Riot Act

by Zoe Sharp

“How much better would he be feeling if he knew what you were really up to round here?”

  “Up to? I don’t know what you mean,” Ali squeaked. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “No?” I said, advancing grimly and planting my hip against his car door, just in case he got any ideas. “So you won’t mind if people round here find out what you were paying Harvey Langford to do? Keeping the crime figures bad enough for you to make a killing when this whole area gets redeveloped. Do they know you own half their houses, too?”

  “No, no!” If Ali’s voice got any higher he’d be attracting passing bats. “You’ve got it all wrong. Please! I must go now. I had nothing to do with—”

  He broke off abruptly, eyes swivelling wildly as he realised he’d been about to deny something he hadn’t been accused of yet.

  “Nothing to do with what? With Langford’s death?” I jumped straight in with a laugh that was gone before it had arrived. “Oh come on, Ali, he couldn’t have been hiding out at the site without you knowing about it and permitting it. Who was he afraid of?”

  I don’t know if Mr Ali was going to answer that one, because at that moment a mid-sized rock came whizzing past my ear and smashed into splintered fragments on the paving slabs a few feet away.

  Twenty-four

  Cursing, I instinctively ducked and spun round.

  Mr Ali didn’t need telling twice that this was a good time to make his getaway. He yanked open his car door, thumping it against my shoulder. The blow caught me off balance and sent me sprawling. He was into the driving seat with the engine fired and the gear lever shoved into first before I’d had time to recover. The tyres chirruped as he spun the wheels halfway along the street.

  Once he’d gone I got to my feet warily, keeping low, as though the overflowing black bin liner next to me was going to provide decent cover. I couldn’t see anyone nearby. After my somewhat frosty reception from Mrs Gadatra, I suppose being used for target practise was a logical progression, and I shouldn’t have been surprised about it.

  Or maybe someone else on Lavender Gardens had discovered Mr Ali’s treachery. Maybe the rock had been aimed at him. Maybe, if he’d hung around longer, we might have had a chance to find out . . .

  I waited, with the silence that came after Mr Ali’s dramatic departure punching and kicking at me. Eventually, I realised it was a case of move now, or stay there all day. Besides anything else, something in the bin bag next to me smelt ripe enough to make my eyes water.

  I weighed up the distance to the Patrol with my heart banging painfully against my ribs, but decided against making a run for it. It wasn’t likely to make much difference and, in the end, it boiled down to trying to hold on to my dignity.

  I nearly made it, too.

  I suppose I can’t have been more than half-a-dozen hopeful paces away from the Patrol. I had the keys out ready in my hand, thumb on the remote door lock button, when four bulky figures appeared from one of the ginnels to my right.

  My stride faltered, and I stumbled to a halt.

  “Miss Fox,” Ian Garton-Jones nodded as he closed in. “I didn’t expect to see you round here any more.”

  I couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed or not.

  He showed his teeth briefly as he stepped between me and the Nissan. Harlow and a man I didn’t recognise moved to cut off a line of retreat. West took station behind his boss’s shoulder, and leaned insolently on the Patrol’s front wing with his arms folded.

  I shrugged. “I’m just visiting,” I said.

  “Ah yes – Mrs Jamieson,” he said, and there was a certain amount of grim satisfaction in his voice. “Well, we’ve had a little chat with her, and you won’t be needed next time she goes away.”

  Did his idea of a “little chat” include thrown bricks, I wondered silently?

  “Nice vehicle,” he went on, shifting to stare in through the Patrol’s side window at the interior. He seemed to pause just a fraction too long with his gaze on that dull stain on the passenger seat. I shoved my hands into my pockets so he wouldn’t see the clenching of my fingers.

  Eventually he turned back to me. “He lets you drive it around, does he?”

  “Does who?”

  “Sean Meyer,” Garton-Jones said. “It is his vehicle, isn’t it?” He watched me carefully for a reaction, then added in a sly tone, “Maybe he just isn’t feeling up to driving at the moment.”

  He and his men exchanged nasty grins, the kind that sent a spasm of alarm rippling across my shoulder blades. I fought not to let it show.

  While Garton-Jones was talking, West had been casually nudging the mud flap behind the Nissan’s front tyre with the toe of his boot. The earth that was caked there dropped out onto the tarmac in small clods.

  Garton-Jones glanced down at them. “Been off-roading, have we?” he asked and when I didn’t answer he went on, “Lots of good places for that round here, so I understand. You know – green lanes, bits of waste ground, building sites . . .”

  The smile left his face as he said the last words, all pretence at good humour wiped away.

  Jesus, had he killed Langford just to frame Sean? Jacob had dismissed that scenario as being too drastic, too unbelievable. I wondered if he would change his mind now.

  But, if Garton-Jones was responsible, why give me what amounted to a confession? Unless they were going to make sure I wasn’t in any fit state to repeat it.

  I was almost surprised, then, when he stepped back from the door of the Patrol and let me open it. He moved in again quickly, though, getting right in my face. I prayed he wouldn’t look down, otherwise he couldn’t fail to miss the Glock in the door pocket.

  “I’m a reasonable man, Miss Fox,” he said, in much the same tone that he’d once used to tell me he was a violent man, too. “Grudges and feuds are all part of my business. Just tell Meyer to stay off my estate and this won’t go any further. OK?”

  Ah, so that was it.

  I glared at him without making any moves he could possibly take as a sign of acquiescence. Eventually, he just grinned, the action accentuating the tightness of the skin over his death’s head skull. He stepped back again with an arrogant wave of his hand, bored playing games with me.

  I bit my tongue and did as I was invited. Resisting the urge to mow down the lot of them was a difficult one, particularly since I was probably in an ideal vehicle to do so.

  Sometimes it’s just heroic, the self-control I have.

  ***

  Much to the obvious surprise of the policeman who’d warned me on the way into Lavender Gardens, I escaped from the estate without picking up any unexpected modifications to the Nissan’s bodywork. I gave them a cheery wave as I weaved between the panda cars, but this time I didn’t stop.

  Instead, I headed back into Lancaster. I drove through town concentrating too much on the actual mechanics of driving to give a great deal of thought to the little confrontation I’d just had with Garton-Jones and his men. But it was there, all the same, niggling away in the background.

  At least my driving seemed to be getting better with practise, and it was quite a revelation to suddenly have road presence. Other car drivers just didn’t try and cut me up like they invariably did when I was on the Suzuki.

  Ten minutes later I pulled up outside Attila’s place and killed the engine. I sat for a few moments before getting out, trying to work out how I was going to phrase my request to my boss.

  I had told Sean that I knew just the back-up I could call on before going to confront Jav, but now it came down to it I wasn’t sure if I had any right to ask.

  A loud knock on the side glass made me jump. Wayne was grinning at me through the window.

  I opened the door with a hand on my chest. “God, you frightened the life out of me!”

  “Sorry girl,” the black man said, still grinning. He had his coat collar turned up against the steady beat of the rain. Gym bag in hand, he was just leaving from his workout. “So, what’s with the motor? You finally get fed up of tha
t bike of yours, or did you just win the lottery?”

  “Neither,” I said, jumping down from my seat onto the gravel. “It’s Sean’s.”

  “What did you do, shoot him for it?” Wayne asked quietly then, and I realised that I still hadn’t shifted that damned gun out of the driver’s door pocket. Wayne’s eyes were riveted to it.

  I sighed. “No, but someone else did,” I said. I picked the Glock up and leaned over to shove it into the glovebox, slamming the lid. Then I shut the car door and rested my back against it.

  Wayne seemed to snap out of it once the gun had disappeared from his view. He put a meaty hand on my shoulder, and when I looked up I found his face full of genuine concern.

  “What’s going on girl?” he asked, brow furrowed.

  I jerked my head towards the gym door. “Come inside,” I said, “I’ve got to tell Attila all about it anyway and there’s no point in saying it twice.”

  The place was going through its usual early-afternoon lull when we walked in. Attila and Wayne were able to sit on a couple of the weights benches and listen to my story about Langford, Ali, Jav and Garton-Jones without an audience.

  Very little expression showed on either man’s face when I came to the part about finding Langford’s body, and about Sean being hit.

  I listened to my own voice calmly explaining it all as though I was going through a shopping list, and realised that it simply hadn’t sunk in. When it did finally register, I was probably going to come apart at the seams. I knew I couldn’t let that happen.

  Not yet.

  Now though, as I finished my tale, Wayne sat up straight and gave me a level stare.

  “What d’you need girl?” he said. He grinned in Attila’s direction. “Want us to go round there and sort out this Garton-Jones bloke?”

  “Not yet,” I said, throwing him a quick smile. “I’ve got to make sure he was the one pulling Jav’s strings. If he wasn’t, then there’s someone else involved in all this that I haven’t even considered yet.”

  “And you think you know where this Jav might be found?” Attila asked.

  “Apparently he plays a lot of snooker. I know Nasir was a member of one of the local snooker clubs and they used to play together. All I have to do is find out which one.”

  Attila stood up, muscles rippling under his T-shirt. He gestured towards the phone on the counter. “Find out,” he said. “I don’t like people shooting up my place, and then shooting up my friends. Find out, and I’ll help you put a stop to it.”

  They were brave words from a man as intrinsically gentle as Attila. Under the surface he’s a complete pacifist, with a tendency to go queasy at the sight of spilt blood. His own, particularly, but other people’s would usually do the trick.

  Wayne stood, also. “I’ve nothing on this afternoon girl,” he said casually. “I’ll give you a hand if you like.”

  I paused for a moment, not in hesitation, but in surprise that these two men should offer their support without reserve. Eventually, I nodded.

  “Thank you,” I said simply. As I headed for the phone I was aware of the sharp prickle of unshed tears in my throat.

  ***

  I tried Sean first, at Jacob and Clare’s. Clare answered the call, and told me the boys weren’t back yet.

  “Jacob rang in about twenty minutes ago,” she told me. “It’s Nasir’s bike all right, and they were going to go out to the scene before they come home, so they might be a while, I’m afraid.”

  “Never mind,” I said. “There’s someone else I can try.”

  Ringing Madeleine wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to say to Sean’s mother, if she picked up the receiver instead. In the event, I didn’t recognise the little voice who answered the phone.

  “Hello, hello?”

  “Hello,” I said carefully. “Who’s that?”

  “I’m Tara,” the voice said proudly, “and I’m nearly five.”

  Slowly, clearly, I asked for Madeleine, then listened as the handset was dropped on the floor and a minute or so of shouting and giggling went on in the background. I was just about to ring off when Madeleine came on the line, sounding out of breath.

  “Charlie!” she said sharply, cutting off my greeting. “Sean rang me earlier. How is he?”

  “He’s OK,” I said, cautious at her abrupt tone. “He and Jacob have gone out to look for the bike Roger was on, but—”

  “What?” Madeleine bit out. She lowered her voice as if wary of eavesdroppers and went on in a savage whisper. “You’ve let him go gallivanting around when he’s just been shot? He should be in hospital, for Christ’s sake! What were you thinking?”

  I felt my own temper flare and climb steadily. I made sure Wayne and Attila were far enough away not to be able to overhear my end of the conversation. They weren’t. Attila had drafted him in to relocate one of the far stacks of dumbbells.

  “Just back it off will you, Madeleine?” I snapped. “Don’t you think that getting him to a hospital wasn’t my first priority? I tried. He wouldn’t go. So I got him out of there before the police grabbed him, and I got one of the best surgeons in the country to come and sort him out. What more did you want me to do?”

  There was a long silence as both of us struggled to find some means of defusing the situation, of backing down.

  Neither of us succeeded.

  Eventually, necessity intervened. “Anyway, I need some information,” I said stiffly. “Where was that snooker club you said Nasir was a member of?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think that’s where we might find Jav.”

  There was another tense pause. “Where are you now?” she demanded.

  I let my breath out slowly through my nose, but none of my irritation went with it. “What does that matter? Just tell me the name of the place, Madeleine.”

  At that moment, Wayne accidentally let one of the dumbbells slip. The clatter it made when it hit the thinly-carpeted wooden flooring was loud, and distinctive.

  “You’re at the gym, aren’t you?” Madeleine guessed, and took my lack of reply as confirmation. “I’ll tell you when I get there. I’ll be with you in less than ten minutes.”

  “Madeleine, you are not coming with us,” I warned. Not this time, I added silently, but I should have saved my breath. She wasn’t listening.

  “I’m on my way, Charlie,” she tossed back at me, mulish. “Deal with it.”

  I started to argue, forcefully and with expletives, but that was a waste of time, too.

  “Aah, that’s a naughty word,” Tara’s voice said on the other end of the line. “I’m telling!”

  ***

  In fact, Madeleine didn’t tell me where the snooker club was when she arrived. She must have worked it out on the way over that as soon as she did I’d leave her behind.

  When we heard her pull up the three of us went outside, Attila locking up behind him. We found her still behind the wheel of another Grand Cherokee, bottle green and right-hand drive this time.

  “Hop in,” she said. “I’ll take you there. It’s easier than explaining.”

  The boys went for the back seat, leaving me up front with Madeleine. Wayne grinned at my attempts not to grind my teeth too obviously.

  My enamel was in particular danger of disintegration when I realised exactly where we were going. Explaining where the snooker club was would have taken her about ten seconds, because it was the one down near the new bus station, over the top of a café. I could have put my finger on it right away, given half a chance.

  She pulled up and switched the engine off, but before she could get out I put a hand on her arm.

  “We play this one my way,” I said firmly. “Don’t tell him anything. No names. If we frighten him he’ll just tell us crap to make us go away. So, we reason with him,” I went on, jerking my head in the direction of the rear seat, “with these two looking menacing in the background, just in case. OK?”

  She nodded. Reluctantly, but she nodded.


  “Don’t worry about me,” she said.

  I should have known.

  ***

  With me leading, and Madeleine close on my heels, the four of us pushed through the single shabby door which was the only part of the snooker club at ground level.

  The doorway led straight to a narrow staircase up to the first floor, then opened out into a huge room, dimly lit, with eight full-size tables lined up down the centre. I wondered for a moment if the floor had been reinforced to take the weight.

  Jav and a couple of his mates were playing at one of the tables at the far end. As soon as they recognised us, they started to scatter.