by Roberta Kray
Tammy caught up with her at the lockers and gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘It’s always tough the first time. You okay?’
Eden nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s him I’m worried about.’ She took out her coat and put it on. Unable to keep her fears to herself, she suddenly blurted out, ‘What if something happens to him? What if he just gives up and —’
‘You can’t think that way, love. You’ll drive yourself mad. And he’ll be all right. I’ve told Pete to keep an eye on him – he owes me for all these damn visits I have to make – and he’ll show him the ropes, tell him what’s what.’
Eden gave her a grateful smile. ‘Really? Doesn’t he mind?’
‘Why should he? It’s not as though he’s got anything better to do. He knows what it’s like when you first go in; it takes a while to get used to things.’
‘Thanks. That’s really good of you.’
Tammy gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘We’ve all got to help each other, haven’t we? It’s the only way to get through these times.’ She took her bag out of the locker, threw it over her shoulder and shut the door. ‘You take care, hon. Maybe I’ll see you next week.’
Eden, remembering what Tammy had told her about having to catch two buses, came to a quick decision. ‘Would you like a lift home? I’ve got the car. It’s no trouble.’
Tammy looked surprised. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I don’t mind. Shoreditch isn’t that far from me and it will save you having to wait around. Come on, it’s the least I can do.’
‘Well, if you put it like that. Thanks. You’re a star. Those buses are a nightmare, especially in weather like this. A bit of snow and they all go into hiding. Can’t say I was looking forward to freezing to death.’
The two women took their locker keys to the desk and retrieved their deposits. They walked out of the door and along the short path. It was as they stepped on to the street that a man suddenly appeared and planted himself directly in front of Eden.
‘Excuse me. Are you Eden Chase?’
Eden stared back at him, startled. The man was in his late twenties, skinny and pale, with an almost feverish expression on his face. ‘Who are you?’
‘Jimmy Letts, the Hackney Herald. Is it true that your husband has been charged with the murder of Paddy Lynch?’
‘W-what?’ Eden stammered.
‘Paddy Lynch,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve heard he left him to die in the back of a van. How do you feel about that?
Eden could feel the blood draining from her face. ‘Tom is innocent. He didn’t do it.’
‘So you’re standing by him? Is that the situation? Even though he’s an armed robber? How do you feel about —’
Tammy shoved her face into the reporter’s and snarled, ‘How she feels is none of your fuckin’ business. Just leave her alone, okay?’
‘All I’m doing is —’
‘I know what you’re fuckin’ doing, you filthy little creep. Just shift your skinny arse and get the hell out of our way or we’ll have you for harassment.’ And then before Jimmy Letts could respond, she grabbed hold of Eden’s arm and started dragging her along the street. ‘Don’t say another word to him, hon. He’s scum. Whatever you say, he’ll twist it around.’
Eden’s legs had gone weak at the knees and her head was spinning. The press! Christ, she hadn’t even thought about the papers. Not properly. And not like this. She’d never expected to be accosted in public. As she stumbled along beside Tammy, her guts were doing somersaults. She felt sick, overwhelmed. Just when she’d thought it couldn’t get any worse, it had.
15
Jimmy Letts slid into the driver’s seat of the clapped-out Cortina and turned to his passenger. ‘You get some decent shots of her?’
‘Yeah, a few. She didn’t look best pleased. Think you must be losing your charm, Jimmy. What do you reckon? Did she know what Tom Chase did before she married him?’
Jimmy shrugged as he pulled his seatbelt across. He didn’t much care one way or the other. What he was after was a juicy story and this one had all the makings of a classic: an attractive redhead, a psychopathic husband, and a murder. He smacked his lips at the prospect. ‘Sex and death. You can’t beat it. We’re on to a winner here. When do you think you can have those snaps ready?’
Colin Preston winced at the question, his lips pursing together. ‘They’re not snaps, Jimmy. I don’t take “snaps”.’
‘Okay, keep your knickers on. Pictures, then, photos, works of bleedin’ art – whatever you want to call them. You’ll bring them round tomorrow, yeah?’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘And not a word to anyone, right? We’ve got a head start on this one. If we play it smart, we’ll be looking at an exclusive.’
‘I know the score. You don’t need to spell it out.’
Jimmy started the car, but the engine immediately stalled. ‘Bloody thing,’ he muttered. It took another two attempts before the Cortina finally decided to cooperate.
‘You should get yourself a new motor. This heap of scrap is on its last legs.’
‘You prefer to walk, then? I can stop here if you like, or drop you off at the bus stop.’
Colin Preston scratched the back of his neck and grinned. ‘Okay, okay, just saying, that’s all. No need to be touchy. No need to bite my head off.’
Jimmy knew he was trying to rile him because of what he’d said about the snaps. Tit for tat. Preston was a pain in the arse at times. As if he needed reminding that he was driving around in a heap of junk. How the hell was he supposed to afford anything better on the salary he got? What he needed was a break, a chance to make a proper name for himself, and he wasn’t going to get that working on the Hackney Herald.
‘You need to relax, Jimmy. You’re all wound up.’
‘Maybe that’s down to the company I’m keeping.’ Jimmy tapped out a restless beat on the steering wheel. He was on edge, hyped up. What if some other reporter caught on to the story and beat him to it? He was pretty sure he was on his own at the moment, but in this game it could all change in the blink of an eye.
‘You’ll give yourself a heart attack, mate.’
Jimmy ignored him and stared out through the windscreen at the long line of traffic edging its way forward through the snow. The wipers swept back and forth, making an ugly scraping sound against the glass. He thought about his job at the Herald, seven tedious years of council meetings, summer fairs and Nativity plays. And nothing was going to change unless he made it change.
‘So what next?’ Colin asked.
‘We sit on it for now. I’ve still got people to see.’
In truth, Jimmy had been hoping to get more out of Eden. Sometimes shock did that to a person; they spoke before they thought, spewing out all kinds of shit: a few good quotes to scatter through the story. He would have got more if the other girl hadn’t interfered – she was a piece of work, that one – pushing her face into his, and dragging Eden away before she’d had the chance to say anything more than her husband was innocent.
Jimmy gave a snort. Innocent? That was a joke. He’d heard a whisper about a deal, about some old lag turning Queen’s evidence and putting Tom Chase right in the frame. It would be a few months yet before it came to trial, but he couldn’t afford to sit on his laurels.
He gave Colin a quick sideways glance. ‘You ever come across this Tom Chase before, then?’
‘Why should I?’
‘I dunno. You’re both in the business of taking photos. Don’t you lot ever get together?’
‘Sure,’ Colin replied drily. ‘All the photographers of London meet up for lunch every third Sunday of the month. We have a nice little chat and show each other our pictures.’
Jimmy raised his eyes to the heavens. ‘I was only asking. Thought your paths might have crossed, that’s all.’
‘Well, they haven’t. What he does, portraits and the like, that’s a whole different ball game.’
‘More upmarket, you mean
?’
‘Different, is what I mean. He ponces about in a studio all day; I go out and about, dealing with real life.’
‘On the mean streets, huh?’
Colin gave him a look. ‘You’re not exactly living the high life yourself.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m working on that.’ To date, Jimmy hadn’t made much progress with digging the dirt on Tom Chase. The guy had only been on the scene a few years, but no one seemed to know where he’d come from. Usually you could piece together someone’s history without much bother, but Chase hadn’t left a trail. Still, that wasn’t surprising. He’d hardly had a conventional career, making the leap from armed robber to fashionable photographer. You had to give the bloke credit just for the sheer damn nerve of it all.
‘He must be raking it in,’ Colin said, unable to keep the envy out of his voice. ‘A studio in Covent Garden. Shit. How much does that cost? I bet he earns more in a day than I do in a month.’
Jimmy sniggered. ‘He’s earning sod all at the moment. Stuck behind bars, isn’t he? And I don’t reckon he’ll be coming out any time soon. That guy’s going down for a long stretch.’
‘If he’s guilty.’
‘Course he’s bloody guilty. I can smell it, mate. I can feel it right here.’ Jimmy took his left hand off the wheel and lightly slapped his guts. ‘Christ, this is going to be one hell of a story.’
Colin lit up a fag, took a drag and gazed thoughtfully at the road ahead. ‘She’s a looker, his missus. When he does go down, she won’t have a problem finding someone else.’
‘Thinking of applying for the post, are you?’
‘You’d do her if you got the chance. Don’t say you wouldn’t.’
‘Nah, I’m more of a blonde man myself. Redheads don’t float my boat.’
‘From what I’ve heard, anything with a pulse floats your boat.’
Jimmy shrugged. Sadly, he hadn’t had a nibble in months. It wasn’t so much a dry spell as a bleeding drought. And girls like Eden Chase never gave him a second glance – even if they were single. No, she was the type to look down her nose at a bloke like him. He had no real evidence for this but chose to believe it anyway. It made it easier to justify what he was about to do: he’d rip her apart if he had to – her story, as well as her husband’s, was going to hit the headlines.
16
DI Vic Banner scratched his balls with his left hand while he lifted his pint with his right. He looked up at the clock. It was a quarter past seven; she was fifteen minutes late already. What was it with women and time? They’d be late for their own bleeding funerals. He gazed around the Soho pub, one of the quieter ones of the area, taking in the shabby furniture, the dark green carpet – pitted with fag burns – and the stained flock wallpaper. Behind the bar, the landlord stared morosely into space.
‘Come on,’ he muttered, hoping that the tart hadn’t changed her mind. She’d better not have. Tomorrow he was seeing Eden Chase, and looking forward to it. He had the larger picture when it came to Tom, but what he needed was the detail. Knowledge was power and he intended to gather every scrap of information he could.
It was another ten minutes before she finally walked through the door, had a quick look round, spotted him, walked over and plonked herself down in the seat opposite to his.
‘You’re late,’ he said.
‘You’re lucky I’m here at all. Have you seen it out there? I had to wait fuckin’ ages for a bus.’
‘So maybe you should have set off a bit earlier.’
She glanced around, wrinkling her nose. ‘And what’s with this place? Jesus, I’ve seen condemned buildings with more charm than this dump.’
‘You said you wanted quiet. This is quiet.’
‘This place has died and gone to hell.’
Vic drank some more of his pint and put the glass down. ‘Tammy, love, much as I’d love to listen to you whining on all night, I’ve actually got things to do – so can you get to the point? How did it go today? Did you talk to her?’
‘I’ll tell you in a minute. How about a drink first? I’m spitting feathers here.’
Vic sighed and stood up. ‘What do you want, then?’
‘Vodka and tonic,’ she said. ‘You can make it a double.’
‘I could, but I won’t.’ Vic went over to the bar, bought the drink and placed it on the table in front of her. ‘So can we get on with it now?’
Tammy took a sip of the vodka. ‘It went pretty good, yeah. You’re now looking at Eden Chase’s new best buddy. She even gave me a lift home. Not bad, huh? Reckon I did a brilliant job, even if I do say so myself.’
‘And what did your new mate tell you, then? What did she say about Tom?’
‘Only that he didn’t do it.’ Tammy gave a smirk. ‘He’s innocent, ain’t he, like all the rest of them poor suckers in there.’
‘You reckon she really believes that?’
‘Hard to say. She might. She might not. There’s things people know for sure, straight up, and there’s things they know in the back of their minds but which they ain’t never going to admit to.’
‘Very profound. I didn’t realise you were so full of wisdom, babe.’
Tammy glared at him. ‘There’s no need to take the piss. Just because I never did much school or nothin’, don’t mean I’m stupid.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I get the message. So is that it? She says he’s innocent? It’s hardly news, love. I already knew that.’
‘She reckons he’s been framed, that this guy who’s accused him is just setting him up. Something about Budapest, a guy called Jack? And you haven’t heard the best bit yet.’ Tammy paused for dramatic effect, lifting the glass to take another swig of her drink. ‘On the way out of the jail, yeah, this shitty hack come out of nowhere, gets right in her face and starts giving her the third degree about her old man. How does she feel about him being accused of murder, blah blah blah. Jesus, you should have seen her. She was freaked out, no kidding. She didn’t have a clue what to do so I jumped in and told him to sling his hook.’
‘You get a name?’
‘Jimmy,’ she said. ‘Betts or Letts, something like that. Said he worked for the Herald.’
Vic shook his head. ‘Never heard of him.’
‘Bit weird-looking, kind of sweaty. Anyway, the thing is she trusts me now. That’s good, ain’t it? And she says she’ll pick me up next Thursday so I’ll talk to her some more then. I mean, it’s going to take a while, yeah? She’s not the type to tell you everything straight off.’
Vic was quietly pleased, although he took care not to show it. ‘You’ve done okay,’ he said. ‘It’s a start. What about Pete?’
Tammy made a gagging gesture, raising two fingers to her throat. ‘Where did you find that bloke? Jesus, that was the longest two hours of my life. He’s not what you’d call a laugh a minute, is he? And by the way, if he wants Tom to believe I’m his sister, then staring at my tits for the entire visit probably isn’t the best way to do it.’
‘Give the guy a break. He hasn’t seen a pair in months.’ Vic’s gaze slid down to her chest and her more than adequate cleavage. ‘You probably put him into shock.’
‘He needs to learn some manners.’
‘Has he got anything on Tom yet?’
Tammy leaned back and crossed her legs. ‘He says he’s working on it although I wouldn’t hold your breath. Reckons Chase keeps himself to himself, that he’s the quiet sort. I don’t think he’s too happy – Pete, that is – about pumping him for information.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s all relative, isn’t it? I shouldn’t think he’d be too happy about a three-stretch either. I mean, shit, I’m not asking him to fuck the guy, just suss out what he’s thinking. I reckon that’s a small price to pay for what he’s getting in return.’
‘You’re all heart.’
‘Just doing my job, love.’ Vic leaned forward and gave her a look. ‘Maybe the lad needs a bit more encouragement.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
<
br /> ‘That you should try being nicer to him.’
Tammy barked out a laugh. ‘You’re kidding, right? No way. That was never part of the deal.’
‘The deal is whatever I say it is, sweetheart.’ Vic paused, his eyes turning cold and nasty. ‘How is that kid of yours, by the way? She must be… what, four or five by now? Be a shame if someone called the Social, tipped them the wink about what her mother does for a living. I’ve heard they frown on that kind of thing. Very narrow-minded, the Social; God knows what they might do.’