The Door is Still Ajar Page 9

  This is where it all got very disturbing. Jack Dawes told Hammond he needed a place to stay for a while and could he put him up. Hammond refused, but Dawes laughed in his face and told him that he had been talking to Danny Garcia and Danny Garcia had told him all about him mouthing off about the gold bullion heist, they both knew about and then threatened him. ‘If certain people find out what you’ve been bragging about it, you’re a dead man’. He poked Hammond in the chest and Hammond started trembling with fear. We didn’t know it the time, but Hammond and Freddy had all ready carried out several burglaries, in Walton, Frinton and Clacton and there was no way that he wanted the Jack-Daw around. Their little criminal enterprise was just taking off very nicely, thank you. Hammond had got himself a job working for a local painter and decorator. By day he could site potential targets for robbery and by night him and Freddy would carry them out. Freddy was only about five foot four and built like a racing-snake. He could climb up ladders and slip through windows and move through a house while the owners where asleep in bed easily.

  Freddy was only seventeen when they started and thay had got away with it for three years. Well, Hammond begrudgingly put Jack Dawes up for about six weeks, until the Jack-Daw managed to sell off the stolen goods, but Hammond was extremely unhappy about it. He must of told Freddy why he was putting up with this unexpected hindrence to their business. And for some reason Freddy suffered in silence. Hammond had a rented place along Brooklands, Hillman Avenue. And that is where the Jack-Daw stayed before moving on. In the end what Hammond and Freddy did in the end was not just disgusting, but completely stupid. When they broke into the leather goods shop, they disturbed the owner and he came down. The small safe at the back had been wrenched open by a massive industrial crowbar. In a panic Hammond must have beaten the poor bloke up. He smashed his face in. It made the front pages of the newspapers. The photos of the poor bloke’s face were apalling. Hammond had his works van parked around the corner.

  But it wouldn’t start, when he tried to drive off. Freddy legged it and got away. A woman who lived in an upstairs flat opposite the shop saw Hammond exit the front door of the shop, but not Freddy and she called the police. Hammond was still sitting in the van, trying to start it when the police nabbed him. The bastard grassed Freddy up and said he had no idea how the poor man got his injuries. I think he may have been thinking of getting a lighter sentence, if he roped Freddy in. The police arrested Freddy at the house and poor Claude was devastated. They both got three years. They both denied any knowledge of the other burgluries. Would you believe there was at the very least twenty that the police knew of? There was no way that they could ever come back here again.

  I heard that Hammond went back to London, when he done his time and Freddy was never heard of again. Eva tried to contact Hammond in desperation, but their criminal partnership had finished for good. Hardly surprising, when Hammond had informed on Freddy, hoping to save his own skin. Then two and a half years later Claude got killed. Eva had lost eveything, but she still hoped Freddy was still alive.

  Then a few months before she died, she received a letter telling her that Freddy had been killed. It had no return address and the writing and grammer was obviously written by somebody that was barely literate. The gist of the letter was that Freddy had been framed up by somebody who had known the team that had carried out the gold bullion heist at the warehouse in Heathrow airport a few years ago and knew how they had got away with it and Freddy had been talking too much. Of course Hammond immediately came to mind.

  No body was ever found and the assumption that gangland had probably disposed of it was never seriously followed up. Eva did not believe it and would not accept it. She only lived another year, or so after that and died a broken women. She told me all of this just before she died; like a last will and testament, or maybe a confession. I know the whole story may sound like a melodrama that some over imaginative playwright would make up. I thought that we’d been displaced when our house was bombed during the blitz and my husband was killed during the Normandy landings and I was pregnant with Dean at the time was a bad enough story. But by comparson to our story, their’s was one of never ending tragedy. That is the story of Costin and Stefana.”

  She then looked over to the bungalow next door which had the curtains drawn and said, “She gave me the keys to her house and told me that if Freddy ever returned to give them to him. It was probaby better for her that she stilled believed that he was still alive somewhere.”

  It only after his mother had finished speaking that Dean said something that grabbed Blumer’s interest.

  “One thing Mum forgot to mention was, that about two weeks after Freddy was carted off to prison something very suspicious happened. A brand, new big Bush TV set, a new washing machine and fridge were delivered to their house and they had new kitchen units fitted. I say suspicious, because Claude did not earn very good money on the pier and Eva only did a little part time cleaning for the Martello caravan site.”

  “Do you think they may of bought them off this Jack Dawes Character?” said Blumer.

  “No chance. They would never have had any dealings with a character like the Jack Daw. They must have aquired money from somewhere. They didn’t do the pools or gamble.”

  “How long was Jack Dawes around here and do you think he had gained much knowledge about the outlay of the area? You said he had a van that he was using.”

  “He would have been around for about six weeks. Yeah, he would have gained some knowledge, because he had to sell off a van full of stolen goods, before he moved on. Hammond was glad to see the back of him. And I differ with Mum with my opinion. I don’t think that Freddy was led astray by Hammond; it was an accident waiting to happen and Freddy seized the moment. Hammond was a big headed braggart and a pervert. But like a lot of arrogant people, he was stupid. He could never have planned and done all of those burglaries alone. He had a sharp, patient brain planning everything they did. Freddy.”

  By the time Blumer arrived back in London, he had already jotted down a list of people that he wanted to see. Harry Parkes was one of them. But that could wait. He had the names, addresses and phone numbers of the two friends that had been on holiday at Point Clear with Lisa Noonan and he wanted to interview them seperately. He may need Harry Parkes’s knowledge of underworld business. Even bums like Dennis Hammond and this Jack-Daw character would be monitered by Parkes’s network of spies and underground intelligence system. And it would save him a lot of time and energy having to find them himself. His first stop would be an address in Bow, a Miss Sharon Spanka, and then another address in Mile End, a Miss Helen Nesbitt. He had already telephoned both of them and had told them the nature of his business.

  The address in Bow was in a row of terraced houses, similar to his own. He rang the doorbell and waited. When the door opened he was slightly taken aback; Sharon Spanka was strikingly beautiful. And she was also heavily pregnant. Blumer was the first to speak.

  “Good afternoon madam, I’m John Blumer. I would like to speak to a Miss Sharon Spanka, I believe that she’s been expecting me.”

  Sharon Spanka had big blue sanpaku eyes, that where startlingly penatrating. And she used them as a means of expressing herself. And searching other people’s eyes, which she did now with Blumer. And for some reason he felt slightly awkard about this.

  “Hello Mister Blumer. That’s me, or was me. I’m now Mrs Sharon Walters, as from last week. Who needs a name like Spanka anyway. It’s German you know. Please come in Mister Blumer.”

  She then blinked her eyes and rolled them. Indicating that she was joking. She asked him if he would like a cup of tea, or coffee and asked him to sit down. He was alone with a heavily pregnant woman, who appeared to be mocking him.

  “No thank you, I want to interview Miss Nesbitt before I go home. I’m a bit pressed for time. All I really want is to ask you, as far back as you can remember the last time that you were with L
isa Noonan and can you remember anything unusual that could indicate the nature of her disappearance? As I told you, I’m investigating the disappearance of a Miss Sian Ellis for a client, who has gone missing in Clacton recently.”

  “Her abduction, Mr Blumer. That’s all there is to it. Lisa was abducted and probably murdered and I would give anything, includin’ me house to see the bastard brought to justice.”

  Blumer took stock of her frank and brutally honest opinion and pressed on carefully.

  “Please start from the beginning, Sharon. I know this must be terrible for you.”

  “Well, it was me who organized and booked the holiday at the Point Clear caravan site. I thought it was a good idea at the time, cause’ Lisa and Helen had fallen out over a bloke.”

  She gave a flip of her hand and screwed her nose up, before rolling her sanpaku eyes. “You know what girls are like.”

  No, Blumer did not know what girls are like. Otherwise he would not have lost Pamela.

  Lisa had this ridiculous idea that Helen was better lookin’ than her and all the blokes would be after her all the time. Helen knew this and would play on it. You know what girls are like.”

  “Well was Helen better looking than Lisa. In your opinion of course?”

  “No, that was the problem. This bloody obssesion was inside of Lisa’s head. They both took up with complete and utter moron that called himself clever Trevor. And he played one against the other. Well, he was so clever he ended up in Wormwood Scrubs for pinching cars and selling ‘em. I couldn’t stand him. A complete and utter wanker. On top of that they both told me that he had borrowed money off of both of them, before he got banged up. The silly cows, I could have banged their heads together.”

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You should have told Lisa that.”

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I like that. I’ll have to remember that one.”

  Blumer suddenly felt a pang of guilt for using one of Pamela’s favourite sayings.

  “Me Mum always told me never get involved with a fly-by-night. Get a bloke that ain’t shy of hard work. That’s why I married Paul. He does a bit of plumin’, electrics, plasterin’, artexin’ and paintin’. Aw-gawd, he’ll have a go at anythin’. Even scaffoldin’and dumper drivin’.”

  She then went into a more sombre mode and Blumer could sense her pain and anguish.

  “If I’d not booked the holiday, then it would never had happened. We went to school together and we’d always been friends. I hated seeing them acting so silly and childish. I saw it as a chance for us to get back to bein’ just as we’d always been. It had worked out better than I had hoped. Lisa had caught a bus to Clacton, to take a look around the town and visit the pier. I think she may have have met somebody, because she did the same the next day. This was three days before we were due to go back. We had all been out late and had been in the Ferry-Boat Inn on the caravan site. She had gone back to the caravan a bit earlier than us, because she wanted to catch the bus early. Helen and me didn’t get back til’ about half past two. And were both well sozzled.

  “I heard her leave about ten o’clock the next morning, because she was banging about and making a lot of noise before she left. She never came back. Both me and Helen think she may have met a bloke, either on the way to Clacton, or in Clacton the day before and could have arranged to meet him. And she possibly didn’t tell us, cause’ she still nursed this lunatic suspicion about Helen. We didn’t worry too much, but when it got to about eight o’clock in the evening we started gettin’ worried. Cor blimey, we she have gone with her. We should have called the police then, instead we waited til’ ten o’clock. I blame myself.”

  “Don’t blame yourself Sharon, under any circumstances. After all these years workng for the Met and as a private investigator I’ve seen and experienced things that still boggle my mind. Nobody can predict what can happen to them each day. We live in a dangereous world.”

  She rolled her sanpaku eyes in acknowledgement and smiled. Blumer wondered why a beautiful, unkept and pregnant young woman, should feel so relaxed; alone in the company of a man.

  “Me Mum was so excited when I told her you wanted to interview me. She couldn’t come cause’ she’s workin’. She told me all about how you caught the ‘sweetshop’ killer and ‘stripper killer’. And I know all about the Leon Boyd case. Cor blimey, it was on the front page of every paper.”

  She then chuckled and flipped her hand again.

  “Aw-gawd, is she gonna’ be jealous. She is a fan of yours you know.”

  If Blumer had been a woman there was a good chance he may have blushed.

  “Tell your Mum it was all team work. There’s a lot of unsung hero’s involved in a murder case. The public only see the spectacular and terrible results when we catch a murderer. The sheer amount legwork, endless and sometimes fruitless leads are something the public would never know about, or be aware of. And there’s nothing glamorous about being a murder detective.”

  “Gawd, I can’t wait to tell her. She’s gonna’ come flyin’ around here a soon as she finishes work. And she’s gonna’ be thrilled to bits, when I tell her what you said.”

  The house in Mile End where Helen Nesbitt lived was another nondescript terraced house and as Blumer rang the doorbell he hoped that Helen could remember anything that Sharon had forgotten. When the door opened he was faced with a slim girl with chestnut brown eyes and a pleasant heart shaped face. This time it was the girl who spoke first.

  “Mister Blumer, I’ve been expecting you. Sharon phoned to say you were on the way round. I hope she told you everything. Cause’ this thing with Lisa and me was stupid and now I feel embarressed by the whole nonsense of it all. Please come in.”

  “Glad you were expecting me Miss Nesbitt. All I’m really after was there anything prior to Lisa’s disappearance that could arouse your suspicion if something was out of the ordinary.”

  “No, nothing. She wanted to go to Clacton and see the town and the pier. We would stay up late and were content to stay on the caravan site and laze about all day.”

  She then virtually told Blumer the same story that Sharon Spanka had told him, but with one thing added. The first day that she had caught the bus to Clacton; the bus driver had remembered a girl of Lisa’s description boarding the bus, at the entrance of the caravan site at ten fifteen. A girl of the same description had boarded the bus at half past four in the afternoon in the Clacton bus station. This was confirmed by the driver who had taken over the route. And he he had rembered that the bus in the afternoon was nearly fully and she had sat down next to a woman and they had chatted for a while. The driver must have had a good memory, because he described the woman of about five feet ten and was wearing pink balloon style trousers, middle aged and quite busty. And she had left the bus at St Osyth, the girl had got off the bus at the entrance of the caravan site at about five o’clock.

  The next day neither of them had remembered the girl boarding the bus. They had both been interviewed by the police and their accounts had corroberated. This led Blumer to think that Lisa Noonan may have been picked up at the entrance of the caravan site the next day by somebody who she had met the previous day. Somebody that she had trusted enough to get in a car with. Could she have met him in Clacton the previous day? Her suspicion of Helen, concerning her complex about her being more attractive than her still may have quietly been smouldering away inside of her. And if she had met a handsome young man, she wanted to keep it secret from Helen. The plot was thickening.

  CHAPTER 15

  Blumer sat in his office in Shoreditch, contemplating his next move. He had to find the where abouts of Dennis Hammond first and then Jack Dawes. It was highly unlikly that Lisa Noonan would have met up with either one of these two characters as revolting as these two creeps. At the time of her disappearance Hammond had been released from prison eight months before. He had been familiar wit
h the town and may have even had the audacity to go back there, judging by his completely arrogant, cavalier and preposterous disregard about what other people thought of him. Stupid men do stupid things, when vanity and false ego kicks in. And from what Alice Burgess had told him, the Jack-Daw was of the same mold. It was quite feasible that one of them may have noticed her alone and had stalked her.

  Blumer was now convinced that Dawes had targeted Hammond as an escape route from his criminal shenanigans, because he had serious dirt on him. And if it was anything to do with the Heathrow gold bullion heist and Dawes had found out that Hammond had been bragging about what he knew. Then indeed if Dawes’ threat that, ‘If certain people found out what you’ve been bragging about’ judging by underworld protocol, Hammond would indeed be a dead man walking. And who was Danny Garcia. If he had known both Hammond and Dawes, he may know things about them that could be of interest to Blumer. He must also trace this Danny Garcia, but that would have to be put on hold. This would be the first time that Blumer had called on an underworld boss for anything and Harry Parkes had been surprised and thoroughly delighted to receive a phone called from him requesting a private meeting. They had arranged to meet at Harry’s office in East Ham at ten o’clock the following morning.

  Dave Sobel, one of Harry Parkes’s board of directors, met Blumer at a side door of one of Parkes’s clubs, The Western Belle. Blumer noticed how smartly dressed in a very expensive suit Dave Sobel was and thought that business must be booming. He led Blumer up a narrow set of rickety stairs and Sobel knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. A man’s loud voice said, “Come in.”