Unable to listen to any more home truths, a tearful Joanna slammed the phone down.
As soon as Mary left for her weekly game of bingo, Donald tapped on his son’s bedroom door. Christopher had been acting oddly for a while now, and Donald knew there was more to his son’s change of behaviour than Christopher was letting on.
Though still only twenty-three, Christopher considered himself to be more mature than most men his age. However, when his father started asking questions, he felt an overwhelming urge to throw himself into his arms, just like he had when he was a small child.
‘Whatever is it, son? Is it Olivia? Have you split up with her?’
Christopher shook his head. Ever since he had received the anonymous phone call, he had felt as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. It was affecting his work, his relationship with Olivia, everything. Unable to confide in his colleagues and desperate to relieve himself of some of the burden, Christopher blurted it all out to his father in three long sentences.
Donald felt his face drain of colour. He was so proud of his son’s career and recent promotion, and he had honestly thought that what had happened all those years ago in Whitechapel would never rear its ugly head again.
‘What should I do, Dad? Whoever it is knows everything. I know it can’t be proved that I lied on Vinny’s behalf as a kid, but any investigation could ruin my career. Mud sticks, doesn’t it?’
As a child, Donald had had a habit of chewing on his lip when he was nervous, and even though he could not remember doing so for years, he was chewing away with a vengeance now. His son joining the police force had filled him with pride, but Christopher becoming a detective sergeant just days after his twenty-third birthday had left Donald in a state of euphoria. The thought that his entire future could be in jeopardy filled him with horror. ‘You can’t tell anybody at work about this, son. You must meet this mystery caller on your own if he rings back.’
‘But that’s against police policy. We’re supposed to inform our superiors of such situations, and it’s official policy that we meet informants in pairs, never alone. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of officers do bend the rules and don’t record these meetings, but I take after you, Dad. I have morals and I play by the book.’
Donald put his hands on his son’s shoulders and stared him directly in the eyes. ‘I know you do, son, and I’m proud of you for that. But in this instance, you need to take a different approach. As you said, whoever contacted you with information obviously wants to see Vinny Butler put behind bars just as much as we and the police probably do. Imagine what being involved in such a high-profile arrest would do for your career, eh? You could be a detective inspector before you know it.’
Christopher forced a smile. His dad had always been his hero. He had never given him wrong advice in his lifetime, so why should he distrust his wise words now? ‘OK. As soon as I get the phone call, I’ll meet this informant alone. But you mustn’t tell anybody about this conversation, and there is no way you can go on holiday to Eastbourne now, Dad. Vinny could be there for all we know. It’s far too dangerous.’
‘What am I meant to say to your mother, Christopher? The holiday’s booked and our chalet is nowhere near the Butlers. I only agreed to go for Daniel and Adam’s sake. I know you refuse to have anything to do with them, but even though they’re Michael’s sons, they are fine boys.’
‘I don’t give a damn how fine they are, Dad. I do not want you going to Eastbourne and that’s final. I need you here with me.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Donald waited until the Friday before he feigned a bad stomach bug. ‘I can’t travel at the moment, love, not while I’m like this. I need to be near a lavatory for obvious reasons. You go down to Kings with Nancy and the boys, and I’ll follow as soon as I’m feeling up to it.’
‘Aw, but you might feel better by tomorrow, Donald. Most sickness-type bugs only last twenty-four to forty-eight hours, you know.’
‘Mary, I would never forgive myself if I passed this on to you or the boys and spoilt everyone’s holiday.’
‘OK, but I want you to promise me you’ll drive down as soon as you feel better. I know what you’re like for not being able to tear yourself away from the café. Don’t you let me and the boys down.’
Rather than make his wife a promise he knew he could not keep, Donald put his hand over his mouth and bolted towards the bathroom again. Christopher’s career and his needs were far more important than a week’s bloody holiday.
Little Vinny finished stocking up the mixers, then without being prompted, made his father a cup of tea.
‘Good lad. Take your lunch break now. What do ya fancy? I could murder a lump of cod and chips.’
‘I’ll go down the chippy, Dad. I fancy a saveloy and a sausage in batter.’
Vinny handed his son a tenner, then allowed himself a rare moment to remember the departed. Little Vinny had all but taken Lenny’s job over now, and even though he enjoyed having his son work with him, watching him do all the jobs his cousin used to do brought back painful memories.
Reminiscing about Roy was a different kettle of fish. Vinny could think about his brother all day long without getting upset. He was glad they’d had one final chat and he treasured the letter Roy had left him. He had even abided by most of his brother’s wishes, and he was sure if Roy was looking down he’d be pleased that he had now stopped taking cocaine. He wouldn’t be so chuffed with Michael though, which is why Vinny had rung his father for a chat the other day. Dorothy’s death had given him the perfect opportunity to do so.
Feeling his stomach churn, Vinny shuddered. The first deal with Richie had been arranged for seven o’clock this evening and even though Vinny was looking forward to earning decent money again, he was also shitting his pants. Killing people had never bothered Vinny, but there was something about participating in a big drug deal that put the fear of God in him.
Little Vinny checked out his reflection in the chip-shop window. He looked a right numpty in the old tracksuit he had on. All the skinhead clobber he’d recently thieved was hidden at Ben Bloggs’ house, and Little Vinny hated not being able to dress in the style he had become so accustomed to. His hair was growing rapidly as well. He’d asked the barber for a number one when he’d first had it cut, but it had grown into at least a number three now. Give it another month and he wouldn’t even resemble a skinhead at all.
Running back to the club to ensure lunch would still be piping hot, Little Vinny plastered a false smile on his face as he handed his dad his food and change. There was a method in his madness. His old man had driven Jo and Molly down to Eastbourne first thing this morning and Little Vinny was sure if he played his cards right, he would be allowed to go out again this weekend. His dad would be working, so surely he wasn’t expected to sit at home alone?
Michael Butler opened the front door and carried his father’s small suitcase over the threshold. Vinny had given Nancy and the boys a lift down to Eastbourne with Jo and Molly earlier and Michael was glad. He felt his dad needed a bit of quiet father-and-son time, rather than the chaos that came with having three young boys running around the house.
‘Nice gaff, Michael. Beautiful leather suite. Is it new?’
Michael poured two large brandies. ‘Yeah. We had a beige one, but Adam drew all over it with a felt-tip pen, so we decided to get a black one instead.’
Watching his father sip his drink, Michael’s heart went out to him. He had really loved Dorothy and he looked a broken man. ‘You can stay here as long as you like, Dad. There’s two or three pubs in walking distance and I’ll give you some money so you can go for a pint whenever you want. Nancy and the boys will probably stay down at Kings for the rest of the school holidays, so when I’m at work you’ll have the house to yourself. A change is as good as a rest, they say.’
‘Thanks, Michael. Shame the boys aren’t here though. I think their constant chit-chat might have been the best medicine for me.’
‘Well, I did promise Nancy
that I’d try and have a week down at Kings with her and the boys myself. You can come too. It’s a wonderful holiday park and I’m sure you’d love it. You’ll probably bump into Mum and Auntie Viv though. Can you handle that?’
Albie winked. ‘I can handle anything as long as my favourite son and grandchildren are by my side. I’ve never been to a holiday park before. Is there lots to do there?’
When Michael explained how fabulous the clubhouse was and what famous acts appeared there, Albie’s eyes opened wide. ‘Vinny might be there an’ all though, Dad. I know you and him ain’t exactly the Waltons.’
‘I’m no fan of your brother, but I’ll be polite if I see him, Michael. Actually, he rung me to say he was sorry to hear about Dorothy.’
‘Did he? When?’
‘Last Monday, I think it was. He was on the phone for about ten minutes. He spoke about the club and other stuff too. I must admit, I was surprised to hear from him.’
Michael immediately smelt a rat. Not only had Vinny failed to mention he had spoken to their father, his brother had never met Dorothy and was the most unsympathetic bastard God had ever put breath in. ‘Did he mention me at all, Dad? I know he did, so don’t lie to me.’
Wishing he hadn’t opened his big mouth, Albie nodded sheepishly. ‘Vinny didn’t slag you off, boy. He’s just a bit worried about you, that’s all.’
‘Worried! What do you mean worried?’
‘He knows you’ve had problems with Nancy and he seemed a bit concerned your drinking and that was getting out of hand.’
Michael chuckled sarcastically. ‘I get it – “and that” says it all, Dad. He told you about the drugs, didn’t he?’
Feeling awkward, Albie stared at his hands. ‘Vinny wanted me to have a chat with you, make you see sense. Please don’t let on I’ve told you though. He wanted me to pretend I’d heard it through the grapevine. Promise me you won’t say anything, Michael. You know how handy your brother can be with his fists.’
Remembering the time his dad had been laid up in hospital with two broken legs and three broken ribs thanks to Vinny, Michael shook his head. ‘I would never dob you in the shit, but I am fucking livid! Vinny’s got some brass neck, ringing you to talk about me. He was bang on the gear himself before Molly was born, and he’s dealing in it now. I overheard a conversation between him and Ahmed not that long ago. They’re both at it.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me at all, boy. I wouldn’t put anything past your brother. But it’s not him I care about, it’s you. You’re a wonderful son and a fantastic father, so please don’t throw your life away. I know I can talk, seeing as I spent most of your childhood drunk, but I’ve never touched a drug in my life. Worried sick about you I am, boy, which is one of the reasons why I wanted to come and stay with you. I might be too old to put you over my knee, but I’m not too old to keep an eye on you. I’ve already buried one son and I’m damned if I’m gonna bury another.’
Seldom one to lose his temper, Michael smashed his fist against the wall. He might look like some pop star or pretty boy, but he was anything but. He was Michael fucking Butler and he was sick of being treated like some soft prick. How could Vinny betray him after everything he had done for him? Had Vinny forgotten who had helped him kill Trevor Thomas? Yet ever since Ahmed had been back on the scene, Vinny seemed to treat him with a lack of respect.
‘Sit down, son. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just worried because I love you, that’s all,’ Albie said. The look in Michael’s eyes reminded him of Vinny and he did not care for that one bit.
Michael knocked back his brandy, sat down and slammed the glass against the coffee table. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m not angry with you and I am glad you told me what Vinny said, because I swear to you, hand on heart, I will never touch a drug again. It’s him I’m pissed off with, that wonderful loyal brother of mine. He still thinks I’m some wet-behind-the-ears kid who lives in his shadow, but I’m not. Does he honestly look in the mirror and see Saint Fucking Vinny staring back? Because I don’t and neither do you. He’s a cunt and he ain’t mugging me off no more.’
Queenie Butler put the tray of drinks on the table and waved at her grandchildren. Kings had a marvellous children’s entertainer called Charlie Case, and he organized different games, activities and competitions on a daily basis. Of an evening, Charlie would act as bingo caller and compere in the clubhouse. ‘Poxy weather today for August, but it don’t matter to the little ’uns, does it?’
‘No. They’re having a whale of a time. Look at Adam dancing. He’s so cute,’ Nancy replied.
Joanna chuckled. ‘Molly’s wiggling her hips now as well, look.’
‘Aw, bless their little hearts,’ Queenie said, her face beaming with pride. She loved nothing more than when Jo and Nancy brought the kids down to Kings. It was just a shame Vinny and Michael didn’t accompany them more often to make her happiness complete.
‘Where’s Viv?’ Nancy asked.
‘Gone in them bleedin’ amusements again. Got the hots for that Mike, and she’s addicted to them two-and-ten-pence fall machines. She stands there watching until the kids run out of money, then she pushes the poor little sods out the way when the coins look ready to drop.’
When Joanna and Nancy both laughed, Queenie decided they looked relaxed enough to be able to answer a few questions. She’d had no joy when she had quizzed Vinny and Michael on the phone. Getting information out of those two was like trying to get blood out of a stone. ‘So lovely to see yous two looking happy and enjoying yourselves, ’cause I know things ain’t been great back at home. What’s going on, girls? You can trust me to keep me trap shut. I won’t tell the boys, I promise.’
Joanna glanced at Nancy. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Queenie. Do you, Nance?’
Queenie preferred a thief to a liar and there was no way she was being fobbed off that easily. ‘Look, you might as well tell me because I shall find out anyway. Gave birth to them men of yours, I did, and I know when something’s bleedin’ well wrong.’
‘Look, I’ll be honest, Queenie, Michael and I did go through a bit of a rough patch, but we’re back on track now,’ Nancy admitted.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear that. All marriages have their ups and downs. I should know, I married Albie,’ Queenie chuckled.
Joanna stood up. ‘Who wants another drink?’
‘Sit back down. We haven’t finished this conversation yet,’ Queenie ordered.
Joanna did as she was told and when Queenie started interrogating her, chose her words carefully. ‘Vinny and I have been going through a rough patch too. My dad’s up for parole and it has caused some friction.’
Having just taken a sip of her lager and lime, Queenie spat it back in the glass. Nine bastard years was all Johnny Preston had done in nick. Was that all her Roy’s life was worth?
Noticing that her mother-in-law’s complexion had turned a whiter shade of pale, Nancy asked Queenie if she was OK.
‘No. I’m having one of me funny turns. I’m going outside to get some fresh air.’
Vinny handed the money over to Richie and silently thanked whoever had invented Scotch for his hands not shaking.
Ahmed counted the kilo packages, weighed them, then tested one by piercing it with a penknife then tasting it. ‘This all looks in order. You want to check it, Vin?’
‘Nope. If you say it’s all right, it’s all right.’
Richie gave the money a swift count, then nodded. ‘OK, let’s part waves. Give us a bell if there’s any problems your end, and I’ll count this properly when I get home. I’ll bell you tomorrow if it’s not correct.’
When Ahmed shook Richie’s hand, Vinny did the same, then watched as Ahmed put the drugs inside the false bottom of the van. Richie had been insistent that the van driver wasn’t to know where his yard was, so Mohammed was sitting down the bottom of River Road in Ahmed’s car.
As soon as they’d swapped vehicles and hit the A13, Vinny felt a mixture of adrenalin and relief seep
through his body.
‘You OK?’ Ahmed asked, as he swerved into the slow lane to stick close to the van.
Vinny laughed. ‘Yeah, I’m more than OK. In fact, once we’ve conducted our business duties for the day, how do you fancy going out and getting bladdered?’
Ahmed did not particularly feel like a wild night out, but the more normal he kept it, the less suspicious his business partner would be when he got arrested. ‘Let’s go up the West End for a change. I know a great club that’s just opened.’
Vinny grinned. ‘Yeah, why not.’
Alison Bloggs opened the front door and treated Little Vinny to a toothless grin. ‘Come in, boy. What you got in your bag? I’ll swap you a joint for some booze, if you want?’
Little Vinny took a bottle of strong cider out of the carrier bag and handed it to his pal’s mum. His dad had obviously been in a good mood earlier. Not only had he granted him permission to go out, he had also given him forty quid wages. ‘Is Ben upstairs?’
‘No. He’s popped to the quacks to pick up my methadone prescription. I lost the last one, if you know what I mean?’ Alison chuckled.
Little Vinny knew exactly what she meant. Alison was on more prescription drugs than anybody he knew and she was forever swapping or flogging her medicine to acquire her next hit of heroin. Ben told him everything.
When Alison grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the lounge, Little Vinny screwed his nose up. Unlike his own home that smelled of fresh flowers and air fresheners, Alison’s stank of piss, sick and cannabis. She ponged as well. An unwashed, musty smell, like she hadn’t bathed in weeks.
‘Go upstairs and play, you little fuckers,’ Alison screamed at her brood.
Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Butler Collection Page 65
