Payback

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘What’s Jamie meant to have done?’ Shirley asked.

  ‘Nothing, as far as we know. We just need to ask him some questions, that’s all,’ Smithers replied.

  ‘Follow me. He’s in his bedroom. I’ve only just got back from Chrisp Street, which is why that little sod has his music blaring. Is that why you’re here? The neighbours have all complained about him playing loud music when I go out, but he never does it of a night when I’m home. Teenagers will be teenagers, won’t they?’

  Having been led to believe that his nan would not be back until after teatime as she was meant to go shopping then visit a friend, Jamie was singing along happily to The Jam’s ‘Eton Rifles’ as he carefully cut out all the latest articles about Molly from today’s newspapers.

  Shirley burst into her grandson’s bedroom. ‘Turn that racket off. These policemen want to talk to you. What you been up to, eh?’

  Jamie went as white as a ghost as one of the policemen walked towards him, then stared at the newspaper cutting in his trembling right hand.

  ‘Well well, this looks interesting. What’s your surname, lad?’

  ‘Preston – but this isn’t what it looks like. I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear,’ Jamie babbled.

  The name Preston was the final piece in the jigsaw for Smithers. ‘Jamie Preston, I am arresting you on suspicion of the abduction of Molly Butler. You do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say—’

  It was at that point Shirley Preston fainted.

  Dickie Murray worked long hours, so as soon as he arrived home the first thing he did was take his beloved Alsatian Rex for a long walk.

  Wallis Road and the pockets of land that lay beyond it could be quite an eerie place at the best of times, especially if darkness was falling. The River Lea ran nearby, and if you headed north it was not that far from Hackney Marshes. There was a lot of overgrown wasteland, some of which had been taken over by gypsies and scrap-metal merchants.

  ‘Come on, Rex. This way,’ Dickie ordered as his dog began to bark ferociously.

  Dickie had never known his dog to totally blank him when he gave a command, so he walked back to where Rex was. Still barking, he was now frantically digging as well. ‘What you found, boy?’ Dickie asked fondly. His dog was forever burying bones in the garden, then digging them back up again.

  As Dickie stared at what Rex had found, his mouth went dry and his heart started to pound.

  It looked like the arm of a small child.

  Dickie bent down to take a closer look. He could now clearly see four fingers and a thumb attached to the arm. Wondering if it was a doll or some kind of dummy a joker had buried for a laugh, he touched the hand – then let out a scream as he recoiled in horror.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Kimmy and Lindsey Pollard were still squabbling over the doll they had found. ‘It’s mine because I saw it first,’ Kimmy said, trying to snatch it out of her sister’s hand.

  Lindsey tightened her grip on her find. ‘No, it’s mine, because I picked it up. You didn’t even know what it was.’

  Aware of a commotion going on in the lounge, Sarah Pollard stormed in to find out what her daughters were arguing about. ‘Where did you get that?’ she asked, as soon as she laid eyes on the doll.

  ‘I found it, Mum, but Kimmy reckons she did. I picked it up, so it’s mine.’

  ‘But I saw it first. I told you to pick it up,’ Lindsey insisted.

  Sarah Pollard bent down and took the doll out of Lindsey’s hands. She had watched all the news reports about Molly Butler and she knew this was the same type of doll that the police had asked the public to look out for, as she had been planning on purchasing two for her daughters for Christmas. ‘Where did you find this, girls?’

  Kimmy and Lindsey glanced at one another. Both were scared to tell the truth in case their mum told their dad. ‘Just in a street,’ Kimmy mumbled.

  ‘What street? This is very important. You know that poor little girl that has gone missing? Well, I think this might be her doll. I won’t be angry if you have been visiting those horses again. But you must tell me exactly where you found this, as I need to tell the police and we mustn’t lie to them.’

  Lindsey started to cry. ‘You won’t tell Dad if we tell you, will you?’

  ‘No. But you must tell me the truth. That little girl who is missing needs to be found.’

  ‘We found the doll over the fields where the horses are, Mum. We wasn’t doing anything wrong. We just bought some carrots because the horses look starving,’ Kimmy explained.

  Sarah held her daughters in her arms. ‘I’m going to phone the police now and you might need to show them the exact spot you found this doll, OK?’

  Thankful that their mum was not angry with them, Kimmy and Lindsey both nodded.

  Having recovered from her initial shock, Shirley Preston was sitting by her grandson’s side at the police station. He was flanked on the other side by a solicitor. Jamie was proclaiming his innocence, swearing that he’d had nothing to do with Molly’s disappearance, and for once Shirley actually believed him. Jamie might be a lot of things, and he had got himself put away for stabbing a boy in an argument. But Shirley did not believe he was capable of snatching a young child, even if that kid did belong to Vinny Butler.

  About to start the interview, Smithers was called out of the room by a colleague. ‘Guv, a woman’s just rung up saying she’s got Molly’s doll. Says her daughters found it over the pockets of land that back onto Wallis Road. It sounds viable – it’s just a stone’s throw from Victoria Park. That’s the area the dog section were planning to search tomorrow.’

  ‘Send somebody straight round there. If the doll is identical to Molly’s, we need her daughters to show us the exact spot they found it.’

  When Dickie Murray finally arrived home, both he and Rex were panting. Neither were used to running these days. Rex was ten, which was seventy in canine years and Dickie was fifty-eight himself.

  ‘I’ll get you your dinner in a minute, boy,’ Dickie said. His hands were still trembling when he picked up the phone. It wasn’t every day you went for a walk and found what he was sure was a dead child buried in a very shallow grave.

  When the operator answered, Dickie took a deep breath. ‘Police, please. It’s urgent.’

  Back at the police station, Smithers and Townsend were grilling Jamie Preston. ‘Look, I admit I was outside the club the day Molly went missing. I even saw her go into the club. But I never took her, I swear.’

  ‘So, why was you there then? And why are you cutting out articles about Molly’s disappearance? Come on, Jamie, this isn’t looking good for you, is it? Just be honest and tell us where Molly is.’

  ‘I don’t know where Molly is. I was at the club to pay my respects to my brother, Mark. He died there, in a fire, and the day I was sat there would have been his eighteenth birthday.’

  ‘He’s telling the truth. It would have been Mark’s eighteenth birthday,’ Shirley chipped in.

  ‘But why cut out articles about Molly? You must have had a reason to do that, Jamie? Very strange thing to do, isn’t it?’

  Shirley was beside herself with worry. Her house was currently being searched and she prayed the police found no more evidence to link her grandson to Molly. ‘Why did you cut the articles out, Jamie? Tell the policeman the truth,’ she urged.

  Before Jamie had a chance to answer, the door burst open. ‘Boss, I need you now. It’s important.’

  Smithers leapt up and dashed out of the room. The look on his colleague’s face was the giveaway.

  ‘Has Molly been found?’

  ‘Looks that way. A dog walker has just reported finding what he thinks is the body of a young child buried in a shallow grave.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘The wasteland that backs onto Wallis Road. The search team and dog section are heading over there right now.’

  Tarkan Smith was not your average name for a Turkish guy. His
mother Aysel had married an Englishman called Reggie, which was why he had been landed with such an unusual mixture of names.

  Ahmed had done plenty of business with Tarkan in the past and not once had he had an issue. He did now though. It was Tarkan who had recommended and introduced Carl Thompson to him, which was why Ahmed was now sitting stony-faced opposite Tarkan in a pub in Islington. ‘You must have a previous address for Carl? He’s done a fucking runner and could cause me major problems if not found.’

  ‘Carl’s always been a guy who moves about a lot. He’s a bit of a mystery, but he’s trustworthy. I know at least four other people he has done business with and nobody has ever had a problem with him. What exactly has happened?’

  When Ahmed explained in a roundabout way without mentioning names or a missing child, Tarkan tutted. ‘I did warn you before I introduced you to Carl that he was no pushover. You should have just paid him off, Ahmed. It wasn’t his fault that the job couldn’t be completed.’

  ‘And it wasn’t mine either. I gave Carl fifteen grand up front and told him clearly that the balance of his money would be paid on completion of the job. Due to unforeseen circumstances, the job had to be called off. Carl is still fifteen grand better off and has been living rent-free ever since we set this deal up. I also paid the bills at the flat, so Carl hasn’t done bad out of this, Tarkan.’

  ‘Yes, but if Carl was relying on that money to buy a bar in Spain, he won’t be best pleased.’

  ‘You are speaking about him as if he is some big shot, Tarkan. That obviously cannot be the case as big shots have money. Carl is a fucking pauper; else he wouldn’t be relying on my thirty-five grand to buy his poxy bar in Spain.’

  ‘Carl would be worth a fortune if it wasn’t for his love of gambling. He used to spend seven nights a week in casinos. He only stopped when he lost everything. That’s why this deal he had with you was so important to him. He wanted to buy the bar and move to Spain so he could make a fresh start.’

  ‘The fact he spunked all his money away like some mug is hardly my fault, is it? I want him found, Tarkan, and fast. In fact I will pay five grand to whoever can track him down.’

  ‘And what do you plan on doing with him?’

  ‘Well, I am hardly going to take him for a night out at the casino, am I? The cunt knows too much and needs to be silenced.’

  Dickie Murray was worried as he led the team of policemen across the cobbled paths which led to the wasteland where he and Rex had walked. It was pitch-dark now and even though the police had torches, Dickie was anxious he would not be able to remember the exact place where he had seen the arm. The police had brought sniffer dogs with them, so Dickie just hoped that, providing he walked in the right direction, the dogs would pick up a scent.

  ‘I so hope I can find the right spot. So bloody awkward in the dark. I think I could find it much easier in the daylight,’ he told them.

  The search coordinator patted him on the back. ‘You’re doing just fine.’

  ‘I know I haven’t brought you on a wild-goose chase. As soon as I saw that arm and those little fingers, I knew it was real. I touched it lightly and it was definitely human. Made me feel ill. I’ve never seen anything like it before.’

  Tarkan Smith had a difficult decision to make. Being half Turkish and half English, he had no allegiance to either race. He was a massive football fan. His English team was Tottenham Hotspur, his Turkish Galatasaray, and he supported both international teams with a passion. His biggest dread was Turkey and England ever playing one another in a World Cup final, as he would never be able to take sides. However, today he did have to take sides. He knew exactly where Carl Thompson was as he had called him yesterday, and as much as Tarkan liked and admired Ahmed Zane, Carl had been a very good friend to him.

  Tarkan sighed, then picked up the phone. He had to go with his heart rather than his head on this particular occasion. ‘Carl, you need to come and see me straight away. I have a proposition for you.’

  The police were still conducting a search of her house when Shirley Preston arrived home. She could see the neighbours’ curtains twitching, but was determined to walk up the path with her head held high. She had experienced police raids in the past, thanks to her son Johnny bringing trouble to her door in his teenage years. She had wanted to stay at the police station with Jamie, but he’d refused to speak in front of her, saying he would prefer to have a social worker in the room, which worried Shirley terribly.

  Her heart lurched as she spotted a police officer walk down the stairs with what she assumed was two bags of evidence. She could clearly see some of her grandson’s clothes in one bag, and the other looked like it was full of old newspapers. ‘He didn’t do it, you know. My Jamie might not be an angel, but he would never abduct or harm a child.’

  ‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ the officer replied cockily.

  Shirley’s hand wouldn’t stop shaking as she put the kettle on. She could see two officers in her back garden with a bloody sniffer dog. Deciding she needed something stronger than tea, Shirley poured herself a large brandy.

  This situation was a nightmare and she had no family to turn to. She could not ring her daughter as she had already disowned Jamie, and she could not ring her son as it was his granddaughter that Jamie had been arrested on suspicion of abducting.

  Specialist police dogs were trained to perfection. When scenting death they would become excitable, their tails would wag, but they were taught not to start digging in case they disturbed vital evidence.

  When the dog handler’s finest two canines suddenly ran to a spot of land and sat down beside it with their tails wagging, the team of police officers ran towards it. Seconds later, they spotted the arm.

  Christopher Walker had been both surprised and horrified to get a message on his pager from Ahmed Zane. It was hard to believe Vinny would go ahead with a big drug deal while his daughter was missing. Then again, with a heartless bastard like that, who knew what he was capable of?

  Ahmed was already waiting in the pub car park near to their usual meeting point when Christopher pulled up. The country park was shut this time of night. His heart felt like a lead weight as he got out of his car and into Ahmed’s. ‘Hello, Christopher. How are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. Yourself?’

  ‘Well, I am not so fine. But I do have some good news for you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The drug bust is off. Vinny had far too much on his plate to want to participate, and I am planning on spending some time in Turkey in the near future.’

  Christopher could feel the relief seeping through his pores. It was Olivia’s birthday next month and, even though they had not been together for long, their relationship was very intense and he knew she was the one for him. However, he could never have proposed with the Vinny dilemma hanging over his head.

  ‘Thank you for letting me know, Ahmed. I appreciate you driving here tonight to tell me the news.’

  ‘That wasn’t the only reason I drove here. I need a favour, and it is definitely in your best interest to help me.’

  His elation cut short, Christopher could only mumble, ‘What?’

  ‘Well, the other man who was helping us in our campaign to lock Vinny up has done a disappearing act, Christopher. He knows too much and needs to be found, quickly. His name is Carl Thompson.’

  When DS Townsend arrived at the scene of the crime, the area was already cordoned off with tape. Some of the earth had been moved to reveal the identity of the victim, and Townsend bent down to take a closer look.

  The skin was discoloured, the insects had most certainly had a nibble, but the body was not that decomposed. The child’s mop of curly blonde hair was clear to see, even though it was caked in mud, and as Townsend turned away, he felt sick. There was nothing worse than seeing the dead body of a murdered child. A terrible waste of a young life.

  Back at Arbour Square police station, Jamie Preston had now started to talk after his earlier tantrum.

&nbs
p; When his grandmother had left, Jamie had started kicking and punching the walls while protesting his innocence, and at the insistence of the on-duty solicitor and social worker, had been put in a cell to calm down.

  Smithers had now decided to play Mr Nice Guy instead of Mr Nasty and that seemed to be having the desired effect on Jamie, who was starting to open up a bit.

  ‘As I told you before, I was only sat outside the club that day because it would have been my brother Mark’s eighteenth birthday and that’s where he died. I miss Mark so much, so I went there to pay my respects. That’s why I was drinking cider, to toast my brother’s life.’

  ‘So, why did you return to the area again today, Jamie?’

  ‘I wasn’t there today,’ Jamie lied.

  ‘You’re not doing yourself any favours here, lad. If you want me to believe you’re innocent, you must be truthful with me. You were seen in the area today.’

  When Jamie did not reply, Smithers changed the subject. ‘Why did you cut the newspaper articles out, Jamie? The police found lots of newspapers under your bed and all the cuttings of Molly in the sleeve of one of your record covers.’

  ‘Because I hate Vinny Butler. It’s his fault that Mark is dead, and I hope he’s suffering like my brother suffered when he got burnt. I can still hear his screams now, and there was nothing I could do to help him. Plus he tried to kill me.’

  ‘Who tried to kill you? Vinny?’

  Jamie’s tears were ones of pure anger. ‘Yes – he tried to make my mum abort me. He even paid her to get rid of me and said, if she didn’t, he would get rid of me himself. That’s why my mum had to move away from the area before I was born. I would have been killed otherwise and so would she. That’s why we moved to Suffolk.’

  Smithers was becoming more bemused by the second. ‘Is Vinny your dad, Jamie?’

  ‘No. Vinny’s my half brother. My dad is Albie Butler.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Smithers crouched down next to the shallow grave. The skin of the child had begun to discolour and there were signs that decomposure had set in, but there was no question that the child was Molly Butler.