by DS Butler
Ahead of him, Vinnie saw a man dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie standing at the bus stop. He didn’t recognise the man at first, but as he drew closer he realised it was the man who had walked into the newsagent’s. The bloke who’d been hanging around the magazines. He’d pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, but Vinnie was sure it was him.
The man slouched back against the glass panel of the bus shelter, but as Vinnie approached him, the man straightened up and turned to face Vinnie.
Vinnie recognised a threat when he saw one. The bloke had obviously witnessed his argument with Syed and pegged Vinnie as an easy mark. There was no way Vinnie would back down. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to keep his reputation.
Vinnie jutted out his chin and gave him the look. The look that said if this bloke was looking for trouble, Vinnie had plenty to supply.
The hoodie stepped forward blocking Vinnie’s path.
This was a direct confrontation. Vinnie couldn’t back down. If he wanted to get past, he would have to step into the road or shove his way past.
Vinnie shoved his hands in his pockets and felt the reassuring cool, smooth metal of the knife. If there was going to be trouble, Vinnie was ready for it.
The hoodie surprised Vinnie by smiling. The hood of his sweatshirt kept most of the bloke’s face in shadow, but Vinnie could see the lower half of his face and he was definitely grinning.
Vinnie glanced across the road. Maybe he should cross the road and avoid the stand-off. That was the sensible thing to do. Vinnie wasn’t a hot-headed kid any more. He didn’t like to take on fights unless he was sure he could win, and this bloke looked a bit of a dodgy character. Besides, the police were just waiting for him to slip up again.
“What do you want?” Vinnie asked.
The hoodie looked up and down the street, his eyes shifty. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Vinnie said. “Well, I’m not interested. I don’t do business with people I don’t know.”
“You’ll be interested in this,” the hoodie said.
Vinnie scoffed. “I don’t think so, mate.”
Now he was closer, Vinnie could see the bloke was older than he first thought. He had at least ten years on Vinnie. That should have made Vinnie more confident. Vinnie was ten years younger and fitter, but for some reason it made him nervous.
Vinnie tried to sidestep the man but felt the hoodie’s fingers dig into his shoulder.
Vinnie stared down at the man’s hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off me, unless you want me to break your fingers.”
The man laughed but removed his hand. “No need to act like that, mate. If you’re not interested...” He shrugged. “I’m sure someone else will be. Maybe the Brewerton brothers?”
Vinnie scowled. The Brewertons were his closest rivals. They wouldn’t be happy until they had driven Vinnie out of the area.
“All right. What’s this proposition? I’ll give you two minutes.”
“Money. An easy job. I saw you earlier, trying to get a phone off that newsagent.” The bloke nodded down the street in the direction of Syed’s shop.
Vinnie folded his arms across his chest. He hated the idea anyone else had witnessed his embarrassment. Who was this guy anyway? Some kind of spy for the Brewertons? Vinnie stared at him, determined not to show any reaction. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
The hoodie smiled slowly, as if he understood. “You were right. He was trying to cheat you. I wouldn’t mind one of those fancy new phones myself, but there’s no way I’m paying one hundred quid for it.”
Vinnie shrugged. “They are nicked anyway. The dodgy bastard. It’s a rip-off.”
“So why don’t we just take them?” The hoodie grinned. “It’s hardly stealing if they were already stolen once.”
Vinnie licked his lips. “Are you suggesting we rob poor old Syed?”
Vinnie tried to stifle his grin. He would enjoy teaching that stupid bastard, Syed, a lesson.
“Few of your mates, few of mine. We could do it like last summer. A smash and grab. In and out before he knows what’s hit him.”
Vinnie grinned. He liked that idea. But he wasn’t about to let this bloke think he was a pushover. He shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s worth my time for a couple of poxy phones.”
The man looked around again nervously, as if he expected somebody to be watching them. “Your loss. But if you change your mind, we do it at six o’clock tomorrow night.”
“Why are you telling me? Why not just do it yourself?”
“Strength in numbers,” the hoodie said. “If there’s a lot of us, the owner will back down. We can split the phones fifty-fifty. I bet some of your mates would do this sort of thing for a chocolate bar.”
“Maybe,” Vinnie said and side-stepped the man. He was probably right. Most of the kids he hung around with didn’t take things seriously. They didn’t see it as a career, more as a way to have fun. That was their problem. It didn’t stop Vinnie using them for backup now and again. And the man was right. There was strength in numbers.
“Yeah, well, I might make it if I haven’t got anything better to do.”
“Your choice,” the hoodie said. “But there’s a whole box of phones, and he’s selling them for a ton apiece.”
“Like I said, I’ll see.”
Vinnie carried on walking and didn’t look back. He didn’t notice that the man was still watching him. He was too busy planning who to contact for tomorrow night.
There were lots of eager kids he could call on, but he didn’t want to involve too many. The more people in on the action, the more they would have to divide the profits. And Vinnie didn’t like to share. He pulled out his old Nokia and opened the Facebook app. It took ages to load, which was exactly why he wanted a new phone in the first place.
He decided to invite four others. Four others he could trust, and more importantly, four others who would be happy with just a few cigarettes for their trouble.
He typed their names into the search bar and sent each of them a message. Then he shoved the phone back in his pocket and smiled. Only one more day before he could dump that plastic piece of crap. Yeah, he would look a lot better with a brand-new, fancy smartphone clamped to his ear.
As Vinnie swaggered up the road, full of plans for tomorrow, he had no idea the man watching him had plans of his own.
3
THE FOLLOWING EVENING, VINNIE Pearson grinned at the little old lady who quickly moved out of his way. She dashed across the road, dragging her shopping trolley behind her.
She found Vinnie and his mates intimidating. The gang swaggered down the road, laughing and joking, with their hoods pulled up to hide their faces. Nervous energy crackled around them. Vinnie could feel the tension, and the promise of things to come.
After he’d spoken to the bloke at the bus stop, Vinnie hadn’t wasted any time in sending out messages on Facebook. He had only invited people he trusted. He didn’t want a large group descending on Syed’s shop, getting out of control. That would only attract more attention.
Really, Vinnie was just interested in getting his hands on the phones. The rest of the stuff in the shop was just gravy. He’d leave that for the others.
He’d invited enough people to intimidate that bastard, Syed. That was the key, knowing how many people he needed to get the job done. Vinnie wasn’t just a looter. He had a plan – a business plan.
It was Syed’s own fault. He had this coming. How could he expect to get a hundred quid for a phone that was nicked anyway? What a bloody rip-off.
Vinnie smiled at the only girl in the group, Joanne James. He’d gone out with her for a couple of months last year. She was one of those girls whose daddy paid for everything, but she liked a bit of rough and used Vinnie to add some excitement to her boring life.
She grinned back at him, showing too many teeth. Vinnie wasn’t interested in re-visiting the past, but he needed to keep her sweet for tonight.
&nb
sp; Craig Foster, a great big fat lump of a bloke, lumbered along next to Joanne. Craig wasn’t intelligent enough to put one over on Vinnie, and he did what he was told, which was exactly what Vinnie needed.
Vinnie had also invited Tyrell Patterson, who was the closest thing Vinnie had to a best friend. They did most things together. Although they hadn’t spent much time together lately because Tyrell had knocked up his girlfriend. Vinnie shook his head. He couldn’t believe that in less than a month Tyrell would be a father. Vinnie held back a snort of laughter as he imagined Tyrell up to his elbows in dirty nappies.
Vinnie smirked at Tyrell. Bloody fool, getting himself trapped like that.
The only person in the group who Vinnie worried about was little Robbie Baxter. He was so eager, wanting to be in with the older kids. Vinnie watched Robbie swagger along beside Craig with a cheeky grin on his face. Next to Craig, Robbie looked even smaller. He kept his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, and his trainers, clearly several sizes too big for him, slid across the floor as he walked. The shoes probably belonged to one of his older brothers. Not that either of his brothers would notice. Both of Robbie’s brothers had been sent down for armed robbery last year.
Robbie was all right really. As long as he kept his mouth shut and did what he was told, Vinnie couldn’t see the harm in him hanging around.
Vinnie liked the fact he had a small, select group with him. He didn’t need many people to intimidate the newsagent. Most likely Syed would wet himself as soon as he got a glimpse of big, fat Craig barrelling into the newsagent’s.
When they were level with the old post office, Vinnie paused and looked at his watch. Six p.m. exactly. It wouldn’t be dark for hours. The smell of fried onions drifted down the street from the cafe. Two girls, wearing short skirts and cropped t-shirts, showing off their muffin tops and scoffing Magnum ice-creams, walked towards them. The dark-haired girl shot Vinnie a flirtatious look, and Vinnie felt Joanne bristle and move closer to him.
Vinnie ignored them. He had more important things on his mind.
There was still no sign of the hoodie and his gang. He chewed on his thumbnail. Should he wait? The others were getting restless, messing about, pushing and shoving each other. Drawing attention to themselves.
Sod it. It wasn’t Vinnie’s fault they weren’t on time. He beckoned the others to follow him.
As they drew closer to the shop, Vinnie crossed the road, and the others trailed behind him. They huddled together just short of the newsagent’s in a loose circle, ignoring the glare from mad Mitch in the cafe. Vinnie didn’t say anything but gestured with his hands so they lined up behind him. He didn’t want to give Syed a chance to spot them and call the police.
Vinnie raised his hand, holding up three fingers ready to count.
“What are you doing?” Craig said, breathing heavily in Vinnie’s ear. “Let’s just get on with it. I’ve got other stuff to do today.”
Vinnie rolled his eyes. As if… Craig Foster was unemployed with no girlfriend or family to speak of. Any money he earned came through Vinnie. For Craig, other stuff probably involved getting McDonald’s for dinner.
But there wasn’t much point in counting down now. Not after Craig had given the game away, with his large booming voice just outside the shop.
He needed to act now.
Vinnie jogged the last couple of steps to the newsagent’s, but when he got to the front of the shop, he frowned.
The door was shut.
Syed never shut this early. Had he seen them coming? Had the hoodie and his gang already done the place over?
Vinnie stared at the closed sign on the door, then peered through the glass panel. There was no sign of a disturbance, so why was the shop closed? Vinnie had never known Syed to shut the shop before nine p.m.
Vinnie gave the door a little push and exhaled with a low whistle when it opened. Their luck was in. In his panic, Syed obviously hadn’t bothered to bolt the door.
Vinnie felt the group’s bubbling energy behind him as they pushed forward, eager to get inside and create a bit of chaos. Vinnie turned around and caught a brief glimpse of Robbie Baxter’s eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Vinnie pushed the door open wider and heard the sound of breaking glass and a muffled splash.
He looked around the shop, but he couldn’t work out what had made the noise.
Maybe one of the others had broken a window, but he couldn’t see it if they had. Everything looked intact. There was a mop and a couple of buckets propped up against the wall by the door, and more importantly, there was no sign of the owner. Had Syed been cleaning the shop when he spotted them? Was he hiding out the back?
Everything looked fine. There was no sign that the hoodie and his gang had been there yet. Although the sign above the shop said “Newsagent’s” Syed’s shop stocked groceries and alcohol as well as papers. Syed had re-stacked the packets of biscuits Vinnie had knocked over yesterday into another neat pyramid.
Vinnie stepped forward cautiously, but the rest of the gang pushed around him, desperate to get inside.
Craig Foster went straight for the magazines on the top rack. Pulling down handfuls of girlie mags. Predictable. Vinnie shook his head.
Little Robbie Baxter made a beeline for the chocolate bars and began shoving handfuls of them into his pockets.
Vinnie hadn’t told the others about the phones. He wanted those all for himself. Vinnie took a quick look around the shop. Where would the cunning bastard have hidden them? He moved behind the counter, kicking a bucket out of his way.
Vinnie paused for a moment. There was a funny smell in the air, like rotting eggs. No wonder Syed had been in the middle of cleaning. The place needed it.
Vinnie edged past Joanne James, who was helping herself to packets of cigarettes. She gave him a little smile as he went past. In her eyes, this little outing probably meant they were back together. Silly cow. Vinnie only invited her because he knew she wouldn’t be interested in the phones. She had enough money to buy her own phone, or at least her old man did.
Vinnie wrinkled his nose. Jesus, the smell was getting worse. He covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, but the smell faded quickly. He rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. Where the hell were the phones?
Underneath the counter, by the till, Vinnie discovered a battered old cardboard box, just where it had been yesterday. Vinnie smiled. Syed hadn’t even tried to move them.
Vinnie pulled out the box, so he could take a good look. There was a pile of old newspapers stacked on top. Vinnie lifted them up and grinned when he got a glimpse of the black phones underneath. Vinnie reached for one, admiring the sleek, black finish. Too late, he realised that little Robbie Baxter had been watching him.
Robbie crouched beside him on the floor. “Whatcha got there, Vin?”
Vinnie scowled. The kid was too sharp by half.
Robbie made a grab for one of the phones in the box and whistled as he turned it over in his hands. “Nice one,” he said.
Vinnie tried to shove the box back under the counter before anyone else saw the phones, but it was too late. The rest of the gang’s interest had been spiked by Robbie’s squeaky admiration. Joanne and Craig wandered over.
Craig peered over the top of the Big Jugs magazine he’d been leafing through. Then Tyrell leaned across and pulled the cardboard box out of Vinnie’s hands. In the next moment, it was like a pack of dogs fighting over a chicken carcass.
Vinnie watched as they each helped themselves to a phone, then he made a grab for the cardboard box.
It was empty.
That didn’t make sense. Why were there only five phones? He’d been sure Syed had a whole box full. He guessed Syed had been doing a roaring trade today and sold most of them already. Bloody typical.
Vinnie stood up and put his hand on the counter to steady himself. His headache was getting worse. Hanging around with this lot wasn’t helping. He was pissed off. All this effort for five poxy
phones.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He needed to concentrate.
He’d been banking on getting his hands on those phones. He could have turned a tidy little profit. He turned back and his eyes flickered briefly over the till, but there was no point in taking that. It was too heavy, too obvious.
But it gave him an idea. If Syed had already sold the phones, the cash must be around here somewhere. What would Syed have done with the money? He wouldn’t have put it through the till. He must have stashed it somewhere, and Vinnie was going to find it.
There was a door at the back of the shop leading to what Vinnie assumed were the living quarters. Syed seemed like the type to keep money stuffed in his mattress.
As he walked towards the door, Vinnie blinked. His eyes felt funny. They wouldn’t quite focus.
That was why he’d almost stepped on the body before he saw it.
Shit.
Vinnie staggered backwards and then grabbed the doorframe to support himself.
There, lying at the foot of the stairs, was Syed Hammad, the skinny, Pakistani owner of the newsagent’s.
Vinnie’s breath quickened as he edged forwards. He didn’t dare get too close, but he reached out and nudged him with the toe of his shoe.
Syed Hammad didn’t move.
Vinnie struggled to draw in a breath. He needed to get out of here. The police couldn’t find him here with Syed’s body. He’d get the blame.
Where the hell was the hoodie who had organised this? It had been all his idea. He’d been so keen for Vinnie and his friends to be part of it. Vinnie ran a hand over his face.
How could he have been so stupid? Why had he trusted him? The hoodie had probably been in here before they arrived, nicked most of the phones and topped Syed, happy in the knowledge that Vinnie and his gang would soon arrive and take the blame.
Right now, the bastard was probably laughing at home, imagining Vinnie getting arrested for murder.
As a million thoughts crowded into Vinnie’s brain, he found it harder to get enough air in his lungs.
