by Roberta Kray
Before Susan could change her mind again, Jo went into the kitchen, dumped her mug beside the sink and grabbed the plastic carrier with the letters and the lease inside. She thought about asking for her mobile back – Susan had picked it up last night and put it in her bag – but decided not. There was no point pushing her luck. She would just have to cross her fingers and hope that Gabe didn’t decide to give her a call in the brief period of time it would take to cross the Green and get to Ruby’s.
Chapter Sixty-one
Leo was standing by the side of the house, waiting for Jo to appear. He had been waiting for over an hour. It wasn’t cold but a light drizzle was falling on his head and shoulders. He swiped a hand through his hair, shaking out the raindrops. Usually, on a Saturday, she left at about eight but it was already a quarter to nine and there was still no sign of her. He twisted his fingers round the handlebars of the bike. He was starting to get worried.
Last night he had heard the bell to the upstairs flat, two short muffled rings that had woken him from the light sleep he had only just fallen into. He hadn’t been sure of the exact time but it had definitely been after midnight. Had it been him? Leo wasn’t sure but who else would call so late? He had got up to look out of the window but whoever it was had already passed out of sight. There had been the faint murmur of voices, footsteps on the stairs, and it had all gone quiet. But only for a while. The bang, when it had come about twenty minutes later, had shaken the ceiling. It had sounded like something heavy being dropped or someone crashing to the floor …
Leo’s heart began to drum in his chest. He should have reacted. He should have done something. The man was sick, violent, the lowest of the low. What if Jo was lying dead up there, beaten to a pulp? What if he could have saved her and instead had done nothing? He shifted from one foot to another, feeling guiltily afraid, and tried to decide what to do next. Perhaps he should go and ring the bell but if he did, and she answered, what would he say? He needed a good excuse but his brain was too messed up to think of one. And what if he answered? Leo shuddered. He still had the bruises from their last encounter. Was he really brave enough to face him again?
Fortunately, before he had to make that decision, he heard the front door open and a second later Jo came out. She was still in the process of shrugging on her jacket. A pair of large sunglasses covered her eyes.
‘Hi,’ he said, wheeling his bike on to the drive.
Jo visibly jumped. She raised a hand to her chest. ‘Leo! God, hi, you gave me a fright.’
‘Sorry,’ he said. However, he was so relieved to see her that he couldn’t stop grinning. Quickly, he tried to take control of his renegade lips. ‘Are you going to work?’
She nodded.
‘I’m heading for the High Street too. I’ll walk with you.’ He was surprised by his own boldness. In the old days, when Peter had been alive, he had chatted quite comfortably with her but over recent months he had grown strangely shy.
Jo gave a faint worried smile before glancing up at the first-floor window.
Leo automatically looked up too. He thought he might have seen a movement but couldn’t swear to it. It could’ve been his imagination. It was only as he lowered his gaze, as he looked at her again, that he noticed the cruel purple swelling on her brow. It was almost hidden by the shades but not quite. He sucked in his breath. ‘What happened to your eye?’
A pink flush suffused her cheeks. Jo raised a hand, self-consciously, to her forehead.
‘Oh, this,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing. I just tripped and bashed into the door.’ She laughed. ‘I’m such an idiot sometimes.’
Leo smiled too, although he knew she was lying. It was the kind of excuse women always made when they were covering up for someone. He had seen it on TV, seen the way certain men lashed out and how the women pretended it had never happened. He had a good idea of who had really caused the damage. A wave of anger washed over him. He looked up at the window again but it was still empty. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Of course I am.’ Jo strode briskly down the drive, glanced left and right and crossed over Barley Road.
Leo, still wheeling his bike, had to run a few steps to catch up. ‘Only it looks kind of painful.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
And that was something else women always said, either because they were too scared or too ashamed to reveal the truth. Leo sensed it would be unwise to pursue the subject. For a while, he walked quietly beside her. He didn’t mind the silence. It was good just to be near her. There was something about how she made him feel when she was close enough to touch. He told himself that the feeling was purely one of protectiveness – who else would take care of her now that Peter was gone? – but that didn’t entirely account for the palpitations of his heart or the hot prickling of his skin. He tried not to stare too intently at her chest. Through the thin white cotton of her blouse he could clearly see the outline of her bra.
When they were almost halfway across the Green, she suddenly turned and said: ‘Do you remember anything about your dad, Leo?’
Surprised, he shook his head and frowned. ‘Not really. I don’t think so. I was only two when he died.’
She nodded.
Leo waited but she said nothing more. He was too curious to let it go. ‘Why? Did you know him?’
‘No, no, we never met. He used to work for Mitchell Strong, didn’t he?’
‘Yeah, but Mum didn’t like him. Mitchell Strong, I mean. She says he was a …’ Leo stopped abruptly, mortified at the thought that he was in the process of insulting Peter’s father. His cheeks went bright red and began to burn. ‘Er … I didn’t … she didn’t …’
‘It’s okay,’ Jo said, picking up on his embarrassment. ‘There’s nothing she could have said that hasn’t been said a thousand times before – and worse. By all accounts, he was a complete and utter shit.’ She paused and pulled a face. ‘Although it might be better, all things considered, if you didn’t quote me on that.’
Leo grinned back at her, outrageously pleased that she had told him something she didn’t wish to have repeated. That was almost the same as a secret. ‘Mum really liked Peter though,’ he said, wanting to give her a gift in return. ‘We both did.’
She gave another small nod. ‘It must have been tough on her, being widowed when you were so young.’
‘I guess,’ Leo said. That was what made Jo different from most girls, the way she thought about the feelings of others. But perhaps she was too soft-hearted. There would always be people, especially men, who would be more than willing to take advantage. He glanced at the cut above her eye again and scowled. The idea that anyone could even think about hurting her filled him with an all-consuming rage.
‘Well,’ Jo said as they passed through the gate to the High Street.
Leo got on his bike, pretending he had somewhere to go. He would do a spin round the block and then head home. ‘See you later,’ he said.
‘See you later.’
When he had cycled a short way, he pulled in and looked back over his shoulder. She had crossed over and was standing at the door to Ruby’s. ‘Jo!’ he yelled.
She turned, scanning the street. It took her a moment to find him.
He raised an arm and waved. ‘Have a good day!’
‘You too,’ she said.
Leo couldn’t actually hear the words above the sound of the traffic but, watching her mouth, was able to read her lips. He gave another quick wave and cycled off.
Chapter Sixty-two
John Devlin had been none too pleased when he’d prised up the floorboards and discovered that the shooter was gone. Since then he’d been searching for Stevie, on and off, for the past twenty-four hours. When he finally found the scrote, he was going to turn him upside down and shake him until his stupid thieving brains fell out.
Standing by the gate, he lit a fag and softly swore. ‘Fuckin’ bastard.’ No one stole from him. No one. He leaned back
against the black wrought-iron railings. From here he could see both the Green and the all-night caff. They were two of Stevie’s regular haunts. The kid was usually around early Saturday and Sunday eager to provide any returning party-goers with their uppers and downers or whatever other crap they needed.
So where was he? Hiding out probably. Perhaps his mother had tipped him off. Devlin had already given her a good slap. The bitch had sworn she knew nothing about it but that hadn’t stopped him. She was his bleedin’ mother, wasn’t she? It didn’t matter what she did or didn’t know. What was the point in having sprogs if you couldn’t control the little bastards?
Devlin took a long drag on his fag. Just to add insult to injury, it was raining. He turned up the collar of his jacket; if he stayed here much longer, he’d get soaked to the skin. It was yet another aggravation to add to his growing list of resentments. He’d give it five more minutes, then grab some breakfast in the caff.
A slim blonde and a teenage kid with a bike were walking across the Green. As they came closer, Devlin made a quick practised survey of her body. Not bad, although he preferred his tarts with a bit more up top. Still, he wouldn’t throw her out of bed. They came out of the gate, turned left and strolled right past. He had a leer ready and waiting but the blonde didn’t even glance at him. At least he didn’t think she did. It was hard to tell with those big shades she was wearing.
They were ten yards down the street before it occurred to him. Didn’t he know her? He was pretty sure he’d seen her somewhere before. He screwed up his eyes while he considered it. He was good on faces – you had to be if you worked the doors – but he couldn’t quite place her.
Pushing away from the railings, Devlin followed at a discreet distance. He may as well stretch his legs. She crossed the road and the kid pissed off on his bike. Then the boy stopped and yelled at her. ‘Jo!’
It was only as she turned that it suddenly clicked. She was the tart he’d seen last Friday down by Euston Station. Yeah, he was sure of it. She had stood on the pavement and stared directly at him. He’d been certain she wasn’t going to move – she’d looked rooted to the spot – but then, as if someone had put a cattle prod up her arse, she’d leapt into the street and straight into a cab with that bastard Miller.
Devlin watched as she went into Ruby’s. He hung back a moment, then crossed over and strolled casually past the shop. A closed sign was still on the door. He peered through the glass but she’d already disappeared. Never mind. He knew where she worked now. He knew where to find her.
Chapter Sixty-three
Jo, preparing herself for the next cross-examination, gritted her teeth as she stepped into Ruby’s. Sweet as Leo was, she could have done without his company this morning. She had been hoping to have a few quiet minutes to herself, a chance to try and get her head together. Still, that hadn’t been his fault and at least his questions hadn’t been too hard to deflect.
She gave a breezy wave of her hand as she passed through the shop and went straight into the office.
Jacob, predictably, hurried in behind. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said, closing the door behind them. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be in or not so I arranged for cover. I can always send one of them home if you don’t think they’re needed. Except it is Saturday and we could be quite busy later so if you’re not planning on staying then …’
Jo knew he was talking too much to cover up his discomfort. She was feeling awkward too. Although they had had one brief conversation on the phone, it was a couple of days since they had actually seen one another. As she turned and took off her glasses, she saw his dark eyes fill with horror.
‘My God, what happened to you, Jo?’ He rushed forward, grasping both her hands.
His voice was so emotional, his face so full of worry, that a lump came to her throat. If she had ever had doubts about Jacob’s affection for her, they were instantly extinguished. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, her reply a little more high-pitched than it should have been. She would have liked to have sunk into his fatherly arms, to tell him everything, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t afford to come clean; Susan was still at the flat and Silver’s future still hung in the balance. ‘Hey, it’s nothing. I’m good. It was just an accident. I had one too many drinks, tripped over and banged by head against the door. Pretty stupid, right, but we’re all entitled to hit the bottle once in a while.’
‘Have you been to the hospital?’
‘It doesn’t need stitches. It’s only a cut.’
‘You just fell?’
‘I just fell,’ she repeated, smiling. Gently, she slipped her hands out of his. Did he believe her? Probably not, she thought, although her story wasn’t actually that far from the truth. No one had hit her. No one had deliberately hurt her. ‘Look, is there any chance you could get me a coffee? I just need five minutes. I have to make one quick call, then we can sit down and have a chat.’
Jacob gave her a long interrogative look and nodded.
Before he was even out of the door, Jo was lifting her wallet from her bag. She flipped out Gabe Miller’s card, laid it on the desk and quickly dialled the number. It rang and rang but he didn’t pick up. Eventually it went into answer mode. ‘Damn,’ she muttered, slapping her palm against the desk. Where was he? Should she leave a message? She couldn’t decide. What if the police had pulled him in again? What if someone else had his phone? She hung up.
Leaning back, she grabbed a copy of the Yellow Pages off the shelf and looked up Garage Services. Her finger ran down the entries. There it was: J. B. Harris in Dalston. She dialled the number and said a short prayer. Please God, let someone answer. Eventually, after about ten rings, somebody did.
‘Yeah?’ a male voice snapped impatiently down the line.
She couldn’t tell from the single word whether it was Snakey or not. ‘Er … is that Mr Harris?’
There was a pause, then the voice grew instantly friendlier. ‘Yeah. Hi, is that you, Jo? How are you doing?’
‘Fine,’ she said for what felt like the tenth time that morning. ‘Look, I’m trying to get hold of Gabe. Do you know where he is? I’ve tried his phone but he’s not picking up.’
‘He’s upstairs in the flat. Could be in the shower. You want me to go get him?’
She heaved a sigh of relief but aware that Jacob could be back at any moment, said, ‘No, I can’t wait but could you give him a message? I need to see him. It’s urgent, very urgent. I’m not at home; I’m at Ruby’s. And could you tell him not to call me on my mobile. If he can’t make it, he can ring the shop. Oh, hang on, I’d better give you the number. Do you have a pen?’
‘Don’t worry. He’ll be there.’
‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully, ‘and you won’t forget about the mobile? He mustn’t ring me on it.’
He gave a low chuckle. ‘Give me some credit, love. Even my short-term memory isn’t that bad.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean …’
‘It’s okay. I’ll go and tell him now. Take care, yeah?’
‘You too,’ she said again before hanging up. It was only at that point that she realised Snakey hadn’t even asked what was going on. Was that down to diplomacy or simply a self-preserving wish to not get dragged any further into this mess? Probably the former, she decided, recalling his earlier inability to leave well alone.
She had only just replaced the receiver when there was a light knock on the door and Jacob came back in. He placed a mug of coffee on the desk.
‘You’re an angel,’ she said, lifting the mug to her lips and taking a couple of much-needed gulps. Whether the caffeine would actually do much for her headache was debatable, but at least it would get the blood running through her arteries again. ‘Grab a seat,’ she said, gesturing towards the chair in front of her.
Jacob sat down. ‘I’m glad you came in, Jo. I … I wanted a chance to clear the air, to explain to you why we—’
‘There’s no need for that,’ she interrupted, aghast at the thought o
f having to go through it all again. ‘I told you it was finished, done with, and I meant it. I’m not holding any grudges. I promise. I understand why you did what you did. I was upset at the time but that was just the shock.’ She took another sip of her coffee. ‘That’s not why I wanted to talk to you.’
Jacob pursed his lips, uneasy perhaps as to what was coming next.
‘But first,’ Jo said, ‘I want you to have these.’ She took a couple of cheques from her bag and slid them across the desk.
‘You don’t have to—’
‘Yes, I do,’ she insisted, ‘and I’ll be insulted if you don’t take them. There’s one for you and one for Deborah. I hope it covers everything you’ve paid out.’
Jacob stared at them for a moment. Several emotions seemed to pass across his face – pain, sorrow, regret – but he slowly reached out his hand, folded the cheques and put them in his pocket.
‘Thank you,’ Jo said. What she had to ask next she wasn’t looking forward to. Having just claimed that the past was in the past, she was about to resurrect a part of it. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, Jacob, how well did you actually know Leonard Kearns?’
‘A little,’ he replied cautiously.
She took a deep breath before she continued. ‘Enough to know that he was acting as a mule for Mitchell Strong?’
He stiffened, his face turning pale. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Does it matter?’
He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. ‘Whatever you might have heard, Leonard was a decent man.’
‘So tell me about him,’ she said softly. She didn’t really know why she was digging it all up again. What she should be concentrating on was that Susan was currently holed up in her flat with the kidnapped daughter of a violent gangster. She was hardly prioritising her problems but she didn’t give a damn. Silver Delaney was currently safe, Gabe was on his way, and there were still things about the past, about Peter, that she needed to make sense of.
