Vinny picked his daughter up and smiled at the neighbour. ‘I don’t even know your name.’
‘It’s Ruth.’
Vinny winked. ‘Thank you, Ruth. Hopefully see you again soon.’
Deborah Preston was in a paranoid frenzy by the time her best friend Sandy arrived. As soon as Deborah had told her Jo was missing, she’d driven straight over from Tiptree.
‘Johnny was right,’ Deborah sobbed. ‘He said Vinny would kill her, and now he has, I just know it.’
Sandy held her sobbing friend in her arms. ‘Shhh, calm down, Deb. I’m sure there must be some simple explanation, but since you’re so worried why don’t we drive over to Jo’s place and if there’s no sign of her we can call the police to—’
‘The police won’t do nothing yet,’ Deborah said frantically. ‘I rang them earlier and they said it’s too soon to file a missing person report on Jo. I told them how reliable she was, but they wouldn’t listen.’
‘They’ll listen to me, Deb. Get in my car and we’ll call by Jo’s and then if there’s no sign of her we’ll go on to the police station. People don’t just disappear into thin air.’
‘Pass me the phone, Mum,’ Vinny Butler ordered. He dialled Joanna’s parents’ number and it went to answerphone. ‘It’s Vinny. Just to let you know I took Ava back to Jo’s, but she wasn’t there. I hung about for a bit, but couldn’t wait for ever as I had my family in the car. Anyway, Ava’s gonna stay with me tonight at my mum’s house. Tell Jo to give me a bell and I’ll arrange a time to drop Ava off tomorrow.’
‘Strange Jo wasn’t at home eh, boy? She usually can’t wait to snatch Ava back off us,’ Queenie said.
‘I thought the same, Mum. She said she was going over to her mother’s for the day. Perhaps she broke down on the way home or something? Not being funny, but I’ve given her my mobile number and she could’ve called if she was anywhere near a phone box.’
Staring at her nephew’s evil eyes through the interior mirror, Vivian kept her opinion of what had happened to Jo to herself. That poor girl was bound to be dead and Vivian had no doubt in her mind Vinny had organized it.
Darren Grant’s eyes flickered open. He wasn’t sure of his surroundings, but could feel immense pain. ‘Jo, Shane, where are you?’ he mumbled.
‘Daddy, I’m hurting. My foot hurts and my arm,’ Shane whimpered.
‘Hang on in there, son. I’ll be with you,’ a disorientated Darren replied.
‘Help me now, Daddy. Please help me now,’ Shane screamed.
There was no reply. Unfortunately for poor Shane, his father’s heart had stopped beating.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
After the escape from reality the previous day, Queenie Butler woke up feeling thoroughly depressed. Today Adam would be laid to rest, and all she could think of was his cute little face.
Hearing voices, Queenie opened the curtains. The sun was shining, thankfully, and the loony next door was doing his morning exercise routine while Mummy looked on from her wheelchair.
Instead of watching them and cackling as she usually did, Queenie walked away from the window. She had a eulogy to perfect, then read out, and was determined to do so with a stiff upper lip. Anything less would be a sign of weakness.
Little Vinny gave Sammi-Lou a peck on the cheek. ‘I’ll give you a bell when I want picking up. Have a nice day out with your parents.’ His fiancée had wanted to attend Adam’s funeral to support him, but he’d told her there was no need. His dad and Michael were bound to get on the piss afterwards and there were important things to discuss. Such as killing Ahmed.
‘You scrub up well in a suit. You should wear ’em more often. You OK?’ Vinny asked his son.
‘So-so, Dad. I hate funerals, but who doesn’t?’
‘You spoken to Ahmed at all?’
‘No. But I’m due back in work on Wednesday. I was thinking of telling him I’ve got the flu or something. I can’t face having to look at the bastard.’
Vinny led his son out into the back garden. ‘I need you to man up. I want you to go into work and act totally normal. The cunt’s coming to the funeral today, and we all have to act as though nothing’s wrong. You get me?’
Little Vinny nodded. ‘I’m worried about that tape, Dad. He’s bound to have made more than one copy. Say the Old Bill ever get their hands on it? Can’t we tell the police what he forced me to do?’
‘Don’t talk bollocks. This time next week, Ahmed will have disappeared off the face of the earth. The Old Bill ain’t stupid, boy. Don’t worry about the tape. If it ever comes to light, I’ll sort it. If you had a gun at your head, it’s hardly likely to be a heartfelt confession. The police have experts for that kind of stuff. They’ll know you were forced to say what you did.’
Little Vinny bit his lip anxiously. If the Old Bill ever got their hands on that tape, he was definitely in shit-street.
Deborah Preston was in pieces. She hadn’t slept, couldn’t eat and had a constant churning of dread in her stomach.
‘Do you want another cup of tea?’ Sandy asked. After they’d come back from the police station last night, having secured a promise that someone would come out and see them in the morning, Deborah had been in such a state she didn’t dare leave her alone.
‘No. I just want the police to bloody well hurry up. She’ll have been missing twenty-four hours soon. That girl’s my world, Sand. Life without her wouldn’t be worth living. I hope Ava’s OK too. She’s never stayed with her bastard of a father before. She must be missing her mum. I hope he brings Ava back today.’
Sandy tried to offer reassurance, but with each hour that passed she had grown more convinced that something untoward must have happened. She’d lost count of how many times she’d gone to the window in the hope of seeing Jo’s car coming down the street. This time when she got up to look, she saw a panda car pulling up. ‘The police have arrived, Deb. I’ll let them in.’
The two officers showed little sense of urgency as they began asking questions. Appalled when the older officer suggested that Joanna might have gone somewhere without telling her, Deborah immediately put him straight. ‘I can assure you that isn’t the case. Joanna is totally reliable. She’s a mum herself and would never want me to worry. We’re very close. We speak at least twice a day.’
‘Are you positive Joanna’s boyfriend was with her yesterday?’
‘I can’t say for definite, but I should imagine he was. He’s with Jo every Sunday, and she said he was coming for dinner.’
‘Was Joanna having any relationship problems?’
‘None whatsoever. Jo idolizes Darren and vice versa. They’re engaged to be married.’
‘Do you know where the mother of Darren’s son lives?’
‘She lives in Bradwell. I don’t know the address though. Her name’s Lorraine and Darren’s son is called Shane Grant.’
‘We’ll find out the address. Is there anything else you can tell us? We already have the model and registration of Joanna’s car.’
‘Yes. My daughter’s ex is the notorious gangster Vinny Butler. He’s Ava’s father. I’ll play you a message he left on my answerphone last night. The man is evil and will go to any lengths to get what he wants. If any harm has come to my daughter, Vinny Butler is behind it.’
Knowing the Old Bill were bound to listen to Joanna’s messages, Vinny rang her again. ‘What the fuck you playing at, Jo? Do you not want to be a mother to our daughter any more? Ava’s gonna have to come to Adam’s funeral with me now, and I can’t drop her at yours after because of the wake. I’ll bring her back in the morning, if you can be arsed returning my calls, of course.’
‘Leave that bleedin’ thing ’ere. You can’t take a phone in a church. It’s disrespectful,’ Queenie told her son.
‘I’ll leave it in the limo. I need it with me, Mum, because Jo still hasn’t been in touch. I’ve just left a stinking message on her answerphone. What sort of mother is she? Good job you shot out earlier and bought Ava something to wea
r today. Poor little cow had chocolate all down the front of that dress she had on yesterday.’
Queenie wasn’t stupid. Joanna was a bloody good mother. If something bad had happened to the girl, Queenie wouldn’t put it past her son to have arranged it. She would never ask Vinny outright though. She’d rather not know the answer. Ignorance is bliss, so they say. Besides, it would be lovely to see more of Ava.
Douglas Jones had a prostate problem. He could no longer hold his urine in like he’d once been able to, which was why he’d just had to stop his car and flop his todger out.
Zipping his trousers up, Douglas’s eyes widened at the sight of the rear end of a blue car poking out of the ditch.
Douglas decided to investigate. There was a road not far from here known to the locals as the ‘Dengie Straight’. It was a magnet for boy-racers and there’d been a fatal accident there not that long ago. Two cars had collided while racing and both drivers and one passenger had died.
Cursing as he slipped on his backside, Douglas picked himself up and tottered down the slope. He knew his cars and could see it was a Ford Fiesta.
Nothing could have prepared Douglas for the horror he was about to encounter. Blood, gore. Two dead adults and a small boy in the back crying his eyes out.
Mary Walker put the phone down. ‘That was DC Maynard, Donald. The search for Nancy has now officially been called off, and he’s promised he’ll deliver her letters to us in person in the next day or two.’
Donald held his wife in his arms. ‘I’ll pay the vicar a visit, as Christopher suggested. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hold a short service in Nancy’s honour. We can word it as a celebration of her life, rather than a memorial. We’ll invite family and close friends and have a drink somewhere afterwards.’
‘Donald, will you do me a favour? I want to go to Adam’s funeral. We still have plenty of time to get ready. Please come with me?’
‘No, Mary. Christopher forbade us to attend. Let’s pay our respects at the graveside tomorrow, as previously agreed. I could not think of anything worse than being in close proximity to that vulgar family. Nancy would be here with us now if it wasn’t for them.’
‘I know all that, but our grandson is lying in a small coffin as we speak. We should say goodbye to him properly. We’ll leave as soon as the service is over. It’s terrible that nobody from our side of the family is going.’
Donald wasn’t a brutal man, but for once he knew he had to be. ‘Mary, our grandson was chopped into pieces by a train. His soul is already in heaven, my darling. All that is left in that coffin is his body parts.’
Michael Butler had never felt at home in Barking. He’d always kept himself to himself there, spoke to very few of the neighbours, which was why he’d agreed to his mum’s suggestion that Adam’s funeral leave from her house. It made sense. Whitechapel was where his heart belonged, and his business. He knew all the locals would want to pay their respects too.
Done up to the nines, Queenie and Vivian hugged Michael. Both knew exactly how he was feeling, having lost sons themselves. The hearse and funeral cars weren’t due for another hour, but people were already gathering along the street.
Nosy Hilda ran across the road. ‘How are you, Michael? So sorry for your loss, lovey. Adam was a dear boy. May he rest in peace.’
‘Not now, Hilda. Come and look at the beautiful flowers, boys,’ Queenie urged her sons and grandson.
Little Vinny walked inside his grandma’s house. He couldn’t bear to look at floral tributes. They reminded him of his sister’s funeral.
‘From the Frasers, this one, bruv,’ Vinny said.
Michael crouched down. ‘That Turkish cunt has just turned up,’ he hissed.
Seething inside, Vinny stood up, plastered a fake smile on his face, walked over to Ahmed and shook his hand. ‘I thought you were going straight to the church?’
‘I was. But I wanted to be here for you and Michael. It’s tough days such as these when you need your true friends by your side.’
Resisting the urge to slit Ahmed’s throat there and then, Vinny instead gritted his teeth and gave the Turkish turncoat a pat on the back. ‘You’re a good ’un, mate.’
Adam’s service was to be held at St Leonard’s Church in Shoreditch. The same vicar had delivered a lovely sermon at Roy’s, Lenny’s and Molly’s funerals. The burial would then take place in Plaistow, where Adam would be laid to rest in a plot near to his deceased relations.
Two stunning black horses took Adam on his final journey. The streets of Whitechapel weren’t quite at a standstill and neither had as many shops closed as they had for Molly’s funeral, which angered Queenie immensely. ‘I’m never shopping in Cliff’s butchers again or buying another item off Ginger Bill, the ignorant bastards,’ she hissed.
Vinny squeezed his mother’s hand. Molly had been murdered, while Adam had died in an accident; those were two different things, but he didn’t want to say that in front of Michael. ‘It’s a sign of the times, Mum. The area’s changed and so has the culture. There’s a lot of outsiders working on the market now and selling stuff for peanuts. I doubt Cliff and Ginger Bill could afford to take a day off work.’
‘Shame we can’t be transported back to the fifties or sixties, Queen. I’d go back in a heartbeat if I could, wouldn’t you? They were the good old days, all right,’ Vivian said solemnly.
Surprised that his aunt had even joined in a conversation that he was involved in, as she usually blanked him nowadays, Vinny took the bull by the horns. ‘A lot of your generation have moved out to Essex now, Auntie Viv. It’s lovely there. I’m sure you and Mum would like it. Just say the word and I’ll buy you a nice house you can share.’
‘I don’t want fuck-all off you,’ Vivian spat.
Lee bursting into tears brought the conversation to an abrupt end.
‘Can’t yous lot stop arguing, even on a day like this? We’re in a funeral car following my brother’s coffin,’ Daniel piped up.
Agreeing with Daniel totally, Michael gave both his sons a hug.
At the mention of Vinny Butler’s name the two police officers in Deborah Preston’s living room had suddenly begun taking her daughter’s disappearance very seriously. After asking a lot of questions about Joanna’s relationship with her ex and taking a look at the correspondence with Vinny’s solicitor, they had asked Deborah to accompany them to Joanna’s house so they could search for clues to her whereabouts.
‘They’re wasting their time looking here,’ Deborah told Sandy as they waited in Jo’s kitchen while the police officers checked the rooms upstairs. ‘They won’t find anything – if there was anything to find we’d have seen it last night. I’m telling you Sandy, this has Vinny Butler stamped all over it. I was mad not to listen to Johnny. He warned me over and over,’ Deborah wept.
Sandy didn’t know what to say. Her gut told her Deborah could be right, so she said nothing.
At that moment one of the police officers entered the kitchen. ‘I’ve just had a call on my radio, Mrs Preston. It appears your daughter’s car has been found. I’ll take you and your friend back to your house. An officer will be waiting there for us.’
‘Where was the car found? Is Jo OK?’ Deborah asked, complete panic in her voice.
‘I really don’t know any more details, I’m afraid. Let’s make tracks, shall we?’
When Deborah stood up, her legs felt like jelly. Joanna was dead. She could feel it in her bones.
Queenie’s opinion of the local community took a turn for the better when the entourage reached St Leonard’s. There was an enormous crowd waiting outside the church, including many familiar faces. She even spotted Jeanie Thomas, which was remarkable considering the poor woman must know in her heart that Vinny had ended her son Trevor’s life by setting fire to him.
Wearing big black hats with veils covering their faces, the sisters climbed out of the limo, Queenie holding Vinny’s arm while Vivian held Michael’s. Both women liked to glam up even more than usual for a fu
neral and had worn higher stilettos than usual.
The church wasn’t big enough for all the mourners, so anybody who was a somebody barged past anyone who was a nobody to ensure they were inside rather than out.
The vicar began his sermon by telling the congregation what a lovely boy Adam had been and how he’d brought joy to all those around him.
‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ was one of the hymns Michael had chosen. He remembered Adam singing it at home as a nipper, having learnt it at infants’ school.
Lifting her netted veil, Queenie made her way to the front of the church to give the first eulogy. She praised Adam to the hilt, then told the congregation some funny stories about him, including the time he’d found a frog in the garden and put it in her bed. ‘I squealed like a pig when I heard that bleedin’ frog croak as I got under the covers. How I stopped myself launching Adam out the window after it, I’ll never know.’
Michael was the next to stand up and he managed to hold back the tears as he spoke about his son’s love of life in general and the things he’d done and adored doing the most.
Albie Butler was far weaker than his son and sobbed when Michael mentioned the talent competition at Kings when Adam had got on stage and sung ‘Grandad’ in his honour.
‘The Lord’s My Shepherd’ was then sung by all. Unexpectedly, the moment it finished, Daniel insisted he wanted to stand up and say something.
‘Go on, boy. Do your bruvver proud,’ Brenda slurred from the pew behind.
Queenie turned around with hatred in her eyes. Her daughter was nothing but an embarrassment to the good name of her family and she truly wished Brenda had never been born. Tara and Tommy, her grandchildren were nowhere to be seen, and Queenie knew the gossip-mongers would have a field day speculating on their absence, not to mention Brenda turning up at the church pissed with her similarly pissed arsehole of a boyfriend in tow.
‘Shut up, you fat moose,’ Queenie hissed.
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