Streetwise

by Roberta Kray

  Danny took the other envelope. He didn’t bother opening it to count the money. He knew it would all be there. ‘Anybody ask you to?’ He got to his feet too. ‘It’s been a pleasure doing business. Let me walk you out.’

  ‘There’s no need for that.’

  ‘Oh, I insist.’ He weaved between the tables until they were at the door and then out in the foyer. He knew that it wouldn’t take Squires long to uncover his identity, but this didn’t concern him. Why should it? If anything, it made it even more unlikely that his victim would go to the law. Once Squires discovered that he was part of the notorious Street family, he would think twice about doing anything stupid.

  It was this feeling of being able to do as he liked, of being invincible, that was the real turn-on for Danny. He savoured the sensation as they walked along the red carpet towards the main entrance. Squires, eager to be rid of him, hurried forward.

  Danny gave a nod to Solomon Vale as they passed through the door and stepped out into the oblong of light on the forecourt. ‘Need a cab?’ he asked Squires.

  ‘No.’

  Danny stopped to light a cigarette before he followed Squires to the dimly lit far corner of the car park. The spaces, clearly marked, were supposed to be for staff only, but he supposed he could overlook it on this occasion. Squires took out his keys and beeped open the doors of a racing green Land Rover Discovery.

  ‘Nice motor,’ said Danny as he ran his hands along the gleaming bodywork.

  ‘What do you want?’ Squires said. ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’

  Danny took a long draw on his fag and grinned back at him. ‘Nothin’, mate. Nothin’ at all. No need to be so jumpy.’

  Jeremy Squires had one hand on the door when Danny heard the noise. Three loud cracks in quick succession, like a car backfiring. And then the sudden pain in his right arm – sharp, hot, agonising. The cigarette slipped from his fingers and as he bent over, grasping his arm with his left hand, he was aware of Squires dropping like a stone.

  Danny’s brain, raddled with coke, took a moment to process what was happening. Shit, shit, shit. He’d been shot. They’d both been shot. He threw himself on the ground, down by the wheels of the Discovery. Squires was close by and he wasn’t moving; he was face down with a couple of holes in his back. Was he dead? Jesus, was the fucker dead?

  Danny kept his head down in case the bastard with the shooter was still hanging around. He was aware of the noise of the traffic, of the faint sound of the music coming from the club. What he couldn’t hear was any sign of life from Squires. Not a moan, not a groan, not a single bloody breath.

  Solomon came flying across the forecourt, his boots scrunching on the gravel. ‘What the —’ He crouched down by the two men, his eyes wide with alarm. He glanced over his shoulder and then back at them. ‘You okay?’ he asked, staring at Danny. ‘What happened? What the hell happened?’

  ‘Do I fuckin’ look okay?’ The blood was pouring down his arm now, covering his hand in red. He could feel a throbbing, a rhythmic painful pounding that made the breath catch in his throat.

  ‘Stay cool. Help’s on its way, man.’ He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled 999. While he was talking, he leaned over and placed a couple of fingers against Squires’s neck. ‘Still with us, but not much of a pulse.’

  While Solomon had the phone pressed to his ear, Danny gradually became aware of the increasing activity around them. People, alert to an incident, were starting to gather. He could hear the murmur of curious voices, the shuffling of feet. It wouldn’t be long before half of Shoreditch had come to get an eyeful. And as this thought sank in, he had another more urgent one. Christ, the envelope with the photographs was still in Squires’s pocket! Knowing that he had to get it back before Old Bill turned up, he waited until Solomon had got off the phone and then demanded, ‘Get rid of the fuckers! Move them back. Clear some space.’

  As Solomon stood up to drive back the onlookers, Danny scrambled desperately towards Squires. Could anyone see? Was anyone watching? He tried to use his own body as a shield, to pretend that he was trying to help the man. In order to get hold of the envelope he had to release his grip on his injured arm. The blood flowed down on to Squires’s jacket, adding to the dark stain that was already spreading.

  Panic started to flood his veins. Once the law found the photos, it wouldn’t take them long to find Silver and then the game was truly up. He tried to dig his fingers under the body, but the guy was a dead weight and with only one usable arm – and that was his left – he didn’t have the strength to shift him. He felt his breath coming in short fast pants. Desperate, he lay down beside Squires and shoved one leg roughly under his hip. Eventually, he managed to lever up the body and scrabble underneath until he found the envelope.

  Danny now had the photos, but his relief was short-lived. What the hell was he going to do with them? He looked frantically around, knowing that the cops would go over the ground with a fine toothcomb. He couldn’t hide them and he couldn’t keep them on him. There was only one other alternative. ‘Sol,’ he hissed. ‘Come here, come here.’

  Solomon Vale crouched down beside him again. ‘Boss?’

  ‘Take this,’ he said, thrusting the blood-splattered envelope into his hands. And then he remembered the money. He’d better get rid of that as well. He reached into his pocket, wincing with pain and passed that envelope over too. ‘Keep them safe, huh?’

  Solomon didn’t ask any questions. He unzipped his leather jacket, slipped the envelopes inside, and zipped it up again.

  Danny struggled out of his jacket, folded it over and used it to try and stem the flow of blood from his arm. He pressed down hard and felt his brains begin to spin. He put his head between his knees, retched twice and then threw up over the shiny rear wheel of the Discovery.

  28

  Valerie Middleton was ploughing through what appeared to be an endless heap of paperwork when her mobile started ringing. She glanced at the phone and smiled. ‘Jeff Butler,’ she said, picking up. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘Ah, the pleasure’s all mine. How are you, Val? Haven’t seen you for a while.’

  ‘That’s because they’ve locked me up in a small room and won’t let me out until all the overtime sheets have been done.’

  ‘Then this is your lucky night,’ he said. ‘I’ve just got you a get-out-of-jail-free card.’

  ‘Oh, sounds good. Tell me more.’

  ‘There’s been a shooting at Belles, two casualties, and one of them is Danny Street.’

  Valerie’s posture instantly changed. She sat up straight, every part of her alert. ‘Fatal?’

  DCI Butler gave a low laugh. ‘If I didn’t know you better, Inspector, I might have thought there was a hint of hope in that question. But no, not fatal, not for Mr Street at least. It’s not looking so good for the other guy, though. Jeremy Squires. Do you know him?’

  ‘Squires?’ she said, surprised. ‘Yes, he runs a business in Kellston. My God, he’s been shot?’ She paused for a second. Jeremy Squires was a respectable local businessman, a member of the Rotary Club and a generous donor to the Police Benevolent Fund. ‘Was it Street? Did he do it?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but look why don’t you come down and we’ll go through it all when you get here. We’re at the hospital, waiting to talk to him.’

  Valerie was already on her feet. ‘I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘I’ll be with you soon.’ She thanked him for the call and hung up. Quickly, she grabbed her coat and bag and went out into the incident room. ‘Laura, we’ve got a shout.’

  Twelve minutes later they were striding along the hospital corridors. They made their way to the Accident and Emergency Unit, which was rapidly filling up. It wasn’t even nine o’clock and already the doctors and nurses were run off their feet. They came across DCI Jeff Butler feeding coins into a drinks machine.

  ‘Hey, good to see you again,’ he said. ‘Fancy a drink?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’ve tasted tha
t stuff and only just lived to regret it.’

  ‘Well, I’m desperate. So long as it’s hot and wet, it’ll do for me.’

  ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  Butler picked up his plastic cup of tea and grinned. ‘Cheers.’

  Valerie smiled back at him. She liked Butler. He was in his mid-forties, a placid, unflappable Yorkshireman who took things in his stride and was rarely fazed by the trials and tribulations of the job. He worked out of Shoreditch, where Belles was located, but when it came to dealing with the Streets the two stations often collaborated.

  ‘This is DS Laura Higgs,’ she said, making the introductions. ‘Laura, this is DCI Butler.’

  ‘Just call me, Jeff. Nice to meet you, Laura.’

  ‘You too.’

  Butler took a sip of the tea and pulled a face. ‘Right, let’s find somewhere to park ourselves and I’ll get you both up to speed.’

  They carried on a little way up the corridor until they came to a small row of blue plastic chairs. Butler sat down and immediately leaned forward. ‘To be honest, we don’t know that much yet. Only that it happened at around eight fifteen. They’ve taken Squires into theatre – he was shot twice – and it isn’t looking good. He was conscious when they brought him in, but only just.’

  ‘And Danny Street?’ Valerie asked.

  ‘Oh, he’ll be okay. It’s only a flesh wound, nothing serious. They’re patching him up now. We should be able to see him soon.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed at the welcome committee.’

  Butler shifted up his broad shoulders. ‘Even Danny Street probably takes exception to being shot.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean he’ll tell us anything, though. I take it we’re presuming that he was the intended victim and that Squires just got in the way?’

  ‘Seems the most likely scenario, unless there are things about Mr Squires that we don’t know.’

  Valerie gave a nod. ‘What on earth was he doing at Belles in the first place?’

  Blunt looked at her and grinned again. ‘What do most men go there for? It sure as hell isn’t for the witty conversation.’

  ‘But Squires?’ she said. ‘He doesn’t seem the type. And it doesn’t quite fit in with the image he likes to project – you know, family man, pillar of the community.’

  ‘Maybe he had a secret life.’

  ‘Not very secret if he was hanging around Belles. Anyone could have seen him there.’

  ‘Did he say anything before he went into theatre?’ Laura asked. ‘Or in the ambulance?’

  Butler shook his head. ‘Not as far as I know.’

  Laura Higgs stood up and gazed along the corridor. ‘Right, I’ll see if I can find the paramedics who brought him in. If he was conscious, he might have told them something.’

  Butler watched as she strode off and then turned to look at Valerie again. ‘So what happened to Swann? I thought you two were inseparable.’

  ‘On holiday,’ she said. ‘In Clacton.’

  ‘Clacton? In November?’

  ‘Don’t ask.’

  Butler sipped on his tea for a while before saying, ‘I’ve got a couple of lads down at Belles taking statements from the punters and people who were passing by. We don’t know for sure that Squires was actually inside the club yet. He could have just parked his car on the forecourt, come back to pick it up and found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  ‘What are the chances?’

  ‘Slight,’ he said. ‘Of all the places to leave your motor, Belles would hardly come top of the list. Anyway, there are security cameras on the building. We’ll be able to see if he went in and out. Unfortunately, they only cover the space directly in front of the entrance and not the far part of the car park.’

  ‘And what was he doing with Danny Street? That doesn’t add up. It doesn’t make any sense at all.’

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe Mr Street can enlighten us.’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Valerie said. ‘He’s hardly known for his burning desire to help the police. And if something dodgy was going on between him and Squires, he won’t want us to know about that either.’

  ‘Maybe we’ll catch him before the shock wears off. No one likes getting hit by a bullet, no matter how crooked they are.’

  ‘What about Squires’s wife? Has she been told?’

  ‘Amanda,’ he said. ‘Yeah, we finally managed to track her down. She’s been informed. She’s on her way in.’

  ‘I think I met her once at some charity do. God, this is going to be a nightmare for her. Not only has her husband been shot, but he’s been shot outside a sleazy lap-dancing club.’

  ‘Maybe he made a habit of it. Maybe he’s not quite as squeaky clean as he’d like everyone to believe.’

  Valerie gave him a look.

  ‘Got to keep an open mind,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t be the first wife to decide she’d had enough.’

  ‘And bump him off?’

  ‘Or pay someone else to do it.’ Butler placed the still half-full cup on the seat beside him. ‘You were right about the tea. It’s filthy stuff.’

  It was another five minutes before a young PC emerged from a side room and approached them. ‘They’re finished now, guv,’ he said to Butler. ‘You can go in and talk to him.’

  29

  Danny Street was sitting on the side of the bed, looking decidedly sorry for himself. His right arm was heavily bandaged. He glanced up as they came in and scowled. ‘Ah, for fuck’s sake. What do you want?’

  Valerie smiled at him. ‘That’s not much of a welcome, Danny.’

  ‘I’ve just been shot. You think I’m fit to talk to you lot?’

  Butler sat down beside him. ‘It’s a minor injury. You’ll live. Which is more than might be said for your pal, Squires.’

  Danny narrowed his eyes. ‘Squires? Is that his name? He ain’t my pal. I hardly know the geezer.’

  ‘You just happened to be standing next to him when someone decided to try and take you out.’

  ‘What makes you think it was me they were after?’

  ‘Just a wild guess,’ Butler said.

  Danny shook his head. ‘Nah, I don’t reckon so. I’m not the one who ended up with two bullets in me back.’

  Valerie leaned against the wall and folded her arms. ‘So, do you want to tell us what happened, Danny?’

  ‘Nothin’ to tell, love,’ Danny said. ‘One minute I’m standing there, then I hear the noise, three bangs… one, two, three… next thing, he’s on the ground and I’ve got blood pouring out me arm.’

  Valerie didn’t respond to the ‘love’. She knew he was only trying to wind her up. ‘Perhaps we could go back a bit. What was Jeremy Squires doing there in the first place?’

  Danny’s lips slid into a contemptuous grin. ‘Jesus, I think even you can manage to work that one out.’

  ‘Are you saying he was a regular?’

  ‘No idea,’ Danny said. ‘I ain’t seen him there before, but that don’t mean nothin’. I don’t spend much time at Belles these days. Might be a regular, might not.’

  Butler shifted on the bed. ‘So take us through what happened.’

  ‘Starting at the beginning,’ Valerie said. ‘From when you first noticed him.’

  Danny glanced from one to the other. ‘Is he going to make it, this Squires guy? How bad is he?’

  ‘Why?’ Butler asked. ‘You worried about what he might say?’

  ‘Why should I be worried? I’ve got nothin’ to hide. I’m the innocent victim here.’

  ‘Well, that’s a first,’ Butler said.

  Danny scowled at him. ‘You want my help or not?’

  ‘Just get on with it, will you?’

  Danny waited a while as if his feelings were hurt and he needed some time to recover. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘This is how it went. Sol comes over to my table at around eight o’clock with this grey-haired geezer I’ve never seen before. Bloke wants to talk to me, apparently. So I tell him to take a pew,
and Sol clears off. Anyway, turns out he’s parked his motor in the Staff Only spaces on the forecourt and wants to make sure it’ll still be there when he leaves – not towed or clamped, right?’

  Valerie heaved out a sigh, not even attempting to hide her scepticism. ‘Oh, come on, Danny. You really expect us to believe that?’

  ‘It’s the truth, I’m telling you. This guy’s in love with his motor, a brand-new Discovery it is. Can’t bear the thought of anything happening to it.’