‘That weren’t your fault,’ Ricky said as if reading her mind. ‘A bloodbath between Tommy and his mum was always going to happen. They were too much alike, apart from the fact she was smart and he wasn’t. The bank job just turned out to be the place where it all went down. Tommy was right anyway, it was stupid to leave without the money.’ He paused. Opened his mouth to say something, but she cut over him.
‘I know what you’re going to say. How could I have helped them take Miah’s family hostage? That should’ve been the time I called the police.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t know how much I wanted to, but I couldn’t because of what I found in the box?’
‘Which was?’
She looked down at her hands and held her tongue. ‘Was it something to do with my sister?’ he persisted.
She heard the tremble in his voice. ‘Let’s get where we’re going first and then you can look for yourself.’
Daisy knew all his fears about his sister would come tumbling out when he saw one of the items from the deposit box.
Ricky’s mobile went off the same time he pulled the car to rest in Daisy’s parking spot inside her apartment block. Ricky pulled out the phone. Stared at it, knowing he couldn’t put off taking this call anymore.
He took the call. Listened to the blistering voice of his superior officer. Sighed. ‘Yeah. I’m alright.’
‘What the fuck happened? The bank’s an abattoir . . .’
‘Yeah I know. Looks like Stella King got blown up in the explosion. Too many things went wrong.’
‘Too many things went wrong? I’ve got my superiors trying to kick my door in here and you’re telling me too many things went wrong? We’ll all be back in uniform after this. Why didn’t you let me know that the day of the robbery had changed?’
Rick knew he either told the truth about Jenna now or buried the lie deep again. What a lousy decision he had to make. But he was a cop and he had taken vows to uphold the law whatever the situation.
‘I did try to contact you, but the message obviously didn’t make it. But you ain’t going to like what else I’ve got to tell you . . .’ So he told the truth about his sister. He didn’t need to see Detective Inspector Bridges to know the man was almost hopping silly around the room.
When he finished his superior’s words grabbed him down the phone. ‘You’re in so much crap, Smart. I can’t cover this up for you, you know that . . .’
‘I’ll take my chances . . .’
‘You’re to report back to base right now.’ The words were shouted.
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that.’
‘If you’re not back here in half an hour I will personally—’
Ricky’s response was quick-fire and defiant. ‘All I need is the rest of the night. There’s more going here than this bank job. Whatever happened twenty years ago will give you more information against Stella King.’
‘I don’t need more information if you’re telling me she’s dead.’
‘I’ll come in bright and early tomorrow morning.’
‘Smart . . .’ Bridges warned.
‘Do me one last favour sir. Make sure you keep Daisy Sullivan’s name out of this.’
With the other man still blowing steam in his ear, Ricky cut the call. He held on to the mobile as he leant back in his seat, letting out a harsh puff of air.
‘Is it “Goodnight Vienna” for you and the Yard?’
Ricky looked across at Daisy.
‘If I’m lucky. Otherwise I really will be in Belmarsh this time.’
But he wasn’t in the mood for smart talk, not while his whole career hung in the balance. He flicked his head towards Daisy when he felt the warmth of her palm on his knee. Their eyes met. Ricky felt his dick move. Shit, he didn’t need a hard-on at a time like this. He didn’t have the right to be feeling pleasure when everything he’d ever worked for was dropping to earth with a bang right before his eyes.
Daisy quickly withdrew her hand and blushed. Ricky spoke as his dick fell back into line. ‘I think it’s time you shared what was in that safe-deposit box, don’t you?
‘Stay close by my side so no one can see your wound,’ Daisy whispered to Ricky as they entered her apartment block back at Wapping. The security guard sat at his usual spot behind the desk in reception. He lifted his head as they tried to scurry past without making eye contact. But his voice stopped them.
‘Miss Sullivan?’
Daisy whispered to Ricky, ‘Keep going to the lift. I’ll deal with him.’
As Ricky moved forward Daisy spun around with a smile on her face.
‘A man went up to your apartment the other day . . .’
‘Oh,’ she quickly interrupted, remembering what Misty had told her about his visit to her home. Her forced smile grew wider. ‘That was my uncle Michael.’
He leant back in his chair as he gave her a speculative look. ‘A lot of your family coming to see you these days.’ His eyes wandered in the direction that Ricky had gone in reminding Daisy that she had fibbed about Ricky being her brother.
‘Wish I could chat,’ she replied, in an off-hand tone. ‘But I’ve got to run.’ And without waiting for a response she turned around and quickly made her way to join Ricky at the lift.
Less than a minute later they entered her home. As soon as the door shut behind them Daisy let out a huge sigh of relief as she leant against the wall. She was back in her own space, which made her feel that much safer.
‘So where is it?’ Ricky’s voice cut into her moment of peace. She pushed herself off the wall and walked briskly towards the main room. She flicked on the light switch without breaking her stride. Headed towards the TV. Picked up something that lay on top of it. Ricky sucked in his breath when she turned around and saw what she was holding. Her Calamity Jane movie video box. She was about to open her mouth to speak when Ricky marched towards her. When he reached Daisy he grabbed her shoulders, startling her, and moved her backwards towards the two-seatter sofa. He pushed her down. She landed with an oomph. He loomed over her large and serious. ‘Let’s get one thing clear from the get-go. You try any funny business and I’m going to forget that my dick has got a relationship with you.’
She tossed her hair back giving him a defiant look. ‘Well you tell your very little friend,’ she gazed mockingly at his crotch, ‘that relationship is past tense . . .’
Before she could finish he swooped down and took her lips in a hard, controlling kiss. She groaned in protest for a few seconds, then relaxed and sank into the delicious thrill he sent zinging through her body. His hands caressed her breasts. She moaned. Caressed her belly. She moaned more loudly. His swift moving hands slid down her arms. She was so deep into the tailspin of passion he’d sent her in that she was wasn’t prepared for his next move. He whipped the Calamity Jane video box from her. She shot half off the seat. He stepped back and dangled the box teasingly at her.
Then he plonked himself down beside her and opened the box. He turned it upside down. The contents fell on the sofa between them.
Chapter Forty-five
‘Don’t touch it.’
Ricky’s voice was small. Quiet as if he were afraid someone else would hear.
Their collective breathing battered the room as they both stared at the items between them. Or rather stared at one of the items.
A gun. A Beretta.
‘Do you think it belongs to Charlie?’ Daisy whispered.
Ricky shook his head as he responded. ‘Dunno. What we do know is that something happened twenty years ago that involved Stella, two men called Clarke and Johnson and a third unnamed party.’
Daisy cut furiously over him, ‘Clarke and Johnson, Clarke and Johnson.’ She rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead. ‘I know I’ve heard those names before somewhere . . .’
‘Look,’ Ricky punched in.
She waved her hands in the air, her bracelets bobbing against her arms. ‘Let me think. I’ve heard those names recently.’ Her head shook from side-to-side. ‘Jeep
ers, where was . . .’ Her gaze slammed into him. ‘Can’t be. No . . .’
He leant towards her. ‘Tell me.’
The blue of eyes covered with a sheen of disbelief. ‘The day Charlie died two cops came to see him. Detective Sergeant Clarke and Detective Inspector Johnson.’
Ricky reared back as if he’d been slapped. ‘What did this Johnson look like?’
Her hands gestured in the air. ‘Tall. Designer suit. Handsome. Was wearing a wedding ring so I’m guessing he’s a family man and . . .’
‘Black.’ He ended. Before she could say another word he slammed his fist into the sofa. ‘Bollocks.’
‘I take it that means you know him?’
‘He’s only the cop all us black boys in blue look up to. He’s a man who plays it by the book, though. There’s no way he could be involved in this.’
‘Two policemen called Clarke and Johnson came to see Charlie. Stella mentions two guys called Clarke and Johnson on the phone to another person who is clearly mixed up in whatever happened twenty years ago. That isn’t a coincidence, Ricky.’
Ricky seemed incapable of speech – a first, Daisy thought – so she continued outlining what they knew so far. ‘We know from Stella’s conversation with this third person that they have a daughter. The only two people anywhere near this who we know have daughters are Randal Curtis and Priscilla Hopkirk.’
Ricky shook his head. ‘Hopkirk’s widow is out of the picture. I got my people to check her out and she’s a regular orphan Annie.’
‘And I’m sure you would have said that about Johnson five minutes ago so I don’t think we can take anyone out of the picture.’ She stopped talking because she knew her next words were going to shake Ricky up even more. But it had to be said. ‘We also know that your sister went to work for Stella one night twenty years ago and never came back. And now we have a gun.’ She looked hard at it. ‘Which must have been used to do something . . . like shoot someone, that’s what they’re usually for.’ He looked at her, eyes blazing, breathing ragged. ‘Ricky, do you think someone shot her? That this has all been about covering up her murder?’
Ricky squeezed his eyes shut, dealing with the information she lay before him. He shook his head. Reopened his eyes. ‘I dunno, but I tell you this much, I ain’t stopping until I find out.’ He stopped, easing his breath back to normal. When he spoke again she knew he was back in control, back in Detective Inspector Ricardo Smart mode. He looked at the other items next to the gun. ‘Let’s find out what else we’ve got here.’
A torn piece of A5-sized card and a brochure of some kind. He flipped over the torn card to reveal the photo of a man. White guy, around forty, with thick bushy hair, laced with threads of silver, wearing a flashy suit, smile and a ring. Ricky peered closer. Titanium ring. Chunky. Celtic design.
‘Who is he?’ Daisy also peered harder at the photo as she threw out her question.
‘Dunno, but . . .’ Ricky left his words suspended in the air as his fingers flipped at his phone. He twisted his mobile around so that Daisy could see. She stared at another photo with torn edges with another man in it. ‘I found that,’ Ricky started. ‘In Stella King’s drawer the night I sneaked into her office. Remember the night you followed me.’ Daisy nodded. ‘And if I’m not mistaken.’ Ricky picked up the photo on the sofa and lay it against the photo on the mobile. ‘Both halves make the same photo.’
‘Who’s the man in the photo you found at Stella’s?’
Ricky glanced up at her. ‘Stella’s husband, Stevie King. See how their hands shoot out.’ He waved his hand over both photos. ‘They’re shaking hands, which means they were doing business with each other because Stevie King weren’t a man who shook anyone’s hand unless they were an associate.’
‘If he was close to Stevie King why would anyone have ripped the picture apart? Kept it in a safe-deposit box? And what has this got to do with Charlie and my dad?’
‘And my sister?’ Ricky pointed to two people in the background of the photo of Stevie King. ‘That’s my sister sitting at a table with some guy.’
Daisy shifted her gaze, let out a soft puff of air. She wasn’t staring at Ricky’s sister, but at the man at the table with her. ‘That’s Randal Curtis.’
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘He’s younger but it’s Randy Randal, alright.’
‘Tell me about him.’
‘He was Charlie’s partner in the law firm. Other than that, all I know of his background is that he came from a working-class London family. Had a son who died of a drugs overdose. And I think I heard once that his parents are still alive and that he’s got a younger sister.’
‘OK,’ Ricky started. ‘Let’s look at the big picture here. In the frame with Stella King is Charlie Hopkirk. Both are dead. Then there’s Clarke and Johnson, who may or may not be cops. We’ve got my sister who disappeared and a gun. We’ve also got two halves of a photo showing Stevie King and an unnamed man and behind them, sitting pretty, are my sister and Randal Curtis.’
‘And that.’ Daisy pointed to the final item from the deposit box. A brochure. She picked it up with her fingertips. The front cover was a picture of a huge stately looking home set in gorgeous grounds. She read out the name on the top of the pamphlet. ‘Harding Hall. Looks like the brochure for a health farm or something.’ She flicked through it. Nothing. At the back was a flap with folded papers inside. She pulled some out. ‘This lot looks like the booking forms.’ She stuck the papers back. ‘Maybe Charlie just shoved it in the deposit box by mistake.’
She shoved the papers back inside and dropped the brochure back on the sofa.
‘If the man in the photo is a Face in the underworld, Misty might be able to help us. She can give us chapter and verse on everyone from the Krays and Richardsons to the present day.’
‘Well here’s a steer for you, Einstein,’ Ricky said in a tight voice. ‘Misty ain’t going to be opening her trap for at least the next few hours because someone doped her out.’
Daisy tugged at her lip as guilt flooded her, remembering how she’d drugged the very same people who had opened their arms and hearts to a fatherless fifteen-year-old kid. They would have been able to help her. She shouldn’t have drugged them. But they wouldn’t have let you go with Ricky, a tiny voice inside her mind whispered. They remained in silence, each other’s brain rattling through a list of people. Suddenly Daisy dipped into her pocket and took out a white business card. ‘I think I know who might be able to help.’
‘Who?’
She avoided his gaze. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
‘This ain’t no game, Daisy.’
Her nostril flared in anger. ‘I watched three people get gunned down today. Watched my mother get blown up. Betrayed Jackie, the only woman I’ve thought of as my mum. Most probably lost the best bloke a girl could ever hope to have. So I don’t need you to remind me what a fucking mess I’ve made of my life.’
Ricky just shook his head at her rant and said, ‘Get a carrier bag.’
She was back a few seconds later with a Waitrose bag. Ricky picked up the gun with his fingertips. Daisy stepped towards him, opening the bag. He dropped the gun into it, then took the bag from her.
‘What do you plan to do?’ Daisy asked as she retook her seat.
Instead of answering her Ricky pulled out his mobile and stood up, heading for the French doors with the incredible view over the river. ‘Brett, it’s Ricky.’
‘Hey, long time, no hear.’
‘I need a favour.’
‘Is it a legal one this time?’
‘I need you to check something out for me.’
‘Sure, but it will have to be tomorrow because I’ve—’
‘No, it needs doing asap.’
‘No can do. I’m with the missus and she already thinks I’m giving my lovely assistant too much help with her career.’
‘Which we all know you are. Do this for me and I’ll join your rugby club.’
The man on the ot
her end of the line was silent for a moment. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal. Where do you want to meet?’
Ricky told him and ended the call. ‘Who was that?’ Daisy said.
‘Forensic expert mate of mine. If anyone can find any evidence on the gun it will be him. Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend to try and see if they can ID the bloke in the photo while I get the ball rolling about the gun.’
He grabbed the carrier bag and got to his feet. ‘The night’s moving on, so let’s meet back here by nine at the latest.’ He turned and briskly made for the door. As he reached it he suddenly twisted his head to look over his shoulder at her. ‘You’re right, Jerome is a good man, but you’re going to have to eventually ask yourself what you’re doing hanging out with me then?’
Her mind swung back to them doing the dirty in the car. Shit, if she turned up pregnant she didn’t know what she would do. The look she saw on his face told her that he was thinking exactly the same thing.
As soon as he got outside Ricky hit his mobile.
‘Ricky,’ DI Bridges yelled. ‘If you’re not back—’
‘I need you to check out a DS Clarke for me and DI Johnson . . .’
‘What? Johnson? You’ve gone nuts. Perhaps we can use that to explain your behaviour at the disciplinary.’
‘Believe me, in this case I wish I was. I think I’m onto something that could blow the whole Met apart . . .’
Chapter Forty-six
Ray-Ray Digby got out of his motor in the dimly lit car park in Stratford, East London. He turned to his associate, a bulky man seated in the driver’s seat. ‘Any funny business and you come out shooting, got it?’
The other man nodded. Ray-Ray straightened his jacket and hopped out of the car. He was in a jubilant mood after the news on the grapevine had reached him that Tommy and Stella King were over for good. Stupid cunts. No one did bank jobs anymore. East London was buzzing with the news that Stella had been blown to kingdom come. Fuck, he’d wished it had been him to light the fuse, but some other lucky bastard had got there before him. After Tommy King’s hired gun had shot his younger brother, the Kings were marked for life in his eyes. Still, Ray-Ray had thought twice about taking on Stella King. And now he didn’t need to anymore because someone had done him the favour. Then forty minutes ago he’d got the call asking if he was interested in taking out the thug who’d plugged lead into Johnny. Ricky Smart, that was the shooter’s name. He was going to regret the day he ever tangled with the Digbys.
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