“Okay. The vigilante attacks were centred around the Southchurch residential area, but the guy seems to be getting bolder. The latest attack - have you read about that yet?”
“No. What happened?”
“A main road off-licence just by the crossroads behind the centre of town, the one opposite Frankie and Benny’s. You know it?”
“Yes and it’s a lovely neighbourhood,” said Jess in her own deadpan voice.
“Yes, well the vigilante wants to make it even better. There was an attempted robbery there last night, totally bungled and very stupid, but initially the drugged up little robber got away with a charity collection pot and an armful of whiskey bottles. Less than two minutes later he’s pushed back through the shop door with his face all bleeding, followed in by the man in the mask. The man in the mask tells him to apologise and forces him to hand back everything he’d stolen. The twerp apologises to the Asian shopkeeper and then the man in the mask hits him again and drops him to the floor, then walks off leaving him there.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Are you getting off on this thing?”
“What?”
“Your turn. What’s happening with your friend?”
“Oh, her. She’s got herself in with the wrong crowd, and I don’t think she’s in the right shape or frame of mind to deal with it, that’s all. She’s vulnerable and I think this guy could help.”
“I tell you that whole story, and you’re holding out on the detail about your friend?”
“What do you expect? She’s in trouble, and I don’t want to put her in any more danger.”
Maybe she had enough already, but that was all the information she was going to get from Gemma Cassidy. Jess shook her head and hung up. Immediately the journalist’s number came up on her phone and started ringing. Damn it. Jess rejected her call three times before the journo finally got the message. Now it was time to pay a visit to the off-licence near Frankie and Benny’s.
Jess smiled in awe of the tale, her head angled upwards towards the Asian man standing in the off-licence – a shop which was dominated by the colour blue. The cash till area was on a kind of platform above the rest of the shop – so it wouldn’t ever have been easy to rob. Maybe that’s why the desperado thief had only taken off with bottles and the charity pot.
“What did you think when you saw him?”
“The man in the balaclava? I thought he was one of those terrible skinheads and he was hiding his face because he intended to do damage. I’ve always dreaded it, especially since those scum nearly won the election. I put up with racial abuse every day in here. I was sure one day soon someone was going to do much worse than call me a Paki…”
“But he wasn’t a skinhead.”
The man smiled. “No. He had the thief around the arm tight. The thief’s face was bleeding and his nose was broken I think. His nose was all hanging to one side.”
“Tell me what happened next. What did the guy look like?”
“Okay. Tall and thin, but strong looking. He was wearing all black, like the SAS, like some sort of commando. He wore gloves and a thick jacket and the balaclava.”
“His eyes? What colour were his eyes?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice those details. I thought he was going to kill me.”
“His build. What about that?”
“Tall and thin, like I said.”
“What about his jacket? I bet it was a leather jacket. Was it leather?”
“No. No, I don’t think so. It was a black shiny nylon thing, I think. Like a bomber jacket. I told the police I think he has a radio or a walkie-talkie. He had a device sticking out of his front pocket…”
“Did you notice his hands – did you notice a finger missing – a small finger?”
“He was wearing gloves. Gloves would hide anything like that, wouldn’t they?”
“Not if you were looking, they wouldn’t.” On account of the caffeine, and every other damn reason, Jess couldn’t hide her irritation.
“You want to know the rest of it?”
“No. That’s enough. But I think I better buy one of these rags, just in case.” Eva picked up the local newspaper, The Record, and saw the cheesy grinning photograph of the Asian shopkeeper on the front page, alongside a blurred CCTV image of two men in black, one wearing a mask, side by side. VIGILANTE MAKES THIEF PAY. The Record seemed overjoyed to have found its own local Robin Hood. Maybe Rowntree was getting jealous. Jess reckoned DI Rowntree would have been even more jealous if he knew what Jess suspected. Dan Bradley was not missing. He was incognito… he’d donned a mask and started taking out his aggression on the people who actually deserved it. Maybe the police were getting uptight because the vigilante was making them look bad. Jess smiled. In spite of the lack of leather jacket, and no evidence yet of a missing finger, Jess was sure the vigilante was Dan. Surely only Dan was brave enough and stupid enough to pull a stunt like that. Jess was confident she could track Dan somehow, and when she did, she would explain about Eva’s terrible predicament and Dan would come back, save her and set everything right. Whatever Eva wanted to believe about Maggie Gillepsie’s plight, Jess knew Maggie was one devil you could never make a deal with. The woman was setting a trap. Surely she could see that. But whether Eva wanted to see it or not, Jess was going to get Dan to rescue her from herself. She needed to work fast. The clock was ticking. By the time she’d found the vigilante Dan, surely Mad Maggie’s true colours would be plain for all too see.
Jess walked out into the winter air. Without thinking her eyes flicked left and right, looking for the motorcyclist. Nothing significant. But unseen eyes followed her as she walked across the street past Frankie and Benny’s as she set off towards Dan’s last known address. Jess walked quickly along the back road towards the seafront, purposeful, determined and utterly oblivious to the watcher who began to cross the road in slow pursuit.
Six
The house was beginning to grate on her badly, but since downing two glasses of nasty white plonk while stuck in Maggie’s orbit, Eva cared a lot less about the finer details. The wine had taken the ten ton pressure away from her temples and relaxed her enough to smile bitterly at her predicament. But she was still in control. Of course she was. Two glasses didn’t make Eva drunk, not these days, they just took the edge off. Yes sir, good old Eva was back, with her logical brain fully intact. With a half bottle of wine in her veins, Eva was evaluating the situation afresh. She had to avoid spending too much time with the queen bee, even if the hide-out scenario continued. Limiting time with Maggie was essential in case the woman freaked and made a pass at her. In any situation Maggie making a pass would have been very unpleasant, but with Kendra around it was sure to have explosive consequences. So she had clarity there. She needed to get Jess back on side and listening to her and so far the girl was ignoring her texts. The bottom line was that she needed to be vigilant for threats and work on an exit strategy which kept everyone alive. Especially herself, and then the client. It sounded bad, but Maggie Gillespie was a crazy woman, and not worth dying for. The exit strategies were not going to be easy. They were all logical, but only in the extreme situation in which she found herself. In the normal world making phone call pleas to local gangsters was pretty far from acceptable. Eva was troubled, and antsy which was compounded by the booze. She needed to know the truth and she sure as hell wasn’t going to get it from Maggie. While Maggie and Kendra got busy whispering to each other at the dinner table, Eva walked out and took up lone residence of the small lilac room next door. It was a room full of knitted dolls, and little tables with doilies on them. She pulled her phone and charger from her bag and plugged it in. She closed the door. It was time to get to work.
The first call went to the old friend who Dan had always hated, but Gary Rowntree wasn’t all that bad. Besides, she had never seen proof that Rowntree was a bad apple, and for Eva no proof was good enough. He answered quickly.
“Gary. How are you doing?”
&nb
sp; “Good. Except I’m working like a horse crossed with a blue arsed fly at present. If we don’t sort this vigilante situation double quick we’re going to have the national media down here again, and we’ve only just got rid of the bastards after you and the UKFirst mob stole the show.”
The late night confrontation with Peter Serge in Southchurch Park suddenly seemed a long time ago. But barely a fortnight had passed.
“I heard about the vigilante. I think it’s quite amusing, don’t you? It was bound to happen some day with Hollywood churning out all those superhero movies over the last few years.”
“Quite amusing? I don’t think so. But I guess it was only a matter of time. This guy is a true wannabe. I haven’t seen anything which suggests super powers or ninja skills, he’s just some dickhead who trains at a gym, and likes having an excuse for bashing people and enjoys hiding behind a mask. I mean, come on- superheroes don’t batter people. They trap them. They tie them up. This guy breaks bones and leaves people bleeding in the street.”
“Bad people, right?”
“Bad people? Yes. Unreformed characters. So, do you think that’s okay nowadays, Eva? My, your moral compass is shifting. Eva”
There was a beat of silence before Rowntree spoke again. He filled the awkward void.
“So, how are you?”
“Um. Good as ever, Gary. But I am wondering about Brian Gillespie… it just occurred to me that…”
“Oh, don’t worry about those dodgy phone calls, Eva. If that’s the worst he’s done to you in over six months I doubt he’ll ever cause you any real trouble. After all, he’s up in the London gang world now. He’s gone big time. It’s like chess up there. Chess with guns thrown in. He’ll be too busy worrying about not getting killed by his rivals to bother with the likes of you or Bradley. Have you seen him at all, by the way?”
“What?”
“Dan Bradley. He’s still missing, isn’t he?”
“…Well…”
“We couldn’t find him to interview him about the violence at Southchurch Park. He’s still missing, right? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, you don’t sound it. Just call me if you need anything, Eva.”
“I’m fine, Gary. I just wanted to know if you’d heard anything about Gillespie. What he’s up to these days. And that wife of his, the mad one.”
“The Queen of Lesbos. All I heard is that Bad Boy Brian’s been spending too much time with another gangster tart up in North London. The rumour mill says he’s got into bed with this North London mob, and not just proverbially. Maybe Brian thinks he’s like Henry the Eight and he has to marry into another kingdom to get a slice of it. Lord knows the old bastard has delusions of grandeur.”
“What?” Eva feigned surprise. “He’s dumped Mad Maggie.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. These people don’t care about anything like we do, Eva. Sex is just another expression of their will to do whatever they want. Maggie was never too fond of monogamy either, as I think you may recall.”
“What do you know, Gary?”
“Not as much as you, I think. You’re fishing. Why?”
“These are ruthless people, and they caused me hell. I want to know what’s going on. So I can be prepared for anything.”
“Right…” but Rowntree sounded less than convinced. There was no way she could confide in him about her predicament. For a start, Rowntree would think she was insane, and who knows, maybe she was. And beyond that, this job presented a serious chance that Eva was going to end up on the wrong side of the law. She had always promised herself she would never cross that line, but at the very least she was going to come damn close to it. No. I will stay legal.
“Listen. The old boy is shagging around. The mad slapper is probably doing likewise, but that’s about it. Don’t stress about them. If you need some company to stop you going stir crazy, you know who to call. But right now, I’ve got to dick around chasing after this idiot in the mask.”
“Have fun, Gary.”
“I always do,” he said, sounding as mirthful as a funeral director at the crematorium. The call ended there. Eva had seen the proof of Brian’s liaison in the photographs, and now she had heard it from Rowntree’s mouth. But she had no evidence of a plot to kill Maggie and Eva needed evidence badly before she would believe the plot was not some elaborate fabrication to trap her. The idea was vain nonsense of course, but she wanted proof all the same. To obtain the proof she needed it was time to move close to the line. So close she would be in danger of crossing it. She opened the google homepage on her smartphone and typed in the name Galvan Enterprises. There were plenty of listings so she started scrolling through the entries on the first page.
A few inquiries later and Eva had learned that Doug Galvan, the old showboating gangster who wore too much jewellery was once again serving time for his love of cheap gambling scams. The Galvans were independent gangsters, and had never been tied to any of the bigger boys because they were under the illusion they were already big. The illusion had so far spared the family from a gang war, but surely that wouldn’t last. Doug Galvan was safely behind bars, but in reading up on Galvan Enterprises Eva had found the next best thing. Alexander Galvan, Doug Galvan’s son - the sole heir to the big fool’s gold plated throne - was not hard to find. It took four calls to different businesses under the Galvan name before she reached Alexander and Eva guessed the only reason he took the call at all was because Eva was female.
“Alexander Galvan. Who is this?” Galvan junior spoke in Essex Estuary English dressed up in a hammy-posh telephone voice.
“This is Eva Roberts speaking. A friend of a friend. I may have a proposition for you, but before I can make you an offer I need to know two things. I need to know if the Galvans could help me and first off I need a favour to find out if something is true or not.”
“A favour? I don’t even know who you are and ask me for a favour?”
Eva was smart. She knew men and she knew psychology well enough to mix the two. Asking for a favour was a smart move to get someone to like you. If they performed the favour the person believed they were in a positive relationship with you. It put them in a position of trust and loyalty. It didn’t sound smart, but she’d read about this technique, used it occasionally once or twice and it had worked out okay.
“Yes, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m really stuck here.”
“I’m intrigued. I’ve never had a woman call me up and ask for a favour. Who knows? This might be a dream come true.”
The posh voice had gone. Now Alexander Galvan was himself, but Eva preferred the fake one. She responded with fake laughter, and pursued her aim.
“This favour won’t cost you a penny, but it might save me from unnecessary danger.”
“I’m listening. Fire away.”
“I need to find out if there is a contract out on Maggie Gillespie. I’ve heard some people are looking to take her out.”
“Maggie Gillespie? You mean Mad Maggie Gillespie? The sexy dyke married to Brian Gillespie?”
“That one.”
“You think there’s a contract out on her? You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m really not.”
“So how does that put YOU in danger?”
“Because I’m with her.”
“You what?”
“I believe there may be a contract out on her, but I can’t confirm the truth of that. If I can’t verify the contract, I don’t know how to proceed from here. And frankly, I want to stay alive. If I know whether there’s a contract on her or not, it will help.”
“Are you old bill, because I’m telling you, this is mental talk.”
“I’m not the police. I need your help.”
“You are 100% stir crazy. Are you recording this?”
“You know I’m not, or you would have hung up. I’m serious. Will you help me?”
“Give me five minutes. I’m going to check a couple of things. I’ve got your number. I’ll call you ba
ck.”
Eva hung up and listened to the creaking floorboards around the house. She tuned in to the floorboards just beyond the door to the lilac room, making sure no one had been listening to the call. She was pretty certain no one had listened. The return call came back two long minutes later.
“Here goes. This is all I can give you, darling.”
Darling? Where the hell did that come from?
“Brian Gillespie is definitely playing away. Maggie Gillespie doesn’t ever play at home, and if she does, it’s only for the wrong side… “
“That’s it? They’re having affairs? That’s all you can tell me?” Eva shook her head. Maggie was lying and setting her up once again, it had to be. The whole thing was another elaborate façade.
“Hold your horses, sweetheart. I’m not a bloody oracle. My advice to you is be very careful. I mean seriously careful. If you can get out of wherever you are do it soon. I’ve seen your snap on the net, and I like what I see. Maggie Gillespie is in serious danger. That’s all I can say. Telling you to run the hell away from Mad Maggie is about the biggest favour I can do you.”
“Yeah… I understand. Thanks, Alexander.”
“Hope I see you round.”
“Yeah,” said Eva. And the way her brain was working right now, there was a fair chance she would be seeing Alex Galvan soon.
The young gangster hung up and Eva stared at the handset. The call to the Galvans was all about strategy, about setting up the next move. But right now the news was still sinking in. It was real - all of it was real. And from what Galvan junior had said, the net was fast closing in on Mad Maggie. Maggie’s life was in her hands. Eva would have to be the best she’d ever been to stop a professional assassin from reaching his target. And she would have to be smarter than ever if she was able to engineer a place for Maggie where the assassin couldn’t touch her. Such things were possible. Like Lightning striking twice. Like magic bullets going around corners. But they didn’t happen very often for a reason. To increase her chances Eva needed all of her resources on side. She needed Jess and she needed a clear head if she wanted to pull through. All of a sudden £50,000 sounded like a drop in the ocean. But it was too late to back out now. Far too late.
Better the Devil Page 4
