Deadly Intent

These shooters, or drug dealers, also had various vehicles—BM Ws, motorbikes—but, as yet, we have no details. The tenants stated they saw numerous can parked outside, as well as cars turning up all night to score. The dealers had been living in this squat for almost three months. That's three months of complaints by residents and yet nothing seems to have been done to clear the animals away. We have various statements from the local plods saying they made plenty of visits to the squat but carried out no arrests! I want every report checked over and all the officers on these call-outs questioned.'Cunningham folded her arms again. 'Right, I said at the opening of this briefing that we have an explosive situation. We do. We have an ex-officer down and we have a drug dealers' squat that appears to have been left to get on with its business without harassment. Do you understand what I am saying? Let's take away the scenario of tough street kids dealing and, instead, make it a much bigger operation that might have been paying backhanders to officers to keep afloat.'She glared around the room. 'The weapons used were not the type handled by street kids. Our call-out lady, Mrs. Webster, describes the sounds as loud pops; that means they were using silencers. Ballistics have said that a Clock with a silencer could have been used. Street kids? No way.'Anna sighed, her notepad full of doodles and drawings of guns. To her mind, street kids could easily get access to this type of weapon; if they were dealing, they would have bags of cash. It was at this point that her mobile rang.She patted her pockets hastily as everyone turned to face her. 'Sorry, excuse me.''I hope that isn't personal.''Do you mind if I go to my office?' She hurriedly made her way outside and into her own small room.It was DS Harry Blunt. 'Travis?''Yes, Harry. Listen, thanks for calling me back.''That's okay. What can I do for you?''I just needed to ask you—''Where are you?''I'm on a case in Chalk Farm.''That's not bad. That schlep we had to go out to, that murder in Epping Forest, was a bastard. I'm in Dulwich—woman's knifed her old man with an electric meat cutter. You tell me how she can claim it's a fucking accident—she had to plug it in! I've got one for the Sunday joint, and there is no way—''Harry,' she interrupted him. She had almost forgotten the way he had rambled on when they had worked together. Blunt by name and blunt by nature, he was hardly ever known to draw breath. 'I don't have much rime.''Have you heard about Jimmy? Superintendent now—very high up. Is he on your case?''No, it's a DCI Cunningham.''Oh, her. The bull dyke. You watch she doesn't come on to you.''Thank you for that advice, Harry, but 1 didn't call about her; it's about the victim in our case.''Right, but word of warning: you watch out for her. In my opinion, she's full of hot air. Working with her after Langton should be a breeze.' He laughed.'Harry, listen to me. What do you know about Frank Brandon?''Frank? I know he retired early. Was on some case, running after some bastard, and fell. Got a rusty screw through his kneecap—fucked him over and so he got out.' There was a pause. She could almost feel the wheels turning in Harry's square head. 'Why you asking about Frank?''Well, it's not been formally ... I mean, we have no formal ID, but we think our victim is Frank Brandon.''What?''They are running tests on his prints. I couldn't be sure as he had taken some shots to his face and ... Harry?''You think it was Frank?''We can't be sure, but he had a wallet with Frank's ID in it.''Shit! The poor flicker! Gets out for an easy life and .. .You really think it's him?''I hope it isn't, but was he married?''I dunno; he used to play around with a lot of women.''When did you last see him?''More than a year ago; we had drinks before he left.''Was he on any kind of drugs?''I dunno. Maybe painkillers—his knee was smashed.''He used to be Drug Squad, didn't he?''Yeah, I think so—long time back, though. What happened?''He was found shot in a drug squat in Chalk Farm.''Fuck me.That's terrible.''Do you know what work he was doing after he left the force?''No, never saw him again. Wait a minute—1 did see him once, for a few minutes on Tottenham Court Road. I dunno what work he was actually doing, but he was driving a very flash Merc. Maybe he got work as a driver or bodyguard?''Thank you, Harry. I've got to go now.''Okay. I hope it's not him; he was a good bloke.''Yes, I hope so too. Bye now.' Anna closed her mobile. By the rime she got back to the incident room, the briefing had broken up.Cordon approached her. 'I'm off home now. We are to go back to the estate first thing in the morning.'She nodded, irritated that she seemed to be paired up with him. 'See you then.''You coming to the pub for a drink? Sort of to get to know everyone?''No, I have things to do at home. See you in the morning.'Anna went to Cunningham's office and knocked. She waited for her to answer before entering. 'Sorry about the interruption in the briefing.' Anna explained that, in the hope of finding out more about Frank Brandon, she had contacted Harry Blunt.Cunningham, on hearing his name, gave a derisive snort. 'That bigoted buffoon! Can't stand him.'Nevertheless, Anna explained how Harry thought Frank might be working as a driver or bodyguard; he also doubted that Frank was using drugs, and recalled that Frank had once worked with the Drug Squad.Cunningham snapped that they knew that; then she tipped back in her chair. 'He's been formally identified by his prints, Anna; it's just come in. Right now we don't have an address, but that should be through soon enough.' Her desk phone rang.Anna gestured that she would leave.'No. Stay put. DCI Cunningham? Terrific—yes, yes, thank you.' She pointed to ajar of pencils.Anna picked one up and passed it to her, then watched as the DCI listened, jotting down notes.She finished the call and replaced the receiver. 'Frank Brandon married a Miss Julia Kendal five months ago. She has two children from a previous relationship. We'd better go and see her.'Anna nodded, though she was eager to get home. It was already after six, and the thought of all the unpacking she would have to do made her head ache. She would have liked to have gone in her own car, but Cunningham had insisted they ride together in a patrol car with a driver.'This isn't a social visit, Travis!'Anna said nothing, doubting that Cunningham, she of the folded arms and classy voice, would be able to give much compassion to the poor woman they were going to visit.Anna was surprised by the house in Wimbledon. It was set back from the common, with pillared front steps up to a large oak studded door: modern, but expensive and quite tasteful. The carport had a Range Rover parked, leaving space enough for a second car. Anna could not imagine Frank Brandon here, but then she had never seen where he had lived as a bachelor.Cunningham took a deep breath. 'Christ, I hate these meetings.' She rang the doorbell and stepped back, almost onto Anna's feet. 'Frank seems to have been doing all right, though: this must be worth about three mil at least.'A Chinese girl opened the door.'Mrs. Brandon, please,' Cunningham said.The girl hesitated. 'One moment, please.' Her English was good.'Who is it, Mai Ling?' another woman asked from inside.'Will you please tell Mrs. Brandon that I am from the police,' Cunningham said.'I need to speak with her on a very urgent matter.'The door was swung wider and a very attractive blonde in a chic dress and high heels appeared. 'Is it about Frank? I've been worried sick.''Are you Mrs. Brandon?' Cunningham asked quietly.'Yes, do you want to come in?''Please.'They went into a spacious hall with a wide staircase. It was thickly and newly carpeted in a pale oyster; there was also the faint smell of fresh paint.'I've been calling him all day,' Mrs. Brandon said as she led them into a big family room. Again, there was a new carpet, and some of the furniture still had bubble wrapping around it.' You'll have to excuse the mess. We only moved in fairly recently.'Cunningham nodded and introduced Anna.Mrs. Brandon knew then, by how quiet they were, that something was wrong. She touched a gold chain at her neck as she perched on one of the new easy chairs. 'Something has happened, hasn't it?''I am sorry, but I have some distressing news. There is no easy way to tell you this, but I am afraid your husband has been fatally wounded.'Julia just seemed to sag, her head leaning forward. 'Ah, no.''We will need you to give us a formal identification.''What happened?''He was shot.''Shot?''Yes. I am very sorry. It happened sometime early this morning.''He's dead?''Yes. Do you know what he was doing last night?'At this point, Julia lost control; she slid forward as she vomited over her new carpet.It took them some time to help her up, and get Mai Ling back to clean up the mess Julia didn't cry, but seemed to be in a daze, as she was helped to lie down and a cold cloth was put on her forehead. Cunningham sat close to her, and asked the girl to call Julia's doctor.By the time the doctor arrived, an ashen-faced Julia was holding on to Cunningham's hand. She had not said a word since she had collapsed. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and even her mouth seemed to have lost its color. As soon as the doctor went to her side, she closed her eyes. Cunningham had to ease Julia's fingers away; her grip had been so tight, it left white marks on her skin. Julia was in a state of shock and the doctor said he would give her something to help her sleep.While Cunningham remained with Julia and the doctor, Anna busied herself, helping to clear up. The bright, happy family kitchen was full of children's toys and games, all so new and pristine. There were many photographs of the two little sisters as babies, then toddlers; there were also numerous wedding pictures of Frank with Julia, and the girlsas bridesmaids, as there were in the lounge. It was hard for Anna to reconcile the Frank she had known with this proud and happy man in a pale suit and a pink silk tie.Mai Ling, who had come down from putting the girls to bed, was placing the children's dishes into the dishwasher.'How long have you worked for Mrs. Brandon?' Anna asked her. 'One year, six months. I have a work permit.' 'I'm sure you do. Do you understand the reason we are here this evening?' 'No.''Mrs. Brandon's husband has been found dead.' The face remained impassive. 'How did you get along with Mr. Brandon?' 'He is a very nice man.''Did you work for Mrs. Brandon before their marriage?' 'Yes.''Was she married before?''She had partner.''But they weren't married?''I don't know; he was much older.''Is this house Mrs. Brandon's?''Yes, she buy this house; we move in not long ago.''After her marriage?''Yes.''Do you know what work Mr. Brandon did?''No. He go out early; sometimes come home very late.''But you don't know who he worked for?''No.''So—the children are in bed?''Yes, we have tea and then I take them up for bath and bedtime.' Anna picked up the