Gangster Girl

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  Aunt Ollie was right, it was a bad thing she’d done. But she didn’t have time for regrets, not with Ricky facing the situation on his own.

  ‘We don’t have time for this. I need to help Ricky.’ She strode towards the door, wincing from the pain in her leg.

  But Jackie grabbed her arm. ‘First flamin’ decent thing that bloke has done is to leave you with us.’

  Daisy tried to shake the smaller woman’s hand off, but Jackie held on like a Rottweiler. ‘You don’t understand, I think he might be walking into a set-up. He hasn’t got anyone covering his back.’

  ‘Will you listen to yourself?’ Jackie snapped. ‘You really are beginning to sound like Frankie Sullivan’s daughter.’

  A suffocating cover of silence dropped in the air. Jackie laid her fingers across her lips as if she’d said something forbidden.

  Daisy dipped her head. ‘That’s who I am. And always will be.’ Her tone was quiet and sad. Before she could continue a furious Jackie grabbed hold of her again. Her eyes resembled green fire. ‘Frankie Sullivan put you in this world, but you’ve made your own world for yourself, you hear me?’ She shook Daisy. ‘I don’t ever want to hear you talk about your life like it’s some sorta curse. You’re amazing. The best daughter anyone could ever ask for, you get me?’ She shook her again. This time the Calamity Jane video box tumbled from under Daisy’s top and nose-dived onto the floor. The impact shot it open and its contents scattered on the floor.

  Ollie rushed forward the same time Daisy bent to pick up the items on the floor. Daisy picked up the torn photo as Jackie asked, ‘What’s that lot?’

  Daisy looked up at her, biting her lip. ‘The stuff in Charlie’s deposit box.’

  ‘Hold up a minute, I thought that was still in the bank.’

  Shame shone in Daisy’s eyes as she kept her gaze steady on her adoptive mum. ‘I had them all the time.’ She waved her hand as Jackie opened her mouth to deliver, no doubt, a blistering tongue-lashing. But Daisy got there first. ‘I know what you’re going to say. But I didn’t have a choice. I don’t have time to explain at the moment.’

  Suddenly Jackie’s harsh breathing filled the air. Her eyes were glued to the photo in Daisy’s hand.

  ‘Where did you get that from?’ Jackie’s face was pale.

  Daisy got to her feet and moved towards Jackie with concern. ‘It’s a man called Maxwell Henley, who was the leader of Woodbridge Council years ago . . .’

  ‘He’s a fucking pervert, that’s what he is.’ Jackie’s voice shook as she ran her unsteady hand over her mouth.

  ‘Tell me,’ Daisy simply asked.

  Jackie and Ollie exchanged looks. Ollie nodded. Jackie spoke. ‘We haven’t told you much about our lives as kids and I’m grateful you never asked. But for a time me and your aunts all lived in a care home. I can’t even say its name because it makes me want to throw up.’ She swallowed. Daisy limped forward and placed her arm around Jackie’s trembling shoulders. ‘These men would come and . . . well, it never happened to us. But one of the men I saw was that geezer in the photo.’

  ‘Are you saying that Maxwell Henley . . . ?’

  ‘Was one of the pervs who interfered with the kids? Yes I am.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Ollie interrupted standing up. She held out the brochure that was inside the video box and some papers.

  Daisy turned to her, arms still protectively around Jackie. ‘Not sure. I don’t know why Charlie would have had a holiday brochure in his box. And the papers are just the booking forms to fill out.’

  Ollie shook her head. ‘No, this is the Harding Hall brochure.’

  ‘What?’ Daisy’s arm fell away from Jackie.

  ‘Harding Hall. It’s a well-known residential hospital for troubled teenagers. We often use them.’ Ollie ran two high-profile organisations that helped refugees and asylum seekers, especially children who arrived in Britain unaccompanied by an adult. ‘They really help some of our more traumatised teenagers.’

  ‘But what’s Charlie doing with it?’

  ‘It might help if you read this.’ She passed the booking forms to Daisy.

  Daisy scanned one sheet. Then another. And another. She’d read this all before. Just booking forms. Her mouth opened wider and wider when she read the next page, papers she hadn’t read before. And the next. She shook her head repeatedly mumbling ‘Oh no’. She shoved the paper in her pocket as she rushed, half limping, for the door.

  But Jackie grabbed her arm. ‘You ain’t going nowhere.’

  ‘Ricky’s gone to meet Jo-Jo.’

  ‘And so what?’

  Daisy pushed the papers at her. Jackie read. ‘Blimey,’ she let out a minute later.

  ‘Please help me.’

  Jackie turned to Ollie and calmly asked, ‘You still remember how to use one?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

  ‘We still got them ain’t we?’

  Ollie nodded. Confused, Daisy watched as Ollie headed for the fireplace. She leant down and stuck her hand up the chimney breast. With a tug she pulled something out. A blue plastic carrier bag wrapped over with two strips of black tape. She moved towards the table. Laid the bulky bag on top.

  She flicked her head to Daisy, her black eyes deadly serious. ‘You still want us to help you?’

  Daisy nodded.

  Ollie pulled the tape off the bag. Unwrapped it. Opened it. Daisy sucked in her breath as Ollie calmly laid two things on the table. Two guns.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  It might be a set-up. The idea stayed at the front of Ricky’s mind as he gazed at the lock-up hidden in the night shadows across the street. Mind you, he couldn’t imagine Jo-Jo King having the brainpower to organise one. No, he decided, she must be running scared and needed someone to help her get out of this mess, so who better to ask than her long-lost sister Daisy. Plus she was expecting Daisy to come, not him. He checked out the street. Lonely, dark, not a living soul in sight. Still, he’d give it a few more minutes, see if anyone turned up who wasn’t supposed to be there.

  He waited a full twenty minutes, just to be on the safe side. Deciding that Jo-Jo must already be inside he cautiously moved towards the lock-up. The door was closed. Ricky’s gaze darted over the building. He pushed with his foot at the metal door and it swung open.

  The light was on. The room was rectangular, with a couple of rusty barrels lying idle against a wall with graffiti and a room that might have been an office at one time tucked in a far corner. A pool of dirty water settled in a dip in the concrete floor from a leak above. But none of that interested Ricky; what interested him was he couldn’t see another living soul. He hesitated for a second. Ricky’s training both in the force and on the streets had taught him that if you planned to meet someone and they weren’t there when you arrived smell a rat immediately. ‘Jo-Jo?’ His voice echoed off the metal but he got no reply.

  Could something have happened to Jo-Jo? He moved inside. Pulled out his gun and headed, one easy step at a time, towards the office. He called Jo-Jo’s name again. No reply. He didn’t like this one bit, but he kept moving forward. Reached the entrance of the office. Suddenly all the lights flicked off.

  Something grabbed the front of his shirt and he was catapulted inside the room. He landed on his back as his gun flew from his hand. Before he could right himself something hard whacked him on the right shoulder. He let out a yell as pain screamed down the arm he had a bullet wound in. A boot stamped onto his chest holding him down. The lights belted back on. Two men stood over him, one packing a piece and the other with a crowbar that had just knocked Ricky for six. The man with the gun bent over him.

  ‘You’re getting careless, mate. I’m Ray-Ray Digby, by the way.’ Ricky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘I see you’ve heard the name. Must’ve been when you plugged a couple of caps into my brother when you went strolling with Tommy King the other day.’

  Ray-Ray turned to the man with his foot still on Ricky and ordered. ‘Shut the door.’ As he moved Ray-Ray
settled the aim of his gun on Ricky’s heart.

  ‘Are you alright, there? You don’t look too clever with that gash on your shoulder.’

  Ricky faced up. ‘I’m alright Ray-Ray, bit of a girly swing your mate’s got there, if you don’t mind me saying. I’ve had much worse.’

  ‘Take the piss all you like, mate. You’ll be laughing on the other side of your busted face a bit later and no mistake.’

  Ricky laughed at him, ‘You don’t think I really came on my own do you? This is going to come as a surprise to you but I’m a cop.’ Shock covered the other man’s face. ‘You and your boyfriend over there are toast.’

  Ray-Ray looked at him for a few seconds. Then shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. We kept our eye on the street; we would’ve seen the Bill if they were lurking about. Nah, I think you’re suffering from concussion, mate.’

  Ricky looked to the door. He was shocked at what he saw. Ray-Ray’s thug was walking backwards, his arms raised, covered by two very heavily armed women with another trailing behind. Jackie, Ollie and Daisy.

  ‘Fuck me sideways,’ Ray-Ray whispered.

  ‘You will be if you don’t put the gun down now,’ Daisy Sullivan ordered.

  ‘I’ve told you that someone paid me a hundred Gs to fuck over you and your girlfriend. We nearly got you as well when we tried to run you down earlier,’ Ray-Ray Digby shouted.

  He sat bound, stark naked, as did his associate on the cold, concrete floor. Jackie and Ollie stood to the side, their guns aimed directly at the men.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Daisy asked as she cleaned Ricky’s latest wound.

  ‘Sure.’ They looked at each other. Then kissed. They only moved apart when they heard Jackie muttering with disapproval.

  ‘Who paid you?’ Ricky demanded, turning his attention to the cringing Ray-Ray.

  ‘Want me to take off one of his nuts?’ Jackie asked calmly as she lowered her gun in line with one of his testicles.

  ‘I’m telling the fucking truth!’ Ray-Ray’s voice was desperate as he looked at the gun. ‘Some woman. Just said she wanted you both out of the way.’

  ‘What woman?’ Ricky threw back, but Ray–Ray wasn’t saying anything else.

  Ricky was about to ask if she knew about Stella’s brother, but Daisy got there first.

  ‘You’d better read this . . .’ Daisy handed him the document they’d found in the Harding Hall brochure.

  PSYCHIATRIC REPORT

  Doctor: A. Mitcham

  Patient: Josephine Joanne King

  Age: 15

  History: Has been expelled from a number of schools because of violent attacks towards other children, including biting and punching others. In one attack she stabbed another child with a sharp pencil in the face. In another she constructed an electronic device and attached it to another child’s chair which sent electric shocks through them. She is very good with her hands and has a special interest in making things and is adept at finding information on the Internet to help her. She admits this is how she found out how to make an electronic system. She refuses to discuss why she behaves like this or her emotional state. The school reports that none of the other parents will press charges because of the reputation that Josephine’s family has in the community.

  She also has a history of self-harming.

  Diagnosis: Josephine refuses to discuss her issues or the source of her issues. She appears to be a normal girl during one-to-one meetings. But when her mother is mentioned she becomes very withdrawn and sullen. It is my professional opinion that she has suffered some type of childhood trauma and uses violence to try to get her mother’s attention and love. It is also my opinion that if she does not get the required help soon her violence will escalate and she may seriously hurt someone, including members of her own family.

  Family response: Her mother attended the session with her. She believes that her daughter is just like any other normal teenager and refuses to see the seriousness of the situation. She has dismissed my findings as ‘social worker crap’ and ‘psycho-babble’. I have explained the urgency of her daughter’s issues to her mother, but her mother refuses to consider any further support, medical or otherwise.

  It is my opinion that if her mother does not do anything to address this situation, one day Josephine may resort to psychotic behaviour of an extremely violent nature, without warning, that may seriously injure people around her, including herself.

  Further Treatment: She should be admitted immediately to the centre for treatment. Her mother refuses to do this or to admit her to another care facility.

  ‘No way,’ Ricky let out as he glanced at Daisy. ‘Do you think . . . ?’

  ‘She planted that car bomb?’ Daisy finished. ‘Yes. And God knows who else she’ll kill before this night’s over. And it looks like she’s already tried to pay that scumbag over there to kill both of us.’

  ‘We need to stop her now.’

  ‘Oi,’ Jackie said. ‘What are we going to do with these two likely lads?’

  Ricky pulled out his mobile and punched in a number. ‘Sir, it’s me. I’ve got two blokes for you, you’ll want to chat to them about going around assaulting people.’ He gave his superior officer the address. ‘I’m on the case with the other business . . .’ he continued.

  ‘Clarke’s dead,’ the voice on the other end of the line informed him.

  Ricky took an involuntary step back. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve heard it’s suicide, but there’s nothing official. You need to tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘When I know myself I’ll let you know.’ And with that Ricky cut the call.

  He immediately turned back to Daisy. ‘We need to find Jo-Jo before she does anything else.’

  They ran towards the exit.

  ‘What about us?’ Jackie called.

  But neither Ricky or Daisy replied as they belted out of the lock-up, Daisy limping as fast as she could on her bad leg.

  Jackie flew after them, but Ollie’s hand held her back.

  ‘What you doing?’ Jackie stormed at her mate.

  ‘They need to do this on their own.’

  ‘Are you mental or something?’

  Ollie’s hand dropped away. ‘Can’t you see that they fancy the pants off each other? He’ll make sure that nothing happens to her.’

  Jackie pursed her lips, but didn’t head for the door.

  ‘As soon as we hear the police coming,’ Ollie said, ‘we get out of here as quickly as possible. If they catch us with these weapons we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.’

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Jo-Jo hummed as she entered her mum’s office. Her cheerful mood disappeared when she saw what her mum was doing. Back watching clips from Calamity Jane. Doris Day and Howard Keel, walking arm-in-arm, got into a stagecoach with a large banner that read ‘Just Hitched’. Stella’s husky voice filled the room as she sang along with Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickock singing ‘The Deadwood Stage’. Jo-Jo didn’t know what was happening to her mum, but she was acting like some of the people in that facility they’d put her in temporarily when she’d been a teenager. The one her mother had told her, ‘It’s them doctors that want treatment, love, not you’. Her mum’s empire was falling around her ears and all she wanted to do was watch the same film, over and over.

  Then she saw the gun that her mum fingered in her lap. A pistol with a silencer screwed on the front. ‘Are Daisy and Ricky here?’ Stella suddenly asked.

  ‘No, Mum.’

  Stella reared to her feet as she roared, ‘What do you mean they ain’t coming?’ She waved the gun in the air.

  Jo-Jo looked at the gun as a lump formed in her throat. Telling her mum bad news when she had a shooter in her hand was not a good move. And the bandaged half of her face added one hundred per cent to her dangerous look.

  ‘I got it all sorted out.’ Jo-Jo stepped closer to her mum. ‘Don’t worry, they’re getting what’s coming to them.’

  ‘What are you chatting on about?’<
br />
  Jo-Jo took her mum’s arm and gently led her back to the sofa. She plonked herself down beside Stella. ‘I got some mates to take care of them. They ain’t going to be troubling you anymore. You won’t believe it, but Billy gave me a hundred grand the other day to sod off, but I kept the money, Mum, to help you.’

  ‘I told you to bring their arses here.’

  ‘I know. But I took care of it. You just need to rest.’ Jo-Jo smiled. ‘I’m going to take care of you like I always do. You don’t need anyone but me.’ Her smile grew. ‘They’re all gone. It’s just me and you like it should be—’

  Stella’s hand whipped out, grabbing Jo-Jo’s shoulder and dragging her forward. Jo-Jo’s smile shot off her face as she stared into her mum’s menacing, steel gaze. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Stella’s voice was soft.

  ‘What?’ Jo-Jo tried to get out of her mum’s grip but couldn’t.

  ‘You planted that bomb in the car.’

  Jo-Jo tried to desperately wriggle free as her frantic words filled the room. ‘No, Mum. It weren’t—’

  Stella’s mouth twisted. ‘Don’t fucking lie to me. That’s why you wanted me to get into the second getaway car with you. To make sure I was safe, while the bomb got rid of everyone else. That way you’ve got Mummy all to yourself.’

  ‘But none of them deserved your love, not like me,’ Jo-Jo confessed, shouting, her words pumped with years of pent-up emotions. ‘You kicked me out and gave it all to them instead. It was me you should have been loving, not them, they’re scum and they always were but you couldn’t see it.’ Tears streamed down her face. ‘Look what you made me do.’ She reached for her trousers and rolled them up. Stella gasped as she saw the mass of criss-cross scars. ‘You’re my mum, mine. You should have put my name on the door not hers.’ Jo-Jo shook as she cried.