Life of Crime

by Kimberley Chambers

  Melissa opened her eyes. ‘Because he had to drop Toby off at his sister’s house first. He’ll meet us at the court.’

  ‘How long does a jury usually take to reach a decision?’

  ‘It varies. Not being rude, Shay, but I really don’t feel like talking. I had no sleep again last night and can barely think straight. Why don’t you put your headphones on, listen to some music.’

  When Shay attached her Beats to her ears, Melissa shut her eyes again. Giving evidence had been one of the worst experiences of her life. Tracey had understandably looked at her with hatred throughout, as she’d told lie after lie. ‘You absolute fucking wrong ’un. I thought you was my friend, you evil bitch. I’ve been set up. She knew all about Greg and the gun. Tell ’em. Go on, tell ’em the truth,’ Tracey had screamed at her at the top of her voice, before being carted away to calm down.

  ‘How could you do this to me, Mel? I loved you, like a sister. My DNA was only inside that property because you asked me to meet you there and you showed me around. Why are you lying? Tell them the truth, I beg you. Please,’ Tracey had sobbed on another occasion. Melissa had run out the court that day, hadn’t been able to handle it.

  Jason’s nan had been another thorn in Melissa’s side. ‘You’ve got the wrong person in the dock. It should be her on trial, Jason’s wife,’ Peggy had pointed out. ‘She’s the one who had him topped, you thick bastards.’

  Another time, Peggy had mentioned the painting. ‘He’d just come into a lot of money, my Jason. He’d sold a very expensive painting. That’s why his wife had him murdered. Ask her where the money is. Go on, ask the evil conniving gold-digging whore,’ Peggy had screamed at the jury. Thankfully for Melissa, the judge had slung Peggy out that day and told her not to come back.

  Melissa wished there had been another way, but there hadn’t. Under no circumstances would Jason have allowed her and Simon to set up home together, raising his son. He would have demanded a DNA test, then made sure she and Simon never saw Toby again. Tracey would’ve sided with Jason too, especially if he was fucking her occasionally. Knowing Jason as well as she did, he might’ve even moved in with the deceitful slapper as some kind of sadistic payback. Jason was jealous-natured and would have hated her to be happy with another man, especially Simon.

  The moment Toby had been born, Melissa had known. The likeness to Bobby was uncanny, eerie in fact. Desperate for her fears not to be true, she had tried to push her suspicions to the back of her mind. But the more Toby began to develop, the more she could see Jason in him, so she’d visited her husband in prison, swiped a plastic cup he’d drunk out of, and sent it, along with a swab out of Toby’s mouth, for a DNA test. The test confirmed her very worst nightmare and Melissa had cried herself to sleep for weeks afterwards. She’d been unable to get the vision of her husband and Tracey fornicating out of her mind. How long had they been seeing each other? Had he been fucking Tracey when he married her? Did he love Tracey? All sorts of questions tainted Melissa’s thoughts and that’s when the hatred had started to fester. She’d been a good wife to Jason, loyal, had even raised his daughter. She deserved better, much better, so she’d hatched a plan to get her hands on his money. Many a time she’d wanted to tell the no-good bastard and her so-called best friend that she knew their sordid little secret, but that would’ve blown her plan to smithereens. So she’d bided her time, polished her sweetness-and-light act, while secretly planning her revenge.

  Acting normally around Tracey wasn’t easy, but as time went by, Melissa actually quite enjoyed pulling the wool over her treacherous friend’s eyes. By then, she and Simon were in cahoots. Having always valued Simon as a family friend, Melissa could not keep such an awful secret from him, so after some deliberation had told him the truth about Toby. Simon had been devastated beyond belief, would have throttled Jason with his bare hands had he not been in prison. But Melissa had urged him not to do or say anything rash. ‘Between us, we can con him out of that money he gets for the painting, Si. He owes us both big time, so let’s hurt him where it’ll hurt him the most, in his pocket,’ she’d suggested.

  As she and Simon plotted and planned, feelings they never knew they’d had for each other began to develop. Learning Toby was Jason’s flesh and blood made no difference to the way either of them felt about him. Toby was a beautiful boy with a soul to match. Nobody would ever replace Bobby, but Melissa cherished Toby as though he were her own, as did Simon. That would never change, no matter what.

  Shay’s voice snapped Melissa out of her daydream. ‘See those flats, Mel? They look exactly the same as the one me and Dad lived in. In Buckhurst Hill,’ Shay pointed out miserably. She missed her father terribly. Throughout those years he’d spent in prison, they’d written, spoken on the phone regularly and she’d been able to visit him. Now all she had to visit was his grave, and she hated going there. The thought of her handsome, strapping father’s corpse lying in that coffin was too much for Shay to bear.

  Also being driven to the court was Tracey Thompson. She’d spent the past eight months residing in Holloway Prison and had hated every single second of it. A gang of black women regularly picked on her, bar one, a fat lesbian who insisted on being called Beyoncé. She looked nothing like bloody Beyoncé and Tracey was more scared of her frequent heavy-handed advances than the actual bullies.

  Chewing furiously at what was left of her fingernails, Tracey thought about Melissa. She hated her one-time best pal with an absolute passion now, and if she could have smuggled a knife into court today, she would’ve stabbed the lying bitch through the heart.

  What Mel had done to her was beyond despicable. She’d sworn on the bible, then lied through her teeth while giving evidence. Simon had also lied. He hadn’t known about the sports bag or the gun, neither had he known much about her relationship with Greg. But he had known full well she did not know the code to the safe in his office. She hated him now too, but nowhere near as much as she despised Melissa. Tracey had trusted her like a sister; even let the sad bitch play mother to her son, and this was how she’d repaid her.

  There was no doubt in Tracey’s mind that she’d been set up and Greg was the bait. She had genuinely thought he’d liked her, could be ‘The One’, and now felt incredibly stupid at being conned. She’d even let the no-good bastard shag her up the arse. Tracey had told her solicitor all about Greg and had demanded DNA and fingerprints be taken from her house to catch him. Unfortunately for her, there had been no match on the police database with anybody called Greg Richardson, and Tracey now doubted that was his real name. He was probably called Charlie or Tom, or knowing her fucking luck, Brad. No wonder he had been so vague all the time, giving nothing away about his life. She didn’t have a clue who the hell he was and kicked herself all day every day for being so bloody gullible.

  As the meat wagon slowed down, Tracey concentrated on what she did know. The only reason she could think of for Melissa betraying her in such a cruel manner was Mel wanted her son. No way could she be involved in Jason’s murder. Melissa was weak, gutless and wouldn’t be able to live with herself. It must’ve been Simon who’d ordered the hit on Jason. He’d found out that Jason was Toby’s father and told Mel. That had to be it. There was no other viable explanation, none whatsoever.

  Outside the Old Bailey, Johnny Brooks greeted his daughter with a comforting hug. ‘Not long now and it will all be over,’ he reassured her.

  Melissa was now on very good terms with her father. They’d built bridges while Jason was in prison. She’d never told Jason, because it was sod-all to do with him, but she’d finally forgiven her dad for all his wrongdoings. Shirley Stone was actually a very nice lady. Melissa had spent a lot of time in her company these past few months, and they got on extremely well. Her father and Shirley were the only other people who knew she and Simon were in love, and she and Si now spent a lot of time over in Llafranc on the Costa Brava where her dad and Shirley lived. They would travel separately on different days to avoid any unwanted suspicion
. Simon would even fly to a different airport, then travel to Llafranc by car. It was the only place they could be a proper couple and both of them had fallen in love with the pretty costal town. Unlike a lot of the Costa Brava it wasn’t overrun with tourists. It was an idyllic location for them to blend in.

  Greg’s real name was Duncan Pierce. Her father had met the handsome, charismatic con man in Spain. Duncan lived on the Costa Brava, not far from where Johnny was based. Melissa knew Tracey’s taste in men to a T and the second she’d clapped eyes on Duncan at a secret meeting arranged by her father, she had known her pal would fall hook, line and sinker for him, providing he played his cards right. ‘Tracey has always seen herself as a gangster’s moll. You need to have an air of mystery about you to keep her interest. You also need to flash the cash. She is extremely money-orientated,’ Melissa had informed Duncan.

  The night at the Prince Regent had been all planned out. Then at the last minute Melissa had been totally thrown off balance when Tracey suddenly insisted they should go to Club 195 instead. As long as she could remember, Melissa had gone along with whatever Tracey wanted. But that night she’d stuck to her guns. Thankfully, Tracey had agreed.

  Duncan had been brilliant in schmoozing Tracey, gaining her trust, and hoodwinking her. It had been his idea to set up a tiny camera in Tracey’s walk-in-wardrobe after Melissa had told him Tracey wouldn’t be able to stop herself from looking inside the sports bag. The camera had since been disposed of, along with the video evidence of Tracey handling the gun with her bare hands. Melissa and Simon had been shown the webcam footage and chuckled over it for days afterwards.

  It hadn’t been Duncan who had carried out the actual hit on Jason though. An associate of his had been responsible for that. Whoever it was wished to remain anonymous, and that suited Mel and Simon. They had no desire to know his name, as long as the job had been carried out properly.

  Thick Tracey had entrusted Greg with her spare key, therefore it was Duncan who planted the blood-splattered clothes, shoes and gun inside Tracey’s house. The whole operation had cost Simon a hundred grand plus expenses, but seeing Toby’s happy face on a regular basis, Melissa knew it was money well spent. Toby knew nothing of his birth mother’s predicament. She and Simon planned to sit him down after the trial to explain in a way a child would understand. Toby barely mentioned Tracey these days anyway. All he’d been told was that Mummy had gone on a long holiday, and he seemed happy with that. He hadn’t even asked when she was coming back.

  ‘You OK, love? You’re miles away.’ Johnny Brooks nudged Melissa’s arm.

  ‘Yeah – well no, not really. Say she gets away with it, Dad. What then?’

  ‘She won’t get away with it. She’ll go down for life, you mark my words.’ His Carol had loathed Tracey Thompson from the first day their daughter had brought her home. ‘She’s trouble that one. A bad apple. Let’s hope Mel’s friendship with her fizzles out quickly,’ were Carol’s exact words.

  Melissa thought back to all the witness statements. She’d invited certain people to Jason’s homecoming knowing they would stand up in court if need be. She’d also plied Tracey with alcohol, knowing full well it would lead to her slagging off Jason.

  Eleanor Collins-Hythe had stood in the witness box and told the jury, ‘In my opinion, Tracey Thompson had an unhealthy interest in Jason Rampling. She would not stop talking about him that evening at the party. She even told me about an affair he’d once had with a woman called Charlotte. I told her she was wrong to be discussing her friend’s business behind her back, but she just carried on regardless.’

  Knowing what a nosy cow Eleanor was, Melissa had wanted to laugh. She wasn’t a bad person though, unlike Tracey.

  Another witness had been Melissa’s personal trainer, Roy Nixon. He’d also heard Tracey slagging off Jason and had seen her follow him out into the garden, where an argument seemed to occur.

  Ann, Melissa’s neighbour, had been fantastic in court. She pulled no punches, did Ann. She’d stood there as bold as brass in her Primark tracksuit and told the jury, ‘Tracey Thompson is a bunny-boiler. You ever watched that film Fatal Attraction? Well, that’s how she was over Jason. The woman is a complete and utter fruitcake.’

  The only witness who hadn’t come across well was Simon’s supposed ex-girlfriend, Sally-Ann. She hadn’t wanted to take the stand and had spent the whole time glaring at Simon. Melissa remembered the evening well when Simon had showed her the woman he’d chosen off the dating site. They’d needed a decoy in case anyone suspected their relationship. ‘Jesus, Si. She’s got a nose like Concorde. You could have picked a better-looking one,’ Melissa had laughed.

  ‘Morning, Melissa. No word re the jury yet, but my instinct tells me we’ll have a verdict by the end of the day. Don’t hold me to that, mind,’ DI Noakes said. He was in an extremely buoyant mood this morning, 99 per cent certain the decision would go their way.

  Feeling jittery, Melissa forced a smile. She hadn’t wanted to attend court today, could not face looking Tracey or the jury in the eyes again. Say the jury had worked out she’d lied? They might send her to prison instead. She’d started to freak out last night and it was Simon who’d insisted she must attend. ‘It’ll look bad if you’re not there. One more day, babe, and it’ll all be over, for good,’ he’d told her.

  When Simon appeared minutes later, Melissa said a casual ‘Hello’ then excused herself to use the toilet. What if Tracey started shrieking what was very near the truth out loud again? Had the jury believed her version of events? Tracey obviously had no idea that her and Simon were an item, as Melissa knew without a doubt she’d have screamed that out too.

  Splashing her face with cold water, Melissa stared at her reflection in the mirror while giving herself a good talking to. She couldn’t crumble now, she’d come too far.

  Tracey Thompson paced her cell like a woman possessed. ‘Fucking bitch, lying slag, evil whore,’ she shrieked as Melissa’s face popped into her thoughts.

  The jury were still deliberating, which was a good sign according to her solicitor. Surely they would see through all the lies? As if she’d be stupid enough to hide the murder weapon and evidence in her own home had she committed such a crime! It was ridiculous to even suggest such a thing.

  Wondering how Toby was, tears poured down Tracey’s cheeks. He’d be getting big now, and must miss her terribly. If only her own stupid mother hadn’t sodded off to Turkey, she could have looked after Toby.

  Convincing herself the verdict would be a positive one, Tracey allowed herself a wry smile. Once she was set free, she would hire a solicitor and tell the truth about who Toby’s father really was. That would give her total control, and she would ensure Melissa and Simon never saw her son again. That would teach the lying bastards not to mess with her.

  Not in the mood to join in with Simon and her father’s conversation, Melissa sat outside the court alone and thought back to all the evil things Tracey had done to her. It made her sick to the stomach to think what a fool her so-called best friend and Jason must’ve thought she was. They’d always acted like they loathed one another in front of her, when in reality they were fucking one another’s brains out. How they must have laughed at her in private, made jokes about how thick she was. Well, not any more. Jason had paid the ultimate price for underestimating her and, hopefully by the end of today, Tracey would too.

  Melissa’s mind drifted back to her schooldays. Tracey had been a bully, always picking on less popular girls in the playground. Truth be known, Melissa had only started knocking around with her in the first place because she was scared of Tracey. She was the type of girl that you were better having on side than not.

  Melissa was snapped out of her reminiscing by the sound of Simon’s voice. ‘The jury are back. They’ve reached a decision.’

  Stony-faced, Tracey Thompson stood in the dock glaring at Melissa. The bitch wouldn’t look back at her, which was hardly surprising, considering the wicked lies she’d told.
/>   The judge cleared his throat. ‘Will the foreman of the jury please stand up?’

  Melissa was sitting between her father and Shay. She clenched her father’s right hand and Shay’s left. ‘Please God, let her be found guilty. Please, please, please,’ she mumbled, staring into her lap.

  ‘Have you reached a decision on which you all agree?’ the judge asked the foreman.

  ‘Yes, your honour.’

  ‘Defendant, please stand,’ the judge barked.

  Tracey stood up and clung to the dock, her hands trembling. They had to find her innocent, she had done nothing wrong.

  ‘On the count of murder, do you find the defendant, Tracey Louise Thompson, guilty or not guilty?’

  Melissa’s heart was in her mouth. She could barely breathe.

  ‘Guilty, your honour.’

  ‘Yes!’ Shay yelled, leaping up in triumph. ‘Rot in hell, bitch.’

  Tracey’s knees buckled from under her. ‘Noooo. You can’t do this to me. I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing wrong. I would never hurt Jason,’ she sobbed.

  Thoroughly drained, Melissa clung to her father for dear life.

  Eyes blazing with fury, Tracey turned to the jury. ‘You stupid cunts! She’s a liar. I told the truth. Jason is the father of my child, you morons. I loved him. I’ve always loved him.’

  As two prison officers made a grab for her, Tracey began wriggling like an eel. She kicked one, spat at the other, then turned to Melissa and pointed. ‘This ain’t over, you lying slag. I’ll have you for this; you won’t get away with it. Over my dead body will you bring up my son, you conniving two-faced fucker.’

  Judges in English courts rarely used gavels any more, but Judge Sutton was old school. Banging away, he glared at Tracey over the rim of his glasses. ‘Get her out of my sight,’ he bellowed. ‘Take her down.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  2010 – One Year Later