Blood Sister: A thrilling and gritty crime drama

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  ‘I swear on my daughters’ lives that I never nicked his wife’s motor.’

  Jen switched the phone to her other ear in her agitation. ‘You leave my girls out of this. I told you what would happen if you started tea leafing again—’

  ‘But I didn’t do it.’

  ‘How many times, how many . . .’ She drew in a harsh breath realising she was shouting. In a quiet, but still furious tone, she continued, ‘You’re a complete ponce, that’s what you are. Always lying, never keeping your hands to yourself. Courtney and Little Bea were terrified out of their minds. I can’t be dealing with this anymore.’

  ‘Listen, Jen, I’m telling you straight up that John’s got it all wrong—’

  ‘John? What, don’t tell me you know this geezer.’ She played it like John Black had never told her about his previous association with her fella. She wanted Nuts to sweat.

  ‘It was years back. I did a bit of work for him. He owned that posh club I took you to the first night we met. Remember, that black bird who spilled a drink on me? Well she’s his missus now and a bit of a livewire.’

  ‘Oh, so not only do I have to look over my shoulder for some major league Face but also his crazy old girl. You’ve really put us in the shit now, you top wanker. Where are you?’

  ‘Scotland.’

  ‘Scotland? What the hell are you doing up there?’

  ‘Jen I needed to put as much distance as possible between me and John and Dee.’ He paused. ‘Maybe I should come back—?’

  ‘No, you can’t do that. I might think that you’re a complete and utter wally, but they’re going to do you if you set foot anyway near The Devil. That John Black really means business.’ She shuddered. ‘He said if he sees you you’re a dead man.’

  After Kevin had roughed her up and done things to her body she tried hard not to remember, a tear-stained Stacey contacted her mum about Jen’s appearance in the Old Swan. Her mum reassured her that she’d done good and the fifty was on its way for her next fix.

  Fifty-Three

  Dee spotted her mum at their usual table inside the small café tucked away behind Bank Station. They met there because it was out of the way and no one they knew was likely to notice them. Christina Aguilera’s ‘Beautiful’ played softly in the background.

  ‘You look awful, love,’ her mum said as soon as she sat down and pulled off her shades.

  Dee still wasn’t sure sometimes how she felt about this woman opposite her. Most of the time she was happy to see her, but there was still that piece of her, leftover from childhood, that couldn’t understand how a woman could give her infant away. You’re carrying a defenceless baby for nine months and then, just like that, you turn your back and go on your merry way. How could someone do that? That would be like Dee not giving an eff about what happened to Nicky when his dad disappeared. It just wasn’t natural – not natural at all. But this woman held some kind of control over her because, whatever she might think, it was Dee who just couldn’t turn her back and walk away.

  ‘Things are a bit bonkers at the mo,’ Dee answered.

  Her mum’s hand covered hers. ‘Tell me all about it; I’m a good listener.’

  So Dee told her about what had happened to Marilyn, but didn’t mention any names. ‘Mum I just want to go out there and find the fucker and choke him until he stops breathing.’

  Dee only knew that her voice had got louder when she caught the disapproving look of a woman – one of the two, smartly dressed city workers, seated at a table nearby.

  ‘What?’ she challenged the women. ‘What you looking at? You never seen a black woman before? And yeah, the woman sitting with me at my table is my mum and she’s white. You got something to say about it?’

  ‘Dee,’ her mum warned, trying to restrain her.

  But her daughter shook her head. ‘No, Mum,’ Dee waved her finger in the air once. ‘I’m fed up with this. I’ve worked my arse off to be able to come to a place like this and just have a cup of tea without two twats who look like Princess Margaret with a broom shoved up her rear end thinking they’ve got the right to cut their eyes at me.’ Dee leaned towards them: ‘Boo!’

  Both women rushed to their feet, left money on the table and were gone. Dee wasn’t surprised when the owner came over, a middle-aged man with a moustache like a matinee idol.

  ‘Ladies, I will have to—’

  Dee slapped a ton on the table, which had the man smiling and shuffling off.

  ‘You know what you need?’ her mum said softly. ‘You need a bit of prepping up. Something to make you feel better.’

  ‘The only way I’m feeling top of the morning again is when my Marilyn is back home.’

  Her mum smiled nervously. ‘Why don’t I come over tomorrow for lunch? We can have a girls’ afternoon in.’

  They were both silent because they knew that another line in their relationship would be potentially crossed. Dee had never been to her mum’s and her mum had never been to hers. John knew all about her and had no problem with meeting her mother; it was Dee who had the problem. Letting someone into your home was really personal. She didn’t know if she was ready to let her mum come through that door yet.

  ‘I’ve never met your fella or your boy, it would be good to finally see them.’

  There was such a yearning in her mum’s voice that Dee knew she wasn’t going to be able to say no.

  ‘Nicky’s my grandson, I’d be tickled to give him a hug.’ Dee had told her mother all about how Nicky had come into her life and that it didn’t matter that she hadn’t given birth to him; he was her son.

  ‘Alright,’ Dee finally decided slowly. ‘I’ll get a lovely, slap-up lunch sorted. But don’t think this means you can waltz into my house anytime you like.’

  Her mum covered her hand again. ‘I love you, Dee.’

  Dee looked at her sadly. ‘I just wish you’d been there to say that when I was a little girl.’

  The dirty pictures on the wall of the locker room in the garage didn’t even make Tiffany blink. Having porn pushed up in her face every day had narked her when she first came to work here as a teenager, but she’d long ago got used to working in an all-male workplace. They might as well have been snaps of Snow White for the effect they now had on her. She quickly put on her overalls, having just returned from a spot of lunch. For once she wasn’t pissed that she was working on a Saturday because her mind was consumed with thoughts of Dee Black’s motor. What she had allowed herself to get into still made her shudder. If John and Dee ever found out . . . No, they weren’t going to find out. They couldn’t find out. If they did, she was a goner for sure.

  As soon as she entered the work room, Big Ron – Richie’s eldest son or, in Tiffany’s books Tweedle Dumb Arse – crooked his finger her way, signalling for her to come over. Big Ron was in fact a small man with a bald head and a very big mouth, which he exercised way too frequently for Tiffany’s liking.

  ‘You heard about what went on with John Black’s missus’ ride?’

  Tiffany played it all innocent, shaking her head. She hadn’t let on to him or his brother that she was working for the Blacks. ‘Who’s John Black? Never heard of the geezer.’

  He gazed at her as if she were from a planet that hadn’t yet been discovered. ‘That’s Mister Black to you, girlie. Let’s just say he’s a bit of legend in these parts. Anyway, the story goes that some idiot nabbed his wife’s motor right from under his nose. Whoever the fool is, John’s gunning for them.’

  Tiffany couldn’t help but swallow. ‘What’s that got to do with me?’

  ‘If anyone tries to ship a classic Pirano FS in here during out of hours, you let me know.’

  Tiffany stuck her hands in her overall pockets. ‘Out of hours? Didn’t think you and Little Sam did any of that crap in here. That’s the first thing Richie told me when I came here: he says, I only do wheels that are above board.’

  She took some delight in seeing Big Ron’s face going beetroot red. He must think he was dealing wit
h a wanker if he thought she didn’t know about the secret, tax-free and highly illegal business he and his brother were also running.

  ‘’Course I didn’t mean us,’ he threw in quickly. ‘But this guy has got to be desperate because that motor is as hot as . . . as . . .’ Too dumb to even know how to finish his lame joke, Tiffany thought.

  She wanted to say, ‘As hot as your brain thinking, mate,’ but instead said, ‘As hot as Jennifer Lopez’s bum.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘yeah. Anyway, if you hear anything, Mum’s the word.’ He tapped a finger to the side of his nose, ‘And you come and tell Uncle Ron.’

  As she watched him walk away, Tiffany knew that she was going to be triple careful now that word was circulating on the street about Dee’s precious car.

  A shiny, black Merc with tinted windows pulled into the garage. Sensing a ready stream of good money, Big Ron rushed over to it as it came to a stop. One of the back doors opened and a huge beast of a man, wearing shades and a dark suit, got out.

  Big Ron flashed his teeth as Tiffany and the other mechanics watched. ‘How can I help—?’

  But the man interrupted in a deep voice. He pointed a large finger at Big Ron. ‘You, piss off.’ Tiffany’s boss stumbled back. The goon swivelled his finger until it fell on Tiffany. ‘You, in the car.’

  Tiffany lost all the colour in her face as she felt like that finger was a knife stabbing her through the heart. ‘You what?’ Her voice shook.

  His answer was to move his finger until it pointed at the opened door at the back of the car. Tiffany quickly looked around the room for help from her workmates, but it soon became clear from their downcast eyes – including Big Ron’s – that she was on her own. There was no point running; the beast and whoever else was in the Mercedes would be on her in a second. No one had to tell her she was wasting her breath asking any more questions.

  Gulping, she made her way to the car and with each step the man waiting beside it seemed to grow bigger and bigger. It wasn’t until she dipped to get inside that she realised another hulk was already seated in the back. Startled, Tiffany started to retreat, but it was too late, the beast used his body to propel her forward. And then the car sped off, with a shaking Tiffany sandwiched between two thugs in the back.

  Fifty-Four

  They took Tiffany to a place she hadn’t been to in ten years – the Pied Piper pub. Now it was a swanky wine bar with an Italian name that Tiffany couldn’t pronounce. They took her up the back stairs to the top of the building, shoved her inside a room and shut the door behind her. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw who waited inside – John and Dee. Both of them stood, John with his arms folded, Dee with a fag in her hand, either side of an open window.

  ‘Has something happened to Nicky?’ Tiffany asked.

  ‘It’s got quite a view from up here,’ John said instead of answering her question. But he didn’t look out of the window to admire it. When someone talked about the view from a top-floor window, Tiffany knew to be scared.

  ‘Mister Black, Mizz Dee, is there a problem?’ Other than I’ve got your motor, her mind screamed. Oh my God, I knew I shouldn’t have got involved in this. Shouldn’t have listened . . .

  Dee drew hard on her ciggie, and with smoke drifting out of her mouth and clouding her face, she said, ‘I was saying to John here that it would be a real shame if someone had a nasty accident, falling head first out of this window. But these things happen, don’t they?’

  Tiffany knew that the other woman was reminding her, loud and clear, about the time she’d told Dee about that geezer, years back, dangling her out of this same window. She suspected that Dee hadn’t told her husband about their past association because then she’d have to admit her part in the screw-up of John’s car ring. Tiffany knew she could blab to John, but no way was she doing that; she might be a lot of things but she weren’t no grass. Plus, she was up to her neck as much as Dee in putting the kybosh on John’s chop shop scam.

  The married couple didn’t move from the window but Dee got straight down to business. ‘What we’re trying to figure out is why you didn’t tell us that the dead man – and he will be annihilated when I get my hands on him – who pinched my Marilyn is your sister’s other half?’

  ‘You saw the name we fingered on that list when you came over and had a look,’ John swiftly joined in, ‘and yet you remained schtum. Didn’t say a dickie bird to either of us. Now, we’re thinking, why would someone who we let look after our boy, who we embraced into our family, treat us like a pair of two-bit mugs?’

  ‘And you must’ve known that your very-soon-to-be dead brother-in-law worked for my John back in the day.’ That shook Tiffany up and Dee could plainly see that. ‘He was a runner for John.’

  And was probably up to his lying neck in John Black’s car ring when I worked for mad Mickey Ingram, Tiffany quickly worked out. That’s probably why Nuts had been banged up when Jen was preggers with her eldest. Jen was too ashamed to tell Tiffany and her mum what he went down for and in respect to her feelings they never asked. Now she wished she had.

  She shook her head. ‘I never knew about any of that. Come on, leave it out. I would never—’

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ Dee shouted, lunging towards Tiffany; her husband grabbed her arm and she bounced back like an elastic band. Dee was steaming. ‘If you don’t answer the question in three seconds flat, I’m coming over there to rip your tits off.’

  Rip my tits off? I’d like to see you bloody well try. The old Tiffany came in the room. She’d been trapped in enough corners in her youth to remember how to get out of them by swinging her fists. She popped her hands brazenly on her hips, letting Dee know straight off that she was no pushover. ‘’Course I knew it was him.’

  The other two looked stunned; they hadn’t been expecting her to admit that. ‘So why did I keep my mouth zipped? I’ll tell you why. Because I hate that scumbag’s guts and didn’t want to have anything to do with any shit he might be up to his neck in.’

  ‘But you could’ve told us where to find him,’ Dee said. ‘You’re meant to be loyal to us. What you’ve done is rank, out-and-out betrayal.’

  ‘What? And bring you straight to my sister’s door?’ She stopped because she saw the truth on their faces. A chill instantly started cooling her blood. ‘Tell me you haven’t been to Jen’s?’ Their silence gave her the answer she didn’t want to hear. ‘My sister’s a good person; it isn’t her fault that the fella she hooked up with turned out to be the ponce from hell. All she wants is a quiet and decent life for her kids. What mother wouldn’t want that?’ She looked straight into Dee’s eyes. ‘That’s why you got me in to work with Nicky – because you want him to have a decent life too.’

  ‘But if you’d spoken up we could’ve maybe sorted this out a different way,’ Dee said, some of her anger disappearing.

  ‘I ain’t buying a word of it,’ John jumped in. ‘You know what I think? I think you’re involved in this, right up to your lying gob. There was no glass in the driveway, which means that someone left the keys in Dee’s motor. That someone was you Tiffany.’

  Tiffany mentally belted herself up for the hard ride she knew was coming. ‘And when would I have done that? As soon as I came back with Nicky, both of us came into the family room together and I didn’t leave. I was there with you when the car was taken. So you tell me, when was I supposed to nick Dee’s car key and leave it in the car?’

  Dee looked indignant. ‘You saying I left the keys behind?’

  Tiffany quickly shook her head again. ‘No. What I’m saying is that Nuts could’ve hotwired it—’

  ‘No way,’ Dee said. ‘As soon as I bought my Marilyn I got someone to sort her out so no one could tamper with her.’

  ‘Come on, Dee, Nuts is more nifty with his fingers than friggin’ Houdini. He might be a total moron but if there’s one thing he does know, it’s cars.’ She saw the doubt creep into Dee’s face and so pressed on. ‘You’ve got to believe me, I wouldn’t in a milli
on years help that scrote. As far as I’m concerned if you want to burn him at the stake I’ll bloody well light the fire for you. All I ask is that you leave my sister well out of this.’

  ‘We can do that, but all you’ve got to do is tell us where he is,’ Dee said.

  ‘Don’t you think if I knew where he was, I’d be telling you? I know that Jen hasn’t seen him because she would’ve let me know. No one has clapped eyes on him. He’s probably done a runner and scarpered out of London.’

  ‘Well, that’s a real shame that is,’ John said moving towards her.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tiffany could feel something bad coming.

  ‘By coming to my home where my son is and taking my wife’s motor, your whack job of a brother-in-law has involved my family.’

  ‘No,’ Tiffany let out desperately.

  John got right into her face. ‘If that car isn’t back in my driveway without a scratch on it by tomorrow evening you better tell Nuts that I’ll be coming after his family.’

  John’s heavies dumped Tiffany outside the first tube station they came to, but she was in such a state she didn’t even check which underground station it was. Once the car was out of sight, she desperately dragged out her Nokia.

  ‘We’re in deep shit . . . Just effing listen . . . You need to meet me now . . .’

  Fifty-Five

  Babs was buying some chocolate chip Cornettos for her grandkids in the twenty-four hour mini supermarket when she heard that slapper Mel Ingram’s voice carry over to her. She didn’t want a run in with the old trout so she remained hidden in the frozen food section until her number one enemy was gone. She recognised the voice of the person Mel was speaking to: Ryan Mallory, The Devil’s resident booze artist. Ryan would sell his own daughter (if she wasn’t tucked up in the care system, away from him) if it meant money for another bottle of the hard stuff.

  Mel didn’t sound happy at all. ‘I’ve already given you a score and I’m not giving you a penny more unless you’ve got something new to tell me, you piss head.’