by Paul Kirby
Gerry carried on his dirty work without a care in the world and as his business grew, so did the size of the drug delivery he would pick up at any one time. He was now buying two kilograms of the finest cocaine—top grade—almost one hundred percent pure from a supplier with a very good reputation. It came through the Flowery firm but was purchased from an outlet that kept the firm very much out of the picture. With Gerry under observation, it was only a matter of time before the Drug Squad pounced on him, and that would be when he was carrying enough of the drug to earn himself at least ten years in prison.
* * *
The Durleys’ problems were also just beginning. Several women had come forward with reports of a sexual nature and with Rita growing ever fonder of Shifty Ifty their little world was about to fall apart. If Big Burt thought there had been too much activity before, he hadn’t seen anything yet. But one thing was certain: that gut feeling he had was correct and half of the punters in the pub were about to fall victim to that feeling. He must have a sixth sense.
Bart was the first of the Durleys to get his collar felt by the local constabulary and when he was asked to accompany them to the local nick, the only thing he could think of was the Range Rover he had stolen while at a George Michael concert a few years earlier so he could pull an insurance scam. But that would be very hard to prove. He left his house with two officers and wasn’t too worried. The Bill Winters investigation had been dropped, so what was there to worry about, anyway? At the station while the desk sergeant was checking him in, he was very calm until a loud commotion startled him. In walked his old man kicking up a right stink, hands cuffed behind his back, squeaking away like a piglet. What’s the old man done now? thought Bart to himself. This must be why I’m here.
Bart racked his brains for all he was worth, trying to work out exactly what it was all about as the Old Bill wouldn’t tell him. Then he thought about all the other insurance frauds he’d pulled off on other motors in the past, but that was nothing to do with his dad. The old man didn’t even know about them. But his father had a rough idea why he was there. The police had said to him this business was of a sexual nature, hence all the shrieking and girly high-pitched shouting. Before the pair could speak to one another, Bart was carried off to the cells and locked up until his interview. He told himself again he didn’t have anything to worry about. It would all be sorted quickly and he would soon be on his way.
Bart sat in his lonely cell and began to let his mind wander. As he did so the old recurring panic attacks started up again. It’s funny how your conscience comes back to haunt you, but at this particular time, Bart didn’t realise why. It wouldn’t be long before he found out what his old man had already concluded.
Chapter 18
Dick got put in a separate cell well away from Bart’s. In fact, he was in the women’s cells and he knew only too well he was in mire up to his neck. It didn’t matter how many Hail Marys he said or how many times he crossed himself—not even the big fella could save him now. He may as well have prayed to Allah for all the good it was going to do him. He sat with his head in his hands as the cell door slammed shut, leaving him alone with his thoughts. What would Rita say?
He thought back to those days when he had cleaned the windows of that convent with Bart, who was in his early teens at the time. Dick had genuinely thought those girls fancied him and he’d not actually done anything wrong. Those young innocents had flirted, encouraged, and egged him on. He had simply obliged. But like his son he’d been abused as a choirboy. Had he encouraged that? He didn’t think he had and he felt it was alright to take advantage of school kids since it had happened to him.
Had Bart been through the same experience? Maybe he had. Bart had indulged in those perverted acts the same as Dick had. The more Dick thought about it, the more he began to shake, sweat, and panic until he came up with a very simple answer to the problem: blame Bart. It was his son, not him, who had sexually abused those girls. Yeah, that’s it, blame Bart. Dick actually managed to convince himself it was his son who did the dirty deeds and as loyalty was not something the Durley family practiced, it wouldn’t matter if Bart took the blame so Dick would not have to spend the autumn years of his life in jail. So that was what Dick decided he would do when the police questioned him. He’d blame his son.
As Bart’s panic attack eased, the police cautioned him and then told him the reason for his being there. They started questioning him. They didn’t get very far because as the accusations sank in and the questions started coming, true to form, Bart had another panic attack and this time a doctor had to be called. His dad meanwhile was left rotting in his cell until he too came down with a “Durley attack.” It must be a hereditary problem and it didn’t seem to be the only thing passed down through the Durley genes. The panic attack saga dragged on, but that only delayed the inevitable and kept the pair at the police station for much longer than was necessary at this stage of the investigation.
Rita was obviously aware of her husband’s arrest and after having spoken to her daughter-in-law, she was also aware of her son’s. Although at this point neither of them knew why their men had been arrested, they both knew it had nothing to do with the boating accident. Dick wouldn’t have been taken in for that as he wasn’t there. But Rita did learn, after phoning the local nick, that neither of the men would be released any time soon due to unforeseen circumstances. They would probably be kept overnight. Although a little bit concerned, the coldhearted Rita decided to seek a little comfort from Shifty Ifty.
She reached for the phone and dialled Ifty’s office. Much to her joy, the man himself answered. Rita looked up and mouthed the words “Thank you, God” and explained Dick’s situation and how lonely and frightened she’d become. Could they possibly meet up for a drink? Ifty said he would send a cab and to meet in the Country at seven o’clock but to make it look like a chance meeting. Rita agreed readily. With Dick incarcerated for the night and no Bart to poke his nose in, she was free to have the night with the man she had developed a need for. Dressed up to the nines in saucy stockings and suspenders, Rita was going out to enjoy herself. Sod the old man, she thought. With Dick and Bart’s continuing issues with panic attacks and the unfortunately unobtainable solicitor they’d been recently bragging about, it looked like they would be spending a bit longer at the local nick than they first thought.
Rita got to the pub early, looking very much a woman ready for action. Her extremely tarty appearance didn’t go unnoticed. She was in her mid-sixties with dyed auburn hair covering her natural greying ginger. Five foot six, with a pallid complexion, she had never been a great looker at any stage of her life, but she was noticed by many as while not overweight, she did carry a substantial backside.
One or two eyebrows were raised when Rita strolled into the Country and leaned against the bar, looking around as if to say, “I’m here boys, what d’ya think?”
“Bloody ‘ell, look at Durley’s old woman. She looks like an old brass,” commented Burt.
“Cor, you’re not wrong, Burt. That’ll do you, mate,” laughed Dell.
Big Burt gave his mate Dell a funny look and said gruffly, “You can fuck off. Anyway, I fancy a drink tonight. I’ve got the taste for it and when that happens—you know the old saying?”
“Yeah, I know it alright. One pint’s too many, a hundred’s not enough,” Dell laughed. “Yeah, actually, I fancy a few myself too. Cam on let’s have another.”
As Dell got up, he saw Gerry sitting at the other end of the bar near the spruced-up Rita. As their eyes met, Dell said “alright” to Gerry and nodded toward Rita. The pair smirked as Gerry pulled a face that said, “Jesus Christ, I know what you mean.”
As Dell ordered the drinks, Gerry got up and started to talk with Rita. “Where are the boys tonight then, Rita?”
“An’ don’t talk to me about them,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Why? What have they been up to then?
” Gerry asked.
“I don’t know, but they’ve both been nicked and they won’t be home tonight,” she said in a tone of voice that said it all.
“Sorry to hear that, Rita,” said Gerry.
“Well, don’t be, my love. I’m gonna have a few tonight and forget all about it.”
“What have they been nicked for?”
“I don’t know and I don’t really care,” came her sharp reply.
Dell overheard the conversation and hurried back to the table where he and Burt were sitting. Handing Burt his pint, he was laughing as he said to Burt, “I just heard Durley’s old woman telling Gerry the pair of them have been nicked.”
“What, Dick and his soppy son?”
“Yeah, and she reckons they ain’t getting out tonight either.”
“Oh yeah? What they been nicked for then?”
“She don’t know, but I bet that’s why she’s all tarted up, Burt. Go on, my son, get in there.”
Burt pulled a face and shook his head in disgust.
“Probably been nicked for noncing, it wouldn’t surprise me,” said Burt.
“Nah, nor me, to be honest. Anyway, looks like Rita’s doing a bit of noncing herself. Look, Gerry’s drooling all over ‘er,” laughed Dell.
“Don’t be silly. He wouldn’t be interested in an old granny like that, would he?”
“Fucked if I know. Ah, look out, he’s got competition now. Look, Shifty’s just turned up and I bet he’s wearing breadcrumbs,” said Dell, still laughing.
“Breadcrumbs? What are you on about?” asked Burt.
“Aftershave, Burt, breadcrumbs, the birds love it,” said Dell, slapping his face with both hands as if to apply the smelly stuff. The pair laughed out loud.
Burt said, “Breadcrumbs, you cunt, I like that one. I’m gonna have to use that myself.”
“What and cop a bird like Rita? I knew it,” teased Dell.
“That ain’t a bird, more a vulture, I s’pose. Look at it. The whole family’s fucked. No wonder the boy’s an idiot,” Burt said seriously. “Mutton dressed up as fucking lamb. Mind you, you can’t blame her—the old man’s a bloody prick.”
“Looks like Shifty don’t mind a GILF though, Burt,” said Dell.
“Go on then, what’s a GILF?” asked Burt.
“Granny I’d like to fuck. It’s an acronym. GILF,” chuckled Dell.
“You ain’t well, Joey boy, breadcrumbs, now GILF. Anyway, I said there’s too much activity going on around this place, didn’t I? Now those two have been nicked. Who’s next? I bet they’re coming out with some stories between ‘em,” Burt said, a very serious look on his face.
“Yeah, well, let ‘em. They don’t know F-all about us lot,” said Dell, his face also serious.
“That won’t matter. They make it up as they go along.”
Shifty greeted Rita with the old “Surprised to see you in here by yourself, Rita,” routine and she replied accordingly. The pair put on an act for a few minutes in an attempt to make their meeting look like a chance one. She only briefly mentioned her old man’s arrest before getting stuck into the large gins Shifty and Funnel were buying for her, both men now seemingly competing for Rita’s attention, which seemed a bit out of character for Gerry, considering his sexual preferences. Perhaps he, as one of Bart’s most regular customers, was trying to find out the real reason for Bart’s arrest. Anyway, it was Shifty Rita wanted—her intentions were crystal clear—and she didn’t know the reason for Dick and Bart’s arrests, so Gerry wasn’t going to get anywhere. All the same, the three of them drank the evening away as did Burt and Dell.
While Rita was setting out her stall for the evening, things weren’t quite so romantic for the other two Durleys over at the local police station. Neither man had yet been questioned, but both had been sedated by a doctor. As the pair relaxed and slept with only their dreams for a bit of comfort, their wife/mother was planning on heading back to the family home for a night of excitement and passion with the renowned boss of the local Shift’s Lifts taxi company.
It was getting a bit late now. Rita’s head was spinning a little and Big Burt was starting to feel a bit hungry. Dell looked at his watch, a nice top-of-the-range Rolex, and saw it was ten fifteen. He then said, “Yeah, I could do with something, Burt, what ya fancy?”
“Well, after watching them two all night I don’t fancy Indian, Joe. What about you?”
“Nah, neither do I. Makes ya feel sick dun it, a woman of her age behaving like that? Mind you, none of our business, Burt. Let ‘em get on with it. What about the Turkish place up the High Street? Fancy that?”
“What’s that like? I haven’t tried it,” said Burt.
“Yeah, it’s alright. Plenty of meat and rice nicely done out and the beer’s good. You’d like it,” Dell replied.
“Cam on then, drink up. We’ll have a stroll up there then,” said Burt as he threw the remains of his pint down him as if he were in a race. Off they went, saying goodbye to the bar staff as they left. Mickey was not behind the bar tonight. He was relaxing upstairs in front of the TV. They glanced at Rita and Shifty schmoozing at the bar and both men shook their heads as they walked out the door.
Rita looked at her watch and then asked Shifty if he was hungry, to which he replied he fancied a little nibble on something, but he wasn’t hungry. “Okay, let’s have one for the road and you come back to mine with me,” said Rita, seductively rubbing at Ifty’s chest through his shirt. The pair giggled like teenagers. They both sipped slowly on their last drink and waited for one of Ifty’s drivers to take them back to the marital home of the Durleys.
Gerry, having left the pub, was not the only one going to wake up in the morning with more than a headache. He’d gone home to turn a sizeable amount of cocaine into its purist form, crack, the popular choice of the fundraising section of the DSTC and its growing clientele. Gerry’s job tonight was to process half a kilo, but after he had broken a bit off and chopped it into lines and sniffed it up himself, he couldn’t be bothered. Instead, after a couple of goes on it he decided to give one of his “boys” a bell and see if he would like to join him for a bit of fun. The other man accepted Gerry’s offer and the pair of them spent the night together high on drugs and indulging in sex.
Chapter 19
When the sun rose over London the next morning Gerry found himself still in bed with his friend and in a bit of a panic as he remembered he had a ten o’clock appointment and he hadn’t gotten even half of the order prepared.
Rita woke up with her head banging and then turned and saw Ifty beside her. Looking under the duvet, she saw the pair of them were naked except for Rita’s stockings and suspenders. She knew she needed to get rid of him quickly, just in case they let the old man out. She didn’t want the neighbours to see him either, so Ifty got rushed out of the Durley residence a bit lively.
Joey Dell woke up at his usual prison time, although he was beginning to sleep in a little longer. But he couldn’t rid himself of the guilt he was feeling over his son and the longing to see him seemed to be getting ever stronger.
The Durley men woke up to find last night’s bad dreams were actually today’s nightmares. It seemed the only way they could rid themselves of these nightmares was to blame the other. No loyalties here—it was every man for himself. That’s how these people thought. Look after number one was their policy because they had no choice but to face questioning. Panic attacks would not be accepted today. The police wanted answers from this pair and were not in the least bit impressed by the previous day’s performances. Waking up in a police cell frightened the life out of Dick and he started to have visions of spending the rest of his days in prison. If he was found guilty of whatever, they would throw the book at him and he was getting on in years. Bart was therefore going to have to carry the can.
In another cell Bart was not quite as perturbed at waking up
in a cell as his father, as he’d done exactly that only a while back when being questioned over Bill’s disappearance. But he was thinking along the same lines as his old man. As Dick was getting on a bit, Dick could carry the can. He’d had a good life and it wouldn’t matter too much if his last few years were spent in prison. Bart didn’t fancy prison at all. Surely Dick would bail him out again.
Rita knew of her son and husband’s ability to talk bullshit on any subject volunteered to them, but try as she might she had been unable to stop it. It appeared hereditary and in her heart she knew she was always fighting a losing battle. Both men believed their own lies and that was dangerous. Had she known the charges her husband was about to face, she wouldn’t and couldn’t have changed anything. Ifty was always going to be her jockey. She was sure he would go the distance. And anyway she had been thinking about leaving her husband for years now.
Dell meanwhile had gotten on the phone pretty soon after his breakfast to ask if Terry had found time to ask his old man about his ex’s old man. He was told his former father-in-law was spending most of his time in Spain at the villa on the Costa del Sol, but as of yet Terry didn’t know whether Harry and his mum were living there too.
Gerry had managed to process his cocaine parcel in time for the prearranged meet and had then inadvertently done the deal right in front of the MI5 observation team. Things were heating up for certain people in this part of London and the epicentre of the forthcoming eruption would likely be the Country. The big question was, which client would be next? Gerry was looking a strong favourite and if he went along with the Durleys, there was no telling who’d go after that. Poor old Mickey might lose all his regulars in a very short space of time.
* * *
First up for questioning was Dick and as his cell door opened he turned to face PC Jones. Jones noticed he’d hardly touched his breakfast and what he had eaten was mostly still stuck to his chin.
