Last Breath (Detective Erika Foster #4)

‘I heard you were there when he died?’

‘I was in his office, having a go at him, when he collapsed,’ said Erika.

‘So you nagged him to death?’ said Marsh, deadpan.

‘Very funny.’

They got to the gates, and Erika saw the police car waiting to take her and Melanie back.

‘Come on, I’m taking you for lunch,’ she said, putting her arm through his. ‘I want to hear everything, and I want to pick your brains about a case I’m working on.’





Chapter Fifty-Six





They walked into the centre of Greenwich and found a smart little café. They ordered large coffees and a full English Breakfast each.

‘I know you’re not a man for details, but I’m shocked you’ve been suspended,’ said Erika when they were settled in a booth in the corner.

‘Brutally honest as always,’ he said, adjusting the cutlery awkwardly.

‘What happened exactly?’

He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been suspended because the Met has suddenly decided to go after the Gadd family for money laundering on their import/export business. You remember the Gadd family when we were working over at Lewisham?’

‘I remember being in hot water for crashing Paul Gadd’s mother’s funeral wake to track down a witness,’ said Erika.

Marsh grinned ruefully. ‘Yes. I haven’t forgotten that. Took a lot of smoothing over.’

‘So what is the deal with the family?’ asked Erika.

‘For the past twenty-five years, the Met has turned a blind eye to some of their activities in return for information. Officially, the Gadd family run the contracts for recycling paper and plastics in and around London. They also own a warehouse complex out at the Isle of Dogs, used for import/export.’

‘So, they’re mafia?’ said Erika.

‘They don’t deal in drugs or weapons. It’s mainly black market cigarettes, alcohol…’

‘What about the recycling business?’

‘That’s a hundred per cent legit, and it’s very lucrative. They take in collections London-wide from the council and they sort it before it’s exported to China.’

They paused when their food arrived, a posh version of a full English breakfast, which came arranged artfully on the plate with the baked beans snug in their own little ramekin. They tucked into their food for a moment.

‘Okay, so what are you accused of? Taking bribes from the Gadd family?’ asked Erika, buttering some toast.

‘No, no, no.’ He took a sip of coffee and looked uncomfortable. ‘Now, bear in mind that when I was promoted to Chief Superintendent, I inherited staff, infrastructure, budgets…’

‘I know how it works…’

‘I also inherited my predecessor’s relationship with Paul Gadd. He’s seventy now, but still very much active in the family business. There was an arrangement in place whereby certain deliveries would come into their warehouses which Customs and Excise would turn a blind eye to.’

‘You don’t work for Customs and Excise.’

‘But I could have officers briefed to help, shall we say, disguise or divert attention, nothing dangerous, just to help to keep it away from prying eyes…’

‘Okay.’

‘Erika, everyone knew about this. It was an open secret. But as you know, things change, and when Camilla became Assistant Commissioner, she was eager to make her mark, curry favour with top civil servants and the government. Her husband is great pals with our Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Camilla saw an opportunity to claw back half a billion in unpaid tax duty from the Gadd family. An enquiry was launched, heads have rolled. My head is one of them.’

‘Can the Gadd family afford half a billion?’

‘They can afford a large chunk of it if they cut a deal with Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise. And Camilla scores a high profile win for the police.’

‘But, of course, it’s not really a win, is it?’ said Erika.

Marsh shook his head. ‘The flip side of our agreement with the Gadd family is that we’ve been able to control what comes into London via the river. They’ve helped us keep the doors shut on billions of illegal drugs flooding into the city. Now that all stops, and the Met is going to be stretched to the limit both physically and financially to deal with it.’

‘More than half a billion…’ They chewed their food for a moment. ‘Are you okay, Paul?’

‘Not really. I’m on gardening leave, but I’ve got no bloody garden. Marcie has taken the twins to France with her mother. They’re staying in our cottage. She can’t bear the shame of being seen by the other woman, locally.’

‘She still wants a divorce?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Sorry,’ said Erika. She took a large forkful of food. ‘Where does Sparks fit in with all this?’

‘Sparks?’

‘Camilla was having him investigated too. Thought he was taking backhanders: Simon Douglas-Brown came up.’

‘Bloody hell, it is a witch-hunt,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘What happens now?’

‘I wait for a tribunal, which could take months.’

‘I’m sorry.’

They ate for a moment, watching the traffic go past on the road. An idea dawned on Erika, and her heart began to race.

‘When you worked with the Gadd family, you had a contact?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘Have you heard about the case I’m working on?’

‘The girls found dead in the dumpsters?’

‘Yes. I’ve been trying to find a link, something to tie the case together. The body of each victim has been left in an identical dumpster, and I’m wondering what if the killer works for the company which supplies the dumpsters? This could explain the random locations where he leaves them. What’s the company called?’

‘I don’t know; the Gadds run umbrella companies…’

‘Can you get me the info?’

‘I can tell you now, but this is strictly off-the-record.’

‘Okay, what will it cost me?’

‘Give me your fried bread, and I’ll call it quits.’

She smiled and passed it over to him. He smiled back at her, and thought, as he did often, that she was the one who’d got away.





Chapter Fifty-Seven





It had been an awkward day at work for Darryl. He had felt Bryony’s attentions keenly. Every time he looked up from his work, he would see her, staring at him across the partition. She then left early for lunch, returning with sandwiches and coffee for them both. She’d bought him egg and cress, which he hated, and for herself cheese and onion, which didn’t bode well for their ‘date’ later that evening.

When they had their weekly departmental meeting that afternoon, she’d saved him a seat next to her in the conference room. During the meeting, she’d slid a note across the table, which read:

Can’t wait 4 2nite Bryony x



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