Black Daffodil (Trevor Joseph Detective series) (7 page)

‘You have no idea how expensive the best is.’ He detected a slight catch in her voice.

‘You have the emergency number safe?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve given it to your mother?’

‘Stop worrying. I’m fine. I saw your other half’s other half last night. We went out for a meal.’

‘Is she OK?’

‘Missing her paramour almost as much as we’re missing you. Tell him she said it was good to eat in a healthy place for a change.’

‘I’ll pass on the message. Take care of yourselves. Long to see you.’

‘And me you, although it’s only been a day and a half. Remember, we both love and need you very much.’

‘Love you back.’ Trevor ended the call, took out the Sim card and cracked it between his fingers. There was a McDonald’s on the way back to the city. Peter would want to drop in there. He’d never known a man so addicted to fast food. And a bin in a public toilet was a good place to dump incriminating evidence.

He returned to the car. Peter was still in the driving seat, listening to the news on the radio. He’d opened all the windows and was thoughtfully holding his cigar outside the car. He looked quizzically at Trevor.

‘She’s fine, they both are.’ Trevor sat beside him. ‘She and Daisy went out for a meal.’ Trevor opened the glove compartment, retrieved the Sim card he had put in there and returned it to his phone. ‘Daisy commented that it was nice to eat healthily for once.’

‘Irritating woman lives on carrots, spinach and lettuce leaves.’

‘She looks fantastic on it.’ Trevor closed the back of his cell phone and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s only two o’clock. We don’t have to be in the city until four. Why don’t you call her?’

‘In my own good time.’

‘It wouldn’t kill you to admit you’re besotted.’

‘I feel guilty as hell leaving those two babies in that council flat.’ Peter turned the key in the ignition.

‘They’re experienced officers and I should have known better than to bring up a personal subject with you.’

‘Those jokers might not be the only the dealers operating on the estate looking to get at Chris and Sarah for having their nose pushed out of joint.’

‘The front door on the flat is solid. They’re armed,’ Trevor reminded him. ‘Provided they don’t make the mistake of opening it to the wrong people again, they’ll be fine until morning. We can look in on them again then. Did Andrew say anything about telling the locals they’re undercover when you passed on the location of the thugs?’

‘He said that the locals have been alerted that Chris is an-ex con. They’ve been warned to leave him and his girlfriend alone unless the situation is life-threatening because serious crimes is hoping Chris can lead them to a major dealer.’

‘So the locals won’t interfere?’

‘Not unless bullets fly or Andrew calls them again. He said the police patrols on the estate were told not to show a higher than normal profile before or after Chris and Sarah moved in, for fear of frightening off the big man.’

‘How did Andrew intend to explain away our call about the thugs we left in the ground floor flat?’

‘By telling them the tip-off came from one of the big man’s henchmen who’d been ordered to clear the decks of local operators so Chris and Sarah could begin trading.’ Peter took a tin from the side pocket in the car door.

‘I suppose a big man in the background would make any other dealers’ pet thugs wary of tackling Chris and Sarah.’

‘With luck, after our success in taking those scumbags out of circulation, the opposition will have one of us down as the big man.’ Peter squashed his cigar in the tin.

‘Will the local force buy the story?’

‘Bent or straight, I see no reason why they shouldn’t.’ Peter closed the tin and returned it to the side pocket.

‘Smoking is a filthy habit,’ Trevor said.

‘So Daisy keeps telling me.’ Peter put the car into gear and reversed.

‘Do it around my offspring and I’ll throttle you.’

‘I don’t doubt you will. Back to the city?’

‘Via Macdonald’s.’

‘You hate burgers.’

‘Their coffee’s good and I want to get rid of the Sim card.’

‘I’d forgotten how careful you have to be about every nit-picking, microscopic thing; and how it plays on your nerves.’

‘Even all expenses paid in a five-star hotel?’

‘Especially in a five-star hotel, all-expenses-paid,’ Peter answered. ‘Can you think of a less likely place you and I could afford to move into semi-permanently?’

‘The taste of luxury has spoiled you for everyday life?’

‘Knowing the only people who can afford the kind of luxury we’re living in are the bad guys.’

‘Everyday life has compensations five-star hotels don’t,’ Trevor smiled.

Peter saw the smile. ‘Only for those who believe life is fair and crime doesn’t pay.’

Chapter Seven

Peter and Trevor found Jude Williams working with weights in the main area of the gym. He saw them and made a show of lifting the bar high above his head before dropping it on the stand.

‘What do you think?’ He climbed off the bench and waved his arm expansively.

‘About what?’ Trevor was mystified by the question.

‘Is this the sort of place you’d like to take out full membership?’

Trevor saw people watching them and realised Jude was providing an explanation for his and Peter’s presence. He hadn’t considered that Jude might be a member of staff but it made sense for a minor dealer to hold down two part-time jobs. It would double his customer base. And selling gym membership and conducting tours of the facilities would give Jude a convenient cover to set up meetings with suppliers and customers.

Trevor nodded. ‘From what I’ve seen. I might consider joining if I leave the hotel.’

‘I’d say the standard of this gym is on a par with that of a five-star hotel.’ Jude picked up a towel and slung it around his neck.

‘How do you know where we’re staying?’ Trevor asked suspiciously. There was only one five-star hotel on the bay.

‘I asked around.’

Peter gave up waiting for Trevor to introduce him and offered Jude his hand. ‘Peter Ashton.’

‘Jude was worried about you last night. He thought you’d invented a system to beat the blackjack dealer. I told him you average an annual five grand loss.’

‘Last year it was nearer ten.’ Peter winced as Jude closed his fingers around his. ‘Some grip you have there.’

‘Sorry, used to guys who work out.’

‘Not wimps like me.’ Peter parried his hard look.

‘Join and I’ll come up with a tailor made exercise and diet plan that will turn you into …’

‘An even more handsome Adonis?’ Peter interrupted.

Jude backed down. ‘Want the full tour?’

‘Why not?’ Trevor gazed at the treadmills, exercise bikes, elliptical trainers and stepping and rowing machines. He saw Peter looking at them and wondered if the same thought was going through his mind. The hollow tubing of an average exercise machine could be used to conceal a sizeable shipment of drugs. Perhaps he’d been on the job too long. Not so much meeting trouble halfway, but seeing it when it wasn’t there.

‘This place is well-equipped and, as it’s pretty close to office closing time, it doesn’t seem to be over-used,’ Trevor remarked.

‘Come back at six. We operate a booking system on some of the machines.’

‘What else you got here?’ Peter asked.

‘Hot tubs, sauna, swimming pool, massage – straight massage,’ Jude added in response to Peter’s leer. They left the workout area and walked down a corridor lined with curtained cubicles. Most of the curtains were open and half a dozen men were conducting a conversation about football while being oiled and pummelled by a team of male and female masseurs. Jude hadn’t lied about the ‘straight massage’. Judging by their looks, the masseurs had been chosen solely for their skill.

‘Cold pool,’ Jude opened a door and showed them a deserted white tiled room with a pool in the centre.

‘More like a bloody fridge pool.’ Peter retreated from the blast of freezing air.

‘Hot tub.’ Jude opened another door. Steam wafted out to meet them from an empty, bubbling tub. ‘We have twelve rooms like this, each hot tub can seat six, but we have a corporate one that caters for twelve, fifteen if you’re prepared to get cosy.’

‘Convivial as long as none of your colleagues have any nasty skin diseases,’ Peter observed.

‘We have to enter the pool area through the changing rooms.’ Jude took them down another corridor and pushed a door marked MALE CHANGING ROOM.

It was deserted. Jude turned a corner, pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked a second door. ‘Staff quarters.’ He opened a locker and lifted out a brochure. ‘Here you are, Mr Brown. All the details of the club are in there, including individual and corporate membership fees.’

Trevor flicked through the pages. The last one was thicker than the others. When he examined it he saw two had been stuck together. He peeled back the corner of the topmost one and saw rows of pills encased in cellophane. He realised why Black Daffodil had acquired its name. They were shaped like daffodil trumpets.

‘Ninety,’ Jude whispered. ‘I may not be able to get more before the rights are sold. It’s rumoured the deadline on the auction of the formula is close.’

‘The Havana cigars I promised you.’ Trevor took a wooden cigar box from his pocket and handed it to Jude.

Jude flipped the lid. ‘Good to do business with you, Mr Brown.’ He stowed the box in his locker, turned the key and led the way back, stopping to lock the door to the staff quarters.

‘Will we see you in the casino tonight?’ Trevor asked.

‘My night off. I’ll be there tomorrow.’ He raised his voice. ‘The pool is through here. You’ll have to stay behind the footbath.’

‘Excuse me.’ A plump, short, balding man, with a towel tied around his waist, pushed past as they entered the shower area, only to back off when Peter glared. ‘Sorry, Jude. Didn’t realise you were showing people round.’

‘Prospective members,’ Jude explained.

Trevor held up the brochure. ‘Impressive facilities.’

‘Best in the city,’ the man looked at Trevor and Peter for a moment. ‘Excuse me.’ He disappeared into the changing room.

Peter looked pointedly at his watch. ‘We have another meeting.’

Trevor led the way back to the changing room. ‘If you walk us out Jude, we can discuss that corporate membership.’

‘As I said, Mr Brown, I’m not sure we can cater for the numbers you are looking to place.’

‘We have a very large customer base, very large,’ Trevor emphasised. ‘We’re hoping to supply all of them with regular sessions.’

‘I will be in a position to give you a better idea tomorrow.’

‘We’ll discuss exact numbers then. But, as my colleague has pointed out, we’re late for a meeting. I’ve learned not to keep estate agents waiting.’

‘You buying property here?’ Jude fished.

‘Looking at a penthouse on the bay.’ Trevor headed towards the main door of the building.

Peter pulled out his phone and opened it. ‘Vibrate.’ He explained when Jude looked at him. ‘Text just arrived.’ He hit a few buttons and held the phone high to get a better view of the screen. ‘Do you have a bar or restaurant here?’

Trevor checked the time. It was almost five and they needed to get the pills to Andrew ASAP so he could ferry them to the lab.

‘Juice and salad bar in the basement,’ Jude answered.

‘No alcohol – no fast food?’ Peter continued to fiddle with his phone.

‘You can’t get faster food than salad. You only have to wash it in mineral water. And alcohol wouldn’t be healthy in a gym.’

‘No point in getting fit if you can’t abuse your body afterwards.’ Peter closed his phone and returned it to his pocket.

‘I have a client coming in at five. See you again, gentlemen.’ Jude left them at the door.

‘What was the text about?’ Trevor asked when they were outside.

‘Later.’ Peter unlocked their car.

‘As we’re going to arrive after closing, thanks to you, I’ll phone the agents.’ Trevor speed-dialled the number.

‘Jones Jones and Watkins how may I help you?’

Trevor recognised the voice of the girl they had met that morning.

‘Trevor Brown. I need to clarify a few points with Mr Horton.’

‘We’re about to close, Mr Brown. If you’d like to ring back in the morning …’

‘This won’t take a moment. It could make the difference between closing a deal and looking elsewhere.’

‘I’ll put you through, Mr Brown.’

‘Andy Horton.’

Trevor climbed into the car alongside Peter. ‘I have to see you right away, Mr Horton. Could we call round in the next ten minutes?’

‘As long as it is ten minutes, Mr Brown.’ Trevor knew Andrew was talking for the benefit of the staff when he added, ‘the rest of the staff are about to leave for the day. Knock on the door when you arrive.’

‘I appreciate your time, Mr Horton.’

‘So what was all that discussion about a bar?’ Trevor asked Peter as they left the centre of the city and headed for the bay.

‘You didn’t see him?’

‘See who?’ Trevor asked irritably.

‘Could be something, might be nothing. Tell you later.’

‘There are times when I wish someone other than me would work with you.’

Peter grinned at him. ‘Admit it, you love me really.’

Andrew opened the door when he saw Trevor and Peter step on the mezzanine. He ushered them straight into his inner office. To Trevor’s surprise Alfred and Dan were there.

‘Alfred will be leaving in ten minutes in case anyone’s watching, which will have given him exactly fifteen minutes here.’ Dan informed them.

‘Apparently I’ve put down a deposit on a flat. A studio resale on the second floor of a five-year-old block,’ Alfred folded a sheaf of papers and pushed them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. ‘No five-star accommodation for poor me.’

Dan came straight to the point. ‘Andrew said you might have Black Daffodils.’

Trevor looked quizzically at Peter.

‘I mentioned Chris and Sarah struck lucky and we were going mining for more,’ Peter perched on the edge of Andrew’s desk. It was gloomy in the office. The blinds were closed and Andrew hadn’t switched on the lights.

Trevor handed Dan the brochure and the screwed up corner of newspaper that contained the four pills Chris had acquired from Sneezy. ‘We bought the brochure from our seller. The odd ones came from the housing estate. Our seller might not be able to get more. It’s rumoured the auction of the formula is about to close. Chris and Sarah are advertising a cocaine for Black Daffodil deal that might bring in more, and hopefully a line to contacts higher up the chain.’

‘We’ve heard about the auction closing from other sources.’ Dan peeled open the back pages.

Peter looked at the pills. ‘Pretty.’

‘Very,’ Dan agreed. ‘I’ll get these to the lab. Alfred?’

‘The people I’ve met are looking for the inventor, manufacturer and developer … ‘

‘Aren’t we all,’ Peter broke in.

‘Not to waste them. A conference was held this morning. My people know they can’t outbid the Russians so they’re out to kill Black Daffodil before it hits the streets. They realise that something this cheap could wipe out their trade.’

‘It doesn’t take a genius to predict that it will do that,’ Trevor agreed.

‘They’ve arranged a meet with the seller in the club tonight so they can make him a fake offer in the hope of getting to the manufacturer so they can put a price on his head. As for the meet – other than “one hour after midnight” I’ve no idea what time, at what table, or even if it’s in the main area,’ Alfred concluded.

‘Stick to your new mates like glue,’ Dan ordered. ‘I’ve called all the operatives and asked them to be in the casino at eleven.’

‘Have you alerted the locals?’ Trevor asked.

‘No. One informant could blow this case and your covers. Alfred’s friends aren’t the only ones who are thinking waste.’ Dan hunched forward on his chair. He looked like a giant sitting on kindergarten furniture. ‘Lee called in at midday. The Chinese are also out to kill the Russian deal before it’s made. Their trade is worth millions and they’re not about to give it up.’

‘They going to make a fake offer too?’ Peter tapped a cigar from his box.

‘Lee’s trying to find out more. We gave him good credentials, but he’s the new boy from Hong Kong.’

‘Albanians still in?’ Trevor asked.

‘Upped their offer to fifty-five million this afternoon according to Justin. They’re planning to talk to the vendors in Darrow’s club tonight but he doesn’t know their identity. Markov heard that the Russians are prepared to go as high as sixty million, but he suspects that’s big talk to put off the rival bidders. Maria and Michael have been invited to dinner by the Columbians tonight.’

Peter whistled. ‘Lucky them, I love tortillas and enchiladas washed down with tequila.’

‘Michael offered to part bankroll the purchase of the formula in exchange for a share of the profits. He and Maria think the Columbians are about to make a bid.’

‘So, the Russians and Albanians want to buy. The Columbians possibly and the Chinese and Jamaicans are out to kill whoever’s making the stuff. And someone in the local Tafia passed on tainted pills.’ Trevor summarised the information Jude had given him about the tainted pills that had killed three addicts on the estate.

‘The Italians?’ Peter looked to Dan.

‘Tony has seen evidence of a trade in amphetamines, nothing else. The Dons are predicting all out war over Black Daffodil and they want to keep their operatives out of it.’

‘Wise people,’ Alfred left his chair.

‘You have the disk?’ Dan asked.

Alfred patted his pocket.

‘Get back to Andrew the minute you have an ID on the manufacturer or vendor …’

‘I’ll fix a meeting,’ Alfred assured him.

‘Even if it’s four in the morning,’ Dan cautioned.

‘No respect for my beauty sleep,’ Andrew grumbled.

‘How can you respect anyone who dreams about little balls rolling across greens when there are so many erotic things to fantasise about,’ Peter chipped in.

Dan moved to the chair behind the desk when Andrew showed Alfred out.

‘What about the Asians?’ Trevor asked.

‘Tom has come across evidence of people-trafficking for the sweat shop and take-away trade and tax fraud. Nothing that links them to Black Daffodil. On the face of it, they’re not interested. We’re preparing to second him to the trafficking team.’

‘The Somalis?’ Peter recalled all the options that had been covered at the briefing.

‘Too concerned with importing khat and growing hash to concern themselves with anything else. The small-time criminal fraternity on the Bay – mixed ethnicity not solely Somali or much of any one race – is a closed community. Milgi and Eidi haven’t come up with anything either. All the indications point to Black Daffodil being a home-grown Welsh product.’

‘Not least the name,’ Trevor mused.

‘Upstairs asked the locals to step up their efforts to track down everyone who was at that party in the penthouse who might have seen the assault on Jake. Or Jake and Alec spending time with any particular group of people. From the statements they’ve taken so far, you’d think it was a church youth club get-together. Given the number of witnesses who saw and heard that party from the street and the number of guests questioned, it beggars belief that they can’t find a soul prepared to tell us what went on there.’