Like Father, Like Son

by Sarah Masters

  That was some measure of relief, but the fact that Damien had gone so far as to put Robby’s finger…

  “There’s something not right in that bloke’s head,” Robby said.

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Are you okay?” What a dumb question, you stupid bastard. “I mean… Well, you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “What are you going to do?” We. I should have said we. “How can I help you with this?” That’s better. Let him think you’re still in with him.

  “You can’t do much, can you?” Starky sighed. Still stared through the windshield. “In normal circs I’d have got you to shoot the bastard between the eyes but…” He shoved his hands in his hair and clenched it, the strands peeking between his fingers like errant grass through the cracks in concrete. “I can’t do it myself. Got too many eyes on me at the moment. And I don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

  There’s got to be someone else he trusts more than me. He hardly knows me.

  “What about Katrina’s nephew? That new kid. Won’t he want revenge? Can’t you get him to do it?”

  Starky tapped the steering wheel. Time stretched out for a bit, and Robby wondered whether Starky would ever answer him. As a right-hand man in training, was he supposed to offer more advice? He didn’t know and it left him with the sensation of drowning.

  “No,” Starky finally said. “We’ll have to wait this out. Like I said, revenge is a dish best served cold.”

  Waiting it out suited Robby fine. He’d be well away from here by the time Starky had Damien sorted out.

  That time couldn’t come quickly enough.

  Chapter Seven

  Matt was having one hell of a time trying to figure out who had killed Katrina Parky. It was gang related, he was sure of it, but as was the way with gangs, when questioned, everyone had clammed up. Matt, Aaron and a few constables had been out on the estate where Robby had grown up, trying to get people to talk, but those people weren’t having any of it. They’d either walked away before any policeman had reached them or they hadn’t answered when Matt had asked anything, just staring as though he didn’t exist.

  Unnerving and frustrating.

  Maybe Robby Zeus would be willing to help him out on that score. The young man was about to get a visit from them this morning. Ordinarily, Matt would have shifted the relocation issue to someone else, but Robby had crept under his skin and Matt wanted to have the initial chat himself. The importance of the move for Robby and his mother had to be impressed upon the young man, so that he was under no illusion that getting out of the city was the only thing they should be considering now. Robby also needed to understand that once he entered witness protection, there was no going back. No more contact with people around here. He was to disappear, never to return. Never to be heard of again, unless those who would be left behind decided to talk about him.

  News had come in earlier regarding the finger found inside Katrina Parky. As he’d suspected, it had belonged to Robby, although why the hell it had been put where it had been was a mystery to him. Well, not a mystery as to why—someone clearly wanted to frame Robby—but the other why… Why had it been placed there? A puzzle. That was another reason he wanted to speak to the man in question, to see if he could provide any answers.

  They were on their way to Mrs. Zeus’ now, Aaron doing the driving. It gave Matt the chance to think things through without having to concentrate on the road.

  “I reckon the person who left the finger with Katrina is a bit dim,” Aaron said. “I mean, it’s not like Robby could have done it, even if he couldn’t provide an alibi. The bloke’s hands are buggered.”

  “Yeah, well, some of these gang members didn’t finish school—too busy bunking off and messing around with their gang buddies. If we spend time chasing after Robby, it’s less time spent chasing the real killer. We’d have played right into their hands.” Matt rubbed a palm down his face. Man, he was tired. He needed some serious rest and relaxation. He hadn’t had any time off in a while, cases coming in thick and fast. No sooner did one get solved than another breezed along, and oftentimes they overlapped.

  “Still, finishing school or not, it’s just common sense,” Aaron said. “People don’t use it much these days, I’ve found. Drives me batty.”

  Matt laughed. “Then I must drive you batty and all, because I don’t use it much sometimes. I’m not dim, but as you know, I can appear so. Tiredness plays a big part in that. Mind’s elsewhere, that sort of thing.”

  “Excuses, excuses…”

  “Uh, do you like your mouth?” Matt asked.

  “Yep. I’ve been told by someone not a million miles away that it’s sexy.” Aaron grinned.

  “So why do you keep putting your foot in it, ruining the sexiness? Hardly a nice thing to be doing, is it?” Matt leaned forward to ferret about in the glove compartment. He found a Werther’s Original, possibly a few months old but not to worry. If it didn’t have mold on it, he’d eat the bugger. “Want one of these?”

  “What, so you’re saying I’m old now?”

  Matt smiled. “The adverts are misleading. They’re not just for the older generation. And now you come to mention it, you are getting on a bit.”

  “What? Do you like your mouth?”

  Matt laughed hard.

  “Tosser.” Aaron grinned wider.

  “That’s me, but I’m your tosser.”

  Aaron took a left into Mrs. Zeus’ street then parked outside her house. “Yeah, my tosser—one who needs to learn some manners. One who needs a good seeing to from the sound of it.”

  “That a promise?”

  “Damn right.” Aaron switched off the engine. “Once we get a bit of time to ourselves, that is. Having a quickie in the broom cupboard at the station is an option but—”

  “Uh, no. Thank you, but no.” Matt slung the unwrapped Werther’s onto the dash. He’d eat it when they were finished with Robby, if he remembered. “Do you reckon he’ll go through with relocating or do you think he’s all mouth and no trousers?”

  Aaron chuckled. “I’d say he’s all hands and no fingers but that wouldn’t be very nice, would it.”

  “Aaron!” Matt held his laughter in. “You’re a cruel bastard sometimes, you are.”

  “Ah, you’ve got to find the funny in things, Matt, otherwise we’d go crazy. But to answer your question, no, I don’t think he’ll relocate. But of course, I might be wrong and you can say ‘I told you so’ later. I don’t doubt for a second that he wants to, but wanting to and actually doing it are two completely different animals. We know how gangs work, how hard it is for the culture to be stripped out of someone. It’s in them, hammered in from the second they join a gang. It’s kind of like expecting someone to come off heroin cold turkey. Leaving a gang without the right support could lead to tricky episodes.”

  “Hmm.” Matt stared through the windscreen at a hedge in someone’s garden. It swayed in the breeze, oblivious to its surroundings. He wished he could be oblivious sometimes. “And he’s back in his usual environment now, with people who can twitter on in his ear, convincing him that being with The Jugulars or The Hardarms is the right thing for him to be doing. Not that I can see him admitting to anyone in those gangs that he’s thinking of leaving. He’d be signing his own death warrant.”

  “He would. And yeah, they offer the chance of leaving with a freedom job, but those kids are never free, not really. We’re aware of this and see it time and time again. Take last night as an example. Jacobs followed Robby on foot from here and he met up with Starky. Doesn’t say much for someone who wants to leave gang life, does it?”

  “Maybe Robby had no choice.” The idea of Robby feeling forced to go and see The Hardarm leader stuck in his craw. “He might have had to meet him so as not to arouse suspicion. If he acts differently between now and when he relocates, people are going to suspect—then they’ll start sniffing around, and we don’t want that. We need them to keep away from here
so we can remove them without anyone seeing. He’s actually been very smart.”

  “Yep, but still, my gut says we’ve lost Robby. At the moment. I added that bit so you can’t say ‘I told you so’, all right?”

  “All right. Sad state of affairs if we have lost him, though.”

  “Perhaps it’ll change once things are put in motion and he realizes it’s actually happening. People on this estate don’t trust the police, remember. For all we know, Robby thinks we’re just using him for information to catch the bigger fish. I doubt he’ll believe we actually care enough to follow through on what we’ve said.”

  “Hmm.” A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had Matt glancing at Mrs. Zeus’ house, effectively ending that conversation.

  Someone was watching them through the nets at the front window. The shadow of a figure was backlit by the sun coming in through what appeared to be patio doors at the rear of the room. Robby. The height and shape gave him away.

  “Somebody’s clocked us,” Matt said.

  “Somebody else has, too.” Aaron nodded to the next-door-neighbor’s house.

  “Oh, God. Bloody Vera What’s-Her-Name. That old girl who keeps ringing the station about this and that.” Matt sighed. “Doesn’t look like our visit will be kept quiet for long. She’s got a gob on her as wide as the Thames. Before lunchtime, the whole estate will know about us being here. Starky might start pestering Robby about us turning up again. I’m worried Robby will slip up if pushed too hard. Much as I had him pegged as a crafty little sod, we’re back to that common sense issue. I don’t think he’s astute enough to keep everything straight in his head.”

  “You’re joking, aren’t you? Not astute enough? If he can get through having his fingers cut off without giving up information… Think about it—he’s one tough bloke deep down.” Aaron shuddered. “A stronger bloke than me. I don’t think I could endure what he did without saying what they wanted to hear. And hey, we let a good opportunity slip us by. We should have telephoned Vera to find out where Robby was when his fingers were turning up. Bet she’d have known.”

  “If she did, wouldn’t she have rung it in or at least told Mrs. Zeus? Maybe we ought to nip to hers afterwards. What do you reckon? Would we be putting her at risk if someone sees us, do you think?”

  Aaron shrugged. “If neither of the gangs have touched her by now, I doubt they ever will. Maybe they don’t know she’s the one grassing them up for all their small shit. So, no harm in it, but I agree it’d be obvious if we go there. Not like we can slip inside without being spotted by others, is it?”

  Vera What’s-Her-Name yanked her net curtain back and peered through the glass, frowning. She flapped her hand at them as though she was on the side of the criminals and wanted Matt and Aaron gone from the street. Sunlight glanced off some ring or other she had on her wedding finger. Odd. As far as Matt knew, she was single.

  Aaron chuckled. “We could interpret that as her waving at us. Now she’s batting her eyelashes at you, look.”

  “Piss off, Aaron.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not flattered. Nice old crone like that giving you the come-on.”

  “I mean it, Aaron…”

  “Blow her a kiss, go on.”

  Matt tried not to laugh. Aaron in this kind of mood meant today would be more trying than usual if he kept this sort of thing up. “Listen, let’s get serious now.”

  “I was being serious. That’s why she insists on being put through to you all the time when she rings up. She’s got a crush.”

  Matt tsked and exited the car. His muscles were full of kinks and he shook them out, although those in the back of his neck refused to sod off. He stood on the pavement and looked at Vera, raising his eyebrows in question. She put a finger to her lips then let her net drop from her hand. It swung from side to side then came to rest in wonky pleats.

  “If she’s asking us to talk to her, how does she think we’re going to go to her house without Mrs. Zeus or Robby knowing when she bloody well lives next door?” Matt asked over the roof of the car.

  Aaron stared at him from the other side, having climbed out of the car. “I think she’s sorted that dilemma out for you.”

  Matt turned to find Vera leaving her house. She blanked them, trotting down her path in silver court shoes, the heels click-clacking with every step. Given her age—in her sixties, Matt reckoned—she’d be classed by some as mutton dressed as lamb, what with her peroxide hair, black stockings, even blacker mini skirt, her short cerise-pink leather jacket and one of those chiffon scarf things smothered in leopard print. She dug into her bright orange handbag as though looking for something, then turned out of her gate and strutted down the street, dropping a piece of paper beside a parked car while glancing over her shoulder.

  “Christ, would you look at her? Go and get that, will you?” Matt asked. “She’s playing silly buggers. Watches too much drama on TV, that one. Next she’ll be wearing massive sunglasses and a big floppy hat, telling us things from the side of her mouth in a French accent.”

  Aaron took off after her, his laughter drifting back to Matt. Vera walked faster, as if she thought he might want to actually talk to her in public. If it had been Matt on her tail, he’d have called out to her, made her stop. It’d soon teach her not to waste their time with her incessant phone calls if someone else in the street caught sight of her being spoken to by him. She was the type to want to pass on gossip to the police but not be known as the one doing it. Then again, talking to her wouldn’t be right. Purposely putting her in any kind of danger wasn’t something Matt ought to even be considering.

  After picking up the piece of paper, Aaron read whatever had been written on it. He raised his head, looking at Matt, who thought that for once, Vera must have come up trumps. Aaron was smiling—proper big smiling—and he slid the note into his trouser pocket. When he reached Matt, he turned his back to Mrs. Zeus’ house. Matt gave her front window a sideways glance. Robby was no longer in sight.

  “She says to ask Robby about working for Starky, and also to mention Damien Fox,” Aaron said. “Word’s going round that Damien’s been bragging he was the one to cut off Robby’s fingers.”

  “How the hell does she find out this kind of shit?” Matt asked.

  “She’s told me before on the phone that she’s always earwigging people’s conversations. Bet she’s up the corner shop several times a day, listening in the queue.” Aaron winked. “I wouldn’t complain this time, seeing as she might well have given us good information, something we can actually use.”

  Matt scratched his earlobe. “Why would Damien Fox brag when he works for Starky, when Starky’s sodding wife is currently on ice, and one of the fingers he’s bragging about has recently been removed from her? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Aaron shrugged. “He reckons he’s untouchable, obviously. Possibly doesn’t think Starky would believe Damien had anything to do with it. They’ve had each other’s backs for a long time, don’t forget. They’ve known each other since they were nippers and their fathers ran The Hardarms. People who have a history like that—why would Starky imagine Damien had crossed him?”

  “Yeah, maybe Starky doesn’t think Damien’s dodgy.” Matt recalled Starky’s reaction when they’d called on him with news of Katrina’s death yesterday. The bloke had been apathetic, emotionless. All right, he could have been holding his feelings in because they were the police, but not to have even flinched? “Starky might well trust the man. Might have even got him to off Katrina. I think, if Starky had any inkling Damien was involved in her murder, and Starky hadn’t asked Damien to kill her, Damien wouldn’t be alive today.”

  “How do we know he is alive? He could have been made to disappear after he’d bragged about leaving the fingers,” Aaron asked.

  “Fair point.” Matt sighed. “Come on, let’s see to Robby then get on with trying to find Mr. Damien Fox.”

  He strode up the path, glancing to the right to make sure a PC was still sit
ting in an unmarked car. He was. Matt mused on how long it would be before the residents around here would spot the surveillance, too.

  At the door, Matt gave it a few raps with his knuckles. The action made him wonder how long it would be before Robby could do the same without being in pain.

  Mrs. Zeus opened up, and she stood to the side. “Come in.” She grimaced, as if to tell them Robby wasn’t in the best of moods today—or maybe that she wasn’t.

  Just what we need, the pair of them being awkward.

  “Thanks,” Matt said and stepped in, waiting in the hallway for Aaron to join him and for Mrs. Zeus to close the door. “In the living room, is he?”

  “Yes, go on through,” she said, folding her arms over her stomach. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  The residual aroma of the stew she’d recently made hung in the air, and he was surprised at that. Maybe Robby had had some leftovers, because last time Matt had been here, the air had held no traces of food. The woman was clearly a neat freak and loved the scent of polish and maybe Febreze.

  He walked into the living room, where the only thing out of place today was Robby sprawled on the sofa with a dark-green tartan blanket over him and a mug on the coffee table. His bright red hoodie glared against the darkness of the sofa cushion beneath him.

  “I’d bet your mum would have your guts for garters if she saw you hadn’t used a coaster,” Matt said. “How are you doing, Robby?”

  “Oh, fuck.” Robby struggled to get out of his reclining position.

  “I’ll sort it,” Matt said and slid a coaster across the table then placed the mug on it. “Funny how you’re bothered about your mum catching you doing something you shouldn’t when…” He left the rest of his sentence in his mouth. It tasted bitter, so he swallowed it.

  “Yeah, well. Don’t want to upset my old ma, do I?”