The Villain’s Daughter

by Roberta Kray

  ‘You saying that Johnny boy didn’t like a drink?’ He snorted. ‘As I recall, the whole reason we’re here is that he drank himself to bloody death.’

  Iris looked from one to the other. She glanced down at her file, but there was nothing in its pages to deal with marital disputes. Hoping to avert yet another funeral - Jean Elliot appeared more than capable of murder - she quickly interrupted.

  ‘There’s really no need to make a decision now. You can take the catalogue home with you, have a think about it and call us when you’ve made up your mind.’

  ‘It’s the oak,’ Jean Elliot said again.

  Her husband gave an ugly sneer, but this time kept his mouth shut.

  ‘Very well,’ Iris said.

  The two were still bickering as they left. Iris was glad that she’d managed to make a reasonable job of taking down the details, but was relieved to see the back of them. She had heard that funerals often brought out the worst in families and was beginning to understand how.

  She was in the process of typing up the notes when her mobile rang. She checked the number and saw that it was unavailable. Immediately, she thought it must be Luke calling from Belgium. About time. ‘Hi,’ she said, but the only sound from the other end was silence. ‘Hello? Luke?’ The line wasn’t dead. It had that curious kind of silence as if someone was waiting to speak. ‘Hello?’ she said again. ‘Is that you?’

  After waiting a few more seconds, she shrugged and hung up.

  Less than a minute later, it rang again. ‘Luke?’ she repeated. Again, there was that odd silence. Was it just a bad connection from Brussels? She waited, uneasily aware of a few faint sounds coming down the line. Breathing perhaps? Or she could just be imagining it. ‘Hello?’ she said once more, waiting a while before disconnecting.

  Iris laid the phone on her desk and stared at it. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it to ring or not. If it was Luke, then yes - she’d be relieved - but she wasn’t convinced that it was him. It was ten-thirty, not the kind of time he’d normally call when he had a morning full of meetings. Although having neglected to speak to her for so long, he might be having a crisis of conscience.

  When the phone went off again, she jumped. Warily, she lifted it to her ear. This time she said nothing. There was another short silence and then she heard the sound of breathing - that kind of low, heavy breathing that was only meant to threaten.

  Iris felt her heart begin to thrash in her chest. Her mouth went dry. ‘Who is it?’ she eventually managed to mumble.

  The heavy breathing continued.

  Jabbing at the button, Iris cut the connection, turned off the mobile and threw it across the desk. For a while she just sat there, overtaken by panic. Her hands were shaking and she clenched them into two tight fists. A wave of fear rolled over her. It was not the content of the call that scared her as much as the knowledge of who was behind it. The Streets, quite clearly, were still determined to bully her into submission.

  For the next five minutes, Iris didn’t move. She kept her wide eyes fixed firmly on the phone as if her malicious caller might somehow have the power to make it ring again.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was a while before Iris recovered enough to start thinking about what to do next. Her first instinct was to grab her coat, head for home and lock herself in, but that wouldn’t do much for her future employment prospects. It was over an hour since Toby had disappeared and there was no sign of William either. If she left the office unattended, she’d need to come up with a damn good excuse - and a couple of heavy breathing phone calls would hardly cut it.

  Eventually, she came to the conclusion that she was probably as safe here as anywhere else. A sense of outrage was beginning to grow inside her. It wasn’t exactly replacing the fear, but was helping her to cope with it. How dare the bastards do this? She thought about ringing Guy, but couldn’t really see what purpose it would serve. It was unlikely he’d had time to see Chris Street yet. But then another wave of fear rolled over her. What if he had? What if Guy had already talked to the Streets and this was their nasty, sick response to the meeting?

  Desperate for something else to occupy her mind, Iris grabbed the Elliot notes and continued typing up their details. When that was done she attacked the other letters William had left. As her fingers flew across the keyboard, she tried hard to keep the more worrying thoughts at bay. It was pointless to dwell on what she couldn’t change. Until she heard from Guy Wilder, she wouldn’t know for certain what the situation was.

  Iris was still thinking about him, about their meeting the previous night, when the main door opened. She glanced up, expecting to see Toby or William, but her eyes made contact with someone else entirely. Her body froze as the terrifying figure of Danny Street sauntered towards her. Only her heart responded, its beat accelerating until she thought it would leap right out of her chest.

  She was almost overcome with fright as he came up to the desk. His face was pale and covered in a thin film of sweat. A tiny glob of spittle nestled in the corner of his mouth. There was something about the way he moved, the way he looked at her - his gaze slightly out of focus - that told her he was high as a kite.

  ‘Hey, sweetie,’ he drawled. ‘How’s it going?’ Although his voice was soft, it was filled with menace.

  Iris was suddenly sure that he was the one who had made the calls. Abruptly, the adrenalin kicked in and she jumped to her feet. ‘W-what do you want?’ she stammered, almost knocking over the chair as she stood up and backed away from him.

  ‘On your own, are you?’

  Iris shook her head. Not for the first time, she inwardly cursed her father for what he’d done, for the legacy he’d left. How was she supposed to deal with the fallout, with this vicious thug who only wanted revenge? ‘No,’ she eventually managed to splutter, ‘Mr . . . Mr Grand’s in the office.’

  Danny Street grinned. He continued to stare at her while he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out and lit it. Squinting through the smoke, he said, ‘Oh, I don’t think so. Didn’t he leave a while ago?’

  Another wave of panic swept over her. So he’d been watching, waiting for an opportunity to catch her on her own.

  ‘What’s the matter, babe?’ he said. ‘You don’t look too pleased to see me.’

  There wasn’t much she could say to that so she didn’t bother trying. She could tell he was getting off on it all, enjoying the intimidation. And with him being over six foot, and bulky with it, there was plenty to be afraid of. Reversing a few steps closer to the wall, all she was thinking now was God, I should have gone home. I should have gone home.

  ‘You could at least try and look pleased to see me. Ain’t it your job to make people feel welcome?’

  Glancing around the room, Iris was horribly aware of how alone she was, how vulnerable. There was nowhere to run, no one to help her. She could try to make a dash for the basement, but he was faster than her, faster and stronger. There was no chance she would get there before him. ‘What do you want?’ she said again.

  ‘What do you think I want?’

  He moved around the desk. He took a step closer to her. And then another. He was almost breathing into her face when William suddenly walked in. Iris cried out in relief. ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘get him away from me.’

  William, looking startled, glanced from one to the other. ‘What’s going on?’

  Danny Street turned and shrugged his shoulders. ‘No idea, mate.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ she said.

  William gestured towards the door. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you left.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ Danny replied. He flicked his cigarette, depositing an offensive pile of ash on the carpet. ‘But a word to the wise, mate: you should teach your staff some fuckin’ manners. A bit of respect ain’t too much to ask.’

  William responded with a thin smile. ‘Perhaps that works both ways, Mr Street.’

  Danny paused. As if mentally processing the content of the answer, a
nd trying to decide how insulting it was, a frown appeared on his forehead. After a moment, as if the effort of thinking was too much, he simply shrugged again. ‘Yeah, right.’ He took a moment to glare at William and then walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Once he was gone, Iris slumped down into the chair. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  William came over and stood beside her. ‘Are you okay?’

  She nodded. ‘I am now. Thanks for that.’

  ‘You want to tell me what just happened there?’

  Iris wished she could, but that was hardly possible without relating the whole sordid story of the events of nineteen years ago. ‘He was just . . . just being weird. I think he’s on something. He . . .’ She swallowed hard, trying to regain her calm. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I overreacted.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ William said. ‘Danny Street’s a piece of work. He’s trouble, pure and simple. You shouldn’t have had to deal with him on your own.’ He laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘I can assure you it won’t happen again. I won’t have my staff threatened by the likes of that man.’

  Iris, although she appreciated the sentiment, was immediately worried about what he was planning to do next. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m going to call the police,’ William said. He reached for the phone. ‘Perhaps they can keep him under control.’

  ‘No!’ Iris objected, quickly putting her hand over the receiver. ‘There’s no need for that.’ Chris Street was hardly likely to be amenable to Guy’s attempts to smooth things over if he thought she’d been grassing up his brother. ‘I mean, do you really think that’s such a good idea? He was out of order, but he didn’t actually do anything. Why waste your time? Not to mention the time of the police.’ She looked at him pleadingly. ‘To be honest, I’d rather we just forgot about it.’

  William hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  ‘I hate to see him getting away with it. It isn’t right.’ He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea where Toby is?’

  ‘He had to go out. Some kind of emergency, I think.’

  ‘Yes, I bet it was. Look, are you all right? You’re white as a sheet. Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? A brandy?’

  ‘Brandy?’ she repeated, surprised by the suggestion.

  ‘We usually keep a bottle in. Funerals aren’t the easiest things to arrange and people can get upset. You never know when someone’s going to need it.’

  Like when Danny Street started shouting the odds, she thought. She smiled up at William. It was a somewhat faltering smile. His kindness towards her, his clear concern for her welfare, made her want to cry. ‘Thanks, but if you want your letters typed with any degree of accuracy, I’d better keep off the hard stuff.’

  ‘You don’t have to stay. You’ve had a shock. I’ll understand if you’d prefer to go home. Take the rest of the day off if you like. I can call you a taxi. You’ll be there in five minutes.’

  Iris was tempted by the offer - instead of going home, she could go round and see Guy - but decided against it. She couldn’t go running to him every five minutes; he might get the impression that she was one of those hysterical females who fell to pieces at the first sign of trouble. Not that she didn’t have good reason to be afraid. There was no doubt in her mind that Danny Street would have gone further if William hadn’t come back. But if she wasn’t going to see Guy, what was she going to do? Faced with the prospect of spending the rest of the day alone in the flat, she decided to stay put. ‘No, really, I’m fine. I’d rather just get on with things.’

  ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said. He gave her shoulder one last pat before retreating to his office. At the door, he stopped and turned around. ‘Let me know if you change your mind.’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  At lunchtime, Iris went to the kitchen. She toyed with the ham sandwich she’d thrown together that morning, but couldn’t bring herself to eat it. The cold knot in her stomach kept on tightening.

  All this because of some terrible mistake her father had made all those years ago. But it was more than a mistake, she thought. A boy had died. And if Liam had been her brother . . . well, maybe she wouldn’t rest either until some kind of justice was seen to be done. Her father may not have pulled the trigger, but he had still been there. And being there was clearly enough for the Streets.

  Iris took her mobile out of her bag and laid it on the table. At the very least she should call Guy, keep him in the loop. If he was seeing Chris Street today, he needed to know what had happened. Tentatively, she turned the phone on, instinctively flinching in case it suddenly started ringing again. But the only sound was the double beep of a text message.

  Iris pressed the buttons and found a short note from Vita: Hope all OK. R sent red roses to the office! Vx

  She frowned at the words, recalling her earlier misgivings. Roses didn’t come cheap. Had Rick used the money he’d got from . . . but she immediately stamped on the thought. No, she had to stop this. There were a hundred-and-one ways he could have got hold of that cash. And would Michael really have told him about her father’s presence at a murder? Surely some family secrets stayed firmly locked in the closet. They had certainly been hidden from her for long enough.

  She put her head in her hands and sighed. Vita, of course, knew all about her father, but she couldn’t have been the one to have passed the information on. Iris had only told her the details last night - a good seven hours or so after Duggie had taken the wallet.

  Raising her face, Iris decided that the only way forward was to do something positive. She’d go mad if she kept on chasing shadows. Accordingly, she took a deep breath, scrolled through the menu on her phone and called Guy Wilder. She swallowed her disappointment as she heard it switch instantly to voicemail. Then she hesitated. Should she leave a message? She decided not. The bar was open at lunchtime and he was probably busy. She’d try again later.

  There were still fifty minutes left of her break. She twisted the phone between her fingers. What next? She tried Michael’s number, but that was turned off too. This time she did leave a message. Trying to sound as cheery as possible, she said: ‘Hi Michael, it’s only me. Call me back, let me know how you are.’ She had no intention of telling him about Danny Street’s visit - he was so hot-headed he’d probably go off at the deep end again - but she did need to talk to him. She had to find out exactly who he’d told about her father.

  Having drawn a blank on her first two calls, Iris was convinced that her third would have the same result. Still, she may as well give it a go. After pressing 1 on her keypad, she heard Luke’s phone start to ring. It seemed strange to think of it ringing all those miles away. She wasn’t really expecting him to answer and when he did was entirely unprepared.

  ‘Hi, babe! Great to hear from you. How are you?’

  Iris could tell from his voice that he wasn’t entirely sober. ‘Oh, yes, hi. I’m okay. I’m fine, thanks. How’s it going?’

  ‘Pretty good,’ he said. ‘In fact, very good.’

  She could hear the chink of glasses, of chatter and music in the background. ‘That’s great. You’ve clinched some profitable deals then?’

  ‘On the brink,’ he said. ‘Here’s hoping. And hey, I’m sorry I haven’t called. I was going to catch up with you tonight. It’s all been a bit manic here. You know what it’s like.’

  Iris did know what it was like. That was the trouble. She’d made a few business trips of her own in the past, spending half of them in various bars and restaurants. She remembered the easy atmosphere, the generous flow of wine and conversation. She remembered the men who had smiled and flattered and chatted her up. There had been plenty of opportunities if she’d wanted to take them. Of course, back then, she hadn’t wanted to - Luke was the only man she’d been interested in - but she knew how much temptation there was when you were far away from home.

  ‘Are you still there?’ he said, hearing the silence.


  ‘Yes,’ she said breezily. ‘So it’s all going well?’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  He sounded happy, upbeat, like the Luke she’d fallen in love with five years ago. There hadn’t been much sign of him over the last six months. She felt a tiny tug inside. His improved mood was probably down to the booze, to the heady excitement of deals being made, but maybe some of it - she couldn’t pretend otherwise - was because he was away from her. Hearing his name being called, followed by a soft peal of laughter, her heart turned over. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘It’s only Jasmine,’ he said. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. We’re about to head in to lunch.’

  Iris remembered the girl at the Christmas party, the girl she thought had been called Jade.

  ‘Jasmine?’ she repeated.

  But if he’d heard the question mark, he didn’t respond to it. ‘Look, I’ll give you a ring later, okay? I’ve got to go. You take care.’

  ‘You too.’

  ‘Bye then.’

  ‘Take care,’ Iris repeated softly as she put the phone back down on the table. He had no idea how much those words meant to her at the moment.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Alice pulled up the hood on her red anorak as she scurried along the street. The snow was coming down in great swirling drifts, flying into her eyes and obscuring her vision. Not that she needed to see to find her way. She had made this journey so many times she could have done it blindfold. As she clutched her mother’s dry cleaning to her chest - it was enclosed in a thin plastic cover that might not be entirely waterproof - she felt her throat making tiny gulping motions. She was trying hard not to cry.

  Alice was almost overwhelmed by guilt. It was not an unfamiliar emotion - Janet Avery had made sure of that - but on this occasion it was more tangible than usual, the result of a real event. She had let herself down but, even worse, she’d betrayed a colleague too. Alice bit down on her lip. She had been halfway up the steps when she’d heard the voices coming from reception, and had instantly stopped dead. Consumed by fear, she had left Iris to face the wrath of Danny Street alone.