many of the boys said they had been warned not to get involved, as the new dealers were tougher and had their own lookouts and runners.
It also transpired that, unlike a few months back when the squat had been smalltime, it was now trading with more upmarket clients. Crack cocaine was being sold, plus the addictive ice and heroin wraps as the more affluent punters had replaced the street kids.
The owners of the vehicles traced all said virtually the same thing: they'd heard about the squat via someone at a party. They might be scoring cocaine and crack, but it didn't seem that many of them were out-and-out addicts. This is what marked the squat as not typical. Any bust of a similar base would bring in addicts, desperate for a fix. They would often be found crashed out in the street or in a pitiful state of begging from anyone scoring. Cunningham continued to mark up the board as they gave their reports.
Eventually, it was Anna's turn. She flicked through her notebook.
'We have to bring in a driver working for a City bank that employs a user we interviewed called Paul Wrexler. We have only a Christian name for the driver: Donny. The same name came up when we interviewed a Mark Taylor. It seems they used to score from him, then tried to cut out the middleman and go direct. The same scenario applies: no one ever went into the squat, but scored on the doorstep, paid the money, and got what they came for. I don't think either of the men questioned were addicts—more weekend users—and cocaine was the drug of choice. This links back to the kids saying the dealers have changed over, that they're now dealing in the more expensive narcotics.'
Cunningham folded her arms. 'Is that it?'
'No. We got a good lead from Eddie Court. He went to the squat to score, but got frightened off'. He described a jeep, a Mitsubishi with blacked-out windows; he was able to identify Frank Brandon as the driver. 'He wasn't able to give us a license plate, and we don't have one from Jeremy Webster, but he thinks he saw the Mitsubishi at two forty-five A.M. This meant he saw Frank Brandon just before he was shot. 'There was a murmur among the assembled officers. 'We asked about the passenger in the car. Eddie did not see his face, but reckoned he had to be tall, by the way he bent low to get out of the jeep.
He was wearing smart polished shoes. These fit the description we got in from forensics about the bloody footprints around Frank Brandon's body. Whoever this man was, we know he was tall—over six feet—and that he stood behind Frank Brandon when he got the fatal shots to his head and face.
'Cunningham folded her arms and perched on one of the tables, frowning. Anna continued. 'We need to trace that Mitsubishi jeep. We need to have it verified that this was the vehicle Frank Brandon was driving.' She wondered if she should bring up what she had been working on, or was it too early?
'I would like to reinterview Julia Brandon, and I think we also need to have another session with her financial adviser. 'Cunningham stared at her. 'The reason is, she must know about the Mitsubishi. She must have documents for the insurance, and if not, her business adviser will. As he arranged the life insurance for Frank Brandon, he more than likely knows a lot more than he was willing to divulge.
I think we need to know what Julia Brandon's financial situation is. 'Cunningham nodded her head. She gestured to Anna and asked her to join her in her office.
Once there, she rounded on Anna and demanded, 'What are you holding back?'
'Why do you say that?' 'Because I'm older than you, and a lot more experienced, and I know you've not come clean. So: what is it?'
'It's just supposition. Until I am more certain, I would like some time.'
'You don't want to tell me?'
'If you insist, but I may be putting two and two together and coming
Cunningham was not amused. 'Share it.' Anna took a deep breath. 'Okay. Mrs. Brandon—Julia—has an ex- partner. We know, because her accountant told us, that his name is Collingwood. He provided for her and the two children, who, we have been told, are not his biological kids.'Cunningham leaned back in her chair.'Anthony Collingwood is one of the aliases used by a big-time drug dealer called Alexander Fitzpatrick.' Anna filled in all the details she had acquired off the Internet. Cunningham didn't say a word. As Anna concluded, there was an ominous silence.'Shit,' Cunningham said softly when Anna had finished.'It could be coincidence.''No flicking way.''What 1 can't piece together is why he would risk going to that dive in Chalk Farm.''Well, we are going to have to find out. First, let's you and me get over to forensics; ballistics have some details for us. Then we visit the widow again.''If I am correct, then she should be monitored. We don't want her doing a runner.''I agree.''With two young kids, it's not that easy to just pack up and run, but if she has access to a lot of money, then ...'Cunningham stood up. 'I hear you. I'll get that organized. Give me fifteen minutes and we're out of here.' Cunningham gave Anna a hooded look and then leaned forward. 'Word of warning. You were not about to spread this information until you, DI Travis, were ready. Well, don't you ever do anything like this with me again, you understand? You have any information, you pool it. I don't want you running around like a headless chicken, because I've heard that you have done so in the past.'Anna stepped back. 'I was just not certain, that was all. I wanted to be sure.''That may be so, but you come to me and let me decide; do not take it upon yourself to make decisions. Is that understood. Travis?''Yes, ma'am.''Okay. Now get back to your office and write up whatever you've got on Fitzpatrick.' 'It's all on the Internet, apart from a recent photograph.' 'Go on, get to it. I'm impressed—up to a point!'Anna closed the door quietly; she was so uptight she could hardly speak.Pete Jenkins looked up from a microscope as they entered the forensic lab. He smiled a welcome and indicated for them to come to his bench and see what he was working on.'Did you know a person's left thumbprint does not match his right thumbprint? So it's possible we can get a right thumbprint at a crime scene, and it won't match any we have on the database, but we could have a left thumbprint that may produce a result. What I have here is a partial left thumb.''Good. What else have you got for me?''Well, it's off a set of prints from the window ledge. Again, we have no match, but the prints were made from a person who has, on the right hand, an index finger minus the top section.'Jenkins displayed the enlarged prints on a computer. 'Looks like he had some injury to his hand, apart from the missing fingertip, because there's also a big indentation on the fleshy side of his palm. Another interesting point about these prints is the width between the thumb and first finger; they used to say it meant a person was very artistic!'Cunningham sighed and looked at her watch. 'So from all the prints taken at the murder site we have no match?''Correct, but if you find a suspect minus his fingertip ...''Yes, yes, I'm with you,' she snapped.'We have eighteen different prints from the various paper cups and takeaway food cartons, but as yet no luck with a match.' Jenkins moved across the lab, to where they were examining the footprints in the victim's blood. They had marked out how the footprints faced the door of the inner room in the squat and then turned and moved out. 'Large feet—wearing, I'd say, a size eleven or twelve, a loafer with hand-stitched soles. 'Anna remarked that this would fit with the description taken from Eddie Court of the passenger in the Mitsubishi. Ignoring her, Cunningham moved over to where they had been looking at the blood spattering. As they already knew from Jenkins's visit, when Frank Brandon was shot, someone was standing directly behind him. That someone had to be at least six feet three and would have been covered in bloodstains.Lastly, they went to stand by the vast trestle table covered in items removed from the squat. Sleeping bags and blankets were pinned out as the scientists removed hairs and possible fibers that would assist their inquiry. The items smelled of mildew and sweat and could have been left there by any of the previous dealers, Anna thought.Jenkins stood close to Anna as they looked over the items. She didn't meet his eyes, not wanting to get over-familiar with him in front of Cunningham.'As you can see'—he gestured to the table—'we have our work cut out for us; judging from the stink, these could have been left in situ for some time.''Right,' said Cunningham, 'we're going up to ballistics. Thank you for your time.''We are doing our best,' Jenkins said, and glanced at Anna. She looked away and followed Cunningham out of the lab.'Bullets fired from a Glock Meister, very nice weapon: 22LR barrel recoil, spring assembly, speed loader. We have no cartridges and we think at least six of the ten-round magazines were emptied. Mostly, I hear, into the poor chap that died. 'Vernon Lee, a small solid man with crinkly gray hair, turned to a cardboard box on his desk. 'This was found at the site, which surprised me; they must have left in one hell of a hurry to leave this kind of equipment behind. This, ladies, is a very expensive item. It's a Glock Meister optic and mount, with lights and lasers. I've got onto Saber Ballistic over at Caterham Barracks to see what they can give me but, as I said, it's a very upmarket weapon and not usual here in the UK. Stateside, yes, but it's costly. Yardies might be flash enough to own one, but this was a squat, wasn't it?'Cunningham sighed. 'Let me tell you, Vernon, you'd be surprised what weapons these kids get their hands on. From Kalashnikovs to bazookas ...''I know, I know,' he said, looking down at his notes. 'Did the pathologist discuss the trajectory of the shots, because they make it interesting? I'd say your shooter was short, or knelt down, like so.' He cupped both hands as if holding a gun and bent his knees. 'The bullets to the chest area, fired from behind the door, went in at an upward angle; the
