Streetwise

by Roberta Kray

  ‘And did you speak to her?’

  ‘In passing. We said hello, not much else. It was too busy. They had a good turnout. She was showing people around, dealing with the buyers. We were doling out the booze.’

  ‘And how did she seem?’

  ‘Fine, but like I said, I barely spoke to her.’

  ‘And when the show was over?’

  ‘We packed up and left. That was it.’

  Valerie glanced at Butler. She knew that Wilder had reached the limit on what he was prepared to tell them. He had his story and he was sticking to it. They couldn’t prove that he was lying, any more than he could prove that he was telling the truth. The law, however, was on his side. Without any evidence, there was nothing they could accuse him of.

  ‘Okay,’ said Butler, rising to his feet. ‘That’s it for now. Thanks for your time. If you remember anything else, perhaps you’ll let us know.’

  Valerie stood up too. ‘One last thing. Do you know a woman called Ava Gold?’

  Guy shook his head. ‘No, I’ve never heard of her.’

  ‘She was a friend of Lydia’s – in her late twenties, dark hair, dark eyes, a pretty girl, Italian-looking. She was at the show on Thursday.’

  ‘Was she? Sorry, it doesn’t ring any bells.’

  ‘Maybe Noah would remember her. Is he here today?’

  Guy glanced at his watch. ‘In an hour or so. I’ll ask him if you like.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Valerie and Jeff Butler left the bar and stepped outside on to the pavement. A freezing wind swept along the high street, the icy air stinging their faces. Butler turned up the collar of his coat. ‘Out in the cold,’ he said. ‘The story of our lives.’

  ‘He knows more than he’s saying.’

  Butler gave a weary sigh. ‘They always know more than they’re saying. That’s the trouble with this damn job.’

  48

  Tuesday morning dawned grey and cold with a thin mist hanging over the rooftops. Ava stood by the kitchen window and gazed down on the empty market square. She’d got up early, unable to sleep, and for the past hour the hands of the clock had moved around the face at a snail’s pace. It was only twenty past seven and she wasn’t due to pick up Chris until ten o’clock.

  Before going to work, she planned to head over to the Mansfield Estate to see her dad and drop off some provisions. He was down with the flu, full of aches and pains and in a sorry state. She had visited him yesterday, early in the evening, and taken over soup and rolls, aspirin, whisky, honey and lemon. She didn’t like him being on his own when he was ill, but he’d insisted he could cope, refusing her offer to stay over and take care of him.

  Tash wandered into the kitchen in her dressing gown and slumped down at the table. She had a dazed, red-eyed look and Ava suspected that she hadn’t had much sleep either.

  ‘There’s a brew in the pot. Shall I pour you one?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Tash said. ‘You been up for long?’

  ‘A while. Is Hannah still in bed?’

  ‘No, she left last night. I told her to. Not much point in her being here really. She doesn’t understand.’

  Ava poured out the tea and placed the mug in front of her. ‘Maybe she understands too much.’

  Tash looked up, frowning. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your feelings for Lydia. I think she must have guessed by now how you felt about her. And Hannah isn’t good at dealing with things like that.’

  ‘It’s not as though anything was going on. Lydia was never interested in me, not in that way.’

  ‘But you were interested in her.’

  Tash lowered her head and drank some tea, her long brown hair falling round her face like a curtain. ‘None of it matters any more.’ She was quiet for a moment and then she glanced up again. ‘Have the police been back in touch?’

  Ava felt her stomach lurch. ‘No, not since Sunday.’ She stared down into the square, fearing that a couple of cops might roll up at any second and haul her off to the nick. ‘I don’t imagine I’ve seen the last of them, though.’

  ‘It’s all my fault. God, I’m sorry. I should never have pretended that Lydia was your friend rather than mine. If it hadn’t been for that —’

  ‘That’s not why they’re so interested in me. Honestly, Tash, it isn’t. Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s the whole name thing – Jeremy Squires saying “Ava” at the hospital – that’s what’s got their antennae buzzing. They can’t figure it out and I can’t either.’ She moved away from the window and sat down. ‘Did you ever meet him? Did you ever meet Squires?’

  Tash shook her head. ‘No, and Lydia never mentioned him. I’m sure she didn’t.’

  ‘I met up with Danny Street yesterday. He claims he hasn’t got a clue.’

  ‘You don’t believe him?’

  ‘Put it this way, if he does know anything, he sure as hell isn’t willing to tell me.’

  ‘Can’t Chris have a word?’

  ‘He’s already tried. It’s a waste of time.’ The more Ava dwelled on it, the more fearful she became. She jumped up again and went over to the window. She felt sick inside, like a condemned man waiting for the hangman to arrive. Too anxious to hang around in the flat, she decided to get out. ‘I think I’ll go over to my dad’s. He’s an early riser; he should be up by now.’

  ‘Is he feeling any better?’

  ‘I hope so. He looked like death warmed up yesterday.’ As soon as she said it, Ava winced. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t think. Me and my big mouth. Sorry, I shouldn’t have…’

  ‘Will you stop apologising. I’m not so delicate that you can’t mention the word in my presence. Give him my love, yeah? I hope he gets well soon.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Ava didn’t like to think of her alone in the flat while she was out all day. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ Tash managed a feeble smile. ‘Go on, clear off. I’ll see you later.’

  Ava gave her shoulder a squeeze as she passed by on her way to the living room. ‘Bye then. You take care.’ She picked up her bag and her phone, went into the hall and took her coat off the peg. She hesitated for a moment, glancing back towards the kitchen, but then opened the front door and closed it behind her.

  She pulled on her coat as she hurried down the stairs, eager now to put some distance between her and the flat. She couldn’t help worrying about the cops turning up. Being innocent didn’t always mean that you wouldn’t be punished. Miscarriages of justice happened; she’d read about them in the paper, seen them on the news.

  Outside, the air was so cold that it made her flinch. She shivered as she put her head down and dashed across the square. Yesterday’s rain had turned the snow to ice and her feet slipped as she made her way to the high street. Here, the traffic was already building up with the early morning commuters trying to beat the rush.

  As she waited at the Pelican, she glanced to her right and saw a commotion down by the green. There were several police cars with flashing lights, an ambulance and a small crowd of onlookers. She was too far away to see what was happening and wasn’t going to take a detour to satisfy her curiosity. Anyway, she had no desire at the moment to be any closer to the law than she had to be.

  When the lights changed, she quickly crossed the road and started walking north. She went past Connolly’s, the door opening as she passed to release a brief rush of warm air and a snatch of music from the radio. There was a Co-op on the corner and she went inside to stock up on the essentials for her dad. She put milk, bread, tea, butter, sugar, loo roll, tissues and a newspaper into her basket, and then added soup and a few ready meals that he could just pop in the microwave.

  With a carrier bag hanging off each arm, she left the store, took a right turn off the high street and traipsed along Mansfield Road until she came to the entrance to the estate. At this time of day she didn’t feel so nervous about being alone in the concrete jungle. Hopefully, all the muggers, junkies and other unsavoury char
acters would still be tucked up in bed.

  She took the main path up to Haslow House, pushed open the door and stepped into the cold malodorous foyer. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, she wondered if she should risk taking the lift. She didn’t fancy lugging two heavy carrier bags up three flights of steps. On the other hand, she didn’t much fancy being trapped in a stinking broken-down lift either. Erring on the side of caution, she decided to take the stairs.

  By the time she reached her father’s flat, Ava was out of breath. She trudged along the landing until she reached number thirty-one where she put the bags down and rang the bell. It was a minute or so before he answered the door and his face fell as soon as he saw her.

  ‘Ava, love, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh, thanks, lovely to see you too. What kind of a welcome is that?’ She picked up the bags again and held them aloft. ‘I brought you some shopping. So are you going to invite me in or what?’

  He stood aside and waved her in. ‘Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, love. Ta. You just took me by surprise. I didn’t expect to see you today.’

  ‘What kind of a daughter leaves her old man to fend for himself when he’s sick?’ She went through to the kitchen and put the bags on the table. ‘How are you feeling by the way, any better?’ It was only at that moment, as she studied him properly, that she realised how ill he actually looked. His face was pale, almost ashen and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. And then she noticed that he was wearing his overcoat. ‘God, you weren’t thinking of going out, were you? You shouldn’t. It’s freezing out there.’

  ‘I was just… er… going to nip out for a paper.’

  She took the Daily Mirror out of one of the bags and handed it to him. ‘Here, never say I don’t anticipate your every need.’

  He didn’t, however, look as pleased as he might have done. ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Why don’t you take off your coat and get that kettle going while I put this stuff away?’ She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she opened the fridge and started to unpack. Something was bugging him and it wasn’t just a dose of flu. He was acting in a shifty kind of way and kept glancing at his watch. ‘What’s the matter? Do you need to be somewhere?’

  ‘No, no,’ he said too quickly, turning his back to mess about with cups and spoons and sugar. ‘Where would I need to be?’

  ‘Well, nowhere I hope, not in your state.’ She closed the fridge door, went to stand beside him and folded her arms across her chest. ‘What’s going on, Dad?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing’s going on.’

  ‘So why are you acting all antsy?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  The kettle boiled and he carelessly slopped water over the teabags. ‘You’re imagining it. Pass me the milk, will you?’

  Ava went back to the fridge and took out the plastic bottle. He finished making the tea, but as he carried the two mugs to the table, she noticed how his hands were shaking. She stared at him with worry in her eyes.

  ‘I suppose you’ll need to get off to work soon,’ he said as he sat down.

  ‘Sounds like you want to get rid of me.’

  ‘Course not, love, it’s always great to see you, but I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with that boss of yours.’

  As Ava didn’t intend to spend the rest of the day stressing over what he might or might not be up to, she decided to call his bluff. ‘You know what? I think I’ll give Chris a call and tell him I can’t make it today. I don’t think you should be on your own at the moment.’

  Her father’s eyes widened with alarm. ‘You can’t do that!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I mean you shouldn’t do that. You’ve only just started the job. How’s it going to look if you start taking time off already? I’m okay, I’m fine. There’s no need to put yourself out. It’s a touch of flu, that’s all. I’ll be right as rain in a few days.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ava said. ‘Let me put it another way. I’m not leaving this flat until you tell me what the hell you’re up to. I know you, Dad, and I know when you’re hiding something.’

  Lifting his hands, he seemed on the point of proclaiming his innocence, but then he slowly dropped them back to the table. He shook his head. ‘Best you don’t know, love. I don’t want to get you involved.’

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ she said. ‘Tell me it isn’t another job?’

  ‘Nah, it’s not. I promise. I swear to you.’

  ‘What then? What’s so important that you feel obliged to leave the comfort of a nice warm flat when you’re sick as a dog?’

  He drank some of his tea, sighed and peered at her over the rim of the mug. ‘There’s a problem.’

  ‘So share it with me.’

  ‘It’s to do with Finian’s.’

  ‘I thought that went off without a hitch.’

  He nodded. ‘It did, sweet as a nut, but the gear still hasn’t been shifted. It’s been in a lock-up over Dalston way. And last night two of the lads who were in on the job got nabbed on another robbery. Ryan reckons there’s a chance that they might grass us up or at least tell the law where the gear’s been stashed.’

  ‘Is that Ryan Moore?’ she asked, frowning. Moore was one of Ted Gold’s old pals, a slippery customer who, like her uncle, was more than adept at wriggling out of tricky situations and leaving some poor sucker to take the fall.

  ‘Yeah, that’s him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust that guy as far as I could throw him.’

  ‘Ah, Ryan’s okay. He’s sound enough.’

  And that, she thought, was her dad all over. How many times had Moore screwed him over in the past? Yet her father had, it seemed, a singular inability to learn from experience. ‘So what does he want you to do now? You said you were just the driver, that you wouldn’t have to do anything else.’

  ‘Yeah, but that was before the two lads got nicked. We need to get rid of the gear, pronto. Ryan and Lee have already emptied the lock-up into the van. All I have to do is deliver it to Chingford.’

  ‘You?’ she said, her voice full of indignation. ‘That was never the deal. Why should you have to do it? Why can’t one of them drive the van?’

  ‘Fair’s fair, love. They took a big risk going to Dalston. For all they knew, the cops could have been lying in wait for them. They did their bit and now I need to do mine.’

  ‘You don’t need to do anything,’ she insisted. ‘And anyway, you’re not fit to leave the flat, never mind drive a bloody van.’

  ‘It won’t take me long,’ he said, glancing at his watch again. ‘I can be there and back in an hour or so. All I have to do is deliver the goods and that’s it. It’s straightforward. No risk.’ He rose to his feet, but almost immediately lost his balance, swayed a little and slumped back down again.

  Ava stared at him. ‘Look at the state of you. You can barely stand. This is crazy. You’ll have to call Ryan, tell him you can’t do it. Tell him you’re sick, for God’s sake.’

  ‘I can’t, love. I said I’d do it and I will.’

  She could see that for her father it was a matter of pride, of reputation. If he backed out now, he’d lose face and he couldn’t bear that. The trouble was that he’d probably collapse on the job and end up crashing the van. From there it would be a small step from hospital to a prison cell. Suddenly, she realised that there was only one way out. She would have to do it.

  ‘Where’s the van? Where do you need to pick it up from?’

  ‘It’s parked in Tierney Street,’ he said. ‘And it’s legit, love, not nicked or nothing so there’s no reason why I should be stopped. But I have to get it back by twelve. That’s the arrangement. Any later and the guy who’s made the loan will report it as stolen.’

  ‘And you’ve got a name for the man you’re delivering to?’

  ‘Course I have. It’s Lenny Crew. He’s got a warehouse near the old dog track.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, stretching out her hand. ‘Give me the keys.’
>
  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll do it. I’ll take the van over to Chingford.’

  Her father shook his head. ‘No way, Ava. No! I’m not letting you do that.’

  ‘I don’t see that you have a choice. Take a look in the mirror, Dad. You’re like the walking dead. You’re never going to make it over there. You’ll be lucky to make it down the stairs.’