by KERRY BARNES
As he turned to storm away, Phil clutched his arm again. ‘Sir, we need to ask you a few questions.’
Torvic shook his head, shrugged the officer off, and marched towards his car.
Just as Phil was about to call after the scary old guy, a big-bellied gypsy accosted him. He came so close, Phil could smell the garlic from his breath.
‘I know who was in that caravan. Her name’s Jackie Menaces. She probably got pissed and set the van alight, mate.’
Phil stepped back to get a clearer look at the man who was in his face. ‘Do you know the woman? Only …’ – he pointed to the wild man who was about to get into his car – ‘that gentleman wanted to know if it was his granddaughter in the caravan.’
Torvic stopped in his tracks and turned to face them.
The chubby traveller, with a toothless grin, shook his head. ‘Nah, it was Jackie. I saw her through the window earlier.’
‘Was anyone else with her?’ asked Phil.
‘Nah, I only saw her walking around in her caravan. She’s a pisshead. She likes a good drink, that one.’
‘Are you sure no one else was with her?’
The toothless gypsy nodded his head. ‘I tell ya, it was Jackie Menaces in that van. Ask me missus. She saw her an’ all. We were coming back from feeding the horses, and as we walked past her van, me ol’ gal, said, “Look at her. She’s got a glass of vodka in her hand already.”’
‘Are you positive it was Jackie Menaces, though?’
‘Cor, yeah. ’Course I’s sure. I ain’t blind. We all knows Jax. She’s the local slut.’
Phil frowned. ‘And how do you know it was vodka she was drinking?’
The gypsy laughed. ‘’Cos that’s what she always drinks – morning, noon, and night.’
‘And your name, sir?’
‘Jericho. Me missus is Mena. That’s her, over there.’
Phil nodded and gingerly stepped towards the large woman, who was clearly shaken up. Her face was pale, and her eyes were turned down at the sides, red-rimmed and glazed over.
‘Your husband said you saw Jackie Menaces in the caravan before the fire. Is that correct? And is there anything else you can remember?’
Mena swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from her top lip. ‘All I saw through Jackie’s window – she don’t have nets up, see – was her standing with a large glass tumbler in her hand. It was clear liquid. The gal never drinks water, so I guessed it was vodka.’ Her voice cracked. ‘She has a son, little Richard Menaces. Sorry, I mean Ricky Regan.’
Torvic had heard enough. The police were now busy taking notes, and so it was his call to leave.
Cora, Tatum’s wife, heard Mena talking to the policeman and decided to join in. She edged her way over and stood side by side with Mena. ‘Yeah, that’s right. The bitch told us the boy was called Richard Menaces, but it was all a pack o’ lies. The boy got released early from prison, probably living with his real farver, no doubt. He’s some geezer called Mike Regan.’
Phil pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket. ‘Mike Regan, did you say?’
Cora nodded. ‘Yeah. He was in the nick an’ all. Me husband reckons he’s a bit of a gangster or summat.’
‘So, then, did this Mike Regan hold a grudge or …?’
With a smug smile on her face, Cora put in her two pennies’ worth. ‘She had loads of enemies, that skanky bitch. She was always conning people, selling gear … even her own arse. She lied about her boy, and from what me ol’ man says, Mike Regan thought his boy was dead until he met the kid in the nick.’
Phil smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you. Um …’
‘Cora. Me name’s Cora. I live in that van over there.’ She pointed to the caravan, two behind the remains of Jackie’s.
‘I’ll call by and get a statement from both of you, if you don’t mind.’
* * *
An hour later, Phil had left the site, on his way back to the station to write up his report. He decided to put in a call to Detective Inspector Lowry. ‘Mike Regan. Does that name mean anything to you?’
Lowry was just about to tuck into a burger when he answered the phone. ‘Yes, it does. Why?’
‘Gov, his ex-wife’s van has been burned to the ground. There’s a body inside. It may be her. It could be murder, Gov, because the door was locked, and so whoever was inside couldn’t escape.’
‘Okay, Phil, leave it with me. I’ll pay him a visit.’
‘Gov, do you think he may have torched it, revenge and all?’
‘No, Phil, it’s not his style, but, Phil, leave Regan out of this. He’s … Let’s just say he’s helping us with our inquiries.’
Lowry wiped the tomato sauce from around his mouth and let out a heavy sigh. Releasing Mike Regan and his firm early in return for cleaning the streets of the Flakka drug was questionable at every turn and not a decision he’d agreed with at the time. As far as he was aware, the firm had found the gang leader, the man they referred to as the Governor, and that was the end of it. The team were told not to ask questions, and, sure as hell, he wanted the least bit of involvement as possible. His superior, the Police Commissioner Conrad Stoneham, was on leave, and it was a good job too since it wasn’t looking good for him at the moment. For Stoneham’s sister, the MP, had been arrested for failing to stop at an accident, and, right now, with the Commissioner’s face plastered across every newspaper, he was right to take time off. Having Regan brought in for questioning was something he really didn’t relish, but it might have to be done. He would put it off though until Stoneham returned. The Commissioner could take the stick if Regan had killed his ex-wife. He himself wanted nothing to do with it.
‘Damn you, Stoneham. You should’ve let sleeping dogs lie,’ he mumbled to himself.
Chapter 7
Roaring along the lane, Torvic suddenly braked; his car and his mind were running out of control. A recollection stabbed him hard, bringing his hopes down to earth like a bloody great boulder crushing him. What if he was wrong and it was Jackie leaving the site in a hurry? If she had double-crossed him – murdered his granddaughter – then, no doubt, she would be heading for Mike’s drum. ‘Bitch!’ he yelled, as he banged the steering wheel. ‘The fucking bitch!’ Anger and frustration burned the back of his throat as his eyes stung with bitter tears.
He had no time to plan his next move. All he could think of was to go in like a bat out of hell and shoot every last one of the Regans and then carve up Zara like a Sunday roast. Jackie, though, if she was alive, would suffer a different fate. He would take extra delight in consuming her to ashes. He would first douse her in petrol and then watch her burn alive. No one hurt his Tiffany and lived to tell the tale.
* * *
Jackie felt relief as she approached Mike’s house. She had looked a hundred times in her rear-view mirror to check that Torvic wasn’t chasing her.
She went over and over in her head how she would approach Mike. What was her excuse for rescuing Torvic? How would it look to Mike? Yet she had the granddaughter locked in her own caravan, and she’d passed Torvic on his way back. She could hand Mike the keys with a smile on her face and say, ‘All yours.’ She would look the hero, except for the fact that she’d rescued Torvic and his granddaughter in the first place. So how was she going to overcome that little issue?
Slowing down as she approached Mike’s drive, her palms felt clammy, and her heart was suddenly racing. Fuck! What was she thinking? Who was the lesser of two evils? Mike hadn’t physically hurt her, even though she’d stolen his money and taken Ricky away from him. She still had one thing over him, though: she was Ricky’s mother. So many questions kept popping up in her mind, she had to stop the car and take a deep breath. Out of the blue, another thought materialized. What if she told him that she’d had no choice? What if she said that if she hadn’t rescued Torvic, he would have instructed one of his men to have Ricky killed – their beloved Ricky?
The gates were closed, and so she had to ring the buzzer set into the wall. There w
as no answer. She buzzed again and waited, pulling her tatty old coat tighter around her as if by a miracle it could protect her from the cold. Staring up at the house, she noticed that there were no lights on, and as it was still quite dark, they almost certainly would be if he was there. A final press of the intercom had her worried. If Mike wasn’t at home and she didn’t find him soon, then it would be over because Torvic would no doubt come gunning for her. She swallowed hard when she realized that no amount of buzzing would make Mike miraculously appear.
Returning to her car, she locked herself in. Chewing her fingernails down to the quick, she winced as the sores stung. There was only one thing left to do and that was to go to his parents’ place, Arthur and Gloria’s. She shuddered, knowing full well that they would look at her with utter disgust and probably send her packing – with a swift kick up the arse as well, if Gloria had her way. All she could hope for was that Mike would be there.
* * *
Torvic knew exactly where both Mike and Eric lived. He drove like a madman to his lock-up, a dirty old garage at the end of his dead mother’s garden. It was an unsuspecting place, which was overgrown with weeds and ivy. He’d kept the house going and used it as a safety net; it was his hideout when needed. Inside the garage, he kept his tools, his weapons, including an arsenal of guns, a few hand grenades, and his collection of butcher’s knives. He put on the single centre light and wasted no time in scooping up the firearms and carrying them to the boot of his car. Luckily, the lane that ran the length of the back of the houses onto the main street was hardly ever used. Most of the residents were elderly pensioners who didn’t own a car. Once his boot was full, he slammed it shut and zoomed away.
In his mind, he imagined shooting the Regan brothers down like tin soldiers. So what if he went to jail; he really didn’t care anymore, as long as he killed them all – every last one of them.
* * *
Eric checked the back door was bolted shut. ‘Dad, listen. You have to keep this door locked, right?’
Arthur gave a grin that said he was up to something.
‘What?’ asked Eric, concerned that his father wasn’t taking the situation regarding his own safety seriously enough.
With that, Arthur pulled a gun from the back of his trousers.
‘Jesus, Dad, this Torvic geezer ain’t like any old-school fucking gangster. He’s on a whole different level. He won’t talk and give you time to pull your bloody gun out. He’ll come in like a tornado.’
Arthur stopped grinning and studied the worried look on his son’s face. ‘Son, you and your brother have run the firm for years after me, but I ain’t past it, ya know.’
Eric stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. ‘This ain’t like old times, Dad. I told you: this Torvic has no scruples. You can forget that he won’t hurt women and children. He’ll throw acid in Muvver’s face as soon as he looks at her. You don’t understand. The guy’s a complete arsehole.’
Arthur dropped his shoulders and sat heavily in the armchair. ‘All right, Son. So what’s going on now?’
Eric was about to reply, but he stopped when he spotted his mother standing there in the doorway, her face almost grey with worry.
‘Carry on, Eric. I think I’ve as much right to know as ya farver.’
Eric sighed as he looked at his mother. In her designer dress, she wouldn’t look out of place in The Lady. He’d never seen her during the day without a hint of make-up and her hair immaculately styled.
‘Mum, listen. There’s this geezer called Torvic that we had locked up, and trust me, when I say he’s one cruel, evil bastard. He’s now on the loose. Mike and Zara sent the youngsters to Spain, and now Liam’s gone missing.’ He stopped, when he saw his mother drop the towel and throw her hands to her mouth in horror.
‘Jesus, little Liam. Oh my God.’
‘Well, we don’t know for sure if it was Torvic that snatched him, because as soon as we found out he’d escaped, we flew the youngsters over to Terrence’s villa. It would take a lot for this Torvic bloke to get on a plane and manage to kidnap Liam as well. However, we all need to be really vigilant. It might be worth you two going away for a bit. Why don’t ya? Don’t tell anyone. Just grab a few bits and get on a plane or nip down to the coast.’
Gloria, still in shock, looked at Arthur. ‘Well, don’t just sit there like a gormless git! If our Mikey wants us away, then let’s just go and give him less to worry about.’
Eric bit his lip. It had always been the same. She had invariably referred to Mikey as the voice of reason. Why couldn’t she just do as he said and respect his wishes for once? It was as if Mikey was the only person she wouldn’t see upset, hurt, or stressed. Still, this wasn’t the time to be arguing about that now.
‘All right, Glor. Pack a bag – not a fucking large suitcase – and throw me in some strides and a few tops. We can go to the Lake District.’
With her mouth open and her eyes bulging, she glared at Arthur.
‘Well, get a move on, girl! You’ve frigging well moaned for years that you wanted to go there. It beats me why, though. It’s a fucking damp, dreary place, full of sheep and hills. I bet ya can’t even get Sky up there.’
‘To be honest, Arthur, I couldn’t give a shit right now. I won’t enjoy it, not while I’m worrying about the family, and as for poor little Liam, love his heart, I’m absolutely heartbroken. My God, what his mother’s—’
‘Glor, get a wiggle on, will ya!’
Gloria didn’t wait about: she hurtled off up the stairs to begin the packing.
‘Dad, be safe, yeah? We don’t know what his next move is.’
Arthur rose from his chair and straightened his jumper. ‘You just keep me and ya mother informed. I wanna know that you lot are okay and won’t take any chances. We’ve been through enough in our family to last a lifetime.’
Eric hugged his father and quickly left. He had work to do, to try and track down the so-called Governor before Torvic found him. He knew damn well that he would be first on Torvic’s hit list.
* * *
Gloria was heavy-handed, forcing the clothes into the small suitcase. Her heart was thumping as her inner anger was bubbling. She only wished she was twenty years younger – she would have hunted this Torvic bloke down herself.
Just as she was imagining what she would do to him, there was a bang at the front door. She stopped zipping up the case and bolted down the stairs, only to find Arthur, at the side of the door, trying to see through the small hallway window who was outside.
She tutted as she pushed past him. ‘Who is it?’ she bellowed.
‘Er, it’s me, Jackie. Is, er … is Mike there? I need to speak to him urgently.’
Arthur placed the gun back into his belt and sighed. Tensions were high, but what he didn’t expect to see was Gloria rip open the door, pull her fist back, and crack Jackie full-on on the chin.
Jackie was just as surprised as Arthur. She faltered, wobbled, and stepped back, clutching her face.
‘You good-for-nuffin fucking whore! How dare you come here looking for my boy! You almost destroyed all of us, with your lying and fucking cheating, and as for poor Ricky, ya fucking trollop, I …’ She stopped to take a deep breath.
Arthur grabbed Gloria around the waist before she launched another attack.
‘What the hell are you doing ’ere, Jackie?’ asked Arthur, in a calm and yet firm voice.
‘I need to see Mikey. I’ve some information for him.’
As Arthur stupidly let go of his wife to invite Jackie in, Gloria threw herself again at Jackie, snatching a large clump of her hair and pulling her to the ground. She clawed and punched at Jackie’s face until Arthur eventually managed to pull her off.
‘You evil scumbag! Just fuck off! If you’ve something for Mikey, I’ve something for you …’ But Arthur’s grip was too tight for her to have another go.
Jackie was horrified and totally unprepared for that vicious attack, especially from a woman old enough to be
her mother. Yet she shouldn’t have been surprised; she was Mikey’s mother, and her past record was enough to remind everyone that when it came to her son and grandson, she took no shit.
Arthur was still struggling to hold Gloria. She wriggled and tried to yank herself away, almost turning her cardigan top inside out and ripping the seams of her freshly ironed dress.
‘You’d better piss off, Jackie, because the minute I let her go, she’ll take your fucking face off.’
‘Arthur, get the fuck off me! I wanna smash the life outta that tramp, after all she’s put us through!’ screamed Gloria. It took all of Arthur’s considerable strength to hold her back. He knew the minute he released her, she wouldn’t stop. She was like a feral cat, hissing and spitting.
‘You fucking scrubber. I’ll kill ya, fucking kill ya … Let me go, Arthur!’
Jackie clutched at her cut and swollen face and felt the pain. As her eyes fell to the path, she saw clumps of her hair strewn everywhere. Yet it was the punch on the chin and the other one to her nose that had her reeling. Everything seemed foggy as if she’d just smoked a joint. Luckily, she still had enough awareness to know that it was time to run. Blinking back the tears in her eyes, she turned and scurried away. Usually, she would’ve given anyone a right mouthful back, but she was knocked sideways, and she knew in her heart that if Arthur hadn’t been there, Gloria would’ve hurt her badly, if not killed her.
As soon as she was safe in the confines of her car, she took several deep breaths to calm her heart, which was pummelling at a rate of knots. Her hands were shaking as she tried to insert the key into the ignition, but the more she panicked, the harder it was until, finally, she stopped and took more deep breaths before she was able to drive away.
