‘Suspected.’
It didn’t ring true to Wendy; somehow someone had told the woman. It hadn’t been reported yet, not officially, and outside of the police station, few people would have known.
‘The truth.’
‘Gabbi contacted me, told me that Gareth had been arrested and that he was likely to be charged with murder.’
At least that was true, Wendy knew. She had phoned Gabbi herself, told her that her former husband was in custody, yet the case wasn’t watertight, not at that time, and the man had figured out that it had been his former wife who had helped the police.
‘Gareth Rees and your daughter were more than friends. They had, according to Rees, a casual sexual relationship. Also, he was involved in organising the clients for her, ensuring that the monies were paid in advance.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Which brings up the question as to where they met and why Gabbi gravitated to your brothel after Rees had kicked her out.’
‘I always thought it was Analyn who told her about here. It was she that introduced her to me.’
‘A natural, Gabbi?’
‘I had no complaints. She wasn’t here long, though. I liked her, the same as I liked Analyn. None of the coarseness of the others, not like Janice or Cathy.’
‘Men haters, Janice and Cathy?’
‘Not Janice, but Cathy could have been. Janice could be selective about who she went with; Cathy never was.’
‘More money, the more disgusting the act?’
‘If the girls negotiated extra, I’d not know.’
‘Cathy was more desperate?’
‘Always.’
‘Let’s come back to Rees and Amanda,’ Wendy said.
The two women were sat in the sofas that had previously served as platforms for the available women to show their wares when the place had been in business. Back then, scantily-dressed women, voluptuous, bright red lipstick, the suggestion of unbridled passion, the lustful looks of the males. But now, two women discussing the murder of a daughter, and in Mary Wilton’s case, the futility of her life.
‘If Analyn had known Gabbi, she would have told her about this place,’ Mary Wilton repeating what she had said previously.
‘Which means either in England or else in the Philippines. We know that Rees was spending time with Amanda. He was also in the company of Analyn in Godstone.’
Wendy was still concerned that Gabbi Gaffney had hidden secrets; something wasn’t right.
‘I can’t help you,’ the former madam said.
Wendy was sure that she couldn’t. As she left the house, she felt that she would never see the woman again. It was an unsettling feeling, a premonition. It disturbed her.
***
Isaac sat in his office, hunched over his laptop. The worst part of a police officer’s life, the paperwork. The paperless office, the automation of processes that had been promised in the new streamlined police force, hadn’t eventuated.
Apart from the report on the department’s progress in the current murder enquiries, he still had to deal with health and safety, training for his people, preparation of budgets, requests for more personnel; or, more often, a cogent argument as to why he could not manage with fewer people, either as a result of natural attrition or because of the generous retirement packages offered to those approaching the ends of their careers, Wendy, the person most often mentioned as someone who should hand over her badge, receive the customary farewell, a speech from the chief superintendent, a few drinks, and out of the door.
Isaac did not want his sergeant to go, not yet, and on the last three attempts to remove her from Challis Street, he had managed to ensure that she stayed.
Larry spent time with Bill Ross over at Canning Town, attempting to find out more about Ian Naughton, although with three members of the gang that they had paid to kill Hector Robinson dead and gone, the others couldn’t be found.
The two men discussed the case, the reason for Hector Robinson’s murder, as well as the deaths of Waylon Conroy and Sean Garvey. Murder needs a motive, but motives are often obscure. Jealousy, an argument, money, love, hatred, were all motives, but Sean Garvey, who evoked no emotions other than loathing from Ross, had no reason to die. Not that the area wasn’t better off without him, but there were thousands in London living pointless lives.
Ross had admitted to Larry on more than one occasion that even though he had tempered his provocative and racist comments about the majority of the populace in Canning Town, it didn’t come easy. Larry knew that the man’s stay in Dagenham might be shorter than he would like.
Larry felt that he was wasting time with Ross and that he could not admit to liking his fellow inspector; the man carried too much angst, and too much time in his company was negative. He shook the man’s hand, wished him well and returned to Challis Street.
***
It would have required a Herculean effort by Richard Goddard and Lord Charles Shaw, but in the department, a copy of Gareth Rees’s military record, a transcript of the man’s court-martial.
Both documents, while substantially complete, also had large parts blacked out. However, Homicide, and specifically Isaac, were pleased to have the documents in their possession.
Bridget had photocopied them, given copies to each of the team.
‘The salient points,’ Isaac said, knowing that Bridget would have separated the wheat from the chaff, the items of interest from the verbiage of a court-martial.
‘Gareth Rees, an exemplary record of service, had served in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as other countries, most of them blacked out, although he had been in Africa on a couple of occasions.’
‘To do what?’ Wendy asked.
‘Unspecified.’
‘Which means behind enemy lines, undercover, sanctioned assassinations,’ Isaac said.
‘There is a name.’
‘Of who?’
‘It’s in the transcript of the court-martial,’ Bridget said. ‘The charge against Rees is not to do with collateral damage, nor
