by Robert White
“I went in me bag for a condom and pulled out the bags of stuff at the same time by accident. One of them had come open and there was powder in me bag and some spilt on the table. Frankie told me to flush the lot down the toilet, but before I could, you lot burst into the room.”
“So, your little brother will tell us the same story then?” said the detective wearily.
Margaret leaned in. “You are not going to interview my four-year-old, sunshine, dream on, and anyways, he’s a bit on the slow side and wouldn’t remember… but I do, I remember clear as day. It’s exactly as Maisy said. She found them packets out in the street. I was there. I saw it with me own eyes.”
* * *
Det Ch Supt Alan Crocker sat looking at the transcript of Maisy Thomas’ interview with his head in his hands. Alongside it, was a sworn statement from Margaret Thomas relating to her youngest child Terrence, and how he’d miraculously found three bags of white powder in the street worth £240.
Then there was Frankie Verdie’s transcript, a pointless exercise, every question answered with “no comment”.
A forensics report stated that they had found two partial prints on the bags, neither useable in court, but both belonged to Verdi.
Sitting next to it all, was a copy of the Daily Mirror, and on pages three and four, James Dunn had the whole sordid tale laid out in pictures and sensationalised text. Maisy’s face had been pixelated, a new technique used by the press to hide the identity of juveniles or other persons the editor may deem too sensitive to publish. But Frankie was there in all his naked glory with only a cartoon carrot, carefully placed in shot, to hide his modesty and keep the Mirror from being hounded by Mary Whitehouse.
Sitting opposite Crocker was Assistant Chief Constable Peter Davies.
“This is a mess Alan,” said the senior man tapping the Mirror with a clean, clipped nail. “A bloody mess all round. What were you thinking?”
Crocker looked up, eyes bleary from lack of sleep. “I was thinking, sir, that we might just nail this bastard.”
“Except we haven’t nailed him, have we Alan? We haven’t even got enough to charge them with possession, and I’ve got the chief bellowing down the phone, wanting to know exactly how James Dunn of the Mirror happened to be present at the scene of the arrest.”
“He must have followed us sir,” said Crocker weakly.
The ACC exploded. “Fucking followed you! So, you, a senior detective, and two uniforms didn’t notice a little fat cockney and his sidekick carrying God knows how many cameras standing behind you as you entered the hotel room. For goodness sake… no, for your sake Alan, you need to do better than that. I would suggest that Verdi’s solicitors are rubbing their hands with glee as we speak, and Discipline and Complaints are already filling out your form fourteens to start your investigation. Get a grip Alan, and sort this mess out. Release them both ASAP and I want a full, and I mean full, report on my desk by this afternoon.”
* * *
Laurie Holland scanned the Mirror newspaper in disgust. She had long since given up hope of ever having a normal loving relationship with Frankie.
Even so, the newspaper article mentioned Laurie by name and even had a picture of her alongside the vile shots of Frankie straddling Maisy Thomas.
Eddie had been on the phone. He had it all in hand, not to worry, he’d said.
Laurie wasn’t worried. She didn’t care anymore.
Even so, she pondered how much longer she would have to tolerate being embarrassed and scared in equal measure.
Not long now she hoped. If Jamie’s appeal went well, he could be out within weeks. So, things had to happen quickly.
Laurie needed a new escape plan. An escape into the arms of Jamie Strange.
She had to ensure that she and Jamie could make a new life, a new start, away from Frankie Verdi, and away from The Three Dogs.
So far away, they could never be traced.
Australia maybe?
Frankie was a very rich man, getting richer by the day. Laurie had been just as instrumental in him accumulating that wealth as Eddie fucking Williams or Tony Thompson had ever been. Without her, Frankie would still be knocking out pizzas and selling eighths of resin on Moor Nook.
No.
No matter what happened now, she was not going to walk away empty-handed, and she didn’t mean that paltry five hundred a week she was putting away either. Jamie had told her he still loved her and everything was going to be just fine.
And Laurie believed him.
There would be no more exposés, no more murder, no more drugs. A real life, a real home, marriage, children.
She peeked out of her bedroom curtains.
They were still there, the press, all wanting a comment.
Laurie dropped the paper and checked herself in the full-length mirror. She wore a figure-hugging designer number she’d picked up with Frankie’s money in Manchester last month, red as claret, with matching killer heels. Her hair and make-up were perfect.
She trod the staircase to the front door, and opened it with a theatrical swish.
Instantly, the crowd gathered at the front gate began to shout questions, cameras clicked, flash guns flared. Laurie slowly trod the path to the main gates, swinging her hips, a big smile fixed on her face.
As she reached the amassed hacks, she stopped, held up a manicured finger and touched it to her ruby lips.
She waited.
Within seconds, every man stood silent in a mixture of apprehension and appreciation. One or two visibly held their mouths open.
“Thank you boys,” said Laurie huskily. “I’m so glad to see you all here, as I appear to be left alone in the house again.”
One caddish photographer shouted. “Make us a cuppa then love.”
Laurie smiled. “Don’t worry lads, I’ll bring out some tea and biscuits shortly, but first… who’s here from the Mirror?”
A short, portly middle-aged man stepped forward, leaning over the gate. “That will be me love, James Dunn.”
“Ah, yes James,” said Laurie, cocking her head to one side quizzically. “The crime reporter, right? So, you are the one who keeps putting my picture in the paper then?”
“That’s me,” said Dunn, eyeing Laurie up and down and feeling a great follow-up coming on.
Laurie pulled back her fist and slammed it into Dunn’s nose with everything she had. All her frustration, all her anger behind the blow. Dunn’s nose exploded, blood spurted in all directions. The reporter fell backwards, landing with a nasty slap on the pavement. The surrounding press looked on in shock, until the photographers, usually the first to react, began to snap the prostrate crime correspondent.
Laurie turned on her heels, then, looking over her shoulder, she said, “That’s what I call a slap in the face Mr Dunn. Now you know how I felt, reading your rag this morning.”
Once Laurie made it back to the house she made two calls; the first was to Walton Jail. The second was to her bank, to ensure they had an overseas office. She and Jamie would be needing an offshore account.
Her goals for the morning achieved, she wandered to the kitchen and began to make a tray of tea and biscuits.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As Laurie kept the press happy, Frankie Verdi sat drinking tea in Tony’s front room. Eddie munched on a sandwich, having rediscovered his appetite; Joe Madden abstained.
Tony checked Cheryl was out of earshot in the kitchen, closed the lounge door for good measure, and joined the meeting.
Frankie held up both palms.
“First off, I want to say sorry to you all for bringing us some heat.”
“Your dick will get us all banged up,” muttered Eddie.
Frankie’s back ached from lying in his cell. He was in no mood to be treated like a child. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, Fra
nk is sorry Eddie,” placated Tony. “Let’s not have another fall-out eh?”
Frankie arched his back and groaned. “Tony’s right, we need to stick together and just ride this little matter out. After all it’s my arse all over the papers, nobody else’s.”
Joe Madden managed to stifle a smile. “Have to say boss, that Maisy looked well fit in them pictures, you’d be hard pressed to say no to a piece of that.”
Eddie still wasn’t impressed. “There ain’t no bird worth going down for, and definitely not one that could interfere with our business. You need to keep your hands off Maisy, Frank… and no more fucking free charlie either. Keep it in your pants for a few weeks for fuck’s sake. Laurie’s stamping around the club like a wounded rhino. Women scorned are fucking dangerous animals Frank. You have to remember, with what she knows, she could bring us all down.”
Frankie waved a dismissive hand. “You let me worry about Laurie. She knows where her best interests are,” he prodded the table with his finger. “And that’s right here. She wouldn’t dare grass on me, or any of us. If she risked opening her mouth, she knows we’d find her, and what the consequences would be.”
Eddie sat back and folded his arms. “I’m just saying, keep an eye on her, that’s all.”
Frankie had heard enough. “Look, you take care of your little Dutch pal, and I’ll take care of Laurie. All she does is get pissed all night, and sleep it off all day. If she ain’t at the club, she’s at home or fucking shopping.”
Then Joe Madden dropped the bombshell. “She was in Walton nick the other week Frank.”
Verdi’s eyes burned into Joe Madden, his voice barely a whisper.
“What you say there, Joe?”
Joe squirmed in his seat, instantly regretting opening his mouth. “Well, not a hundred per cent like Frank, I mean…”
Verdi flew into an instant jealous rage, knocking over his tea. “Not one hundred per cent? Then what exactly do you mean then Joe? Fifty? Seventy? Was my Laurie in Walton nick… or fucking not?”
Joe hunched his shoulders. “Well… fuck me Frank… calm down will yer… Look, you know Billy Clayton? He’s doing a two-stretch in Walton for dumping all those dodgy chequebooks.”
Verdi’s face was contorted with temper. “What the fuck has that twat Billy Clayton got to do with my Laurie?”
“Nothing Frank, he ain’t got nothing to do with her exactly,” Joe chose his words carefully. “…’cept his missus, Sandra went to see him the other week, and she said, she swore she saw your Laurie there, visiting some mush.”
Verdi stood over Joe, fists clenched. “Some… mush? Who exactly Joe? Who was she visiting?”
Joe was getting worried. “I… I don’t know Frank, I never asked like.”
Frankie bawled at the top of his voice. “Then make it your fucking life’s work to find out, you fucking prick!”
The lounge door opened. Cheryl walked in carrying a bowl and a sponge, determined not to have a tea stain on her new carpets.
“I think I know who she went to see,” she said.
* * *
Harry Strange had ridden the train from Liverpool Lime Street into Preston Central. As he walked up the pedestrian ramp onto Fishergate, the sun was just dipping down behind the Railway pub.
Harry licked his lips.
It had been a long day, but well worth the trip. Jamie had received good news; his release date would coincide with Richard Valance’s new date, after his successful appeal against his manslaughter conviction.
Harry would have his son home before the end of the month.
Harry tripped into The Railway and ordered a Guinness. Friday nights were a lively affair in the main bar. Irish music played and a raucous crowd, who had settled in the area from across the water, threw pints down their necks like there was a drought. Preston boasted a large Catholic population, hence the name, a derivative of “Priest Town”, and The Railway’s clientele were notoriously sympathetic toward the PIRA.
Harry had fought the Irish, but held no grudge against them. However, had they known who his son was, he may not have been so welcome.
He settled in a corner with his back to the wall and a good view of the main door.
Old habits die hard.
Harry sipped his pint and, for the first time in a long time, felt good. He sat and planned the redecoration of Jamie’s room; a small surprise to welcome him home. His good feelings, however, were to be short-lived.
Before he was halfway down his drink, in walked Laurie Holland. It could have been sheer coincidence of course, but Harry didn’t believe in such things. The girl hadn’t left quite enough time, from watching him leave the station, to entering the pub.
Laurie wore a long-sleeved black dress, large dark glasses, and turned every head in the bar as she scanned the crowd. Finally, she spotted Harry and walked over.
“Hello Harry,” she said quietly. “Long time no see.”
Harry nodded. “Laurie,” was all he offered.
There was a flicker of a smile from the woman. “You look well.”
Again, Harry didn’t have a reply to the small talk. He waited for the real reason to arise. The reason that Laurie Holland was standing in front of him.
She tried again. “How’s Jamie?”
“You saw him a couple of weeks back didn’t you? He told me. What did you think?”
Laurie seemed surprised that Jamie had mentioned the visit. “Oh, well, yes, he looked good. He’s made a big lad eh?”
Harry shook his head. “Look Laurie, it was good of you to look the lad up after all this time, but you have to realise, that when a man is locked up like that, after all that has happened, he starts to read things into a visit that, well, that don’t really exist. Do you know what I mean?”
“No… no Harry I don’t.”
Harry put down his pint. “Well I do. And I also know there is something else going on here. So, let me put this to you. You rang the prison for another VO. As Jamie can only have one visit every seven days, they tell you Jamie is booked. Obviously, that visitor would be me. You figure that as I don’t own a car, I’ll take the train. You check the timetable against my visit time. You wait at the station for me to walk out, and see me drop in the pub for a beer. After five minutes, you follow me inside and pretend that it’s pure coincidence. Am I right?”
Laurie looked sheepish. “I suppose.”
“I know I am Laurie, this stuff was my world for years. Now, what I don’t know, is why you would do such a thing when you know where I live?”
Laurie removed her dark glasses to reveal two black eyes. “Because, I think Frankie may have me followed, and if he finds your house, you could be in danger.”
Harry took hold of Laurie’s chin and inspected her injuries. “Frankie did this?”
She nodded. Tears fell.
“Because you went to see Jamie?”
“Yes. And he knows Jamie’s getting out soon. I don’t know how he found out. I think someone in the prison is feeding him information. He’s obsessed with Jamie; always has been. I’m scared for him, and you Harry. For both of you.”
Harry sniffed and rolled his tongue over his teeth. Laurie had seen Jamie do exactly the same thing when he was angry.
“It’s not the first time Frank has tried to find my house, is it?”
Laurie shook her head.
Harry sniffed again. “There’s no wonder Frankie Verdi is obsessed with Jamie love, because deep down, so are you. I’d hazard you lie awake at night and wonder what life could have been like had you not chosen the path you are on. I’m right aren’t I? But, look, it’s of no consequence now…”
Laurie shook her head. “But it is Harry. It is of consequence, because Jamie and me are going to try again.”
Harry was open-mouthed. Jamie hadn’t mentioned this snippet of information, probably as
he didn’t want to hear Harry’s opinion on the matter.
Harry was incredulous.
“Try again? So, you’ve left Frankie?”
“I’m scared to leave, Harry. But I’m…”
Harry cocked his head, another Jamie trait, when he wasn’t all too sure he was being told the truth.
“Scared to leave the money too eh Laurie? You forget girl. I spent a long time in your company. I’ll be honest with you, because I’m an honest man. When you broke my son’s heart, I was glad. I was glad because he could never have lived up to your expectations. He could never have provided what you craved. I mean look at you now. Your sunglasses cost more than a marine’s weekly wage. You were his one true love Laurie. But you were unfaithful and ungrateful, you were nothing but trouble… and you still are.”
Harry drained his pint. “And now, well, it seems you have managed to drag us all down with you. You visit my son after all this time to raise his hopes. To raise his hopes and to gain his favour. I bet you told him you still loved him, didn’t you? But really all you need Jamie for, is to do your dirty work, and you’ll be off again. Off with the next bad guy with pots of money.
“You batted those lashes of yours, and he jumped, just as you knew he would. You know what he’ll do to Verdi, the first time he sees those bruises. He’s not even out of prison yet, and you are aiming to send him straight back there.”
Laurie was close to tears. She knew she deserved all Harry had to give, but she had to make him understand. “It isn’t like that Harry, I know what you’re thinking, but I made a mistake…”
Harry pointed. “No, Jamie made a mistake, ever getting with you in the first place. Now just do me one favour Laurie… leave him be eh?”
Laurie watched the old soldier stride out of the door. She wanted to say he was wrong, wanted to tell him that she really did love his son, but he wouldn’t believe her. Who could blame him after all she’d done? Harry wanted to protect his only kin, and that was understandable. Laurie wanted to protect him too, and Harry. That’s the reason she’d taken the beating. Somehow, Frankie had found out about the Walton visit and once again was desperate for Harry’s address.