As Michael’s hard-hitting but truthful words stung her, Nancy burst into tears and ran from the room.
As darkness fell, a devastated Vinny opened up a bottle of Scotch. He had really thought today would be the day when the police got that all-important breakthrough, but even though Smithers had popped in earlier with an update, the Old Bill still seemed no nearer to finding his daughter.
Having just tucked his son into bed, Michael sat down opposite Vinny. ‘What did Smithers have to say, bruv?’
‘Smithers said tomorrow they’ll widen their search to all areas that surround the park. Not looking promising, is it? I think Molly’s dead now, I really do. I was hoping somebody had taken her to blackmail me, but if that were the case they’d have contacted me or the filth by now. I can’t bear the thought of never seeing her or holding her in my arms again, Michael. I loved her so fucking much. I just hope she didn’t suffer too much.’
Michael held his distraught brother in his arms. He wanted to offer some words of comfort, but this was no time for bullshit. Molly had been missing for over seventy hours and the chances of finding her alive were looking bleaker by the second.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Deborah Preston was awoken by her daughter’s terrified screams. ‘What is it, love? You had another nightmare?’
Joanna sat up, her face deathly white. ‘I dreamt the police knocked on the door and told me they had found Molly’s body. It was awful and so real. I just want my baby back. I miss her so much.’
Feeling totally helpless, Deborah held her trembling daughter in her arms. She had not left Joanna’s side since she had found out Molly was missing, but each day was becoming harder to deal with. Jo would not eat and was wasting away before her very eyes. Stroking her daughter’s hair, Deborah kept hearing over and over the words Johnny had said when he phoned last night: ‘I truly fear the very worst now, Deb. You need to prepare Jo for that news in the kindest possible way. Breaks my heart to say this, but that beautiful child I never even had the pleasure of meeting is more than likely dead.’
Ahmed picked up the phone. ‘It’s me, Carl. I’ve had the guy who I’m buying the bar off in Spain on the phone to me this morning. He wants to complete the deal early, so I need the rest of that dosh you owe me.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you, Carl? You will not be getting the rest of your dosh until the job has been completed. That was the deal.’
The patronizing tone of Ahmed’s voice was enough to make Carl Thompson see red. He was no fool and would not suffer being treated as if he were. ‘See you, you Turkish cunt. You will regret the day you ever met me, trust me on that one. I’ve got big plans for you, boyo.’
When Carl cut him off, Ahmed rang Burak at the restaurant and related the conversation. ‘I told you I did not trust him, didn’t I, Ahmed? I said you should be careful. Why not just pay him another ten grand to keep him sweet?’
‘Nobody threatens me and gets away with it, Burak. I would not give the cheeky cunt the drippings of my nose now, let alone another ten grand. I have a better idea. I shall call him back, pretend that I am going to pay him off and arrange to meet him at the yard in Barking. Then, when he turns up, we will kill him.’
Old Mr Arthur was on his way to the bookies for his daily bet when he spotted a familiar face. He had found it quite difficult to help the police produce a photofit, but he knew he’d recognize that face again if he were to see it in person.
Mr Arthur looked down as he passed the boy, then quickly turned around. He would lose sight of him if he were to ring the police, so the only alternative was to follow him. People might take him for a daft old bugger, but he’d never forgotten his army training. Mr Arthur was sure he could deliver the goods.
Brenda Butler poured herself another glass of wine. She had been furious over that News of the World article, and even more incensed that her mother and Vinny had ordered her not to confront Freda over her comments. Why shouldn’t she have it out with the old cow? She had every bloody right to.
‘Mum, me and Tommy are bored. Can you take us out somewhere?’ Tara asked, with a sulky expression on her face.
Brenda stared at her daughter. She’d kept the kids home from school today, and now wished she hadn’t because Tara wouldn’t stop whingeing. ‘You wanna go out, we’ll go out. Go and get your jacket and Tommy’s.’
‘Where we going? Pictures?’ Tara asked hopefully.
‘No. We’re going to visit that fucking old witch who just happens to be your great grandma.’
When the boy got on the bus, Mr Arthur did the same. They briefly locked eyes as Mr Arthur sat down opposite him, but there was no recognition in the boy’s. He’d had his hair cut, but those evil green eyes were unforgettable.
Mr Arthur pretended to be engrossed in picking out his horses as the bus pulled away. It didn’t look as though he’d be able to place his bet now though. He had far more important things to do.
As Nancy walked towards the phonebox, she thought back to the past. She had not spoken to Dean Smart for ages and had not been overly keen to reignite their friendship, but yesterday’s argument with Michael had changed that.
There was no way Nancy could admit to anybody that Michael had been proud of Daniel for smashing another boy’s head against the railings. Her mum would worry, and her father and Christopher would say ‘I told you so.’ Joanna was the only one Nancy would have confided in, but the current circumstances meant that was out of the question.
Nancy could still remember clearly the conversation she’d had with Dean the last time she had seen him. She had been unwell and in hospital at the time. ‘Your Michael is the best of the bunch, but the core of that family is rotten. If I were you, I would run for the hills. You were never cut out to be part of the Butler clan, and neither was I.’
Taking a deep breath, Nancy stepped inside the phonebox. For the first time in a very long while, she was looking forward to speaking to a man who actually understood her.
Freda Smart was no shrinking violet. Like her idol Maggie Thatcher, she considered herself to have more balls than most men. That is why even though she knew it must be a Butler smashing the hell out of her front door, she still chose to open it.
‘This is your great granny. You know, that evil old bag that wrote the article in the newspaper yesterday. She is the reason why you could not go to school today. Same morals as your father,’ Brenda shrieked.
Freda stared at the mortified look on the faces of the two children. Tara had got so big since the last time she had seen her, and Tommy looked like Dean had when he was about the same age. It was obvious Brenda was inebriated and it was only early afternoon. ‘Take Tara and Tommy home now, Brenda. If you have an issue with me, we can talk another time.’
‘An issue! A fucking issue! I have a major one with you, Freda. How dare you announce to the nation that you rue the day that wanker of a grandson of yours got involved with me? Seeing as he walked away without a care in the world when I was pregnant with Tommy, I think it is me who had the lucky escape, don’t you?’
When Tara started to cry, Freda wanted to hug the child, but chose not to. Her next-door neighbour had come out to see what all the fuss was about and so had Joe across the road. ‘Do yourself a favour, Brenda, and take those children home before somebody calls the police. Don’t want to get them taken away from you for being an unfit mother, do you now?’
When their drunken mother lunged towards their great-grandma, Tara and Tommy both screamed out in terror.
Having changed buses when the boy did, Mr Arthur was doing his best to keep him in sight as he followed him down the street. His old combat training was coming back to him, and he was pleased to find that he hadn’t lost the art of tracking the enemy without giving the game away. With his legs aching far more than usual, Mr Arthur was delighted when the boy took a detour into what he imagined to be a front garden. Obviously, he was too far away to make out the door number, but he could clearly see a green car and a
lamppost very close to where the boy had disappeared.
Mr Arthur scuttled towards the green car as fast as he could. He only hoped there was no alleyway between the houses, because if the boy had succeeded in giving him the slip it would be a morning wasted. And if it turned out that horse he’d been on his way to have a flutter on came in a winner, he’d have lost a bloody fortune too.
Queenie Butler opened the front door and was shocked to see a policeman standing there with Tara and Tommy either side of him. ‘Have they done something wrong?’ Queenie asked, alarmed. Both of her grandchildren were looking sheepish and her first thought was they had been caught stealing, but before the policeman had chance to reply, Tara piped up: ‘Me and Tommy never did anything wrong. Mum did though. She got drunk, then hit Nanny Freda.’
When he couldn’t get hold of Carl Thompson by phone, Ahmed drove to the flat in Emerson Park that he had leased for six months and allowed Carl to live in. The gaff belonged to a Turkish associate of Ahmed’s and had been dead cheap to rent compared to other properties in the area.
Feeling slightly edgy because of the conversation they’d had earlier, Ahmed took a deep breath as he pressed the buzzer. When he received no answer, he then pressed the buzzers of the other eight flats in the block.
‘Yes, can I help you?’ one of the residents asked.
‘I have come to visit my pal, Richie. He lives in flat seven,’ Ahmed replied. He had instructed Carl never to use his real name.
‘Richie moved out earlier today. I saw him leaving with his belongings.’
Instead of thanking the lady who had just given him the vital information, a worried Ahmed ran back towards his car mumbling expletives.
DI Smithers stared at his colleague in amazement. Even though Mr Arthur had not been the greatest at helping put a photofit together, Smithers had never doubted him as a witness. ‘What’s the address?’
DS Townsend handed him the piece of paper. ‘There you go, boss. Mr Arthur is not sure of the exact house number, but insists it is one out of those six. He swears blind it was the same boy who was sitting opposite the club the day Molly went missing – and gut instinct tells me he might just be right.’
Kimmy and Lindsey Pollard were forbidden by their parents to go anywhere near where they currently were. Their dad said gypsies owned the land and it was a very dangerous place. However, both Kimmy and Lindsey were very fond of the tethered horses, which is why they regularly brought them carrots. The poor creatures looked so sad and always seemed hungry.
‘What’s that over there?’ Kimmy asked her sister.
Lindsey ran over to the object, picked it up and waved it in the air. ‘It’s a doll!’
‘Give it to me. I saw it first,’ Kimmy demanded.
Lindsey clutched the doll tightly to her chest. ‘No. I picked it up. Finders keepers.’
Ahmed and Burak Zane were worried men as they headed towards Carl Thompson’s previous address. The phone number was no longer valid, but Ahmed knew that Carl’s ex-girlfriend owned the gaff, and he was hoping Carl had gone back there.
‘I do not know why you allowed Carl to live in the flat in Emerson Park, Ahmed. I said at the time, there was no need to lease it.’
‘Yes, there was, Burak. Vinny Butler is no man’s fool and I was worried, if he had an inkling that something was not right, he would be knocking on the flat door. That is why I told Carl to tell his neighbours his name was Richie Simpson. Butler could have popped around any time and caught us out. And what if his arrest had gone wrong? I did not want Vinny storming round there the following day and finding out that Richie had never existed or lived there in the first place. That would have put us right in the shit.’
‘I have a feeling we are going to struggle tracking down this bastard.’
‘Burak, I know he is still in contact with his ex, so we will find him. Let’s change the subject for a bit, and talk about Vinny’s new obsession instead, shall we?’
‘Aw, is that poor little Molly?’
‘Nope. It’s Eddie Mitchell. As much as Vinny is still missing poor little Molly, he has not stopped bragging about Mitchell’s visit either. Thinks he is well in with that family now. Keeps saying how charismatic Eddie is. Apparently Mitchell reminds him of himself.’
Burak chuckled. ‘He really rates himself, doesn’t he?’
‘Yep. Turned all religious and serious on me last night after a few Scotches. Reckons Molly’s disappearance was God’s way of paying him back for flooding the streets with drugs. He said he wants out.’
‘Really? Do you think he is onto us?’
‘No, Burak, his head is just in a mess. It was the perfect opportunity for me to tell him that I was pulling out too though. I said that we’d had a good enough run and I had been pondering for a while whether to call it a day. I told him that greedy people always get caught in the end and I wanted to build a hotel in Turkey.’
‘Was he OK about it?’
‘Yes, he was cool. I told him I would reserve the finest room at the hotel and he could use it for a holiday whenever he wished.’
Burak smirked. ‘Perhaps you should invite Molly too?’
DI Smithers knocked on the door of number seventy-one. The house was on the street in Poplar that Mr Arthur had followed the boy to, and the bright green Capri that he had described was parked right outside it.
When a pleasant-looking plump lady in her sixties answered, Smithers flashed his badge and asked if he and Townsend could come inside to ask her some questions. ‘Of course you can. My name’s Janet, by the way. I bet I know what you’re here about – it’s that menace next-door-but-one, isn’t it? Sick of that bloody loud music, we are. He has that racket on full-blast every time his gran goes out and it’s so unfair on poor old Jack next door. He’s in his eighties and has terminal cancer, you know.’
When Smithers explained that he had not called about the music, but was trying to track down a dark-haired lad who was thought to live close by, Janet was even more helpful. ‘Got to be the one I’ve just told you about. Jamie, his name is. Apart from Margaret at number sixty-seven whose son has Down’s Syndrome, he’s the only teenage boy living in this row of houses. Between me and you, I don’t like his nan much either. Flash old cow, Shirley is. Rumour has it, that grandson of hers has not long been out of a detention centre, so I do hope yous two put him back in there sharpish.’
Smithers pulled the photofit out of his pocket. ‘Does this look anything like him, Janet?’
‘Yeah, it does look similar. Jamie’s nose isn’t as pointed as the one in your photo and his face is more round, but I would definitely say it was him. Exactly the same hairstyle – or it was. Saw him yesterday and he’s had it cut short. So, what’s he supposed to have done wrong?’
‘We’re not sure yet, Janet. Hopefully we shall find out very soon though. Thank you so much for your information. Do you know Jamie or his grandmother’s surname, by any chance?’
‘No. Shirley’s a funny woman, keeps herself to herself and is very secretive. Wouldn’t surprise me if she had a past and was hiding something an’ all.’
Smithers and Townsend glanced at one another as they left the house. Both were thinking the exact same thing. Detention centre, new haircut. Surely they had finally struck gold?
Ahmed had a good look around, but could see no sign of Carl Thompson’s car.
Donna was the name of Carl’s ex-bird and apparently they had only split up because Carl couldn’t handle her twin sons from a previous relationship. Carl had once told him that, even though he couldn’t see the pair of them getting back together, he still had strong feelings for Donna, which was why she had been staying around his flat a couple of nights a week.
When Ahmed knocked at the door, he recognized Donna immediately. She was half-caste and very beautiful. He had only met her once before, when he had visited Carl at her house to check that he lived where he said he did. ‘Hello, Donna. I don’t know if you remember me, but I visited you to speak business
with Carl just before you split up.’
Donna looked perplexed. ‘Carl who?’
‘Carl Thompson, your ex. You were here, Donna, when I visited Carl. So were your twin boys.’
‘Oh him. Yeah, I remember now. I didn’t actually know Carl that well to be honest. I had only met him about a week before you came round here. He seemed keen on me and we went out for a meal. Then he asked me to do him a favour. He said that you were coming round to talk business and he wanted me to pretend that we were a proper couple. He offered me five hundred quid, and bought my boys a load of toys. I was a bit skint at the time, so couldn’t really say no.’
‘Who is it, Don?’ asked a tall black guy who sauntered into the hallway.
‘Just some pals of a bloke I barely knew. This is my boyfriend, Steve,’ Donna informed the rather shocked-looking men on her doorstep.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ Burak ordered, tugging his cousin’s arm.
Ahmed was speechless as he walked back towards the car. Carl had been recommended to him by a very trustworthy contact as one of the best con artists he had ever worked with. It had never occurred to Ahmed the guy would be good enough to con him.
‘Told you not to trust an Englishman again, didn’t I?’ Burak reminded his cousin.
Unable to stop himself, Ahmed grabbed his cousin roughly. ‘Vinny would not have trusted another Turk, how many times do I have to tell you that? So, stop fucking blaming me, OK?’
‘What do we do now?’
‘We find the cunt, cut his lying tongue out of his mouth, then watch him die a slow painful death.’
When Smithers and Townsend introduced themselves, then asked if they could speak to her grandson, Shirley’s heart lurched. When her daughter had disowned Jamie and refused to let him come home after his release from the detention centre, she had taken him in out of the goodness of her heart. But she had always warned him that if he brought trouble to her door, he would be straight out on his ear.
Payback Page 38
