Ruby's Palace

by KERRY BARNES

  “Why did you put them in the spare room?” she asked, hoping he knew she wanted to move in permanently.

  He laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry, my babes. You will be sleeping with me, but my wardrobes would collapse with the amount of clothes you have in those cases. I’m gonna build a nice big wardrobe in there and you can use that as a dressing room.”

  She watched in admiration as he pointed to the walls, describing where he would hang a long mirror and build a dressing table under the window and the huge wardrobes, floor to ceiling, across the far wall. Celia loved him even more. Her Kenneth would never have been so thoughtful. She thought about Kenneth, and his selfish ways, and smiled lovingly at Johnnie. He treated her like a princess. He wanted to make her happy and started by offering to cook a special curry, make chocolate covered profiteroles, and finish with a warm Irish coffee. Celia thought she had died and gone to heaven. Her big fella could cook too. There was no end to her future happiness.

  “I need to have a meeting with the boss and then I’ll be home. You make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back shortly.” He gave her a long, loving kiss before he left.

  *

  Dan was sorting out the accounts when Johnnie knocked.

  “So what’s the verdict, Johnnie, me old son?”

  He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, guv, they ain’t dead. Almost, but not quite.”

  “So, that should put the fucking word out. I tell you something, Johnnie. I worked hard for these clubs, I never conned no fucker, and it makes me mad when dirty has-beens, like the Nappers, want a piece of what’s mine.” He shook his head. “I have always been a fair man. I never opened a club on anyone’s doorstep. I made sure I catered for a different customer, for fuck’s sake. As if my punters would have gone to his shit-pit anyway. They took a right fucking liberty!”

  “I don’t wanna tell you how to run your own business, but it’s my guess that the Nappers were planning more than underage pole dancing. Let’s be honest, they wouldn’t close you down for that alone, would they?”

  Dan frowned. “I think, mate, that was just the start of it. See, they weren’t man enough to pay me a visit, ‘ave a chat. I would have told them where they were going wrong, even offered to help, but no, the sly cunts resorted to underhand dealings. Well, they cocked up big time. Let’s hope that’s the end of it.”

  “Yeah, well, I was gonna suggest that the boys do pat-down searches. Men only, of course,” said Johnnie, stretching his neck, wary of speaking freely.

  “You’re Head of Security, mate, you call that one, but I think you’re right. The Ol’ Bill would shut this gaff if they found firearms. It’s what finished off the Nappers.”

  Dan gave him a cheeky grin and handed him a packet.

  “What’s this?” he frowned.

  “Five grand.”

  “Why?” asked Johnnie.

  “It’s about time I looked after those who look after me. You and ya brother have worked with me for fucking years now, and I can trust you, so it’s a little Christmas bonus.”

  Johnnie couldn’t believe his luck. His bird moving in, a five grand bonus, and his boss telling him he trusted him.

  Chapter Nine

  Kenneth and Nigel spent a week in the hospital, Ken with concussion and Nigel in a neck brace. Once they were well enough, they had to answer questions put to them by the police. This was just a formality. They fell through the garage roof and sustained their injuries that way.

  When Kenneth returned to an empty house, the blood was gone. There was not even a pink stain. He called for his wife, but he knew in his heart she’d already left. She should have been up the hospital every day as a dutiful wife or, at least, answered one of the hundred calls he made to the house. It wasn’t the terrifying picture of the crow bar coming towards him which gave him nightmares, but the vision of Celia’s expression as she lied to him. She knew his attack was planned. The weeks lying sick in a hospital bed left him with nothing to do except think. He concluded who was on the other end of the phone and they would pay with their life.

  Grant Smith had been a thug most of his adult life and was now bang in trouble. He owed dealers money left, right and centre, and if he wasn’t careful he was going to get a shooter put in his back. In his desperate need to make a load of cash, he bought a dodgy bag of cocaine, heavily cut with lactose, and sold it to the local Rasta by the name of Neville. Grant was handed fifteen grand – a good start to paying off his debts. Neville sold it on to the Yardies. But the deal went sour due to the lack of coke in the lump. Neville went searching for Grant and his so-called friends, especially all their regular haunts, and put the word out he was after him – offering a tasty reward.

  Kenneth, who was lying in his hospital bed, got wind of Grant’s predicament and offered to help solve his problems, but for one small favour.

  Johnnie, in his element, booked a three week Caribbean cruise for Celia and himself. He held the tickets in his hand and marched towards his flat with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Celia sat with her feet up, sipping a cup of tea whilst watching Richard and Judy. She was excited that they were off on holiday. She had never been to anywhere exotic before, only the Costa del Sol with Kenneth. Now, she was going to have the time of her life with the man she truly loved.

  The air was chilly and as usual Johnnie threw on his big Crombie as he walked back to his beloved Celia. He was a smart-looking man, in his trademark suit and Italian leather shoes. He was known in the community because he was a Face and built like a brick shit-house. When he walked along the road, everyone noticed.

  Johnnie saw a car pull up with blacked-out windows. He tried to see who was driving. But all he saw was the end of a gun as the bullet hit him clean through the chest. Before anyone could take a number plate, the car drove off. The incident happened outside the betting shop and two men, who heard the tyres screeching, ran outside to see what the commotion was all about. They knew Johnnie, and tried to help him, but he lay there with half the contents of his insides exposed. Terry, the shop manager, went as white as a sheet and threw up. The rest of the punters came for a gawp before the paramedics moved them on. No way could he be saved. The police arrived and taped off the area. He was still clutching the holiday tickets as the blood poured away from his body and down the drain.

  As the day went on, Celia assumed he had gone to work. She couldn’t even call him on his mobile because he had left it at home. The evening was long and she paced the floor. As the digital clock flashed four thirty a.m. her mood turned to anger. She could not believe he was just another Kenneth – out all hours, shagging other women. After calming herself with a brandy, she got dressed, wrapped herself up in a fur coat, slipped her feet into a pair of red stilettos, and marched off up to the club. She was unsure what she would do when she arrived there, but she couldn’t stand and stare out of the window any longer.

  Outside, the cold air hit her and she contemplated going back inside. A taxi was passing and she hailed it down.

  “Dan’s Palace, please!”

  The driver looked her up and down and then said, “Darling, the club closed hours ago!”

  “Errm… don’t matter, take me there anyway.”

  He was right. The club appeared to be in darkness, even the offices upstairs, but she thought she could just make out a light on.

  She banged on the dense door, but the noise dissipated into nothing. Michael, another doorman, who worked with Johnnie but wasn’t a close friend, appeared from the side. He looked Celia up and down and half smiled with a sad expression.

  “I’m sorry, love, we are closed now. Club shuts at two o’clock.” He spoke politely. She wasn’t an old brass touting for business.

  “I was looking for Johnnie Lee. He is a doorman here!”

  Michael’s eyes widened. He had no idea who she was but it was obvious she didn’t know that Johnnie had been shot and now lay on a slab at the mortuary.

  He put an arm around her shoulder and walked her sile
ntly inside the club.

  Celia guessed then, by the sadness in his eyes, that something terrible had occurred.

  “Where’s my Johnnie?” There was a lump in her throat and her mind raced. She thought he had been in an accident, maybe aggro in the club, or worse.

  “Mr Vincent’s in his office. Let’s go in there, shall we?” His voice was gentle. They climbed the stairs together and by the time they reached the top Celia shook all over and her legs felt as though they would give way.

  Michael opened the door for her to walk in. The room was filled with blue smoke and men, some seated, some standing, all smartly dressed. Dan sat at his desk, his tie undone and his sleeves rolled up; Sam stared out of the window, still in his suit, and Fred was talking to two of the bouncers. Dan looked at Celia and guessed immediately who she was. He stood up and walked over to her. “Come in, my love. Here, sit down. I can’t tell you how sorry I am!” He had been crying and she could see that.

  Celia’s heart was in her mouth and, in a blind panic, she shouted, “What’s happened to my Johnnie?”

  Dan had assumed she knew. “Oh, my God, has no one told you?” He was horrified.

  “Fred, get…”

  “It’s Celia,” she said harshly.

  “Yes, I know, babe. Get Celia a drink.” He took a deep breath. The room fell silent as they watched Dan hand Celia the news. The scream could be heard in the next street and she crumpled in her chair. Joe, the best person to deal with this situation, went to her side, and with a big meaty arm he held her.

  Dan waited for her to collect herself before he spoke. “He was a good man and I will make it my business to find the person responsible for his death and make sure they will never live to tell the tale.”

  Instantly, Celia responded. “It was my husband!”

  “Are you sure, babe?” Dan replied, aware she was married to Kenneth Napper.

  She nodded. “Yes, I am dead sure. I should never have left him. I should have kept things as they were, then my Johnnie would still be here,” she sobbed.

  There was a silence as the men in the room gathered their thoughts.

  Celia knocked back the brandy and the fuzzy feeling went. She could now focus. From the clear description he had given her, Dan was just how Johnnie had described him. As for the others, she could have named them all. He had spoken about them with real affection, as if they were family, and right now, with him dead, she was glad to be in their company.

  After an hour or so the doormen left and the Vincents gathered around.

  “Celia, he adored you, and so I need to know what you want us to do,” said Dan, who held his hands together as if he was about to pray.

  Fred was fidgeting again.

  “I say we take him out and be done with him!”

  “Shut up, Fred, this is Celia’s call. He was her bloke and Ken is her husband.”

  Fred had never been told to shut up before, but then again Dan was close to Johnnie. They had worked together for years.

  “Sorry, love, he is right, what do you want us to do?” asked Fred.

  Celia looked around the room to see the brothers staring at her. Their eyes all the same, they were, as Johnnie had said, babe magnets.

  “I loved Johnnie more than life itself. He was a good man, and he was good to me. All we wanted was a bit of happiness in our own little way and Kenneth has taken it away from me. He made me miserable when I was with him, and he has made me devastated now I’m not.” She took a deep breath.

  “I have no children. I have no future now, so leave Kenneth to me. I'm gonna take care of him. Even if it means I spend the rest of my life inside, it will be worth it.”

  The men looked on in amazement. There sat this tiny-framed, middle-aged woman with a sixties beehive, looking like the church flower arranger, dressed in a black fur coat and red shoes, ready to knock off Kenneth Napper.

  Dan reached for her hand across the table.

  “You need not get your hands dirty. Give us the okay, and he will be dead and cemented under the new M20 bridge!”

  “No, I know what I’m doing, Mr Vincent. I’ve fucking been planning it for the last fifteen years, I just didn’t know it. I know Kenneth didn’t shoot him, so he must have paid someone. So, you take care of the low life that shot him. I’ll deal with Kenneth. It will be my pleasure.”

  Fred chuckled but the rest stayed quiet.

  Dan drove Celia back to Johnnie’s flat to let her grieve in peace. He offered to help with the arrangements. He would pay all the costs of the funeral and the insurance money would go to her.

  Fred and Sam remained behind, waiting for his return to plan their next move.

  “I don't know, Sam, there’s something more to all this. First, we’ve got the fucking pikeys, trying to close us down, then we have the Nappers on the rampage, blowing away the doorman. What’s gonna happen next?”

  Sam nodded in agreement. “And Jack reckons it’s quiet down the gyms. The travellers have kept away.”

  Fred bit the inside of his lip. “We had better be one step ahead of them all. Sam, do yourself a favour. Make sure when Jack goes training, he takes one of the boys as security. That Michael’s a big fella, he likes to train, he can go with him.”

  Sam frowned. “Fucking ‘ell, Fred, do you really think things will get that bad?”

  Fred paused. “Sam, I don’t know. It might all be nothing and just blow over, especially when the Nappers are out of the picture, but I feel uneasy so it’s best we watch Jack’s back.”

  Sam nodded furiously. “Yeah, for sure.”

  Dan pulled up outside Johnnie’s flat and offered to go inside with Celia, just in case.

  “I’ll be fine, Mr Vincent,” she whispered.

  “Please, call me Dan.”

  She nodded.

  “Look, Celia, you said you will sort your husband but it won’t be necessary. I’ll have him dealt with. You won’t need to worry.”

  Celia looked up at the flat in darkness and a lump lodged in her throat. Her man, who had brought so much joy in her life, was gone, and that darkness was to be a permanent fixture in her future. But, right now, she had no future, no real friends, and no children.

  “No, love, I need to do this,” she replied, still staring at the dark windows.

  Dan turned sideways in his car seat to face her. “Celia, how do you plan to do this?” he asked, intrigued by her calm and determined manner.

  She unexpectedly laughed out loud.

  “Do you know what, Dan? For fucking years, before I met Johnnie, I used to collect bees, hold them in a jam jar under the sink, and Kenneth would say, ‘Why are you keeping those killers?’ and I’d reply, ‘So they don’t sting you…’” She laughed again. “I didn’t have the nerve back then.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about.

  “One sting from a bee, just one, would kill Kenneth, if he didn’t have that special injection pen.”

  Dan smiled. “Wrong time of the year, though, for bees…”

  Celia slowly turned to face him. “And that’s a fucking shame. If I could get my hands on a bee, I would ram it down his throat. I’d watch his tongue swell up, his throat constrict and his body convulse, until his ugly eyes popped out of their sockets.”

  Dan believed then she had been planning his death for many years.

  As she sat in the quiet darkness, she prayed for Johnnie’s safe-passing into the gates of heaven. The bed was cold, but his smell, still lingering on the pillow, gave her comfort. She wasn’t sure if she had slept at all. She was so racked with grief her mind entered a dream state to escape reality. As the sun came up, she climbed out of bed, with every muscle in her body aching and the lump in her throat still there. She stared in the mirror at her eyes, swollen from the endless crying.

  Her hatred for her husband increased by the minute. The only thing that kept her sane was devising the plan to kill him.

  She had to take it seriously and do away with the bastard once and for all. The
years of keeping a jar of bees in amongst the cleaning products under the sink was her way of having one over on her husband. If he clumped or humiliated her she’d hold the jar and grin. However, she had never taken it further than just a fantasy.

  The house keys were still in her bag. The serious injuries which Kenneth had sustained still wouldn’t be healed by now. Broken ribs, fingers, leg, and those deep lacerations, meant at least six weeks before he was up and about, without taking into account his age.

  She hadn’t contacted her sister since the day she left and didn’t want to. The weeks spent away had given her time to reflect on her life. Maureen had been a good sister in that she was female company to talk to but, as for real problems – such as her own husband bashing her – Maureen didn’t want to know because it upset her perfect, naive little life. Their lifestyle was the same. Maureen enjoyed it, happy with her four bedroom detached house with the swimming pool and the villa in Spain, because her husband wasn’t so handy with his fists. As long as she had company for her trips to the pub, the odd meal and the holidays on the Costa del Sol, she didn’t care if Celia was black and blue and totally miserable.

  *

  Celia drove Johnnie’s car and parked it up the road from her house. She sat for the whole day, monitoring who came and went. Maureen arrived with a casserole dish and then along came the district nurse. Celia clocked the routine.

  She was still there at midnight, just waiting. The ground floor lights were off, with only the bedroom light on. That was a first – Kenneth in bed before two a.m. She carefully turned the key, so as not to make a noise. Luckily, he hadn’t thought to change the locks. The kitchen looked a mess. Maureen was a sloppy bitch but she didn’t care; it wasn’t her home anyway. She heard him snoring so loudly. Her Johnnie never snored. As she climbed the stairs, aware of every creaking floorboard, she smiled. The irritating grunting sound told her he was still asleep. The bedroom door was open and she could make out his silhouette from the moon that shone in through the bay window. He lay on his back with his mouth wide open. She almost laughed. He was such an ugly bastard.