by D. S. Butler
Linda brushed away a tear as they walked from the church after the service to the graveyard.
Kathleen’s mother was walking with her neighbour, Alice Pringle, who had looped her arm through Mary’s and was supporting her.
Mary Diamond’s face was grey, and she looked like she’d aged twenty years overnight. Linda had done her best over the past week to pop in regularly and make sure Mary and little Jimmy were okay.
All of the neighbours had pitched in. Gossipy, old Alice Pringle had been a surprise. She’d been an absolute angel. She’d cooked Mary dinner every night and listened to her talk about Kathleen for hours.
Linda’s mother was looking after Jimmy today. A funeral was no place for a baby. Linda was determined to do everything she could to help the poor little mite. When he was older, Linda wanted to be able to tell him what his mother had been like. Obviously, she wouldn’t tell him everything. She certainly wouldn’t mention Donovan, but she hoped to let him know how beautiful his mother had been and how much fun and zest for life she’d had.
The poor little lad was going to have to grow up without his mother. It just wasn’t fair.
Linda’s teeth chattered together as she watched them slowly lower Kathleen’s coffin into the hole. The priest was droning on, but Linda couldn’t hear what he was saying over the blood rushing in her ears.
She suddenly had a horrendous image of Kathleen’s body being eaten by maggots and earthworms, and she put a hand to her mouth to smother a sob.
Standing a couple of feet away, Mary let out a pain-filled wail, and Linda moved quickly to take her arm and try to comfort her.
Linda and Alice Pringle supported Mary between them. Mary’s whole body was racked with sobs and Linda heard a woman mutter behind her, “It’s just not right. A mother should never have to bury her child.”
Across London, while Kathleen’s funeral was still in progress, Martin Morton was being questioned by police. This was the second time he’d been brought in, but each time, he made sure his highly-paid solicitor was present.
After each question the Inspector asked, Martin’s brief gave a tight smile and said, “You don’t have to answer that, Mr Morton.”
It seemed forking out a fortune for a top level brief was worth it. Martin really didn’t have to answer many questions at all, which suited him down to the ground.
The police may have suspected him of having a hand in Kathleen’s murder, but they could not dispute the fact he had a perfect alibi.
Martin wasn’t worried. All that linked him to Kathleen was idle gossip. The police would soon realise they didn’t have enough evidence for a case and would be forced to drop the matter completely, at least, that’s what his brief had advised.
He should have known it was too easy. Just when he thought the questioning was all over, the Inspector dropped a bombshell.
“Have you heard Keith Parker’s body has been found?”
Martin tried to keep his face blank, but he could feel the confident grin slipping from his mouth. “Keith Parker? Well, that’s a blast from the past. I thought he’d gone to Manchester.”
The Inspector nodded. “Yes, that’s what you told the police when he went missing. We wasted a lot of police hours searching for him in the Manchester area, and all this time, he was rotting under a pile of leaves in Epping Forest.”
The Inspector watched Martin for a reaction, but if he was expecting to see guilt or remorse, he was out of luck. Martin didn’t give a toss about a small-timer like Keith Parker. He’d double-crossed him, and so he’d paid. That’s the way it worked.
Keith had been well aware of the risk when he decided to start working with Dave Carter at the same time as Martin.
“Do you have any further information regarding Keith Parker’s murder?”
Martin rolled his eyes. That was the trouble with coppers these days. They expected everyone to confess so they didn’t have to do any real work.
“Like I said, I thought he was up in Manchester. Maybe he died of natural causes,” Martin added cheekily.
“A bullet through the brain is hardly natural causes.”
Martin shrugged. “True enough. Well, as lovely as this chat has been, I do have work to do. So if we’re done today, I’d like to leave.”
Inspector Peel stood aside to let him pass, and Martin could feel the intensity of the man’s gaze.
Martin walked out of the interview room and paused beside the custody desk to deliver his most dazzling smile to the Inspector in charge of the case.
Inspector Peel turned his large, hooded eyes on Martin. “You haven’t gotten away with this yet, Morton. You’d better watch your step.”
Martin grinned, delighted to have riled the Inspector. “Was that a threat, officer? Maybe my solicitor would be interested in hearing what you just said?”
The Inspector’s face screwed up in distaste as he studied Martin Morton.
Martin felt his hackles rise. Inspector Peel had no right to look down at him.
Some of the fools working at this station thought they were something special, but Martin had a couple of high-ranking officers on the payroll, and he was sure most of the rest of them were bent, too. The more bent coppers, the better as far as Martin was concerned. As Big Tim was fond of saying, there was nothing so dangerous as a clean copper.
Martin would very much have liked to teach Inspector Peel a lesson, but common sense told him he would be better letting the whole thing go.
Having a girl murdered and dumping her body in the canal was nothing compared to the bother of having a squeaky clean copper on his tail. And right now, Martin didn’t need any more enemies.
He needed all these distractions out of the way so he could concentrate on wiping out Dave Carter.
Once he got rid of Dave Carter, Martin would have more money coming in, which meant more coppers on the payroll. That meant that he would be practically untouchable. Maybe when he got to that stage, Martin would come back and teach Inspector Peel a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
Chapter 56
That evening, after the last of the guests had left, Mary Diamond walked into the kitchen. Alice, Linda and a couple of Mary’s other neighbours had worked tirelessly to clean up after the wake, and there was hardly a sign in the kitchen that anything out of the ordinary had happened that day.
Jimmy was asleep upstairs in his crib, and the house was quiet. Too quiet. Mary missed Kathleen’s voice. She even missed the sound of her records.
Linda had offered to stay the night again, but Mary told her to go home. She was a good girl but, she had her own life to be getting on with. She had to work at Bevels every day, and the last thing a girl of her age should be doing was worrying about Mary. Linda had her own grief to deal with.
Mary sat down at the table and poured herself a cup of tea. She stared down at the steam and tried to think things through.
She wasn’t getting any younger, and now she had little Jimmy to worry about. Of course, she was glad she had him. Every time she looked at him, she thought he looked more and more like her lost daughter.
The colour of his eyes was changing now, going from that lovely blue that all babies seemed to have, to a deeper shade — almost violet— just like Kathleen’s.
She didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t have Jimmy’s welfare to focus on. She’d probably have fallen apart.
The situation was utterly hopeless. Sometimes she felt she’d never be able to get back at Martin Morton for what he’d done. She still suffered from flashes of uncontrollable rage, but that red-hot fury had dissipated and had been replaced with a cold, intense hatred of the man.
Mary might not be able to get her revenge yet, but she would one day.
She’d heard talk about men for hire who would kill or maim your enemy, but Mary couldn’t afford anything like that, especially not with the baby to look after.
Mary sipped her tea. She hadn’t been able to stomach any food, despite the fact that her neighbours had been
pushing sandwiches and sausage rolls at her all day. She’d taken the plates of food politely and then dumped them in the kitchen.
But she was going to have to start looking after herself. She had to live long enough to see Jimmy grow into a man.
One step at a time, that’s all she could do. Life would never go back to normal, but somehow she would have to get through it.
Mary heaved herself to her feet. Even her bones felt tired. She intended to put a drop of whisky in her tea to help her sleep. No doubt Jimmy would be up at the crack of dawn. There would be no time to mope in bed feeling sorry for herself.
When she heard the front door creak open, Mary assumed it was Linda popping in to check on her again.
Mary sighed. “Really, love, I told you I’d be fine, and I will. You don’t need to keep checking up on me.”
But when she heard footsteps in the hallway, Mary knew something wasn’t quite right.
The footsteps were heavy…far too heavy to be Linda’s.
As Mary looked up, her heart skipped a beat and then began to thunder in her chest.
There, looming in the doorway of her kitchen, was Big Tim, one of Martin Morton’s most feared henchmen, and the man Mary strongly suspected of killing her precious Kathleen.
“Where’s the baby?” Tim’s gravelly voice was almost a whisper.
Adrenaline flooded Mary system. This man had killed her daughter, but there was no way he was going to get his hands on her grandson. Over her dead body.
Mary lunged towards the sink. A sharp carving knife glinted on the draining board. She grabbed hold of the handle and turned around, brandishing it at Tim.
“Don’t you come near us, you murdering bastard.”
She slashed the knife in front of her, the blade just inches away from Tim’s chest.
“I’ll slit your bloody throat,” Mary snarled at him.
Big Tim’s blank face remained impassive, and in one quick movement, he grabbed Mary by the wrist and twisted her arm painfully until she dropped the knife.
He kicked the blade across the floor.
Mary struggled fiercely. He might be ten times stronger than she was, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for the bastard. As he wrapped his huge arms around her, stifling her movements, a fleeting, happy thought flashed through Mary’s mind: she would soon see Kathleen again.
“Sit down,” Tim demanded, shoving Mary into one of the kitchen chairs.
He held her in place for a few seconds while Mary got her breath back.
“There’s no point struggling,” he said. “I’m here to warn you off, not to kill you.”
“Like you killed my Kathleen, you mean,” Mary spat at him. Her whole body was trembling with absolute fury.
Big Tim didn’t deny it, but he let go of Mary’s shoulders and walked around the table to take the seat opposite her.
Mary eyed him warily, not trusting him for a moment.
“The baby is not here, anyway. A friend is looking after him while I get myself together,” Mary lied.
She hoped Big Tim didn’t check upstairs after he’d finished her off and prayed Jimmy stayed silent in his crib.
Tim bowed his head. “Officially, I’m here to warn you off.”
When he looked up at Mary, she was surprised to see tears were glistening in the corner of his eyes.
Mary glared back at him but said nothing.
“You need to get out of here, Mary,” Big Tim said. “Martin is not going to forget the things you said in his club. You can’t say those sorts of things and expect him not to retaliate.”
“Retaliate? The bastard had my daughter killed. You’d better believe I’m going to retaliate.”
Tim sighed. Then he shook his huge head and looked into Mary’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “You can’t win with someone like Martin Morton. He’s ruthless. He sent me around here today. Please, think about moving away with the boy, somewhere you’ll be out of harm’s way.”
“What?”
Mary shook her head. Where on earth could she go? She’d lived in the area all her life. She only just managed to support herself by working on the market stalls as and when she was needed. So how could she move away with no money and no job? At least here she had a roof over her head.
Besides, Mary wanted to be around to see Martin’s downfall and make sure he suffered.
“He wouldn’t really do anything to hurt his own son, would he?” Mary asked even though she knew the answer to her question already.
Tim took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t put anything past him. If I were you, I would get that child as far away from him as I could.”
Tim stood up and made his way towards the door.
“What? Is that it?” Mary scraped her chair along the floor as she stood up quickly.
When Tim put his large hand on the front door, he turned back to face Mary. “I really hope this is it, Mary. I don’t want to see you again. If you care anything for that baby, you’ll get him somewhere safe. Next time, the warning won’t be so gentle.”
Big Tim walked out the front door and shut it behind him.
Mary stood in the hallway waiting for her speeding pulse to slowly come back down to normal.
He was right. Jimmy wasn’t safe here. But how on earth was she going to get him out of the East End and support him without a job. Mary wandered back into the kitchen, picked up her cold cup of tea and carried the cup and saucer to the sink.
As she washed up, she considered her options. She couldn’t leave Poplar, but that didn’t mean Jimmy couldn’t. She had a friend who lived out in Romford. He would be safe there.
It would kill Mary not to be able to see him every day, but if that was what was best for the child, and if that kept him safe, she would have to bear it.
Her friend, Bev, had lived just two streets away before she’d moved out to Romford with her husband five years ago. Her husband had passed away a couple of years ago, and Mary knew Bev had been lonely. Would she take Jimmy? It was one hell of an ask, and Mary wouldn’t be able to pay her a fortune toward the boy’s keep. There was only one way to find out. Mary would have to go to Romford and ask for Bev’s help.
As Mary dried her hands, she looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll do everything I can to take care of him, darling. I promise you that much.”
With a heavy heart, Mary trudged upstairs to bed.
Chapter 57
Charlie had spent the last week collecting rat droppings from the rat he’d named Roland.
He selected the driest droppings and then opened his pouch of tobacco and crumbled the droppings on top. When he’d used up most of the droppings, he mixed the contents up carefully and inspected the package.
He would never notice the difference, Charlie thought with a grin.
He hobbled up from the bed. The bruises around his ribs had almost gone, but they still felt tender, a timely reminder of just how much he hated Alfie Harris. He stuffed the package of tobacco in the pocket of his trousers and then wandered off to the washroom where he washed his hands thoroughly with soap and water. The soap was a little better there, not much, but at least, it created a few suds.
He then headed off towards the recreation room, which was really just a wide corridor between the two wings of the men’s prison.
Alfie was sitting at a table playing cards with some of his cronies when Charlie approached.
One of the men sitting next to Alfie laughed. “Well, look who it is. He’s come back for more.”
Alfie Harris turned his weasel-like face towards Charlie. “What do you want?”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just wanted to clear the air.”
Alfie sneered at him, but Charlie pressed on. He set the packet of tobacco on the table in front of Alfie. “A peace offering.”
Alfie smiled up at him and gave him an evil-looking smirk. He obviously thought he had Charlie Williams just where he wanted him. Running scared. He had pegged Charlie as another prisoner h
e could bully and extort.
Despite his intense dislike of the man, Charlie managed to smile pleasantly. “No strings,” he said. “I just thought it was a nice gesture.”
Alfie smirked and put his thin, veiny hand over the packet of tobacco. He hesitated a moment and then snatched it up and stuffed it in the breast pocket of his prison uniform. “It will take more than that to buy my goodwill, son.”
Charlie wanted to laugh. It had worked.
“I realise that, Mr. Harris,” he said with mock sincerity. “But it’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?”
Charlie could hardly suppress his laughter as he walked away from Alfie Harris.
The stupid fool had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. He walked over to another table and took a seat beside two young lads who were starting a game of rummy.
“Want to join?” one of them asked Charlie.
Charlie nodded as he sat down. “Go on then, deal me in for the next hand.”
But Charlie didn’t look up as the cards were dealt. His eyes were still fixed on Alfie Harris.
Alfie had opened up the pouch and was peering inside. He took a large pinch of the tobacco mixed with rat droppings and sprinkled it on a cigarette paper. He rolled it up expertly and then raised it to his lips.
Charlie held his breath.
They weren’t allowed matches or lighters in the prison, so a prison guard had to come over and light it with a match for him.
The prison guard lit the cigarette, and Alfie took a deep breath in.
Charlie put a hand over his mouth to suppress his sniggers as Alfie breathed out the white smoke and then coughed a couple of times.
Alfie stared at the cigarette. “It’s strong stuff. I reckon it must be foreign,” he said to the prison guard before shrugging and raising the roll-up to his lips and inhaling again.
Charlie laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, and the two blokes he was sitting next to looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
That was prison for you, Charlie thought. A man had to make his own entertainment.