by Jack Gatland
Regardless of what she’d told Declan, the last thing Anjli wanted to do was walk around her own stomping grounds though, so after sending a quick text message she made her way down the Roman Road, eastwards to the Angel & Crown Pub. It had a white and blue frontage, freshly painted because of new owners, and had received a complete overhaul in design. Anjli liked it, but felt a little wistful for the older look, the one she’d grown up with, with battered red (previously green) paint on the outside walls and half the letters stolen or torn off. It was a real ‘spit and sawdust’ pub; a term used for pubs that used to place sawdust on the floors of their public bars to soak up the inevitable beer (when they really meant blood) that would fall, and a few years earlier had received the notorious reputation of one of the ‘worst pubs in London’, with the then Landlord selling up and leaving after complaints. Now it was more of a gentrified gastro pub, though with a stronger community feel to it. Which, although fitting with Bethnal Green’s gentrification, still felt a little out of place for Globe Town.
The inside had also received a spruce up; they'd painted the walls with white and blue to match the outside, the wooden bar had been stripped and sanded and rather than hard wooden benches, you could instead sit in a comfy leather sofa. Ordering a lemonade, a gin and tonic and a large red wine, Anjli found a place by the window and sat down, waiting. She knew that this was once one of the main meeting spots for Johnny or Jackie Lucas, and she hoped that by picking it, she would gain some kind of nostalgic interest from them. The text she’d sent was to an old friend who now worked next to the boxing club, suggesting that they meet for a drink. She hoped that the message would get through to the right destination and, sure enough, ten minutes later the door to the bar opened and Johnny Lucas walked in, immediately wrinkling his nose. He saw Anjli and walked over.
‘This better be important,’ he said, sitting beside her on the sofa. ‘I haven’t been in here since… Well, let’s just say in a while.’
‘You should,’ Anjli took a sip of her lemonade. ‘You could do with a bit of gentrification too.’
‘Sass, DS Kapoor? From you?’ Johnny raised an eyebrow. ‘Someone in as much debt to me shouldn’t throw sass.’
‘I paid my debt to you a long time back, Johnny,’ Anjli snapped. ‘You’re the only one who seems to think I owe you anything. I’ve been nothing but grateful.’
‘And yet here you sit, calling me like a lapdog.’ Johnny leaned back into the sofa. ‘This is comfy. You shouldn’t feel comfy in here. Not with the history this place has.’ He looked to the two drinks. ‘For me?’
‘Wasn’t sure whether I’d be meeting you or Jackie, so I bought both,’ Anjli explained. Johnny took the gin and tonic, sipping it as he watched her.
‘Is this about Walsh?’
Anjli nodded. ‘Kind of. I have some information for you on him, but I need some from you.’
Johnny thought this over. ‘Depends on the ask,’ he said.
‘Danny Martin.’
‘Ahh,’ Johnny nodded slowly, finally realising why they were meeting. ‘I saw the news last night. The body was Angela?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know who did it? News said there was a suspect.’
‘There is, but he didn’t do it.’
Johnny leaned in closer. ‘So tell me who did,’ he whispered.
Anjli considered her options. ‘There’s a lot going on here,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you, but in the questions I ask, you might get an idea on how things work here.’
‘I think you’re forgetting how things work,’ Johnny snapped. ‘How is your mum doing these days?’
‘Better,’ Anjli bit back another response. ‘Thanks to you, Mister Lucas.’
‘That’s better.’ Johnny settled back into the chair. ‘Doesn’t hurt to be a little respectful, does it? Ask me your questions, then.’ He smiled as a thought occurred to him. ‘But how will you explain to little Declan how you got the answers?’
Anjli ignored the jibe. ‘Did Danny ever deal with other gangs? The Seven Sisters, perhaps?’
‘Oh. So, it was Janelle?’
‘No,’ Anjli shook her head. ‘But we’ve heard that Angela was spending time with Janelle’s son Moses.’
‘That surprises me,’ Johnny mused. ‘I thought Moses played for the other team. Lots of secret meetings with young blonds, if you know what I mean.’
Anjli mentally noted this. ‘Did Danny deal with the sisters on your behalf at all?’
‘Not that I recall,’ Johnny mused. ‘We had our run-ins with them, usually around Dalston and either side of the A10. Really hard to work out postal codes there, you know?’
‘So you had a turf war?’
‘More a turf disagreement,’ Johnny admitted. ‘Nothing serious, though. A few broken limbs, bust up faces. No deaths.’
‘What about Derek Salmon?’ Anjli asked. ‘Did Danny ever deal with him?’
This was a question that Johnny Lucas wasn’t expecting. ‘DI Salmon? What’s he got to do with this?’
‘He’s a person of interest.’
‘Investigating plod now? Shame on you.’ Johnny thought for a moment. ‘That said, he’s retired now, isn’t he? Suppose he’s fair game.’
He steepled his fingers together as he thought for a moment, taking in a possible new piece of information. Anjli decided not to give him the time to think too much on it.
‘Was he on your books?’
‘My books?’ Johnny almost chuckled at this.
‘Did he work for you? Like Ford did.’
‘You mean like you do?’
Anjli bristled at this. ‘I’ve already said, Mister Lucas, I help you because you helped my mum. I don’t owe you and I sure as hell don’t work for you like DCI Ford did.’
‘Sure,’ Johnny said mockingly. ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night. Let’s just say we had the occasional shared interest, but he never worked for me as such.’
Anjli didn’t reply to this, writing in her notepad. Johnny’s eyes twinkled in delight.
‘So why would you think he worked for anyone?’ he asked. ‘Has DI Salmon been a naughty boy?’
Realising she’d given too much away, Anjli tried to change the subject. ‘What do you know about Macca Byrne?’
‘Birmingham thug,’ Johnny hissed. ‘Lowest scum out there. His Dad used to be a total gent back in the day, though. Well, until he wasn’t, that is. We sent out feelers to work with him, to do some joint campaigns, so to speak, and it was all going swimmingly, but then he poached a couple of my best men so I cut all ties.’ His voice was darkening now, becoming more guttural, more angry. Anjli knew what this meant.
Jackie Lucas was coming.
‘Best men?’
‘Yeah. Bloody George Byrne made Chapman an offer he couldn’t refuse. Bastard slipped out of Dalston with a couple of his hangers on that night, never to return.’ There was a fire behind his eyes now, and Anjli knew that possibly the worst thing in the world that she could do right now was remind this psychotic gangster that someone had once betrayed him.
‘Look, you’re busy, and I’ve taken your time up,’ she said, rising quickly. ‘I’ll leave you to things.’
‘Wait.’ Johnny’s tone was sharp and commanding. ‘I answered your questions. You owe me information on Walsh.’
Anjli nodded, feeling sick to her stomach. ‘I asked about Derek, because Declan let slip earlier today that his father had a crime board. I’m assuming it was at his house. He said that Derek was on it and linked to you and a couple of other people.’
‘Patrick Walsh put me on a crime board,’ Johnny smiled. ‘I’m touched.’
‘But it means that Patrick Walsh, and now Declan is investigating you,’ Anjli said. ‘I don’t know what the board is, or what it represents, but—’
‘But you will,’ Johnny interrupted, rising. He seemed more in control now. ‘You will find out, and you will tell me everything. Private medical help can be so expensive, especially when it’s cancer.�
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‘Come on, Johnny—’
‘You mean Mister Lucas.’
‘To be honest, I thought you already knew,’ Anjli continued. ‘I assume it was you who burgled his house today?’
‘Why would I bother with such tawdry crime when I have you to do my bidding?’ Johnny replied. ‘I want to see the crime wall, DS Kapoor. Make it so.’
With a last smile, Johnny left the Angel & Crown, leaving Anjli alone, her legs shaking as the adrenaline hit.
She slumped back onto the sofa, moving to the red wine and downing the glass with shaking fingers. Johnny Lucas was right. While her mother was ill and needing treatment, he owned her. But for the moment she wouldn't give him the photos she’d taken while Declan was searching his filing cabinet, surreptitiously taken on her phone while pretending to read something on it. She wanted to examine them herself, to ensure that she wasn’t putting anyone in Johnny or Jackie Lucas’ crosshairs when she eventually passed them to him. A line Johnny had spoken returned to haunt her memory.
‘Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.’
And with that, alone in a gentrified pub, Anjli Kapoor began to quietly cry.
Declan sat at a table on the upper floor of the Nellie Dean pub in Soho, a pint of Guinness in front of him, watching the Dean Street lunchtime trade through the window to his side. Although packed downstairs, many of the tourists didn’t realise that there was a small rickety staircase leading to another floor upstairs, where trendy pie and mash dinners were served; this meant that even at lunchtime on a weekday you could usually find a table up there. And so Declan sat at one, watching out of the window and waiting.
He didn’t have to wait long. Only three sips into his pint, he heard movement on the stairs and Kendis Taylor walked into the upstairs bar, a white wine already in her hand. She walked over to Declan’s table and sat down facing him with a smile.
‘Cosy,’ she said.
‘They do great pies,’ Declan replied.
‘I’ve eaten already,’ Kendis glanced at the menu, anyway.
‘I haven’t, and I wasn’t considering your opinions on it,’ Declan smiled. Kendis smiled in return.
‘You’re looking better than when I last saw you,’ she said. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘No, I’ve returned to my normal weight,’ Declan looked down at himself. ‘After the divorce, the suspension and dad’s death, I let myself go a little. Now I run when I can and I’ve even bought one of those exercise spin bike things.’
‘Really? I am impressed,’ Kendis leaned back, taking Declan in. ‘And I didn’t mention it last time, but I’m glad you dumped the beard, too.’
Declan looked at Kendis, the light from the window currently striking her smile, making it sparkle even more. He’d come to terms a long time ago that Kendis Taylor was the one he’d let get away. They’d both moved on; Declan with Lizzie, and Kendis with Peter. However, at times like this when he sat with her, every teenage thought and emotion returned like a truck slamming into him. He took a sip from his Guinness to hide his expression.
‘So, business or personal?’ he asked, waving around the pub, still ensuring that he didn’t catch her eye. Kendis shrugged.
‘Can’t it be both?’
Declan laughed. ‘Spoken like a typical journalist,’ he joked. ‘This is all off the record, but by the way can I chat to you on the record…’
Kendis nodded. ‘Fair point,’ she accepted. ‘I wanted to talk about several things. I thought this could be a good time to do it.’
‘No evening meetings at my house?’ Declan was referring to the last time he’d seen Kendis, when she had been waiting outside his then Tottenham apartment. She shook her head.
‘Best to keep it to public places,’ she said. ‘Peter was a little… Well, he was jealous when he learned I’d seen you.’
Declan hid a triumphant smirk at this. He didn’t know Peter, but there was a little shard of happiness in the heart of his soul when he heard of his discomfort.
‘And we wouldn’t want that, would we?’ he said.
Kendis didn’t answer, turning back to the menu once more.
Eventually she looked up.
‘We’re having issues right now,’ she said. ‘It’s not really working.’
‘Shit. I’m sorry,’ Declan felt bad for his triumphant smirk now. ‘I’m sure it’ll work out.’
‘I’m not sure I want it to work out,’ Kendis admitted looking at Declan. ‘It’s been falling apart for a while now, and neither of us really knows how to fix it. And I think I want… other things.’
There was a long, awkward silence now, as if Kendis had expected or wanted Declan to reply to this. Instead, he stared at her in silence, his mind moving at a hundred miles an hour. He still loved Kendis, but neither of them were the teenagers they’d been before.
Could it work? Could he really put Kendis through the same legal problems that he’d had himself when he left Lizzie?
As if realising that she’d crossed a line, Kendis took a sip of her drink and carried on, changing the subject, suddenly all business.
‘I’m doing a piece on Derek Salmon,’ she said. ‘We all know he’s the prime suspect in the case.’
‘And I’d like to know about your source in this,’ Declan replied. ‘More importantly, I’d like to know their connection to the Seven Sisters.’
Kendis shook her head. ‘I can’t, and you know that.’
She looked out of the window, staring down at the street below.
‘All I can say is that my source knows it’s coming from Mama Delcourt herself. That she had some kind of connection to Salmon in the past, and now she’s calling in debts.’
Declan shook his head. ‘Off the record? Quid pro quo?’
Kendis nodded, so Declan continued.
‘Derek’s dying. Months at best. He’s made a deal with the Sisters to gain money for his family if he takes the fall. But he’s trying to play them; if he’s proven innocent saying nothing, the deal still stands. He’ll make the money but go free.’
Kendis’ expression changed slightly, as if she was about to smile, but thought better of it.
‘But is he innocent?’ she asked.
‘You tell me,’ Declan said, watching Kendis for any further reaction. ‘You saw dad’s crime board. You saw Derek on it.’
If this had surprised her, Kendis Taylor didn’t show it. Derek knew that Kendis had seen the crime board in his father’s secret study because she’d already admitted to assisting Patrick Walsh with his memoirs and had been in the study to work on the book with him. Hell, she probably even wrote the book for him.
‘He was dirty,’ she sighed. ‘Your father knew it, but he said that Derek was also a good copper, so he said nothing. And when he moved out of the Unit, Patrick ensured that Derek stayed where he was, at DI level. I think Patrick only saw him again when you started working with him.’
‘So Derek worked for the Sisters…’ Declan thought back to his conversation in the car where Derek had expressed bitterness at having to go to someone he’d hated, that he’d hunted. Was all of this a lie?
‘Hold on. You twitched when I spoke about the family debt,’ he said. ‘Like you were going to smile, but then stopped.’
Kendis nodded. ‘I thought you were joking. You weren’t, were you?’
‘No,’ Declan leaned back in his chair. ‘What am I missing?’
‘Derek’s family left him a decade ago because of his crime connections,’ Kendis replied. ‘Your dad told me this. Therefore, they would never take such money. Besides, his wife doesn’t need it.’
‘Why?’
‘You should read the news more.’ And with that she leaned back in her own chair, folding her arms and with a smug expression on her face. Declan knew she wouldn't tell him anything else.
‘Dad could have told me about all this,’ Declan muttered.
‘Your father knew you could look after yourself,’ Kendis explained. ‘He was watching, though.’
‘Derek played me for a fool,’ Declan muttered. Kendis shrugged.
‘If it makes you feel better, he played your father for years before he worked it out,’ she replied. ‘He started taking money from the Sisters. Little things, turning the head away type things. He also took some money from the brothers Lucas, but that was more other people’s game.’
‘Monroe?’
Kendis shook her head. ‘Anyway, we—’
‘Was it my dad?’
Kendis stopped, looking directly at Declan. ‘You don’t want to open that door,’ she said.
Declan nodded. ‘I know,’ he replied. ‘But I have to.’
Kendis sighed. ‘Lucas paid them all off, at one point or another. Salmon, Monroe, Wintergreen and Patrick.’
Declan frowned at the name Wintergreen. It was the name he’d seen with the USB drive the previous night. ‘Who’s Wintergreen?’
‘She’s not in the manuscript,’ Kendis replied. ‘You’ll need to speak to Monroe for that.’
‘Why can’t you just tell me?’
‘Because that’s what your father told me. I just know the name.’
Declan considered this. So his father and Monroe both worked for Johnny and Jackie Lucas at some point. In a way, he’d expected this ever since Shaun Donnal had turned up at his father’s house several weeks earlier.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I needed the truth.’
‘That’s a log line, not the truth,’ Kendis explained. ‘The truth is way more confusing.’
‘Care to tell me about it?’
Kendis shook her head, looking at her watch. ‘I’m on a deadline,’ she replied. ‘I can’t stay long.’
‘So what was so important that you needed to meet with me?’ Declan asked.
Kendis nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her own moleskin notebook. Opening it, she flicked through some pages until she found what she was looking for.
‘When Angela went missing a year back, a guy on our crime desk did some research that eventually went nowhere,’ she said, running a finger down the lines of shorthand. ‘But he found some things, mainly to do with her birth.’
‘Her birth?’ Declan thought back to the conversation about the Nunnery. Kendis found the line she was looking for.