by Sam Michaels
‘What about The Top?’
‘What about him?’ Slugs asked.
‘He obviously has a rapport with the Zammits.’
‘Yeah, he does, but he’s already spoken to them and they won’t make a deal with him. The Zammits want your blood and your only chance is Jacob Flowers.’
‘Why has The Top already spoken to them on my behalf?’
‘I dunno, Miss Garrett. I suppose because you’re a bit of a legend and he admires that, you know, what with you being a woman an’ all that.’
‘Let me speak to him.’
‘Who? The Top?’
‘Yes.’
Slugs sucked in a long breath as he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Garrett, but that won’t be possible.’
‘Why not?’
‘He don’t see no one. Not ever. I’m sure you’ve heard about his connections with the IRA. He can’t risk anyone being in a position where they’d be able to identify him. I hope you understand. So, anything you want to say to The Top will have to go through me.’
Georgina’s feelings had been correct. She’d guessed that she wouldn’t get access to The Top but she had a pressing question on her mind. She looked down at her boots and when she lifted her eyes, she blurted, ‘Was it The Top who killed David?’
Slugs, his eyes wide, turned away and he walked back towards the desk. She waited for an answer but nothing came. A short man with a thick mop of red hair came into the room, carrying a tray. Slugs indicated to him to leave the tray on the side and then the man scurried away.
Once the door closed again, Georgina continued. ‘Well, did he?’ she pressed, desperate to know the truth even though there was something inside her that wanted to run from it.
Slugs, now stood behind the desk, avoided her searching glare.
‘You must have known I’d want to find out what happened to him and Victor. Don’t bullshit me, Slugs. Did The Top kill David Maynard?’
Slugs swallowed hard and slowly nodded.
This wasn’t the response she’d wanted. It was hard to take in the fact that she was in the same house as the man who had killed David. It felt like she’d been punched in the stomach and her legs felt weak. She remembered this feeling when she’d seen Lash laid dead on the ground, a bullet in his chest.
‘And Victor?’ she asked shakily.
Slugs nodded again but still wouldn’t look her in the eye. Guilty conscience, she assumed. Slugs had worked for David but now worked for the man who had murdered him. He clearly had no integrity, which left her with no respect for him.
She licked her dry lips and tried to compose herself.
‘Get me out of here,’ she whispered to Johnny, hoping her legs wouldn’t give way until they were in the car.
Johnny leapt up and went to support her but she pushed him briskly away. She wouldn’t show weakness, not here. She marched towards the door without any further words to Slugs, Johnny trotting behind her. She just wanted to get out from being under the same roof as the man who had helped to destroy her life.
Once in the car, she handed Johnny the piece of paper that Slugs had given her. ‘Drive,’ she said, staring blankly ahead as she fought to hold back tears.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Garrett.’
‘I know. And so will The Top be when I’ve finished with him,’ she answered solemnly.
11
Jacob Flowers sat at his desk in his basement flat, under an impressive house above. He lived in the house with his wife, Elsie, but worked from his basement and would insist his wife spent her days downstairs too. This way, he could keep an eye on her and watch that she wasn’t looking at other men.
The house had three bedrooms, a sumptuous lounge, large dining room and was decorated to the highest order. It was exactly how Elsie Flowers liked it, though she rarely had the opportunity to show it off, except at Christmas and Easter when they would entertain guests from her church. Jacob detested the vicar and hated socialising but he’d be there as the loving husband and to ensure that his wife behaved appropriately. Though meek-mannered, there was nothing Elsie Flowers liked more than money and indulging her lavish tastes. She wore expensive clothes and precious jewels but Jacob was happy to oblige his wife. After all, she was his creation. He’d moulded her to what she was. He’d designed a virtuous woman, one with standards and good morals. A woman respected in the church for her charitable work. Immaculately presented and with impeccable manners, she appeared to be the perfect wife. But she’d once been nothing more than the child of a destitute woman who’d begged and whored herself to sailors.
He’d been a merchant when he’d first encountered Elsie’s mother begging in the Port of London. Something about the woman had struck him, she’d reminded him of his dead sister. Somewhat out of character for him, Jacob had showed the woman kindness by giving her a few bob now and then. Several months later, Elsie’s mother had turned up at his office, her face scabby and she’d struggled for breath. She’d pushed Elsie in front of her ragged skirts and pleaded with Jacob to take her, saying she was dying and there was no one to care for the girl. She’d promised that Elsie was a good girl and would clean and cook for her keep. The child was only nine years old, her blue eyes full of sadness and brimming with tears. Jacob had immediately dismissed any notion of caring for the girl, but two days later he found Elsie sitting on his doorstep and her mother’s body was discovered floating alongside a ship carrying African ivory.
He could have taken Elsie to an orphanage but after giving her a hot meal, she’d been quick to clean the dishes. So he’d allowed her to stay that night. And when he’d woken in the morning, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find she’d cleaned the house. As quiet as a mouse, she was. Never uttered a word. So, one night led to another which led to a week, a month and then a year.
Then one morning, six years after Elsie had arrived in his home, he’d looked over the top of his newspaper to see her reaching up to pull open the heavy drapes. The sunlight through the window silhouetted the profile of her slim body and he noticed the curve of her breasts. Her blonde hair glistened and when she turned to look at him with wide, innocent eyes, he’d found that her purity aroused him. From that day, he’d taken her as his lover, though had never penetrated her. Always compliant, Elsie had been happy to satisfy his unusual sexual desires. From then, Jacob had known that he wanted her to remain a virgin and soon married her. A small ceremony with no frills. After all, they weren’t celebrating their love, just a mutual need: she required caring for and he wanted to possess her.
He tapped out the tobacco from his pipe and stuffed in some fresh, thinking how, ten years later, the relationship had changed. Elsie no longer showed any enthusiasm when she saw to his sexual needs. It was mechanical on her part, merely going through the motions. It lacked excitement. Had it always been that way? He shrugged and supposed it was better than nothing and at least he was confident that she was remaining chaste and still pure. That thought stirred his passion, but the idea of another man touching his wife turned his stomach and he knew that if she ever allowed it, he’d slit her throat.
He heard the door open that connected the basement to the house, and was surprised it was already ten o’clock. Elsie appeared with a tray, carrying his usual breakfast of black tea, one slice of bread and a smoked kipper, an apple and two peppermints.
‘Good morning, Jacob,’ she said dolefully as she placed the tray on his desk.
He eyed her up and down, unhappy with her attire. ‘Your skirt is too short and your blouse is too tight. Go and change,’ he ordered.
Elsie slipped back up to the house while he ate his breakfast, annoyed at her for opting to wear a skirt that revealed so much of her calves and a blouse that accentuated her bosom. She should know better, and he was disappointed that he’d had to tell her. He’d reprimand her later and remind her of how the wife of an important accountant and businessman should dress.
Much to his irritation, his breakfast was interrupted by someone rapping on th
e front door to his basement flat.
‘Elsie… Elsie…’ he shouted.
She came hurrying into his office and he was pleased to see that she’d already changed her clothes to something that he deemed suitable. Her loose, dark blue dress was buttoned up the front to the neck and it hung just a few inches over her ankles. He thought the single row of pearls she wore gave her outfit an air of sophistication and he smiled, satisfied.
‘See who is at the door,’ he told her and then popped a peppermint in his mouth.
Moments later, Elsie came back looking flustered.
‘Well, who was it?’
‘It’s a lady, but she looks like a man. She said her name is Miss Garrett, and she wants to talk to you.’
‘Does she indeed. What are you standing there for? Show her in,’ he snapped.
Elsie rushed out while Jacob pushed his tray to one side and interlocked his long, thin fingers. He’d heard of Georgina Garrett. Just about everyone had. But he’d never had the desire to meet her. He found the thought of a woman conducting business quite repulsive. But if she was here, she must require his services and he wouldn’t turn away her money.
Elsie showed Miss Garrett into the room, followed by an extravagantly dressed man. Elsie hadn’t mentioned anyone accompanying Miss Garrett and he watched his wife, pleased when she took her position in a seat in the corner of the room and lowered her eyes to look at the floor. He turned his attention back to Miss Garrett. She looked masculine, her clothes those of a workman, and he wondered if she was one of those perverts who liked other women. Of course, if Miss Garrett was a she-man it would make sense and offered an explanation of her fierce reputation in Battersea.
‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Flowers,’ she said, unsmiling.
‘Please, take a seat,’ he offered, intrigued by the beauty he saw behind her awful clothes.
‘Thank you. This is my colleague, Mr Dymond. We’ve been sent by The Top as I understand you may be in a position to help with a small problem I have.’
‘Would you care to divulge your problem?’
‘It seems there has been a misunderstanding with the Zammits. A robbery was undertaken by my men who, unfortunately, hadn’t carried out their due diligence thoroughly which resulted in unwittingly turning over one of their operations.’
Jacob sat back in his chair, a smirk on his thin lips, and drummed his fingertips on his desk. Oh, Miss Garrett was going to make him a lot of money and he was incredibly gratified she’d come to him. ‘What do you know about me?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘As I thought, and that’s good because my work has to be conducted with the utmost discretion. I’m an accountant, a businessman and a negotiator. The very best. There are certain, shall we say, businesses, who will only work with me and me alone. Consequently, if I refuse to help you, you’ll be left high and dry.’
‘You’ll negotiate on my behalf?’
‘For a price and that price will be significant. I trust you have the funds to meet my expenses?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t know my prices.’
‘Whatever they are, I can afford them.’
‘Then I shall agree to negotiate on your behalf. I’ll expect fifty per cent payment in advance and the remaining monies due on completion of a satisfactory outcome. Cash.’
‘Fine. I’ll send the money to you this afternoon but in the meantime, the Zammits are a threat to the safety of my men. I want your assurance that no further attacks will occur while you are in the negotiation stages.’
‘You have my word. Here are my terms,’ Jacob said and scribbled down a figure that was twice as much as he’d normally demand. After all, the woman must be desperate to have come to him and he was sure he could milk her for a small fortune. When he handed her the invoice, she didn’t baulk and he wondered if he could have charged her even more. ‘My wife will see you out. I’ll expect payment this afternoon and to see you in my office five days from now.’
As Miss Garrett and Mr Dymond scraped back their chairs, Jacob’s eyes set on his wife. She momentarily glanced from under her lashes to look at Mr Dymond and then he noticed her cheeks flush. He knew it! He knew Elsie could be turned by a good-looking face! That quick glance, her reddened cheeks and flustered manner told him all he needed to know – his wife was capable of being a slut, but he wouldn’t stand for it. Oh no, Elsie Flowers wasn’t going to make a fool out of him, he’d make sure of it!
*
Johnny tightly gripped the steering wheel as a police car passed them and Miss Garrett sunk low in the passenger seat.
‘It’s all right, they’ve gone,’ he said, then asked, ‘How the hell are we gonna pay Jacob Flowers?’
‘For now, we’ll have to use the proceeds from the robbery. That’ll cover the first instalment.’
‘But the Zammits are gonna want that money back.’
‘Yes, Johnny, I’m fully aware of that but one step at a time. This will buy us some time while I work out where I’m going to get the rest of the money from.’
‘I’m sorry about all this, Miss Garrett.’
‘No more apologies, let’s just get it sorted,’ she said shortly.
They drove on for a few more minutes in silence and Johnny found himself thinking about Mrs Flowers. She seemed a shy and pretty little thing. There was something about her that reminded him of his first and only love, Daisy. God, he’d loved that woman with every ounce of his being and had nearly lost the plot completely when she’d died with the flu. Daisy had the same eyes as Elsie. He wondered how she’d ended up married to Jacob Flowers. The man was spindly with beady eyes and a long, pointed nose. He was sinister in his looks and nature. He couldn’t fathom what Mrs Flowers saw in him. ‘Bit of an odd couple, weren’t they?’ he said.
‘Yes, and I got the impression that she’s very much under his thumb. I’ve seen it before, men like him.’
‘What, you reckon he knocks her about?’
‘Without a doubt, the poor woman.’
Johnny sighed deeply. He hated the thought of any woman getting beaten by their husband. He’d seen his mother used as a punch-bag often enough by his stepfather. She’d hidden her bruises well but Johnny had known what was going on. He’d been too young to protect her, but it had all changed one day when, in a drunken rage, his stepdad had kicked off in front of Johnny’s older brothers. After a terrible fight, the three young men had sent their stepdad packing. His mother had been grateful but she’d had to work twice as hard to support them and had died before Johnny had turned fifteen. He missed his dear old mum and hated his stepfather for marring his memories of her. For every loving memory, there was a dark one too. A recollection of seeing his mum crying, cowering in a corner with his stepfather towering over her with clenched fists. If he ever set eyes on that man again, he’d happily put a bullet in his chest.
His mind drifted back to Mrs Flowers. ‘I don’t like the thought of him giving her a good hiding.’
Georgina’s head snapped round. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, forget it, Johnny. She’s a married woman, stay clear.’
‘No, I wasn’t thinking that,’ he protested, though he had to admit to himself that he did fancy her. She was the spit of his Daisy.
‘Good. We’ve got enough to be worrying about without you landing yourself in it by upsetting Jacob Flowers.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. And talking of things to be worrying about, how are we gonna get the police off your back? You can’t keep hiding and hoping they won’t find you.’
‘I’ve got something in mind but let’s square things with the Zammits first.’
Johnny smiled to himself. He should have guessed that Miss Garrett would have something up her sleeve to keep her out of prison, though he couldn’t imagine what. He assumed it had something to do with PC Batten. If it had been down to him, that copper would have been out on his ear. But Miss Garrett was clever and he didn’t doubt that she knew what she was doing. Christ, he though
t, there was so much going on. The Zammits were vying for his blood. Miss Garrett wanted vengeance against The Top. The police wanted her back behind bars. Life was never boring around her. And though the fear of being killed like Max should have been playing on his mind, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs Flowers.
*
Charlotte had been looking out the window and was relieved when she saw Johnny pull up with Georgina. She rushed to the door to let them in and Johnny pulled her to one side.
‘I’ll get rid of the blokes,’ he whispered, ‘she ain’t in a good mood. Slugs confirmed that it was The Top who killed Mr Maynard and Victor.’
Charlotte gasped and her heart sank. First Georgina had been denied seeing her children and now this. Georgina would put on a brave face, she always did, but Charlotte felt sorry for her.
Johnny quickly rounded up the men, reassuring them that Jacob Flowers would be negotiating with the Zammits on their behalf. They said farewell, leaving Gerty to rest in Charlotte’s bed. They couldn’t send the girl back to her house, not with Max’s corpse rotting there.
‘I’ll get off now as well and make the first payment to Flowers.’
‘Yeah, you do that and keep your eyes off his wife,’ Georgina replied.
Dog seemed to sense that Georgina was upset and sat beside her legs with his head resting on her lap. Charlotte didn’t know what to say. No words would calm Georgina’s simmering fury. All she could do was bring her sweet tea.
They sat quietly, each deep in their own thoughts. Charlotte’s mind had drifted and her stomach was fluttering at the thought of sharing a bag of chips with Tim later that evening. Georgina broke the silence.
‘I’ll get Dina to put Gerty up in her flat for now.’
With her feet tucked under her legs and a cup of hot tea in hand, Charlotte was brought back to reality and asked, ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I said, I’ll get Dina to put Gerty up for a while.’
