Picturing Gina’s naked body, Eddie smiled. Facially she was a ringer for the famous Page Three girl, Linda Lusardi, everybody said so. She was tall, with long, dark hair, legs up to her armpits and a pair of tits to die for. Feeling himself getting harder, Ed lifted the quilt, looked underneath it and smiled. He might be fifty-three, but his king-sized attribute was still in fine working order. Seconds later, Ed heard an enormous crash coming from downstairs. His erection deflated like a burst balloon and he gingerly got out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat he kept underneath it. Ever since he’d been a young man, Ed had slept with a gun nearby, but recent events had made him hide it away from the cottage. Another long stretch for a firearms charge was the last thing he needed.
Eddie put on a pair of shorts and crept down the wooden stairs. He held the bat firmly in his right hand, ready to strike if need be. Daylight was just breaking, so he could easily see where he was going without falling arse over head. The front door was shut, so Ed moved cautiously towards the kitchen. He could have sworn that he’d heard the sound of breaking glass and, if that was the case, the kitchen was the easiest form of entry for an intruder. He checked the windows and door; there was nothing untoward, so he headed into the lounge. Ed’s stomach lurched as he spotted the culprit. His dad’s framed photo that hung on the wall opposite Jessica’s had, for no apparent reason, fallen onto the floor and smashed.
Eddie sat on the sofa and put his head in his hands. It must be a sign, a sign that his father disagreed with his decision-making. Well, he couldn’t go through with what he had arranged now, not after this, and if it turned out to be his own poisoned chalice, then so fucking be it.
Joey Mitchell dried himself with a towel, then looked at his watch in dismay. He liked to have a strong coffee in St Paul’s before he ventured into work, but he was running late this morning, so wouldn’t have bloody time.
Dominic had an important meeting with an investor up in Hammersmith at lunchtime and was still lying in his pit. As the phone rang, Dom answered the one in the bedroom.
‘Joey, it’s your nan,’ he shouted.
‘Tell her I’ll ring her later,’ Joey yelled back.
Stark bollock naked, Dominic ran out of the bedroom with the phone in his hand. ‘You’d better talk to her now, Joey, she sounds in a right old state.’
Silently cursing his dysfunctional family, Joey snatched the phone. ‘What’s the matter, Nan?’
‘Your grandad’s gone. He went last night.’
Feeling his legs go from beneath him, Joey sank onto the bed. ‘Oh my God! What did he die of?’ he whispered, tears forming in his eyes.
‘He ain’t bleedin’ dead, although I wish the bastard was. He’s gone, left home, wants a divorce, the silly old sod. You’re gonna have to come over, Joey. I can’t stop in this house on me own. I’ve already had a large brandy and I’m worried I’ll do something silly and end up back in that nuthouse again.’
‘I can’t come over, Nan. I’m really busy at work at the moment and I need to go in.’
Joyce was an expert at making people feel guilty – she’d practised for years on Stanley. ‘Oh well, if your job’s more important than your poor old nan, best you get off. But, if and when something bad happens to me, don’t you dare come crying round my grave. If you do, I shall come back and fuckin’ well haunt ya.’
Joey felt his conscience pricking him. ‘Can’t you ring Raymond, Nan? My boss will kill me if I don’t go in today.’
‘Already rung him. Since that tart of his has been up the spout, he’s had no time for his poor old mum whatsoever. He says he’s got an important meeting with your father. Knowing what a lying bastard Raymond is lately, I bet his important meeting is at one of them poncy antenatal clinics with that stuck-up prat he married.’
Joey sighed. The last time his grandad had left home, his nan had completely lost the plot and ended up in Warley Hospital. If that were to happen again, Joey knew he would never forgive himself for not being there when she needed him. ‘Don’t drink no more, Nan. I’ll ring work, tell ’em I’m ill and I’ll be with you within the hour.’
After he’d found his father’s photograph lying horizontal on the living-room carpet, Eddie had knocked back a large brandy to calm his fragile nerves. He had then taken it upon himself to call an emergency meeting. None of the lads were very happy at being woken at 7 a.m., but that was tough shit; he was the boss and he called the shots.
As per usual, Eddie had ordered the meeting to be held at his Auntie Joanie’s house. These days he would never chance any of their important gatherings being held anywhere but. He was too worried about the Old Bill; they weren’t so backward as they used to be. The filth had been well pissed off when the jury had found him not guilty of the murder and manslaughter charges against Jessica. He’d still done bird for unlawful possession of a firearm but knowing how desperate the rozzers were to lock him up and throw away the key, Ed would never put it past the bastards to bug his, Gary’s, Ricky’s or Raymond’s home addresses. Joanie’s house was by no means foolproof, but it was definitely the best for security purposes and also better than meeting in a café or some poxy boozer.
Ed had called the meeting for 9 a.m. He had to meet O’Hara at twelve in Upminster, so he’d had no choice but to call it on so early. Due to the decrepit state of the A13, Eddie arrived at his aunt’s at twenty to ten. Joanie answered the door and, pushed for time, Ed gave her a quick peck on the cheek and darted straight up the stairs.
‘Shall I make you a pot of tea and some sarnies?’ Joanie shouted out.
‘No thanks, Auntie. We’re fine, sweetheart,’ Eddie replied.
Raymond, Gary and Ricky were already sitting around the big mahogany table with glum expressions on their faces. Gary and Ricky had both been on the piss until the early hours and felt like crap, and Raymond had had an earful from Polly, as he’d had to tell her that something important had cropped up and he couldn’t attend the antenatal clinic with her.
‘This better be fucking important, Dad,’ Gary said, thoroughly pissed off that he’d been woken so early then his old man had had the audacity to turn up late.
Eddie grabbed a bottle of Scotch from the bar and ordered everybody to drink one.
‘For Christ’s sake, Ed. It ain’t even ten o’clock. I was meant to go somewhere with Polly and she’ll annihilate me if I go home smelling of booze.’
Not in the mood for Raymond’s marital issues, Eddie knocked back his drink in record time and slammed the empty glass on the table. ‘Fuck Polly, this is business and what I’ve got to say is far more important than anything your old woman will say to ya later.’
Raymond immediately shut up and, as Ed began to tell the story of what he’d agreed with Jimmy O’Hara, Gary and Ricky sat open mouthed.
‘So, when your grandfather’s picture fell off the wall, I just knew I’d done the wrong thing. Call it fate, but I know now I can’t go through with it,’ Ed said remorsefully, concluding the tale.
Ricky knocked back his Scotch and looked at his father in outright disgust. ‘How could you pay to arrange your own brothers’ deaths in the first place? That is sick, Dad, fucking proper sick. Say O’Hara gets to them somehow?’
Gary shook his head in disbelief. ‘I know Paulie and Ronny are a pair of useless cunts, but they’re still family, Dad.’
‘Yes, I know they’re family, but they ballsed up, not us. All I was trying to do was keep the rest of us safe. O’Hara ain’t gonna let this rest, you know. If he can’t get to them, he’ll come for us, I just fuckin’ know he will.’
Gary gave a sadistic smirk. ‘Worried about your new fancy piece, are ya?’ he asked sarcastically.
As Eddie grabbed his eldest son by the neck, Raymond intervened and dragged Eddie away. ‘For fuck’s sake, arguing and fighting amongst ourselves ain’t gonna solve this, is it? Let’s get a grip and sort this out sensibly, shall we?’
Ray turned to Gary and Ricky. They were good lads, but they were also playboys
. Gary was twenty-nine now and Ricky twenty-seven. They were both handsome boys, but neither had settled down. Therefore, they had no idea about what it was like to worry about a wife or kids.
‘Your father has got a point, you know. If anything happened to my Polly or the baby, I couldn’t deal with it. Yous two are single: once you settle down and have kids of your own, you’ll understand where your dad’s coming from.’
Gary shrugged. He had no intention of settling down. Tarts were a pain in the arse and ‘love ’em and leave ’em’, was his motto. ‘So what happens now, then? Are you just not gonna turn up to meet O’Hara?’
Eddie rubbed the stubble on his face. He used slow movements from his cheeks to his chin like he often did when he was deep in thought. ‘I’ve got the dosh on me. I think I should still meet O’Hara and pay him the thirty grand. It sounds big bucks but it’s peanuts to me. Let him think he’s still got a deal. He won’t get to Ronny and Paulie, not if I put the word about.’
‘And how you gonna stop him fuckin’ getting to ’em?’ Ricky asked wisely.
‘Ginger Mick, Lee Adams, Scouse Lenny – they’re all banged up in Belmarsh and they all owe me a favour or two. I’ll get word to Paulie and Ronny to spend as much time as possible inside their cells. Any time they come out, I’ll have someone watch their backs.’
‘It’s an impossibility to get someone to watch over Ronny and Paulie all the time, Dad. I mean, how do you know that your pals are even on the same wing as them?’
‘Because I made phone calls on the way here. Flatnose Freddie knows everything; he also told me that Paulie and Ronny are sharing a cell. He reckons if they hadn’t have spilled their guts to the filth, the system would have definitely split ’em up, but they did, so no one cares. Also, the screws don’t wanna be bothered clearing up Ronny’s shit and piss. They ain’t got a lot of time for cripples, I know that for a fact. That poor raspberry who was a few cells away from me in Wandsworth, the one that had strangled his mother, he was left to rot. That’s why Paulie is sharing with Ronny; the authorities want Paulie to take care of the cunt, save them a job.’
Raymond was worried, very worried. ‘Jimmy O’Hara ain’t no mug, Ed. I know he’s been out the frame for a few years, but don’t underestimate him. His son and grandkid have been killed, for Christ’s sake and he ain’t gonna be happy if he can’t get revenge of some kind.’
Eddie poured himself another large Scotch. ‘Look, these pikeys are backward bastards deep down. There is no way O’Hara will think I’ve parted with thirty grand if I ain’t in agreement of the deal. Yes, in the end, chances are he will clock on, but for now the dough should be enough to keep the mug sweet.’
Raymond shook his head. He had the same feeling as he’d had the night that Jessica had died. This was a bad idea and he half-wished he’d stuck it out in the jewellery trade and never come back to the family firm. ‘When Jimmy O’Hara finds out you’ve crossed him, he’ll come gunning for you, Ed,’ he warned.
Eddie looked at his watch and stood up. ‘Not if I go gunning for him first, he won’t.’
Gary smashed a fist onto the table. ‘Why are we giving these pikeys the time of day? Why don’t we just get rid of the whole lot of ’em in one fell swoop, Jed included?’
‘Because of them kids. Once Frankie is out, we can do what we want, but if we strike now, not only will the Old Bill know that we’re behind the O’Hara’s disappearance, there’s a good chance Georgie and Harry will be taken into care. The filth have got it in for me big time, they always have had, and more so since Jessica’s death. James Fitzgerald Smythe reckons he can get Frankie off her charge and I believe him,’ Eddie replied.
‘You’re off your head. Frankie admitted to what she’d done and won’t even tell no one what really happened. She’s going down, I know she is,’ Ricky reminded his father.
Eddie stood up. He truly believed that it was not the snapped string on the frame that had caused his father’s photograph to crash to the floor; he believed it was a sign from above. It was Harry Mitchell’s way of telling him that what he was about to do was wrong and, with his dad’s guidance, Ed knew things would work out OK. ‘I’ve gotta go and meet O’Hara now. We’ll talk again later in the week.’
Full of his usual self-assurance, Eddie ignored the worried looks that were being thrown his way and bowled confidently out of the door.
Joey snatched the glass of brandy out of his grandmother’s hand. He darted out to the kitchen, poured it down the sink and then gave her what for. He hadn’t lost a day off work to watch her drink herself to death.
‘Drink is what sent you loopy the last time, Nan. Now tell me exactly what happened and I’ll help you find Grandad,’ he said kindly, as he sat back down on the sofa.
‘I don’t wanna find him. I hope the nasty old bastard rots in hell,’ Joyce replied dramatically.
Joey smiled. He could see through his nan’s façade, her hard exterior. Deep down she loved his grandad and even though she rarely had a good word to say about him, she was a lost soul without him.
‘Shall I ring Jock? My guess is that Grandad’s stopping with him. What happened anyway? You haven’t even told me yet, Nan.’
Joycie finally broke down as she repeated what had happened and the names Stanley had called her. ‘I only went to meet Eddie so I could sort things out between you and him. I wanted you and your dad to get on ’cause I know your mum would have wanted it,’ she wept.
Joey put both of his arms around his nan and held her tightly. Stanley Smith was a weak man and his nan would never have lasted that many years married to a man with more balls. She was a woman who liked to have the final say, make the decisions, and a stronger man would have divorced her yonks ago.
‘I’ll ring Jock now. Is his number in your address book?’ Joey asked.
Joyce nodded tearfully. ‘He must be at Jock’s, ’cause he took them stinking, bastard pigeons with him,’ she said.
Joey released his nan’s grip, stood up, flicked through her address book and dialled Jock’s number. ‘Hiya Jock, it’s Joey, Stanley’s grandson. Is my grandad there? Only I’m at my nan’s house and she wants to speak to him.’
Joey listened to Jock’s reply and instantly felt rather nauseous. He couldn’t leave his nan alone until his grandad returned, and he had his own bloody life to be getting on with.
‘Well, can you make some phone calls, see if you can find out where he’s gone, Jock?’ Joey thanked Jock for his co-operation, then replaced the receiver and turned to Joyce.
‘He’s not there. Jock said they had a big row at some restaurant and he hasn’t seen or heard from Grandad since.’
Joyce shot off the sofa as though someone had put a bullet up her arse. She had noticed Stanley acting strangely a lot recently; he kept disappearing at lunchtimes, saying he was going for a ‘little drive’, and she could have sworn blind she’d smelled women’s perfume on his clothes two or three times in the past few months. She walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a brandy for the shock.
‘Please, Nan, don’t drink any more,’ Joey pleaded.
‘Don’t fuckin’ drink any more! I need a bastard drink. Your grandfather has gone and got himself a bit of fluff, Joey, and when I find out who the old slapper is, I’m gonna wring her bleedin’ neck until her tits fall off. Little drive! I’ll show him what a little drive is when I drive that knife straight through his bollocks.’
Eddie Mitchell grinned as he heard Gina’s car pull up outside. He deemed himself too cool to run outside to meet her, but he was no good without a woman by his side and to say he had missed her was putting it mildly.
The handover with O’Hara had gone to plan. There had been few words exchanged. Jimmy had pulled up in a pick-up truck, Eddie had got out of his own motor, handed him the dosh, then walked way and driven off. O’Hara had smirked when the dosh was handed over to him, Ed had clocked that, but he wasn’t worried, as he knew he would have the last laugh. ‘Good things come to those w
ho wait,’ his dad used to say.
When the front door opened, Ed walked into the hallway.
‘I have missed you so much, Eddie,’ Gina said, as she threw herself into his arms.
Eddie grinned, then kissed her passionately. He only had to look at her to feel his dick go rock hard. ‘Let’s go to bed, eh?’ he whispered.
Usually, Gina would have run up the stairs, but not only was she ravenous, she also had something on her mind that had been plaguing her for the last few days. ‘As much as I fancy you Ed, we need to talk first. I’m also starving. Have you been shopping or shall we get a takeaway?’
Thrown by the matter-of-fact tone in Gina’s voice, Eddie lifted her chin with his hand and stared deep into her dark-brown eyes. ‘You ain’t gonna fuck me off, are ya? Don’t tell me the first bit of agg we’ve had, you’re bolting, babe.’
Gina looked at Eddie’s handsome face. No, she wasn’t impressed by being shoved off to her friend Claire’s house for weeks, but she loved Ed dearly and would never leave him, no matter what he did.
‘Ed, I love you more than I love myself. How can you even ask such a thing?’
Eddie pushed her long, dark hair away from her forehead. ‘Something’s wrong, I know it is. Tell me.’
Gina smiled. Nothing was wrong, everything was right, but for once it wasn’t just herself she was having to think about, it was another little person. ‘There’s nothing wrong. I’m pregnant, Ed.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Terry Baldwin sat in the Thatched House in Barking with a glum expression and a pint of Guinness. His wonderful grandson’s murder had left Terry stunned and heartbroken. He’d fucking loved that kid, idolised every hair on his little head.
The Victim Page 6