“Oh, that’s terrible,” said Rose. “So disrespectful of your home.”
“You should kick the pair of them out,” barked Agatha. “My Warren wouldn’t dare behave like that. He does the hoovering and washing up and he washes his own clothes.”
“I suppose I’ve only myself to blame,” said Ginny. “I was too soft on them when they were younger.”
“You should throw them out, like Agatha said,” interjected Mary. “Look at Rose’s Caleb. He’s been living alone in his own flat for a few months and he’s still alive. He hasn’t broken his arm trying to make the bed or cut off a finger while cooking.”
“You should see his flat,” chuckled Rose. “I don’t think he’s once tried making the bed.”
Mary leaned in to whisper in Rose’s ear. “If looks could kill.”
“Sorry dear?”
“Carol. She hasn’t stopped glaring at you since you walked in.”
Rose looked back at Carol, who was still staring at her.
“She’s got a screw loose that one,” said Mary. “It’s where her son gets it from.”
“I’m afraid she’s taking the feud between Vance and Alfie out on me.”
“Don’t you worry Rose love,” said Agatha, turning in her seat to glare at Carol. “Everyone likes you a lot more than her. You’ve got all our support if she starts getting nasty.”
“I don’t think she will,” said Rose with her twinkly smile. “She’ll behave.”
“Oh yes?” said Agatha. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure.”
Rose was relieved when the next game began and the conversation was dropped. A mutinous groan filled the room when Agatha won again.
“How on earth are you doing that?” Mary demanded of her.
“It’s just my lucky day,” she smiled, ignoring the muttered curses and scowls of the other players. She turned to look at the rest of the room. “Anyone got a problem?” she called out.
As Agatha intimidated most of the women who came to the bingo hall, no one said anything outright, although all their beady eyes remained locked on her as she claimed another winning voucher.
Rose sat out the next game and went up to the small café bar at the back of the room on the pretext of wanting a cup of tea when she saw the very person she wanted to speak to. Sally-Ann’s son worked for Faith doing the less than legal jobs.
“Hi Sally-Ann,” said Rose, standing behind her in the queue.
“Rose,” she replied, turning to her with a smile. “Lovely to see you. How are you?”
“I’m grand thanks. You?”
“Very good. My Bob got his early retirement and a very nice pay off, so we’re buying that bungalow in Freckleton.”
“That’s wonderful news, I’m so happy for you, although it will be sad that we won’t get to see you as much.”
“Freckleton’s only ten miles away. I’ll still come back for visits.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she smiled. “What do your children think of you moving away from the town?”
“Well, Jennifer’s a little upset, we’re very close but I think Patrick’s pleased because he’ll be staying in our house.”
“You’re not selling up?”
“No. It needs some modernising before selling and he’s going to do all the work so he can stay there rent-free. When it’s finished he said he might buy it off us, at a reduced rate of course.”
“Of course.”
“He doesn’t want to say goodbye to his childhood home,” said Sally-Ann, eyes twinkling with fondness. “And he’s enjoying working for your family.”
Rose smiled inwardly. She hadn’t even needed to steer the topic of conversation in that direction. Sally-Ann had done it for her. “I’m glad to hear that. They’re very pleased to have him working for them. Faith did say what an asset he is.” She’d never said any such thing. In fact Faith thought Patrick Prentiss was rather lacking in brains, suitable only for the donkey work but telling Sally-Ann that wouldn’t get her anywhere.
“Oh, I am glad. He’s got a chance of a real future with them, thankfully because he couldn’t earn the money he gets paid any other way. I love my son dearly but Stephen Hawking he is not.”
“So he’s still enjoying his work?”
“Yes, he loves it. He says it’s never dull and keeps him on his toes. In fact, he’s been given some extra responsibility.”
“He has?”
“Faith didn’t mention it?”
“No but my daughter is rather a closed book.”
“Yes, I suppose she has to be.”
Despite what their children thought, all their mothers knew exactly what business they were involved in but, as it had made all their lives much more comfortable, they weren’t complaining. They’d surprised themselves with that attitude but not worrying about how they were going to put food on the table or pay the mortgage was a huge relief after years of struggle.
Sally-Ann glanced around before continuing. “Well, he’s been selected as part of a special team.”
“Special team?”
“Patrick told me not to say anything but I suppose it would be all right telling you seeing how he works for your children. He’s been selected to guard the famous vault.”
“The vault?” she said, genuinely puzzled.
“Oh, I see what you mean,” winked Sally-Ann, tapping the side of her nose. “You don’t want to say it out loud. I completely understand. But he’s working in it now.”
“Okay,” said Rose slowly. She had no idea what the vault was but, judging by its name, it was used to store something valuable. Could it be that what had been stolen from her children had been kept inside it? She forced the approving smile Sally-Ann was obviously expecting. “That’s wonderful dear.”
“Isn’t it. He’s being paid much more money, he’s been splashing it about like there’s no tomorrow. He even bought me a beautiful new watch,” she said, holding out her arm to show Rose.
“It’s lovely. He must have good taste.”
“Oh, he does, in some things anyway. Not women. You should see some of the little tarts he’s brought home. One wore a skirt so short it looked like a belt and she had tattoos on her thighs.”
“Shocking,” said Rose, finding it amusing that Sally-Ann found tattoos disgraceful but didn’t mind that her son was dealing drugs. It was just another of the strange disconnects she’d observed in people - outraged by something rather mild while not minding the more serious stuff. It seemed to be a growing symptom of modern society. She was rather glad she was in the twilight of her life. She wouldn’t want to be young in this backwards world.
“I was appalled I can tell you,” added Sally-Ann.
“Is he still with the girl?”
“No. She was just one in a long line.”
“He’s only young, he’ll settle down eventually.”
“None of your children have found anyone have they, except Abi?”
“She and Michael have just got engaged,” said Rose proudly. “They’re planning a spring wedding.”
“Lovely. Give them my congratulations.”
“I will but sadly none of my other children have found a partner. It’s been difficult for Vance being locked up in prison for something he didn’t do. I wish Faith would settle down but she seems to be too fond of her independence.”
“I can’t blame her for that. It’s the modern way. In our day it was expected you would marry but women these days have so many other options.” Sally-Ann’s wistful sigh indicated she wished she’d had other options.
“I suppose it is.”
“And she has so much on her hands with her businesses to run. She mustn’t have a moment to herself.”
“It’s only one nightclub and one restaurant,” retorted Rose a little sniffily. “But I take your point.”
Rose was handed her cup of tea and made her way back to her friends. It seemed that was all the information she was go
ing to get from Sally-Ann and she didn’t know if it was important or not but she would pass it on to her children. Hopefully it would help them.
CHAPTER 8
Matthew dragged his hands down his face as Snappy McMichaels smirked at him. Sometimes he found it very hard keeping his hands off prisoners. He’d love nothing more than to punch Snappy right in his smug ferret face but that wouldn’t help anyone, especially not himself. He’d quizzed Snappy for two hours and had got precisely nowhere.
“Interview suspended,” he said before getting to his feet and stomping out, leaving Snappy to smirk, his equally smug solicitor sat beside him.
“How’s it going Sir?” said Warner, who was waiting outside the door.
“Not good,” sighed Matthew. “I haven’t managed to get anything coherent out of him. If I was after a load of drivel about his bad back and the weather I’d be laughing.”
“Oh dear. Has he tried to bite you again?”
“No. That’s something I suppose and how can he afford that slimy git of a solicitor? He charges a fortune and Snappy’s on benefits. It always boggles my mind that these creeps, who are supposed to be skint, can afford the best.”
“He must have some income he hasn’t declared Sir.”
“You think?” he barked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. It’s been a crappy day.”
“Snappy does have a reputation for letting rip when his temper’s up. He runs his mouth off and he can’t stop himself.”
“What are you saying?”
“I heard that he caught his girlfriend in bed with – get this – his own father.”
“What?”
“Mental, isn’t it?” he grinned.
“What did he do to them?”
“Nothing because his dad’s even more of a headcase than he is. You could casually drop it into the conversation. It’ll send him over the edge.”
“Good idea. Want to sit in and watch the fun?”
“Yes please.”
“Come on,” he said, pushing open the door of the interview room.
Snappy was still grinning, revealing those vicious teeth and Matthew hoped what he was about to say wouldn’t lead to them sinking into his flesh.
“So Mr McMichaels,” began Matthew. “When was the last time you saw your dad?”
His grin dropped and his left eye twitched. “Why are you asking about him?”
“You and your dad have always been as thick as thieves. If you were responsible for what happened to Dillon then it’s possible he was involved too. You’re a chip off the old block, aren’t you Snappy?”
“I am not like him,” he hissed, drool starting to drip from his lips in strings, a sure sign he was agitated. His solicitor regarded him with disgust and inched his chair away from him.
“Course you are,” pressed Matthew as Snappy’s eyes became wilder and slowly filled with mania, as though all the crazy in his head was overflowing and pouring into them. “Everyone says so, two peas in a pod.” A slow smile spread across Matthew’s face. “How’s your girlfriend? Kandi, is it?”
With a screech, Snappy launched himself across the table but Matthew leapt out of the way of his gnashing teeth. Warner however was too slow and Snappy’s mouth clamped down on his left forearm, making him scream with pain. After hitting the alarm on the wall, Matthew tried to pull him off his colleague but he was unable to. The solicitor flung himself into a corner of the room, holding his briefcase out before him like a shield.
“Close your eyes,” Matthew told Warner, pulling the pepper spray from his belt.
Warner obeyed and Matthew sprayed Snappy full in the face. It was his turn to scream and he fell to the floor with his hands over his eyes.
The door erupted open and three uniformed officers ran in and came to a halt, looking from the squealing Snappy to the bleeding Warner.
“All right, calm down,” Matthew told Snappy. “You’ll be fine.”
“The bastard drew blood,” exclaimed Warner.
“You were too slow,” replied Matthew. “Take him to A&E,” he told one of the constables. “Not him,” he added when he walked over to Snappy. “Our doctor can see to him but Warner will probably need stitches and rabies shots.”
“Oh, ha ha,” groaned Warner, slowly getting to his feet.
“And charge him with assaulting a police officer. Again,” he added, indicating Snappy.
While Snappy and Warner were being attended to, Matthew took one of his detective constables and headed out to see Snappy’s dad. They found him at home. He looked just like his son with his bald head, creepy gaze and pointed, ferrety chin but he was taller and flabbier. He answered the door with a can of lager in one hand, burping and scratching his stomach with his free hand.
“What?” was his greeting.
“Mr Neil McMichaels,” said Matthew, producing his warrant card. “I’m DI Young and this is my colleague, DC Tunstall. Could we have a word please Sir?”
“If you want in here you need a search warrant,” snarled Neil.
“We’re not here to perform a search Sir. We need to speak to you about your son.”
Neil rolled his eyes. “What’s the daft git done now?”
“He’s being questioned about the murder of Dillon Enfield.”
Neil threw back his head and laughed. The sound was deep and hearty and surprisingly pleasant. Matthew thought it would have been more at home on Santa.
“May I ask what’s so amusing?” said Matthew, eyes narrowing.
“It’s hilarious that you think that wanker’s capable of killing anyone.”
“He threatened to kill Dillon a few days before he died.”
“Snappy threatens to kill someone every day. I thought your lot would have learnt to ignore it by now.”
“We can’t ignore it when your son threatens to kill someone and then they’re murdered.”
“Look,” said Neil with a smile that indicated he thought he was talking to a particularly backwards child. “My son likes biting people. Actually scratch that, he bloody loves it. He enjoys a good scrap too but murder, no. He hasn’t got the bottle.”
“He just bit a police officer during an interview.”
“Doesn’t make him a killer. I know what you’re going to say – he carries a knife. What you probably don’t know is that he’s fucking useless with it. He’s injured himself with it plenty of times but he hasn’t managed to hurt anyone else. I knew Dillon personally. He was a bit of a dick but he was handy, if clumsy, and he could have held his own against my son. Snappy didn’t do this and if he bit one of your officers than that’s their own bad luck. Now, if we’re done here, I’m getting back to watching the match,” he said before slamming the door shut in their faces.
“He had a point, don’t you think?” Matthew told Tunstall as they got back in the car.
“What do you mean Sir?” he replied.
“If Snappy had attacked Dillon there would have been signs of a fight.”
“What about the bruises on his body?”
“He’d taken a kicking but there were no defence wounds. The post-mortem showed that beating happened somewhere else before he was killed. Dillon didn’t put a fight. He was taken by surprise and those closest to him said he wasn’t the type to take walks in parks. He went there to meet someone he trusted. He wouldn’t have met up with Snappy alone in a park at night.”
“So, if it wasn’t Snappy, who was it?”
“If you can tell me that I’ll buy you a pint every day for a month.”
“Hello dears,” called Rose as she walked through her front door. She smiled at the sight of Jason and Kevin sprawled on the sofas, watching television. The only two of her children who hadn’t flown the nest.
“Mum,” said Jason with a yawn. “How was bingo?”
“I didn’t win. Agatha won practically every game. I left when the other women surrounded her and started yelling. They’re convinced she’s cheating.”
“How do you cheat at bingo?” frowned Kevin.
“I mean, someone shouts out a number and you mark it off.”
“They think she’s in league with Ernest, the bingo caller. They were accusing her of using her feminine wiles on him.”
Both men burst out laughing.
“She doesn’t have any feminine wiles,” said Kevin. “She’s like Putin in a corduroy skirt.”
“And Ernest is eighty seven,” replied Rose. “It’s remarkable he’s still able to do his job. I certainly don’t think he’s up to doing…that with Agatha,” she said prudishly. “But I did find out something very interesting.”
“Oh yeah?” said Jason with another yawn, gaze on the television.
“From Sally-Ann. Her son Patrick works for you.”
“Yeah, he does. What about him?”
“He told his mother that he’s been given a lot more responsibility lately and that he was chosen to guard the vault.”
This had them both sitting up and taking notice.
“You what?” said Kevin. “Is that the word he used, the vault?”
“Well, I couldn’t say he did but Sally-Ann certainly did. Why, has he been telling fibs?”
“No Mum. He’s been telling great big porkies covered in jangly bells.”
“You mean he hasn’t been guarding this vault, whatever it is?”
“No he bloody well hasn’t.”
“Oh dear. He’s been lying to his own mother. That’s so sad. But Sally-Ann did say he’s had a lot more money lately and he’s been rather lavish with it. She showed me the watch he bought her and it looked very expensive.”
Jason and Kevin looked at each other and leapt to their feet.
“We’ve got to go out,” said Jason. “We’ll see you later.”
“Do you want me to keep some tea warm for you boys?” she asked, following them into the hall, watching as they shoved their feet into their shoes and pulled on their jackets.
“No thanks Mum,” said Kevin. “We might be out late.”
“Was my information useful then?”
“Very,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You’re the best.”
“Thank you sweetheart,” she smiled. “See you later and be careful.”
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