by Mick Scully
No one had mentioned this when they were all together outside Pinks. ‘Anyone can hire a Chinese gunman, Kieran – or pay someone on Stretton’s staff to deliver a script. I saw him. Lifted his mask to scratch his nose. Definitely yellow. It doesn’t mean anything.’
Kieran said nothing. Carrow wondered what Ruthie saw in someone like him. But that was stupid. Kieran was a good-looking bloke, well dressed, confident, lots of chat no doubt, the Irish charm – and he wouldn’t be short of a few wads of cash to splash about. Definitely a plus in Ruthie’s book.
*
At the Hippo, Kieran escorted Carrow to Crawford’s office.
Crawford was more relaxed than he had sounded on the phone. ‘Craig, come in. Take a seat. I bet you could do with a drink. Whiskey?’
‘Thanks.’ He needed a drink. He could always leave the car where it was for tonight. Get a taxi back.
Crawford poured two glasses and handed one over. Carrow took a hefty gulp and released a satisfied sigh. ‘Beautiful stuff.’
‘Aberfeldy. A favourite of mine.’
‘Right, at the kick-off,’ Carrow started, ‘I need to make something clear. If there is any way this, your organisation, is involved, even to the extent of knowing something about Stretton’s killing, let me go. Now. I know you can’t go into it, can’t commit yourself…’ And here Carrow paused slightly, just enough to ensure his emphasis on the word was clear. ‘But if there is any sort of involvement, just say cheers, we’ll clink glasses, finish our drinks and I’ll be off. Because I know which side I’m on when it gets as serious as this – and if you mislead me and I discover you are involved in any way, or if you know who is, then all agreements of confidentiality are off.’
Crawford took his time to reply. Carrow couldn’t be sure whether his little speech had stirred things up or if this was just the way the man was. ‘I appreciate you being so direct, Craig. I always like to know where I stand with people. And it’s better for them if they know where they stand with me. Better for all concerned. I’ll put it in your terms shall I? We could finish this bottle, go through another and we’d both be unconscious before we needed to clink glasses and say cheers. I know nothing about Stretton’s death. Didn’t see it coming. Know nothing about it. From what Kieran tells me it looks as if it was a Dragons job. Though I must say it surprises me. I wouldn’t have thought anything quite as crude as this was their style, not these days. And it’s shut the club down for a while.’
‘Perhaps that’s what they want.’
‘Maybe. Now, what do you know? Show me I haven’t wasted my money.’ The tone was friendly but Carrow knew the man was moving up a gear.
‘Maybe you have. I learned about the killing through a text from one of the blokes on the door. I’d been at the gym all day. Soon as I heard I headed for Essex Street. That’s when I got your call. Can’t get near the place though so I park up in Gooch Street – as you know, or at least as Kieran knew.’
‘Nothing sinister. I told him to circle the area, see if he could find you.’
‘A lot of Norway staff had made their way there. We were corralled into a little group outside Pinks, which is where they’ve set up a first stage incident room.’
‘Who’s running the show?’ Crawford asked.
‘Sean Dowd.’
‘Your old boss, eh? That could be handy.’
Crawford put his whiskey glass down on the table beside him, lifted his cigarettes, put one in his mouth, threw another to Carrow. Each lit up. As a column of smoke grew between them, Crawford leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘When you were back in Jamaica, for your bereavement, did you see much of the place? Travel about?’
The sudden change of subject took Carrow by surprise. ‘Not really. A bit. Mostly I just hung around Santa Cruz. The Treasure Beach area a bit. I went up to Hanover to visit some relatives in Luces. Cousins took me fishing over at Belmont. Around Kingston a bit.’
‘You never went anywhere near Moore Town? Portland.’
‘No.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you did. A bit of a backwater. A pretty poor place, apparently. That’s where my family’s from. Mom anyway. Originally. I’ve never been there.’
Carrow spotted the ash falling from his cigarette just in time to catch it in the palm of his left hand. Crawford rose and carried across the glass ashtray from the table beside him.
‘Cheers.’
‘Do you fancy a beer? This whiskey’s nice but it makes me thirsty. Freshen the palate?’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Come on, we’ll go downstairs for it.’
Although it wasn’t yet nine there was quite a crowd in as Crawford led Carrow through the Hippo. It was too early for the pole shows but girls in spangled bikini pants with tassels on their tits were already at the tables, sitting on men’s laps.
Crawford led Carrow past the long oval bar at the centre of the club to one of the smaller, more intimate ones, situated around the club, away from the main action. Later girls would bring blokes to these bars for cosy chats and get them to cough up for booze. It was too early in the evening for them to be manned, but when a barman saw where Crawford was heading he came across.
‘Couple of Prague Blondes, Darren.’ The barman stooped to the cooler cabinet for the bottles of lager.
‘Here, Craig, look at this.’ There was a dancer tattooed on Darren’s thick bicep. Big tits with tassels. ‘Watch,’ Crawford repeated, delighted. ‘Go on, Daz.’ And as the barman flexed his muscles, the girl’s breasts appeared to swing, the tassels with them. ‘Kills me every time. You don’t want a glass do you, Craig?’ Crawford asked.
‘Bottle’s fine.’
The two men settled on barstools and Darren returned to his position at the central bar. A noisy group of young men arrived. Three girls rushed to greet them and accompany them to a table. Carrow noticed Kieran standing under a lamp near the entrance reading his phone. And she was back in Carrow’s head – Ruthie Slayte; a message from her?
Crawford looked around. He waved over a good-looking redhead in a tight black dress.
‘Sadie love, looks like we’re in for a busy night.’
‘I’d say so.’ She caught Carrow’s eye. Gave him the once-over – blatantly. Smiled.
‘Let’s get an extra floor show on,’ Crawford told her.
‘No problem. They’re all in. Who do you want?’ She was still looking at Carrow.
‘Tania. She’ll get them warmed up. Get her on pronto. We don’t want ’em moving on.’
‘No problem.’ And Sadie ran her eyes over Carrow again before she turned to leave.
‘She likes you.’
‘I got that impression.’
‘You can have her tonight if you like.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘She’s a dirty little madam.’
‘You’re speaking from experience?’
‘I’ve had ’em all mate. All the ones I want anyway. And Sadie – certainly top ten. Let me know if you’re interested and I’ll let her go early. Time off for bad behaviour.’
Carrow got his cigarettes out. Offered Crawford one, and lit both of them. There was certainly something about Sadie. Perhaps she would be good for him; an antidote to Ruthie. He took a slug of the lager.
‘So what were your plans for the Norway?’ Carrow asked Crawford as they drank.
‘Keep it as it was. A very healthy business. Well run. Good profit. You can’t take it away from Stretton—’
‘Someone did.’
Crawford smirked. ‘That’s a bit of a sick joke, ain’t it, Craig? He won’t be cold yet. But yes, you’re right, somebody did take it away from him.’
‘But not you?’
‘Definitely not me. I wanted to. Intended to. But not in that way. Force if necessary, but not deadly.’
‘Yet?’
But Crawford didn’t run with it. ‘What this does mean, Craig, my old son, is that you’re out of work.’
‘It means that all right.
’
‘Come and work for me. You’ll be well paid.’
‘As what?’
‘Start on the door. Do bits and pieces for me. Look, I’ll be straight with you. I’ve been thinking a lot about Jamaica recently. It’s where our roots are, ain’t it? I’d like to expand over there. Strictly legit. I’ve done very well in this city since taking over from the Lopez brothers. I’ve got a lot of resources to invest right now. And I’m thinking I might do it over there. A couple of high-class clubs in Kingston. Supper clubs with a bit of gambling, some good live music. A restaurant or two. Kingston’s underdeveloped in that way. There’s a lot of money. A business community. But all the investment goes into a few coastal resorts. I’d like to change that. I suppose I see it as a sort of retirement plan. And in the medium term, perhaps in six to twelve months, if you and me hit it off all right, you might be the man to be my agent over there. Investigate what’s available. Make connections. Set things up.’
Darren came over. ‘Need another drink, Mr Crawford?’
‘Ta, Daz. Two more Pragues.’ Both men watched the tattooed girl on the barman’s biceps do her dance as he took the lagers from the cooler and snapped off the tops.
‘And in the six months before? What do I do for my topof-the-range salary?’
‘Like I said. Learn the business. Start as door. That’s easy to explain with the Norway shut. I’ll take on a few of the other blokes as well. Matty Fallon used to work here. And the big Guyanan bloke, Toga is it? And as I said little jobs for me. Learn the business. And – decide on the line.’
‘The line?’
‘You’re ex-blue, Carra. We both know there’s shady areas in this business. So you have to decide if you’re comfortable with the tightrope, given the opportunities it presents. Like you had to decide with the Holland job.’
Carrow picked something up he didn’t like in Crawford’s tone of voice, some insinuation. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The kid that was taken.’
‘That was nothing to do with me.’ The lights went up on the central stage, filling it with a crimson glow.
‘Weren’t you looking the other way when he went?’ Carrow was jolted back to reality. Crawford was a nasty bastard, ruthless, and he was letting it show now. If Carrow was going to work for him he needed to see it. ‘I’m not suggesting you had anything to do with topping the kid, I never heard that off no one. But the general impression – over here anyway – was that you were on the payroll somewhere. Weren’t you on police bail for ages?’
Carrow put down his bottle and made to leave. What he really wanted to do was hit the man. Crawford grabbed his arm. ‘Hold on.’ Carrow saw Kieran look over. There was Pricey, another of Crawford’s men, standing beside him. ‘Sit down for a minute.’ Crawford pushed him back on to the barstool.
Sadie walked into the spotlight. ‘Good Evening Gentlemen! I would like to welcome you all here to Spotted Hippo tonight, home of Birmingham’s most beautiful girls. We’re already filling up, if you’ll pardon the expression, and so we are going to start our entertainment a little earlier than usual. Are you all in the mood? You will be soon, for the fabulously talented and very beautiful Tania is going to get our evening off to an exciting start.’ And with a flourish towards the pole nearest to her, Sadie left the stage. Music started, the spotlight narrowed to a circle around the pole, and to a loud cheer from the audience Tania walked into it.
Crawford now leaned very close into Carrow’s ear, shouting above the music. ‘Look. I’m making you an offer of work. A very good offer.’ He nodded towards Kieran and Pricey. ‘Those blokes over there would kill for it.’
‘No pun intended?’
‘I’m just being clear with you. You must know the kind of rumours that circulate when you get into that sort of business. All I am saying is that over the next few days I would like you to continue to earn the money I’ve already paid. There’s a little bonus I will put your way for keeping me in touch with the Stretton case and—’
‘How do I do that?’
‘Old mates, dummy. Have a night out with your old mate Jack Stevens. He’s still Dowd’s assistant, isn’t he? Just let me know the way things look. Then when I put the word out in the next couple of days that I’m taking on a few doormen you come along for the interview. If you don’t turn up – well I’ll know, won’t I? It’ll be like clinking glasses and saying cheers. Fair enough?’
‘Fair enough.’
As Sadie walked past, Crawford reached for her wrist, lifted her hand and kissed it. She smiled beyond him at Carrow. ‘Darling, you can put someone on here in about ten minutes, but before you go, do me a favour and pop behind the bar for a couple of bottles, for me and my friend Craig here, will you love?’
Both men watched Sadie crouch down and collect the bottles. Placing them on the counter, she looked at Carrow. ‘Would you like the top off?’
‘Not immediately.’
‘Just let me know when you’re ready.’
‘Get out of here you shameless hussy,’ Crawford laughed.
‘Yes, sir. Whatever you say.’
They watched Tania going through her routine on the pole. Darren came over and opened the bar. Soon there were several other men around them. ‘I’m going to have a word with Kieran, find out why he’s on that bloody phone all the time. Darren, look after him.’
When Tania finished to loud cheers, Sadie came back on stage for a bit of banter with the crowd. She mentioned a couple of stag nights that were in, built up the next session of three girls dancing together, and told the men to treat all the girls with respect.
This is all right, Carrow was thinking. He felt relaxed now. This world. Girls. Money. Perhaps he could be part of it. For a while anyway. Despite the effect the booze was having, there was still a voice somewhere telling him to be careful, going on about a line he shouldn’t cross. But another couple of swallows of Prague Blonde and he could hardly hear it at all.
Crawford returned. ‘He’s going to be out the door if he’s not careful,’ he muttered.
‘Who?’
‘The fucking Irishman. Kieran. Please boss, can I have a few hours? Got to rush off. These last few weeks he’s been all over the place. It’s some bloody woman he’s taken up with.’
Carrow pushed the thoughts away. He was starting to feel pissed. ‘Listen, boss.’ Crawford noticed the word. ‘I know this may be a bit awkward now that Kieran’s done a runner for a bit, but you know what you said about letting Sadie off early?’
39
Carrow heard only the television as he padded down the stairs and opened the kitchen door. Sadie, in a pink towelling robe, her red hair tied up on her head, was at the counter filling lunch boxes. Three children seated at the counter looked towards him. There was a moment when everyone was still, taking things in. Another one with a thing for black men, Carrow thought. ‘Morning all.’
The two girls at the table looked at each other. ‘Told you,’ one said to the other. ‘Told you she’d got someone back. I heard them.’
The boy rose from his seat pushing his cereal bowl across the table. ‘Mom!’ he wailed. ‘You said. You promised you weren’t going to be a slag no more.’
‘Shurrup, Marley. This man’s a friend from work.’ She looked over to Carrow. ‘Do one for a minute, will you?’ As she moved across to her son, Carrow noticed the television screen. The Mendy. A police car outside Walton Tower. ‘That’s where I live,’ he told them. ‘On the Mendy. What’s happened?’
‘They found a baby. Dead,’ one of girls said. ‘Dumped in a bin. It’s been on twice already.’
‘Mom you said—’
‘Okay, Marley.’ Sadie tried to take the boy in her arms but he squirmed away from her. ‘Carra, give us a few minutes, will you? I’ll bring you a drink up. My friend’s taking them to school for me. They’ll be gone in ten minutes.’
‘I’m not going to school,’ Marley yelled, jumping away from his mother. He grabbed his cereal bowl from the tabl
e and flung it towards Carrow in the doorway.
‘Marley!’
What we are most concerned about is the mother. She is probably in need –
‘He’s going to be a right little bastard now, Mom.’
‘Shurrit you.’
‘Leave him alone, Chloe. Marley—’ Sadie crouched down to her son. ‘Look at me.’
Carrow turned and went back upstairs.
The water wasn’t hot enough. What he needed now was it steaming hot. So hot it burnt. He wanted to wash everything away and he could only do that if the water was so hot it hurt. Instead he just soaped and soaped, kicking the sudsy liquid towards the drain.
A terrible feeling had overtaken him. Dirtiness. Disappointment. He was sliding into a situation he wouldn’t be able to get out of. All this craziness over Ruthie Slayte and now he was here shagging some kids’ mother. Two voices in his head.
One saying: Why are you getting so stressed up, mate? It’s okay. You’re a young bloke on the make. That’s what you are, that’s what you do. An opportunity comes along and you take it. Like all blokes do.
But there was the other voice: is this who you really want to be?
He couldn’t see his old mate Jack Stevens ending up in this situation.
It was a good night, he told himself. She was happy. You were happy. Nobody got hurt.
There was a shadow behind the shower curtain, and the girl from last night was back. ‘Brought you a drink.’ She put a mug of coffee in the washbasin. Turned to Carrow. ‘I’d planned for us to do that together. I was looking forward to soaping you down. The kids will be gone in a few minutes. I’ll get you something to eat, then I’ll just have to see if I can get you dirty again.’ She let the curtain drop.
The gym makes everything better. Carrow set ten kilometres as his target and programmed it into the running machine. Kill or cure. He hit Start at 13k: a steady pace. Finley Quaye was playing. For five minutes Carrow held the rhythm of the run. It wasn’t hard. Finley played his part, warbling away nicely over his reggae rhythms, a place for Carrow to latch on to. It’s always the mind with exercise. You’ve got to find a place to park the mind. Finley was doing the trick. Those old mellow notes. He would stay with those, then at five kilometres up the speed to 16k – just for two kilometres, then he’d come down a bit. And it was good. Going fast. Going. His body working: all of it, racing, pumping away. A fierce synchronicity. Straining away on the machine. Sweat draining everything out of him. Every unclean thing. His breathing. His heartbeat. That’s all there was now. He couldn’t hear Finley any more. It was just the sound of himself. Heart. Blood. Lungs. Feet slapping into the rubber track of the treadmill. But then the thoughts arrived. Signing up with Crawford and what that would mean. Ruthie Slayte. He tried to stop thinking – just run, run. Three little kids round a breakfast table. A baby dumped in dustbins on the Mendy because some poor kid couldn’t cope. The place had been full of coppers when he had gone back to Toga’s for his kit. And more TV vans than there had been in Essex Street last night. Eight kilometres. Perhaps he should let Jack know about Crawford. That his mob was definitely not in on it. Then they could concentrate on the Chinese. Last night he was only able to give a statement about his job at the club. Like all the others. Then just a quick hello with Jack – we must meet up stuff. There hadn’t been the opportunity to say anything else. Could he be sure Crawford wasn’t involved? He’d give Jack a ring, see if – but the pain was too much. His chest was blinding him. His teeth hurt. His teeth hurt. All of them. Every one. He took the deepest pull of air, another gasp, but no, he couldn’t. His fist banged down to reduce his speed. 16, 15 flashed past. Stay at 14. Try 14. But his fist didn’t move. 13, 12. He pulled it away. You can’t go lower than 12. Just for a minute. No. No lower than 12. There was air in his lungs. Eight point eight kilometres. Not much more to go. He took the incline down to 3. He’d stay at 12 until the ten, and then see if he could blast out a further kilometre. Finley was back. So for now. Just listen to Finley.