The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  All his happy thoughts at leaving Scarlett’s had evaporated as he thought of their words and what they expected of him tomorrow.

  He took an unsteady step forward, then another, his stomach churning.

  * * *

  Serena listened to the voice recording on the mobile phone, her mouth dropping open in surprise, as the conversation unfolded. Carl and Asher watched her expression, exchanging excited glances between themselves.

  When the recording had finished, Serena shook her head in amazement.

  Was it possible? Did she finally have the evidence she needed to lock Troy Banks up?

  “Play it again,” she said, and Carl hit the play button at once.

  Serena folded her arms, tense, as if she had imagined what she had heard the first time.

  Dante Cortez’s voice crackled from the phone, loud in the silent boardroom.

  “What’s the difference?” Dante asked. “You’re in here for murder too.”

  “Yeah,” Troy Banks answered.

  “You stabbed that Shaniqua Curtis, right?” Dante asked. There was the creak of a mattress on the recording. “I heard it on the news, when she died.”

  “She cut her eyes at my girlfriend, stupid bitch. She deserved a stabbing.”

  The recording of Troy’s voice seemed to echo off the walls in the silence of the room. His tone was cold, almost boastful. No remorse. Serena swallowed hard.

  “You regret it?” Dante asked.

  “No, man, I’d do it again if I got the chance. They ain’t gonna find me guilty, no way. Then I’ll be out of here, a free man, and I’ll show those who fucking disrespected me what happens when they try and shaft a Banks brother.”

  Serena shivered at his words. It was chilling, but it was also perfect. She had him confessing on tape, in his own words, no coercion. She could not help but smile to herself.

  “Those charges that got dropped, you do them murders too?” Dante asked on the tape. The recording went on.

  “Yeah, that guy, Wright, worked for the Healy brothers. They’ve always been jealous of me and my brothers, wanted some of the respect we got. He overstepped the fucking mark.”

  “How come?”

  “You know, disrespected me. The girl he was with, she was fucking hot man, but she was fucking around with the enemy so she got what was coming to her and all, bullet in the throat.”

  “Damn, that’s cold,” Dante said.

  “Nah man, that’s life,” Troy’s recorded voice said, sounding smug, confident. “Well, life on the Goldsworth anyway.”

  The recording crackled a moment longer and stopped. Serena looked from Carl to Asher and back.

  “What do you think?” Carl asked, as if he needed to. He let out a laugh. “Gold, right?”

  “How did you find it?” Serena asked, unable to help herself.

  “It was confiscated from Dante Cortez’s cell during a search,” Asher answered. “The cell he shared with Troy Banks. It wound up in evidence, and we found it whilst we were going through all of this ready for his trial.”

  He gestured to the boxes and paperwork spread across the table and stacked on chairs.

  Serena could have kissed them both.

  “Do you think its admissible?” she asked, racking her brains.

  “You’ll have to check, but it’s a recorded confession to three murders,” Carl replied. “It at least warrants investigation. No judge is going to ignore something like this, Serena.”

  She knew he was right. She had wanted ammunition to go after Troy, get a warrant for his arrest and then crack him in the interview room. This was exactly what she now had.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she apologised to them before answering.

  “Patterson,” Casey greeted her, his tone urgent. “I thought you should know. There’s been a call about Troy Banks. Somebody’s given up his location.”

  “Where is he?” Serena demanded, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her.

  “He’s still on the Goldsworth Estate,” Casey replied.

  Serena was already heading for the door.

  * * *

  Goldie leant back in his armchair, smiling down at the blonde, his hands on the back of her head. She was making him feel good, and he was paying her enough for it. He would keep her around a few more hours. He wasn’t finished with her yet, not by a long shot.

  Music blared in his bedsit and a redhead lounged on the bed, the sheets tousled and damp beneath her. She would have her turn, Goldie decided. He winked at her, grinning, flashing his gold teeth. She winked back. She was a freebie, and he wondered if she knew that the blonde was only here because he was paying her. The redhead was only here because his reputation had preceded him.

  The guy who had killed Trent Banks. That had earnt him some respect. Well, if not respect, then some kudos at any rate. The redhead had thought as much, and he wasn’t going to complain, not when she looked like she did.

  Blue lights flashed outside the window, but he hardly noticed, too distracted by the blonde. He wound his fingers through her hair and yanked her head back. She looked up at him, surprised, and he grinned down at her.

  “Get on the bed,” he ordered her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and did as he told her, lying down beside the redhead.

  Goldie grinned wider, climbing out of the armchair, crossing the room to join them. His back was to the front door when it splintered off its hinges and police burst into the room. He turned and was thrown to the floor before he could react, the two girls screaming, drowning out the music.

  A policeman had his knee pressed into the small of Goldie’s back as he snapped handcuffs around his wrists.

  “You’re under arrest for the murder of Trent Banks,” the officer shouted over the music and the girls’ screams.

  Goldie gritted his gold teeth as he was hauled off the floor and someone threw his boxers over to him to make himself decent.

  He growled, hardly glancing at the two girls, as he was led from the bedsit.

  * * *

  Brandy stared at the rucksack that now held all her possessions. She had discarded much of the things she owned, knowing she would not need them or miss them. Troy clasped her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

  “We can buy more stuff when we get to Spain,” Troy said quietly, sensing where her thoughts were. “Shorts, flip-flops, that’s all we’ll need.”

  Brandy nodded, knowing he was right. She looked at Troy, saw his forehead lined with worry and she forced a smile. He seemed to relax a little, though the tension remained in her bedroom, the atmosphere thick and oppressive, darkness pressing against the window, the lights of the estate and London blinking into the distance. Brandy tried not to think that this would be the last time she would see this view, the last time she would stand in her room.

  She should not feel sad, she knew, but she could not help but let out a wistful sigh.

  “Don’t be sad babe,” Troy whispered. “We have to look to the future now.”

  “You’re right,” Brandy agreed. She hoisted the small rucksack over the back and picked up her handbag. Troy had his sports bag slung over his shoulder.

  They were ready. Brandy took a deep breath and looked over her room one final time. She would not miss it, she told herself. Nothing in here was worth missing.

  She opened her bedroom door and went out into the corridor, Troy close behind her. Her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. She looked from Brandy to Troy and back, her eyes narrowing.

  “Well look at what the cat dragged in,” she sniggered, glancing back at Troy. “It’s been a while since I saw the two of you together.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Brandy snapped back before she could stop herself.

  Her mother looked at the bags on their shoulders.

  “That’s how it is then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re both fools.”

  With that, she retreated to the kitchen and there was the clinking of bottles as she no doubt
poured herself a vodka. Brandy rolled her eyes. She would not miss her mother, was grateful that she would not have to listen to her or set eyes on her again.

  “Come on, let’s go,” she said to Troy, heading for the front door.

  She hesitated, wondering if she should say goodbye to Frazer. He was her son after all, even if she had not wanted him. No, she decided. She owed him nothing.

  Without a backwards glance, she opened the front door and stepped out into the night. Troy followed, closing the door behind her. They had booked their train tickets online, knew what time they had to be at the station to make it down to the ferry.

  Brandy looked down at the courtyard below, felt Troy do the same. It was good riddance to this shit hole, she thought to herself, wondering if Troy felt the same as her.

  They went down the stairwell, Brandy tasting freedom with each step further from her mother’s flat she went. She felt unburdened now. She would not have to put up with her mother, or Frazer, or Aunt Bo, ever again.

  Troy looked up wistfully towards his own flat, and Brandy felt sympathy for him. He would not get the chance to say goodbye. She wondered if she had any right to feel bad for him when she had kept his son a secret, and then quickly dismissed the thought.

  It was a fresh start for them, a new beginning. She would forget she had ever had a son and Troy would never know the truth. It was a blank slate and they could be whatever they wanted to be once they reached their new lives in Spain.

  They turned the corner and Brandy froze. She felt Troy curse at her side.

  “Going somewhere?” Serena Patterson asked, blocking their path down the alleyway, flanked by uniformed officers on either side of her. She looked from one to the other.

  Brandy span around, felt Troy do the same, but any hope of escape was blocked as two uniformed officers appeared behind them, sliding out of the shadows at the foot of the stairwell.

  “I hate to break up your holiday plans,” Serena said, “But I’m going to need Troy to come down to the station with me. I have a few questions to ask him.”

  * * *

  Troy looked at Serena Patterson’s face and he knew that there was no use in trying to escape. There were too many police and he was sure that Patterson had pulled out all the stops to make sure he could not get away this time. He wondered how she had known where he was, where to find him and what time he would be here.

  He scowled at her. He looked at Brandy’s face as it crumpled with defeat and he felt his heart tearing in his chest as she turned to him, tears welling in her eyes. The hopelessness on her face was no doubt matched on his own.

  They had not even made it off the Goldsworth, let alone built a future together in Spain.

  He had failed her again, had failed himself, everyone.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her. “I’ll be okay, so will you. We’ll be okay.”

  Brandy nodded and sniffed as she slid her hand from his.

  Patterson walked forward, a pair of handcuffs dangling from her finger.

  Troy let out a long sigh and let the sports bag drop from his shoulder to the ground as he turned around, offering no fight, no struggle, as she snapped the cuffs around his wrists.

  “I’m sorry,” Troy said, his eyes on Brandy’s.

  Brandy wiped away her tears, squaring her shoulders defiantly.

  “Me too,” she whispered, taking a step back from him.

  Realisation struck him, tore through his emotions like a cleaver to the chest.

  “Brandy?” he murmured. “You told them? You grassed me up?”

  Once the thought had come to him, it suddenly made perfect sense. She had betrayed him once, had stabbed him in the back before, so why had he expected her to change? How had he let her fool him again?

  He struggled against the handcuffs, but Patterson’s grip on his shoulders were firm.

  “Don’t do this, Banks,” she warned him.

  “You fucking bitch,” Troy shouted, spit flying from his mouth as he stumbled forward, trying to get at Brandy, make her feel his anger. Brandy staggered backwards, flinching at his words. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should have gutted you whilst I had the chance.”

  He spat at her, and Brandy’s lips curled back in disgust as she pressed herself against the wall. Two uniforms came forward to subdue him, but Troy continued to struggle, the cuffs cutting into his wrists as he did.

  “You’ll regret this,” he hissed, eyes flashing as they locked onto Brandy’s. “I’ll make sure you do. You’re going to pay for this, Brandy, trust me on that.”

  Brandy shook her head, the tears gone from her eyes.

  “I never called them, I didn’t grass you up,” Brandy said, her voice thick with emotion, blinking hard against the tears. “But you know what, Troy? Seeing you like this reminds me of how things were before and all the reasons I hated you. I can’t believe I was going to run away with you, throw my life away for you. Whoever did grass you up, I wish I could thank them for stopping me from making a huge mistake. My eyes are open now, and I see you for who you really are.”

  Troy did not know what to say, did not know if she was being honest. His heart crashed in his chest. She had no reason to lie. Perhaps she had not grassed him up after all.

  Brandy did not wait for him to decide, would not hear any apology from him.

  “Never contact me again, Troy,” she said firmly. He saw the hatred in her eyes, written all over her face. She looked appalled by him as she turned away. “We’re finished. Whatever I felt for you is gone. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  * * *

  In her kitchen, Deanna Mason took another swig of vodka from the bottle, leaning heavily against the counter. The liquid no longer burnt her throat, she did not wince at the taste.

  She smacked her lips and left the bottle as she went to the window, looking out into the darkness. She could not see anything from here, but she could imagine what was happening on the ground beneath them.

  The police would have them surrounded and there would be no escape for Troy. Perhaps even now he was being thrown into the back of a police van and dragged off to prison where he belonged. Brandy would be questioned and then she would be back home, just as the man on the phone had promised her.

  Whilst she did not care much about the people Troy had hurt or the lifestyle he emanated, Deanna could not let her daughter become another victim of his. She was a bad mother, she admitted that, but she was not so terrible that she would let Brandy fall prey to a boy like him.

  She had been suspicious as soon as Brandy had brought someone back to her room. She had never done that before, not since the days she had dated Troy. Deanna’s suspicions had been confirmed when she had glimpsed Troy slipping into the bathroom for a shower.

  A drunk and an addict she may be, but she was not a fool.

  When she had realised that Brandy planned to run away with him, Deanna had been left with no choice but to make a phone call. The man she had spoken to had quickly learnt that she was not to be messed around and she had insisted on a guarantee that her daughter would not get into any trouble before she gave up Troy and his location.

  She wondered if Brandy would ever forgive her if she knew, and then realised that she did not much care. Perhaps she had done it to protect Brandy, or perhaps she had done it to punish her for something she could not quite figure out. To stop her being happy in a way that Deanna knew she herself could never be.

  Whatever the reason, Deanna decided, it was done now.

  Closing the kitchen blinds, she snatched up the vodka bottle and took another swig.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Troy folded his arms against his chest and leant back in the plastic chair. Serena Patterson leant forward, elbows propped up on the table between them, her jaw squared, eyes boring into him as if they could see straight through him.

  The interview room was silent except for the click of the tape recorder and the slow, steady breathing across the table. Troy glanced at
his lawyer beside him, wondering whether he was going to swoop in and help him at any point, but the greying man said nothing.

  Beside Serena, another detective watched him closely, his eyes on Troy.

  “Should I repeat the question?” Serena asked, tight-lipped, though she did not appear frustrated. He wondered if she knew something that he did not.

  Troy shrugged at the question. His wrists still ached from the cuffs, but he did not want to show any weakness in front of the detective.

  “Did you receive a visit from Clint Jackson?” Serena repeated.

  Troy looked to his lawyer, who remained silent. He let out a sigh.

  “Nope,” Troy admitted. He saw no point in lying about it. “I don’t think I did.”

  “Really?” Serena asked. “You didn’t argue with him?”

  “Definitely not,” Troy smirked.

  Serena shook her head. Perhaps she was getting frustrated after all, Troy thought.

  “He has given a statement about what happened when he came to your flat.”

  “He’s alive?” Troy asked. Serena raised an eyebrow, and Troy could’ve cursed himself for not controlling his mouth.

  “Yes, he’s recovering from his injuries,” Serena told him. “Why would you think he died? Was it your intention to kill him?”

  “No, no, I didn’t say that,” Troy stammered, shaking his head.

  “My client has not admitted any such thing,” the lawyer said, finally stepping in.

  Troy glared at him, wishing he had someone else beside him, anyone else.

  “You clearly don’t have enough to charge my client with,” the lawyer said, fixing Serena with a beady look. “Otherwise we would not be going around in circles like this.”

  “Oh, I have plenty of other questions if you want to move on from Clint Jackson’s attempted murder,” Serena said.

  Troy wondered what she meant, watching as she brought out a mobile phone in a plastic evidence bag. He recognised the phone. It had been his in prison, but he did not know why she should have possession of it, or why she was smiling as she spoke into the tape.