Without even looking at or consulting Joanna, Vinny shook his head. ‘No. Let’s just get it over with.’
The boy stood in a phonebox, took the screwed-up poster out of his pocket, and checked nobody was watching him before dialling the number. He had learned while banged up that if you kept the phonecall short and sweet, the Old Bill wouldn’t be able to trace it.
‘I’m ringing about Molly Butler. I just want you to know she is still alive, but missing her parents.’
The officer was startled. He could tell the caller sounded young. ‘Look, please don’t hang up. It’s in your best interest to talk to me. Can you tell me where Molly is? If you do, I can assure you that you will not be in trouble. As long as Molly is returned safely, everything will be OK. Would you like to speak to a senior officer? If you hold on a minute, I can arrange that.’
‘No, but I’ll be in touch again soon,’ the boy said, before slamming the phone down. He then left the phonebox, grinning.
Back at Arbour Square police station, Vinny Butler could feel his temper rising. Not only was he having to fend off awkward questions about his own life and business dealings, but Joanna’s nosy fucking mother was sitting amongst the reporters, watching him squirm.
‘As I said at the beginning of this conference, Mr Butler and Miss Preston are to only be asked questions about the disappearance of their daughter. Anything else is irrelevant at this moment in time.’
Most of the hacks present had done their homework on Vinny Butler, none more so than the News of the World reporter. He had spent the previous day visiting pubs and other local amenities in Whitechapel in the hope of digging up some dirt. Most locals knew better than to discuss the Butler family and it seemed he’d wasted a day – until he had the good fortune to come across an elderly lady in the market. She’d given him a wonderful insight into the life of Vinny Butler and a brilliant interview to go in his newspaper on Sunday.
‘Next question,’ the DI said.
‘You mentioned that the door of Mr Butler’s club was found open after Molly’s disappearance. Is there any chance the club could have been broken into?’ asked a reporter from a local rag.
‘No, there was no sign of forced entry. We believe the door in question was accidentally left open as Mr Butler rushed into the club to attend to a flooded cellar,’ the DI replied.
‘I have a question for Miss Preston,’ said a female reporter. ‘Firstly, I would just like to say that as the mother of a young daughter myself, I truly sympathize with what you must be going through and I do hope Molly is found safe. My question is, had Molly ever run off in the past? Was she a child who liked to explore?’
‘No, never. Even in the supermarket, Molly would never leave my side. She’s a good girl, and so bright for her age,’ Joanna sobbed.
‘Who was looking after her at the time?’ somebody shouted out.
‘Do not mention my son,’ Vinny hissed in the DI’s ear. Little Vinny might be a pain in the neck, but he was still only fourteen and needed protecting from vultures like the press.
‘You can be assured that Molly was being properly supervised on the day in question. As I said earlier, Mr Butler was unaware that the door of the club had been left open,’ the DI replied.
At that point, it was all Joanna could do to stop herself blurting out that her beautiful daughter had most certainly not been properly supervised, that she had in fact been left in the care of her partner’s rebellious teenage son, but she knew voicing her opinion would only sour things between herself and Vinny even more. The father of her child had made no attempt to speak to her today, let alone comfort her, but even though Joanna despised him at the moment, she could feel the pain he was going through. Only those who had experienced the horror themselves could hope to understand how it felt to be the parent of a missing child.
The News of the World reporter put his hand up. ‘I’ve got a question for Mr Butler. Vinny, in light of all the speculation that you are a leading figure in the underworld, do you not think there is a good chance that Molly has been abducted as some kind of retribution—’
‘How dare you! How fucking dare you, you unfeeling four-eyed cunt,’ Vinny shrieked, as he leapt out of his chair and launched himself at the journalist.
Aware of all the flashbulbs going off and the three policemen wrestling Vinny to the floor in an attempt to stop him from beating up the journalist, an over-emotional Joanna ran from the room.
Having made a pact not to talk about or speculate on Molly’s whereabouts any more until they had watched the TV appeal, Queenie and Vivian were currently sipping their third glass of sherry and listening to their second Mrs Mills album. ‘Always reminds me of when that bastard Hitler was bombing us, this song does, Queen. Do you remember us singing it when we were holed up in Bethnal Green tube station?’
‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’ was one of her and Vivian’s all time favourite songs, and Queenie had to smile. If she had a pound for every time Viv had asked her the same question after a few sherrys, she would be rich. ‘The good old days those were, Viv. The camaraderie was special. Not like that these days. Gone to fucking pot, this country has. They’ve let too many foreigners in, that’s what I reckon. I mean every time one of our old neighbours croaks it now, the house is given to Indians. Got nothing against ’em, they seem to work hard, but they’re not exactly mixers, are they? Can’t see them singing “Knees up Mother Brown” with us at the next Jubilee, can you?’
Vivian was about to get on her soapbox about Enoch Powell’s ‘Rivers of blood’ speech when the doorbell stopped her in her tracks. ‘You stay there. I’ll get it.’
The last thing Queenie needed right now was the company of Brenda in one of her tantrums, but that’s exactly what she got. ‘You OK, love? I meant to pop round earlier. Have you heard about poor Molly?’
‘Yes, via the Old Bill knocking on my door asking for Scotty’s surname and address. How come nobody had the decency to inform me, eh? Do I mean nothing to this family? And why has Scotty been brought into this investigation, eh? Fuck me, does he look like a murderer or nonce? I really hoped that once Scott had calmed down, me and him might have a chance of getting back together, but there’s no hope of that now, is there?’
Unable to stop herself, Queenie leapt up and smacked her inebriated, hyperventilating daughter’s face. ‘How dare you storm in here with not a word of compassion or worry about Molly? You are the most selfish person that I know, which is probably why you were last on my list to tell what had happened. Now, get out of my house and do not come back until you have thought about that poor little ha’porth. You disgust me sometimes, Bren, and I’m embarrassed to call you my daughter.’
‘And you disgust me too, Mum. It was you who brought me up to be as hard as nails. Terrible mother you’ve been, if you want to know the truth. Vinny’s evil, Roy’s dead, Michael was a druggie and I have mental health and alcohol problems.’
‘Get out! Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that,’ Vivian yelled, grabbing her niece by the elbow.
‘It’s all true. All she was ever interested in was her beloved boys. Michael’s right, you know. My dad is a good man, with a good heart. No wonder he fucking drank and slept around. Any man would have done the same, if they had the misfortune of marrying you.’
Queenie went to clump Brenda again, but somehow stopped herself. ‘Viv, she’s pissed. Get her out of here before I kill her stone dead.’
Unaware that he had not half an hour ago been the topic of conversation, Albie walked towards his old abode feeling terribly nervous and with a suitcase in his hand.
Michael had rung him the previous evening to inform him of the disappearance of his granddaughter, and unable to think about anything else, Albie had caught a train from Ipswich to London. His first stop had been Barking, but there was nobody at Michael’s house, so he had then jumped back on the District Line to Whitechapel, only to get to the club and find it locked up, with a sign on the door saying CLOSED UNTIL FU
RTHER NOTICE.
Spotting a poster on a nearby fence, Albie stopped and stared sadly at the photo of Molly. He had hardly known the child, but having seen her sing on the stage at Kings in the talent competition, he was proud to call himself her grandfather. She was a little sweetheart, and sod all like Vinny, thankfully.
‘Hello, Albie.’
‘Hello, Stan. I take it you’ve heard the awful news?’
’Yes. It’s terrible. We’ve all been out looking for Molly, but the police told us to leave it to them now. I think everywhere local has been searched. They did say that if they get any new leads in other areas and need our help, they’ll let us know. There was a good crowd of us out with our torches last night, Alb. Stick together through thick and thin round ’ere, don’t we?’
Albie held out his right hand. ‘Thanks, Stan, that means a lot.’
‘Do you fancy a pint in the Blind Beggar, Albie? Drinks are on me, pal.’
Albie shook his head. He could not face being interrogated about his granddaughter in any local pub, and he knew Whitechapel had a rumour mill of its own. ‘No thanks, Stan. But very kind of you to offer. I just need to spend time with the family right now.’
When Big Stan walked back indoors, Albie took a sip of brandy from his hip flask for Dutch courage before he knocked on Queenie’s door. He could hear music coming from inside the house, so knew somebody was at home.
When Vivian answered the door, Albie’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Viv, but Michael rang me last night and I couldn’t not be here. There’s nobody in at Michael’s and the club is shut. I just want to be here for Molly’s sake. Regardless of the way I feel about Vinny, that adorable little girl is still my granddaughter.’
Seeing the tears well up in Albie’s eyes, Vivian softened towards him for the first time in years. His place at the top of the list of people she despised had gone to Vinny – and, after today’s performance, bloody Brenda. ‘Come in, Albie. Queenie’s in the sitting room. Put your case over there by the stairs for now. What do you want to drink? Beer or a brandy?’
To say Albie was stunned by Vivian’s welcome was an understatement. For a moment he could only stand gawping at her. When he finally spoke, Albie could hear the tremor in his voice: ‘Erm, if you don’t mind, I’ll have a brandy, please, Viv.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Vinny stopped in his tracks as he was being led back into the room for the news appeal. He felt emotionally drained and could not stop thinking of the story that the Kelly brothers had told him earlier about Scouse Ray. They had advised him not to appear on TV, and there was no way Vinny wanted to put Molly even more at risk, or be gloated at himself by the shitcunt who had taken his daughter.
DI Smithers was certainly no admirer of Vinny Butler, but the pain the man was going through was clear to see. ‘Vinny, I’ve cleared out most of the media. The only people left in that room now are involved in the TV appeal. You need to do this, and your daughter needs you to do it too.’
Vinny looked around and came face to face with Joanna and her stony-faced mother. ‘Look, I’m not Mr Popular. Let those two do the appeal. It will have far more impact.’
‘Are you OK, Vinny?’ Joanna asked, aware of the anguish on her partner’s face.
Unable to control his emotions any longer, Vinny crouched down and put his head in his hands. ‘No, I ain’t, Jo. I can’t stand not knowing where Molly is. It’s killing me, slowly but surely. I can’t do the appeal, I want you and your mum to do it instead. More people will come forward if yous two do it.’
Deborah snarled as her daughter bent to comfort the man that she and Johnny despised so much. It should be Vinny comforting Jo, if he was any kind of a man, not the other way round. She tugged at her daughter’s arm to lead her away. ‘Come on, Jo. I’ll do the appeal with you.’
Bemused by Vinny’s decision, DI Smithers shrugged. ‘Let’s get a move on then. The TV crew are waiting for us.’
Mary picked the boys up from school and as a treat took them to the Wimpy bar. She had decided to tell them the news about Molly over a burger, chips and a milkshake.
Adam was the last to finish his meal and the minute he had done so, Mary broke the bad news as softly as she could. ‘You know you are staying with me and your granddad at the moment, and I told you that was because your mum was busy? Well, there’s something else I need to tell you. The reason your mum is busy is because she’s looking after Auntie Jo.’
‘Is Auntie Jo not well, Nan?’ Lee asked. Even though Mary and Donald were not his real grandparents, he always referred to them as if they were now. He didn’t call Nancy ‘Mum’ though, because he still remembered his real mum.
‘Auntie Jo is very upset at the moment, and the reason for that is … your cousin Molly has got lost.’
‘Did she get lost in Sainsbury’s like I did that time, Nan?’ Adam asked innocently.
‘No, love. Molly is very lost at the moment.’
‘So who will find her?’ Lee asked.
‘Well, the police are all searching for her and tonight Auntie Joanna will be on the news asking for people to help look for Molly,’ Mary replied. She never mentioned Vinny in front of the boys, not unless they did.
‘Do you think Molly is playing hide and seek?’ asked Adam, with a quizzical expression on his face.
Daniel gave his five-year-old brother a tap on the head. ‘’Course she ain’t, you div. How long has Molly been missing for, Nan?’
Mary was rather thrown by her grandson’s behaviour towards his younger brother and his blunt question. Both she and Donald had noticed a change in Daniel of late. Nothing major, just the odd swear word and the fact he seemed to be growing up a little too fast for their liking. ‘Molly’s been missing since yesterday afternoon. Now apologize to your brother for hitting him, Daniel. That’s naughty.’
‘No.’
Mary was not used to being defied. ‘You will apologize, because if you do not, I will give you a clump around the head too.’
‘Go on then. I don’t care. Won’t hurt me. I’m a man, just like my dad is.’
Mary looked in horror at her usually polite grandson. From his eyes to his hair to his skin, he had all the features of his father’s family. In fact, the way he had just spoken to her and was now glaring at her defiantly, she could see nothing of Nancy in the child whatsoever. And the most worrying thing of all? Daniel was only bloody seven.
Ahmed Zane met Carl Thompson at the yard they had hired for the set-up in River Road. He had taken Burak’s words of warning on board and had decided to pay Carl another couple of grand to keep him sweet.
‘What’s that?’ Carl asked, when Ahmed handed him a rather slim envelope.
‘Two thousand pounds. I thought it would help tide you over until we have arranged another date.’
With a sneer on his face, Carl slung the envelope back at Ahmed. ‘Two thousand! What do you take me for? We had a deal, Ahmed. You knew I was planning to move to Spain and you promised that I would be paid in full this weekend. Only last week I told you I’d put down a deposit on the bar, and the balance is due in the first week of October.’
‘Yes, but you know the score, Carl. I made it clear to you at the very beginning that you would not be paid in full until the job was finished. It isn’t my fault that Vinny’s daughter has gone missing, is it?’
Carl chuckled. ‘Isn’t it? The way you hate that geezer’s guts, it wouldn’t surprise me. You can’t kid a kidder, Ahmed, so don’t ever try to pull the wool over my eyes. What happened? Did you and that cousin of yours suddenly have a change of heart? Did you decide to forget about putting Vinny behind bars and bump off the kid instead, saving yourself the thirty-five grand you owe me in the process?’
Ahmed grabbed Carl by the throat and slammed him against the wall. ‘I wouldn’t go spouting off accusations like that, if I were you. I am no child snatcher, you hear me?’
‘OK, I just thought it was a bit of a coincidence, that was all. Can you let go o
f my neck now, please?’ Carl croaked.
Ahmed released his grip, then pointed a finger of warning in Carl’s face. ‘I call the shots. You will get the rest of your money when this job is over. Now, do you fucking understand me?’
Carl nodded, waited until Ahmed had left the yard, then smirked. He would give the cocky Turkish bastard one week to come up with the rest of his dosh and if he didn’t, Carl would let Vinny Butler know what his faithful mucker was really up to. Carl was always loyal to one thing – the highest bidder.
Back in Whitechapel, Queenie, Vivian and Albie were all glued to the local news. ‘This is it,’ Queenie said, turning the volume up.
‘Joanna and Deborah Preston the mother and grandmother of Molly Butler, broke down today during their public appeal for information about the missing three-year-old. Speaking at a news conference in London, alongside DI Smithers, who is leading the case, Joanna Preston pleaded for information and the safe return of her beloved daughter.’
‘Where the bleedin’ hell is Vinny?’ Queenie muttered.
‘Shush,’ Vivian urged her sister.
‘My Molly is the sweetest, most loving, beautiful daughter that a mum could ever wish for, and I just want her back home with me where she belongs. If somebody has her or knows where she is, please ring the police,’ Joanna sobbed.
At that point, Albie started to weep too.
‘Be quiet. I’m trying to listen,’ Queenie hissed.
With Joanna clearly unable to continue, Deborah squeezed her daughter’s hand and looked into the camera, fighting back the tears as she asked anyone who had information to come forward. ‘What the family is going through is worse than torture and we just need to know where Molly is,’ she added.
The appeal was then switched back to the news presenter. ‘Molly was last seen at her father’s nightclub in Whitechapel at around one thirty yesterday afternoon, but there have been no sightings of her since. Molly was wearing a pink tracksuit and white trainers very similar to the outfit you can now see on your TV screens, and she was carrying a doll identical to this one,’ the reporter explained, pausing to allow viewers time to study both images.
Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Butler Collection Page 81
