by Roberta Kray
‘Who else? You should have stayed away from his mad bitch of a daughter.’
‘Shit, Delaney didn’t do it.’ Danny drank some of the brandy and grinned. ‘If he’d wanted me dead, I’d be dead. You think that goon he employs would have accidentally pumped two bullets into somebody else?’
‘There wasn’t much light,’ Chris said.
‘There was enough. It wasn’t him. Christ, if Delaney’s going to waste every man who shags his daughter, he’ll be taking out contracts for the rest of his life.’
‘Where is she, anyway? Shouldn’t she be here playing doctors and nurses?’
‘Where’s Ava?’ Danny retorted. ‘She ain’t here either.’
‘I’ve not just been shot.’
‘Yeah, well, if you had been, you sure as hell wouldn’t want some tart fussing round.’
Terry kept his back to them, his shoulders hunched. ‘She’s big trouble. You know she is.’
Danny rolled his eyes. ‘This isn’t about her. How many times? Jesus! Whoever did this, they were amateurs. And it wasn’t me they were after, it was him.’
‘But why?’ Chris asked. ‘Who the hell is this guy, Squires?’
‘How should I know? He’s just some punter. We got talking and when he left, I went outside with him. Wanted a fag, didn’t I? See, that’s what I mean. No one could have known I’d be out there. It was him they were waiting for.’
Chris wasn’t so sure. And he reckoned Danny was hiding something. God, Danny was always hiding something. ‘What did Old Bill say?’
‘Nothin’ worth repeating. It was Butler and that blonde cow from Cowan Road.’
‘Middleton,’ Chris said. ‘She must have thought all her Christmases had come at once.’
‘Apart from the fact I’m still breathing.’
‘Yeah, apart from that.’ Chris paused and then said, ‘Course it could have been Wilder. He’s mad enough to try and take you out.’
Danny curled his lip. ‘What, that fuckin’ pansy? He wouldn’t have the nerve.’
Chris could have mentioned that the ‘fuckin’ pansy’ was currently screwing Jenna, but decided not to share that particular humiliation. It would be common knowledge soon enough.
‘Wilder,’ repeated Terry as if the name had only just penetrated his brain.
‘What do you reckon?’ asked Chris. ‘I’d sure as hell put him in the frame.’
Terry glanced over his shoulder. ‘That’s Lizzie’s boy,’ he said. ‘Why would he want to do something like that?’
‘Why does Wilder do anything? Why does he send dead rats through the post?’
Terry pulled on his ear for a moment, his forehead puckered in a frown. ‘You should talk to Lizzie. She’ll sort him out.’
There was a short uncomfortable silence before Danny barked out a laugh. ‘What the fuck are you going on about? Lizzie’s six foot under. What do want me to do – dig her up?’
‘Leave it,’ said Chris, throwing his brother a warning glance.
Terry’s frown grew deeper, his expression one of incomprehension. He blinked a couple of times and then turned his back on them again.
Chris looked past his father to the garden that lay beyond, the long oblong of white with its snow-covered trees and bushes. Trojan patrolled the perimeter, his nose close to the ground, searching for the scent of any poor creature, human or animal, that he could hunt down and tear limb from limb.
‘You okay, Dad?’ he asked.
Terry didn’t answer.
Chris had the sense of a thread being pulled, of a slow but distinct unravelling. Everything was coming apart. Everything was changing, and not for the better.
32
DI Valerie Middleton was back at her desk at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning. With the overtime sheets pushed to one side, she was sifting instead through the witness statements taken after the shooting at Belles. They made for pretty thin reading. Solomon Vale, who had probably been best placed to view the incident, could add little to what Danny Street had already told them. She thought back to the interview that had been conducted in the opulent if somewhat tacky surroundings of the club office.
‘So, talk us through what you saw, what you heard,’ Butler said. ‘Let’s start with the arrival of the victim, Jeremy Squires.’
Solomon, who seemed way too big for the chair he was sitting on, leaned forward with his hands splayed across his huge thighs. ‘Squires? That his name?’ He waited a few seconds, looking from Butler to Valerie, before continuing. ‘It was about eight, I reckon. He pulled into the car park, the far part by the exit, and then came over to the door.’
‘Had you ever seen him before?’
‘Don’t reckon so, but there’s lots of people come and go. Can’t remember all of them.’
‘But he’s not a regular?’
Solomon smiled, showing a row of straight white teeth. ‘Don’t reckon so,’ he said again. ‘But then all you honkies look the same to me.’
Valerie gave him a thin smile in return. ‘What did you say to him?’
‘Huh?’
‘The car park’s only for staff, isn’t it? Did you tell him that he couldn’t park there?’
‘I didn’t tell him nothin’,’ Solomon said. ‘Didn’t get the chance. He comes up to me and says that he wants to speak to the boss. I ask him what it’s about, but don’t get no joy. He’s insistent. Yeah, that’s the word, insistent. Only wants to talk to the guy at the top. Now, normally, I’d want a bit more information before I go bothering the boss, but this guy looks kind of official, like a lawyer or something, so I figure he might be expected and just take him on through.’
Butler placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. ‘When he asked for the boss, did he use a name? I mean, did he specifically ask for Danny Street?’
‘Nah,’ Solomon said. ‘The boss. That’s all he said. But Danny was the only one here, so that’s who I took him to see.’
‘How did Squires seem?’ Valerie asked.
‘Seem?’
‘Was he impatient, anxious, calm?’
Solomon thought about this for a moment and then gave a shrug of his mighty shoulders. ‘He seemed like the sort who was used to getting what he wanted.’
‘So you take him through to the club. What happens then?’
‘I take him over to Danny’s table. The guy says something to him – I don’t hear what, it’s noisy in there with the music – and then the guy sits down. I figure everything’s okay and so I head back to the door.’
‘Did you get the impression that they knew each other?’
Solomon raised his hands, palms upward. ‘Didn’t get no impression, man. Couldn’t say one way or the other. It’s Saturday night and it’s getting busy. I got other things on my mind.’
Butler and Valerie waited, but he had nothing more to add.
‘And then what happened?’ Butler prompted.
‘And then I don’t see him again until he and Danny come out.’
‘Which is how long?’
‘Couldn’t say for sure. Fifteen minutes, maybe.’
‘Quarter of an hour,’ Butler said. ‘Doesn’t say much for the quality of the entertainment.’
‘Or maybe it was so good, he just couldn’t take the excitement.’
‘Even you don’t believe that.’
Solomon grinned. ‘Anyway, Danny stops to light a fag and the other guy walks on over to his car. Danny goes over to join him and next thing I hear is the noise. Three shots in a row, quick, one after the other. I run over there and the two of them are on the ground by the car. Danny’s bleeding from the arm, but he’s okay. The grey-haired guy’s not looking so good though. He’s got two holes in his back and he’s not moving.’
‘Did you look around?’ Valerie asked. ‘You must have wondered if the gunman was still there.’
‘Must have done. Probably. Only natural, ain’t it?’ Solomon frowned while he tried to think back. ‘I didn’t notice nothin’, though.’ His lips
slid into a half smile. ‘I mean, there were people on the street, cars going by, but no one standing by the gates with a gun in their hand.’
Valerie inclined her head. ‘How did you know the shots came from there?’
‘Where else could they have come from? The guy had his back to the gate. He was shot in the back. Therefore…’
‘Could have come from one of the buildings,’ Butler suggested.
‘That would have meant a rifle. Didn’t sound like rifle shots to me.’
Valerie gave a nod. ‘Okay. So what next?’
‘Next, I check out the guy on the ground. He’s still got a pulse but nothin’ to write home about. So I call an ambulance, pronto.’
‘And Danny?’
‘What about him?’
‘What’s he doing?’
Solomon sat back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘What do you think he’s doing? Dancing the light fandango? The guy’s just been shot, man. He’s trying his best not to bleed to death.’
‘It was only a flesh wound,’ Valerie said.
‘He don’t know that. All he knows is that it hurts like shit and that’s a mighty lot of blood pumping out of his arm.’
Butler gave a nod. ‘Did he say anything to you while you were waiting for the ambulance to come?’
‘I dunno. Some, I guess. He was in shock. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight myself. I think he asked about the geezer, whether I thought he would make it or not.’
‘Where was Danny in relation to Squires?’
Solomon frowned again as if suspecting some trickery to the question. ‘What?’
‘Squires was lying face down on the ground, right?’ Butler said. ‘So where exactly was Danny? By his feet, by his hips, by his chest?’
‘Erm… close by. Pretty near. He was sitting down. By his chest, I guess.’
‘Did he touch him, try and move him?’
‘If he did, I didn’t see it. But then I wasn’t looking all the time. There was a crowd starting to gather so I got up and tried to shift them back. No one needs an audience, right, not when they’ve just been shot.’
Valerie was brought back to the present by the sight of DCI Butler strolling across the incident room. He was wearing a heavy overcoat dusted with snow and a green-and-blue-check scarf. The blinds were open and she gave him a wave.
‘Morning,’ he said as he came through the door. ‘How did I guess I’d find you here at this ungodly hour?’
‘Oh, you know me. I can’t resist a good attempted murder. It is still attempted, isn’t it? Any news from the hospital?’
Butler pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘It’s touch and go. He’s still in intensive care. I’ve got a couple of PCs with him just in case he was the intended victim. They’ll let me know if he comes round. The bullets have gone off to Ballistics, but until we find the gun…’
‘Do we know anything about it yet?’
‘Only that it’s an automatic or semi-automatic. The boys found the shell casings on the ground. Oh, yes, and the third bullet lodged in the wall so, looking at the trajectory, it’s pretty clear that whoever fired the gun was standing by the gates.’
‘Must have been one cool customer,’ Valerie said. ‘Anyone could have seen them.’
‘Cool or crazy. Take your pick.’
Valerie pondered on this for a while before belatedly remembering her manners. ‘Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee?’
‘Is it any better than that dishwater at the hospital?’
‘Marginally.’
‘Go on, then. I’ll have a tea. One sugar, please.’
Valerie went through to the drinks machine in the incident room and came back a couple of minutes later with two plastic cups. She put them on the desk and sat down again. ‘I was just reading through Solomon Vale’s statement,’ she said. ‘There was something I wanted to ask you.’
‘Ask away,’ Butler said. He picked up the cup, took a sip and gave a nod. ‘I’ve tasted worse.’
‘Why did you ask whether Danny Street had moved Squires?’
‘Ah,’ Butler said. ‘Good question. There’s something of a mystery there. You see, there was a lot of blood down the side of Squires’s jacket, some on the front left side of his shirt and even some in his left-hand jacket pocket. It didn’t come from the bullet wounds. The jacket’s still with Forensics, but I’m willing to bet that the blood is Danny’s.’
‘You think Danny moved him before the ambulance came?’
‘He must have done. Question is, why? What was so important that even though he’d been shot himself, and must have been in considerable pain, he still felt the need to go rummaging through Squires’s pocket?’
‘His wallet?’ Valerie suggested.
‘Yeah, that was the first thing that sprang into my mind too, but his wallet wasn’t there. It was in the back pocket of his trousers. And that, surely, would be the next place you’d look. Except he didn’t. There wasn’t a drop of blood, not one.’
‘Maybe he didn’t have time.’
‘But that would normally be the first place you’d search. No, I reckon he was after something else.’
‘Any ideas?’
Butler stirred his tea with the skinny plastic spoon. ‘Not a clue.’
‘I still think Danny was the intended target. You know he’s been seeing Vic Delaney’s daughter, Silver?’
Butler glanced up at her. ‘No, I didn’t. You think Delaney might have been showing his disapproval?’
‘Would you like it if your daughter was dating Danny Street?’
‘No,’ Butler said. ‘But then I wouldn’t be that happy if my son was dating Silver Delaney either.’
‘You’ve got a point.’
‘Hardly a marriage made in heaven. Not sure if I buy Delaney for this, though. He’d be more likely to rough Danny up, try and warn him off, rather than actually put a bullet in him.’
‘Who knows? Daddies and their daughters.’
Butler drank some more of his tea, his face tight and pensive. ‘The other thing is, how would anyone be sure that Danny was even going to go outside last night? I mean, later, yeah, when the club closed, but not at that time.’
‘He’s a smoker,’ Valerie said. ‘Perhaps he makes a habit of nipping out for a fag.’
‘But then he’d probably stay near the entrance, wouldn’t he? And that would make him a pretty hard target for someone standing at the gate – it must be what, twenty, twenty-five yards? Well, unless they were a pro, but a pro doesn’t accidentally pump two bullets into the wrong victim. Plus, if Danny’s telling the truth, he doesn’t spend much time at Belles, so why would anyone expect to find him there?’
‘Because he was followed?’
‘And then the tail stands around in the freezing cold hoping that Danny might show his face before closing time? No, it doesn’t add up.’
‘But who’d want to shoot Squires?’ Valerie glanced down at the open file. ‘Did you get a chance to talk to the wife?’
‘Amanda. Yeah, briefly. She can’t make any sense of it either. They were due at a dinner party in Whitechapel at seven-thirty, an important one too, by all accounts. Another local councillor called Barnes and his missus. Squires was hoping to bend the guy’s ear about some planning application. And then, just as they were about to leave, Squires claims he’s got an emergency at work and has to go into the office for half an hour. He calls a cab for her and says he’ll join her later.’
‘And then off he trots to Belles.’
‘Exactly,’ Butler said. ‘So unless he was overtaken by an uncontrollable urge to view a glistening pair of naked breasts, my guess would be that he had pressing business with Danny Street.’
‘Glistening?’ she asked, arching her brows.
Butler grinned. ‘So I’ve heard.’
‘So you reckon Solomon Vale was lying when he said Squires didn’t ask for Danny by name?’
‘Through his teeth,’ Butler said. ‘But then what do you expect? He works for the S
treets. He and Danny had a good ten minutes to cobble a story together before the ambulance or the cops got there.’
‘I don’t suppose Mrs Squires knows if her husband made a habit of visiting clubs of ill-repute.’
‘Says he wasn’t the type, but who can tell? The wife’s often the last to know.’