by Owen Mullen
The van driver’s body would never be found.
And tonight, the Daniel Gooch would have an old customer back.
George Ritchie wondered if anybody would remember him.
22
The nearest we got to the coast was Mandy looking at bikinis in Harrods. Half of the three grand Danny had given me – three thousand four hundred, to be exact – got spent between Sloane Square and the bottom of the Kings Road: my treat. Afterwards, we had a couple of drinks and the best steak I’d ever eaten in The World’s End Market. She was wearing sunglasses pushed high on her head, white shoes and a sky-blue print dress, which showcased her figure and the light tan on her slender arms.
When the waiter cleared the table I said, ‘How old is your daughter?’
‘She’s nine.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Amy.’
‘Shouldn’t you be getting back to her?’
Mandy shook her head. ‘She lives in Manchester with her father.’
‘And you’re okay about that?’
She shrugged. ‘Okay isn’t how I’d put it. It’s the way it is.’
‘I’d like to meet her.’
‘Maybe you will.’
The words were positive; pragmatic, but behind them I heard regret. As if she’d accepted what she did for a living barred her from being a mum. Yet, there was no self-pity. No hard-luck story. She’d made her decisions and was coping with them the best she could.
‘She’ll be here soon.’
I was no parenting expert, but I knew that allowing her little girl to go to another city with somebody else – even her father – would come at a cost, paid in the middle of the night.
She played with the stem of her wine glass.
‘I can guess what you’re thinking.’
‘Clever you.’
‘You’re wondering how such bad shit could happen to a nice girl like me.’
‘No, that’s not what I’m wondering at all. Bad shit happens to everybody.’
Mandy laughed. ‘I’ll tell you anyway. Amy was two when we divorced. My ex-husband’s job took him back up north – he got promoted. He has family there, mine are dead – it made sense for her to be with him. He had more to offer. When he suggested it, I agreed.’
‘More to offer a child than her mother? It must be hard for you.’
‘Only if I let myself think about it.’
I didn’t believe her.
‘As for the job – nobody forced me. It’s the road I decided to take, simple as that.’
She lifted her face, her eyes deep and clear, daring me to question her choices. This was the tale Mandy had settled for telling herself – the version of her life she could live with, the one where her daughter’s best interests were served. How much of it was true was unimportant. I was the last person to judge.
She pointed to the bags at her feet and the designer labels unfamiliar to me. ‘You’ve put out a lot of money on me today.’
‘It wasn’t mine. I didn’t earn it.’
‘Then I shouldn’t feel bad about spending it, should I?’
‘Absolutely not. I enjoyed myself.’
Mandy said, ‘You sure you’re Danny’s brother? You’re not like him.’
‘Is that a compliment?’
She seemed surprised. ‘If being told you’re different from Danny Glass isn’t a compliment, what is?’
‘You haven’t said why you don’t like my brother.’
She backed away from answering and softened. ‘He’s a voice on the other end of the phone now and again, asking me to bring girls to a party. I spoke out of turn. Sorry.’
‘No need to apologise. Everybody’s entitled to their opinion. Besides, I’ve hardly seen him in seven years. We’re strangers.’
‘Yeah, but he’s still your brother. Nothing changes that. And he’s still Danny Glass.’
She looked away, leaving me with her cryptic verdict ringing in my ears –‘And he’s still Danny Glass.’
Before I could ask her to explain, my mobile rang. It was Danny.
‘Oliver fucking Stanford’s coming to the King Pot. Reckons he’s got a name for us. Get back here. And before we go any further, forget boxing clever. It’s not happening, so don’t suggest it or we’ll be falling out, you and me.’
The phone went dead. Mandy said, ‘That was him, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. We’ll have to cut it short. He wants me at the pub.’
She touched my arm. ‘Be careful, Luke. I meant what I said. You’re not like him.’
Danny’s caustic assessment of ex-cons who fell in love with the first female who smiled at them hadn’t been forgotten. There was truth in there – sexual attraction was a rocky foundation to build a lasting relationship on. Mandy must’ve been thinking the same. She said, ‘Can I ask something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Am I your girlfriend? I mean, is that how you see me? Or am I being silly? I’m being silly, aren’t I?’ She blushed and turned away. ‘Forget I said that.’
Off-guard, my answer was flippant and vague and inadequate.
‘You’re a girl and you’re a friend so, yeah.’
A shadow passed behind her eyes; it was exactly what she’d expected. Was it a test? If it had been, I’d failed.
I dropped her at her flat just as it started to pour. It matched the mood. Our day was ending on a subdued note.
‘I’ll call you as soon as we sort this out.’
The trust I’d seen in her eyes in Chelsea was gone. Getting out of the car, she almost forgot to take the shopping from the back seat. I reminded her and she thanked me again. Instead of kissing me, she offered her cheek. Before she spoke, I guessed what she was going to say.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t see each other again.’
‘I don’t agree. As for what we are, it’s early days. Let’s be happy with what we’ve got and see how it goes, eh?’
Mandy wasn’t convinced and it showed.
My reply to her question hadn’t made me feel good. I wasn’t thick. I knew what she’d been asking. Without meaning to, I’d hurt her. Tomorrow, I’d find a better response.
‘I’m serious. I will call.’
She smiled a half-smile that didn’t touch her eyes. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
On the drive to the King Pot, with the windscreen wipers slapping rain away, I replayed our conversation in the restaurant from its confessional beginning to how it had ended. Three things jumped out: Mandy’s frankness in speaking about her life, her tentative hopes for a future for us, and the change when Danny’s name came up. There was plenty to admire about her – honesty, for one – except she hadn’t been totally honest.
She was afraid of my brother. And afraid for me.
Mandy watched Luke steer through the city traffic. He was a handsome man. And he was nothing like his brother – they were different in every way imaginable. Luke was uncomplicated where Danny was twisted; kind where he was cruel. She’d lied to him and he deserved better. But when the truth was shameful and ugly, what did that leave?
It had taken just two years after Amy was born for her mother’s life to fall apart: depression followed her like a black dog she couldn’t shake off. Discovering her husband’s adultery had sent her over the edge and she’d become addicted to Xanax – a neighbour had found her unconscious on the floor with Amy crawling on top of her.
But the nightmare was only just beginning.
Her ex was offered a job in Manchester, nearer his family, and he accepted. Next came the bombshell: his plans didn’t include her, though they did include his daughter. He called her an unfit mother, delusional and out of control, and had the proof already lined up; a friend of his was prepared to lie and say he’d slept with her with their daughter in the room; the neighbour who’d found her unconscious agreed to give evidence – in the interests of the child. Even the doctor who had originally prescribed the drug for her depression was against her.
The day Amy’s father t
ook her away, Mandy cried herself to sleep and slipped nearer the abyss. She was in bad shape when her path crossed Danny Glass. He’d weaned her off everything she was on and shown her a way to get her daughter back some day.
She’d taken it.
Then she’d discovered what being in Danny’s debt really meant.
Yvonne rolled the stocking over her ankle, and slowly up her thigh, conscious of Eugene’s eyes devouring her. She watched him lying naked and still hard on the office floor and didn’t hurry to cover herself. He really couldn’t get enough, thank God. As usual, the sex had been amazing; she’d shuddered and moaned through three massive climaxes and lost count of the minor ones during foreplay. It would be a pity if what she was about to say ended it.
‘Enjoying the view?’
Eugene grinned. ‘Loving it.’
He got up and stood behind her. She felt his warm breath on her neck, his fingers toying with her nipples; she didn’t stop him.
‘Haven’t you had enough?’
‘Nothing like enough. Want to go again?’
‘You said you were meeting somebody.’
‘Well, they’ll have to wait, won’t they?’
Yvonne laughed and let him pull her to the carpet. ‘You really are a hound, aren’t you?’
Eugene howled. ‘You weren’t complaining ten minutes ago.’
The laughter stopped, their lips met and their bodies melded again. When it was over, they got dressed. Eugene patted his pockets, checking for his car keys and wallet, frowning: he was late and regretting it. This was the moment she’d waited for.
Her tone was casual, throwaway, like she was making end-of-the-day inconsequential chit-chat. ‘Will she be angry?’
He was tying his tie, only half listening. ‘What?’
‘I’m asking if she’ll be angry with you.’
‘Will who be angry with me?’
‘Nina Glass. That’s who you’re meeting, isn’t it?’
‘As a matter of fact, no, I’m—’
Yvonne cut him off. ‘Don’t bother denying it, Eugene. I’ve known for a while. You’re a great fuck but you’re a terrible liar.’
‘It’s nothing… nothing serious.’
‘It never is.’
‘Not true.’
‘Of course, it’s true. Women are only good for one thing as far as you’re concerned.’
Eugene hit back. ‘We never said we wouldn’t see other people. Where’s the gripe coming from? I don’t get it.’
She walked round the desk and sat in his chair. ‘You’re right, we owe each other nothing. So you won’t mind if Danny Glass hears about what you’re doing with his sister.’
Vale’s lips curled in a sour smile. ‘He already knows. Sorry to spoil your fun.’
She shook her head, unfazed. ‘Not what I’m going to tell him.’
Eugene Vale’s eyes hardened – he should’ve quit while he was ahead; the session had taken an unwelcome turn. He tried to bluff his way back to safer ground. ‘You surprise me, Yvonne. I didn’t think you were the jealous type.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been using you as much as you’ve been using me.’ She got out of the chair and came towards him. When their faces were close enough to smell sex on him, she said, ‘I couldn’t care less who you’re shagging. That’s who you are. And you’re good at it, otherwise I wouldn’t let you near me. I’m talking about something else, something Danny Glass hasn’t caught on to. Yet.’
The threat was unmistakeable.
‘What the hell are you on about?’
‘I mean the money you and his sister are stealing.’
‘Stealing?’
Vale stared at the woman he’d had three times in the last hour. She said, ‘At twelve o’clock today you went to the bank. The safe should be practically empty. I’m betting there’s cash in there. Plenty of cash. Go on, I dare you. Open it.’
Vale stayed where he was.
‘Glass is a violent guy. Being his sister might save Nina but what about you?’
The veins in Eugene Vale’s neck stood out in angry lines; his voice was low and cracked.
‘Don’t… do this, Yvonne, I’m warning you. It won’t end well.’
‘For you, absolutely it won’t. For me it’ll end very well. Expect I’ll get a nice little bonus.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Speak to your girlfriend. Tell her I want in. And when I say in, I mean 50 per cent, half of whatever the take is. Point out she doesn’t have much choice. Danny Glass would love to hear what I’d have to tell him.’
23
I was getting used to seeing Danny’s guys outside the King Pot. Until Rollie Anderson started his nonsense, it hadn’t been necessary. Now, it was essential if we didn’t want to get caught cold again. Once was bad luck, twice…
Harry nodded to me from behind the bar and limped to serve somebody at the far end. I climbed the stairs. Since I’d come out of Wandsworth, Danny’s mood had been hard to anticipate; sullen and quick to take offence one minute, the next playing childish jokes at my expense. Thinking about it, he’d been a queer fish before I’d even got close to seeing the inside of prison, cutting me out of decisions and disappearing for days without telling anybody where he’d gone. Further back, when we were on the dodge, at times the vibe coming off him scared me.
He was sitting, as usual, under the photograph of the Queen, toying with a pile of paper clips. The laptop on his desk was closed and the jukebox was silent. I tapped the edge of the PC. ‘Do you ever actually use this, or is it just for show?’
Danny looked up. ‘It gets used, don’t worry about that.’
Not exactly brotherly love but an improvement on some of his recent short-tempered greetings. He brought me up to date. ‘Stanford’s on his way. Wanted you to hear what he has to say for himself, and I’ll tell you one thing: it better be good. None of his CID waffle. Otherwise, I’ll pull the plug on him and his nice life. Might do it anyway just to screw him over.’
He pointed an accusing finger in my direction. ‘And before you say anything, somebody’s getting it. End of.’
We weren’t sure what Stanford would say but Danny’s mind was already made up. He couldn’t control himself and had to lash out.
At somebody. At anybody.
He got up, strolled to the jukebox and let his fingers glide teasingly over the selection keys without pressing any. His back was to me. I couldn’t see his face. The tone was casual. ‘How d’you get on with that tart?’
I recognised the signs. The next words out of his mouth would be intended to provoke a reaction. If I gave him what he wanted he’d tell me to relax, calm down, and not take things so seriously, when, in fact, it was him who needed to chill.
‘Fine.’
‘Fine?’
‘Yeah, it was fine.’
‘You’ve spent the day with a prostitute and that’s the best you can say? Doesn’t sound like you’re getting your money’s worth. How much are you paying her?’
‘None of your bloody business.’
His lips drew back in a mocking half-smile, mischief in his eyes.
‘No need to get arsey, little brother. I only asked how you got on.’
‘And I told you. Fine. Now let it go.’
He sat down again and went back to what he’d been doing. With anybody else the conversation would’ve been over. Except this was Danny.
‘Wouldn’t want you getting charged more than the rest of the boys. That wouldn’t do at all.’
The urge to drag him across the desk was almost overwhelming. If he sensed the anger in me or saw my hands clenched at my sides, it didn’t show. Understanding what he was doing didn’t help. Of course, he knew my every move: he’d had me followed.
‘Buy her something nice, did you?’
He coughed a throaty chuckle, added another clip to the chain and held it up like a child pleased with what it had created.
‘Can read you like a book, always could. You dropped a
bundle on a pro this afternoon because she spread her legs for you. You’ve forgotten that’s her job. Next thing you’ll be falling in love with the slag.’
‘Let it go.’
Danny threw back his head. ‘She’s got a nice face, I’ll give you that. Probably got a sweet nature. Don’t they all at the beginning? Feed you a sob story, did she? And you believed her. No shame in having a good heart, brother. But she’s a prostitute. At one time or another most of the boys have been through her. For fuck’s sake, get a grip.’
It poured out too easily, like a script he’d rehearsed to goad me.
Once upon a time Danny had been my hero. Time’s had changed.
‘Danny, this isn’t working.’
‘What’re you on about? It’s working great.’
‘I mean it isn’t working for me.’
‘Don’t talk stupid. You’ve come out after seven years to a fistful of money and plenty more where that came from. ’Course it’s working.’
‘I’m sticking with my original plan. I’ll be gone by the end of the week.’
‘And miss my birthday?’
I didn’t get a chance to tell him what he could do with his birthday. We hadn’t heard Stanford on the stairs and didn’t realise he was there until he was in the room. The row about to kick off didn’t happen. I had a feeling it would keep.
Stanford had the same full-of-himself look I’d seen before. He glanced at me and nodded. Recognition. I’d come up in the world. Danny threw his arms in the air.
‘Oliver! Good of you to come. Take a pew.’
The detective did as he was told. I stayed in the background and let them get on with it. Anderson, my brother and this bent copper deserved each other.
‘On the phone you said you had a name. Glad to hear it. Very glad to hear it.’
Stanford drew himself straight in the chair and took a deep breath. ‘I have. Before I give it – though I’m sure I’m wasting my time – I want to remind you that killing a policeman is one of the most serious offences under the law. It galvanises the victim’s fellow officers into bringing the murderer to justice. I advise you to consider carefully what to do.’
