Blood Secrets_A gripping crime thriller with killer twists

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  Then she left them and rushed towards the door. Opened up and gasped sharply at the scene before her. Knox had her Tricky Dickie in a headlock, the muscles of her arm bulging round his neck.

  She shouted as if at a dog. ‘Knox! What do you think you’re playing at?’

  The other woman gritted her teeth as she increased the pressure round his neck making his face turn a horrible purple. ‘This toerag tells me to push off so he can see ya. I tell him that ain’t the way it works round here no more. So he decides to come it and I’ve got no choice but to show him who’s daddy of the landing.’

  ‘Let him go,’ Babs cried.

  She was properly mortified at the way Tricky Dickie was being done over. First time he’d been to her gaff in years and the poor bloke was being mauled by one of the wildest animals known to man.

  ‘He’s my…’ Babs searched for the right word, ‘gentleman friend.’

  ‘You mean your shag?’ Knox took away all the romantic gentleness Babs had used. ‘He should have said.’

  Knox let him go and he started coughing and drawing in much-needed air.

  When his colour had calmed down he turned blazing, avenging eyes on to Knox. ‘If I was still wearing a uniform I’d take you down to the station on a charge of assault and battery.’

  Babs heard a gasp, but it wasn’t Knox; Courtney, Little Bea and Dodgy had their faces pressed against the kitchen window watching proceedings with wide-eyed nosiness. They scrambled away when they realised she’d caught them at it, but she wasn’t fooled; they’d probably be hiding beneath the windowsill still trying to get an earful.

  Knox, on the other hand, froze as if a pail of ice-cold sick had been chucked at her. She stared with disgust at Patrick like he smelled bad. Really, really bad.

  ‘You a plod?’ Her broad fingers tensed near her baseball bat leaning near against her chair. Her gaze swung to Babs. ‘You letting some copper dip his wick in ya? You wanna watch that Babs, he could be infectious.’ Knox gobbed on the balcony at her feet.

  Babs’ spine went ramrod straight. She’d had enough of people telling her who she could and couldn’t see. ‘He’s a former policeman, Patrick Johnson, not that it’s any of your beeswax.’

  Knox scoffed. ‘He’s your Johnson is he?’ Then she cackled with laughter. ‘Johnson? Get it? His name?’

  Babs ignored mad girl Knox as she ushered Patrick – she was still getting used to thinking of him with that name – into her home. She felt all fingers and thumbs and could barely make eye contact she was that embarrassed.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ She smiled nervously. ‘Let’s get ourselves into the living room and then I’ll make us some Rosie Lee.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘I don’t want any flippin’ tea.’

  Babs took a half step back at the ferocity of his words and the expression on his face. He looked fit to murder someone and by the looks of things that someone was her.

  ‘Patrick, what’s up?’

  The muscles in his jaw twitched. ‘Why have you got some she-cat heavy doing sentry duty outside your front door?’

  Babs could barely breath. She should’ve sussed that him being a retired cop meant he’d twigged straight off what Knox was doing. She tried to brazen her way through, her gaze dancing around. ‘There’s been a couple of break ins in the block so my mate Knox is—‘

  He leaned down into her. ‘Why are you lying to me?’

  The last time he’d spoken to her so harshly was back in ’78, in his motor, trying to convince her that Stan wasn’t the man she thought he was. Babs wasn’t scared of him, but it hurt so bad inside her to hear him talk to her in such a manner.

  Another lie came to her lips, but she swallowed it down. How could she say she loved this man, promised to tie the knot with him and blag to his face at the same time?

  Her shoulders slumped. ‘I’m not at liberty to tell you.’

  His hand ruffled furiously threw his hair. Then it reached down into his pocket and he handed her a twenty bill. ‘Does it have anything to do with this?’

  Her face turned pasty as she read the message. And read it again.

  He began to pace. ‘Know how I got that? It wasn’t posted nice and neat through my letterbox, let me tell you that. I got jumped in the street and was left with that calling card.’

  Her mouth formed an O as she reached out to him, but Patrick stepped back.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Now she understood how he’d got the bruise on his jaw.

  His voice lowered as he pleaded, ‘Babs tell me what trouble you’re in. Let me help you.’

  She was desperate to. But she couldn’t. Her family were stuck with it but he wasn’t. He could still walk away. If anything happened to him she would never forgive herself. ‘I can’t.’

  He shook his head like the sadness of the world was squarely on his shoulders. ‘I can’t do this. Can’t marry you.’

  Her heart missed a beat as her harsh breath caught in her throat. ‘Wha’cha mean?’

  ‘You were right. We live in different worlds. I can’t go through life looking over my shoulder wondering who might be waiting for me on the street because of this.’ His hand waved round the hallway.

  ‘But it will be over soon—‘

  ‘Until the next thing. And then the next.’ She let him walk to the door though she desperately wanted to snatch him back. Hold on to him forever. Never let him go.

  He gazed at her in a way that no one could doubt she was the most precious thing to him. ‘I love you Babs Miller. Probably always will. I know it’s a cliché, but love sometimes isn’t enough.’

  Then he closed the door in her face the same way she’d done to Kieran last year.

  ‘Nanna, you alright?’

  She heard Courtney’s soft voice and half turned to find the girls staring at her, their bodies a hair’s breath from running to her. She’d love nothing more than to feel their arms around her, comforting her, giving her their unconditional love when the bottom had dropped out of her world. Nah, that wasn’t going to happen. No way was she going to fall apart in front of them. She had to remain the strong one in this family.

  Babs wiped her nose with the back of her hand and put on a brave smile. ‘I’m fine. Do me favour Courtney luv; in half hour bring a cuppa to my room. This stays between us and Knox, alright?’

  Head held high Babs went to her room and closed the door firmly behind her. Then she flattened her back against it and slid to the floor. She thrust her fist into her mouth to muffle her cries of anguish. The love of her life was gone for good.

  And there was nothing she could do about it.

  48

  Fred seized Pearl’s arm, something fierce, his voice low for their ears alone.

  ‘I don’t like this. Whatever it is, don’t open it. Bring it to me first and I’ll take it out into the gardens and have a gander at it.’

  They were in the dayroom where ‘Escape To the Country,’ was showcasing properties on The Costa on the telly. Fred’s warning came off the back of the receptionist informing Pearl that a postman with a package for her was waiting at the front desk. He couldn’t leave it because she needed to sign for it. The receptionist waited, none too patiently, in the doorway like she had to get away to do her nails.

  Pearl was jumpy after having her room rearranged but even she thought Fred was going over the top. ‘What you saying? It might be a bomb or something?’

  ‘I’m just warning ya. No harm in me having a proper nose at it first.’

  Pearl had a think about. Then patted his hand in gratitude and got to her feet. Even if there turned out to a problem she didn’t need her hand held. Plus Fred needed to rest still looking worn down by Vi’s death.

  Fred clucked his tongue in irritation but she ignored him. She followed the receptionist out front where she found a postie in a uniform and baseball cap waiting for her. Outside was his GPO red van. On the desk was a shoebox-shaped package.

  ‘I need you to sign for this,’ the postman said.
>
  Somewhere between the dayroom and reception, Pearl began to wonder if it really might be a bomb. She’d warned her grandsons to knock it off but that didn’t mean that Babs wasn’t going to still try it on.

  ‘I dunno, what is it?’ she said cautiously.

  The postman huffed as if he’d missed his tea break. ‘I’m a postman darlin’, I just deliver stuff. If I’d looked inside I’d be committing a criminal offence. Tampering with Her Majesty’s mail is against the law.’

  Pearl gave him an arched look. She had a right smart aleck on her hands.

  She edged closer. The parcel seemed legit but she still wasn’t convinced. ‘Who’s it from?’

  The postman obviously wasn’t used to the public refusing packages. ‘Look luv, do you want it or not? Only I’m running late and have got targets to meet. I can take it back to the sorting office while you make your mind up but then you’ll have to come and fetch it yourself if you decide you want it. And bring ID.’

  As Pearl examined the label she noticed something. ‘This isn’t for me – it’s for Pearl Holland. I’m not Pearl Holland, I’m Pearl Hennessy. The address is wrong as well.’

  The postman looked at the parcel and then at his notebook. He went scarlet with embarrassment. ‘Oh right – that’s the wrong parcel. My mistake. Your one must still be in the van. Hold on a minute.’

  He picked up the package and walked out, muttering to himself and then opened the shutter on his van and threw the package inside before climbing in.

  The receptionist went back to work and Pearl stood with her arms folded waiting for the guy to come back with her delivery.

  Postman Pat is taking his time, Pearl thought with impatience as the minutes ticked by. She waited some more and more still. In a huff Pearl walked over to the doors and peered out. How many parcels did he have in there for it to take this long? She opened the doors, rubbed her arms against the cool breeze as she walked outside. The shutter on the van was pulled low with only a few feet open so she couldn’t see inside. There was no noise either.

  ‘Hello?’ she called hesitantly.

  The postman’s voice came, all jolly and jaunty. ‘Wait there a minute luv…Ah, here it is. Found it.’

  The shutter flew open startling Pearl. Four arms flew out and grabbed her under the armpits. Lifted her up and yanked her into the van. She opened her mouth to scream but a determined palm slammed over it keeping her sound of terror locked in her throat. The hand belonged to a woman, but with thick fingers like a navvy.

  Pearl was forced to the floor, like a ragdoll. Then the woman sat on her. A fist banged on the inside of the van. It took off like a bat out of hell.

  The woman pulled her hand from Pearl’s mouth. She gasped and spluttered for air. Her lungs burned as she struggled to fill them, hyperventilating from shock and the weight of the ten tonne bitch. Then honest to God fury consumed her. Fury at herself that she could have been so dumb as to be lifted in this way by a couple of chancers.

  ‘Ere – put this mail bag over her head and tie her hands up.’

  Her body stiffened at the male voice. Did that mean there were three of them? Two in the back, one up front? Whoever this bloke was he wasn’t the pretend postman. His accent was pure East London and sounded like he was used to being Top Dog.

  ‘Stop with the wriggling, you dopey bint,’ heavy moo ordered, ‘or I’ll make the knots so tight your hands will drop off.’

  The woman sounded like the kind of bird who appears on reality TV shows explaining why the neighbours on the estate hate her kids.

  The man sniggered, ‘don’t worry about her hands. She won’t need them where she’s going.’

  ‘She will, she’s gotta do some digging.’

  The guy was laughing now. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot. We should have brought some gardening gloves.’

  The van rocked with their twin laughter.

  Pearl tried to sound defiant but her nerves got the better of her and her words trembled. ‘I suppose this is Babs’ doing, is it?’

  The man mocked her. ‘Never you mind; you just think of some famous last words.’

  Pearl couldn’t actually believe that Babs was behind this. She couldn’t believe her one-time mate would stoop this low.

  ‘Is it about the gold? Babs knows I don’t have it – she has. Why’s she doing this? I…I…’ But she couldn’t get the words out.

  Pearl wanted to cry. Not because she was scared – she’d had enough near-death experiences in her life to face the darkness – but because she wouldn’t see her grandsons again. Never hear her kids finally forgive her for abandoning them. As the awful thoughts tumbled inside her Pearl didn’t even realise she was hiccupping with sobs.

  ‘Oh shut it with blubbing.’ That’s the first time Pearl realised the woman’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. ‘I mean, we’ve all gotta go sometime. How old are you – sixty? Sixty-five? That’s nearly your three score and ten anyway. A woman of your age taking a long walk off a short pier, let’s face it, we’re not talking ‘taken from us too soon’ here, are we?’

  The man’s next words made Pearl hold her breath. ‘What’s the best way of getting rid of a body?’

  ‘Chainsaw. Mind you that would be really messy. Imagine all that gory blood and shattered bone. Yuk! What bout an acid bath? Ain’t that how the Mob got rid of their unwanted?’

  ‘A mail sack, some weights and a fishing boat, were the only tools you’d need,’ he insisted with what sounded like first hand knowledge. With triumph he added, ‘and look! I brought a mailbag with us! Who says I don’t think ahead!’

  As the journey went on and on Pearl was goaded by their taunts and she began to hit back. ‘You won’t get away with this. I know people, people who’ll track your murdering arses down and make you pay.’

  The man was unimpressed. ‘Do ya? Where are they then? I’m afraid you’ve gotta face it old girl; you’ll just be another missing person on police files. There’s millions of ‘em, nobodies who came and went and no one ever knew where. It’s quite sad really. All those missing persons fading from their loved one’s memories with just a few photos to remind them as they get old.’

  The van seemed to have left the main road and was bumping over potholes and cattle grids. That gave way to the sound of branches breaking and the vehicle swaying as it drove over rough ground. They grinded slowly to a halt.

  The guy explained, sarky to the hilt, ‘here we are then – Epping Forest — the gangland cemetery! ‘

  The only sound was the wind in the trees and a hooting owl. The shutters crashed open. Pearl was unceremoniously dragged out. The bag jerked off her head, the rope round her wrists cut.

  She squinted in the full beam of the strong headlights in the gathering darkness. The two figures wore balaclavas and looked like ghouls from a horror film. One of the ghouls was carrying a shovel. The man.

  ‘Alright Pearlie Queen, I’d like you to dig me a hole please, about six foot long and a few feet deep. I mean that’s just a rough guide, there’s no need to get it exactly right, I’m flexible.’

  ‘Dig your own fucking hole, you cocky, evil monster.’

  The bloke sighed and pulled a shooter from his jacket and held it to the side her head. ‘If you don’t dig me a hole I’m gonna plug my brand of holes in you and I know exactly where to place them to cause a lingering and very painful death. Now get fucking digging.’

  Pearl knew she didn’t have a choice, so she picked up the shovel and did as told. They watched her like hawks. Her knees and back ached and she’d only been going for ten minutes. Well, fuck the pair of them, no way was she stopping and pleading for her life. She’d grown up tilling the land in Jamaica and knew all about getting her hands dirty.

  In the end it wasn’t much of a hole that Pearl dug, but it seemed to satisfy the gunman. He pushed her into it and then hunched down beside her.

  He held the pistol to her temple. ‘Right, this is your last chance or this is goodbye. Now then – where’s the gold?’


  With the blinding light from the headlamps, his covered face and the gathering darkness all Pearl could see of him was a menacing, black shadow.

  ‘I haven’t got the gold. Babs knows that. If she’s promised you a cut, you’ve been had.’

  ‘Oh dear, that’s disappointing…’ The pressure of the gun increased against Pearl’s head.

  He waited for a long time before she finally felt the gun shake slightly. She gripped her hands together and prayed for her children’s forgiveness.

  He pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing happened. But he wasn’t done with her. He pulled the trigger again. Another dull thud of the empty chamber.

  The ghoul looked at his gun with mock surprise and then up at the woman who loomed over them. ‘Would you fucking Adam and Eve it? I only went and forgot to bring any bullets.’

  The woman sneered, ‘Some gangland boss you are!’

  And that’s when Pearl recalled who the woman’s voice belonged to. That twisted, bully-girl Knox. She’d been Top Bitch of the wing Babs and Pearl had been banged up in. Inside Pearl raged. She’d teach that slag to mess with her. Pearl kept schtum about her new knowledge.

  The bloke continued to rabbit on. ‘Well, in every criminal scheme, there’s always one fatal flaw. Mine was to forget to bring any shells.’

  He rose to his feet and looked down at a secretly seething Pearl. ‘Alright, this is your final warning. I haven’t got time for this kind of Drury Lane theatre. If you don’t return my client’s yellow stuff, the next time you see me will be to the tune of gunfire. Real gunfire.’

  The two figures walked back and climbed in the van and sped off.

  Pearl clambered out of her grave screaming, ‘I haven’t got the gold, you fucking idiots!’

  49

  ‘Courtney Miller! The headmistress would like to see you in her office at once please!’

  The deputy head had barged into her classroom, mid-lesson, and called out to Courtney like a prison warder. Mrs Freeman was a very attractive woman and knew it. Word was she’d been putting it about with any dad who was worth a million plus.