‘Are you feeling OK madam?’ one of the officers asked as he stared at her pityingly.
‘What?’ Pearl flapped her arms some more looking startled. ‘Where am I? Is this my room?’ Her gaze skidded towards Fred. ‘Is it dinner time yet?’
Fred sidled up to the cops and whispered, ‘Let me take care of this.’ Then he turned to Pearl and bellowed, ‘has anything been taken from your room Pearl my dear?’
‘Taken?’ She slapped on a terrified expression. ‘Is someone trying to take me? Who?’
Both cops appeared thoroughly fed up now. ‘Valuables,’ one said. ‘Have any valuables been taken?’
‘Oh no,’ She smiled softly. ‘I don’t keep any valuables in my room and I haven’t got any valuables to steal anyway.’
The boys in blue were staring suspiciously at the iron bars, so Pearl added, ‘I’m worried about men breaking in.’ Her voice lowered as she dramatically placed her palm at her throat. ‘You know, an old lady’s not safe anywhere these days.’ She shook her head. ‘What a bad, bad world we live in gentlemen, a very bad world.’
‘Very wise madam. Well, if nothing’s gone and you’re sure the damage is a can of cooking gas blowing its top and there’s no crime here, there’s nothing more we can do.’
Pearl needed to find out if there was a witness. But she couldn’t simply blurt it out because that would put her squarely in the spotlight again. How to get around this…She straightened slightly as a light bulb flashed on in her mind.
She was all innocence as she remarked wildly, ‘Thanks heaven no one was here!’
‘It seems everyone was up Liverpool Street so no harm done. There was one person around though.’
Bingo!
She let him continue. ‘The woman who lives three rooms down. Lin? Said she heard a bit of a muffled bang but didn’t think anything of it so she didn’t investigate.’
The cops looked at each other, gently warned her about the pitfalls of having gas in her room and left when they were radioed about a nasty mugging on the High Street.
But Fred the Red didn’t leave.
When they were alone, he got to work trying to find out what had really gone on. ‘You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you Pearl? Coz your barmy ol’ dear act ain’t fooling me. You’re sharper than a butcher’s cleaver.’ His voice lowered. ‘Maybe I can help?’
She waved him away as she unfurled her backbone fully. ‘Of course not. You said it yourself. It was a gas explosion.’
Fred burst out laughing, his gold tooth twinkling. ‘Oh, do me a favour! The lock on the window was blown off. That’s professionals, that is. An opportunist skaghead don’t use plastic explosives to break into rooms. Nah, this is a proper job by proper people.’
His bowlegs took him to her settee. ‘Look at the state of it. Like Freddie Kruger’s been at it.’ He stared at her shrewdly. ‘What was you hiding in there? Eh? They must’ve known what they was looking for, they ain’t touched nowt else. I mean, I don’t want to poke my snout in but if you’ve got a problem, I might be able to give you a steer. Used to be in the business myself, know what I mean?’ He tapped his nose.
It was a popular boast of Fred’s that he’d been ‘in the know’ and had gone drinking with all the top East End villains. A likely tale. If he’d been in the biz, how come he was living out his days in Happy Hill Home in Stratford instead of on the Costa Del Crime? Fairy stories, every last word of them.
Her voice was leaden. ‘I thank you for the gas story, but turns out this really was a gas explosion. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I need to start clearing up.’
He shrugged, but those eyes of his still drilled into her. ‘Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, you know where I am. I could put some feelers out, get a tickle.’
In way of an answer she clicked her fingers and went, ‘Boom!’
When he was gone Pearl pulled up her kaftan and took out the only spirits she could really commune with - a quart bottle of Wrey and Nephew Overproof rum. She kept it tucked between her racy, lilac garter and thigh. Funny what a body could keep hidden under loose clothing and a scarf. Pearl downed a good slug and shuddered. Man, the stuff could make your eyes roll and nose twitch at the same time. But it couldn’t bring back the gold.
Pearl tucked her secret stash of booze back in its hiding place, gave it thirty minutes until she was sure the coast was clear and then went outside to recover the object that she’d seen lying on the grass earlier. Then she went to Lin Chen’s room three doors down while clutching it and knocked.
Pearl’s ears pricked up. That was shuffling inside alright, but no one answered. She knocked again, more loudly. Still no answer. Finally, she hammered on the door and shouted, ‘Open up Lin, I know you’re in there.’
The door opened a fraction and a bird-like woman with a pale face appeared.
Before Pearl could say a word, Lin barked, ‘I didn’t see anything and I didn’t hear anything, OK? Don’t ask me about it again.’
The door started to shut. Oh no, you don’t! Pearl got her foot in there.
‘I’ve got something for you. You must’ve dropped it earlier.’
She showed Lin the walking stick she’d recovered from the lawn. ‘I know it’s yours because it’s got your name etched on it. Your daughter got it laser engraved for you a few months back, remember?’
As soon as Lin saw the walking stick her frail hand flew to her throat and she started rubbing it. Pearl held back a gasp. One of the many tricks up her sleeve was reading people. She’d honed the skill as part of her essential routine as a bogus fortune-teller. Whoever had nicked the gold had pressed Lin’s walking stick against her throat to scare the bejabbers out of her. The old girl was lucky to still be standing because she had a very delicate heart condition.
The other woman’s hand dropped as she peered out through the narrow gap and opened the door wider. She hesitantly took her stick. ‘Thanks. I dropped it earlier while I was out for a walk.’
Pearl seized her chance. ‘What happened? Who was it? I just need to know. I won’t get you involved.’
The fierce little woman in front of her clutched her stick as if to strike someone and whispered behind her teeth, ‘this is the last time I’m going to say this to you. I didn’t see anything and I didn’t hear anything.’
Lin’s breathing was coming short and frantic. Pearl was terrified that her old ticker was going to give out, so she eased off on the pressure.
‘If that’s how you want to play it.’ She reluctantly turned to go.
But the other woman called out, voice trembling, ‘But I will say this. I don’t know what you’re up to in that room of yours but you’re mixing it with some very dangerous people. If I were you, I’d change my name and move. A very long way away.’
6
‘Right people, prick up your ears and listen up.’
Dee Black’s commanding voice boomed from the steel balcony of the VIP lounge in her club as she gazed down at her staff gathered below. Her legs were braced apart, hands gripping the steel railing so they got it, loud and clear, she meant business with a capital B.
Gone were her usual go-to figure-hugging clothes, replaced by a Marc Jacob’s midnight-black pants suit with belted waist and plain white blouse. She might be projecting the ultimate image of a successful businesswoman, but the shoes and hair of the old Dee she couldn’t let go. Five inch heels, which were bright green, including the soles and Queen Latifah look-a-like weave, short on one side, longer on the other with an electric blue fringe that flopped over her right eye.
‘Every last one of you knows that we’ll be launching on Saturday night.’
Her alert eyes did a sweep. They’d better be opening their ears to every last word coming out of her mouth.
Satisfied she continued, ‘I’ll give you this, you’ve worked your nuts and clits off to get this place right. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still shit to do before the doors open.’ She smiled, but anyone who knew Dee Black would sus it didn�
��t reach her eyes. ‘We get this right on the night, there’s gonna be a hundred nicker top up in your take home.’
A ripple of excitement spread through the group as Dee clicked-clacked her way down the steel staircase with hip swaying style. She positioned herself in front of them on the main dance floor.
‘You’re good to me I’m good to you. See, I’m different from the other club owners round these parts who will pay you bottom dollar for a hard day’s graft. I take care of my people and reward your loyalty in all kinds of ways, including hard cash.’ Dee fixed a deadly expression on her face. ‘If anyone of you feel you can’t be loyal to me you need to hit the door now.’
No one moved. An ominous silence filled the air as Dee resumed. ‘So, I take it that means I’ve got everyone on my side?’ The silence deepened. Dee bit out, ‘I can’t hear ya.’
‘Yes Mizz Dee,’ they chorused smartly, but there was confusion in some of the replies. Something was obviously up.
‘Here’s the thing, can someone explain to me what’s happening here?’
She pulled out the remote for the enormous video-music screen on the wall and hit play.
The screen was grainy for a few seconds and then it filled with footage from one of the security cams. It proceeded to show the back view of one of the female staff, quickly and furtively, loading up a good-sized sports bag with bottles of fizz. Once the deed was done she bolted for the door finally revealing her five-finger discount mug.
The staff gasped as Dee turned her fierce gaze onto the culprit, one of the waitresses. She was a girl more than a woman really but clearly already sliding down the greasy pole.
Bug-eyed, the tealeaf started backing away trying to wriggle her way out of trouble. ‘Mizz Dee, it ain’t what it looks like—‘
Dee stabbed a dangerous finger her way. ‘You’re fucking lucky I’m rigged out in one of my best suits and don’t care to get it dry cleaned or else I’d personally slice off your thieving fingers - real slow - one at a time.’
Lips rippling in disgust, Dee nodded curtly at the head of her security team, who swiftly frogmarched the blubbing waitress out of Dee’s new empire. She was fizzing now and wanted all her people to fully understand what would go down if they tried to mug her off.
‘Anyone else wanna take the rise, you’d best remember that I’m the baddest bitch you will ever – you hear me – ever meet.’ She levelled her accusing finger at the lot of them. ‘The next wanker to try it on…’ Dee dropped her hand, straightened her shoulders and in a tight, soft voice finished, ‘Let me put it this way. It will take your dear mum a whole bloody year before she recognises you again.’
Her chest rose and fell heavily with her warning. ‘Right people, what you standing round looking like a bunch of gorms for?’ She clapped her hands. ‘Chop! Chop! We’ve got work to do.’
They scattered. Dee didn’t move an inch, still fuming. She was trying to restrain herself, holding back an almighty urge to bolt after that sticky-fingered slag and give her what for, right there in the street. But she wouldn’t; that was the old Dee. The new model Dee didn’t get her hands dirty. She had people to do that for her now.
‘You look like you’re ready to batter someone just for smiling.’
The sound of her sister, Jen’s voice, pulled her out of her murderous ravings.
The sisters embraced and kissed on the cheek. Dee still found it hard to get accustomed to this new look Jen with her bottle red, brutal short cut and caked on slap. Not that Jen was looking slutty or anything, but the trademark softness that had been pure Jennifer Miller was long gone and, truth be told, Dee missed it. But then again, Jen needed all the toughness she could muster in her new role as manager of the club.
‘Had to get the staff in line.’ Dee added pointedly, ‘which, last time I looked, was part of your job description as is being on time.’
‘Yeah, sorry bout that,’ Jen answered as they made their way to the bar. ‘Courtney’s class assembly took a lot longer than I thought and the trains were murder on the way back.’
Dee ordered a couple of Tia Maria cocktails as they settled down on the leather kettle stools.
‘My little princess getting on alright in her new school?’ Dee asked.
Dee loved Jen’s girls, Courtney and Little Bea, as if she’d given birth to them. At one time she’d thought they’d be the only kids in her life, along with her Nicky. Now she had her very own slice of royalty, her little prince, Natty.
Her heart squeezed tight with grief. Dee still found it hard to come to terms with her John never being there for their boy. And he was their boy, nobody else’s, no matter what that handy prat Kieran Scott had to say on the matter. Not that he’d blabbed about their secret to give him his due. She stayed clear of him and he stayed clear of her and that’s the way she wanted to keep it. It weren’t right, just not right. That John would never get to be there at Natty’s first birthday, teach him how to play footie, hold him in his big, strong, safe arms. Life could be such a cruel bitch, a fact Dee had learned early in life.
The gentle touch of Jen’s palm covering her own brought her back to the present. Jen smiled sadly, as if reading her thoughts. ‘John would be tickled pink and so proud of you starting up your own place.’
Tears blurred Dee’s vision. She could barely look at Jen with the heartache churning inside her. ‘I wake up in the nights sometimes and reach for him and when my arms come up all empty I can’t believe that my big man has gone.’
‘I know, I know,’ Jen comforted with the tenderness of a mother. ‘But you know what? John was a top geezer who loved life to the max and that’s what he’d want you to be doing. Getting out there and putting your stamp on the world.’ She swivelled on her stool and waved her arms in wonder. ‘Look around you Dee; this club is proper, it could be in Vegas.’
Dee’s dried her eyes. Jen was right. No expense had been spared to bring Dee’s club to life. The building had been a mashed down, neglected joint in Stratford when Dee had managed to nab it for a song; John had taught her well about the ins and outs of haggling. And then Dee had lucked out again - Stratford was picked as the spot for the 2012 London Olympics in five years time. Over night the club’s real estate value rocketed and it become part of what those in the know were saying would be the trendiest part of East London. You couldn’t make that shit up! Yeah, John would be done up for her.
When they were both facing the bar again Jen took a sip of her drink and then smacked her wet lips sourly together. ‘I see that Tiff ain’t put in an appearance.’
Dee arched her brow. ‘I’ve text a reminder.’
Jen slammed her glass down irritated to the core. ‘If you ask me, you’re making a top mistake asking her to look after the bar staff. I love my sis, even though she can be as painful as a splinter in your jacksie when she wants to be, but let’s face it, she can barely look after herself much less an important part of your club. Plus, how can you trust her after that stunt she pulled last year…you know, with the gold.’
Dee’s razor-sharp expression cut Jen to the bone. It reminded her younger sister clearer than an exploding bomb that they never talked about the gold. It had nearly destroyed their family. Sister fighting sister, John dead, Jen and Tiff’s half-sister Flo sticking her oar in before the Miller family was nigh on wrecked by the fall out. Dee shuddered. She didn’t know what had happened to the gold. No one did or at least no one was saying. And Dee liked it that way. She’d come to think the yellow stuff might actually be cursed. She was glad it was gone.
‘Hope I ain’t too late for the proceedings.’
Dee and Jen gave each other the eye before turning to greet their very late baby sister. Dee gave her an all-over up and down. She didn’t know where Tiff had rolled in from, but she was a mess. Looked like she was fleeing some war torn country. Dee took pointed note of her bulging plastic bags. She knew what that meant. Their kid sister was on her travels again.
Dee and Jen looked meaningfully at each again and ann
ounced, in unison, their gazes targeted on Tiff’s manky luggage, ‘You ain’t stopping at mine.’
Tiff tutted as if she couldn’t believe the nerve of them. ‘Ain’t been here two seconds and you’re already on my case. And, I might add, with no offer of something to wet my beak.’
Dee wasn’t in the mood for an all out barney but she had to draw a line. ‘If you’re gonna work here you need to get it through that bonce of yours that we don’t work on Tiff time but Dee time, got it?’
‘Whatever,’ came the glib response as Tiff moved towards them with her customary cocksure swagger. Instead of joining them she made her way round the bar zeroing in on a bottle of super expensive voddy.
Dee was on her feet in a flash. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘You said I was in charge of the bar, innit.’ She tilted the bottle to her lips and swallowed away.
As Jen wore a ‘I told you so’ expression, Dee blew her stack. ‘If you don’t put that slosh down I’ll use the bottle to bang the house rules into your homeless nut.’
Tiff smirked, but she got the message and did as big sis asked. She wiped her mouth cheekily with the back of her hand as she joined them on a stool. ‘Just need to check the goods before we start selling.’
Dee resumed her seat, barely able to keep her backside still as she continued to fume. ‘I think you mean I’m selling. I’ve just had to let someone go for taking the piss. Don’t think coz we share half of the same gene pool you won’t be going the same way if you try any of your sly shit moves here.’
That knocked the stuffing out of Tiff. ‘Don’t be like that Dee, only having a wind up.’
Before Dee could put her further in her place the head of her security appeared. ‘Mizz Dee, some guy wants a word.’
‘About…?’ Her security team were under strict orders not to admit anyone who didn’t have an appointment. Time wasters she could do without.
Blood Secrets_A gripping crime thriller with killer twists Page 4
