Ruthless Girl: An absolutely gripping, gritty crime thriller

by Emma Tallon

  ‘Ethan!’ Vince suddenly shouted. Freddie paused and Vince swung around, his eyes wide and intense. He crossed the room and sat back down next to Freddie, leaning in and pulling him towards him. ‘It’s all dealt with, Freddie,’ he said in a low, urgent tone, glancing back over his shoulder towards the closed door. ‘It’s done.’

  ‘What’s done?’ Freddie asked with a frown.

  ‘Her. Jules. She’s gone. Dealt with.’ Vince’s hands clutched at Freddie’s forearms and squeezed tighter and tighter. Freddie closed his eyes momentarily as Vince finally confirmed what he had suspected for some time. ‘I couldn’t have her do you over for all that money. She’d have been back for more too, and after how she treated the little mite… Nah.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘She had to be dealt with.’

  ‘You had her killed,’ Freddie confirmed quietly.

  ‘Did it myself. Some things you have to make sure they’re done right,’ Vince replied. ‘The cheque went to the wind and the car, sad to say, to the bottom of a lake. That had to be done,’ he added apologetically. ‘But she can’t come back to you now. And more importantly, she can’t ever come back for your boy. He’s yours. Yours and Anna’s.’

  Freddie nodded sombrely and gripped Vince’s hands, gently removing his fingers from his arm. He bit his lip as he tried to find some words, but couldn’t. Jules had been a waster, a terribly abusive and neglectful mother and someone who had played the game to fleece him for a lot of money. But much as he’d hated her for all of those things, he still hadn’t wanted to see her dead. Because he knew one day he’d have to look into his son’s eyes and answer some hard questions. He’d long suspected that she was dead, and that Vince may have had a hand in it. When her cheque was never cashed and he never heard anything from her again it seemed the most logical explanation. But until now he had been able to claim genuine ignorance. That was no longer a luxury he could be grateful for. Not now he knew for sure. He couldn’t thank Vince for it, for killing the mother of his child, but he couldn’t blame him for it either. Not after all she had done. In the end he decided it was best just to say nothing.

  ‘You know, I could do with a drink,’ he said, eventually.

  Vince got to his feet. ‘Where are my manners?’ he asked, slapping his forehead and releasing Freddie’s arm. ‘Here you are come to see me and I haven’t even offered you a drink. What can I get you? There ain’t much on offer. Tight bastards don’t allow me anything stronger than PG bloody Tips,’ he repeated with a humourless chortle.

  Freddie looked down at his watch, suddenly desperate to be out of this room with its dark secrets and cruel disease that had stripped his friend of his clarity. ‘I’m sorry, Vince, I’ve just seen the time. I’ve got to get going.’

  ‘Oh, of course, of course,’ Vince replied. ‘Business don’t sleep. Go on, get off. You’ve got an empire to run, my son. Where you off to first?’

  ‘Just to the gym. Seamus has a couple of guys…’

  ‘Jim!’ Vince interrupted, his face turning hard. ‘Jim Martin.’

  ‘Yes?’ Freddie paused, his hopes rising.

  Vince began to shake his head violently from side to side as he tried to hold on to the flash of clarity that had crossed his mind. ‘No. You don’t listen to him, boy,’ he warned, pointing a finger at Freddie. ‘You don’t… You just don’t… He’s gone now.’ His expression changed, his eyes turning glassy for a moment before his face cleared into a more resolute expression. ‘He won’t be talking to no one for a long fucking time, not now. He’s taken the rap for Tom Long’s death, full confession.’

  ‘He did, Vince, but he’s out now,’ Freddie said gently. ‘What happened between him and my parents?’

  ‘Your parents?’ Vince frowned, confused. ‘He’s gone. No one will ever hear him now, the fucking ponce. And he better hope I forget his name down the line too. Or I’ll be sending him further into hell than prison next time, I tell ya.’ Vince huffed and turned on his heel, pacing for a few moments before stopping to stare out the window.

  Freddie waited for him to continue but he didn’t, seemingly lost in thought. ‘Vince?’ he prompted.

  Vince turned and stared at him. ‘Sorry, what was I saying?’

  ‘About Jim Martin,’ Freddie replied, holding his breath in the hope Vince was still on the same page.

  ‘Jim Martin?’ He frowned in confusion and Freddie’s heart dropped.

  There would be nothing more to glean from Vince today. Perhaps next time, if he managed to catch him on a clearer day. Forcing a smile, Freddie reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small bottle of whisky. ‘Hey, I snuck you in a bottle of your favourite.’

  ‘Oh, you fucking diamond,’ Vince said, his smile broadening from ear to ear. ‘I can’t wait to get some of that down me. Eh, hide it somewhere, will ya? The staff are a little bit cunty. They never let me keep any of the good stuff in here. There’s a spot behind the bookcase look, over there.’ He pointed.

  Freddie walked over. ‘Yeah I remember, this is where we put the last lot…’ He trailed off as he pulled the bookcase forward and found the last bottle he’d snuck in, still full and with the seal intact. He slipped the new bottle back into his pocket and closed his eyes with sadness as once again the evil of the disease that had gripped his friend’s mind hit him with full force.

  Pushing the bookcase back, he stood up and gave Vince a swift hug. ‘I’ll catch you soon. Text me if you need anything, yeah?’

  ‘Will do. Go on, get on with ya,’ Vince replied, waving goodbye as Freddie went.

  Walking back down the hallway, Freddie ripped off the visitor lanyard irritably. Now he knew that although Jim had taken the fall for Big Dom and Vince, he definitely hadn’t been in their good books. He just didn’t know why, and that made things even more frustrating. What was Jim hiding? What had he done all those years ago to make the faces he’d gone down for hate him so much? And what exactly about this guy was spooking his mother?

  Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Freddie typed out a quick text to the man.

  Meet me at the club tomorrow night after closing. Need to discuss some things.

  As he hit send his jaw formed a hard line. It was time to solve the puzzle, one way or another.

  Thirty-Eight

  Josephine ran her thumb across the butter knife to collect the excess jam still glistening and popped it in her mouth, savouring the fruity burst of flavour. Dumping the knife in the sink she picked up the plate of peanut butter and jam sandwiches and took them over to the couch, where she dropped into a comfy position in the corner. She smiled as she took her first bite. It had been ages since she had made one of these. It used to be her go-to food to cheer herself up when she was down, but somewhere along the way she’d forgotten to do simple things like that. As she’d lain in bed the night before, worrying yet again at the state of her world, she had made the decision to start looking after herself again, to start making herself smile. After all, no one else was going to.

  The window was open, letting in a cool breeze, and she could just hear the low buzz of the lunchtime activities on the street below over the music playing through her radio. Taking another bite, she nodded, giving herself a mental pat on the back for choosing blueberry jam over strawberry.

  It wasn’t like she thought a good sandwich was going to take away the stress she was under or the grief and guilt that ran like a silent river underneath her skin on a constant basis. Josephine wasn’t naïve enough to believe that. But it was a step in the right direction. If she could build up enough little moments in her life that brought genuine contentment or happiness, maybe eventually she could find a comfortable balance. Maybe she could even one day put everything behind her. She needed to believe that; needed the positivity of that thought to help her carry on in a forward direction.

  Sophia had upset her more than she had initially realised. Her degrading words, the way she had belittled the life Josephine had fought so hard to build for herself had been crushi
ng. She had suffered cruel prejudice before, many times, in her old life. Ignorant biting words, taunts and even harsh beatings from people who couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just be the man whose body she had been born into. But that had been a long time ago. The memories never left, but they had become nothing more than a thing of the past. Here, in Soho, she was fully accepted for who she really was. She was liked for her unique personality and flamboyance, and as her self-confidence had grown it had been celebrated. To see such nastiness in Sophia’s sneering face had been a sharp reminder that not everyone in this world was so forward-thinking and accepting. It was a reminder too that there would always be a Sophia, even when this nightmare was over. Or rather, if this nightmare was ever over. They still had no idea what Sophia’s next move was going to be or what her overall plan was.

  Josephine took another bite of her sandwich and stared out the window. The song on the radio came to an end and the sharp jangle that indicated the local news was starting took over. The dull, serious tone of the newsreader filled the small room and Josephine began to tune out. As she turned to pick up her phone to find something more interesting, her ears pricked up in interest. The name of a road – she was sure she had heard it before. She frowned and tilted her head to listen.

  ‘… which was set to become a block of flats later this year came down in what was described as a catastrophic accident. No one was hurt at the time with all contractors accounted for, and a few weeks on, the site was given the green light to be cleared. However, this morning, as workers reached some of the deeper levels within the rubble, parts of a crushed human skull was discovered, putting a stop to the clearance and reopening the initial investigation into exactly what happened the night the building came down. Our correspondent Hannah Jackson reports.’

  ‘Yes, hi, Claire. It’s been a busy morning at the site. The police have arrived in force and have cordoned off the area. Forensics have been coming in and out in full suits as they search underneath the rubble. The workers on site are being interviewed and although there has been no comment from the police as yet, it would appear that the possibility of foul play has not been ruled out…’

  Josephine felt the blood drain from her face and her jaw dropped in shock as she realised what they were talking about. They had found Aleksei. The events of that night jumped out of her mind and seemed to play out once more in front of her eyes.

  She ran, Aleksei caught her and they fell to the floor. His hands tightened around her neck and she picked up the rock.

  The rock. Would her DNA be on it?

  Aleksei’s blood trickling out as she smashed the rock over his head. His hands tightening harder when this didn’t stop him. The loud, reverberating bang as Anna fired the gun, and the slump of Aleksei’s dead body on top of her. Blood, so much blood going everywhere.

  Josephine began to shake, the sandwich dropping from her hand and the plate to the floor with a clatter. They had found him. Or part of him.

  Did they already know it was him? Could they tell he had been murdered? Were they on their way over now to arrest her?

  Standing up suddenly as fright overwhelmed her, Josephine rushed into the bedroom to throw some clothes on, the mess on the floor completely forgotten. There was no time to lose, she had to go and find Anna and Tanya immediately. And now, more than ever, she couldn’t afford to risk discussing it over the phone. They could already be listening. They could already be watching and waiting for an opportunity to trip them all up.

  Josephine paused and shivered despite the warmth of the day, as she realised with certainty that if they were taken in for questioning, she would be the first to crack. It would be her who let them down, she knew it. Her emotions were fragile already, it would only take one savvy person to manipulate her and she’d end up a blubbering mess. She’d screw up, forget the story she was supposed to stick to, incriminate them all. And that was not acceptable in their world. When she tripped up – and it was when, rather than if now – not only would she be sending them all to jail, she’d be signing her own death warrant.

  Thirty-Nine

  Anna sat staring at her phone, leaning forward on her elbows, one hand over her mouth, half covering the sombre expression on her face. Things were starting to fall apart. Now that they’d found a portion of Aleksei’s skull, it wouldn’t be long before they found the rest of him and most likely the bullet from the gun she had used to shoot him. The silver lining was that this alone couldn’t be traced back to her. Even if they traced the bullet back to a type of gun, or even to the specific gun itself, it had been one of Aleksei’s own illegal imports that Freddie had taken from him. At best, the police would end up going full circle, pointing the finger back at Aleksei’s own firm for the shooting, if the bullet was all they had to go on. And the gun would never be found, no matter how hard they looked. It had been meticulously cleaned, weighted and dropped to the bottom of the Thames one cloudy night. No one would ever be able to uncover it from that deep, murky grave. It would lie there for eternity, holding its secrets close.

  But of course it wasn’t just the gun that could expose them. If their DNA was still floating around and was found, that would place them at the scene with no plausible reason. They had no connections to the site.

  Anna rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes, trying to think the situation over from an emotional distance. There was a fairly good chance that their DNA could go undiscovered, even with forensics combing the place. What had been a half-erected building when they were there was now nothing more than rubble following the series of explosions that had brought it down. She had to give Aleksei his due, he had known what he was doing when he rigged the place to blow. And Anna knew from carefully hidden research that the chances of them finding their DNA in burnt rubble were fairly slim. If they had bled all over the place then maybe it would have been a different story, but they’d barely even touched anything in the short time they had been there.

  She took a deep breath and sat up straight, trying to focus on this logic. If they were lucky, they might just get through this. If they were lucky.

  There was a sharp tap on the door and it opened. Sarah Riley walked in with her eyebrows raised in question. It wasn’t often she got a call from Anna, let alone one that sounded so urgent.

  ‘Hey. What’s up?’ she asked, cutting straight to the point. Sarah had never been one for meaningless small talk.

  Anna forced a smile and offered Sarah the seat opposite her. ‘Drink?’ she asked.

  ‘No thanks, I can’t stay long. What was it you needed to talk about?’

  ‘No problem, I’ll cut straight to it then,’ Anna said, lacing her fingers together on the desk between them. ‘The building site where they found that skull. It’s in your area, if I’m not mistaken. Are you on that case?’

  ‘I can be…’ Sarah answered slowly. ‘The team is still being worked out. Why?’

  ‘The skull belongs to Aleksei Ivanov,’ Anna replied.

  Sarah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Of all the things she had expected to hear today, this had definitely not been one of them. ‘Right,’ she said eventually. ‘And how do you know that?’ She frowned. ‘No one knew where he went, you’ve had guys searching for him for months.’

  Anna swallowed. ‘Sophia told us,’ she answered calmly. ‘How she knows, I have no idea.’ She shrugged dismissively. ‘But it was one of the first things she told Freddie when she came looking to partner up on the gun-running.’ It wasn’t a lie.

  Sarah watched Anna hawkishly. She hadn’t spent so many years climbing the ranks in the police force for nothing. She picked up on things that no one else would notice. Things that gave people away. It was why she was so good at interrogations. Micro movements and changes in bearing revealed so much more than people ever realised. And although Anna had a good poker face, even she couldn’t defy Sarah’s years of experience and training. Anna’s smile was confident and welcoming, casual too, as though she was in complete control of everything aroun
d her. But her body language said otherwise. She sat back in the chair and watching the other woman with curiosity.

  ‘OK,’ she said slowly. ‘And why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do with that?’

  Anna stared levelly at Sarah across the desk, her red lips forming a resolute line. ‘I want you to bury it. I want you to make sure that he is never identified and that this gets put in the cold case files as soon as possible.’

  Sarah’s frown deepened. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ Anna glanced at a small picture of herself and Freddie which she kept on her desk, ‘we need to protect Freddie and Paul. You know as well as I do that Hargreaves is looking for any way to lock them back up again.’ She moved her gaze up to meet Sarah’s again. ‘This is too close to home. If they find out that it’s Aleksei – the man who moved in on Soho the second the Tyler brothers were banged up – who’s buried beneath the rubble, they will immediately start looking in their direction. Partner that with the fact that Tanya and I then secured Aleksei’s club at a very reasonable rate the second he disappeared, and our links to Freddie and Paul, they’re going to have the beginnings of a case.’

  Anna paused to let it all sink in, realising herself that all she was saying was true. It may not be her real motive, but it was still valid.

  Sarah nodded. ‘That’s true. But you know that burying a murder case isn’t exactly that easy. This isn’t slipping a stray parking ticket into the bin, this has made the news. People will want answers.’

  ‘Who do we have on payroll at the morgue?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Melrose, but I’m not sure how that would help.’

  Anna bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Could he swap the skull out for one from a John Doe?’ she asked.