by Jessie Keane
‘Is that true? Did you really trip on the stairs? Jimmy didn’t hit you, did he?’
‘Course not,’ snorted Kath, but her eyes were on the floor.
‘Are you going to let me have Ruthie’s number, Kath?’
‘Might do, if I can find it.’
Which was a definite softening, Annie felt. It was better than ‘fuck off’, anyway.
‘I’m going to have Jimmy send one of the cleaners who used to do the clubs round, Kath. Give you a hand with the place.’
Now Kath did look up.
‘I don’t want your fucking handouts, Lady Muck,’ she said.
‘It ain’t a handout, you berk,’ said Annie. ‘You’re my cousin and you’re drowning here. You can’t cope, any fool can see it. So take some help and don’t be so fucking stubborn.’
‘Well…’ Kath’s eyes slid around the room.
‘Just try it. If you don’t get on, tell me or tell Jimmy, we’ll send someone else.’
‘I’m sick of people looking down their noses at me,’ said Kath as the baby started to wriggle and cry.
‘Then how about not giving them reason to?’ asked Annie.
‘Easy for you to say,’ pouted Kath.
‘I know you must miss your mum,’ said Annie.
‘What, like you miss yours? You couldn’t wait for Auntie Connie to croak and be out the way, could you, you cow?’
Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day, thought Annie. Kath had softened a little, but there was still a hell of a long way to go.
But she was persistent. She would keep on pushing. It was her speciality.
Annie glanced over at Jimmy Junior. He had finished the chocolates and was back at his painting, sloshing water around in a glass with his paintbrush.
The noise again.
Tantalizing. Teasing.
She went outside and got back into the car with Dolly.
Kath hating her…Little Jimmy’s delight with her gift of chocolates…then the painting…the brush in the water…that noise…and the Irish voice on the phone, southern Irish just like…
‘Jesus!’ Annie sat bolt upright.
‘What the fuck?’ demanded Dolly as Annie clutched hard at her arm. ‘Ow.’
‘Dolly, I know who’s behind it.’
‘What?’
‘The hit. The hit in Majorca.’
‘Well, who for the love of God?’
Annie took a breath.
Had to be.
Couldn’t be anyone else.
She looked at Dolly.
‘Kieron Delaney,’ she said.
34
Kieron Delaney had come back to haunt her. Annie was sure of it. He had been obsessed with her, and she had been mad to believe that he would just let it go, forget it, move on. No. That wasn’t his style. Because even when she had been deeply involved with Max, he had been incapable of taking a hint and buggering off.
Of course she had been fooled by him at first.
She had seen him as the odd one out of the Delaney clan, the only one not involved in the dirty game of gangland thuggery, murder, and crime. He had been an artist, a talented painter. That was the noise she could hear down the phone—the swoosh of a brush being dipped into water, swirled around. Kieron Delaney. She had believed him to be gentle and trustworthy.
She had been a bloody fool.
Max had warned her.
And she had ignored his warnings.
Which meant, of course, that Kieron Delaney’s escalating obsession with her had been fed by hope as well as desire.
She remembered too that he had pitched up at dinner with his sister Orla and his brother Redmond and behaved to Annie as if everything was perfectly normal when he had already decided that he was going to kill Max.
That time, he had failed.
This time, he had succeeded.
‘I think he’s in Spain,’ Orla had told her not long after that. ‘The light’s good, you know—for the painting.’
Oh yes—the painting. That had been the clue. Kieron had painted her in oils when she was strapped for cash. He had done the odd water-colour study of her too, high up in his attic studio in Shepherd’s Bush, and she remembered now the swoosh of the brush as he dipped it in water, the paints swirling into muddy brown as they mixed together. That was the noise she remembered. That was the noise she kept hearing on the phone when the Irish kidnapper called.
Southern Irish, like Kieron, like Redmond and Orla, like the whole of that demented family. Despite the hardness of the man’s tone, his voice still held the lyrical, almost musical cadences that were so distinctive. The ranks of the Delaneys were dense with bruisers from the south of Ireland. Those such as Charlie Foster, a Londoner born and bred, were the exception rather than the rule.
Yeah, but then shit always floats to the top, thought Annie.
It wasn’t too big a leap to see that it was a Delaney man on the phone to her, not Kieron himself because she would know his voice. Christ, she would never forget it. But she could see him there, in her mind’s eye, listening in the background, laughing at her, thinking that she was suffering and that he was glad.
Kieron fucking Delaney.
He was there, right there in the background, listening in, perhaps smiling as she went mad with distress. Paying her back for rejecting him. Making her suffer.
Maybe Kieron had still been in Spain when Annie and Max moved into their secluded villa on Majorca. Perhaps he had got wind that they were there, had tracked them down, had plotted and schemed to finish the job this time, to kill Max, his rival for Annie’s affections, but to let her live. To let her endure the agony of grief over the loss of her husband, to know the anguish of having her daughter taken from her.
Men who feared powerful women wanted to ‘put them in their place’—to control them by violence or the fear of it. And wasn’t Kieron controlling her now? Wasn’t she dangling on a string here, doing the bidding of the mysterious ‘kidnappers’, being hounded, tormented—yes, controlled. Waiting and wondering, hoping against hope that Layla could be saved?
She could be dead already.
Annie knew it.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
Wasn’t that what the Bible said?
She dropped Dolly off, telling her to get word to Jimmy, and then went on over to Queenie’s old house.
An hour later she was sitting in Max’s chair at the head of the table in the upstairs room. It was cold in the house, which was empty but for a bed in one room, this table and chairs in another. No carpets, only curtains. A bare, empty shell. Max should have sold it years ago.
She heard the key in the front door, heard the heavy tread of a man in the hall downstairs. Footsteps coming up the stairs. Suddenly Jimmy Bond appeared in the doorway.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked her, coming into the room and pulling out a chair.
‘I popped in to see Kath today,’ said Annie.
‘Oh?’ Now he looked wary.
‘Bad accident she had,’ said Annie. ‘Marked her face up a bit, poor thing.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Walking into a door, for God’s sake,’ said Annie jovially. ‘She’ll have to take more water with it, won’t she?’
‘Yeah, she’s a clumsy mare,’ said Jimmy with a smile that smacked of relief. ‘Could have been holding the baby, too. Could have dropped the poor little fucker on her head.’
‘Or did she walk into a door?’ Annie’s face was thoughtful. ‘Have I got that right, Jimmy? Is that what happened?’
The wariness was back in his eyes.
‘I think so,’ he said slowly. ‘Wasn’t it? I’ve been busy—ain’t had much time to chat to her.’
‘Well, accidents happen, don’t they?’ said Annie, her eyes hard on his. She knew damned well now that he’d been using Kath as a punchbag. ‘We’ll just have to make sure they don’t in future.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jimmy, looking uncomfortable.
‘Send one of the club cleaners ro
und to help her out a couple of times a week,’ said Annie. ‘It’s a lot to cope with on your own, two little kids.’
He said nothing.
And why the fuck didn’t you think of that yourself, you selfish bastard? wondered Annie angrily. Couldn’t you see the state she was getting into? Or didn’t you even care?
Men! He’d been quick enough to knock her up, but after that he’d clearly lost interest. Got something going on elsewhere, she thought. She was very sure about that now. He had some little tart secreted somewhere living in style, while his own wife struggled on in that pigsty.
‘So what did you want to see me about?’ he asked, pointedly changing the subject.
Yeah, you don’t like this line of conversation, do you?
‘I want to see Billy Black. Oh yeah—and there’s something else. There’s a Delaney involvement in this.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. I think Kieron Delaney’s involved.’
‘You’re crazy,’ said Jimmy.
‘Crazy or not, I’m fucking well fed up with letting these bastards call the tune, so this is what we’re going to do,’ said Annie, and told him the plan.
Jimmy Bond stared at her. ‘Have you gone fucking mad?’ he asked.
‘Nope, I’m sane as you are,’ shot back Annie. ‘I need a bargaining tool.’
‘You have,’ said Jimmy, nodding dazedly. ‘You’ve gone bloody nuts.’
‘Just do it, Jimmy.’
‘You’ll start a fucking war,’ said Jimmy.
Annie stared at him; Jimmy thought she looked mad as a cut snake.
‘It’s already war,’ said Annie flatly. ‘It was war the day they killed Max and Jonjo and decided to abduct my little girl. From that point on, it was war.’
‘You’re fucking crazy,’ said Jimmy.
‘Yeah, could be. But at least I’m fighting back now.’
Fighting back felt good.
And this time, she was fighting fire with fire.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
35
Jimmy wasn’t happy, but for now he was following orders. So Billy Black called two hours later and found Annie still there in the cold, abandoned house.
‘Who is it?’ she asked as Billy knocked at the door.
‘It’s Billy, Mrs Carter.’
Annie opened the door. Billy took off his hat, smoothed down his greasy, thinning hair.
Annie led the way upstairs, Billy following silently behind.
He hovered just inside the door as Annie sat down at the head of the table.
‘Come in and sit down,’ said Annie. ‘Any news yet?’ she asked.
Billy stared at her. It was like pulling teeth, but Annie waited patiently. If you tried to hurry Billy’s thought processes along, he just got muddled and took even longer.
‘Has Constantine Barolli been in touch at all?’ she asked hopefully.
Billy shook his head.
Fuck it! Hadn’t the damned man said he’d sort it? What a load of horseshit. Well, it just went to show. You had to shift for yourself in this world: no one was going to help you. Or, if they did, they’d want a heavy payback in return.
‘There’s something I want you to do for me, Billy,’ said Annie.
Billy looked at her, all attention. Anything his beautiful Annie wanted was perfectly all right with him. He’d always adored her. He still did. He was so pleased she was back. Sorry that she was having trouble, of course. That went without saying. Sad that Max hadn’t come back with her, although he certainly didn’t miss Jonjo, who had always mocked him mercilessly.
‘I want you to tail Jimmy Bond,’ said Annie. It had been playing on her mind, the idea that Jimmy was making a fool out of Kath. One way or another now, she wanted to know the truth, because Kath was her kin and she wasn’t going to let a prick like Jimmy Bond take the piss out of her.
Billy stared at her, open-mouthed with surprise. ‘Jimmy…Bond?’ he queried.
‘That’s right.’
‘Why?’
Annie told him what she wanted to find out. Billy blushed a bit, and chewed his lip.
‘Will you do it?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And you’re sure Mr Barolli hasn’t been in touch at all? It’s very important, Billy. Vitally important.’
‘No. He hasn’t been in touch.’
That fly bastard, thought Annie. Men! All talk and no fucking do.
‘The minute you hear word from him, come straight to me, Billy. All right?’
Billy nodded vigorously.
‘That’s all now, Billy. Thanks for coming.’
And he backed out of the room as though she was the Queen, and loped off down the stairs and out through the front door, closing it softly behind him.
I’m surrounded by fucking idiots, she thought. It wasn’t a comforting thought at all.
She got back to Dolly’s place an hour later. Everything was normal, quiet. Darren was upstairs resting. Una was with a client. Ellie was tidying up in the front room.
‘She’s finished with the game,’ said Dolly as she and Annie sat at the kitchen table.
‘Can’t face it at all now. And I’m not about to force her. So I’m a girl short.’ Dolly sipped her tea. ‘Well, actually, maybe I’m not. Had a word with Aretha, she’d like to do a couple of days a week and Chris has no objections.’
Aretha had been the brothel’s dominatrix before Una got the job. She had married Chris the ex-doorman, much to everyone’s surprise, because they had all thought Ellie would nab him.
‘But then you’ll have two S & M specialists, and who’ll manage the older clients?’ asked Annie.
‘I know. It’s just a stopgap. Aretha’s mellowed, anyway.’ Dolly gave a wry smile. ‘Jesus, next to Una she’s a fucking saint. Una’s a nasty piece of work. I thought she was okay when I first took her on: she was on her best behaviour at the start. Then she started chucking her weight about and, to be honest, she’s pretty bloody scary. You want to watch her, you know. I’m serious…You heard anything from Barolli yet?’
‘No word.’
‘Well it’s early days.’
‘We’re running out of time,’ said Annie. ‘He might be able to find her; he might not. Who knows if he’s even got people looking?’ She ran a hand through her hair and briefly closed her eyes as desperation ate into her again. ‘I need to get the money in place one way or another. Either with his help or without it.’
‘Yeah, but if he’s telling the truth and they find Layla, then you won’t have to worry about the money.’
‘Fat chance. There’s no word. And how the fuck is he going to find her, Doll? Through a bloody psychic?’
‘We’ve got to hope for the best,’ said Dolly.
‘Yeah.’ Annie let out a breath. ‘So what’s Ellie going to do now? Is she stopping or going?’
‘Going?’ Dolly looked at Annie. ‘She’s got nowhere to go, poor cow. I suppose she could pick up a job with the Delaneys, God knows she’s been a good servant to them over the years. But I dunno. For the moment she’s doing a bit of cleaning for me and that’s about it. I’m a bit pissed off about it, really. Her room could take a proper nice brass who could manage our old codgers and some of the younger clients too. But for the moment all I’ve got is Ellie, taking up space and fiddling around with the fucking dusting.’
‘Does she do a good job on the cleaning?’
‘Oh yeah. She does well. Seems to like polishing things, making them all shiny. I told you she’d started on the hand-washing business, didn’t I?—she was getting proper manic about it, and that’s a really bad sign in a brass, as you know.’
Annie did know.
‘Do you think she’d do a bit of cleaning over at my cousin Kath’s place?’
Dolly pulled a face. ‘You’d need a fumigator, not a cleaner, in that dump.’
‘It’d keep Ellie busy, make her feel she’s doing something worth while.’
‘I’ll h
ave a word with her, see what she thinks.’
Ross poked his head around the kitchen door.
‘That nutter Billy Black’s here,’ he said sneeringly, and opened the door wide.
Blimey, that was quick, thought Annie. But Billy was diligent when it came to following Carter orders, she knew that. Now she would find out the real dirt on Jimmy Bond.
Billy came in, taking off his hat, and surprised her.
‘I’ve got news, Mrs Carter,’ he said. ‘From Mr Barolli.’
Annie gulped, her heart kicking into a gallop. Dolly stood up.
‘I’ve got things to do,’ she said. ‘You shout me if you need me, Annie.’
‘No, Doll, stay,’ said Annie. ‘I need you now.’
‘Then you got me,’ said Dolly, and sat back down. ‘Come on, Billy, take a seat. Cup of tea?’
Billy shook his head. He was staring cow-eyed at Annie.
‘One of Mr Barolli’s people told me that he’s been making enquiries,’ he began.
‘And?’
‘And so far there’s no real news.’
Fucking arseholes! Now Annie was truly irritated and exasperated. He’d sent Billy here to tell her that?
‘Is that all?’ she demanded.
Billy shook his head.
Annie took a steadying breath. You couldn’t hurry Billy. Slowly, slowly, she told herself.
‘What else then, Billy?’ she asked.
‘Mr Barolli wants a meet,’ said Billy. ‘With you, Mrs Carter. He wants more details. That’s what his man said.’
Annie stamped down on her exasperation.
‘All right. When and where?’
‘At his house in Holland Park. Three o’clock today.’
Where was she going with this? She didn’t know. In her aching heart Annie felt that this was just another dead end, just another false hope. But any avenue had to be pursued. Any avenue at all.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘You had any luck with Jimmy yet?’
‘No, Mrs Carter,’ said Billy.
‘Okay, keep on it. And you can tell Mr Barolli’s man when you see him that I’ll be there.’
36
‘Tell me anything you know about Constantine Barolli,’ Annie said to Tony as he drove her over to Holland Park.
