Rita stopped him before he went any further. “Hang on, let me make sense of this … Remember when you told me about Leroy coming to live in Longsight, and you said he might be hiding from something?”
“Yeah,” agreed Vinny.
By this time Julie was back in the room, and they were all paying attention while Rita was trying to digest this latest piece of information.
“Well, it’s no wonder he wants to get away if the Buckthorn Crew have got so many enemies.”
“That’s supposing it was his decision to move and not his mother’s,” said Julie.
“I doubt whether his mother has much say. He’s the oldest; I bet he calls all the shots in that family.” Rita was running her hands through her hair while thinking things through, a habit she had developed lately. “Maybe she was asking too many questions though, like mothers do. That’ll be why it suits him better to live at Jenny’s.”
“Maybe,” said Julie.
“Jesus, that’s it!” shouted Rita. The others looked at her in alarm, Julie taking a swift glance at Emily to make sure Rita’s shouting hadn’t upset her.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, but it’s just hit me. Cheetham Hill! That’s where he goes for his supplies, isn’t it? The dodgy goods … I bet he’s getting more than dodgy goods from Cheetham Hill.” She ran her hands through her hair again and lifted her head, dropping her hands and looking upwards. “The bastard!”
Regretting her bad language, with Emily close by, she stood up and started pacing. Her frenzied steps led her to the hallway where she was no longer within Emily’s hearing range. Julie and Yansis followed behind.
“What is it, Rita?” Julie pleaded.
“That bastard, Leroy! He’s only playing both sides. Can’t you see? It all makes sense now. That must be why he’s going to Cheetham Hill, and if the Buckthorns hate the Cheetham Hill lot, how will they react if they know he’s trading drugs with them?”
“Calm down, Rita. We don’t know that,” said Julie.
“It’s obvious! The dodgy goods are just a cover. Why would he be dealing in dodgy goods when he can make a fortune selling drugs? Have you any idea how much these drug pushers earn selling heroin and crack? Our Jenny was telling me about it. Course, the silly cow probably didn’t realise Leroy was one of them. That’ll be why he’s going up to Cheetham Hill. It makes no sense otherwise.”
“Well, I suppose you could be right, Rita.”
“Julie, I hope to God I’m not!”
“Why?”
“Because if I am right, then it means our Jenny is in even more danger than I thought.”
Rita ran her hands through her hair once more before she went in search of her cigarettes.
-------------------
Tuesday 23rd April 1991 – late evening
Mikey had been building up to this attack for over a week, and he was seriously scared. He intended to carry out Leroy and Mad Trevor’s instructions, which meant that this experience would be a first for him. Mikey was used to pulling a knife; he’d used one a few times for muggings, but he was also used to choosing his victims. The sight of the knife would generally be enough to make them surrender, and part with their cash and other valuables. He’d even drawn blood, just a little nick once or twice to silence the cocky ones into submission. But he’d never killed a man.
He normally had his mates with him for back-up too, but this time he was alone. That was all part of his instructions. The fewer people that knew, the better, Leroy had said. That way there was less chance of any witnesses coming forward, if they were reckless enough to grass on the Buckthorn Crew.
He’d been watching the man, a member of the MSC, for a few nights. Every night he told himself that this would be the night he did it. Then he would bottle out at the last minute. Tonight, though, he had to do it. The pressure was mounting. Members of the Buckthorn Crew were asking why the job hadn’t been done, and he was running out of excuses.
One advantage of him being chosen was that he wasn’t yet recognised as a member of the Buckthorns, because he was new to the gang. Therefore, his presence in the area over the past few days hadn’t raised any suspicions, or so he thought.
He’d been outside the house for the last twenty minutes. Watching, waiting. He knew that the man usually left around this time, either to go dealing, or to meet other members of the MSC. Mikey had decided that he would carry out his attack while the man was still alone.
It was late evening. The darkened paths and alleyways that wound around the estate made ideal places in which to stay obscured. Mikey was tucked behind an overgrown rose bush when he spotted the man leaving his home. The adrenaline pulsated through his body as he followed the man, taking care to keep to the shadows.
The man was approaching the end of a row of houses, and Mikey anticipated that he might turn the corner, which would lead to a gloomy alleyway. That was when Mikey would make his move.
Just as he had anticipated, the man turned the corner. Mikey sped up as quietly as he could, so he could close the gap. He entered the alleyway and caught sight of his intended victim, about five metres ahead. Mikey continued to move in on him, careful not to break the silence, so he could take him by surprise.
He was about three metres away when the man turned to face him. His challenging words caught Mikey unawares. “Come on then, boy, show us what you got,” said the man, beckoning to him with upturned hands, like a warden controlling traffic.
Mikey was about to charge the man, his knife at the ready, when he heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned to the side, keeping the man in his peripheral vision. He spotted the men to his right. Three of them, wearing hoodies. Mikey sensed straightaway that they were here for him. And they were getting nearer.
“What the fuck you up to?” the first one asked.
Mikey just stood there silent, the fear consuming him. Within seconds they had crowded in on him. “Not here,” one of them said. “We don’t wanna be seen. Get him in the car.”
They grabbed Mikey’s knife and frogmarched him to the end of the alleyway, where a car was parked. Then they forced him inside it. He was squashed on the backseat between two of the men, who searched him and seized the rest of his belongings. Another of them was driving, and the man he had followed was sitting in the front passenger seat. This was the man who Mikey had been instructed to kill. He turned around to face Mikey, and spoke.
“Right boy. I wanna know why the fuck you’ve been following me, and what the hell you think you’re up to.”
“I wasn’t gonna use it, honest. It’s just to make people gimme their cash.”
“You must think I’m stupid!” shouted the man. “You wasn’t planning no fuckin’ muggin’. You’ve been following me for days. I wanna know who sent you, I want names, addresses, everything you know.”
Mikey didn’t say anything. Despite his fear, he couldn’t afford to let the gang down. He would have to take whatever punishment they doled out to him, and refuse to give in.
“Don’t play the smart guy with me,” the man raged, leaning over the front seat to thump Mikey’s jaw so hard it knocked him sideways. “I know that the Buckthorn Crew sent you, and by the time we’ve finished with you, you’ll be squealing like a pig.”
He turned to the driver. “Take us to the lock-up. It needs to be done where no-one can hear him scream.”
Chapter 15
Wednesday 24th April 1991 - morning
It was early Wednesday morning, and the postman was making his deliveries on the Buckthorn council estate. He liked this time of day; it was the only time when he felt safe in this area. The estate was notorious for gangs, and had a bad reputation for knifings, muggings and shootings. Although more than one gang was based on the Buckthorn Estate, each had its own territory. Rumour had it that this part of the estate was the territory of the Buckthorn Crew, and that many of the attacks were due to inter-gang rivalry.
This early in the morning the gangsters were still in bed, having stayed up
late, dealing in drugs and involved in other nefarious activities. It was generally from midday onwards that the problems started. Once it was past midday, you couldn’t guarantee your safety, but fortunately he didn’t live in the area so, once his round was over, he got out of there as soon as he could. He’d been asking for a move for some time, but this was an estate where no-one wanted to work, and his employers knew it.
Until today he’d been prepared to put up with it, knowing how difficult it was to get another job if you were unskilled. Little did he realise that this would be the last day on his rounds. After today, he would never step foot on the Buckthorn Estate again. The sight that met him on that spring morning would stay with him forever.
It was a young man, although it was difficult to tell his age, his face was so badly beaten. There was no doubt in the postman’s mind that the young man was dead though. Nobody could survive that level of injury without bleeding to death. He only took a quick look. He couldn’t stand much more. But in those fleeting seconds he noticed that several fingers were missing from the body, and the torso was ripped open.
Shocked by the macabre scene, he dropped his sack of letters and fled. He didn’t stop running until he reached his postal van. With shaking hands, he started the engine and drove to the postal distribution office, where he reported his discovery, and tendered his resignation straightaway.
-------------------
Thursday 25th April 1991 – early evening
Jenny and Winston fastened their clothes and took up their usual positions; Jenny on the armchair and Winston on the sofa. There were two cups on the coffee table, which they had emptied earlier. It was a routine they had practiced on countless occasions. Sex for them was a frantic activity, with the risk of discovery adding to the thrill.
Like surreptitious teenagers sneaking behind their parents’ backs, they had to grasp what opportunities they could. Jenny and Winston couldn’t afford to undress fully. Instead they aimed for a quick recovery, in case Leroy should return home unexpectedly. They were chancing the odds, knowing he spent more time outside the home than inside it nowadays.
Winston leant forward, grasping Jenny’s hands while they talked. From this position he could quickly sit back in the sofa if necessary, and Jenny could do likewise. It wasn’t the same as spending hours, skin against skin, wrapped in each other’s embrace, but for them it would have to do.
While their physical contact wasn’t as intimate as they would have liked, they were getting to know each other intimately in the spoken sense. For Jenny, time had revealed the intrinsic differences between Winston and Leroy’s personalities, and she was realising what a mistake she had made. The trouble was that, like Winston, she was now in Leroy’s grip, and it was too late to do anything about it.
Over the last few weeks, Winston had told her how much he hated being part of the Buckthorn Crew. He had joined as a young lad when it had seemed the thing to do. At that time he hadn’t given much thought to the trouble it would lead him into. He had also been under the influence of some of the older lads on his estate, including Leroy. What he hated most about the Buckthorns, though, was the brutality. Although he’d been pressured into committing his fair share of violence, it wasn’t something he was proud of. However, he had avoided being involved in some of the more callous crimes by which the Buckthorns had gained their ruthless reputation. Now, as they sat facing each other, Jenny spoke.
“I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” she said, scowling.
“Me too, but he’d kill us if he ever found out.”
“I know.”
“Straight up, Jenny! I’m not just saying that. There are rumours, you know?”
Jenny shifted in her seat, and withdrew her hands from Winston’s, in shock. “What rumours?”
“Him and a few of the gang were supposed to have killed a guy in prison. It was a few years back. They did it in retaliation, ’cos this guy killed someone who was working for Leroy. It was never proven though. They couldn’t find no witnesses.”
“You’re joking!”
“No, seriously. I told you, we’ve gotta be dead careful. It’s not the only one he’s done either, from what I’ve been told.”
“Jesus, Winston! I didn’t think he was that bad.”
Jenny was visibly shaken. The colour had drained from her face and, for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She tried to focus on what Winston had told her, but her thoughts were a jumble and her heart was racing. She was glad when Winston leaned forward and took her hands again.
“Jen, are you alright?”
“Yeah … yeah, it’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all … Have you ever seen him hurt anyone?”
The revelations were too shocking to believe, and she found it difficult to accept that the man she lived with could be a brutal murderer.
“No, I’ve just heard it from the other guys,” said Winston. “Mind you, I’ve been on the receiving end of a slap once or twice.”
Jenny’s face was full of concern, the deep furrows evident on her forehead, and a tight line forming around her lips.
“Oh, not for ages though,” Winston added. “It was when I was younger. I was always cocking things up, but he trusts me a bit more now.”
“It’s a good job, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, like I say, we’ve just got to be really careful, Jen.”
It was fortunate for them both that Jenny had had time to compose herself when they heard the key turn in the lock. She flashed a brief, harried look at Winston before they prepared themselves, masks in place and bodies parted.
“Alright, mate?” asked Winston, as Leroy angled his head around the door. “I’d given up on you. I was just about to get off.”
“Yeah, looks like you’ve been here for a bit,” said Leroy, eying the empty coffee cups.
“I only stuck my head in to see if you were home, but Jenny offered me a coffee and we got talking.”
“Well it looks like she treats you better than she treats me. Are you going to get me a beer or what, woman?”
Jenny was shocked by Leroy’s angry outburst. Despite what she had been hearing from Winston, and although Leroy had changed since he had moved in with her, he had never spoken to her like this before. Then again, he was never in her company for long, as he spent increasing amounts of time away from home. She didn’t know what he got up to; he only ever told her he had business to deal with.
She wasted no time heading to the kitchen, and returning with a can of beer. He hadn’t offered a can to Winston, so she thought it best to follow his lead and not bother offering either.
“Here,” she said, handing Leroy the beer.
“What about our visitor? Are you not gonna give him one too? Eh, that’s an idea, Winston. How about a threesome?” Leroy laughed.
A look of horror crossed Jenny’s face as she awaited Winston’s response.
“Nah, not my scene, man. I’m greedy; I prefer my women all to myself.”
Winston’s attempt at bravado seemed to meet with Leroy’s approval and he let out a loud guffaw, which he quickly recovered from, then asked, “Are you gettin’ that drink for Winston or what, or are you just gonna stand around looking like a dick?”
“Alright, I’m going!”
When Jenny returned with the beer, Leroy asked, “What about the glasses?”
“But, you don’t usually have glasses.”
“Well, we’re fuckin’ having ’em now, so do as you’re told!” he sneered.
Jenny was forced to leave the living room again, to the sound of laughter. As she returned, she could hear Leroy and Winston talking.
“So, what’s up?” he asked Winston.
“Nowt, just thought I’d call and see my mate. Anything been happening?”
Leroy didn’t reply. Instead he turned his attention to Jenny again, as he shouted, “Jenny, doesn’t that fuckin’ dog want feeding or summat?”
“No, he had something to eat not long ago,”
“Well find
summat else to do then! Me and Winston have got business to talk about.”
Jenny fled to the kitchen, where she busied herself washing the dishes while fighting back tears of humiliation. To speak to her in such a condescending way was bad enough, but it was worsened by the fact that he had done it in front of Winston.
When she finished washing up, she scrubbed the work surfaces, using brisk strokes. The swift, mechanical action helped her to work out her annoyance. Then she cleared a shelf of the cupboard and scoured it clean, moving on to another, then another. All the while her mind was in turmoil. How the hell had she got herself into this situation?
By the time she had calmed herself down, Winston was leaving the house. She could hear him saying goodbye to Leroy. Her first impulse was to run after him to say their farewells. But she wouldn’t dare. It would be too suspicious. So she wiped her hands on the towel, and went to ask Leroy what he would like for tea.
“It’s getting a bit late now. You don’t have to bother cooking. D’you fancy a take-out? I’ll treat you if you like, and we can have a nice night in together. You, me and a few drinks. Best not have too many though,” he said, as he put one arm around her and patted her stomach with the other.
“Y-yes,” Jenny replied.
Jenny couldn’t believe the change in Leroy during the last half hour. At the same time, she was relieved that he was no longer in a foul mood. This was more like the man who had won her over when she started going out with him all those months ago. Seeing him like this made her think that perhaps the rumours Winston had heard were exaggerations.
She found it hard to believe that Leroy could be a killer. Alright, he wasn’t ideal. He stayed out too many nights, she never knew what he was up to and he wouldn’t tell her. But he couldn’t be that bad. He lived with her, for God’s sake! Surely she would know.
Jenny resigned herself to the thought that perhaps something had upset Leroy before he had come home. Nevertheless, she wasn’t happy about the way he had spoken to her, so she decided to tackle him about it.
“You’re in a better mood,” she commented. “What was wrong with you before? Had someone upset you? Only, I won’t stand for being spoken …”
A Gangster's Grip: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 2 Page 11
