Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Butler Collection

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘We will all identify the body together,’ Deborah told Townsend. It was obvious that Joanna was never going to believe the worst until she saw it with her own eyes.

  Townsend nodded. He knew exactly what Joanna’s reaction was going to be once she saw the state of her daughter’s once perfect face, and even though he had been in the force for many years, it was never easy to witness.

  Johnny Preston took a deep breath as he followed Townsend into the room. He had thought about his granddaughter so often while he was in prison and was distraught that, having longed all this time to see her in the flesh, he was about to be confronted with her dead body.

  The room was very small, the smell even more awful than the one outside. When Deborah Preston laid eyes on Molly, she started to gag. ‘Oh my God! Johnny, let’s go. Please, let’s go now,’ she wept.

  Joanna was momentarily stunned into silence. She then let out the most blood-curdling scream that Townsend had ever heard.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart. You’re going to come and stay in Tiptree with me and your mum,’ Johnny said. Even though he was heartbroken over the death of his grandchild, the one good thing to come out of this was that Joanna no longer had any ties with Vinny Butler.

  ‘Molly, wake up. Mummy’s here now. Please wake up,’ Joanna sobbed. Seconds later, she lunged towards her dead child.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The following morning, Christopher Walker had a bad feeling as he drove towards Hainault. When he had last seen Ahmed, the Turk had ordered him to discover the whereabouts of Carl Thompson and leave a message with Burak at the restaurant. His efforts to locate Thompson had been half-hearted at best and there was no progress to report. So he’d been filled with apprehension when Ahmed contacted him earlier that morning and said he needed to see him urgently.

  Christopher got out of his car and with a heavy heart climbed into the passenger seat of Ahmed’s. ‘What’s so urgent?’ he asked bluntly.

  ‘How would you like to lock Vinny Butler up for murder?’

  Christopher sighed. ‘Ahmed, I’ve already told you how difficult it will be to arrest Vinny without involving my bosses. The guy’s far too dangerous for me to tackle him alone, especially now his kid’s dead and he’s got nothing to lose.’

  Ahmed smiled. He could smell the fear coming off Christopher and it made him feel powerful. There was no doubt who was in control here. ‘You can involve whoever you want in this arrest. All you have to do is pretend you received an anonymous phonecall about a van with a dead body in the back. Vinny will not be at the scene of the crime, but I can guarantee you he will be responsible for the murder and his prints will be all over the body and the murder weapon.’

  ‘And where will Vinny be when I find this body?’

  ‘Back at the club with me, getting pissed. I have barely left his side since Carl Thompson disappeared – I daren’t, obviously. Have you any news of Carl’s whereabouts for me?’

  ‘No. I checked him out, but I can’t find a police record that matches the guy you’re searching for. I came up with half a dozen Carl Thompsons, but two are sex offenders, and the others live up north. I will keep my eyes and ears open, but for obvious reasons I can’t bombard my colleagues with questions.’

  ‘Well, getting Vinny put behind bars seems to be our only option then, Christopher. Once he is banged up, we can both relax and get on with our lives, can’t we?’

  Knowing the threat that lurked behind Ahmed’s words, Christopher nodded. This was a much better proposition than trying to arrest Vinny alone with a boot full of drugs, and getting a notorious villain put away for murder wouldn’t do his career prospects any harm. Quite the opposite. It would probably make him a legend overnight.

  ‘Obviously, we’ll need to meet again to discuss the plan in finer detail, but I’m willing to go ahead with it on one condition …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you never come back to me and ask for any more favours. This has to be the end of our association, and we take this conversation and any others we’ve had to our graves with us without telling another living soul.’

  Ahmed held out his right hand. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’

  Feeling like death warmed up, Vinny Butler unbolted the front door to find DS Townsend on the doorstep.

  ‘I have some news for you, Vinny. May I come in? I tried to get hold of you yesterday evening, but there was nobody here.’

  ‘I popped out for a few hours last night. Needed a change of scenery,’ Vinny said, as he flipped dejectedly onto one of his leather sofas. He could hardly tell Townsend that he had got so out of his nut, he’d ended up in a whorehouse in Leyton and got himself and Ahmed slung out for behaving too brutally towards one of the girls. ‘So, what news you got for me? Finally charged some scumbag with the murder of my daughter, have you?’

  ‘Not yet. But we’re hoping to have some news on that front very soon. The reason I’m here, and I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news once again, is that the body we found has now formally been identified as Molly. The post-mortem was completed yesterday, and the cause of death was strangulation. Apart from bruising to the neck and wrists, there was no sign of any other injuries of a physical or sexual nature. I am truly sorry for your loss, but I can assure you we are doing everything in our power to catch the bastard responsible.’

  Aware that he was trembling, Vinny walked up to the bar. ‘I need a drink. Do you want one?’

  ‘No, thank you. I need to get back to the station. If you would like to say your goodbyes to Molly, just call me and I’ll arrange it.’

  When Townsend had gone, Vinny sat in a trance, drowning his sorrows. A small part of him did feel relief that Molly had not been interfered with sexually. He would never have coped with that. What father could? But it still didn’t alter the fact that some evil cuntbag had put their hands around his daughter’s throat and throttled the living daylights out of her, and for that they would pay dearly.

  Imagining how scared Molly must have been, Vinny put his head in his hands and sobbed his heart out. Though he carried on breathing, it felt as if a part of him had died with her.

  Smithers couldn’t help feeling deflated. He had been certain the SOCOs would have found something to link Jamie to the crime scene, or that his fingerprints would be found on Molly’s body, but they’d drawn a blank.

  ‘You OK, boss? I finally caught up with Vinny and delivered the news.’

  Smithers brought Townsend up to date on the latest development. ‘Jamie must have worn gloves throughout. He probably burned them with the clothes he was wearing and the pushchair. No gloves were found in his bedroom. We had a phonecall this morning about the pushchair. A woman says her son’s was stolen not five minutes’ walk from Vinny’s club on the day that Molly went missing. Said it was taken from her front garden. We also had another call not ten minutes ago. A bloke insists that he saw a lad matching our photofit of Jamie ripping down the posters we put up in our search for Molly.’

  ‘I take it Preston is still denying everything?’

  ‘Yep. Oh well, let’s see how he gets on denying it to a jury, the lying little shit. We have a motive for the murder, the newspaper cuttings we found in his bedroom, witnesses who are willing to stand up in court and say they saw him opposite the club at the time of Molly’s disappearance. And most importantly, we have his phonecall on tape.’

  ‘I take it you haven’t charged him yet?’ Townsend asked.

  ‘No. I’m going to do that very shortly. If you want, you can sit in with me and watch him fly into another frenzy while protesting his innocence. Good little actor the kid is, I’ll give him that much. Wonder if he’ll be able to convince his fellow inmates in Feltham that he isn’t a child killer? He’ll get what’s coming to him in there, that’s for sure.’

  Nancy Butler and Deborah Preston were both in tears as they put all Molly’s belongings into black dustbin sacks. They had packed Joanna’s things earlier and loaded them into Deborah�
��s car. ‘I am so going to miss seeing Jo all the time, Deborah – and Molly, of course. My life is going to feel so empty now, I know it is.’

  Deborah gave Nancy a hug. Joanna had been in such a state after viewing Molly’s body, she and Johnny had literally had to drag her kicking and screaming from the mortuary. It had been a horrid experience for all the family, and Deborah would never forget that stench of death as long as she lived.

  Johnny had been the one who suggested that they drive Joanna straight back to Tiptree. The realization that Molly really was dead had knocked her for six, and she was in no fit state to return to the house in Whitechapel and see all her daughter’s toys, clothes and other belongings.

  ‘You’re welcome to come and stay with us whenever you like, Nancy, you know that. Joanna is going to need you more than ever now.’

  ‘I know, and when I visit I won’t bring the boys with me. It will be too raw for Jo if I do. Too much of a reminder of what she’s lost herself, bless her.’

  ‘You’re such a kind and thoughtful girl, Nancy. I’m glad you’re going to stay with your parents for a while. You need looking after, and I’m sure your lovely mum will take good care of you. As Johnny said to me last night, sad as this terrible situation has been for all of us, the one good thing to come out of it is that Joanna will no longer be in Vinny’s clutches. Poor Molly was the only thing holding that relationship together. Vinny has made it perfectly clear that he wants no more to do with Jo, and there is no way she would ever get back together with him. I only hope that she can get through this, meet a nice lad and have more children. They will never replace Molly, I know that, but I just pray that at some point she will be strong enough to move on with her life.’

  Feeling a bit teary, Nancy nodded. ‘I’m sure she will in time. Jo is made of strong stuff. Let’s pack the rest of this stuff up and get out of here, Deborah. This house gives me the bloody creeps.’

  Jamie Preston sat opposite DI Smithers with his mouth wide open. He had just been charged with Molly’s murder and was absolutely furious. Apart from the obvious, the Old Bill had nothing on him and he knew it. ‘I didn’t fucking do it! I never even knew Molly,’ he screamed, trying to lunge at Smithers.

  Jamie’s social worker and solicitor stayed frozen in their seats as Townsend leapt up and restrained their awkward client.

  Smithers smirked at the furious child as he continued: ‘You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence.’

  ‘I’m innocent! It wasn’t me! Tell them, Nan, tell them,’ Jamie cried.

  Shirley Preston was dumbstruck. She had been ringing the police countless times a day since Jamie had told her he didn’t want her in the interview room, and the longer the police had held her grandson without charging him, the more confident she had become that he was innocent.

  ‘I need you to sign the charge sheet, Jamie,’ Smithers said.

  ‘I ain’t signing nothing. I’m telling the fucking truth,’ Jamie spat.

  ‘Just do as the policeman has asked you to, Jamie. You’re in enough bloody trouble as it is,’ Shirley ordered her grandson. How was she meant to break this news to Judy and Johnny? It was going to cause ructions.

  Jamie wept when he signed his name. ‘Nan, you must believe me. Ring Uncle Johnny, he will know what to do. I never touched Molly, I swear on your life I didn’t.’

  ‘Don’t be swearing on my life, boy. I’ve had bad enough chest pains these past few days as it is.’

  Vinny cursed and thumped the cigarette machine. He, Ahmed and Michael had been chain-smoking this past week, and he must have taken the last packet out of the vending machine in the early hours of this morning when he returned from his disastrous trip to Leyton. The last thing he wanted to do was go to the shop and have to face people, but he desperately needed some fags. He had no idea what time Ahmed would be back as he couldn’t even remember him leaving. As for Michael, he’d gone all saintly on him again last night and stormed out in a huff. He couldn’t recall his brother’s exact words, but he knew Michael had given him a right earful of abuse.

  Vinny opened the bag of cocaine that Ahmed had given him, racked up a huge line and immediately felt slightly less pissed as it hit the back of his throat. He had already done over half a bottle of Scotch since Townsend had left.

  Praying that he wouldn’t bump into anybody he knew during the short walk to the newsagent’s, Vinny picked up his keys. He then remembered he had heard no more from Geary, so decided to call him first. Finding out who was responsible for murdering his beautiful child was a billion times more important than his craving for nicotine.

  Eight miles away in Barking, Albie and Michael were having a heart to heart. ‘Honestly, Dad, if I hadn’t left the club when I did, I’m sure I would have been tempted myself. I don’t even think of the shit any more, provided it’s not laid out on a table in front of me. But I could smell it and I really wanted some. Makes me feel so fucking weak, admitting that.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up, Michael. I’m really proud of you for walking away. We all have our demons in life – look at me with the booze. Whenever you feel tempted again, just think of your lovely Nancy and those wonderful boys of yours. What happened to Molly is incredibly sad, but now she has been found you should really concentrate on your own family. Your brother will only drag you down otherwise.’

  Michael sighed. ‘I know you ain’t no fan of Vinny’s, and neither am I at times, believe me. But he is still my brother and I can’t just leave him in the lurch. What about the club, eh? Our takings were going downhill before all this happened, and there’s no way we can open up again until after Molly’s funeral. That would be far too disrespectful. As for my wonderful wife, she isn’t as fucking wonderful as you think, Dad. Every time the chips are down, she pisses off back to her parents and takes my sons with her. I stood by her when she went into nut-nut mode, but she never bastard-well sticks by me in a crisis. Selfish cow, she is at times.’

  Albie was about to try to make his son see sense when Little Vinny wandered into the lounge in nothing but a pair of grey Nike tracksuit bottoms. He had been studying himself in the mirror upstairs. His hair had now grown from a skinhead into more of a crop, and after everything that had happened, being a skinhead would forever remind him of his disastrous relationship with Shazza and Molly’s death. So he had decided to become a Casual now instead. He and Ben had seen a few Casuals when they were riding up and down on the District Line last night, and they seemed to have far more success with birds than skinheads did.

  ‘My turn to make breakfast today, Granddad. What do you and Uncle Michael want to eat?’

  ‘I’ll have a bacon sandwich, boy,’ Albie said.

  ‘And I’ll have the same. You sure you can cook, Vin?’ Michael added.

  ‘Yeah. Nan taught me when I lived with her. I won’t poison yous, I promise.’

  When his grandson wandered off to the kitchen, Albie turned to Michael. ‘Pleasantly surprised me, that boy has. I thought I was gonna have murders with him, but he’s been as good as gold.’

  ‘Unfortunately, Little Vinny is a replica of his father. When he’s good he’s very good – but when he’s bad, he’s pure evil.’

  Vinny Butler marched towards the newsagent with a face like thunder. Geary’s main source of information at Arbour Square was apparently on holiday and wasn’t due back until next week. The only thing Geary had been able to confirm was the police had somebody in custody, but for the first time ever the useless old bastard could not find out who.

  ‘Hello, Vinny. I am so sorry to hear of your loss. Me and the missus have shed a fair few tears, let me tell you. Such a lovely kid, Molly was.’

  ‘Not now. I’m not in the mood,’ Vinny said, glaring at Big Stan before barging past him.

  ‘I want two hundred Marlboro. My vending machine has run out of fags,’ Vinny announced, as he entered the shop.

  Derek put the
cigarettes into a bag and handed them to Vinny. ‘No need to pay me, just replace them when you can. So sorry to hear about your Molly. Such a lovely kid and I will miss seeing her little face in here.’

  Vinny snatched the bag and stomped out of the shop without replying. He knew people were only trying to be kind, but he did not want their fucking sympathy. Nothing was going to bring his daughter back, was it?

  ‘Hello, love. So sorry to hear the bad news. I saw your mum and aunt earlier and passed on my condolences. Do the police know how Molly died yet?’ Nosy Hilda asked.

  Vinny felt his hackles rise. Less than fifty yards away Bobby Jackson was strolling along without a care in the world. ‘Hold that,’ Vinny ordered, shoving the bag into Hilda’s hands. He then darted behind the market stalls so Jackson wouldn’t spot him.

  Peeping around the side of a fruit-and-veg stall, Vinny’s face reddened with fury. Bobby was standing outside the bookies, laughing and joking with One-Eyed Harry.

  Unable to stop himself, Vinny ran at Bobby like a raging bull. ‘Thought my daughter going missing was funny, did you? Not laughing now, are you, cunt!’ Vinny yelled, as he repeatedly smashed Jackson’s head against the bookies’ window.

  The sound of shattering glass had women and children screaming as they fled the violent scene in terror.

  ‘Stop it, Vinny. You’re gonna kill him, and they’ll put you in prison,’ Nosy Hilda shouted. She could barely wait to go to bingo tonight to tell her friends what had happened. For once she wouldn’t need to exaggerate the drama.

  ‘You’re a sicko, you scum of the earth. You joked in the pub that you’d throttled my daughter and that’s how she died. It was you who killed her, wasn’t it? Well, now it is your turn to die,’ Vinny screamed, as he repeatedly kicked Bobby in the head and face.

  The petrified young woman who had only been working at the bookies for six weeks ended her call to the police and ran from the shop in tears. Bobby was a regular, one of her favourite punters, and she could not stand by and just watch him die. ‘Do something! Bobby’s dying, I know he is,’ she shouted at the gawpers.