The body of Baz Hepworth, one of Peppe Briganti’s employees, had been sent back to Australia, and that of Fred Boswell, the other stylist, had also been released. Briganti’s body still remained in the mortuary, as did the bodies of Paul Waverton, Alphonso Abano, and Sal Maynard.
Richard Goddard, normally agreeable, could be irritating on occasions, and now was being just that. Isaac could sympathise with the man, as he had to deal with seniors who were not always pleasant, and most of them were driven by ambition and internal politics. Goddard was a master of both disciplines, but his ambition was being thwarted, as was Isaac’s, and neither wanted Alwyn Davies’s stooge, the incompetent boot-licker Superintendent Caddick, back in Homicide.
‘This Russian angle? Is it likely to hold up?’ Goddard asked.
‘Eighty–twenty,’ Isaac said.
‘Your estimate or that of Serious and Organised Crime?’
‘Both. I’m meeting with one of them later in the week. No point before as they’re in contact with their counterparts overseas.’
‘In Russia?’
‘They prefer to deal through Interpol: more efficient, less bureaucratised, more unlikely to have a mafia man on the inside.’
‘A problem in Russia?’
‘There’s big money at stake.’
‘It’s not much to go with. I’ll hold Davies at bay for as long as I can, but any more deaths or shootings, and you know what happens.’
‘I know. Not something any of us want, and non-productive. If it’s Caddick who comes through the door, then all bets are off. He’ll only stuff it up.’
‘If it happens, then make yourself scarce and keep working on it. Policing would be a lot simpler if everyone was competent.’
‘A lot simpler if we didn’t have criminals either, but that’s life. Whatever happens, the team in Homicide won’t let you down.’
‘I know that, Isaac. While you and Serious and Organised Crime are working on the eighty, make sure your team continues with the twenty. It may still be homegrown.’
‘We’re still following through on four of the bodies. Everyone’s got skeletons, and the four have histories of wrongdoing. Three of them are minor, and Abano was a criminal, but of little note. We should wrap up our investigations into them in the next couple of days and then we’ll release their bodies.’
***
It was late in the day when the phone call came through. Bridget answered the phone, took the message, and called the others into Isaac’s office. Larry had been dealing with paperwork, entering his day’s activities into his laptop; Wendy was doing the same, although her typing was woeful, and her spelling was suspect. She was pleased that Bridget would fix it up for her afterwards, a ten-minute job for her, an infinity for her.
Isaac looked at the clock on the wall. It was nine-thirty in the evening, another hour for him in the office. He’d been running through the investigation so far, messaging his contact at Serious and Organised Crime.
‘It’s serious,’ Bridget said as she took the seat in the far corner of the office. Wendy sat down alongside her, Larry remained standing and leaning against the door.
‘What is it?’ Isaac said.
‘A phone call from the Irish police.’
‘Why would they phone us?’
‘Seamus Gaffney.’
‘He visits every few weeks,’ Larry said. ‘A family man who commutes to Ireland on a regular basis. Devoted to his wife, and I asked the Garda, the Irish police, to keep tabs on him.’
‘They found his rental car five kilometres from the airport, Gaffney inside.’
‘Dead?’ Larry said.
‘Two bullets to the head.’
‘Cojocaru?’ Wendy said.
Larry looked ashen-faced. ‘First Rasta Joe and now Gaffney,’ he said.
‘Occupational hazard,’ Isaac said. ‘He probably found out something he shouldn’t have. Any contact with him, Larry?’
‘Not since the last time I met with him. If he had found out something, he was either keeping it to himself, or he was aiming to see who’d pay the most.’
‘Assume the latter. Larry, get yourself over to Ireland. There should be a flight tonight.’
‘It’ll be tight. Bridget, update me on the way. Contact, phone numbers, and book a hotel close to where I’m heading.’
‘Get to Dublin, rent a car. I’ll place an order on the rental company, should save you some time.’
Larry left the office; Isaac phoned DCS Goddard to update him. ‘Forewarned, forearmed,’ Goddard replied. ‘His death is not likely to be major news, or is it?’
‘It’s unlikely, but whoever killed him and for whatever reason is worried.’
‘So are we. Cojocaru?’
‘Too obvious,’ Isaac said. ‘And the man knows we’ve been keeping a watch on him. Bridget will check out the flights to Ireland, see if Antonescu or Becali have been there, although the man has others who could have killed Gaffney.’
‘Stay with it. I’ll consider how to keep the commissioner off our backs. The man’s death in Ireland is another complication we could do without.’
‘It means that someone’s frightened. The question is what did he find out.’
Isaac turned to the other two in his office. ‘We’ve got some work to do. Five minutes, get a coffee, and let’s see what we’ve got.’
It was going to be a long night, and the meeting with Cojocaru was scheduled for the next day at a pub outside London. It had been intended for Larry to go with him, but Isaac knew that wasn’t possible, and he wasn’t going to cancel the meeting.
Upon her return, with a cup for him as well, he spoke to Wendy. ‘How do you feel about meeting a vicious thug tomorrow?’
‘He won’t be the first I’ve met.’
‘He makes the West Indians look like
