Exposed

by Roberta Kray

  Vic raised his eyebrows. ‘Not to be sniffed at.’

  ‘Yeah, gold and jewellery mainly.’

  ‘When you say you didn’t take to him, what do you mean by that exactly?’

  Archie frowned and pursed his lips. ‘Just that he wasn’t one of us, not from the East End. He wasn’t what you’d call posh or nothin’, but he weren’t local.’

  ‘Did he say where he came from?’

  ‘Said he’d lived all over, that he preferred to move around. I didn’t like that he had no one to vouch for him, you know? Made me wonder. Could have been anyone, couldn’t he? Could have been one of you lot. That’s why me and Don decided to do some digging of our own. Make sure he was kosher.’

  ‘And that’s when you found out he was working for Albert Shiner.’

  ‘Yeah, the photo place in Chigwell. Followed him, didn’t we? Being careful like, so he wouldn’t spot us. He’d told us his address and that checked out so we drove over there one morning, early, about half seven. The guy comes out about quarter to nine, walks to Shiner’s and goes inside. Three hours we were sitting there, waiting for him to come out again. And it don’t take three bleedin’ hours to have your photo taken so we reckoned he had to be on the staff.’

  ‘And then?’

  Archie took another long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke towards the ceiling. ‘It was about quarter past twelve before he showed again and took off down the high street. So Don waits a minute or two and then goes inside the shop. There’s a girl behind the desk. “Is Mr Minter around?” he asks, all innocent like. And she shakes her head. “Who?” And Don says, “Jack Minter.” But she reckons there’s no one by that name working there so Don gives her a description and she says, “Ah, do you mean Tom Chase?” So that’s how we found out his real name.’

  ‘Did you ever confront him about it?’

  Archie shook his head. ‘Nah, we reckoned he was just trying to cover his tracks so no one knew his real identity. That way if any of us got picked up after the job, we couldn’t grass him up to you lot.’

  ‘Not very trusting of him.’

  ‘Yeah, well, to hear him speak you’d think he was doing us a favour just by asking us to come along. And I’m not saying he wasn’t smart – the geezer had brains, there’s no denying it – but it takes a team to pull off a job like that.’

  ‘Describe him to me,’ Vic said. ‘Everything you can remember.’

  Archie gave a shrug. ‘Tallish, taller than me anyhow, in his mid-twenties, fair hair, natty dresser.’

  ‘What build?’

  ‘Normal. Average. Slim but not skinny.’

  ‘And his eyes? What colour were they?’

  Archie tapped the ash off his cigarette. ‘Shit, it’s been years. I can’t remember what colour his eyes were. Doubt I even noticed.’

  ‘What about distinguishing marks, scars, tattoos, anything like that?’

  ‘Nah, I don’t think so. Nothin’ obvious anyway.’

  ‘Wedding ring?’

  Archie shrugged. ‘Don’t recall seeing one, but I couldn’t swear to it either way.’

  ‘Any unusual mannerisms?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You know,’ Vic explained, ‘any tics or nervous gestures, odd ways of doing things.’

  Archie pondered on this for a moment, but then shook his head again. ‘Nah, can’t think of anything.’

  ‘You didn’t notice much.’

  ‘Maybe that’s ’cause there weren’t much to notice. He was… I dunno, like anyone else.’

  ‘Come on, there must have been something.’

  ‘I’m trying my best. I only met the bloke a few times.’

  ‘You did a bleedin’ armed robbery with him!’

  Archie knocked back the last of his Scotch, picked up the bottle and poured another hefty slug into the cup. ‘But that’s the thing, see? When you’re on a job, all you’re thinking about is that. There’s sod all else on your mind. You’re fixed on it, concentrating. You’ve got all that adrenalin running through you.’

  ‘Okay,’ Vic said. ‘We’ll go through the details of the job another time, but tell me what happened after Paddy got shot.’

  Archie lowered his head and dived into his drink again. ‘Fuck, I didn’t even see what happened, not really. One minute he’s goading this security guard, right up in his face, waving the shooter round like he’s John bloody Wayne, and the next…’

  ‘Wasn’t the guard tied up?’

  ‘Supposed to have been, but that was Paddy’s job and I don’t think he was with it that day. Me and Don, we both had a snifter before the job, just something to steady the nerves, but I reckon he went overboard. So there he is lying on the floor with a bloody big hole in his guts. Fuck knows how we got him in the van, but somehow we did. And then we couldn’t hang about, not with him being in that state. We weren’t even halfway through the loading – it was a bloody disaster.’

  ‘And how did Minter react?’

  Archie gave a dry laugh. ‘How do you think? All those months of planning and now everything had gone tits up. I mean, he wasn’t going to be best pleased, was he?’

  ‘He was angry?’

  ‘Course he was fuckin’ angry. He didn’t say much, but he had this look on his face, like if Paddy hadn’t already been shot he’d have been more than happy to do the honours.’

  Vic grinned. This was more like it. He could already hear Archie’s words resounding around the courtroom, a damning indictment of Tom Chase’s frame of mind on the day that Paddy Lynch had gone to meet his maker. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Tell me more.’

  23

  Eden woke up on Tuesday morning with a hangover headache, a queasy gut, dry mouth and a fervent intention to never touch alcohol again. Just what she needed when she had a ten o’clock appointment with Elspeth Coyle. She groaned, rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. As she went through the automatic processes of brushing her teeth, showering, dressing and putting on make-up, she reflected on the actions that had led her to this sorry state.

  It had all begun yesterday afternoon when she’d called Tammy, ostensibly to check if she still wanted a lift to the jail on Thursday, but really to pick her brains about Pat Lynch. After her encounter with the reporter, Eden’s nerves had started to fray. And what Tammy had said hadn’t exactly put her mind at rest.

  ‘Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of him. Everyone round here knows Pat. The guy’s a psycho, love. You don’t want anything to do with him. Keep well clear. I mean it. He’s the kind of trouble you never want to see coming your way.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she’d tried to joke. ‘I thought you might say something bad about him.’

  ‘Is this to do with your old man?’

  ‘In a way. Sort of. I mean, it’s complicated.’

  ‘It always is, hon. Look, do you fancy coming over later? I’m a bit tied up right now, but I can get my mum to babysit for a couple of hours this evening. We can grab a drink and you can tell me all about it. Or not, if you don’t want to. To be honest, I’d just be glad to get out of the flat for a while.’

  Eden had hesitated, but suddenly the idea of company – especially the company of someone who could relate to what she was going through – had been an appealing one. And maybe she could find out more about Pat Lynch, although she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. ‘Okay. Why not? Shall we say half seven?’

  ‘That’s good for me. See you then.’

  Eden had gone over to Shoreditch with the firm intention of only telling Tammy the bare minimum, but by the time she’d embarked on her third glass of wine, most of the story had already tumbled out. Still, it had been a relief to get things off her chest. Tammy had listened, wide-eyed, asking questions when Eden paused for breath.

  ‘So you reckon this Minter bloke is out to stitch him up, then?’

  ‘Who else can it be?’

  Tammy had nodded. ‘Exactly.’ She’d had the good grace not to point out the obvious – that Tom could be th
e one who was lying – but instead had been kind and sympathetic. ‘And if this French girl gets back to you… What did you say her name was?’

  ‘Ann-Marie.’

  ‘Yeah, well that could make a real difference, couldn’t it?’

  Now, in the cold light of day, Eden wondered if she’d said too much. But where was the harm? And sometimes you just had to trust people. She’d asked Tammy not to say anything to anyone else and she’d promised she wouldn’t.

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t say a word, I swear.’ Then Tammy had grinned at her over the rim of her glass. ‘What did you say that reporter’s number was again?’

  ‘Don’t even joke about it.’

  ‘Sometimes you’ve got to laugh, hon. Otherwise it drives you crazy.’

  It had been late by the time Eden got back. She’d caught a cab, although she couldn’t remember much about the journey. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea. She had only a few blurry memories of white streets, of cars blanketed in snow, of the tinny sound of the driver’s radio. And then, after getting home, she’d rolled straight into bed without even brushing her teeth.

  Eden forced herself to eat a slice of toast, downed a cup of coffee, and headed out for her meeting with Elspeth. She was in no fit state to drive and so walked instead to Angel Tube where she waited for a 73 bus that would take her to Victoria. By the time it arrived, twenty minutes later, her fingers and toes were turning to ice.

  She went upstairs on the double-decker, found a seat and began trying to get her thoughts in order. What did she need to ask? What did she need to know? All she really wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep for the next ten hours. She felt groggy and vague and in no fit state to be discussing finances.

  Eden kept glancing at her watch as the bus trundled along. Had she left enough time? She didn’t want to be late. Elspeth Coyle wasn’t the type to appreciate lateness. In fact she was more than likely to cancel the appointment. ‘Come on, come on,’ she urged as the bus stopped at yet another red light. What was it with the stupid lights today? They seemed to be conspiring against her.

  By the time Victoria Station came into view, Eden had only minutes to spare. She shot off the bus as it was pulling into the stop, hurried across the busy forecourt and legged it along Wilton Road. As she entered the office, red-faced and out of breath, she could feel the heavy, aching rhythm of the hangover throbbing in her head.

  The receptionist gave her a dubious look. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Eden Chase. Hi. I’ve got a ten o’clock with Elspeth Coyle.’

  The woman checked her book and gave a nod. ‘If you’d like to take a seat.’

  Eden had no sooner sat down than the receptionist picked up the phone, tapped in a number, had a brief exchange with the person on the other end, and then looked over at Eden. ‘Ms Coyle will see you now. Up the stairs, second door on your right.’

  Eden stood up again. ‘Thank you.’

  A minute later she was in the office, shaking hands with Tom’s accountant. Elspeth Coyle was in her fifties, one of those stern-looking women with cropped iron-grey hair, shrewd eyes and a forbidding expression. She reminded Eden of her former headmistress.

  ‘Sorry to hear about Tom’s troubles. How is he?’

  ‘Still in shock, I think.’

  Elspeth gestured for her to sit down. ‘Well, that’s understandable. And how are you?’

  ‘I’m okay, thanks. Well, you know, trying to make sense of it all.’

  Elspeth offered her a drink, but Eden declined. Her headache was growing more intense and she just wanted to get on with things. She watched as the older woman flipped open a file and began to peruse the contents.

  ‘Mm, where to start?’

  Eden, unsure as to whether this was a rhetorical question, said nothing.

  Elspeth looked up. ‘I’m presuming Tom could be on remand for quite a while?’

  ‘About six months, I think, before it comes to trial. Unless we can… Obviously we’re trying to prove his innocence, get the evidence together and…’

  ‘And in the meantime you’ve still got all the expenses of the studio, but with none of the income.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Elspeth gave a thin smile. ‘A state of affairs that can’t go on indefinitely.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And looking at these figures, the business will be in the red sooner rather than later – unless you have other funds you can transfer into it?’

  ‘Not really,’ Eden said. ‘There’s a couple of thousand in our current account, but the mortgage needs paying, and the bills and all the rest. I’m at college at the moment so I’m not earning anything.’

  Elspeth’s eyebrows shifted up. ‘That could be a problem.’

  ‘I know. I’ll have to start looking for a job.’

  ‘A well-paid job if you want to keep the studio on for any length of time.’

  Eden, who had never had a well-paid job in her life, gave a sigh. ‘What are the chances?’

  Elspeth shook her head. ‘You’ve got rent, rates, utilities, not to mention salaries. Is it still just the one employee?’

  ‘Yes, Annabelle.’

  ‘I presume you’re going to let her go?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Do it soon, then. The longer you wait, the more you’ll have to pay. And you’ll have to give notice on the studio, so I’d suggest you make a fairly quick decision on that too.’

  ‘But everything could change in a month or two. Tom could be out. I don’t want to get rid of the studio if I don’t have to. It’s his business. He’s spent years building it up. That place means everything to him.’

  ‘There are plenty of other studios.’

  ‘Not like this one.’

  ‘Well, obviously you’ll need to discuss it with Tom, but sometimes you need to be practical about these things and not let your heart rule your head. I’m sure he doesn’t want you living in penury just to keep hold of it.’

  Eden’s headache continued to beat in her temples. ‘Actually, there was something I wanted to ask. Do you know anything about the money that was transferred from Munich into the business account? There were two payments, thirty thousand about five years ago, and another five last year.’

  Elspeth gave her a wary glance. ‘What does Tom say about it?’

  ‘I haven’t had the chance to ask. It was some kind of loan, I think. The police mentioned it on Friday.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘As you say, I believe it was a loan.’

  ‘But from whom?’

  ‘I have no idea. Surely Tom is in a better position to answer that than me?’

  Eden bristled at the response. She had a feeling Elspeth knew a damn sight more than she was letting on. ‘Tom’s locked up. He isn’t in a position to say anything.’

  There was a brief silence while the two women eyed each other across the table. ‘I’m sorry,’ Elspeth said, ‘but I really can’t help.’

  ‘The police think it came from the robbery.’

  ‘So Tom should be able to put them right.’

  Eden spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Except Tom won’t tell them anything.’

  ‘Sometimes that’s the best way.’

  ‘Meaning what, exactly?’

  ‘Meaning it isn’t always wise to show your cards before you have to.’ Elspeth leaned forward and, despite the fact they were alone, lowered her voice. ‘Sometimes it’s smarter to play them close to your chest. If the police think they know something for a fact, and that fact can later be proved to be a falsehood, then… well, would you rather the mistake was revealed now or when Tom was standing in front of a jury?’

  Eden could see her point. ‘So you do know where the money came from?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I’m speaking purely hypothetically. All I’m saying is that he could have his reasons for keeping quiet at the moment.’

  Eden put her elbows on the desk and rubbed her face with her hands. She didn’t
like being kept in the dark; it made her feel tense and anxious. In a couple of days she could ask Tom about it, but until then she’d have to be patient. ‘Okay,’ she said wearily. Unable to think of anything else to discuss, she unhooked the strap of her bag from the back of the chair and prepared to leave. ‘Thanks for your time.’