The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  Trying not to think too much on the trial, she remembered Casey’s words to her, that she had done her part and she had to move on. She sighed, knowing he was probably right, though that would not stop her.

  She jogged up the slope on the far side of the playing field and onto a main road, not turning back to look at the tower blocks of the receding Goldsworth behind her.

  * * *

  Dante sat in solitary, his back against the wall.

  The cell next door had gone quiet at last. Troy had shouted for what felt like hours, and now he must have either fallen asleep or lost his voice, because silence pressed in around him in the dark room.

  He was not worried about the drugs. He was sure that more would find their way in soon, it was prison after all. Troy could probably even get his brothers to redeliver, so it was no big loss. Besides, he had stashed enough to see him through until then.

  The phone, though, was what worried him.

  Dante had intended to use the recording of Troy’s confession as leverage, or blackmail, when the time was right and he wanted to topple the youngest Banks brother from his perch.

  Now he had lost it, and he could not think of anything that could replace it. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tiled wall, taking deep breaths.

  When he had tipped off one of the guards about his cellmate, he had fully expected to have time to clear out all the drugs and the phone to a new hiding place, one that only he knew about, before they swooped down, but he had been sorely mistaken. He should have waited until the cell was clear, he thought, but it was too late to second guess himself.

  He had just wanted Troy to get paranoid after the search, to give him more responsibilities. He had not wanted them to find the phone.

  Troy would be shaken by the search, that was for sure. And Dante still had the drugs hidden away, he thought, trying to reassure himself. He had lost the phone, which was frustrating, but it did not mean the game was up. Not by a long shot.

  Still, he would have to think of a new plan, he realized, feeling his thoughts sinking.

  The only thought that brought a smile to his lips was as he wondered what Troy’s reaction might have been had he known about the incriminating confession that the prison guards now held in their hands.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Troy cleared his throat, stood in the doorway to the cell. His cellmate looked up at him, surprised.

  “You got out of solitary early,” Troy said, stepping into the room, his tone accusatory. “What did you tell them?”

  Dante sighed as he looked at him.

  “Nothing, I swear down,” he replied. Troy’s eyes remained narrowed. Dante knew that his cellmate wanted to believe him. “Hell, I used that phone too, mate. I’m just as gutted as you are.”

  Troy considered him a moment, and Dante could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes, trying to weigh up whether to trust him.

  “That’s true,” he said.

  “I got here a few minutes before you, that’s all,” Dante continued.

  Troy sighed, the confrontation seemingly over already. Dante smiled to himself. It had been a lot easier to fool him that he had feared it would be.

  He lay back on his bunk as Troy paced the room, waiting for the guard to arrive and process him out for his second day in court.

  “As if I didn’t have enough shit going on,” Troy mumbled.

  “I’ll take care of things here,” Dante offered. Troy looked at him, eyes hardening.

  “Take care of what?” he demanded. “We lost everything, there’s nothing to -”

  “Yeah, I know mate, but we don’t need to let anyone else know that,” Dante said, trying to keep his voice casual, frustrated with his cellmate’s slow uptake. “I mean, we don’t want them to go to anyone else. If anyone comes asking, I’ll tell them the delivery is late and we’ll have it tomorrow, or a few days at the latest.”

  “I guess my brothers can get some more in by then,” Troy mused. He nodded slowly in Dante’s direction. “Cool, well you hold things down here then.”

  They fell quiet as a guard approached. Dante waved him off as Troy left with a mumbled goodbye. He smiled. It was too easy, he thought. Perhaps he would not even need the recording if this was how simple it would be to take over from Troy.

  He would wait a while and then make the rounds as normal. He still had the drugs stashed, so for him it would be business as usual, except this time the Banks brothers would not be getting any of the profit. He would be keeping all of that for himself.

  Perhaps, he thought, everything would work out just fine after all.

  * * *

  Serena swung through the doors to the station and swiped her pass at the security doors. She followed the directions Casey had given her and slowed as she approached the desk that Carl Hurst was sitting at, two discarded throwaway coffee cups already at the side of his keyboard, and his eyes focused on the screen.

  He looked up as she dropped into the seat at the vacant desk in front of him, the one that had been assigned to her and that she had yet to use.

  “You decided to come in then,” Carl said, returning his focus to the computer.

  Serena felt bad that she was not pulling her weight on the case. If she had turned down Jenkins’ placement, then Carl might have been assigned someone different, a detective who would most definitely have been more interested in it than her.

  “I’m sorry,” she admitted. “I lost focus, you know, with the trial, but I’m here now and ready to go.”

  Carl sighed, then nodded.

  “Fair enough,” he relented. He leant back in his seat, stretching out, and Serena wondered how long he had already been here this morning. He stifled a yawn and composed himself. “Right, I guess I should fill you in. It’s a messy case, and there are a lot of different teams involved in this. Financial crime is the big player, they’re going over the accounts, tracing all the money, every single penny. He was laundering hundreds of thousands a year, and he had his finger in about every pie there was. It’s a big task.”

  “I can’t say I envy them,” Serena grimaced.

  “Me either,” Carl said. “Our job is to look into all the people involved with Jasper. His associates, his girlfriends, his brother. He’s been a mobster for quite a few decades, so you can imagine what it’s been like.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better get started and help you out,” Serena said.

  Carl cracked a smile, evidently pleased that she was onboard now. He grabbed a file from the pile on his desk and heaved it onto her desk.

  “You should already have access to all the online systems we’re using, but for now there’s good old paperwork to look at,” he said.

  Serena was about to reply when her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out, wondering for a moment if it might be about her son. Unknown number. She answered, hesitant.

  “Hi, Detective Patterson?” a woman’s voice asked timidly. Serena confirmed it was her. “Hi, yes, I’m Mandy, the witness liaison officer at court. You asked me to keep you informed about the witnesses today.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Serena said. “Have they shown up?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Mandy replied. “Amal Siddiqui was a no-show. I thought I’d let you know, because you asked me to, but there’s not much I can really do I’m afraid. The court will be adjourned for the morning, and we’ll have to see if Mr Ahmed turns up this afternoon.”

  “I’ll make sure he does,” Serena said.

  Mandy said goodbye and hung up. Serena put her phone in her pocket and rose to her feet. Carl looked at her questioningly.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said, and she saw the frustration on her colleague’s face. “This is important. It’s about the trial.”

  “I thought Jenkins said -”

  “I know, but I have to help out,” Serena said, shaking her head. “I have to.”

  “The trial isn’t the only important thing, you know,” Carl said, as sh
e turned. “This is important too.”

  Serena shot him an apologetic glance over her shoulder and flew out of the office, wondering if Carl was already ringing up Jenkins to report on her actions.

  * * *

  Troy could sense the tension building in the courtroom. Muttered whispers had erupted from the gallery, and the prosecution team looked anxiously over their shoulders to the door, shuffling papers and whispering in urgent tones to each other.

  Ms Khan looked pleased for herself at the defence table, smiling at Rush, and that meant Troy should be relieved too, he thought, knowing what must have happened.

  Amal was not showing up. He knew that he could count on his mate. His earlier bitterness about the raid last night lessened as he started to feel a new confidence. Who cared if they had the phone? He could be out soon if things kept going so well for him in here.

  Judge Harksaw cleared his throat and levelled Lindhurst with a stern look.

  “Is your witness coming?” he demanded.

  “We are, erm, having a few issues contacting him,” Lindhurst admitted, blushing. He stood up, at the same time as Khan did.

  “We ask that you allow some time,” Lindhurst asked, his tone almost pleading.

  Troy tried not to smile at the look on his face.

  “If the witness isn’t coming,” Khan countered, “Then –”

  Judge Harksaw was silent for a moment.

  “Court will adjourn for two hours,” Harksaw said, banging the gavel down. More whispers from the gallery, louder this time. He looked at Lindhurst. “You have until then to track down your missing witness. If not, we’ll proceed with the next.”

  Lindhurst nodded furiously, sweat on his brow. Things had clearly not gone as he had hoped, Troy thought smugly.

  Troy knew that they could try and track down Amal all they wanted, but that did not mean they could persuade him to take the stand and testify against him. With a new sense of victory, he rose with the rest of the court as the judge swept from the room.

  * * *

  “It’s not even like we gave statements,” Amal said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry yourself, we’ll be fine.”

  Tamar nodded from beside him on the sofa, phone in his hand, halfway through a message from Zoe. Glancing down, Amal raised an eyebrow.

  “Is she taking the stand?” he asked.

  Tamar shrugged. Amal left it at that, not wanting to pry. He was not sure what was going on between Tamar and Zoe, but whatever it was, it was none of his business. Besides, Zoe had anger towards Troy for what he had done, or tried to do, to her daughter, so Amal was hardly surprised if she wanted to pay him back. She could do what she wanted, he thought. Amal would not have her back either way.

  There was a knock on the door and Amal straightened up. Tamar almost dropped his phone, and Amal tried not to look on edge as he caught his eye.

  “Do you think that’s the police?” Tamar asked.

  “Nah, mate,” Amal replied, his voice shaking slightly.

  He got up and went to the front door, sliding the latch into place. He opened the door and groaned when he saw Detective Patterson in front of him once more. She frowned, seeing the chain, and put a hand on her hip.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” she demanded.

  “Well, aren’t you supposed to be not somewhere? Like here?” Amal retorted, feeling braver with the door between them. “You heard my mum yesterday. Do one.”

  “You haven’t got away with this,” Patterson insisted. “The judge has adjourned the court, but the police will be here to pick you up.”

  “You mean they didn’t even send you here?” Amal asked, surprised. It made sense now, why she had come alone, why she seemed so desperate. “They’re not really coming, are they? You’re just trying to scare me because that’s the only way you can get me to go, if you trick me into doing it. That’s pathetic, bitch.”

  He laughed, shaking his head, and slammed the door shut.

  There was a bang and the door shook, and he wondered if she had slammed her fist into it. He sniggered and rejoined Tamar in the lounge.

  “Don’t worry, we’re fine,” he grinned, sitting back down. “Can you believe her? Talk about sad. I’d almost feel sorry for her if she wasn’t such a cow.”

  Tamar nodded, clapping him on the back, the tension gone from the room, as Amal grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

  * * *

  Dante had waited until Troy was safely off to court before he had dared to leave the cell and wait for Officer Wimbly to come on duty. He knew that the officer was the one who brought in Troy’s supplies, and he fully intended to wipe Troy out of the negotiations and ensure that Wimbly only delivered the drugs to him from now on. He was not sure why the officer was working for the Banks brothers, but from what he had seen of his nervous disposition, it was not through his own choice.

  When Wimbly came on duty, Dante hesitated.

  He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen when he made his intentions clear to the officer. He knew Wimbly wasn’t likely to take him down the block, because that would mean having to confess to his own involvement in the scheme so far. He could tell the Banks brothers what Dante had said, though, and that was a troubling thought, but the drugs that he had stolen from Troy were beginning to run out now, thanks in part to his own liberal use of them, and he needed a way to bring them in or everything he had done so far would be wasted.

  He waited until Wimbly was alone, walking towards him, before Dante cleared his throat, attracting his attention. Wimbly was overweight, with a ruddy complexion and watery eyes. He looked nervous most of the time, and it was hard to imagine why he had chosen such a career. His eyes were suspicious when he looked towards Dante, half-hidden by the metal stair railings leading to the upper levels.

  “Something you wanted, Cortez?” Wimbly asked.

  “Yeah, actually, there is,” Dante said, and Wimbly approached cautiously. His hand inched closer to the radio at his waist, and Dante wondered if he was making a mistake. He looked around, and that seemed to make Wimbly more uneasy.

  “Come on, spit it out,” Wimbly prompted him.

  “The arrangement you got going on with Troy Banks,” Dante said calmly, watching sweat break out on Wimbly’s forehead as he frowned. “I’m taking over that, so you don’t need to trouble him with the drop-off anymore.”

  “You what?” Wimbly asked, looking around nervously for eavesdroppers.

  “I said that I’m taking over that arrangement from now on,” Dante repeated, smiling at the officer. It was a good sign that he hadn’t yet gone for the radio. Wimbly shook his head, and Dante smiled wider. “Don’t shake your fucking head,” he chastised him. “Just nod, say yes, and we’ll have no trouble.”

  “I can’t do that –” Wimbly stammered. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, or what you think you know, but –”

  “We can play this game if you like,” Dante shrugged. “But I ain’t got the time. If you’re not going to agree, then we’re going to have some problems.”

  “I don’t want to do this anymore,” Wimbly said, looking desperate. “I’ve told Tyrese, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “And I ain’t listening either,” Dante said, lowering his voice. “I suggest you just agree to what I’m saying, bring the goods to me instead of Troy, and –”

  “No, no,” Wimbly was shaking his head. “I’ve got a wife and kids, I can’t –”

  Dante considered him a moment. This man was a fat pussy, and though he might not want to help him out, Dante knew that this man would either toe the line or he’d be in the shit.

  “Maybe you should help me out for their sakes’ then,” Dante suggested, and Wimbly went pale. “I ain’t in the business of hurting people, but I will do if you make me. Now, I’m going ask you again, and if I don’t get the response I want –” He left the rest of the sentence unfinished, hanging in the air, and Wimbly wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, still looking dangerous
ly pale. “You know what I’m in here for,” Dante reminded him quietly.

  “Okay, okay,” Wimbly mumbled. “I’ll do it.”

  “Good,” Dante said, smiling again. He closed the gap between them, and Wimbly winced, looking terrified. “Don’t forget now, chubby, you answer to me now. Not the Banks brothers, not Troy, not the fucking boss, but to me.”

  Wimbly nodded, looking as if he couldn’t talk.

  “Who do you work for?” Dante asked, smiling wickedly at him.

  “You,” Wimbly intoned, shaking, on the verge of tears. His face was red now. Dante sniggered, and Wimbly continued to sweat profusely. “I work for you now.”

  * * *

  Aurora rolled onto her side and winced as an ache shot through her. She swung one leg over the side of the bed, then the other, and felt the cool floor on the balls of her feet as she stood. She needed to stretch her legs and get out of the bed for a little while. Clint came in and rushed over to her, reaching for her in concern.

  “You shouldn’t be up yet,” he gushed, wrapping an arm around her and making to guide her back to bed. Aurora shook him off.

  “I’m okay,” she insisted, and Clint let her go, looking uncertain.

  The doctor came in, smiling. He shook Clint’s hand and glanced over at Angel in her cot.

  “We’re ready to discharge you now,” he said, looking from her to Clint and back again. “If you’re not ready to go home, you can stay overnight, but Angel’s doing well, and so are you, so –”

  “Maybe just tonight,” Clint nodded.

  “No, no,” Aurora shook her head, and both of them looked at her. “I’d like to get home. My mum wants to see Angel, and I’d like my own bed.”

  The doctor nodded in understanding, and made a note on his clipboard. She sensed Clint wasn’t so sure, but he kept quiet and she wondered if he was worried about getting back to the flat.

  When the doctor had gone, Clint helped Aurora sit back down on the edge of the bed and brought her clothes to her. They would be big on her, she thought, now that she had lost her huge pregnancy bump. She realised she hadn’t brought any clothes down with her other than maternity clothes, but she was sure her mum had kept some of her clothes, the ones she’d left behind in the rush to flee the estate and get to Manchester. If not, she could borrow some of Shan’s clothes, she thought, already uncomfortable at the prospect.