Vicary saw a slender, middle-aged woman emerge from the shed, followed by an equally slender woman in her early twenties; both had hard faces and cold eyes, and could have been mother and daughter, though Vicary doubted that that would prove to be the case. Fathers and sons in mutual villainy. . but mothers and daughters. . rare, very rare in his experience.
‘The Bill?’ the older woman asked.
‘Yes, making enquiries about Curtis Yates.’
‘Why?’ Her voice was hard-edged.
‘We believe he might be able to help us in our enquiries. We understand he has the property rental business in Kilburn and this business — ’ Vicary pointed to the yard — ‘importing and exporting to Europe, and they provide an income sufficient to support a large house in Surrey. What goes to Europe and what comes back from Europe?’
‘This is a legitimate business!’ The younger woman snapped. ‘Kosher.’
‘And you are?’
‘Felicity Skidmore.’
‘Ah. . now that name rings bells. Didn’t you look after the office in Kilburn after Mr Dunwoodie was attacked and murdered?’
‘Yes, just two days; got another manager there now. I’m an East End girl, I don’t like going out of the East End. We don’t travel well ’cos we’ve already arrived. How do you know I was there anyway?’
‘My officers visited. I read their recording.’
‘Oh, you write everything down?’
‘Everything. I’ll be writing this down.’ He turned to the older woman. ‘You’ll be the governor?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your name, please.’
‘Gail Bowler.’
‘You must have known Mr Dunwoodie?’
‘Yes, wrong place at the wrong time. It happens.’
‘You think?’
‘What other explanation is there?’
‘That he was targeted. You see, it was following up the leads in the Dunwoodie murder that we found out that Mr Pilcher, is also known as Curtis Yates. . interesting why he should use an alias. . and the witness-’
‘Witness!’ Gail Bowler sounded alarmed. ‘You have a witness to Dunwoodie’s murder?’
‘Yes. A very good one — gave a very good description of Mr Dunwoodie’s attacker. In fact, since I am here, I wonder if you could look at the E-FIT we have compiled based on the witness testimony.’ Vicary took a brown envelope from his inside jacket pocket, and from it he extracted a glossy E-FIT showing a bald-headed, moon-faced man which he handed to Gail Bowler. She took it and smiled. ‘No, I don’t know him.’
‘We think he’s about twenty years of age — a youth, high on drugs maybe, or someone sent to attack Dunwoodie.’
‘Well, I don’t recognize him.’
‘How about you, Miss Skidmore?’
Felicity Skidmore took the E-FIT and glanced at it. ‘Nope.’ Though she too showed some amusement, or some relief, at the sight of the E-FIT. She handed it to Vicary.
‘Gentlemen.’ Vicary handed the E-FIT to the two overall-clad men, who both seemed anxious to look at it, and again, both held it, looked at it and smiled as they viewed it.
‘Sorry, squire.’ The taller of the two men handed the E-FIT back to Vicary. ‘No recognition.’
‘Thank you anyway.’ Vicary slid the E-FIT back into the envelope. ‘We’ll ask around Kilburn, but since I was here I thought I’d take the opportunity. . just on the off chance.’
‘So, just the one geezer attacked Dunwoodie?’ Gail Bowler said, smart in a grey suit.
‘According to the witness.’
‘He wasn’t a big man.’ Gail Bowler spoke with a marked degree of satisfaction. ‘He couldn’t have put up much of a fight. One man could easily have done it.’
‘Seems so.’ Vicary paused. ‘So this is part of Yates’s empire?’
‘Possibly.’ Bowler again became defensive.
‘I see.’
‘Vicary? You said your name was Vicary?’
‘Yes, Detective Inspector, New Scotland Yard, Murder and Serious Crime Squad. Do tell Mr Yates I was asking after him.’
‘We will, don’t worry.’
‘How long have you been working for Mr Yates?’
‘A little while,’ Bowler replied.
Vicary glanced across at the two men and then at Felicity Skidmore. ‘Same,’ the tall man said, ‘a little while.’
‘Well, do be careful.’
‘Careful? Why?’ Gail Bowler asked with a note of fear in her voice.
‘Because,’ Vicary replied, ‘because, you see, people who move in his circle. . how shall I put this? They tend to disappear. . or get murdered.’
‘You don’t say.’
‘I do say. You see, the gofer of Mr Yates, Michael Dalkeith by name — strange story. You know he actually lay down in the snow on Hampstead Heath, as though he was committing suicide, but he lay down right on top of a shallow grave which concealed the corpse of a lady called Halkier, Rosemary Halkier, who we believe was romantically involved with Mr Yates when she went missing. It was as though Michael Dalkeith was leading us to her grave, and then at the same time, Mr Curtis Yates’s old cook, Mrs O’Shea, went missing. . and Mr Dunwoodie was beaten to death, and he was employed by Mr Yates. . and the Welsh runaway who was found strangled in a room of a house belonging to Mr Yates. So, you see what I mean? He doesn’t sound like the man you’d want to take home to meet your parents. Anyway. . I’ll say good day.’
Vicary turned and walked back to his car, which stood at an oblique angle to Continental Imports/Exports, and he saw out of the corner of his eye the two men and the two women walk into the garden shed, doubtless to make a phone call. He smiled. He thought he seemed to have put the cat amongst the pigeons quite nicely. ‘Just wait and see what springs out of the woodwork now,’ he said as he unlocked the door of his car. ‘Just wait and see.’
That afternoon Vicary sat with his team in his office in New Scotland Yard; he glanced at Yewdall, Ainsclough, Brunnie and Swannell. ‘I took a leaf out of Frankie’s book,’ he said. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘No, sir, reckon everyone knows anyway.’ Frankie Brunnie held up his hands.
‘Frankie’s method of obtaining Curtis Yates’s fingerprints nudged the boundaries of questionable practice, but the upshot is that A-Ten are not taking any action.’
The team members grinned at Brunnie and Penny Yewdall gave him the thumbs-up sign.
‘And whether Frankie’s actions brought on the murder of J.J. Dunwoodie. . well, we’ll probably never know. . and Frankie could not have foreseen the consequences. As I said, I took a bit of a leaf out of his book — out of Frankie’s book — and visited Curtis Yates’s import and export company in the East End. Four people were there. . one was Felicity Skidmore. . the others I don’t know. Anyway, I showed them an E-FIT of a thug we are looking for in an isolated and unconnected case, and told them it was the E-FIT of the person we want to talk to in connection with the Dunwoodie murder. They all looked very pleased when they saw the E-FIT because it clearly didn’t look anything like Rusher or Clive “The Pox” Sherwin. So, I think I gave them the clear impression that we were not just barking up the wrong tree, we were in the wrong part of the forest entirely, but more importantly, they were obliging enough to take hold of the E-FIT, each in turn.’
‘Fingerprints!’ Yewdall said in a hushed but excited tone.
‘Yes, which is what I meant when I said that I took a leaf from Frankie’s book.’ He smiled at Brunnie. ‘You put me on the right track there, Frankie. Well. .’ he tapped sheets of computer printout which lay on his desk. ‘The upshot is that all are known to us. Felicity Skidmore has two priors for possession of cannabis. . small fines. . but her prints are on file. The other woman. . I thought she and Felicity Skidmore were a mother and daughter team. . she is one Gail Bowling, though she told me her name was Gail Bowler. Now, she is one very interesting lady, a right madam by the look of her track. She’s fifty-three years old, started when she was a teenager. . shoplifting, receiving stolen goods. . she worked the streets and has convictions for soliciting, then she stopped being a brass and started running them and got five years for living on immoral earnings, which always means she was the top Tom in a brothel — the old brass that runs the younger brasses. Then she did ten years for possession with intent to supply.’