by Roberta Kray
‘You shouldn’t have let her go!’
Jackie gave an empty laugh. ‘Who am I, her bloody keeper? Don’t put this on me, you bitch.’
‘We’re supposed to look out for each other.’
‘Don’t give me that. She had a mind of her own, didn’t she? I didn’t make her do nothin’.’
‘It’s no one’s fault,’ Michelle said. ‘Except for the bastard who killed her. For fuck’s sake, can’t you two just drop it?’
Lolly went up to Stella and touched her arm. ‘Are you all right?’
Jackie make a tsk sound in the back of her throat. ‘Does she look all right?’
‘Don’t start on her,’ Stella snarled. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Jesus, you’re what’s wrong with me. Have you heard yourself? I’m sick of listening to it.’
‘Well, no one’s forcing you. Why don’t you just piss off and leave us alone?’
‘I’ve had enough of this.’ Jackie said. She waved a hand at Stella, threw Lolly a dirty look, turned on her heel and stormed off.
‘What was all that about?’ Lolly asked.
Michelle shook her head. ‘I’d better go after her.’
Stella thrust a pound note into Lolly’s palm. ‘Get us a voddy, will you, love? A double. And buy yourself one. I need to sit down.’ She staggered a few steps to a table that had just been vacated, slumped down onto a chair and fumbled for her cigarettes.
Lolly went to the bar and joined the queue. While she was waiting to be served she kept an eye on Stella in case she keeled over. How long had she been drinking for? Most of the afternoon by the look of her; she must have had a skinful before the pub even opened. Dana’s murder, unsurprisingly, had knocked her for six.
Lolly ordered a single vodka – she reckoned Stella wouldn’t notice the difference – and added a whole bottle of tonic to the glass. She got half a bitter for herself, carried the two drinks over to the table, handed over the change and sat down.
By now Stella’s anger had dissolved and she’d become maudlin. ‘Dana weren’t no older than you, Lol. What kind of age is that for a girl to die?’ She sighed into the vodka. ‘Makes you wonder what it’s all about. Had her whole life ahead of her and now . . . ’
‘I know. It’s God-awful. Have you heard anything? Have they got any idea who did it yet?’
‘They ain’t said, but I reckon they think it was a punter.’
‘And you don’t?’
Stella gave a shrug, pulled on her cigarette and exhaled the smoke. ‘Dana weren’t stupid. She knew the score. She never worked away from the house.’
Lolly had only met Dana a few times and that had been in passing. The impression she’d got was of a young, slightly brittle girl who’d acted tough but probably wasn’t. ‘What did Jackie mean about not making her go? Go where?’
Stella examined the smouldering tip of her cigarette for a while, watching the grey end grow longer before finally flicking the ash in the general direction of the ashtray. It fell short and dropped onto the table, a tiny cylinder of dust. She frowned, as though she’d lost her train of thought.
‘Jackie,’ Lolly prompted. ‘Why were you arguing?’
‘Oh, yeah, that. I told her to keep an eye on Dana – I was worried about her – but she let her waltz off without even asking where she was going.’
‘What were you so worried about?’
‘She hooked up with some bloke a few weeks back, reckoned he could help her find her mum. Although I reckon the only person he was helping was himself. Taking money off her right, left and centre he was. Freddy he was called, or at least that’s what he said.’
The name made Lolly’s antennae twitch. She knew two Freddys, both connected to Brenda Cecil: one was her no-good wastrel of a husband, the other her son Freddy Junior, or FJ as he was known. ‘Did you tell the law?’
‘Yeah, I told them. Can’t say they were interested though. Didn’t bat an eyelid, did they? Truth is, Lol, they don’t give a damn. To them Dana was just another lousy tom with a drug habit and shit taste in punters. They’re only going through the motions. The only reason they’re doing anything is ’cause they’re worried about having the Yorkshire Ripper or a copycat on their patch.’
‘You ever meet him, this Freddy?’
‘Nah, never set eyes on him. He didn’t come to the house, far as I know. Well, he wouldn’t, would he? Might get asked some awkward bloody questions by the rest of us.’
Lolly sipped her beer and thought about it. ‘So what was the deal with Dana’s mum?’
‘Dumped her on a church doorstep near Hackney Fields when she was a baby. Or somebody did. They never found out who. Didn’t leave a note or nothin’. Not even to say what her name was. It was the nurses at the hospital who called her Dana. She grew up in care without a clue who her family was, and I guess that’s always hard. Anyway, she reckoned someone had to know something and so she started digging, looking at the old newspaper reports and asking around in the area. Don’t ask me how she met this Freddy ’cause I don’t have a clue, but I reckon he saw a chance to make a few quid and grabbed it with both hands. He told her he’d got some leads but odds are he knew fuck all and was just stringing her along.’
‘But why would he have killed her? I mean, if she was giving him money he was getting exactly what he wanted. She wasn’t much use to him dead.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe he was just the kind of shit who gets a kick out of playing games with women. Once he’d had enough . . . ’ Stella stubbed out her fag and immediately lit another. ‘Anyway, I’ll get to the bottom of it. I’ll find out who the bastard is.’
‘And how are you going to do that?’
‘I’ll think of something.’
‘You need to be careful, Stella.’
But Stella was beyond caring about her own personal safety. ‘I’ll get him,’ she said. ‘One way or another I’ll nail the bastard.’
11
Saturday 17 September. Kellston
It was around eight-fifteen when Lolly departed from the Fox. By then Jackie had come back and a reconciliation had taken place involving tears, apologies and hugs. It was always like that with Stella and Jackie: daggers drawn one minute, best pals the next. Anyway, it meant that Lolly didn’t need to worry about Stella getting home safely so she made her excuses and left.
Before heading for the flat, she walked along the road and put her head round the door of the Hope and Anchor. It was much quieter than the Fox, a spit and sawdust dive where the local villains gathered to recruit for jobs or make plans for new ones. There were no women inside, only a few blokes who gave her hard, unwelcoming stares as if challenging her to cross the threshold. Lolly didn’t. Once she’d established that Terry wasn’t there, she quickly withdrew.
It was dark now but the streets were bright enough and busy enough for her not to be too anxious. There was a murderer out there somewhere but she pushed it to the back of her mind. The police were more in evidence than usual with cars cruising down the high street and a number of foot soldiers patrolling the area. An exercise in making the locals feel safe.
Lolly did her usual thing of crossing the road before reaching the pawnbroker’s. This meant walking past the shadowy expanse of the green, but it was still preferable to walking past the Cecils’. She kept to the outer edge of the pavement, keeping her eyes peeled for any sudden signs of movement, and stepped up the pace until she’d cleared the danger zone. All sorts lurked on the green at night: junkies and muggers and troubled kids from the Mansfield estate.
Lolly reached the flat and fumbled in her pocket for the key. The Indian was doing brisk business with a line of customers inside stretching almost to the door. Her stomach rumbled as she smelled the spice drifting in the air and she was briefly tempted. But no, she couldn’t afford to be splashing out money on takeaways. It would be beans on toast for her tonight.
She found the key, put it in the lock and opened the door. It was then, just as she was going inside,
that she heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind her.
‘Hey, Lolly.’
It was eighteen months since she’d last heard that voice but she would have known it anywhere. Lolly spun round and there he was: Jude Rule. Her surprise was rapidly overtaken by shock and her mouth dropped open. He was a mess, his face beaten and one eye almost closed. Blood was in his hair and spattered on his clothes. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have given him the time of day, but this hardly seemed the time to be bearing grudges.
‘Christ, what happened to you?’
Jude gave a thin smile. ‘Tony Cecil happened. But don’t worry, I’m okay. It looks worse than it is. Can I come in? Would you mind?’
Lolly didn’t have the heart to say no. Even after everything he’d done to her, she still felt something for him. Just pity, she told herself, as she nodded and beckoned him in. ‘What are you even doing here? In Kellston, I mean. I thought you’d moved away.’
‘I’ve still got the flat, but I don’t use it much.’ Jude trudged slowly up the stairs, each step clearly causing him pain. ‘I only came back for a few days, to collect some stuff and next thing . . . ’
‘I saw Tony this morning. He was asking where you were. I’d have warned you if I’d known you were back.’ Lolly wasn’t sure if this was true or not, but that old desire to please had suddenly resurfaced. She didn’t want him to think badly of her even though he was the one who should be feeling guilty.
In the light of the living room she could see his injuries more clearly. ‘Do you want some ice for that eye?’
Jude shook his head and sat down on the sofa. ‘The bastard had his brother with him. If it had just been Tony . . . ’
If it had just been Tony, Lolly thought, the outcome would have been exactly the same. Jude wasn’t a fighter. ‘Two against one,’ she said. ‘You didn’t stand a chance. What I don’t understand is why he’s coming after you after all this time. It’s been six years, for God’s sake.’
‘Yeah, well, he was banged up for three of those, and by the time he got out I wasn’t around any more. Someone must have seen me and tipped him off.’
‘You want a coffee?’ she asked. ‘Sorry, but I haven’t got anything stronger.’
‘No, thanks. I can’t stay for long. I only came to ask about Mal.’
Lolly, who had been labouring under the illusion that he had turned to her for refuge, for sanctuary, felt her stomach tighten. ‘What?’
‘I’m presuming you know where he is.’
‘Then you’re presuming wrongly.’ She hissed out the words, glaring at him. ‘How the hell would I know?’
‘Esther’s worried,’ he said. ‘She thinks he might come after her.’
Esther. Bloody Esther. Just hearing her name made Lolly grit her teeth. ‘And why would he do that?’
Jude raised his eyebrows. ‘Why do you think? She’s the one who got him locked up, wasn’t she?’
‘Mal would never hurt Esther. It’s ridiculous and you know it.’
‘He pushed her down the steps, Lol. He could have killed her.’
‘She fell down the steps. It was an accident. I saw it with my own eyes. You weren’t even there.’
‘She still got him sent down over Teddy Heath. You think he’s happy about that? I wouldn’t be if I was in his shoes.’
‘If she’s worried she should go to the police.’
‘Oh, she’s already talked to them, but who wants a load of plods hanging round the house? It doesn’t do much for the ambience. Besides, they can hardly take care of her twenty-four hours a day.’
Lolly, who hadn’t sat down yet, stared at him with suspicion. ‘Tell me what’s really going on.’
‘I’ve already told you.’
‘No, that doesn’t make any sense. Mal’s due to be released in a few months. If he wanted to have it out with Esther – and I’m not even saying he does – he could do it then. Why would he risk his future, his freedom, everything and take off now?’
‘Because by the time he was released, she’d be gone.’
‘What?’
‘She’s leaving,’ Jude said. ‘Going to the States. She has a couple of films lined up over there. If it all works out, she won’t be coming back.’
Lolly scowled at him, raising her shoulders in a shrug. ‘So what? There’s such a thing as phones, aeroplanes. He doesn’t have to abscond from jail in order to talk to her. She’s an actress; it’s not as though she can just disappear.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t fancy traipsing halfway round the world to see her.’
But Lolly wasn’t buying it. ‘There’s something else going on. Tell me.’
Jude touched his damaged eye and sucked in a breath. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘It isn’t.’
‘Why don’t you just tell me where he is.’
‘Because I don’t know. And to be quite honest, even if I did, I wouldn’t.’
Jude gave a slow shake of his head, his gaze sliding over the room, as though he might find some evidence of Mal having been there. ‘You’re not doing him any favours.’
Lolly was reminded of the two cops who’d come to visit. ‘You want to search the place? He’s not here if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘No, even Mal wouldn’t be that stupid.’
Suddenly, Lolly didn’t want him in her flat. Any sympathy she’d had was gone. He was still the same old Jude, without principles, without conscience. He didn’t care about her in the slightest. Esther was still pulling his strings. The only reason he was here was to try and get information. ‘You should go to A&E,’ she said coldly, ‘get yourself seen to. Your face is a mess.’
‘I’ll be fine. Look, Esther wants to talk to you. I’ve got the car outside. We can be there in an hour.’
Lolly wondered what went on in that head of his; maybe Tony Cecil had scrambled his brains. ‘Are you kidding me? Esther kicked me out, remember? I’d rather walk through a pit of snakes than speak to that woman again.’
‘She’s sorry about that. It was . . . a difficult time.’
‘Yeah, a difficult time for me. Anyway, I can’t help her. If she thinks I know where Mal is she’s mistaken. And I’m not going all the way to West Henby to repeat what I’ve already said to you.’
‘She’s got other things she wants to talk about.’
‘Like what?’
Jude averted his eyes, not meeting her gaze. ‘Maybe she wants to apologise.’
‘When hell freezes over. Come on, Jude, I wasn’t born yesterday. What’s she up to?’
Jude rose slowly to his feet. ‘I have to get going. You know where we are if you change your mind.’
She noted the ‘we’, as though they were a couple, but her pride wouldn’t permit her to delve any further. She didn’t want him to imagine she had the tiniest bit of interest in his love life. Instead she asked, ‘So, is that where you’re living now?’
‘For the moment, until we go to the States.’
‘You’re going too?’
‘Why not? I’m sick of this country and all the people in it. I can’t wait to see the back of the damn place.’
Lolly walked with him to the top of the stairs. Every time they met, it always turned to rancour. She wished he hadn’t come tonight, wished she hadn’t had to look at his stupid battered face. ‘You should report him; Tony Cecil, I mean. You could have him for assault.’
‘And spend the next three hours down Cowan Road? No thanks. I’ve got better things to do.’
There was a short awkward silence before Lolly said, ‘Bye then. Watch how you go.’
Jude looked like he was about to say something in response, but his mouth closed almost as soon as it opened. He gave a cursory nod, went down the stairs and out of the door. She heard the click and then there was silence.
Lolly stood for a while gazing down at nothing.
12
Saturday 17 September. Mayfair
Vinnie Keane could see the wh
ole room from his position at the bar. The pub was an upmarket joint in the heart of Mayfair, all shiny chrome and sparkling glass. The walls were covered in what passed for art, big blocks of colour that could have been painted by a five-year-old. It gave him a headache just to look at them.
The theatre crowd had come and gone, leaving a temporary lull. Now the pub was filling up again with a different crowd, men and women who would later move on to the swish clubs and casinos. The air was filled with the scent of expensive perfume. He sipped his overpriced Scotch while his gaze slid from face to face, never settling for long, never drawing any attention to himself.
Terry was sitting in the corner, still talking to Les Pool. It was a conversation that had been going on for over two hours now while the men tried to broker a deal over Soho territory. There had been trouble recently between the rival firms, resulting in fights and stabbings as they jostled for position. The situation was only pleasing to one party and that was the law. Old Bill was more than happy to have London’s villains at loggerheads so long as it didn’t develop into all-out warfare.
It was Terry’s willingness to negotiate that made him different to his predecessor, Joe Quinn. Joe would have gone in, all guns blazing, the moment anyone stepped on his toes, but Terry had a smarter approach. If something could be resolved peacefully with a bit of give and take, then that’s the way he would go. He’d rather spend his time making money than feuding.
That wasn’t to say Terry was a pushover. There were plenty who suspected he’d killed Joe, and even if he hadn’t the rumours didn’t harm his reputation. In this business, a streak of ruthlessness was useful. Vinnie much preferred this boss to the last. You knew where you were with Terry. Joe had been a vicious bastard, feared rather than respected, and his death was no great loss to the world.
Vinnie glanced over to the other side of the bar where his counterpart was positioned. Rico was Les Pool’s security, a tall, thin piece of shit with scars down his left cheek. They could have sat and drunk together but Vinnie preferred his own company. The bloke was weird, twisted, with a temper that would flare at the least provocation. One word out of place and he’d get the hump. Who needed that kind of crap? Nobody.
