by JJ Franklin
Vinny finished his third coffee, his foot tapping with impatience. This was bloody stupid – the longer he sat here, the more chance someone would recognise him. Maybe he’d been wrong to trust Ops. Then again, he’d been bloody brilliant in getting him away when the heat was on. He decided to give him another five minutes and spent the time planning what he intended to do to the bastard who’d murdered his son.
As Vinny contemplated ordering yet another cup of coffee, he became aware of car lights flashing on and off outside. He wiped a space on the steamed-up windows with his sleeve and peered through. Still not able to see clearly, he went outside to investigate and recognised Dan, Ops’s half-witted runner. Trust the idiot to bring unnecessary attention to himself. Vinny hurried over to him. ‘Stop doing that, you bloody fool. Do you want everyone to notice us?’
‘Thought it was the best thing to do.’
‘Well it isn’t.’ Vinny sighed as he opened the passenger door. ‘You took your own sweet time, didn’t you?’ he complained, turning off the radio.
‘As instructed. Ops said to use an old car and drive carefully – no going over the speed limits, do nothing to attract attention. That’s what he said.’
‘Meanwhile, I’m stuck here for the entire pissing world to see.’
‘Ain’t my fault. Don’t draw attention to yourself, that’s what Ops said.’
‘Bugger Ops. Always was too cautious. You’d think he was up against MI5.’ The warmth of the car soon soothed Vinny and reminded him how hungry he was. ‘Got anything to eat?’
‘Half a sandwich back there. Oh, and there’s some chocolate in the glove compartment.’
Vinny didn’t fancy anything that had been near Dan’s mouth, so opted for the chocolate, allowing the sweet, smooth taste to comfort and re-energise him. There was a lot to do if he was to avenge Jon. He’d start with Harry. One of Jon’s pals since infant school, he should have some idea who Jon was hanging about with, and who might want to harm him.
He’d made sure his lad could stand up for himself. God knows it hadn’t been easy with his useless mother trying to turn him into a nancy boy. He might even pay dear Mary a visit, but he was sure the police would be keeping an eye on the house. Not that she would know anything; if she’d anything about her, his lad wouldn’t be dead. In Vinny’s eyes, Mary had a lot to answer for.
Dan took the M3, then the A34 and soon they were heading towards Newbury. Vinny could feel his eyes starting to shut and when he woke he didn’t recognise anything. Aching for a pint, he looked longingly at the lighted windows of the pubs, but with the evening trade in full swing, he resisted making Dan stop. He probably had orders from Ops not to anyway. Although, if he’d a mind to, it would be easy to bully the pompous twerp into doing whatever he wanted. Still, he reasoned it would be best to reach his hideaway before he started throwing his weight around. Wherever it was, there’d better be a fridge full of beer waiting.
Vinny sat back enjoying the warmth and allowed Dan’s careful driving to take them towards the M40.
Chapter 10
The first one had been easy. Or should that be the second? Then, Kathy reasoned, Ken’s death was a mercy killing, so maybe didn’t count. He had been on the long and painful road to death and all he wanted to do was to get on with it.
Ken had unknowingly given Kathy the means to avenge her son.
Kathy had been going to sit with Ken to give her elderly friend, Maisie, a bit of a break. Maisie wasn’t well herself so it gave her time to have a bath and a peaceful cup of tea. A month ago, Kathy had been sitting beside the bed, half listening to the sound of the radio from the kitchen below. She thought Ken was sleeping, exhausted after the nurse’s visit, when he reached out to grasp her wrist with his white, veined hand.
‘Kathy,’ he whispered, his voice dry and cracked. Pausing to fill his tired lungs, he continued. ‘Make it go away. Please…’ his voice tapered off.
Why had he chosen her? Could he see the murderous blackness building inside?
Ken’s hand tightened on her arm. He pointed his other hand to the neat tray of medicines that stood on the corner of the dressing table. Kathy had collected the prescription for Maisie the previous day, so several ampoules of diamorphine stood ready. Ken had a strict routine of doses and the next wasn’t due for hours. Kathy shook her head and stood, hoping to make Ken more comfortable. With her free hand, she tried to offer him a sip of water. He moved his mouth away, lips closed tight.
‘I can’t give you your medicine yet, Ken. It isn’t time. Shall I call Maisie?’ The grip on her wrist tightened until it hurt.
‘Please…please.’
Everyone should have a peaceful death, not the horrendous ones Jack and Bill had suffered, she thought. What difference would it make if Ken went a few days early? Maisie had accepted he was going to die and Kathy would be there to support her. Kathy nodded and Ken released her wrist. It had taken all his strength to cling on and from his white face, Kathy wondered if her efforts might still be needed.
Moving towards the medicine tray, she glanced back at Ken. He watched as she picked up one of the ampoules. She couldn’t inject it like the nurse, so snapped the top and tipped the powder into one of the tiny medicine cups. As she stood wondering if she should add a little water, Ken’s rasping voice made her jump.
‘Whisky,’ he said, pointing to the bottle beside the bed from which he had a small tot at bedtime.
Taking the cup over to the bed, she poured in some of the whisky, watching as the powder dissolved. When Kathy held the cup to his lips, his mouth opened eagerly as if it were communion wine. A little dribbled down the side of his mouth but he managed most of it and lay back exhausted.
Hearing Maisie coming up the stairs, she wiped Ken’s mouth and put the cup into her handbag. She should be with him at the end. He would want that.
‘How is he?’
‘Sleeping like a baby. Come and sit down.’ Kathy patted his hand in goodbye and moved back to the medicine tray to retrieve the broken ampoule and slip it into her pocket.
Maisie sank down in the chair and took Ken’s hand. His face relaxed and Kathy saw a glimpse of the old Ken.
‘I’ve left out some of Mrs May’s wonderful fruit cake. You will have a cup of tea before you go, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I’ll be here for a while.’
Picking something up in her face, Maisie turned back to Ken. ‘You think…?’
Kathy moved back beside the bed. ‘Well, he does seem so peaceful.’
Half an hour later, Ken gave a big sigh and died. Maisie gave a matching sigh and rose to kiss him.
After calling the doctor and making Maisie a cup of tea, Kathy spent her time tidying the bedroom. Coming to the medicine tray, she asked Maisie if she would like her to get rid of everything and she nodded.
Now she had the means as well as the motive and Kathy was certain she could create an opportunity.
Chapter 11
Waking from another doze, Vinny noticed that Dan took the slip road sign posted Warwick before going round the island to take the A46 bypass towards Coventry. At least he was on home territory. After a short distance, Dan turned off onto the A4189 heading away from Warwick.
Peering through the pitch black, Vinny forced his eyes to stay open. It was important to know his bearings. A few miles further on, they passed through the village of Claverdon where the windows of the cottages shone out across the ice, offering warmth and comfort. Vinny watched them slide by with envy.
Reaching Henley-in-Arden, they turned left, onto the A34 to Stratford and were soon passing through Wootton Wawen. To Vinny, it seemed they were going in circles. Then, just outside Wootton Wawen, Dan turned left into the car park of the Navigation Inn. Vinny sat up in anticipation of staying in a pub.
Dan drove through the car park into the dark beyond the pub. Bumping off the tarmac, Vinny
could make out the icy branches of the trees ahead and to his left, up a bank, a glimpse of narrowboats, silent and dark, grouped together like a pack of monsters waiting to attack. Deciding he was getting fanciful, Vinny gave himself a shake.
‘Is this it then? Where’s the house? I’m parched.’ Vinny opened the car door.
‘Stay where you are…please. I’ll just check.’ Dan got out of the car and disappeared into the dark.
Vinny itched to remind Dan just who was the boss. If he wanted to, he could smash the little shit’s face into the dashboard. But he reminded himself that Dan was only following orders and didn’t have the brainpower or the courage to think outside of them. Gazing over the frozen ground, he wondered what the hell they were doing here and hoped he wouldn’t have to sit here for long. All he wanted was a cold beer and a warm bed.
Dan returned to the car and leaned in. ‘We can go now.’
‘About time.’ Vinny got out of the car, already tasting his first English pint in four years. He turned away from the water, intent on going to the pub, but Dan called him back.
‘This way,’ Dan hissed.
Vinny couldn’t believe what was happening. Dan was halfway up the slope to the canal.
‘What the hell?’
‘Come on. Come on.’
This better be worth putting off that pint, Vinny thought, as he altered his course to follow.
Dan led him past the narrowboats, coming to a stop at the smallest, moored alone at the end of the line. As they got nearer, Vinny could just make out the name, Daisy Lou, embellished with flowers, mostly daisies.
Dan stopped and ushered him aboard. Horrified, Vinny held back. He’d hated boats since a stag do on the Isle of Man. Coming back on the ferry, he’d been as sick as a dog. Dismissing the idea that it was anything to do with the amount of beer consumed, he’d made up his mind to avoid boats ever since. The ferry from France had been bad enough, but this rickety tub was a step too far.
Glancing right and left, Dan gave an impatient wave of his hand to hurry him along. Vinny took a reluctant step onto the frosty deck. To his right was a small door with yet more daisies. He assumed it led down into the cabin.
‘Come in.’
He recognised Ops’s voice and made his way down the narrow stairs. Ops sat at the small table. He nodded as Vinny banged his head on the deck head and stumbled into the tiny room, waiting until he recovered before indicating the seat opposite him.
‘Place must be made for midgets,’ Vinny cursed as he sat down.
‘And certainly not a place the police will think of looking for a large, clumsy man such as yourself.’
It took a moment for the facts to fall into place. Ops expected him to stay here! It would be like living in a coffin. He’d been looking forward to some comfort.
He stared at the man. Ops always reminded Vinny of a cross between an undertaker and a solicitor and he couldn’t remember him displaying any emotion. In fact, he didn’t seem human at all. It was hard to tell his age, but he guessed between forty and fifty. When they’d met in prison ten years ago, Vinny, thinking this fish out of water might be useful, offered him protection.
Ops’s bald head appeared pink and polished and his gold-rimmed glasses enlarged his grey eyes so that they seemed able to stare right through you. Vinny thought Ops might have a Welsh background, for there was a certain lilt in his voice.
‘My sincere condolences on the loss of your son.’
Vinny nodded to acknowledge the reference to Jon, while thinking how to tackle this unexpected turn of events. Before he could marshal his thoughts, Ops spoke again.
‘They will never find you here.’
‘You expect me to stay here?’
Ops raised his eyebrows in surprise that his decision was up for questioning. ‘Yes, I do.’
Those grey eyes focused on him and for a moment Vinny wondered if it might be best to go it alone, to tell Ops just what he could do with his disgusting idea. Yet he knew he was lucky to have Ops to sort out all the practical details. With his help, he would stay safe until he was able to take his revenge. That had to be his focus. So what if he was uncomfortable for a few days? It didn’t matter as long as he got his hands on Jonathan’s killer.
‘Keep below the radar and you won’t be noticed. Here is a mobile phone with my number in. Use each SIM card just once. I’ve left you an endless supply. Dan has stocked the fridge with food and drink and he will replenish it as needed.’
Vinny looked around, trying to see where a cabin this small could fit a fridge. Ops pointed to what looked like a cupboard next to the teacup of a sink. Vinny reached across, opened it, and was heartened to find it stacked with beers.
‘That’s so you don’t feel the need to indulge yourself at the local hostelry. You are not to go anywhere, and I mean anywhere, without my permission. Do you understand?’
‘Might be difficult. You know what I’ve got to do?’
‘Full well.’
‘Something might come up where I’ve got to move fast.’
Ops gave a sigh and spoke as if he were addressing a child. ‘That is what the phone is for. You ring me. I will sort out the safest way for you to approach any situation that might arise.’
‘So I just sit here, twiddling my thumbs? I’ll go mad, stuck here in this shit hole.’
‘You have all the comforts of home – food, warmth and drink, not to mention television. I know it is not your luxury villa in Spain, but neither is it permanent, just convenient to keep you safely hidden while we move forward on your agenda. I can’t see the problem.’
Vinny clenched his fists, letting his fingernails cut into his flesh. He couldn’t afford to use brute force on Ops as he was the one man who could keep him out of jail long enough to do what was needed.
‘If you want, Dan can stay with you for company. In fact, that would be a good idea. He has been through everything about the running of the boat with the owner, so would be invaluable.’
Company, Vinny thought, more like a spy. The little rat would report everything back to Ops. He wouldn’t even be able to have a shit without Ops knowing. ‘No. I mean there’s no room. We’d be falling over each other.’
‘Not to worry, Dan will fit in anywhere. I’ll have a word with him.’ Ops rose to leave.
Knowing it was his last word on the matter, Vinny resigned himself. Given time, he was sure he could make the little weed, Dan, do whatever he wanted. He’d enough experience in prison in moulding men to do his bidding, so one snivelling little runt should be easy. He stood to thank Ops, intending to walk up on deck with him, but hit his head again. Ops waved him to stay inside and went up to the deck, where Dan was waiting to help him onto dry land.
Vinny could hear their murmured voices and moved around the small table to look out of the window. He was pleased to see Dan not looking too happy at the prospect of bunking in with him. That was another thing – where could you sleep in this thing? He’d better grab the best bunk. He turned to move down the narrow aisle, pausing to open a door to the bathroom, complete with shower. To Vinny, it looked like it belonged in a doll’s house. Moving on, he came to a bedroom where a double bed took up most of the room. Above and around the bed were loads of cupboards. He tried the bed and found it comfortable, although the thought of sharing it with Dan made him feel sick.
Just then, he heard Dan’s voice. ‘Just going to pick up my things. You want anything?’
‘More beer. And fish and chips, if there’s anywhere still open. I’ve been longing for some decent ones,’ he said, moving back into the main cabin. Dan gave a thumbs up and disappeared. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Dan could wait on him and fetch anything he wanted. He resolved to make the best of it and set about investigating every cupboard. Finding the television he turned it on and taking a beer from the fridge, settled down to watch.
H
e had to admit, Ops was bloody brilliant. While the police were busy looking for him on the roads, he could be quietly chugging along the waterways. That’s if this tub kept afloat.
Chapter 12
Matt eased himself out of the sofa bed, trying not to wake Eppie, who had tossed and turned all night. The added complication of her mother was the last thing she needed today, as she was organising her first conference and he knew she was anxious it went well. Not that he had slept much. The sofa bed was too small for his six-foot length and his feet stuck out of the end to freeze.
Marvelling at the skill of Angela in getting her own way, he began to get ready for work. She’d never intended to sleep on the sofa bed, and while Eppie prepared her a snack the previous night, she asked if she might have a shower. The fatal mistake was saying she might change in their bedroom. Angela wheeled first one and then another suitcase into the bedroom and by then it was too late; Angela had asserted squatters’ rights.
At the office, Matt snatched a few peaceful minutes to catch up with the information arriving on his desk. Slim’s preliminary report added nothing to that already relayed verbally. There was little time to read on, as the rest of the team had started to arrive and it was time for the briefing.
‘Good work, everyone. Now although we wanted something to occupy us, let’s not have this hanging over us for Christmas. We need to work hard now, otherwise we’ll be eating bacon butties instead of turkey for Christmas dinner. Personally, I want to spend Christmas with my wife.’ This brought a few whistles and catcalls. Matt laughed, hoping the message hit home as he nodded to Sam to carry on.
‘We now have more information about the gang who kicked Jack Wylde to death. Tom Grace went back into custody a couple of months ago for assaulting a man outside a pub in Leamington. Apparently, a general fracas broke out while Tom and his mates were drinking one Saturday night. After the general melee, Tom ran after one of the opposing crew and attacked him with a broken bottle. Seems like he hasn’t changed at all, guv.’
