Post Mortem, Gary Bell [best fiction novels .txt] 📗

I shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of lager. ‘Just something I heard.’

‘Heard where?’

‘Oh, you know. On the street.’

‘The street?’ She smiled. ‘OK, Columbo, you’ve snagged my interest. What else have you heard chasing hot leads on the mean city streets?’

‘It all comes back to this county lines operation,’ I said. ‘These Cutthroats, the gang involved in Zara’s drug trial, are organised, Lydia. Organisation is essential, but it can also be a weakness.’

She clasped her hands together, leaning closer and lowering her voice. ‘In what way?’

‘The dog,’ I said. ‘Charli’s dog. Biggie. Did you ever see it?’

‘God yes.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Some kind of white pit bull, the size of a horse. I don’t want to sound like a heartless bitch, but I think somebody did those kids a favour getting that thing out of the house. It wasn’t exactly the sort of animal you’d want loose around a toddler. She had to lock it in a separate room when I visited last month.’

‘Exactly!’ I said. ‘Only, it wasn’t a pit bull. It was an incredibly rare, banned breed. A Dogo Argentino. Deacon Walker gave the Meadows family that dog as a gift. Now, under ordinary circumstances, it would never have struck me as important. But it’s the breed, Lydia. This gang, wherever they go, however far their tentacles have already reached, there’s always a big white dog waiting at the end of the line. It’s like a calling card. A symbol of their power, perhaps, the mark of their organisation. Unfortunately for them, it’s also the link connecting their operation. I suspect that they chose this rare breed to stand out, but anything so rare can be traced.’

She seemed genuinely amazed. ‘Traced to where?’

‘Jacob Werner.’

‘And who on earth is Jacob Werner?’

‘He’s a sadistic little bastard operating out of Croydon,’ I said. ‘A worm. I’ve represented him a few times over the years, always for some low-grade, slimy shit. A few weeks ago, he was brought to me on a charge of breeding dangerous dogs. From what I gather, he breeds pit bull terriers for semi-professional fighting, but he also has some sort of contract to breed these rare Dogo Argentinos for county lines defence.’

‘Wow.’ She leaned back in her chair and finished the first of her drinks. ‘You really are Columbo. But if you’re right, and this particular breed of white dog is bred for county lines dealers, and Meadows had one of these dogs … Well, that doesn’t exactly help our case, does it? In fact, it only suggests that she really was one of their dealers and enforcers, as the prosecution have been suggesting all along.’

‘You’re right. It doesn’t help our case at all,’ I said. ‘Neither does the fact that Deacon Walker conducted his business from an Audi with the registration DM1, not DW1, which would have been the obvious choice for his initials.’

Lydia slid her second drink towards her, stirring ice. ‘What relevance does that have?’

‘Charli told me that this Audi wasn’t really Deacon’s car at all. That he sometimes borrowed it for part-time hours as an Uber driver. I didn’t believe her at the time, but now I’m starting to suspect that it really was loaned to him, and for something more sinister than taxiing passengers.’

‘Loaned to him by who?’

‘DM,’ I said slowly. ‘Delroy Meadows.’

‘Why would Delroy lend his car to his sister’s boyfriend? And, even if he did, what does that matter to us? More to the point, why wouldn’t Charli just tell you that the car belonged to her brother?’

‘Perhaps Deacon Walker worked for Delroy Meadows,’ I said, thinking out loud. ‘Maybe he borrowed the car for running Delroy’s part of the distribution line and, somewhere along the way, he fell into a relationship with Charli.’

‘It’s an interesting story,’ Lydia said, wincing a little as if she was struggling to keep up, ‘but where does it take us?’

I took a deep breath and checked the mirror behind her for anyone standing near. Then, satisfied that we had the corner to ourselves, I lowered my voice. ‘Have you ever heard of a man called Roy Macey?’

‘The name rings a bell. Some old villain, before my time. Krays era, I’d guess.’

‘A little later than that,’ I said. ‘Seventies, early eighties. He used to run a huge slice of the drug trade in the East End until he retired to Spain.’

‘Oh.’ She shrugged. ‘What about him?’

I leaned closer, quieter still. ‘Well, I’ve heard it said that he’s running things again.’

‘He’s back in the country? He must be in his eighties.’

‘No, I don’t think he’s back over here. But, if rumours are anything to go by, he’s attempting to unite all the postcode districts into the biggest county lines operation this country has ever seen.’

Lydia eyed me for another moment, then laughed. ‘Spooky, Elliot! You’re not serious?’

I sat upright, a little annoyed. ‘Why not?’

‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘Are you actually suggesting that we stand up in a court of law and tell the prosecution to release our client, because a drug dealer from fifty years ago is actually responsible for these murders? We’d be laughed out of the door!’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. But I heard that this entire operation is being organised by a pair of twins. Roy Macey’s twins. Apparently they’re doing the groundwork over here for him.’

‘Oh God.’ She snatched up her drink. ‘You’re going to tell me you think it’s the Meadows twins, aren’t you?’

‘Why not? The pieces fit!’

She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t mean to sound rude, but that would take more than a simple name change, Elliot. I don’t remember much about Roy Macey, but I’m pretty sure he was a white guy, and, well …’

‘I’m not suggesting that Charli and Delroy are actually Macey’s children. But what if the story has been twisted through word of mouth? What if the Meadows twins really are behind all of this, and they’ve intentionally used the Macey name to create a sort of bogeyman for everybody to fear? What if they’re