The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  Serena grimaced. It looked like things would get difficult if Banks was involved in Curtis’ murder and had a whole gang, run by his brothers, to defend him.

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. The door opened and an assistant brought in a large red file, marked ‘Goldsworth Estate’.

  She flicked through the pages and came to Troy Banks’ file. She briefly read through it. An arrest for being drunk and disorderly, for which he’d received a caution. But Serena knew that the police didn’t venture onto the Goldsworth Estate to catch youths drinking underage. If they did, they’d never have time to catch any other criminals. It meant they had detected Banks, suspected him of being involved in an assault, and had wanted to bring him in on a lesser charge to see if they could get a confession. This didn’t usually work, but it let the police get a glimpse of him, and keep a file on him which they could use if he ever crossed the lines between legality and illegality in the future. It was a way the police could keep tabs on potential criminals from a younger age, although admittedly it was becoming harder as the age of criminals kept dropping.

  She looked over the statements given at the time of his arrest and alleged assault on an unnamed victim. Two people had given witness statements, Troy’s childhood friend Clint Jackson was one of them. Clint Jackson. That must be the boy she’d seen waiting for Aurora earlier, Serena thought excitedly. She made a note to ask Aurora about him. That would not only tell her more about one of her prime suspects, but more about how much she could trust Aurora with regards to details of the case. It wasn’t unheard of for young women, in love with their criminal husbands, to feed false information to throw the police off their husband’s trail, or to tip off their husband as to whether the police were coming for them. No, she would definitely have to determine how much of a risk Aurora was to the investigation.

  The other witness statement came from Brandine Mason. She was Banks’ girlfriend. Or had been at the time of the incident. Whether or not she was now was unknown, but Serena knew that questioning her wouldn’t do any harm. If Brandine was still Banks’ girlfriend, it meant one of two things. Either Brandine was seriously pressured to stay in the relationship, and therefore would be grateful of a chance to get Banks locked-up and would help as much as she could with Serena’s inquiries, or she was supportive of Banks’ behaviour and actions, in which case she was as much a criminal as Banks himself was, and she would either face charges alongside him or be a serious hindrance to the investigation. Probably both. And if she didn’t know about Banks’ activities, she was probably pretty stupid. And she’d get a nasty wake-up call regarding her relationship choices, if Serena’s suspicions proved right and Banks was responsible and was arrested.

  She put his file on her desk, and found the files for Tyrese Banks and Trent Banks, Troy’s brothers. She read Tyrese’s first. He was older, Trent was the younger of the two. She was surprised to read that the three brothers had a younger sister. Serena couldn’t imagine what it must be like for the young girl, growing up with three criminal brothers sharing a flat with her.

  As she read through the two files, she became more and more interested. Both brothers had been questioned in regard to drug dealing, but the charges were dropped against both when a childhood friend of Tyrese’s had confessed to everything and been put away in jail for twenty-five years. The file stated that the friend was also a member of the gang, and the detective at the time had been convinced he only confessed because he was part of the gang and therefore wanted to spare Tyrese and Trent, the leaders, from going to prison. Strange, Serena thought. But not unheard of.

  Since the incident with the drug-dealing interrogation, the police had continued to suspect the brothers of running a drugs operation. But with no evidence, the brothers had been left untouched by the police for almost two years now. Serena wondered at how a young man like Troy Banks could want to be involved with men like this, even if they were his brothers. Maybe that was all he knew.

  As night began to fall outside the window, and the lights of London flickered on, Casey made excuses and left the office. Serena watched the door close behind him, and evaluated her feelings on Casey. He was a pain, that was for sure. But he had been helpful today, even if he had kept the information to himself for the best part of three days. Still, he was training and it might have slipped his mind. As if. At least he had volunteered the information she’d needed eventually, Serena thought. Perhaps he was starting to like her a bit, or at least respect her. She didn’t know if she would ever like him, but at least he wasn’t as dislikeable as he had been up until a few hours ago.

  She turned her attention back to the files but could gather little more information. And she was feeling tired. She made a list of things she would have to do. Speak to Brandine Mason and Aurora Curtis regarding their respective boyfriends, and see whether they would help or hinder her investigations. Banks and Jackson, she would wait awhile, and see how the land lay. She needed more of a plan for them. Perhaps she could get surveillance to keep a look out on them, see who else they were involved with, and take it from there. See what they could find out about their movements. The brothers, although suspicious and clearly criminals, were not part of her investigation and she couldn’t interfere with other ongoing investigations unless she found a clear link, supported by copious amounts of evidence, that connected her case to them.

  Rubbing her eyes, she flicked off the desk lamp and heaved the files into her handbag. She left the office and went down the elevator, across the car park, to her car. She sighed as she got in the driver’s seat and turned the key. She hated these investigations, and she hated London. She had a feeling she’d been sent back here for a reason she hadn’t yet discovered. Unresolved issues in her past? Unlikely. And any other reasons made her doubtful as well. She would wait and see what tomorrow brought, and then see where she stood.

  * * *

  In the warmth of Troy’s flat, Clint was feeling more optimistic than he had been before. He’d discussed things with Troy and had been reassured that the woman detective didn’t know a flying fuck about anything. Troy had been surprised, just as he had been, about the detective’s childhood, growing up on the Goldsworth, but as Troy had said, times had changed loads since then and she didn’t know anything about how the estate worked today. She didn’t have a clue.

  Now, after their discussion, they were sitting in front of the television, watching a film. Clint had forgotten the name, but it involved action heroes, big guns, fast cars, swearing, and lots of attractive women. It was good. Thinking of attractive women, Clint remembered the moment with Aurora. He had wanted to kiss her, it had been like a compulsion. He longed to hold her in his arms. He wanted her. He felt himself stirring again, just at the thought of her, and knew that this time it was different. He hadn’t felt like this about any other girl before. It was so different it was refreshing, exciting. The only problem was he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom whenever he thought of a future with her.

  “What’s up mate?” Troy asked, eyeing his friend suspiciously.

  “Nothing, just thinking,” Clint replied. He knew Troy wouldn’t understand about his feelings for Aurora, so it was pointless telling him and being mocked for the rest of the week.

  “Want another beer?”

  “Yeah, go on then.”

  Troy got up and went into the kitchen, and came back shortly after with two cans of beer. He cracked one open and began drinking it, and flipped the other one to Clint. Clint opened it and drank heavily from it, appreciating the cold, refreshing taste in the warmth of the room.

  The front door opened and two large men walked in. It was Troy’s brothers. Clint knew people were scared of them, but he wasn’t. He had known them since he’d been a toddler, and had always respected them. He never caused them any bother, so they didn’t bother him. It was how everyone liked it.

  “What a fucking night!” Tyrese, the elder brother, said, laughing loudly and kicking his shoes off. He came
into the lounge and laughed again, “Look, we have the faggots here again.”

  Tyrese was the larger of the two, tall with large muscles, dark skin, and he was wearing a blue Nike sports coat and army pants. He was a ladies’ man, although he had supposedly remained faithful to his current partner of two years, Mercedes.

  “Fuck off!” Troy snapped, eyeing his brother wearily.

  Tyrese laughed again and swayed on the spot. Too much to drink, Clint thought. Another figure walked into the room, shorter than Tyrese, but muscular, with a handsome face and dark skin. He was wearing jeans and a white hooded sweater, and he too was drunk and laughing loudly.

  “He’s only messing with you, bro,” he said, looking at Troy, “Don’t mess or nothing.”

  Troy averted his gaze back to the television and ignored them. The two brothers went back into the kitchen and closed the door. Clint felt slightly relieved that they were no longer in the room. They had always had an effect on him. He wasn’t scared, well not very much anyway. But he knew they were dangerous. They ran drugs, and they hurt people badly. To be in a gang you had to have kudos and the ability to forget what you did. Perhaps that was why Troy didn’t show any remorse for killing Shaniqua Curtis. Maybe growing up around his brothers had made him unable to feel any guilt.

  Clint watched the television for a few more minutes, and then stood up.

  “I’d better be off now, bro.”

  Troy nodded, not averting his gaze from the movie. “Catch you tomorrow, bro.”

  Clint left the room, and entered the kitchen. Tyrese and Trent looked up from their seats at the cluttered kitchen table.

  “Night,” Clint waved to them, as he put his hand on the front door.

  “Is something up with Troy?” Tyrese asked, slurring his words slightly, but glaring at Clint intently.

  Clint swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what answer they wanted, or which answer he should give.

  “No, man, why would there be?” he managed to mutter, his cheeks burning.

  Tyrese and Trent both looked at him, their eyes locking with his. Clint felt as if they could see right through him, to the truth. He averted his gaze, worried about getting Troy into any trouble.

  Tyrese shrugged, “No reason. Just thought he was acting weird, like.”

  “I haven’t noticed anything.”

  Tyrese shrugged again, and returned his gaze to his brother.

  “Night, man.” Tyrese said, and Trent waved him out.

  Clint opened the front door and stepped outside into the cool air. He was grateful when the door closed firmly shut behind him. That had been worrying. He couldn’t even keep his cool and lie convincingly when questioned by Tyrese, so how would he be able to cope if he was questioned by the police?

  Then again, he thought, the Banks brothers were a lot scarier than the police.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following morning, Troy awoke with a raging headache and a dry throat. He shouldn’t have drunk so many beers last night, but he’d been enjoying himself. Well, if he was honest, he hadn’t been enjoying it. It had just been something to do, and when Clint had come around, they’d drank some more, and then when Clint had left and his brothers had come into the lounge and switched on a horror movie, they had drank even more. Then, in the early hours of the morning, Troy had stumbled to bed, his head spinning. He had left his brothers in the lounge, discussing business. One day soon, Troy hoped, he too would be discussing it with them.

  But until then, he was stuck with going to school. Shit, he thought, remembering he had English today. With the dwarf. Well, fuck her, he thought. He would skive that lesson and go down the shop for some fags. That was the other problem with drinking until four in the morning, you smoked all the fags you’d been saving for the next day.

  As he walked into the kitchen after showering and getting dressed, he sat down at the kitchen table and his mum slipped a cup of coffee in front of him.

  “Cheers,” he muttered.

  “What time did you get to bed last night?” she asked him, as she clattered around making some breakfast.

  “Four.”

  “That’s too late for a school night, Troy,” she said, her voice rising an octave, “And what have I told you about drinking on week nights as well?”

  “Cut it out, ma, I ain’t in the mood for a lecture.” Troy said, his temper rising, and he gulped down the coffee, burning his throat and doing little to ease his headache.

  She bristled, but said nothing more on the subject.

  The kitchen door flew open, and Troy looked up at his younger sister, Jessie. At thirteen, she was three years younger than Troy, and was the apple of her mother’s eye. Her brothers, too. Troy was the only one who didn’t treat her as a princess, although he knew that if anyone ever touched her without his permission, he would kill them. Literally.

  Jessie was a short girl, with dark skin, braided hair that reached her shoulders, and a pretty face. She was wearing her school uniform, but Troy noticed that she had rolled her skirt up a few inches to show off her legs. Looking at her properly for the first time in a few months, Troy was also surprised to see that his little sister’s chest was growing, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the lads at school started sniffing around her, and then he would have to take care of matters. His brothers would too, and Troy hoped that, if he wasn’t already in their gang when this happened, he would be allowed to join afterwards. Family loyalty and all that.

  Troy winced as Jessie turned the radio on, and music blasted out of the speakers.

  “Turn that fucking racket off,” Troy shouted, but Jessie ignored him and sat down at the table, and proceeded to take her mobile out of her handbag and check her messages.

  Tyrese, wearing nothing but a worn bath towel, walked in, and turned the radio off. Troy sighed in relief, and rubbed his forehead. Maybe he wouldn’t bother with school at all today, maybe he and Clint could just fuck it off and go play footie on the fields out back. It wasn’t like any of the teachers would be sad he wasn’t in anyway.

  “What you do that for?” Jessie pouted, turning to her eldest brother.

  “Because it’s shit music, and too loud,” Tyrese replied, “Shouldn’t you be off to school anyway, missy?”

  “Fuck off,” was Jessie’s reply.

  “Watch your language, please,” their mother scolded, facing them all.

  “Puh-lease,” Jessie said, waving her mother away, “I’m not a baby, I can swear as much as I want.”

  “Not whilst I’m around,” their mum said, her voice rising.

  “And not around me, neither.” Tyrese said, and Jessie eyed him cautiously.

  “Well, fuck this then,” Jessie said, her voice shrill, “I’m off out, Jazz is waiting for me anyway.”

  “Have a good day at school, sweetheart,” mum sighed.

  “Yeah, like it’s possible to have a good day when we’ve got school,” Jessie retorted.

  As she headed for the door, Tyrese grabbed her and pulled her skirt back down so that the hem reached her knees like it was supposed to. Jessie shrieked and slapped his hand away, glaring angrily.

  “Fuck off Tyrese, all the girls have it like this.”

  “Yeah, and they’re all slags, which is why if I see you with a skirt this short again, I’ll break your fucking legs,” Tyrese said jokingly, laughing.

  Jessie sighed heavily and left the flat.

  “How long d’you reckon it’ll be before she pulls it right back up?” Tyrese laughed, sitting down in her place.

  “Before she gets off the estate, for sure,” Troy answered.

  “So how’s your head?” Tyrese asked.

  “Like shit.”

  “No change there then,” Trent laughed, as he walked into the kitchen wearing a tracksuit, and sat down beside Troy.

  Troy punched his brother’s arm, and Trent laughed again, not daring to admit that his younger brother’s punch was actually pretty strong. With a little training, Troy could be a rea
l asset to the gang.

  There was a knock on the door, and their mother answered, frying pan still in her hand.

  “Oh, morning Brandy, sweetheart, come in,” she smiled, and Brandy stepped into the kitchen.

  Troy looked at her, and felt himself stirring. Her short skirt was far shorter than Jessie’s had been, and it showed off her long legs to perfection, and her school shirt had a few buttons too many open at the top, revealing her impressive cleavage and a flash of lacy red bra. Troy would have fun taking that off when they got some time alone.

  Tyrese and Trent were also impressed, although they didn’t show it to Troy. They knew he was possessive of his girlfriend, and jealous if anyone else showed an interest in her. Brandy walked in and kissed Troy on the cheek, blowing out smoke from her cigarette as she did.

  “You ready then?” she asked, looking at Troy’s half-finished mug of coffee, and smirked, “Got a hangover then?”

  “Yeah, he was wasted last night,” Trent laughed, patting Troy on the back, “I reckon he’ll only make it through one lesson before he chucks up!”

  “A whole lesson?” Tyrese grinned, “He doesn’t even make a whole lesson on a normal day, I reckon he’ll make it off the estate and go bunking off.”

  “Fuck off,” Troy scowled.

  Tyrese was once again reminded of his suspicions over Troy. Something was definitely bothering him. Clint had proved as much last night, and whatever it was, Tyrese was determined to find out.

  “Well, he’s got to walk me to school, like now, and then he can do whatever he wants,” Brandy said, putting her cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray the brothers had used last night and not emptied.

  Troy stood up and waited whilst Brandy said her goodbyes, before they left the flat together.

  When they’d got round the corner, Troy checked to make sure nobody was nearby, and pushed Brandy up against the wall. He slid his hands under her blouse and felt her smooth stomach, before his hands rose to the lacy red bra. She moaned softly, and kissed his neck.