Cold Killers Read Free Page A

hand.
‘Nails were pulled, probably using point-edged pliers.’
    ‘Nasty. So they came prepared?’ Carter said, as he swivelled in his chair and watched her pin up the photos. ‘Very professional. If this was done for fun, then they make a
habit of it. If this was for information, pretty sure they would have found out what they needed to know.’
    ‘That’s if he knew the answers to their questions,’ answered Robbo. ‘For a man who builds houses for a living, he’s died a pretty violent death. He must have pissed
off some South American cartel to get his tongue dragged through his neck.’
    ‘Builds houses using what kind of money?’ asked Carter. ‘Laundered? Stolen? I suppose that’s the question. You can take the man out of the villainous East End, but can
you take the East End villain out of the man? This isn’t your average property developer who might get a loan from the bank, this is a man who kick-started his career by stealing from other
people.’
    Pam stopped her typing to look up over her reading glasses.
    ‘Just found a photo of Eddie’s corpse on the Internet,’ she said. ‘He was still in the car park when this was taken.’
    Carter went across to look at her screen.
    ‘Yeah, got to be one of the bin men; probably took a selfie, too. A photo was bound to be leaked to the press. It’s been a month since he was murdered. I’m surprised they
waited this long,’ said Carter, walking back to his desk. ‘Sign of the times, I’m afraid.’
    ‘The bin men must see a lot of death,’ said Willis, as she stood back to study the images she’d pinned up so far. ‘Drug overdoses, homeless.’
    ‘Not usually tortured, with a bullet between the eyes and a tongue pulled through his neck.’ Carter sat upright and took a swig of coffee. He was watching the church on the screen.
‘Okay, here we go, they’re coming out.’
    Willis and Robbo came across to look at Carter’s screen together.
    ‘There’s Laurence Butcher with Sandra now,’ said Robbo. ‘He’s always been a mummy’s boy. Not sure who’s supporting who. Sandra looks like she’s
carrying him.’ Robbo squinted at the screen. ‘Those two women at the back, with hats, are Sandra’s sisters. Harold’s ex-wife, Lucinda, is there. Her kids: Harold’s
stepkids.’
    The family were thanking mourners outside the church as people passed them one by one. Della Butcher took her place at the end of the line of family members. She turned her head from the rain
that was driving sideways, and the net across her face lifted in the wind.
    ‘Are any of Della Butcher’s family there?’ asked Willis.
    ‘No,’ answered Carter. ‘We’ll get a detailed list when Intel has had time to look at all this footage.’
    ‘His widow looks different from what I expected,’ said Willis. ‘I thought she’d be more of a footballer’s wife type, but she’s dressed a lot more discreetly
than his mother Sandra with her fur-trimmed coat and diamonds. Plus, she looks young.’ Willis looked at her notes. ‘Eddie Butcher was what, fifty-two?’
    ‘She’s thirty-eight,’ answered Carter. ‘She married Eddie in 2004.’ Willis glanced across to see if Carter was reading the information, but he wasn’t.
    They watched the coffin being loaded inside the hearse. It was now wrapped in a Union flag, to hide the damage done by the reversing wheels of the carriage.
    ‘I thought the immediate mourners are supposed to leave together, in the same car,’ said Willis. ‘Della’s gone in the one with Harold’s ex-wife. Is that
significant?’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Carter, ‘that’s what she is to them now, an ex-wife, back of the queue.’
    Robbo glanced across at Pam. ‘What’s their itinerary?’
    ‘From here, they’re going for a private burial in Chingford Cemetery. They have a plot near the Krays. Then they’re staying in the area for a wake in a country estate on the
edge of Epping Forest. It’s a place called Giddewell