Blood Secrets_A gripping crime thriller with killer twists

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  This was killing her. Her heart hurt so much. Babs shook her head and with whispered anguish implored, ‘There’s no point to this…Patrick. I know you’re gonna ask me out, like you always do, but we’re from different worlds.’

  His fingers tightened on her shoulders as his features fixed with determination. ‘But we’re older now Babs. The world has moved on.’ He never took his eyes off her. ‘I’m not a cop anymore, I’m a middle-aged fella going a bit soft in the tummy.’

  ‘Soft in her head more like,’ she muttered. They both smiled at that.

  ‘I want to see you Babs. Hold you close. Never let you go.’

  Babs wrenched out of his hold. His words tore up her insides with the power of acid. She wanted to scream that at him and more. But what was the point? Best to cut this off at the legs while she still had strength.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you Tricky Dickie.’

  Babs held her head up and walked away with leaden steps. Even when he called,

  ‘I’m going to marry you Babs, just you wait and see,’ she kept going.

  Tie the knot? Was he off his trolley? Babs stepped to it as if a fire had been lit under her bum. Only when she got on the Number 25 bus back home did she let the tears silently fall. Why was life so unfair? Women her age deserved a slice of happiness as well for crying out loud. He was the man of her absolute dreams, but no matter how hard she reached for him the gulf was too wide. Funny how all those years ago Stan, with his silk hankies and slick-backed Brylcreemed hair-do had been the perfect portrait of her soul mate. Her wide-boy knight in shining armour rescuing her from the shame of being up the duff with no man on your arm. Of course, Stanley had turned out to be the devil in disguise, a geezer with badness as his middle name. Throughout almost it all, standing patiently in the shadows, was a man full of goodness. Maybe…? What if…?

  Babs shook her head with misery. Who the effing heck was she kidding? Jen might come around eventually, but Tiff and Dee…Nah! That was asking for an out ‘n’ out war to kick off. Anyways, it was all a non-starter. If Tricky Dickie found out his darling Babs was involved in one of the most infamous blags of recent years he’d have her banged up in a cell In Holloway in a heartbeat.

  From her doorway Pearl had zeroed in on Babs marching with purpose away from that Patrick fella who had come to their meeting. From the looks of things Babs knew the geezer very well. Very well indeed. In fact, Pearl would go as far as putting her neck on the chopping block to say her former next door cellie looked like she was on the verge of crying a river. Interesting!

  ‘Pearl ol’ girl.’ She turned to find Fred standing there. ‘Thought I’d give you the full SP on what Vi’s friend told us.’

  Five minutes later Pearl had the lay of the land – Patrick could do sweet FA. Go to the plods was the advice he gave. Well that wasn’t an option as far as Pearl was concerned. The Bill might tumble about the gold. Plus the cops gave her the willies.

  ‘I’m worried about Vi and Di,’ Fred interrupted her thoughts. ‘I know most times they’re in each other’s pockets, but they seem to be clinging to each other more than usual.’

  Pearl had way too many troubles on her mind to be taking on anyone else’s. ‘You’ve been dying to ask Vi out. Go on, take her for a snifter, might take her mind off things.’

  ‘I’m being serious.’ Still his face blushed as red as his hair had once been. ‘There’s something going on…’

  He wandered off scratching his nearly baldhead.

  Before he got too far Pearl called out, ‘What does that Patrick do?’

  Fred turned slightly, still distracted. ‘He’s put up his truncheon for good now, but he was once a high-ranking copper.’

  12

  Babs wiped the tears from her face. Slapped on some of that Mac powder Dee had got her from Selfridges Up West and got off the bus on Mile End Road.

  ‘You alright me lovely-jubbly Babs?’

  The slurred voice of Ryan Mallory greeted her as she entered The Devil’s Estate. He sat on his usual spot, the crumbling wall near the offy, nursing his poison of choice, a bottle of cheap brandy. She could smell him from here, his clothes in need of the scrubbing of a lifetime, possibly even fumigation. He was The Devil’s resident piss artist. Most took the proper piss out of him, a figure of fun to brighten their miserable lives. Not Babs though. She knew what it felt like to be on your uppers, driven to drink.

  Mind you, you had to be careful with Ryan. He’d skin a kitten for a farthing if it meant he could buy more drink if his cash flow had dried up.

  Babs reached him, not too close mind; the stench coming off him was eye-watering. ‘Thought you’d run off with a supermodel,’ she teased, trying her best to wash away the sadness of seeing Tricky Dickie.

  His bristled jaw moved as he cackled away. ‘Had to give her up for my real lady love here.’ He shook the bottle at her. The laughter left his grizzled face as he touched a dirty fingertip under his eye and then pointed to her block.

  Babs drilled a laser stare into him. He might be the neighbourhood drunk, but, from his perch, he was also the all-seeing-eyes of the estate. No one clocked the ins and outs of what was occurring on The Devil’s Estate like Ryan Mallory.

  ‘You seen something going on at my place?’ Bloody hell, the last thing she needed was more effing trouble. And right on her doorstep this time. ‘Come on, spit it out.’

  Suddenly his face fell. His bloodshot eyes glazed over.

  ‘Me and my Shirley were going to get a flat in your block, but then, in the end, the council decided to put us somewhere else.’ He took a deep, heartfelt breath. ‘My Shirley. What a lady.’

  He took a deep swig from the hard stuff and then started belting out, all out of key, Simon and Garfunkel’s, ‘Bridge Over Troubled Waters.’

  With a dismissive cluck of her tongue Babs left him. Old fool! Probably pointing at her place wanting to reminisce about old times. Well looking back never got a body anywhere, which she knew all too well after seeing Tricky Dickie.

  Babs ran her eye up her block. The four-storey building might not be most people’s idea of paradise, but since ‘72 this had been her castle. She’d been one of the first tenants when the estate had been spanking and sparkling new and full of promise. Babs let out a weary sigh; all good things came to an end.

  The lift was out of order – again! – so she trudged up the stairs. Her dreams of peace vanished as soon as she reached her landing. Now she got it why Ryan had knowingly pointed to her block and then belted out a tune about troubled waters. On her doorstep stood trouble incarnate with two packed bags. She didn’t need this.

  Babs marched down the landing and tersely asked, ‘What the heck are you doing here?’

  ‘What do you want Flo?’

  Babs wasn’t gentle in the asking. After her ding-dong of a day the last thing she needed was Stan’s daughter. Born on the wrong side of the blanket daughter. Jeez. What a gut-wrenching business that had been, finding out what filth Stan had been up to behind her back. And what made it worse was Flo and Tiff were only months apart in age. It made her sick to her stomach to think he’d been dipping his wick with her and some Doris at the same time. Fuck me! If Viagra had been around back then Stan’s plonker would’ve seen the inside of half of London.

  ‘My granddad’s thrown me out.’

  Babs bristled slightly at Flo’s lah-di-dah accent. It wasn’t the girl’s fault Stan had two-timed Babs with some upmarket bint from North London. What added salt to the wounds was Flo’s old girl’s family were loaded. Brought up in the lap of luxury, no doubt attending the best schools while Babs’ girls had gone to the local comp and scarpered as soon as.

  The sweater dress she wore, cinched in at the waist with a thick, brown leather belt didn’t come cheap. The heels with crystal stone straps must’ve cost a pretty penny too. Only her Amy Winehouse jet-back, thick eyeliner and almost falling down beehive made her look like she came off the estate. Babs found it hard to look at the girl without seeing t
hat bastard Stan. Flo was the spit of him, right down to those untrustworthy fox-like blue eyes.

  And, to top if off, Florence’s granddad, The Commander was a sore point in the Miller family. The gold had belonged to him originally – although Babs suspected he’d nicked it off someone else in the first place - and he’d played a very dirty game trying to get it back, including using Flo here as one of his attack dogs.

  Flo hunched slightly, pleading, ‘I haven’t got any other place to go.’

  ‘What about your mum?’ Just thinking about the other woman brought bile to Babs’ throat.

  The girl’s cold lips tightened. ‘Doesn’t want me anyway near her.’ Her words and accent then became Stan Miller’s through and through. ‘Thinks I’m a druggie slag, don’t she? Told me to do one.’

  Babs’ heart did break for this girl. That effing Stan had left a trail of wrecked lives in his wake. Babs hardened her heart. She might feel for the girl but, all things being told, she wasn’t her problem. Flo wasn’t family.

  ‘Maybe you can make it up with your granddad—‘

  ‘Nah,’ Flo cut in, ‘he’s had it with me as well. Told me to make myself scarce coz his cat’s taken against me.’

  Babs was outraged. ‘He told you that? His cat? Put some tabby before his own flesh and blood?’

  They were strange people, the rich. How they ever built an empire or won wars Babs could never fathom.

  Flo nodded vigorously. Her gaze sharpened ever so slightly. ‘And Babs, you did say you wanted me to get to know my dad’s side of the family.’

  That she had. But she’d only meant for the girl to pop around on her invite during special occasions, like birthdays, parties and piss ups. But coming to stop in her gaff? That was crossing a line Babs was adamant would not be crossed.

  Babs pushed the key in her door as Flo stepped hopefully and eagerly forward. Babs used her body to bar her entry.

  ‘Go back to your granddad’s and make it up with his puss. I’m sorry, I can’t have you here.’

  Babs quietly closed the door. Fucking Ada! What a bruising day.

  As she leaned against the door she heard Stan’s daughter’s soft sobs as she walked away along the balcony.

  Kieran Scott shot his load so hard he thought he’d blown his mind. His sweat soaked body collapsed on top of a breathless Lisa. Her hot breath hit him full in the face making him turn his head in disgust. For once in his life couldn’t he find a bird who didn’t munch on fags every minute of every day? Baccy breath stank. Put him in mind of his terrible mum and the old days. He was moving up in the world and what he needed was a woman, not a bird, who could comfortably play the part of his other half. Someone who could get through dinner with his business associates without asking a waiter for ketchup.

  Despite enjoying Lisa’s hot, tasty body she was going to have to go.

  Grinning for all she was worth she got out of bed. Taking her sweet time she sashayed slowly across the bedroom of his two mill plus penthouse in Chelsea, no doubt so he got a front row butchers of her lush bot and stunning legs. She hunted in her designer bag and came back to bed with – and he saw it coming – a fag. At least it wasn’t ketchup.

  Lisa proceeded to curl up next to him and stink the place out. Kieran had had enough.

  He got up and put on his boxers and with his back to her announced, ‘You know what girl, I think we should cool it for a little while.’

  ‘You what?’ She jack-knifed to a sitting position, her perfect boobs bobbing up and down.

  He found his black jeans strewn on the floor and shoved them on. ‘I got a few important business deals on the go and won’t have the time to see ya.’

  Her face drained of colour as she mashed the ciggy out against his headboard. He’d had the headboard imported from Thailand for fuck’s sake. It hadn’t come cheap neither.

  Lisa looked like she’d been slapped round the chops. ‘But…but I thought we were going to become a family.’

  Flippin’ heck. That was the other problem with the bird, she’d been dropping hints left, right and sideways about the house they could buy together, the number of kids they were going to have, his and hers matching pillows.

  Finally he turned to her and laid it on the line, twisting her words to get her gone and soften the blow. ‘See that’s the thing babe, I ain’t in the market for a family. I’m too busy. Got my life all mapped out for the next five years and not a kid in sight.’

  ‘Except the one you’ve already got.’

  He stared blankly at her. ‘What?’

  Her face perking up she crawled across the rumpled sheets towards him. ‘Natty. You’ve got a beautiful son.’ Her face brimmed with the same energy she put into getting her rocks off. ‘You’re a father who needs to claim his flesh and blood.’

  Kieran flinched as if she’d hammered a stake through his heart. Hot temper poured from his eyes. ‘Get your fucking gear and fuck off.’

  She looked stumped. ‘What’s the matter? I’m only speaking the God’s honest truth–‘

  ‘No, what you’re doing is speaking about things that are above your pay grade.’

  Lisa had this strange bewildered expression on her face like he’d ripped her guts out. ‘But everything to do with you is my business.’

  Oh, she was going to be one of those, was she? One of those women who just couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He’d had a few of those in his time. A right, proper nuisance. At least he knew how to deal with one.

  He softened his tone as he walked over to her and pulled her naked flesh into his arms. She clung to him, sticky as poison ivy.

  He deep-throated her for a time, then softly whispered, ‘I’ve got an important client coming into town, so give me a week, yeah? After that we’ll get together, pop some bolly and talk about the future.’

  Lisa squealed and hugged him like there was no tomorrow, while all the time he held his breath against the stale smell of ciggies.

  He eased her gently away and slapped her bum.

  She giggled as he said, ‘Get your kit on. I’m already late for a meet coz I’ve spent way too much time with you.’ He ran his gaze slowly down her very fine figure. ‘Then you’re worth it.’

  As far as he was concerned it took her way too long to drag her clothes on. Once he had her at the door he kissed her again. ‘Wait by the phone for my call.’

  Her eyes shone with hope. ‘Me and you together like it’s meant to be.’

  Kieran leaned heavily against the door once she was gone. She’d soon get the message when he didn’t return her calls.

  Lisa had been wrong and right.

  He didn’t want a family.

  What he wanted was his son.

  13

  ‘You alright mum?’ Jen asked, peering at Babs with concern. ‘You’re looking a bit peaky. You ain’t coming down with that flu doing the rounds?’

  ‘Nah hun.’ Babs plastered on her best smile. ‘Just glad we’re all together. When I was banged up I never thought I’d see a day like this again.’

  A sad silence settled over them at Babs’ kitchen table, each remembering the horror of her being banged up for Stan’s murder. That time away from her treasured family had been the worst years of her life.

  Babs’ heart swelled with a mother’s pride as she looked at each of her daughters in turn. Her eldest Dee was fierce, took no prisoners, but also had a core as soft as pudding once you got to know her. Poor luv had been through the wringer, but her Dee had bounced back, was a proud mum now and on the verge of opening her own club.

  Her biggest worry, once upon a time, had been Jennifer. Her middle girl had been too trusting. That old Jen was long gone replaced by one who had teeth that didn’t hesitate to snap and bite anyone daring to take the rise, especially when it came to her daughters, Courtney and Little Bea.

  And then there was Tiffany. Babs didn’t know whether to grind her teeth or smile. She loved her youngest to bits but also itched to wallop her around her loaf because she coul
d be a right sly one on the side. Tiff had shown up today with her belongings like a refugee. All Babs could pray was this new job she’d wangled at Dee’s club would finally set her straight.

  If her girls twigged the stolen gold was on the loose again...Babs shoved the despairing thought aside but couldn’t stop the shivers sliding down her spine.

  ‘This is a cracking dinner mum,’ Dee complimented, casting an appreciative eye at the spread Babs had put on.

  Steak and Kidney pud, cheesy mash, glazed carrots and string beans from her neighbour Mabel’s allotment. They’d already polished off two litre bottles of Lambrusco.

  ‘You found a nanny for Natty yet?’ Babs asked as she gazed adoringly down at her cherished grandson dozing in his carrycot.

  Dee screwed up her face. ‘I’m interviewing tomorrow at the club.’

  Her eldest girl wasn’t looking forward to handing over her boy to a live-in nanny, but the reality was she couldn’t look after the new club and her kid at the same time.

  Tiff slouched in her seat, knocked back some fizz and asked Jen, ‘How’s Courtney doing? Like going to St. Trinian’s does she?’ She chuckled at her little dig.

  Jen pursed her lips, then huffed, ‘It’s called Egerton Academy, as you well know. It’s a proper school.’ She cut her eyes at her baby sister. ‘Not that you’d know anything about schools since you spent most of your time bunking off.’

  Tiff smirked the type that made Babs want to give her a doughboy. ‘Weren’t my fault that my teachers never understood my peculiar talents. That’s why I was bored outta my nut. Blame the school not the child.’

  Jen weren’t having it, her voice becoming fierce. ‘Your only peculiar talent I’ve seen is rolling spliffs with one hand.’

  Dee banged her fork on the table, only stopping when she remembered Natty snoozing by her feet. ‘Will you two give it a rest?’ She glared at them, pointing her fork in a deadly, stabbing motion at them in turn, her arched eyebrow warning there’d be trouble if they had the brass to interrupt.