Daisy stared back at the one person she’d hoped not to see. Miss Misty. Daisy never called her plain Misty like her adoptive mum and aunts. This woman was the head of the family, the bossette, and Daisy had never felt comfortable just calling her Misty. So she called her Miss Misty, like most other people, out of respect.
Daisy clutched her black shoulder bag close to her side as she stared at the older woman in shock. Misty met her stare with suspicion, making Daisy feel like she was in front of a one-woman firing squad.
‘Miss Misty,’ was all Daisy could say.
‘Miss Daisy,’ Misty threw back. The wariness grew in her grey eyes. ‘A bit early for you to come a-calling?’ Misty’s eyes darted around the room as if looking for something that explained Daisy’s presence. Her gaze landed back on Daisy. She carefully placed the champagne bottle and vial of Midnight Blue on the desk.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Daisy finally said. ‘Went for a walk and somehow ended up here.’
Daisy had often come to the club with Jackie when she was younger. Daisy had loved the excitement, the noise, the chit-chat inside the club. And Misty had adored having her here.
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that you’re sleepwalking. Well, click your heels three times, girl, because it’s time to wake up.’ Misty peered anxiously at her. ‘You ain’t in a bit of bovver?’
Daisy vigorously shook her head as her hand tightened on her bag. ‘Since Charlie’s death I’m finding it hard to sleep.’
Misty rushed forward. ‘Oh, you poor darling.’ She wrapped Daisy into a huge, comfy hug. ‘You wanna have some of that Midnight Blue on the table.’ Daisy’s gaze flicked to the side and settled on the vial on the table. ‘I hear it can knock people out in minutes if they take enough. That’s a joke by the way. I don’t want to see you take stuff like that just to get a good night’s kip.’ Daisy looked up at the older woman. ‘It ain’t easy dealing with a loved one’s passing.’ Misty’s voice dipped low. ‘But then you know all about that.’
Daisy knew she was referring to her dad’s death. Her heart beat faster as it always did when she thought about being fifteen and standing over her dad’s coffin. Throwing a handful of dirt as the chill wind blew over her. No, it wasn’t easy and it didn’t get easier as time went past.
Suddenly Misty sneezed violently. She pushed Daisy away as she held a finger under her nose. ‘Hay fever is murdering me.’ She popped a heart-warming smile on to her face. ‘Why don’t I make us a brew?’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘With a little slug of gin in it to brighten up the day.’
Daisy couldn’t help but smile back. ‘No. I’ve got to go. Got a busy day at work.’
Misty tilted her head at her. ‘You work too hard, you do. I know you want to prove that you’re the best, but you’ve got to know when to kick off your heels and just shut the door on the world for a couple of hours.’
Daisy ran a hand wearily through her hair. Misty caught her arm as it fell from her hair. Her fingers touched Daisy’s bracelet. Daisy sucked in her breath. It was an unspoken rule that no one ever touched her there. Never spoke about that night when she was fifteen. Never reminded her about what a foolish thing she’d done. She tried to wrench her arm away, but Misty wouldn’t let go. Instead Misty spoke softly. ‘Jackie and my other girls might not have figured out why you work so bloody hard, but I have. Jackie’s gave you a home, gave you back a sense of family. But you want your own family and the only way you can do that is to work your cotton socks off.’ A faraway look settled in Misty’s eyes as she sighed. ‘I know how that feels. When I decided to let the world know that I was Misty not Michael, I was shitting myself. Thought I was going to lose the only family I ever had. But you know what I realised?’ The twinkle glimmered back in her eyes. ‘Family ain’t just your blood, the people you sat around the box watching EastEnders with. Your family are the people who look out for you, who love and hug you, who call you a silly cow when you need putting in your place, who don’t ask questions you don’t want them to.’
Silence fell around them as they stared at each other. The sun touched the river and swam into the room. ‘But you know what,’ Misty broke the silence. ‘I’m a nosey bitch, so I’m going to ask a question maybe you don’t want me to. What’s on your mind, Daisy? Why are you really here?’
The question took Daisy by complete surprise. She thought she’d been playing it quite cool and that the other woman would never guess that her mind was in meltdown about Charlie’s safe-deposit box. But then, someone was offering her the chance to unburden herself, and she was going to take it. ‘What would you do if you—?’ The ring of the phone on the desk stopped her words.
Misty swore as she marched towards the desk and checked the caller ID on the phone. ‘Sorry, I’ve really got to take this call. I’ve been trying to get hold of this supplier for ages – they’re going to get a mouthful from me if they don’t get that order sorted.’
As Misty picked up the phone Daisy headed for the door. ‘Stay put,’ Misty ordered, but Daisy was already opening the door.
‘We’ll chat later.’ Daisy blew Misty a kiss and was gone.
Misty kept one ear on the telephone conversation as she watched Daisy quickly cross the dance floor below. Something was on that girl’s mind. She’d been too nervous, like a cat that had just had its tail trodden on. If there was one thing that Misty could sniff out it was when trouble was brewing.
‘If it ain’t here by the end of the day, mate,’ Misty shot into the phone, ‘The Shim-Sham-Shimmy will be taking its business elsewhere.’ She cut the call and hugged the phone to her chest. Something was going on with Daisy; maybe she should contact Jackie. Mind made up she swung around and made her way to her desk. Trawled through the top drawer looking for the contact number of Roxy’s villa in Spain.
She plonked herself down as she dialled. The line connected. The other phone rang once. Twice. She slammed the phone down. No, she decided, she was being a silly old moo. Daisy had never done anything stupid in her life. Well, not since she’d done that crazy thing on the first night she’d been with Jackie. She was a good girl and a bloody hard worker and, if what Misty heard was true, was going to be one of the best lawyers in town one day. If Daisy was in any trouble she’d come and tell ole Misty? Wouldn’t she?
Misty put the phone aside. Started to put on her face. As she ran her flame red lipstick across her lips the words she’d told Jackie all those years ago kept going around and around in her mind: She remembered the horrified words she’d said to Jackie when she found out who Jackie had taken into her home.
‘You take in Frankie Sullivan’s little girl and you better be prepared for what’s going to land on your doorstep one day wrapped in a black ribbon – trouble.’
After leaving the club Daisy went straight to Curtis and Hopkirk’s. She knew what she had to do if she was going to get her hands on Charlie’s safe-deposit box. Quickly she shut the door of Charlie’s office and sat at the computer. Turned the machine on. She was asked to put in Charlie’s password, and she frantically tried a few combinations of numbers and letters until something clicked in her brain. Of course. She typed in ‘jennifer’, Charlie’s daughter’s name, and the screen changed to the main desktop display. As her hand moved towards the mouse she heard a door slam somewhere outside. Her hand hovered over the mouse as she twisted her head towards the door. Shit. Someone else was at work. She knew she had to move quickly because she couldn’t afford for anyone to find out what she was really doing in Charlie’s office. Her heartbeat increased as she flicked her gaze back to the computer. She moved the mouse until the cursor shifted across the screen. Clicked onto a folder. Clicked once again when she was inside. She scrolled down the long list of files. Shit, she didn’t know which one it was. She heard a door outside open. Her hand stopped moving. She stopped moving. Footsteps sounded outside in the corridor. Got closer to the door. Her breathing pumped loudly as she waited. The footsteps reached the door. Please, keep moving. Please keep moving.
The footsteps walked past. A wave of relief swept over her. She settled the arrow back over the first file. Clicked inside. Checked the contents. Shit. It didn’t contain what she was after. She went to the second file. The third. The fourth. The fifth.
Her hands punched high into the air as her mouth formed a silent, triumphant ‘Yessss!’ when she found the document she was searching for.
Quickly she copied and pasted the information on to a new document and began to type. Five minutes later she looked at her handiwork. Half the job was done. She searched back through the files. Kept clicking until she found what she was after. Charlie’s electronic signature. She clicked, dragged and pasted it onto the bottom of the document. She scanned the page quickly to ensure the alterations she had made were all in place. She found the print icon on the Toolbar and pressed. She got up and walked quickly to the printer on the other side of the room. A minute later she had the papers in her shaking hand. Read them. As she moved towards her bag she heard the footsteps again. Shock made her immobile. The footsteps grew closer. She dived for her bag. Picked it up. Opened her bag the same time the door of the office opened.
Daisy let out a huge pent-up breath as she stared at Sean, the security guard from downstairs. He stood in the doorway, an apologetic look on his face.
‘Yes?’ Her voice was impatient. She didn’t need to be held up, not bloody now.
‘Wasn’t sure if you were in yet, Miss Sullivan.’ His tone was quiet, his accent Irish. ‘There was a delivery for you. The guys who brought it have left it in your office. I hope that was alright for me to tell them to do that?’
So that was all the noise she’d been hearing outside. ‘Yeah, sure.’ She waved her hand dismissively at him and turned back to the computer.
‘Huge crate it was . . .’
She ignored him. He got the message and closed the door. Immediately she reached for her bag. Checked inside. Gazed at the safe-deposit security papers and the other document she had just printed. She slung the bag over her shoulder as she stood up and marched for the door. She opened it and stepped slap-bang into Randal Curtis. The impact jolted her back into Charlie’s office. Randal’s hands shot out to steady her.
‘You’re in early this morning,’ he said once she had her balance back under control. Two men, in beige overalls and baseball caps were wheeling a large trolley past them towards the lift.
She stared nervously at the wrinkles around his questioning eyes. Her fingers rubbed against her left bracelet. ‘Just getting some bits and pieces ready.’
‘So, have you finished packing Charlie’s belongings?’
Her fingers trailed to the straps of her bag. ‘They’ll be ready for his wife to collect by the end of the day.’
He pulled the lapels of his jacket together and spoke to her in the voice he used to wow the jury during closing statements. ‘Nothing interesting then? For me, I mean?’
If only he knew, she thought. ‘Just the usual stuff you’d expect to find. Charlie was a straight-down-the-line kind of man.’
‘Of course he was.’ He looked at her for a few seconds. ‘Good work, Sullivan. You’re the kind of person I would consider for partner in the future.’
If he had said this to her last week she’d be jumping for pure joy, but not today. ‘Mr Curtis, I was wondering if I could take a few hours this afternoon just to sort some bits and pieces out?’
He nodded at her and was gone. She collapsed back against the wall. A few seconds later she hitched herself up and marched towards her office. She kept moving as she flung the door open. She stopped mid-stride and took an immediate step back when she saw a large wooden crate in the middle of the room. The security guard hadn’t been kidding when he told her it was huge. The crate was tall rather than wide. She stepped towards it, giving it a puzzled look because she hadn’t ordered anything. Then a huge smile beamed across her face. It must be from Jerome. Every now and again he liked surprising her with pressies, which she loved. Looking at the size of this one he’d outdone himself this time. It was a few inches shorter than she was, so she stood on a chair, and began to eagerly remove the lid. She placed it on the floor and shot back up to peer inside. The top was stuffed full of crumpled newspaper with strands of something that reminded her of tousled blond hair peeping from the middle. She couldn’t even begin to think what type of present this was. She leant down and swept the newspaper to one side. Pushed her fingers into the hair-like mass. Tipped it sideways. She gasped, covering her mouth in horror when she realised what it was. Who it was. Angel. Her friend’s sightless eyes stared back at her. Daisy’s gaze skidded downwards and stopped when she saw the line of dried blood on the neck. Angel’s throat had been cut.
Chapter Fourteen
Daisy covered her mouth with horror as she stared at . . . at . . . at . . . Her hand pressed harder against her mouth. She felt her tummy move. Shit, she was going to be sick. Her cheeks bellowed to the size of mini balloons as she dry heaved. As she stared at the dead body of her best friend.
She might not be dead, Daisy reasoned crazily. She might just be . . . hurt. Daisy’s trembling hands fluttered away from her face. She could barely look at her friend, whose grey face had lost its artificially tanned look. She leant forward, moving her hand cautiously towards the body. Her bracelet jangled as she reached towards the pulse in Angel’s neck. She avoided looking at the deep cut below. She found her pulse. Froze. She didn’t need a doctor, the coldness of the skin told Daisy all she needed to know. Angel was dead.
A few tears spilt down her cheek as her hand moved away. She got off the chair and eased backwards. Towards her desk. Reached towards the phone. Punched in 999. But before a voice could ask which service she required, she slammed down the phone as a terrible thought came to her. What if the police came and asked her what she was doing in the office so early? What if they found the documents in her bag? She shuffled back from the desk as panic took hold of her and leant against the wall. Shit, what was she going to do? Without knowing she was doing it, her hand dived into the pocket of her business jacket. Found her bottle of happy pills. She had meant to throw them away but somehow she found herself putting them in her pocket earlier, before she left for the Shim-Sham-Shimmy. Mind still moving at a mile a minute she unscrewed the lid. Tipped the bottle to her mouth. Closed her eyes as soon as she felt one of the pills fall on her tongue. Swallowed, hard. She stood traumatised, fixed in position, still trying to figure out what to do. She gave the medication time to work, but just taking them had a placebo effect. Her breathing slowed down. Her nerves settled back. Her blue eyes flashed open. She knew what she had to do. She was going to move the body. Get it out of her office.
‘That’s not clever is it? You’re my kid, aren’t you? Think about what you’re doing . . .’
Startled she swung her gaze in the direction of the voice. Frankie Sullivan’s voice. And there he stood, as casual as they come, leaning on the wall on the other side of the door. He was decked out in black jeans, a plain polo shirt with the collar turned up and his golden hair was tousled as if he’d just woken up.
He popped off the wall. Sauntered towards her. From the deep colour of his eyes she could see that he was furious with her. ‘You can’t move a body. Look at the size of you.’
‘But Dad, the cops might think I had something to do with it.’
He pushed his palms flat onto his hipbones. ‘And why the bollocks would they think that? Unless you’re hiding something, of course.’
Daisy’s clamped the bag closer to her body using her upper arm and elbow. ‘Dad, tell me what to do?’ she pleaded.
Frankie didn’t answer her. Instead he moved closer to the body in the crate. Tilted his head, making his hair flop over his face, as he peered hard at the now dead Angel. ‘The first firm I ever really joined was when I was your age when I died, fifteen years old. I was a general dogsbody, run-around-kid, kept my mouth zipped and did what I was told. My first job was to help this geezer move the body of this w
oman.’ Daisy sucked in her breath, but he didn’t look around. ‘Don’t know what the poor cow did but they fucked her over so bad you couldn’t see her face no more. Fuck, that was the first time I ever saw someone who was brown bread. So I helped shift her and you wanna know what I found out?’ Now he cocked his head back at her. ‘A dead body is one of the heaviest things to move. I developed muscles moving her I can tell you. So the first reason you can’t do it is cos you couldn’t carry it anyway. And number two, the cops won’t think you done it.’
‘I found the body didn’t I? I’ll be in the frame.’
He turned back to the body. ‘She’s been dead too long. She was killed when you were still in bed.’ He peered deeper. ‘And look at this.’ His finger waved above the cut on Angel’s throat. ‘This was a professional hit. Severed her windpipe quick and clean. You’re not a professional killer are you? They’ll know that.’ He studied the dead body. ‘You know what we’ve got here don’t ya?’ He turned his eyes back on her. She shook her head. ‘A horse’s head.’
‘A what?’
‘Remember that scene in The Godfather where the bloke wakes up to find the head of his favourite horse on the pillow next to him? That was a warning. This is your warning, girl. That’s why she’s been dumped in your office. Someone’s trying to tell you something.’
She stared at the body even more confused now. A warning of what? No one else knew about Charlie’s deposit box.
‘You need to watch your back,’ Frankie gave his own warning as he straightened up.
But before she could respond the door handle started to move. She sprang off the wall. The handle kept turning.
Gangster Girl Page 10
