Slow Slicing (DI Bliss Book 7) Read online

  ‘Freddy Swift,’ he said, extending a hand. He wore a broad, confident smile. His clothes were casual, but expensive-looking; his short-sleeved shirt was designed to be worn untucked. The black tasselled loafers on his feet gleamed, in stark contrast to the man’s beige socks. Despite his obvious age, Swift still had a healthy head of white hair, currently slicked back and hanging over his ears. He sported two heavy gold rings, both half-sovereigns with decorative bevels. His watch screamed money, but whispered taste.

  Bliss introduced himself and Chandler, telling Swift they would like a few minutes of his time. The old lag gave a puzzled frown, but nodded and started walking deeper into the unit. He did not appear to be put out by their presence. Following Swift through another doorway, Bliss noticed a group of men gathered around a huge window that took up most of one wall, each of them peering into a brightly lit room in which a movie was clearly being filmed. A two-camera production, Bliss noticed; one establishing the long shots, another getting in close to the action. The set depicted a doctor’s office; three naked bodies writhed on an examination bed.

  ‘Take no notice of them,’ Swift said over his shoulder. ‘We always get the peepers and hangers-on in here on the days we shoot. There are some people for whom their computer screens just won’t do.’

  ‘You allow anybody in here when you’re making a film?’ Chandler asked, her revulsion evident in every word.

  ‘No, no. These chaps are relatives or friends of crew or cast, invited in to hang around, but really just getting an eyeful of the action and hoping to cop off with one of the ladies.’

  The hardcore story was obviously well under way, two women and a man going at it hot, hard and sweaty.

  ‘I’d keep your eyes averted if I were you,’ Swift said with a leery grin. ‘That chap thrusting away between the mature woman’s legs is called The Pole, and we don’t call him that because of his nationality, believe me. You catch sight of it, you’ll never look at your own equipment in quite the same way again.’

  Bliss was paying greater attention to the girl who was dutifully squeezing the breasts of the woman being screwed. Her slender frame, the cut and colour of her hair, reminded him of Molly – the Molly he had first encountered, mid-teens and already with no control of her own life. This girl’s face was twisted into what she hoped passed for excitement or passion, but her eyes were flat and lifeless. Her body was underdeveloped, and Bliss had to look away.

  They entered an office. Swift was chuckling to himself as he walked across to a desk in the corner. ‘No need for quiet on set today, either. Can you hear the racket those two are making? He squeals like he’s been sucking helium, and she sounds like Barry White. Believe me, we’ll be playing a lot of music over that footage.’

  Bliss slammed the office door behind them, rage building inside. He turned on Swift, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He wanted answers.

  ‘How old is that dark-haired kid back there?’

  ‘Lola? Old enough, Inspector. Old enough.’

  ‘Show me some evidence of that.’

  ‘Evidence?’

  ‘Yes. ID. Proof of age. Something to indicate the girl is legally able to consent.’

  Swift nodded. ‘Of course. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’

  Bliss felt his cheeks growing hot. He glared at the man, who laughed and said, ‘You show me a search warrant, I’ll show you my documentation. Besides, if she tells me she’s eighteen, who am I to argue? My punters love a bit of dubious.’

  Already horrified by what he had seen, Bliss reacted before he was able to talk himself out of it. He took two steps towards the man, grabbed him by the throat and marched him back a further two paces until Swift slammed up against the far wall.

  ‘How. Old. Is. That. Girl?’ Bliss spat the question out, each word accompanied by the dull thud of Swift’s head thumping against the painted plasterboard. Behind him he heard Chandler mutter something like, ‘Oh, shit! Here we go.’

  Swift struggled gamely with Bliss’s arms, trying to pull his hands away. His eyes narrowed, and a low snarl escaped the back of his throat. ‘Did you make a point of coming here today to have a pop at me? I might be a decade or so older than you, pal, but this old dog still has some bite.’

  Bliss fixed him with a crooked grin. ‘I’m sure you do. Even if it is with false teeth.’

  This time Chandler breathed the word ‘Jesus’ and he felt the palm of her hand on his shoulder. Bliss realised his partner might be feeling vulnerable. Freddy Swift’s advanced age suggested he was no longer the imposing figure he had once been, but he’d still be able to pull the trigger on a gun if he happened to have one tucked away in his desk drawer. Bliss clawed back his fury and decided to lighten up. He loosened his grip and took a wary step back, prepared to fend off a violent response if necessary. Instead, Swift gave him daggers and smoothed down his wrinkled clothing in silence.

  ‘Look, Mr Swift,’ Bliss said after taking a deep breath, ‘we didn’t come here to give you a hard time. But I’m telling you now, if I find out that girl out there is under age, I’ll have you for it.’

  ‘Fuck you!’ Freddy Swift shot back. ‘Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, pal.’ He regained his composure and took a seat behind the desk. ‘You’d never have tried it on with me back in the day, squire.’

  ‘I wouldn’t take any odds on that,’ Chandler said, now clasping Bliss’s arm to prevent him having another go. ‘And besides, my boss is right. We’re going to need to see documentation, or have a word with the kid before we leave.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ Swift settled back into the chair and made himself comfortable. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Now, tell me what you want, and we’ll see how best to get you both to fuck off out of here.’

  Bliss had steadied himself and was back in control. He glanced at his colleague and gave a nod of appreciation, before returning a wary gaze to Swift. ‘What we want is to follow up on a meeting you had with a Peterborough Telegraph reporter, Sandra Bannister. We’re looking into the disappearance of Ben Carlisle, and our feeling is that you may have more to offer us than you did the journalist.’

  The pair had agreed upon the lie during the ride down the M11. They would change tack if necessary, depending where the conversation took them.

  Swift scoffed by way of a response. ‘I don’t know why you’d think that. I told her everything I have to say on the matter.’

  ‘Ms Bannister says she covered an old case during your chat. Something to do with the brutal murder and torture of a woman over in Hoxton.’

  ‘Yeah. What about it?’ Swift’s bushy eyebrows rose on his gaunt face thick with creases, broken capillaries spreading like a rash from his nose out to the curves of both cheeks. Bliss noticed his fingers twitching as if seeking something familiar to do. Most likely an ex-smoker.

  ‘It’s of interest to us, Mr Swift,’ Chandler said, taking over. ‘We’re wondering if it had anything to do with why we can’t locate your friend, Ben.’

  ‘Why would it? I was the one who got interviewed as a suspect at the time. Me, not him. And it was donkey’s years ago.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Chandler pursed her lips as if this had come as a surprise. ‘In which case, what can you tell us about it?’

  ‘Exactly what I told your lot back in the day. I didn’t know the girl, I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to her, and neither did I know anybody who did.’

  ‘Really?’ Bliss said. ‘She lived in your manor. Somebody snatched her off the streets in your manor, and later dumped her and left her to die with the vermin in your manor. So it stands to reason they also beat her, tortured her, and sliced her up in your manor. And you want us to believe all that happened without you knowing about it?’

  Swift laughed, almost hacking up a lung as he coughed and spluttered until his face grew purple. ‘Who the fuck d’you think I am – Reggie
fucking Kray? Mate, a lot went down in and around where I lived that I knew fuck all about. Where I come from, you quickly learn to keep your nose out of other people’s business. If it weren’t you or yours doing it, you didn’t want to know.’

  Bliss nodded his understanding. ‘Bad for your health, I imagine.’

  ‘You got that right. And for your life expectancy.’ Swift jabbed a finger at Bliss. ‘You sound as if you lived through a bit of that yourself.’

  Bliss told him about where he grew up.

  ‘So, you know. You didn’t take liberties, and you didn’t involve yourself in things that were bugger all to do with you.’

  ‘Why do you think you were a suspect in the first place?’ Chandler asked.

  Swift left it there unanswered for half a minute, churning it over before responding. He kneaded his knuckles throughout. ‘Known associates is my best guess. You know the way it goes? If you move in the same circles as certain people, you’re considered to be part of anything and everything they get themselves webbed up in. I dare say my name came up because of somebody I knew a dozen associates down the line. As I remember it, they were pulling in everyone with a pulse.’

  ‘And yet not your mate Ben Carlisle.’

  ‘All right, so I exaggerated a bit. He wasn’t the only one of my mates not to get a tug. I’m just saying I was one of many. They threw out a wide net and I got caught up in it. I was let go, though. One interview. Short and sharp. Never called back, either.’

  Bliss ran an eye over the posters and framed photos on the walls. The posed shots mostly featured Swift with his arm wrapped around a variety of women, a few of whom even wore clothes. The publicity posters for movies were lurid, each title a sexual pun based on a Hollywood blockbuster.

  ‘Thinking back on it now, Mr Swift,’ he said, ‘did you or any of your pals have any clue as to who was involved? Mrs Price’s horrific torture lasted several days, during which time she was also brutally raped and sliced up before being dumped and left for dead. It can’t have gone unnoticed. Police swarmed all over the area after she was taken, and again after her body was discovered. I’m sure it was the talk of all the local boozers. If people didn’t know, they must have speculated.’

  Before Swift was able to reply, his phone rang. ‘My PA,’ he said, glancing down at the screen. He pressed a button and told the woman on the other end of the line not to disturb him again until he said so. ‘Sorry, where were we again?’

  Annoyed by the interruption, Bliss said, ‘I was saying that even if people didn’t know precisely what was going on at the time, they sure as hell speculated.’

  Swift curled his lip and wrinkled his nose in distaste. ‘Is this what you’re reduced to? Digging into speculation after all these years? Surely you’ve got better things to do?’

  Bliss opted to switch things up. He shifted closer to one group photo, feigning interest, as if his mind was focussed somewhere other than the casual interview. ‘Of course. In truth, it was our current investigation that led us here, Mr Swift, not the old one. I’m perfectly happy to concentrate on current events. In fact, I’d like you to tell us a bit about Tommy Harrison. But before you do – were any of your mates, or his, black?’

  Swift pushed back in his chair and frowned. ‘You must be talking about Knocker. What do you want with him?’

  Chandler glanced at Bliss, then turned back to Swift. ‘Knocker?’

  The elderly gangster chuckled, which set off his spluttering cough again. His rings sparkled as he hacked into a balled-up hand. ‘Black as the ace of spades, darling,’ he said, eyes dancing at some unspoken memory. ‘Or black as Newgate’s knocker, as the saying went.’

  ‘I’m none the wiser,’ Chandler told him.

  ‘It’s the heavy iron knocker on the door to Newgate prison in London,’ Bliss said, watching Swift closely. ‘Long gone, of course. Oscar Wilde was banged up there for a time, but generally it’s thought of as a place of death because of the gallows.’

  ‘You should let your partner do all the talking, sweetheart,’ Swift said, his beady eyes fixed on Chandler. ‘He knows his stuff. And if this coppering lark doesn’t work out, I could maybe find room for you in one of my flicks. There’s a few people out there who like a nice piece of mutton.’

  Ignoring the barb and putting a hand on Bliss’s arm to prevent him from reacting, Chandler said, ‘So was this Knocker your only black friend?’

  ‘As far as I can remember, yeah. I wouldn’t say he was a mate, exactly. He hung around with us as a group. Not sure who he was closest to.’

  Bliss considered that for a moment. ‘What’s this Knocker’s actual name?’

  ‘Dobson. Earl Dobson.’

  Chandler made a note as Bliss continued. ‘Mr Dobson may also be missing, though we’ll need to confirm.’

  Swift screwed up his face, his impatience seeping through. ‘Look, what’s all this about? You start off with a decades-old crime, you say you want to know about Tommy, and now you’re banging on about Knocker. What’s going on here?’

  Ignoring him, Bliss said, ‘Tell me, Mr Swift: either of them likely candidates for the Geraldine Price murder?’

  ‘What? Look, instead of asking me stupid bloody questions, why aren’t you out there looking for my mates?’

  ‘So now Dobson is a mate, after all?’

  Swift shifted awkwardly in his chair. Squinting at Bliss, his face remained creased into a scowl. He aimed a single bony finger. ‘Don’t fuck with me, old son. You caught me cold earlier, but you won’t get that lucky again. I won’t forget what you did to me. You took a right royal liberty, and I ain’t standing for it. Listening to you two banging on about the past has been mildly amusing, but you’re pissing me right off now.’

  Bliss gave him a cool, hard stare. ‘And that old-time gangster’s rearing up inside you again, eh, Freddy? But all I see is a frail old man, a bit of a eunuch without your pals around you and a shooter in your hand.’

  The two glared at each other. It was Swift who broke it off first. ‘I want you two off my property. I think we’re done here.’

  Bliss had no intention of leaving until he was ready. He crossed the floor to stand at the desk, staring down at Swift. ‘I’m sure you do, but aren’t you interested in helping us out? I mean, you want us to find your friends, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do. But that ain’t going to happen with you coming around here and having a pop at me in my own place of business. Time was I’d have…’ He turned his head away, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  ‘Yes, I think I know what you would have done once upon a time, Freddy. But I can see those days are long gone. Still, I’ll tell you what: you help us out and I’ll leave you be. How does that sound?’

  ‘Help you out how?’

  ‘To begin with, answer my question. If you had nothing to do with what happened to Mrs Price, do you think it’s possible that either Harrison or Dobson did? Perhaps the pair of them together?’

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  Chandler had leaned up against a filing cabinet, but now she stood upright and took a quick stride towards him. ‘Would we get a different answer if we told you there’s a chance Ben Carlisle’s disappearance has something to do with the case?’

  ‘No.’

  Bliss thought differently. Swift’s features altered each time one of them asked him a question, but whereas before his eyes had flitted between the two detectives, now they were cast downwards. ‘I’m curious as to why you’re not asking me about Ben, Mr Swift. For example, are you not interested to know why we think his disappearance may be linked to a cold case? I can’t believe you have no interest, what with you and him being such good pals.’

  ‘I don’t know anything. I can’t help. All I want is for you to leave me alone.’

  ‘We will, soon enough. What can you tell me about a book your mate Ben has? It’s all about a
n ancient Chinese method of torture. Ring any bells?’

  ‘What the… I’ve no bloody idea what you’re banging on about.’

  ‘You think Tommy Harrison might be missing for the same reason, Freddy? You think him, Dobson and Ben have been taken because somebody other than us thinks they were involved in the torture and murder of Mrs Price?’

  Swift’s head jerked up, and this time his eyes were wild. Moist, too, though there was little gleam in them. ‘I just told you – I don’t know!’

  Bliss allowed silence to add to the atmosphere. He’d been patiently building up the pressure; now it felt like the right time to push harder. ‘But you do know something, Freddy. For instance, you knew Tommy was missing. We didn’t tell you he was, and we’ve not released this information to the media as yet, but when I mentioned it just now you didn’t bat an eyelid. How come?’

  ‘Somebody must have told me.’

  ‘Oh, I agree. What we want to know is: who?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I must’ve picked it up from somewhere.’

  ‘I see. You realise if we end up making this little chat official, that answer isn’t going to cut it.’

  ‘Then I’ll make no bloody comment at all. How’s that suit you?’

  Not wanting Swift to shut them down, Bliss softened his tone. ‘All right, Freddy. Take it easy. Listen, you’ll be doing yourself a big favour if you tell us where you were early on Monday morning.’

  Swift’s head jerked up. His eyes drilled into Bliss’s. ‘Why d’you want to know about Monday?’

  ‘Because I asked you nicely.’

  Swift continue to glare, but he was obviously thinking hard. There was a time for posture and a time to help yourself. If the police wanted to know where you were, they had many ways of going about finding out.

  ‘Monday was an ordinary day. Got up, had breakfast, came to work.’ Swift stopped and snapped his fingers. He ran a hand over his face. Licked his lips. ‘As it happens, we had an early shoot. One of our girls was double-booked that day. She’s popular right now, so rather than blow our chances of getting her on film, we started the session shortly before nine. I met her and her agent here at about eight. That do you?’