Bad Blood Rising

by Eva Carmichael

  “Keep in touch?” Danny mocked once the taxi picked up speed. “You must be fucking joking.”

  “Is everything alright?” Billy asked. “You’re not upset to be leaving, are you, Danny?”

  “Of course I’m not upset. I can’t wait to get away. But there is one thing I forgot to mention to Karl, but it’s too late now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I forgot to warn him not to leave Victor alone with young girls. But I’m sure he’ll find that out for himself soon enough.”

  TWENTY

  The next day, Joe drove over to Percival Terrace. The house Karl had rented, number sixteen, was a stone-built end of terrace. It had a small garden to the front with a dwarf wall and a large bay window. Joe carefully surveyed the houses along the street and at the other side of the narrow road. All occupied by respectable, hard-working people, he surmised. Not the sort of people to tolerate a brothel on their doorstep.

  Opening the front door, he walked inside to be greeted by a large, imposing hallway with a cloakroom to the side. His first impression was the house was well maintained and spotlessly clean. The hallway was carpeted in dark blue with immaculate white walls. Karl had told him the house was partly furnished so he was expecting to see the odd chair and table. On entering the lounge he was pleasantly surprised to see a large white leather corner suite and two matching armchairs. A thick, dark grey carpet covered the floor and bright yellow curtains were at the windows. The fire surround was white marble with a log-effect electric fire. A large mirror hung above the fireplace and a collection of eight landscape paintings covered the walls.

  “Mm… not bad,” he thought. “Not bad at all.”

  Joe made his way to the back of the house into a smaller sitting room, tastefully decorated in pale blue. This room had a two-seater couch and an armchair. On the other side of the hall was a modern kitchen with a door leading to the rear of the property. It was this that Joe was most interested in. He opened the outer door onto a flagged patio with a small lawn area. The whole of the outside space was surrounded by a high solid wooden fence with a sturdy gate at the far side. This ensured the property was completely private. Joe opened the gate and noted that a public car park was just feet away, enabling clients to park and enter the rear of the property without scrutiny from the neighbours. He smiled. Karl certainly knew what he was doing in choosing a location. He walked back into the house and up the broad, carpeted staircase. The landing opened out to four bedrooms, all large enough to house a double bed and side table. Two of the rooms were furnished and one of them had an en suite. There was a bathroom at the far side of the corridor.

  “Perfect,” he grinned.

  He was halfway down the stairs when he heard a sharp rap on the front door. Opening it, he was surprised to see Shirley standing on the doorstep. He hadn’t seen her since the night he had been attacked by the Kennedys.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, grabbing her by the arm and pushing her into the house. He looked anxiously up the street to see if anyone had seen her. Shirley was wearing her usual fake fur jacket and black leather mini skirt. Her make-up was heavy and poorly applied, and her long black hair looked unruly.

  “Nice to see you too,” she sneered. “That’s not a very nice way to say hello.”

  “What are you doing here?” Joe repeated sternly.

  “I heard Karl was opening up this house.”

  “And you thought you’d like to work here? Sorry, Shirley, but…”

  “No, it’s not that, Joe. I don’t want to work here. I want Karl to let me run the house.”

  “What? You? You must be joking.”

  “Why not me?” Shirley cried indignantly. “I know the business inside out. You know you can trust me. Please, Joe, I’m begging you.”

  Joe sighed in frustration. “Shirley, running a house is a lot different from working in one. You can’t sleep with the punters for one thing.”

  “I know that. What makes you think I want to?”

  “Sorry, Shirley, but I don’t think you’d be right for the job. If I were you, I’d stick to what you do best.”

  “Please, Joe, at least think about it. I know I can do it if you just give me a chance.” Tears began to run down her cheeks causing her mascara to blotch

  “Why do you want to run the house anyway? I thought you were happy working the streets.”

  “I was,” Shirley sniffed into her handkerchief. “I was very happy. But when those Kennedys hit me and I saw what they did to you, I got really scared. I just can’t face going back on the streets again. I’m terrified. I’ll feel a lot safer if I was working inside the house.”

  “But, Shirley, you…”

  “Damn it, Joe, you owe me!” she shrieked. “If it hadn’t been for me…”

  “I know, and I’m grateful, but I still think working here is not for you.”

  “At least give me a trial, say one month. What have you got to lose? I promise you won’t regret it. Please, Joe.”

  “Alright, let me think about it,” Joe said hesitantly. “No promises, Shirley, but I’ll think about it. I’ll have a word with Karl and see what he thinks. Okay?”

  Shirley responded by throwing her arms around Joe and kissing him on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Joe. I knew I could rely on you.”

  “I said I would think about it, Shirley, that’s all. Are you still working in Broughton Street?”

  “Yes. I work there three days a week.”

  “Okay, you carry on there and I’ll be in touch.”

  Smiling, Shirley walked over to the front door, but Joe grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t use this door,” he said sternly. “We’re only using the back, it’s more private.” He guided her into the kitchen and into the rear garden.

  “This place is a lot posher than Broughton Street,” Shirley grinned. “Is Karl going up-market?”

  Joe shrugged. “Business is improving, I suppose. Now you get yourself off, and keep your mouth shut. I don’t want any more of the street girls pestering for work.”

  Smiling, Shirley made her way towards the gate. “See ya later, Joe, and thanks.”

  Back in the house, Joe made a list of what was needed, and feeling quietly confident that Percival Terrace could be a big money earner, he went into the street and carefully locked the door behind him.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Joe was busy supervising the workmen removing the last of the lighting fixtures when Karl arrived with Victor.

  “How’s it going?” Karl asked casually. “Did you visit Percival Terrace?”

  “Yeah, it looks good.”

  “I thought you’d like it. Have you got it fully staffed yet?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get the girls.”

  “Well, just make sure they’re the right girls. I don’t want any slappers in that house. Percival Terrace is going to have class.”

  “I know that,” Joe answered indignantly. “Trust me, Karl, they’ll be quality girls. Talking of slappers though, Shirley called to the house this morning.”

  “Shirley? What the fuck did she want?”

  “You’re not going to believe this. Shirley asked if she could have a job running the house.”

  “You are kidding me, right? Shirley?”

  “She said she’s too scared to work the streets since she was attacked the other night. She wants a job working inside the house.”

  “She works at Broughton Street, doesn’t she? What’s wrong with that?”

  “She doesn’t want punters any more. She wants to run Percival Terrace.”

  “I hope you told her to piss off.”

  “I did say no at first, of course I did, but the more I think about it, Karl, the more I think it might not be such a bad idea.”

  “No, absolutely not,” Karl said emphatically. “I can’t see Shirley as a Madam. She’s a street girl, always has been.”

  “But just think about it. If we scrape some of her make-up off and dress he
r more appropriately, she might be alright. At least with Shirley you know she’s straight.”

  Karl lapsed into silence for a couple of minutes.

  “I suppose so,” he said at last. “Shirley is the wrong side of thirty to be on the streets. Tell her we’ll give her a trial, but no promises, mind. We can always bounce her out if she’s not up to it.”

  “Okay. I’ll get Marion to knock her into shape.”

  “I was thinking of advertising the house next week, if you’re sure you can get the girls.”

  “No problem. I’ve already met half a dozen suitable girls and I’ve arranged to meet three more at the Black Swan later.”

  “Good. Let’s hope they’re up to it, but no slappers. You know the sort of girls I want in there.” Karl walked towards the club’s foyer, followed closely by Joe. “Come and look upstairs. I’ve made a few changes already.” Both men began ascending the stairs. Suddenly, Karl stopped and turned to Victor. “Before I forget, I want you to watch the girls in Cedar Road tonight. Will you be alright on your own?”

  “Yes, Mr Karl. I’ll take care of your girls. No need for you to worry,” Victor replied, giving Karl his broadest smile.

  “Good, I’ll speak to you later about collecting the money.” Karl made his way up the staircase, Joe by his side.

  Two stud walls had been erected in the corner and a door had already been hung.

  “This is going to be my office. I’ve had it made twice the original size. When it’s been decorated it will look the dog’s bollocks.” He walked over to a door in the far corner of the office. “Take a look at this, Joe,” he said, opening the door and walking into the cupboard. He pressed the concealed lever and the back wall opened out revealing the stairs. “You can see everything that’s going on in the club from down here.”

  Joe followed Karl down the steep stairs and along the corridor. From behind the fleur-de-lis he could see the builders in the club going about their work, all oblivious to their presence.

  “Bloody hell, Karl, this is incredible.”

  “Danny’s father had it built years ago. Don’t say a word to anyone about it, mind. Only Victor knows about it and that’s the way I want it to stay.”

  “Sure, boss. My lips are sealed.”

  Both men ascended the stairs and returned to the office. Karl walked over to the drinks cabinet.

  “Drink?” he said, as he poured himself a whisky.

  “No thanks, I’ve got some work to do later. I don’t want to stink of booze.”

  “Very commendable,” Karl grinned as he swallowed the whisky in one gulp. He walked over to his large new desk just as the telephone rang.

  “Barney!” he said, leaning over the desk. “How’s it going, mate?”

  “Karl, I’m sorry but I have some bad news.”

  “What’s happened? Is it Jason?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Barney lapsed into silence.

  “Well?” Karl asked with concern. “What’s up?”

  “I did what you asked,” Barney said solemnly. “I got my bloke on the inside to pick a fight with Jason in the canteen. He knocked his dinner plate out of his hands.”

  “Jason wouldn’t like that.”

  “He mouthed off at my man, but that’s all. He just went back to the counter and got another plate.”

  “He didn’t retaliate? That’s not like Jason.”

  “No, Karl, you don’t understand. Jason did retaliate. It was later that day in the showers. He attacked my man with a blade.”

  “He did what?” Karl hissed, the colour draining from his face. “What happened?”

  “My man got cut pretty bad. He thought Jason was going to kill him so he punched him hard and Jason fell backwards. He cracked his head on the tiled wall.”

  “Is he alright? Is Jason alright?”

  “I’m afraid he’s dead. It was all very quick, he wouldn’t have known much about it.”

  Karl’s body stiffened. He sat down heavily on the chair behind his desk.

  “I’m so sorry, Karl. It was an accident. A fucking stupid accident.”

  Karl was silent for a minute. “Thanks for telling me,” he said eventually, returning the telephone to its cradle.

  He sat for a few minutes staring blankly ahead as the realisation of what he had been told slowly began to sink in. Jason, his baby brother, the brother that he had always felt responsible for, was dead. Jason was dead and it was his fault.

  “Is everything alright, Karl?” Joe asked. “You look like shit.”

  Karl shook his head slowly, and then lowered it in his hands. Joe had never seen Karl cry before. He felt uncomfortable seeing his friend sobbing, his broad shoulders shaking uncontrollably. After a few minutes Karl stopped and handed Joe the empty glass, nodding towards the whisky. Joe refilled the glass and handed it to his friend.

  “You met my brother Jason, didn’t you?” Karl said eventually. “He was inside the same time that we were.”

  “Yeah,” Joe replied, recalling the aggressive, vicious young thug. “I take it it’s not good news?”

  “He’s dead. Jason got involved in a prison fight, the stupid bugger.”

  “I’m sorry, mate,” Joe said with feeling.

  Karl took a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and wiped his eyes. “Jason started taking drugs when he was about fifteen. He was hooked by the time he was twenty. That’s why I won’t have drugs anywhere near my business. I’ve seen first-hand what it did to my brother.” He walked over to the window and stared out onto the street for a couple of minutes. “He was always up for a fight was Jason. Do you remember that time he took on two of the guards in the exercise yard? It took five of them to get him back to his cell.”

  “I remember,” Joe grinned. “He didn’t take shit from anybody.”

  “That’s right,” Karl smiled weakly. “That was down to the drugs. He was his own worst enemy, our kid. He didn’t seem to understand when to fight and when to walk away.”

  “I will have that drink, if you don’t mind,” Joe sighed, walking over to the cabinet. “What was Jason inside for this time?”

  “He half killed a copper when he tried to arrest him for pinching cars.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Karl,” Joe said. “If there’s anything I can do…”

  “There’s nothing anyone can do. He’s dead. Gone. It’s like he never existed.”

  Both men lapsed into silence as Joe poured himself a whisky.

  “It’s our mother’s fault he turned out the way he did,” Karl said angrily, breaking the silence.

  “Your mother? What do you mean?”

  “I told you she was a whore, didn’t I?”

  “You mentioned it,” Joe replied, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

  “But I didn’t tell you what else she got up to.” Karl got up from his chair and began anxiously pacing the room. “She would bring men back to the house at night. Jason and I were told to stay upstairs in our room and not come down when she was entertaining. That’s what she called it, the dirty slag.” He walked over to the desk and took out a cigar. “Want one?”

  “No thanks, mate.”

  Karl lit the cigar and continued to pace. “Anyway one night, Jason would be about eight or nine, she was out on the streets as usual. Jason was thirsty so he went downstairs to the kitchen to get some water just as my mother and one of her men friends came into the house.”

  Joe could see Karl was physically trembling.

  “Jason never told me what happened that night, but he came back to the bedroom about half-an-hour later and I could see he’d been crying.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What could I do? I was thirteen. I was just a kid myself. He never spoke about what had gone on and I never asked him, but he changed. He became aggressive towards everyone, always fighting with the kids in school, when he bothered to go to school, that is.”

  “What about your mother? Didn’t she try to sort him out?”

  “My mother w
as too busy either getting high or getting laid to worry about Jason. I tried to help him but, well, you saw what he could be like. In the end I moved out when I was sixteen and left him to it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Joe said sincerely. “Like I said if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll deal with it. Anyway, you’d better get yourself over to the Black Swan.”

  “If you’re sure you’ll be alright. I…”

  “I’ll be fine. Just make sure you staff the house.”

  “Yeah, it’s a tough job but somebody’s got to do it.”

  Both men laughed.

  “See you tomorrow,” Karl said as he drained the last of the whisky from his glass.

  Left alone, Karl went over to the couch and began to sob uncontrollably.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Two weeks after Jason died, Percival Terrace was about to open for business. Joe had been pleasantly surprised to see the change in Shirley’s appearance. Whatever Marion had said to her certainly had the desired effect. Her usual short skirt and fake fur jacket had been replaced by a smart dark blue suit with an attractive floral top. Her makeup was now skilfully applied and her long, unruly black hair had been shaped into an attractive bob. She even seemed to have lost weight, Joe noticed approvingly.

  “The important thing to remember is to make sure both the girls and the clients use the rear entrance,” Joe said sternly. “Don’t let anyone use the front door.”

  “Of course not,” Shirley sighed. “We’ve been over this a dozen times already.”

  “Well, make sure you remember. I don’t want the neighbours seeing anyone other than you coming into the house through the front door.”

  “Don’t worry, they won’t. The door’s locked so nobody can get in that way.”

  “Just make sure it stays locked. Another thing, don’t forget what I said about the fees. If a girl doesn’t have the hundred pounds rent upfront, she doesn’t work. Never give credit, okay?”

  “Yes, I do know that. I’ve been in this business a long time. I know every trick in the book, believe me.”