy in fatigues in the photo with Jack Merriweather. We’ve identified him as a Tony Franks. He’s been living at 41F Runmayne Avenue in Highbury Fields for the past few years. Do you know anything about him?’
‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘He was suspected of being involved in drug-running for the Holtzes out of eastern Europe, where he’d built up a lot of contacts. He was brought in for questioning and put under surveillance for a while in 1998, mainly because of that article in
‘The address he’s been living at doesn’t ring a bell, then?’
‘Not off the top of my head. I’ll have a look for you, but I don’t think so.’
I was undeterred. ‘It’s a decent place in a nice area. The rent must be two grand a month, absolute minimum, probably more. As far as I can tell, this guy Franks’s job was as a part-time bodyguard, so someone else must have been paying for it. The question is, why?’
Malik sighed. ‘You’re right. It does seem an odd set-up, even if he is linked to organized crime.’
‘Listen, let me run something by you. It’s strange, it might even be outlandish, but it’s something that’s bugging me.’ I looked up and down the quiet street. A brand-new-looking BMW 7-Series drove slowly past in the direction of the Holloway Road. ‘And, you know, the more I think about it, the more I think there’s something in it.’
‘Go on.’
So I told him, and when I’d finished Malik said that I was right, it was outlandish.
‘But if there is something in it, think of the possibilities. Think of what it could do to help you against the Holtzes.’
‘Talk to the landlord,’ said Malik. ‘Find out how he gets paid every month and where the money comes from.’
Wednesday, four days ago
Gallan
Roddy Lee Potter lived in a swanky apartment situated on the ground floor of an attractive Georgian townhouse just off Kensington High Street. When I’d finally got him to answer the phone the previous day he’d been in a bar in Soho, sounding extremely drunk. We’d arranged to meet today at midday at Roddy’s place, but I’d phoned ahead to make sure he hadn’t forgotten our conversation, which he had. He’d wanted to postpone, the hangover in his voice obvious, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily and insisted we keep the time as arranged.
I got there ten minutes early and was buzzed in straight away. The door to the apartment was opened by a large, red-faced gentleman with curly, greyish-black hair who looked like he hadn’t been out of bed that long. He was dressed in a crumpled pair of slacks and a short-sleeved shirt.
‘Detective Sergeant Gallan, please come in.’
I followed him inside and through to a lavishly furnished but very messy lounge. It looked like the cleaner hadn’t been in for a few days. Lee Potter motioned me to a leather armchair and I sat down, wrinkling my nose at the three-quarters-full pub-sized ashtray on the table beside him, the smell reminding me why I’d chosen to give up all those years ago.
‘Would you like some coffee?’ he asked.
I said I would, and waited while he went to get it. He seemed a genial enough chap, but then I guess you would be pretty genial if you lived an easy, relatively wealthy life from rental income, and had no responsibilities. Was I jealous? What do you think? Of course I was.
When Lee Potter came back with the coffees, he asked how he could be of assistance. ‘I hope I’m not in trouble for anything,’ he added in a tone that was a little bit too ingratiating, and sat down opposite me.
‘No, but it’s something you might be able to help with. You’ve been renting a house out to a Mr Tony Franks?’
He nodded his head. ‘That’s right. He moved out a couple of weeks ago.’
‘How long’s he been renting from you?’
‘About four years now, something like that.’
‘Can I ask how much you charged him in rent?’
Lee Potter looked taken aback. ‘Is it strictly necessary to know that? What’s it got to do with anything?’
‘I’m trying to build up a picture,’ I said, ‘and this information’s an important part of it.’
‘Two thousand two hundred a month. I probably could have got more but he was an easy tenant, and they’re not all like that, I can tell you.’
‘How many properties do you rent out, Mr Lee Potter?’
‘Four altogether.’
‘I expect they make you a tidy little income, don’t they?’
Lee Potter smiled nervously. ‘It’s not bad. Not bad at all.’
‘No, I bet it isn’t.’ My tone was deliberately suspicious. Lee Potter struck me as a weak character, someone you could push. ‘What does Mr Franks do for a living?’
‘I believe he owns his own company. I’m not sure what it does, though. As long as he paid the rent on time-’
‘… Then you didn’t ask too many questions. How many times have you met Mr Franks?’
‘Er, I don’t know. Not many. Two or three times at most.’
‘In four years?’ I raised my eyebrows.
‘There was never any need to see him more than that.’
‘He lived there alone, did he?’
