by Paul Gitsham
Now they needed Vinny and his millions. But his last, desperate plan hatched years ago as he’d faced his death in prison was unexpectedly coming to fruition. Now Vinny Delmarno wanted his life back and with that he also wanted his wife.
“We should kill him.”
It had hurt him to say it. It had hurt him even more when Jocelyn had said no. Without Vinny’s millions, she had argued, they’d go bankrupt and he’d never give them to her unless they married again. But that hadn’t been the real reason. She didn’t love Vinny the way she loved Bixby—he was sure of that—but she still loved him. He was the father of her child.
Bixby snorted at the thought. Filipo had been five years old when his father had gone to prison. He’d met him twice a year at most until he’d turned eighteen and gone to university. Now he worked abroad and he’d only been back twice in the more-than eighteen months since his father had been released. He tried to time his phone calls to his mother for when he knew his father would be out.
The day before Vinny had been released, Jocelyn had raced around the house hiding the “family photographs” of Jocelyn, Filipo and Bixby. That had hurt the most, he’d found. As if to compensate, the mantelpiece in the flat he now rented on the other side of town was covered in those same photographs: first holy communion, birthdays, and graduations—“Uncle” Martin was the one with his arm around the boy. Unlike Vinny, Bixby spoke to Filipo every couple of weeks and had even spent a few days walking with him in the Swiss Alps the previous summer. Vinny didn’t even have a passport.
“Then we should wait until he’s signed over the money and then kill him.”
Jocelyn had been unable to counter that argument and had changed the subject. They hadn’t spoken of it again. But now things were coming to a head.
The wedding was days away. The moment that they became man and wife, Vinny would want her killed—and if Bixby didn’t do it, he’d find someone else who would. The moment they were married, Vinny would arrange for his shell investment company to infuse the money they so desperately needed into their company. And it would be time to get rid of him, whether Jocelyn agreed or not.
Chapter 43
Warren’s elation at finding the thread that linked Vinny Delmarno to so many killings was short-lived.
“We have no evidence.” Once again Tony Sutton was the voice of reason.
Warren sighed, allowing his brief pleasure to evaporate under the weight of reality.
“I’m also struggling to find a coherent motive here.”
Sutton had thought to bring along some pens and blank sheets of paper, which Warren pulled over. He wrote the names of all of Delmarno’s victims in a list with spaces between them.
“Let’s look at the way they were killed and the timings. For example, my father. That makes sense from a revenge point of view. It’s also immediate. But what about these others?”
“Well Anton Liebig was the coroner who declared that death a suicide, alongside that dodgy pathologist.”
“But why wait all those years to kill him? And why give him membership of the golf club that you own?”
“An insurance policy? A tame coroner would be bloody useful to someone in Delmarno’s line of work I’d have thought. And you’ve seen that club. There’s no way Liebig could have afforded the green fees. So rather than bribe him directly with cash, which is traceable, they just gave him a free membership.”
Warren was unconvinced. “I get the whole membership thing. It makes a lot of sense, but Delmarno was already in prison by this point. His little empire was being wound up. I doubt he’d have had much use for a coroner. Surely he was a loose end who needed to be killed off? Why wait for so long?”
“Well presumably his wife ran the golf club whilst he was in prison. Maybe she didn’t know who Liebig was.”
“But wasn’t that sidekick of his, Martin Bixby, still on the scene? Couldn’t he have dealt with him?”
The two men lapsed into silence for a few minutes, before Warren suggested that they move on. “What about Sheehy? Is that revenge again?”
Sutton looked troubled. “Again, why wait so long? Your father was killed back in the eighties—why wait nearly a quarter of a century to do something about Gavin? And why go to such elaborate lengths? Especially when he was quite happy to have Reggie Williamson stabbed to death on Middlesbury Common.”
“Well Sheehy claimed it was because he was too junior to have been on his radar at the time.”
“So what changed? If he wasn’t visible back then, surely he’d have completely faded into obscurity by now?”
“Well he found Reggie Williamson again.”
Sutton was thoughtful. “Did he? Are we sure that Vinny Delmarno found him?”
Warren paused. “What are you suggesting, Tony? That Delmarno didn’t have Williamson killed?”
“Well somebody had to know who he was. But what are the odds that Vinny Delmarno would think to track down his old gardener years later and blame him for that handgun finding its way into the police’s hands?”
“Pete Kent or Gavin Sheehy.”
“Exactly. Or maybe even the two of them. Try this for size. Vinny Delmarno is released from prison—unexpectedly, remember; everyone thought he would die in there—and he’s shouting about revenge. Kent and Sheehy are terrified that he’s going to find out about their role in his downfall. There’s one loose end that needs to be tied up and that’s Reggie Williamson.”
“So why did Pete Kent try to kill Sheehy?”
“Well you know what they say about two people keeping a secret.”
“It’s only possible if one of them is dead.”
“Precisely.” Sutton sat back with his arms folded.
“So what about the whole bribery thing and Sheehy passing information to Billy Obsanjo?”
Sutton’s face fell. “Coincidence?”
“And who killed Pete Kent?”
Sutton glared at the table. “Shit.”
Chapter 44
Jocelyn Delmarno was scared: scared for herself, scared for Bixby and scared for her husband. Vinny knew about her and Martin—or at least he would figure it out soon enough. Martin’s phone call had been uncharacteristically frantic, insisting that they meet up immediately. Vinny had seen her and Bixby that afternoon and called his right-hand man for help. The description of Martin’s BMW had only been partial and he was certain that Vinny had yet to connect the car to him—he’d only owned the vehicle six months and as far as he could recall had never driven Vinny in it. Nonetheless, he would keep the car in the garage and use one of Vinny’s fleet of Jaguars.
Using Vinny’s Jags was more than an inconvenience for Bixby, she knew—he felt like he’d taken a step backward. Despite the change in circumstances over the past twenty-odd years, Delmarno still saw Bixby as his employee, little more than hired muscle. He had no idea that Bixby and Jocelyn had become equal partners—in deed if not in name—over the past decades. That suited the couple just fine. As far as Vinny was concerned Bixby had simply looked after Jocelyn and his son, keeping them safe from both physical and legal harm. To do this, he had remained in the background, apparently nothing more than a driver, bodyguard and trusted help. Few knew that it was Bixby who had severed the connections between Jocelyn and Delmarno’s murky past, ensuring that she remained free to start a new life. Even fewer knew that for the past decade, Bixby had been as involved in the day-to-day running of the businesses as Jocelyn.
The return to his former status had chafed at Bixby even more than he had thought it would and giving up his beloved BMW, bought with the fruits of his own hard labour, rubbed salt in the wound. Lying in bed, he and Jocelyn would discuss how they would return to the life that they had enjoyed for so many years. Vinny had wanted to remarry Jocelyn immediately upon his exit from prison, but she had demurred. Such a move would doubtless attract unwanted attention and so she convinced him to wait a while before holding a discreet ceremony in front of a few close family members and friends.
Delmarno had been reluctant, but in the end he had conceded that it was for the best. Bixby had hidden it well, but Jocelyn had known he had been heartbroken. The small flat that he had moved to was soulless. Aside from his treasured photographs, most of his possessions were still in boxes over a year later as if he regarded the move as nothing more than a temporary situation.
Jocelyn splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirrored medicine cabinet in the en-suite bathroom. What was she going to do? Running was the sensible course of action and Martin had begged her to do just that—to leave everything and just elope with him.
But she couldn’t do it. Jocelyn had carved a new life out for herself and it was a life that she was proud of. For two decades she had run those companies and—present difficulties aside—she had made a damn good job of it. Vinny referred to them as his companies, as if she had merely been a caretaker in his absence. But to all intents and purposes they were hers. She’d nurtured them and grown them, increasing profits and taking on new challenges. And if anyone could claim an equal stake in their success, it was Martin.
But all that was hanging in the balance now. The simple fact was that she was days away from bankruptcy. Next month’s wages and suppliers’ invoices totalled far more than they had in the bank. Like it or not, she needed Vinny’s money. Calling off the wedding or running away would be tantamount to signing the death warrant for her businesses and she couldn’t do that.
Which made Martin’s suggestion that they wait until after Vinny had signed the money over before killing him sound increasingly sensible. They could pay off their debts, then resume their former life. After all, they’d spent twenty years living as if Vinny was never going to leave prison, waiting for him to die—that was almost the same, in intention if not in deed, surely? But she couldn’t do it.
The whole point of the past few years had been to move on from that sort of life. It had taken her years to realise it, but she now relished no longer having to look over her shoulder all of the time, wondering if the car that had just driven by unusually slowly was a police surveillance vehicle or was driven by a killer employed by one of Vinny’s rivals. After the IRA bombing campaign of the early 1980s, Vinny had become briefly obsessed with the idea that one of his rivals might use a car bomb to take him out and had insisted that Bixby check under his and Jocelyn’s cars with a mirror on a stick. The end of living with that constant fear and paranoia had been the single biggest improvement in her life.
Now that fear was back. Vinny had effectively asked Martin to kill her. And if Martin didn’t, Vinny would almost certainly find someone else who would. Killing Vinny before he killed her would be the sensible thing to do, but she still couldn’t do it.
The truth was that she still loved Delmarno and despite everything he was the father of their child. That Filipo wanted nothing to do with his father still pained her and she held out a hope, however slight, that the situation would change in time.
And then there was Martin. Jocelyn wasn’t naïve. She knew that the nightmares that Martin had suffered were from more than his years in the army. The enemy combatants that soldiers killed were largely faceless and anonymous. Even members of elite units like the SAS rarely knew the names of those who they killed. So who was Martin apologising to as he thrashed in his sleep? His anguished cries were muffled, often slurred from the alcohol he’d regularly consumed before bed, but it was clear that he repeated the same litany of names each night.
She knew that Vinny had killed people to get where he was and that he had utilised Martin’s unique skills to help him. The ghosts of those men had come back to haunt Martin in later years, even as he moved on from his violent ways. It had taken years for him to admit that he had a problem and still longer to seek help, and it was only in the last few years that he’d finally slain some of those demons.
But along with the return of Vinny had come the return of Martin’s dreams. Jocelyn was rarely witness to them. Opportunities to share Martin’s bed and fall asleep in his arms were scarce these days. Nevertheless, over the past eighteen months she and Vinny had spent nights apart; Vinny’s transplanted kidney required an occasional overnight stay in the local hospital and Jocelyn had friends and relatives throughout the country that Vinny had no interest in visiting. On those all-too-rare occasions Martin and Jocelyn had conspired to meet up and spend the night together, rather than trying to snatch a couple of hours here and there when they could be certain that Vinny would be away.
Was Martin killing again? Vinny had been vocal in his intention to track down and punish those who had caused his downfall. Had he done so? And had he turned to his old friend and confidant to help him?
Jocelyn was terrified that Martin had returned to his old ways. It had taken him years to purge the guilt that had hung around his neck for so long and she was fearful of what a return to form would do to his mental state. And for that reason she couldn’t let him kill Vinny. Bixby felt that he had betrayed Vinny; as his oldest friend had withered away in prison, Bixby had taken his wife, his home and his child. That Vinny didn’t know this and still thought of Bixby as his friend made it all worse.
“Are you coming to bed or what?” The voice from the bedroom was slurred, impatient.
Jocelyn shuddered as she spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink before answering. The urge to stay in the bathroom until her fiancé passed out was almost overwhelming. Fiancée. She’d never really thought of herself in those terms, but she supposed that she must be.
Her knuckles turned white as they gripped the sink. There had to be some way of ending this relationship. It couldn’t continue and she had been fooling herself if she thought otherwise. But how? One thing was certain—if Martin Bixby killed his friend, he’d be killing himself as well. And Jocelyn couldn’t let that happen.
Thursday 12 April
Chapter 45
Jocelyn Delmarno stared at the glowing red digits of the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. It flicked over to seven a.m. Swinging her legs out of the king-size bed that she shared with her ex-husband, Vinny, she placed her feet on the thick, shag-pile carpet. Beside her Delmarno grunted, before continuing his heavy, grumbling breathing. Getting up, she padded silently to the main bathroom, not wanting to risk waking the slumbering man by using the en suite.
The face staring back from the mirror bore only a superficial resemblance to the woman who’d finally gone to bed six hours earlier. Bloodshot eyes and mussed hair spoke of a night without sleep, but those same eyes had a resolve and clarity that had been lacking in that earlier person.
She thought back to the events of the last few hours and was unable to repress a shudder. Despite showering before going to bed, she suddenly felt an overwhelming need to wash again, to stand beneath scalding hot water and scrub until she felt clean.
The sex—it could hardly be termed lovemaking—had been aggressive and angry. It was as if Vinny was staking his claim over her. She thought back to Vinny’s release with a mixture of sadness and revulsion. It had been twenty-two years since the couple had shared a bed—twenty-two years since Vinny had felt the touch of a woman. The first time had been clumsy and brief. Disappointing, but understandable.
Yet Jocelyn needed more. She needed Martin. For years they had shared the same bed that she had just left. With Martin it truly was lovemaking. Over that time they had grown together, learning what the other needed, giving as well as receiving, offering not taking. The illicit thrill of those first encounters had given way to the gentle, caring embrace of a couple growing to know each other.
For Vinny though, time had stood still. His sexual desires were still that of a much younger man, but his aging, abused body was no longer what it once was. And so Jocelyn had resigned herself to a lifetime of perfunctory, poor sex with a man whom she loved, but was no longer in love with. Only her brief sojourns with Martin had brightened her life.
Now though, Vinny had changed. When she had finally joined him in bed
, he hadn’t even attempted to woo her, immediately clambering on top, pawing at her as if he owned her. She’d lain there and made all the right noises, but it had been over almost before it began. The look in his eyes as he rolled off her and reached for the light switch had been a mixture of anger and disgust. Unlike Martin, Vinny had never been one for cuddling. Tonight, however, he hadn’t even offered her a goodnight kiss.
The clock had passed five a.m. before Jocelyn had finally come to her decision. She knew what she had to do. The next hours had been spent planning how to achieve her goal. By the time the clock hit seven, she could no longer bear to remain next to Vinny. She would shower, cook breakfast like she always did and then she had to go and meet someone.
Chapter 46
Warren stared at the ceiling. He’d been lying there since finally giving up on sleep in the early hours. If he’d hoped that the coming of the dawn would bring clarity with it, he’d been disappointed. The only decision he’d made in the past few hours had been to go to B&Q and get some more emulsion to apply a second coat to the plaster around the new light fittings.
Beside him Susan sighed in her sleep. The couple had stayed up late in bed, whispering whilst Susan’s parents snored in the guest bedroom. By mutual consent, they had decided that sharing the news of Warren’s suspension with Bernice and Dennis would not be a good idea or in any way helpful.
“What are you going to do?” It was the same question that Warren had been asking himself, and hearing Susan ask it as well hadn’t led to any new flashes of inspiration.
