The Traitor

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘Come back ’ere, you stupid bitch,’ he screamed, when he saw Frankie run off in the opposite direction.

  Holding his shoulder, Jed immediately forgot about his pain and broke into a sprint. Frankie was dicing with death. Once he caught her, he might just kill her for the amount of grief she’d caused him.

  Stanley was sitting in Pat the Pigeon’s conservatory sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Her house was small, smart, clean and homely and Stanley had just chosen a squab, which he’d arranged to collect the following week.

  ‘She’s a real beauty, ain’t she, Pat? I’ve already got a small cock to keep her company,’ Stanley said seriously.

  Pat the Pigeon burst out laughing and when Stanley realised the error of his wording, his face turned the colour of beetroot. Noticing this, Pat diplomatically changed the subject.

  ‘So what you gonna call her then, Stanley?’

  Stanley smiled. He was bowled over by Pat’s kindness.

  ‘She has a pretty face, just like the lady that bred her, so, if you don’t mind, I thought I’d call her Patricia, after you.’

  Pat felt herself come over all sentimental. She had been very lonely ever since her husband, Vic, had died. She had known as soon as she looked at Stanley that he had that very rare, special something about him.

  ‘Tell me about Joyce, your wife. Is your marriage a happy one?’

  Stanley sighed. He didn’t like speaking badly of Joyce to people he barely knew, but he felt as though he had known Pat for years.

  ‘Joycie’s a difficult woman to understand at times. She’s always been very materialistic, whereas I’m not and we don’t have a great deal in common, to be honest. Our daughter Jessica’s death brought us closer together for a short time, but over the past couple of years we’ve drifted apart again. Joycie is very set in her ways and she’s always made me feel that I’m not good enough for her.’

  ‘Oh, my God! That’s awful, Stanley. I didn’t know you’d lost your daughter. What happened to her?’

  Stanley’s eyes welled up. ‘It’s a long story, but to cut it short, she got murdered by her villainous bastard of a husband. It was Joyce that encouraged our Jessica to marry him in the first place; I was totally against their relationship all along. And do you know the thing that Joycie did that hurt me the most, Pat?’

  ‘Go on, you can talk to me about anything, Stanley.’

  ‘She accepted the house that we now live in from the bastard that murdered her. It was obviously compensation for our daughter’s death. Blood money, I call it, and I’ll never forgive my Joycie for that.’

  Pat moved across the room, sat next to Stanley and hugged him tenderly. ‘If you ever need a friend or a shoulder to cry on, you know where to come,’ she told him.

  Stanley smiled at her and as their lips brushed, he quickly snapped back to reality. He immediately stood up. In all the years he had been married to Joycie, he had never so much as looked at another woman and he was too old to start all that philandering malarkey now. He hadn’t tried his bits and bobs out for years and he probably wouldn’t be able to stand to attention, anyway.

  ‘I’d best be going now, Pat. Thanks for the chat and the coffee. I’ll pop back and pick up the squab next Saturday, if that’s OK?’

  Pat nodded and stood up to see Stanley out. ‘Look after yourself and remember, if you ever need to talk, just knock on my door.’

  Stanley smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you, Pat. I truly appreciate your kindness and it’s been a pleasure meeting you, my love.’

  Back in Wickford, Jed had just caught up with Frankie. He’d clumped her and was now marching her back to the trailer with his hand clasped around her neck.

  ‘What you gonna do to me? Can’t we just sort this out like adults?’ Frankie pleaded.

  ‘Shut it, you dinlo,’ Jed said, as he roughly shoved her inside their once happy home.

  Sammy was awake now, but was still concussed and confused. ‘What happened? I can’t remember anything,’ he said weakly.

  Jed ordered Frankie to sit on the sofa. He helped his cousin up and sat him on the bed. ‘Stay ’ere while I deal with Frankie,’ he told him.

  Fearing for her life, Frankie crept over to the kitchen drawer. She took out the bread knife, crept back to the sofa and hid it between two of the cushions. Jed had already punched her hard and had also hurt her neck, but she wouldn’t allow herself to think of the pain. Her children were all that mattered now.

  Jed left Sammy lying on the bed and sauntered towards Frankie. He had no real intention of killing her – all he wanted was custody of the kids – but if she didn’t agree, he would have to consider his options. He had once loved Frankie, but if she fucked him about, she would get her just desserts. He sat down next to her and spoke to her in a deceptively calm voice.

  ‘I can’t believe that you were gonna do a runner with my kids. Now, if you wanna leave me, fine, but I want custody, Frankie. So what’s your decision?’

  Frankie looked at him with hatred. She could barely believe that Jed was responsible for the murder of her grandfather, but she knew it was true, she had the proof inside her handbag.

  ‘You will never have custody of them kids. You’re evil and I know all your fucking secrets,’ she spat.

  Jed laughed. It was a nasty sadistic laugh. He grabbed her by the shoulders, pushed her onto the sofa and straddled her.

  ‘So what do you know, then? Come on, spit it out, clever clogs.’

  ‘I know all about you and that Sally and I know plenty of other stuff.’

  ‘One of your dinlo mates been telling tales on me again, have they?’ Jed hissed.

  Frankie flinched as he tried to kiss her. ‘Get off me, you bastard!’ she screamed.

  Jed chuckled. The silly bitch obviously thought he was going to rape her, but he had no intention of doing so. Compared to Sally, she was a shit fuck anyway.

  ‘So, where’s your slag of a friend took my chavvies?’ he asked her.

  ‘Somewhere where you won’t find ’em.’

  Getting annoyed by Frankie’s lack of co-operation, Jed put his hands around her throat and gently squeezed her windpipe with his thumbs.

  ‘Tell me where the kids are, or you’re fucking dead meat.’

  Frankie felt a fire in her belly that she hadn’t felt for years. Unable to stop herself, she gobbed in his face. ‘I would rather be killed than you get your hands on them kids,’ she croaked.

  Jed wiped the spit off his face with his T-shirt. He stood up and paced up and down the trailer. The stupid fucking bitch was making life extremely difficult for herself, but he wasn’t sure that he could personally kill her. He stormed into the bedroom and shook Sammy to wake him up a bit.

  ‘I might need you to do away with Frankie for me. I can’t do it,’ he whispered.

  Sammy clutched his sore head. He felt too ill to do away with a wasp, let alone Frankie. ‘I can’t do it, Jed, not today I can’t.’

  Frankie put her hand between the two cushions, picked up the knife and her handbag. She had to get out of here and it was now or never. She crept towards the trailer door and opened it. As Jed ran out of the bedroom, she clutched the knife in both hands and pointed it towards his stomach.

  ‘Touch me and I’ll kill you,’ she said boldly.

  Jed laughed. ‘Put the knife down, Frankie, you dinlo.’

  Frankie shook her head. Suddenly, she had no fear, just a desire for revenge.

  ‘I know what you did to my grandad and I’m gonna tell the police everything,’ she said, edging towards him.

  Jed was stunned. How could she know about Harry Mitchell? Apart from him and Sammy, no one knew.

  ‘You’re talking rubbish. Now, just drop the knife, Frankie.’

  Shaking her head, Frankie held the knife firmly in her grasp. She had a demonic look on her face, a look that worried Jed immensely.

  Sensing Jed’s fear as he backed away from her, Frankie started to laugh. ‘The boot’s on the other foot now, ain’t it,
Jed? Did you do this to my poor old grandad, did ya? Did you terrorise him before you killed him?’

  ‘I dunno what you’re talking about. You’re mental,’ Jed said in denial.

  Frankie sneered at him. ‘Tell me the truth, else I’m gonna fucking kill ya.’

  ‘I didn’t touch your grandad, honest I didn’t.’

  Frankie took a deep breath. She knew she was ready to stab the bastard and before he died, she wanted him to know how clever she was.

  ‘I recorded you and Sammy talking in the motor, you mug. I’ve got all the evidence on tape and I’m going to the police with it. Always thought you was the genius, didn’t you, Jed? But you ain’t now, ’cause I’ve beat you hands down.’

  Jed stared at Frankie’s handbag. Chances were, if she was telling the truth, which was probable, the evidence that could put him away for life was inside that poxy bag of hers. Determined not to let Frankie get one over on him, Jed darted to his right and made a grab for her handbag.

  ‘I hate you, you cunt, I fucking despise you,’ Frankie screamed, as she pulled back the knife and plunged it deep into his guts.

  Having had no luck with her earlier phone call, Kerry was now inside the police station. She had rung the Old Bill as soon as she’d got to her sister’s house, but they hadn’t believed the seriousness of her allegations.

  ‘We’ll get someone over to Wickford as soon as possible. We’re very busy at the moment; there has been a multiple pileup along the A127,’ the policewoman said. Kerry was furious. The stupid woman obviously thought it was just another domestic.

  As the person in front of her came out of the reception area, Kerry rushed into the small room. There had been four people in front of her and waiting her turn patiently hadn’t been easy.

  ‘Please help me. My friend’s life is in danger and I know that her boyfriend is a lunatic.’

  The copper looked at the distraught young girl and instantly believed her.

  ‘What’s the address? I’ll send someone over there immediately,’ he said.

  Sammy was now as alert as he could be. He did not know that Frankie had actually stabbed Jed, but was aware that she knew he and Jed had killed Harry Mitchell.

  As Jed lay on the floor, looking like death warmed up, Frankie stared at him with a vicious look on her face. The colour had drained from his skin, he looked as white as a ghost, but she knew he wasn’t dead yet. Determined to finish the job off, she pulled the knife out of his stomach and plunged it in again.

  ‘Die, you bastard. Fucking die!’ she yelled.

  Sammy crept over to the bedroom door. He had heard Jed mention the tape and the handbag and he knew he had to get his hands on it.

  Frankie didn’t hear Sammy open the bedroom door. In her frenzied frame of mind, she had sort of forgotten he was even there. As Frankie stood over Jed, Sammy crept up behind her and grabbed her in a headlock. He gasped when he saw the blood on Jed’s T-shirt and his deathly white face.

  ‘What have you done to him, you stupid bitch?’ he whispered.

  ‘I’ve stabbed the bastard and I hope he dies a painful death,’ Frankie replied calmly.

  In a weird sort of trance, Frankie allowed Sammy to take the knife out of her hand. Her job was done; Jed would very soon be dead.

  ‘The police will be here soon,’ she said in an expressionless voice.

  Sammy bent down and took the horse-box keys out of the pocket of Jed’s jeans. He stood up and pointed the knife at Frankie.

  ‘Give me your handbag,’ he demanded.

  Frankie clung on to her bag for dear life. ‘Get away from me!’ she screamed, moving backwards.

  Jed looked as if he was dying, but Sammy couldn’t call an ambulance before he got rid of that tape. Using all the strength he had left, he punched Frankie as hard as he could in the face. She fell backwards, hit the ground and, as she did so, Sammy grabbed the bag and ran.

  Frankie held on to the sofa for support and hauled herself up. Without the tape there was no evidence and she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t given her bag to Kerry earlier. She staggered outside the trailer.

  ‘Give me my bag back,’ she screamed, as she tried to stop Sammy from driving away. She stood in front of the horse-box waving her arms. ‘Please just give me my handbag,’ she wept. She was distraught now, totally inconsolable.

  Aware of sirens in the distance, Sammy reversed back and drove away. He avoided running over Frankie, but only by a few inches.

  Frankie laid on the ground and sobbed her heart out. Visions of when she and Jed had first met flooded through her muddled mind. She remembered their first kiss, their first date in Cambridgeshire and the day she had lost her virginity to him. She even remembered the time when he had proposed to her in the car park of a pub.

  ‘You bastard. You fucking traitor,’ she screamed hysterically.

  Overcome by grief, Frankie knelt on all fours and pummelled the grass with her fists. She could hear a police car approaching and she knew she was in serious trouble. Without the tape there was no evidence and she would probably be sent to prison, but as long as Jed was dead and couldn’t get custody of the kids, she didn’t really care.

  Kerry sat nervously in the back of the police car. Because Frankie lived in a field in the middle of nowhere, the police didn’t have a clue how to find the place, so Kerry had agreed to accompany them. She hadn’t told the Old Bill that she’d been at the trailer earlier. If she was carted off for questioning, there would be nobody to look after the children and keep them safe.

  The kids had still been hysterical when she had left them at her sister Joanne’s house. Her mum was on her way over to help calm them down.

  ‘Slow down, it’s just down the road here on the right,’ Kerry said nervously. She was dreading what she might find when they got there. Say Sammy was dead. She might get life and never see her boys again.

  As the copper turned right, Kerry immediately spotted Frankie kneeling on the grass. She leaped out of the police car and ran over to her.

  ‘Are you OK? Where’s Jed? What’s happened? Is Sammy still alive?’

  Frankie looked at her with an unusual, vacant expression. ‘Sammy’s OK, he drove off, but I think Jed’s dead.’

  As Frankie began rocking to and fro, Kerry took her shivering body into her arms.

  ‘What do you mean, Frankie? What happened to Jed?’

  Frankie began to snigger, then her snigger turned into a manic laugh.

  ‘I stabbed him. I think I killed him. He’s evil, and I had to get him away from my kids. I’ve no regrets, Jed deserved to die, but say nothing to the Old Bill, Kerry, and I mean nothing. There’s no point now, Sammy took the tape with him.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Unaware that his daughter had just been carted off to an Essex police station, Eddie Mitchell was on top form in a West End restaurant. He clicked his fingers at the short, dark-haired foreign waiter with the moustache.

  ‘Oi, Manuel, bring us another bottle of champagne over, mate.’

  Gina giggled and playfully punched Eddie. The waiter really did look like the one out of Fawlty Towers, but instead of sharing the joke between themselves, Eddie had to go that extra mile.

  ‘You’ll get us bloody barred in a minute,’ she scolded him.

  Ed held his hands up. ‘I know nothing,’ he said in a mock foreign accent.

  Raymond and Polly both burst out laughing. They were like love’s young dream at the moment because Polly had just received confirmation that she was eight weeks pregnant – hence today’s celebration.

  Eddie winked at Raymond as ‘Manuel’ topped up their glasses.

  ‘So, have you told Joycie and Stanley the good news yet?’

  Raymond squeezed Polly’s hand. ‘No. We haven’t even told Polly’s mum and dad. We’re desperate not to tempt fate after waiting so long, so we’re gonna get the twelve-week scan out the way before we make any big announcements.’

  Eddie tutted with annoyance as his phone started
ringing again. He’d told Gary and Ricky that he was busy today and they were making a fucking nuisance of themselves as per usual.

  ‘Answer it, Ed, it might be urgent,’ Raymond advised him.

  Eddie snatched the phone off the table. ‘This had better be important, Gal. What the fuck do you want?’

  Gary was not in the best of moods. Stevens, the bent cop they had on their payroll, had contacted him earlier with some disturbing news and he was pissed off that his father had been ignoring his phone calls.

  ‘Why ain’t you been answering your poxy phone? It is bastard well important! Our Frankie’s been arrested. From what I can gather, she’s stuck a knife through Jed.’

  DI Blyth was shocked as she walked into the interview room and came face to face with Frankie. Gone was the pretty girl she remembered from her father’s court case and in its place was a bedraggled, pregnant woman with a vacant expression on her face. She had been furious with Frankie for making her a laughing stock at Eddie Mitchell’s trial, but one look at the state of the girl now told her to let bygones be bygones.

  ‘Hello, Frankie. I’m DI Blyth, do you remember me?’

  Frankie stared at her and nodded.

  ‘That’s good. Now I’ve just been speaking to DC Burkinshaw, who tells me that you have refused legal advice and want to start the interview now. I’d rather you didn’t do that, Frankie, because in the long run, it could prove beneficial to you to have a solicitor present. You are allowed one phone call. Have you used that privilege yet?’

  ‘Yes, my friend Kerry is the only person I want to speak to. She isn’t at home right now, so can I call her again later?’

  DI Blyth nodded. ‘What about the legal advice, Frankie? We have a duty solicitor who is happy to represent you.’

  Frankie smiled and shook her head. ‘No thank you, I really don’t need one. I’ve already told everybody the truth. It was me that stabbed Jed and I hope the bastard dies a slow, painful death.’