Blood Daughter: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Three (Flesh and Blood series)

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  Tiffany whispered, ‘Shall I go and have a word with him Dee?’

  ‘No, leave it alone. I know Kieran, he’ll only blank ya and it’ll just cause more bovver.’

  Uncle Frank turned up in a Roller with his bodyguards. He pushed his way through the crowd to a prime spot by the grave, as befitted the man who had helped bring John up.

  The vicar said a few words. Dee was heavy with relief when the burial came to an end. She choked up when grieving friends and relatives were invited to use a gold trowel to throw some earth onto the coffin. There seemed to be no trouble when Kieran stepped forward to join the queue. When his turn came, Kieran stepped up, took the trowel and threw earth in. But instead of stepping aside, he took the roses he’d brought with him and began chucking them, one at a time, into the grave.

  This was too much for Uncle Frank. He shouted, ‘Get a move on. Who do you think you are – fucking Morrissey?’

  Kieran took no notice. There were quiet gasps that someone had the brass to ignore Uncle Frank in public and he himself decided he wasn’t having it. Elbowing people out of the way, the ageing but still handy man pushed through and shoved Kieran aside. Kieran threw the rest of the roses into the grave, clenched his fist and levelled a punch at Frank who fell backwards into the vicar. Frank’s bodyguards and associates piled in while a surprising number of the younger guys came forward to support Kieran. He picked up the gravedigger’s shovel and swung it at his attackers. Some of the plain clothed cops stepped forward to intervene but when they realised how badly outnumbered they were, they thought better of it. A horrified Dee watched as her husband’s send-off turned into a boozer brawl.

  ‘Pack it in! I said, fucking pack it in!’ she yelled. ‘Excuse my language vicar – fucking pack it in!’

  Dee had never shied away from a fight but as she tried to separate the warring groups, she found herself dodging fists and on the end of flying punches. A thin spray of liquid went across her face as she toppled over. She was lying on the ground and when she ran her finger across her wet cheek, she saw it was blood. Around her, mourners were fleeing the scene, criss-crossing tombstones in an effort to escape. Nearby she saw one man get hit, lose his footing on the earth and tumble into the open grave.

  She gritted her teeth. Enough was enough. She ran over to the tomb with the twenty-foot angel standing over it. She struggled and monkeyed her way up the statue until her head was touching its white stone cheek. She had a commanding view of the battle below. She drew breath and bellowed, ‘Show some fucking respect!’ so loudly that her voice seemed to come from the heavens above.

  In slow motion, the fighting below began to stop and men dusted off their suits and straightened their ties. The brawlers divided into small packs and moved off, swearing threats at each other. Several senior associates of Uncle Frank’s warned Kieran that he was a dead man. In the end, only the gravediggers, Tiffany, Nicky and Flo were left. Uncle Frank helped her down from her perch on the statue. Seething, he took the grieving widow firmly by the arm and frogmarched her away. And it turned out that it wasn’t to apologise.

  ‘Listen Dee, I don’t want to be unpleasant on today of all days but I’m afraid I’ve got a little problem. Shortly before Johnnie met his maker, he did a badness when he thieved some gold from a private vault that I had an interest in. I expect you heard about it?’

  Dee shivered in horror. So that’s what he’d been trying to tell her in the hospital.

  ‘I had to do something drastic to secure your future.’ She looked over at his grave. He’d promised. He’d fucking promised not to get involved again.

  ‘Cobblers,’ she said to Uncle Frank, ‘He had eff all to do with that job; he had a cast iron alibi.’

  Uncle Frank angled a hard stare at her. ‘Yes, well, Johnnie was always very good at arranging cast iron alibis and obviously I’m not suggesting he took the stuff himself.’ He gestured at the cemetery gates. ‘He got that little scrote Kieran Scott to do it for him. Now then, as long as I get my gold back pronto, we can keep the whole temperature on this unfortunate business down to a reasonable level. Where did John hide my gear?’

  ‘He didn’t do it.’

  Uncle Frank shook his head. ‘Maybe your grief has made you a bit deaf so I’ll try again. Where did Johnnie stash my gold?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea where any fucking gold is. Even if John did take it, he wasn’t gonna tell me, was he?’

  Uncle Frank nodded in agreement. ‘That’s possible. Alright then, let me suggest this. You have a word with your little friend Kieran and tell him to put my property where I can find it and I might – only might mind – decide to overlook his very disrespectful behaviour at the graveside.’

  Dee kissed her teeth dismissively. ‘I don’t have nuthin to do with Kieran. You’ve got this all arse over elbow. Ask around. John was out of the business.’

  Uncle Frank put his arm around Dee’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘Look Dee, truth is I’m finding the gold on behalf of the man who it belonged to. He’ll take down you, your kid, your mum, your sisters, your cat, Kieran and all his people to get what he wants.’ He pinched her cheek. ‘Put your thinking cap on and see if you can remember where Johnnie tucked away his winnings.’

  Forty-Four

  When they got back to the house Tiffany put a large drink down in front of Dee, a cocktail that was more Tequila than Slammer. ‘You get that down ya babe. Chill out. I’m gonna pop down the chippie and get us some fish. You look like you could use some downtime after that circus.’

  A shell-shocked Dee picked up her drink and sipped. With sadness she gazed down at the once beautiful dress that had been John’s pride and joy. It was torn, sequins hanging off it, some of the scarlet covered in dusty flakes of white stone. Tiffany‘s fury was growing. ‘What a disgraceful carry on. I can’t believe it. Kieran’s an animal.’

  Dee looked upwards with a sad smile. ‘Yeah, I know. And he’s not the only one. John always said he wanted to go out fighting. If he’s up there somewhere, he’ll probably be pissing himself laughing. I wish to fuck I was.’

  ‘Kieran’s a pig – and after you told him straight to stay away. He’s too big for his crocodile shoes that guy. Everyone’s saying it. If I was him, I’d watch my back.’ She picked up the car keys. ‘Do you need anything else? Fags, Rizlas or anything?’

  ‘No, you’re alright. I’m not sure I’m hungry either.’

  Her sister gave her a comforting pat on the back. ‘Course you are. They do a lovely bit of fish.’

  Dee gulped her drink. ‘Did Nicky come back?’

  Tiffany apologised for him. ‘I don’t think so. He was very upset and that bitch took him off.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘What about forty winks while I’m out?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  When Tiffany was gone, Dee trudged upstairs to try to take her sister’s advice but there was no sleep in her body. She hissed aloud, ‘You idiot John, you bloody fool, how could you? How could you? You promised me you were out and now I’ve got Uncle Frank and his psycho pal Carats on my case.’ Since Uncle Frank had declined to tell her the name of the bloke who owned the gold she’d christened him – Twenty-four Carats. Carats for short.

  ‘You’re not here to look after things. How am I gonna handle these blokes without you?’

  But there was no answer.

  The silence of the house was unnerving. No John. No Nicky. It took all Dee’s strength to lift herself up and make her slow way downstairs. The lounge had grown dark when she got back so she put on one of the sidelights near the fish tank and picked up a bottle of voddy.

  As she did so, out of habit she asked aloud, ‘Do you want something John?’

  From John’s old armchair, across the room, a voice answered, ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

  The bottle slid out of Dee’s hands and crashed on the floor. ‘Kieran? What the hell are you doing here? And what are you doing on my John’s throne?’ No one, absolutely no one, sat in John’s armchair.


  Kieran leaned forward so the light caught his face. ‘Sorry, I’ve shocked you. I should have knocked on the front door. But then you wouldn’t have let me in, would ya?’

  Her body was shaking, with rage or surprise she didn’t know. ‘How did you get in here?’

  ‘You left the French windows open. Careless. There’s a lot of crooks around, you know? Although with you being a grieving widow and that . . . understandable.’

  ‘Alright Kieran, you’ve had your bit of fun. Why don’t you piss off before I call the cops and have you arrested for breaking and entering?’

  ‘I don’t think you will, because then I’ll have to tell them what the nature of my visit is and I don’t think you’d like the consequences. For a start they’d have a JCB all over your lovely lawn, digging it up. After that, they’ll be in the house with claw hammers having your floorboards over. And you know what the law are like – they don’t tidy up after they’ve finished.’

  Uncle Frank had been telling the truth down the graveyard. John and Kieran had done that gold job. She picked up a mobile lying on the mantelpiece and waved it at him. ‘Perhaps you’d prefer it if I rang Uncle Frank and invited him over to have a word. As you saw at the cemetery, he’s not best pleased with you. He thinks you’ve got something that belongs to a mate of his. It might be a good idea if you gave it back before the violence starts.’

  Kieran shrugged. ‘Good. I’m glad we’ve got straight to the point. I agree with you actually. It would be a good idea if I gave it back. But there’s a problem. I ain’t got it.’

  Dee was horrified. ‘Who has then?’

  ‘I’m afraid John took the location to the grave. He wouldn’t tell me. I think he was planning to rip me off actually. But I don’t wanna speak ill of the dead so let’s put that to one side. I can’t deal with Uncle Frank and whoever he’s working for until I’ve got the gold back. So you need to tell me where it is and you need to tell me fast.’

  Dee felt her throat tightening. ‘I don’t know.’

  He eased slowly to his feet and moved towards her. When he reached her he ran the tip of his finger softly down her cheek. He moved his head close to her ear. ‘Remember how it used to be with us Dee?’ She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘How well we fit together.’ He inhaled her scent. ‘Makes me hard just thinking about it.’

  Calmly, but with as much steel as she could muster, Dee put him straight. ‘You better step away from me fella. If you don’t you won’t ever have the pleasure of getting hard again because I’m gonna make sure your nuts are yesterday’s news.’

  He turned the screws. ‘What would John say if he knew?’

  She gave him the once-over with contempt. ‘ ‘‘Satan masquerades as an angel of light.’’ That’s what Aunty said about my dad. And that’s you to a T Kieran.’ She gazed at him with scorn. ‘A man who would try and seduce the wife of his so-called good friend who’s still warm in his grave.’

  He stiffened as he stepped back. ‘I didn’t come here for a sermon . . .’

  ‘Then use the French windows and close them behind you.’

  ‘I’m warning you now, I need the gold back and if I have to apply a little pressure . . . You know me very well Dee and I won’t hesitate. I’m sure you understand, the stakes are too high for me to let personal feelings cloud my judgement.’

  The front door opened and Tiffany burst in on them, a smell of fish coming from the bag she was clutching. ‘Dee, there’s a motor outside, I’m sure it belongs to Kie—’ She stopped short when she saw the man himself. Her hand twitched like she was about to decorate him with chips. ‘Come to apologise for wrecking John’s funeral, have ya? You’re a disgrace.’

  ‘Did you ever sort out a loan to cover your debts? They were getting a bit hefty, weren’t they?’

  ‘Mind your own business, you nosy sod.’

  Kieran dismissed her like she was an annoying mutt and turned back to Dee. ‘When you find out what I need to know, gimme a bell. Oh, and you might want to think about getting your burglar alarm serviced and window locks checked. You can’t be too careful with your personal security these days.’

  Once he was gone Tiff wanted chapter and verse.

  ‘Remember that gold bullion job?’ Dee started. ‘Well, him and John pulled it off. Kieran did it and gave the gear to John to look after. Now he wants it back and he thinks I know where it is. I don’t. Uncle Frank’s trying to get it back for the bloke who it belonged to, any which way he can, you get me? This fella he’s working for sounds like a proper nut job.’

  Tiffany put their dinner on the table. ‘He’s a liar. And so is this Uncle Frank. Kieran’s not important enough to get into something like that with John or anyone else. He’s just an MC at a nightclub. He’s scamming you.’ When Dee said nothing, Tiffany begged, ‘He is scamming you, ain’t he?’

  Dee didn’t answer. She threw open the French windows. She stepped outside, looked up to the starry heavens and shouted, ‘I’ve got a wagonload of bad geezers after me now, thanks to you John. Are you still fucking laughing?’

  Forty-Five

  Dee was fretting after the umpteenth phone call she’d made to John’s close associates in an attempt to find out where he might’ve hidden the gold. Her theory was that whoever he was with last might be able to point her in the right direction. The problem was she couldn’t just come out with, ‘Do you know where my old man stashed some gold bars he thieved?’ She’d had to tread so carefully that some people thought she was still off her head with grief.

  Dee rubbed her tummy and looked at it with wonder. ‘What are we gonna do little one, eh? You haven’t even been born yet and there’s a world of trouble waiting for you.’

  The front door slammed. ‘That you Nicky?’

  He hadn’t come home last night. A son leaving his mum during her hour of grief was bang out of order as far as she was concerned, but she could see that the boy was taking John’s death hard.

  The only reply she got was quick-moving footsteps on the stairs. Calling his name again she left the room and then hesitated at the bottom of the staircase. He’d better not have brought that woman with him, because so help me God . . .

  She marched up the stairs with an energy she hadn’t felt for ages. As she neared his closed door she heard bumping and groaning sounds. Bloody hell, him and that witch had better not be having it away in her house. With indignation she threw the door open but there was no sign of Flo or a love nest. Instead his bed was covered with CDs and 12” records, and he was rummaging around in his wardrobe. He didn’t seem to notice that Dee was in the room.

  She sat down on the corner of his bed with relief. ‘Going back to college are you? That’s welcome news.’

  He turned and gazed at her with a wary expression. ‘Oh hello Mum – nah, I’m um, you know.’

  ‘No. I don’t know.’

  He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. ‘I’m moving in with Flo – alright?’ He raised his hand when her face contorted with fury. ‘Yeah, I know what you’re gonna say . . .’

  Dee rose to her full height. She was tired, grief-stricken and shaken to the core by the events at the cemetery but she had to try. ‘And you think that the day after we put your dad to rest would be a good time to move out and leave your old mum on her own? How can you think of leaving me at a time like this?’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that,’ he shot at her. Suddenly his breathing shuddered. ‘I can’t do it Mum.’

  Hearing his voice become so small Dee realised something was badly wrong. ‘Do what?’

  ‘Stay here. He’s everywhere. In the bar, the gym, in his true crime book collection in the lounge, in the garage munching junk food behind your back.’ His drawn eyes pleaded with her. ‘John’s the second dad I’ve lost and I’m not even twenty years old.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘All I want is some space to get my shit together.’

  He started stuffing his belongings into the sports bag. Dee shook with his revelation. When had her boy grown up and bec
ome so wise? She didn’t try to stop him. But still, going to that bitch Flo’s didn’t sit well with her. ‘Can’t you go to one of your mates’?’

  He picked up his bag and turned back to her. ‘I know you don’t like her and I get why, but she’s a laugh and I need a little laughter in my life now.’

  Five minutes later she watched him load his gear into Flo’s motor. Then he came back and sheepishly gave Dee a peck on her chilly cheek. ‘I’m only a mobile away,’ he tried to reassure her, ‘and if you can’t get me on it give Flo’s granddad a call. I’ve written down his number and left it on the bed.’

  Then he was off like a burglar. As soon as the door slammed, for the first time since John’s death Dee felt totally alone.

  Flo gritted her teeth. It was either that or deck Nicky one as as she drove them to her granddad’s. He wouldn’t shut up about his dad as he belched skunk smoke inside the car. How much he missed him, how close they were . . . It was almost sending her over the edge because it was bringing back sweet memories of her time with her own father. And it was breaking her heart all over again.

  Suddenly she was no longer in the car with Nicky, her mind transported back to three years ago when her dad had taken her to see the houses in Mile End. His houses.

  ‘What do you think of your clever dad now, my little Florence?’ he’d asked proudly as they stood in the first reception room of number 10 Bancroft Square.

  She’d stared in wide-eyed awe around the room, not because it was a knockout – she was used to the splendour of her granddad’s houses – but because Stanley was always giving her little surprises. He’d never breathed a word to her about this house.

  ‘Do these belong to you Pops?’

  He’d chomped on his cigar and smiled mischeviously. ‘Now that would be telling.’ He’d tapped a finger to the side of his nose. Then his expression had grown serious. ‘Always hold your cards close to your chest. Never show your ace until you know for sure you’re gonna be the winner . . .’