BLOOD MONEY a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘I don’t want to go in there, Lee.’ Sally tried to keep her voice steady. She sat turned slightly away from him.

  Lee’s left hand shot out and grabbed a handful of her hair. He yanked it downwards so she was looking up at the roof of the car. He rested the knife-blade against her neck.

  ‘You don’t get to tell me what you want to do.’ Lee’s lips lifted in a snarl which showed his teeth. ‘If you try to run, I will catch you and you will not last this night. Do you understand me?’

  Sally’s eyes squeezed tight as Lee increased the pressure on her neck.

  ‘Do you understand?’ Lee repeated.

  Sally couldn’t open her mouth. She managed to jerk her head, away from the blade.

  ‘Good.’ Lee shoved his door open and got out of the car, his left hand still holding Sally by the hair. He dragged her over the centre console into the driver’s seat, then pulled her out of the car by her arm.

  The communal door was solid and heavy. Lee used Sally’s body to jam it open as it swung back. She took the blow in her right shoulder, but she was careful not to cry out.

  There was a sudden commotion on the stairs. A group of men had dropped a drinks can, or found one on the stairs, and were kicking it down, laughing and swearing.

  Lee let Sally go. ‘Walk up to the flat, don’t talk to no one, don’t say nothing,’ he hissed. Sally stopped at the bottom of the steps, with Lee behind her. She knew that if she walked up those steps she would never come back down. The group of men came into sight, down the last flight of steps, and came to a halt in front of Lee and Sally. Three of them, all drunk. They recognised Lee and made comments, offered handshakes and fist bumps. Lee ignored them and tried to push past.

  ‘Fuck him, then,’ slurred one.

  ‘All right, Geeeeee?’

  They were a few steps up from the bottom. The man at the front was holding a packet of cigarettes. He pulled at one to offer it to Lee and a handful came out and scattered across the floor. One of them fell at Sally’s feet.

  ‘Ah, fuck.’ The man bent down to retrieve it and at the same time, Sally bent too. The man lurched forward towards Sally.

  ‘Help me! Please,’ she hissed. She handed the cigarette back to him and they both straightened up. The man looked at her in confusion. Suddenly he caught on, and his face cracked with a smile.

  ‘Here, boys!’ he shouted. ‘She wants my help!’

  The other two men cheered loudly and offered some lewd comments. Lee glared at her.

  No one was going to help her. Not here.

  * * *

  Emily Ryker had been pacing her office. She had left a message on her boss’s mobile, requesting a call back. She wanted to tell him what had happened, everything she knew. She needed to tell someone. It had been six minutes now. She was wondering how long she should wait before ringing again when Martin strode into the office, making her jump.

  ‘Sir!’

  ‘Sally Morgan. She has disappeared.’ Martin stopped in the middle of the office. He stood stiffly before her, fidgeting with his hands, his mouth slightly open.

  Emily’s hand went to her nose, she was nervous too. ‘Okay . . .’

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Well no, sir. I wasn’t aware she was missing.’

  Martin stared at her. ‘I assume you still use the custody nurse’s Fiesta for trips out? You should know better than to use a mustard yellow car if you’re looking to blend in. You know a lot more than you’re letting on, Emily. This isn’t about source confidentiality now, it’s far more important than that.’

  Emily was a little caught out. ‘Look, I drove her home — to your home, and I left her there. If she’s not there now, then I only know what I told you yesterday, where she hangs out and where she’s been staying — but I don’t think she’ll be there.’

  ‘Peto Court,’ Martin stated. He lowered his gaze. ‘With that Lee Chivers animal. Why wouldn’t she be there?’ he demanded, watching her intently.

  ‘They’ve had a falling out.’

  ‘Did that piece of shit hurt her again?’

  Emily shrugged.

  ‘What is his door number?’

  ‘Sir, if you want to go down there to speak to him you’ll want a whole team. I can see if there’s anyone spare to do the door knock, but—’

  ‘His flat number.’ Martin raised his voice, then repeated more quietly, ‘Which flat, Emily. That’s all I’m asking from you.’

  Emily hesitated. ‘Forty-nine,’ she said, almost in a whisper.

  Martin turned on his heels and walked out of the door.

  * * *

  The last door. Then Sally would be on the landing that led to Lee’s flat, and there would be no turning back. She wanted to see Lizzy, she’d believed Lee when he said she was in the flat. She knew Lizzy had gone back to him and was stupid enough, or had been made scared enough, to stay in the flat and wait for him to return while he went out to pick her up. Sally could picture Lee giving Lizzy a bag of heroin. After the day she’d had, a long day without, it would have switched her off completely for the time Lee was out. She would be starting to function again about now, and they would walk in to find her lethargic and chilled, like a drunk on a sunny park bench.

  Maybe they would talk about what they’d heard. Maybe Lee would be able to explain it away. Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding. Sally hesitated at the communal door, with the palm of her hand against it.

  Lee waved his card at the sensor and she shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. It was no misunderstanding. Lee Chivers had beaten someone to death earlier that day, and now the only two people who could point the finger at him would be back in his flat and under his control. Suddenly Sally realised the seriousness of her situation. Maybe Lizzy was dead already. She was now certain that in a very short time she would be dead too.

  Sally spun round to face Lee. She had seen him fiddle with the knife. She was certain he had tucked it in the back of his jeans and she knew her only chance was to get hold of it. She bent her head and went for his midriff in a kind of rugby tackle, her hands grabbing for the weapon.

  Lee was caught out. Sally wasn’t heavy but the surprise impact of her head in his midriff made him take two steps backwards, where his foot came into contact with the raised grip strip that marked the top of the steps. Sally kept pushing, her hands fiddling with his belt.

  Lee got his feet more firmly grounded, but he was still off balance. The brand new rubber of Sally’s trainers squeaked on the concrete floor as she pushed forward with all her strength. She could see the steps drop away just behind Lee, but he started to push back. Sally felt her feet losing traction. She had one more big push in her. She stepped back to give herself momentum and dove forward.

  But she didn’t get the chance. As she rocked back, Lee brought down both his fists into the small of her back and she folded in half. Lee fell on top of her. He used the fall to bring his knee down hard into the back of Sally’s head, pushing her face into the concrete. She cried out.

  ‘Bitch!’ Lee brought his knee down again, against the back of Sally’s head.

  She groaned in pain, but managed to twist her head enough to avoid taking the impact on her nose again. Lee raised his knee and brought it down again, and again, his face twisted into a snarl.

  ‘Fucking bitch! This what you fucking want?’ Lee smashed his knee into her one more time.

  Lee looked up. Frank from number 59 stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. Lee stood up.

  ‘What the fuck you want?’ Lee panted.

  ‘She okay?’ Frank was trying to peer round Lee.

  ‘What the fuck’s it got to do with you?’

  Frank met his gaze without flinching. ‘I don’t like blokes that hit women.’

  Lee smiled — a flicker, and then it was gone. ‘I don’t just hit women.’

  The two men stared at each other. Frank broke first and took a step back.

  ‘Now fuck off.’

  Frank sl
unk back into his flat.

  Lee stood over Sally. He rolled her on to her back. Her eyes were half open. Her breathing was shallow, but she was still breathing. Lee smiled. She was going to come round very soon, and then she would be all his.

  He took hold of Sally’s feet and dragged her down the corridor and into the flat.

  * * *

  On any other day, Martin might have enjoyed the drive. He had taken a marked Ford Focus from the rear yard. It had been the only one whose keys still hung on the board. He activated the siren and the rush hour traffic struggled to part for him.

  Peto Court was only a few minutes from the police station but Martin swore at every car that blocked his route, every red light that snarled the traffic further, every headphone-wearing pedestrian that walked across a zebra crossing. A mini-roundabout at the end of the High Street marked the top of the hill leading to Peto Court. The traffic there was at a complete standstill. The blue flashes from the Ford bounced off shop windows and the polished metal of railings, shop complexes and other vehicles, until it seemed that the air itself was pulsing blue. The siren reverberated from wall to wall like an injured animal, trapped among the tall buildings. All this did nothing but close the gaps.

  ‘Fuck,’ Martin said. He beat the steering wheel. The red mist was descending.

  * * *

  Sally rolled on to her side and retched. Lee emerged from his bathroom with water dripping from his head. He had changed into a tight-fitting white vest. Sally spat onto the sheet and gave a convulsive jerk. Her hands and feet were bound with thick tape.

  ‘You can wriggle all you like, Sal, it won’t do no good.’

  ‘Let me out of here, Lee! What the fuck are you doing?’ Sally screamed.

  ‘You won’t get out of that shit, Sal, and you won’t get out of here.’ Lee looked down at Sally. She lay in the middle of a plastic sheet. ‘This is how I know you’re fucked!’ Lee swung the baseball bat like a pendulum above Sally’s head.

  Sally saw dents and dried blood on the bat’s metal surface. ‘Fuck, Lee. You don’t need to do this. I won’t be talking to no one about nothing, you don’t need to do it.’

  ‘We were coming here to talk, Sal, weren’t we? Then you hit me, Sal. You tried to run away, and that made me wonder why, and who you was going to go running to. I can’t have you just running to anyone, Sal.’

  Sally’s voice was quiet, almost resigned. ‘I just wanted to go home.’

  ‘You don’t have no fucking home. You’re a fucking street rat, that’s all you’ll ever be.’

  ‘I have a home. Please, Lee, let me just go home and you’ll never see me again, I promise.’

  Lee shook his head. ‘Can’t do that, Sal. Can’t do it.’ Lee pointed the bat over to his right.

  Sally saw a roll of plastic splattered with blood, and more had pooled on the floor. Brown hair was sticking out one end. Lizzy’s brown hair.

  ‘Oh, fuck, Lee, what did you do?’

  Lee was excited. His left hand shot out and he grabbed Sally, holding her cheeks and squashing her mouth together. The bat was in his other hand. He moved it slowly across her lips, laughing as she squealed.

  ‘Can you taste the blood, Sal? Can you fucking taste it?’ Lee pushed her face away. He felt behind his back and brought out the knife. ‘You get an option though, Sal. I’m being fair to you, ’cause you and me, we got history, right? So I’m giving you an option.’ Lee dropped the bat. He took the knife in his right hand and with the other he took hold of Sally’s face, pushing at her mouth again. Lee held the knife to her lips, with the flat side of the blade pushing down. He wiped it along her mouth, slowly, his eyes staring into hers.

  ‘Now you can taste it, can’t you, Sal? Lizzy chose the knife, but don’t let that influence you. You gotta be your own person, right?’

  Lee lifted the knife from Sally’s face. She squeezed her eyes shut, and felt the cold metal rest on her cheek, barely touching her skin, as though he was stroking her with it.

  ‘Now the slugger,’ Lee continued, ‘That makes a fucking mess, you know. And it can take a good while. But the knife, that’s quicker and cleaner, and they say that bleeding out, it can be quite a peaceful experience if you get it right. I’ll do my best for you, Sal, I don’t need you to suffer.’ Sally felt the knife move down, over her chin and onto her neck. It stopped with the tip on her windpipe and the blade resting on her sternum.

  ‘Just relax, Sal, and this will all be over.’ The knife moved up under her chin, digging into her neck, the point was at her main artery. Lee put his left hand on Sally’s face. His eyes were level with hers. She wanted to shut them, to look away, but she was mesmerised by his gaze.

  ‘Look at me, Sal. I want to watch you go.’

  Tears ran down the side of Sally’s face. She looked up at the ceiling and thought of home.

  * * *

  Frank hadn’t expected Lee’s door to be ajar. He gave it a tentative push and it swung open a little, enough for him to peer inside. He saw Lee kneeling over the girl, whose ankles were bound with silver gaffer tape. Lee had his back to Frank.

  ‘Lee! What the fuck?’

  Lee spun round. ‘Fuck me, Frank. You don’t know when to fuck off, do you?’

  Frank took a step into the flat, and Lee was up in a flash. He reached out, grabbed at Frank’s jumper, and pulled him further inside. He pushed him into the kitchen area and kicked shut the front door.

  ‘You shoulda stayed away, Frank. ‘Now you gotta be with the girls.’

  Lee moved forward. Frank lashed out with his right fist. It was a lucky shot, and the fist connected with the side of Lee’s face, knocking his head to the side and throwing him off balance. Frank knew his only chance was to go on the offensive, and he swung his fist again. Lee fell to one knee and Frank pushed him hard to the ground. The big man used his weight advantage, he collapsed on top of Lee, trapping his upper body and the arm that held the knife. Lee was neutralised, temporarily at least, but Frank was exhausted and had no idea what to do next.

  * * *

  Martin Young finally got there. He skidded to a stop in the car park of Peto Court. He got out, strode to the rear of the car, and grabbed a stack of traffic cones that he threw out across the car park. Underneath the cones was a red metal enforcer — a twenty kilo steel door ram. Martin struggled to lift it over the boot lip. He took the enforcer in both hands, and walked towards the communal door.

  The enforcer would have no effect on the solid metal-framed security door but luck was on Martin’s side. The caretaker of the building was in his flat on the top floor. He had been watching the comings and goings on his CCTV. He had seen Lee arrive earlier and pull a girl out of his car by her hair. He had seen the distress on her face as Lee had dragged her through the door and up the stairs. He had seen the police officer arrive, and, as the officer approached the communal door he pushed an override button that unlocked all the communal doors. Martin heard the metallic ‘clack’ as he walked up to it and saw the door shiver slightly in the artificial light. He put the enforcer down and pulled the cold metal handle. The door came open.

  He was in.

  * * *

  Frank was losing strength. He was using his weight to keep Lee immobilised, but he knew he couldn’t keep him pinned down forever. Lee was starting to wriggle. He was beginning to free himself. Frank needed to get hold of the knife. He brought his foot down hard on Lee’s forearm to make him drop it. But he’d shifted too much weight off Lee’s legs, and Lee was too much of a street fighter to let him get away with that. It was a fatal error.

  Lee brought his knees up as hard as he could, connecting with the small of Frank’s back. Frank instinctively straightened up and put his hands behind him. Lee freed his arms to land two blows in quick succession and Frank moved off him to get out of their reach.

  Frank shook dizzily and felt for some support. He dragged himself back to the kitchen cupboard and pulled himself to a sitting position, gasping for breath.

 
Lee stood up and waited for Frank to settle. Frank’s arms dropped to the floor, exposing his torso. He squinted up at Lee, who didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and plunged the knife into Frank’s stomach. Frank’s eyes opened wide. He put his hands to the wound.

  Lee moved his head closer to Frank’s. Lee watched the colour drain from Frank’s face, the light in his eyes fade. He pushed the knife in harder. Frank grunted. The agonising pain in his body cleared his vision.

  There was a noise at the door and both men looked up.

  * * *

  The twenty kilo weight of the metal ram was draining Martin’s reserves of strength and he considered abandoning it altogether. He felt his strength returning as he walked along the filthy corridor towards flat 49, amid the hopeless stench of damp and urine. The door to the flat was wooden, opening inward with a single visible lock. Martin was rigid with rage. The man behind this door was responsible for everything that had gone wrong with his daughter’s life. He drew the enforcer back and brought it forward, grunting with the exertion.

  The wood splintered and the door gave way. Martin Young looked at the scene revealed to him. He saw his daughter, bound and lying on the floor, her face, filthy with tracks from her tears and spatters of blood, turning towards the sudden sound. He wanted to drop the enforcer and run to Sally, but as he stepped through the door, a movement caught his eye. Two men were in the kitchen area. The man closest to him was Lee Chivers. Martin recognised him from the pictures he had seen on the police system. Lee stared at him. He was holding a knife which was buried deep in the other man’s stomach. Martin’s grip tightened on the enforcer.

  * * *

  Through the haze and his confusion, Frank saw a police officer. He had been pawing uselessly at Lee’s hands. But the sight of the policeman galvanised him. His big hands fastened on Lee’s wrists. The agonising pain fuelled his determination, he used it, he held on.

  Lee pulled back, trying to free his hands and peering over at the cop. He turned to Frank, and this time Frank stared right back, gripping hard.