Blood Secrets_A gripping crime thriller with killer twists

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  He put his glass gently down on the nearby table. ‘You young kids nowadays it don’t matter what colour you are, you all mix it up and mingle. Not back then. You stayed with your own. There was no way in hell I could’ve ever introduced Babs to my family. Now my son’s mother, on the other hand, was black. My mum really liked that girl and thought I’d settle down. But, if I’m truthful darling Desiree,‘ She loved the way he said her full name, ‘and I’d never tell you a lie – I couldn’t stand her.’

  Dee stared hard at him. ‘So how did you end up doing the duvet dirty with her?’

  He rubbed his jaw and Dee noticed how perfectly clipped and manicured his nails were. ‘I met her at a Blues party.’ He kissed his teeth lightly. ‘One thing led to another and before I know it my son’s on the way.’

  ‘Do you still see him?’

  His face became serious. ‘I did until he was ten, then his mum moved to Toronto and well…’ His lifted his palms. ‘She married and let’s just say he’s got another father now.’

  He got up and moved behind her chair. Placed his hand on her shoulder and said, ‘that’s why you’re so important to me. I’ve already lost one child and now I’ve found you I can’t lose you as well.’ She heard him swallow. ‘It would crack my heart in two.’

  Feeling his grief Dee got up and wrapped her arms around him and hugged tight. He was trembling, poor guy.

  ‘Now I’ve found you I’m not going anywhere.’

  His large hand rubbed her back in a hypnotic motion. ‘I’d never say a bad word about Babs, but that gold…’ The movement of his hand deepened as his voice dropped hypnotically low. ‘Babs is bang out of order. She lied to you, the same way how she lied to you about me.’

  He pulled back and held her gaze. ‘Look around you. I’m a man of means. I’m not saying I was minted back then but my darling Desiree I was on the right track.’ His nostrils flared with barely suppressed anger. ‘You know what really hurts? Knowing my own flesh and blood was out there living with people who weren’t her family when all the time I could’ve given you a good life.’

  Dee hated seeing him like this. Crippled with guilt and almost destroyed. How could Babs have done this to him? Done this to her? God knows she hadn’t wanted to believe him but when Babs had blatantly lied about the gold she’d started thinking what else could Babs be lying about, eh? If Babs had wanted her so much how come she’d let Aunty Cleo bring her up? Let some other woman grow up your kid? What kinda mother was that? And what if…? Dee couldn’t think it. Much less say it; the one thing that had been eating away at her heart with the power of poison…

  As if reading her mind Neville spoke it. ‘Babs never wanted to bring up no brown baby.’

  Her hands tightened around his because Dee felt like she was going to shatter like glass. All the old insecurities she’d felt growing up slapped her in the face. As a kid it had taken root in her head that her white mum hadn’t wanted to be seen with her black kid. Her mum was ashamed of her, couldn’t bare to look at her. Dee was the visible evidence that Babs had gone against the rules of her world and been with a black guy. It was one of the reasons why young Dee had been so angry in life, so wanted to show the world – by hook or crook - she was somebody. And then she’d finally met Babs and been told a different story. Been told that her mum had fought for her, wanted her, loved her. Now Neville was planting those old, rotten seeds again. And they were growing.

  A furious banging at the door made them jerk apart.

  He said, ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

  A furious voice outside yelled, ‘Neville Campbell I know you’re in there. You better give me my daughter back and don’t come with your nonsense that she’s not there coz her motor’s parked here for all the world to see.’

  ‘For crying out loud,’ Dee growled through her teeth as she stomped towards the window, but Neville grabbed her and held her back.

  ‘You let me deal with Babs.’ He stiffened his spine. ‘Us having this out is long over due.’ His hand caressed Dee’s cheek. ‘Stay in here, don’t go near the window. You leave this to me. That woman has hurt you long enough with her lies.’

  Babs was hopping mad on Neville’s doorstep. And scared. Terrified that she’d lost her firstborn forever. One of Neville’s neighbours opened the door, popped her head out and looked at Babs disapprovingly. Stuck up cow.

  Babs clamped her fists on her hips and with a curl of her lip shouted, ‘You got something to say?’

  The woman looked down her snooty nose and quietly shut the door. Babs reached up for the knocker again when the door thrust opened and that evil bastard loomed in the doorway.

  He had the cheek to smile smugly in her face. ‘Do yourself a favour Babs and fuck off back to that miserable, crime-ridden estate you call home.’

  Her head reared back. ‘Crime? You’d know all about that, wouldn’t ya? Sending a grenade to my gaff to get your mitts on the gold.’

  He looked at her as if she were a sack of shit. ‘I think you mean Desiree’s husband’s gold. I suspect that was my great-nephews trying to help their newly discovered first cousin get it back. Fair play to them.’

  ‘As if!’ She sneered. ‘You want that gold for yourself.’ Babs spun around to face the square. ‘Wander what all your lah-di-dah neighbour nobs would think of that? Maybe I should tell them?’

  As she opened her mouth to broadcast the news, he wrapped his arms round her and lifted her up. Startled she kicked and screamed as he carried her round the corner of his house and slammed her into the wall.

  As pain tore into her back he stabbed his finger into her face. ‘Now you listen to me, you washed up old, pathetic woman. No one gives two fingers about what you’ve got to say? Know why? You’re not even worth farting on.’

  If he thought he could put the frighteners on her, he didn’t know Babs Miller. She shoved into him. ‘You give me my daughter back.’

  ‘You hand over the gold and she’s all yours.’

  The man was bloody un-fucking-believable. This goon was still the same selfish prick he’d been all those years ago.

  ‘I know what you’re telling her about me and you know it’s bollocks, every last lot of it. You’re stringing her along coz you want the gold.’

  He gave her a fake, sweet smile and leaned down to her ear. ‘You better believe it doll. She’s lapping it up like a kitten with a saucer of milk. I’ve got her like this.’ His hand curled into a fist. ‘In the palm of my hand and I could crush her any minute.’

  It hit her like a punch to the face. This wasn’t the young, charming Neville whose only care in the world had been his hair and having a good time. No, this Neville was hard and dangerous.

  Fearing for Dee’s life she tried to bolt past him to get to her daughter, but he banged her into the wall again.

  ‘Funny thing is Babs babe,’ he tiled his head and keenly watched her, ‘of all my ladies I ran with back then you were my number one. But you had to go and spoil it by getting in the pudding club—‘

  ‘Like you never had nuthin to do with that,’ she countered outraged. This wanker had the nerve of the devil.

  ‘I had plans, you see.’ The greed blatantly stamped on his face. ‘Plans to make it. Now how’s a fella meant to do that with some kid round his neck like an albatross that needs its nappy changing? Eh?’

  ‘You’re disgusting,’ she spat. ‘The effing pits. You deserve to burn in hell for all eternity.’

  ‘No doubt. But believe you me that daughter of yours is going to be there right along side of me.’ His voice was filled with menace. ‘Give me the gold and you can have mush-brained Dee back.’

  Wearing a smile, part corruption, part triumphant pleasure, Neville left her and waltzed, as easy as you please, back to his house. The very idea that Babs Miller thought she was any match for him wasn’t even worth the time of day. She was as thick as a villain’s police record just as she’d been all those years ago.

  Back then all he’d had to do was crook h
is little finger and she’d been panting after him ready to drop her drawers on his says-so. Babs hadn’t been a slag – he’d give her that – because he’d been her first, but so what? Birds were all the same, claiming to love you to bits and then looking for their moment to get their heels permanently under your table.

  He’d loved his big sister, Pearl, to death when he was young. And where had that love got him? Nearly in the shitter in a Turkish prison. Then she’d gone on her merry way and he’d had no option but to take care of her kids. He’d surprised himself how much he’d taken to those kids because, let’s face it, the ones he’d helped create he didn’t give two fucks about. And that included Desiree Black. The girl must be missing a couple of screws if she thought he really wanted to play happy daddy after all these years. Come on! As if! But Dee Black was an essential part of his plan, so he tore the collar of his Armani shirt and flattened his mouth into a grim line.

  And, of course, just as he’d figured, Dee went ballistic when she clocked his ripped shirt. She slammed her glass of fizz on the table and shot to her feet.

  ‘Did Babs do that?’ She was already heading for the door.

  He managed to drag her back, although it wasn’t easy, the fury she was feeling was that strong.

  ‘She’s not worth it.’ He caught her other arm and turned her to face him. ‘I asked her to give you John’s gold, but she weren’t having it.’

  ‘So she finally admitted she’s got it?’

  ‘’Course she did. She wants to keep it all for herself, that’s what she told me. Cross my heart darling Desiree.’

  Dee snapped out of his arms. ‘That bitch. All this time…’

  The window smashed as a brick sailed through it making them duck down.

  ‘Don’t believe a word that comes out of his lying, toerag gob,’ Babs bellowed, her voice hoarse with emotion. ‘He’s evil Dee, pure evil. If you think this is over, you cunt Neville, you’re living in La La Land.’

  Then Dee heard her mum’s sobs as she moved away. Hearing Babs cry still hurt but she hardened her heart. Her mother had stolen John’s gold and then lied about it. And she would never forgive her for that.

  47

  When Patrick Johnson saw the two guys blocking his path on his way to the newsagents he didn’t even turn a hair. For years now he’d had a simple solution to any argy-bargy he might run into on the street - pull out his old warrant card, wave it around and warn, ‘Police officer!’ For those who weren’t hardened crims that was usually enough to make them scarper. Those that were knew it meant he could have a carload of his uniformed mates on the scene within minutes laying the law down with their truncheons if necessary. Mixing it with the cops was not a good look.

  The men wore hats that covered their faces and baggy dark clothes. One was directly in front of him the other standing to one side providing back up if needed.

  The one leading the trouble held up his hand like a highwayman. ‘Alright mate? You couldn’t lend us a tenner, could ya? Only my mum’s in hospital having a baby and I can’t afford the cab fare to get up there.’

  Patrick stopped a few inches from the bloke’s hand and maintained his cool. ‘So, your mum’s having a baby, is she?’

  ‘That’s right.’ His lip curled with cocky arrogance. ‘I’m sorry, you saying she ain’t?’ He turned to his mate. ‘That’s a bit rude that is, him calling me a liar.’

  The other bloke got leery too. ‘That’s well rude. And with you being so polite ‘n’ all and your poor ol’ mum going into labour.’

  This pair of likely lads looked like they were having the time of their lives.

  Patrick decided to nip it in the bud; he wasn’t in the mood for any aggro. ‘My apologies for upsetting you and best wishes to your mother. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my way, I’ll be about my business.’ He kept his voice easy, calm with a respectful tone they didn’t deserve.

  He tried to move around them, but the thug in charge used his hand to block him again. ‘Woah, one minute there cowboy – what about my tenner? I was trying to be nice. Was gonna ask you for your address so I could pop it back through your letter box later.’ His voice changed to a growl. ‘But now you’re trying to piss all over my shoes I think I’ll keep the readies you’re giving me - you know, teach you some manners ‘n’ that.’

  Being a regular polite guy was getting him nowhere so Patrick reached into his pocket for his warrant card. But it wasn’t there. Shit! It must be in one of his other jackets. Going up against these thugs wasn’t going to be easy; he wasn’t as handy on his feet these days.

  The front man drew out a long hunting knife from his waistband when he clocked Patrick’s hand come up empty from his jacket.

  He sneered, ‘Oh dear! Thought you might be keeping some sorta switchblade in your pocket, only it turns out you weren’t. That’s careless that is.’ He was grinning like the village idiot now. ‘The streets ain’t safe no more for unarmed people! You should carry something on ya.’ He turned to his mate. ‘I’m right bruv, aren’t I?’

  ‘You got that right. You never know who you might meet.’

  Patrick considered legging it, but quickly thought better of it. That would only add fuel to fire and one of the biggest lessons he’d learned on the job was to keep the situation under control. Let the bad boys think they had the upper hand until you saw your moment to strike.

  So he allowed the ponce to tap him in the chest with the tip of his blade as he used his free hand to expertly frisk Patrick until he located his wallet. He jerked it out and threw it to his partner in crime.

  Patrick saw his chance and took it. He swung a punch at the knifeman’s head. Even a few years earlier, there would have been more than enough power in his arm to deck the bastard. But not anymore. The bloke staggered backwards slightly but remained on his feet,

  The other man blocked Patrick’s exit route. He was caged. No doubt about it, retribution was going to be paying him a call.

  The man he’d slugged inched closer and closer to him. He hissed, ‘He’s rude and getting ruder!’

  He whacked Patrick across the chops with a powerful, right hook. Patrick tumbled backwards onto the pavement, banging his head as he went. He stayed down. His vision was fuzzy and blurred. Felt like he was seriously pissed after a stonkin’ night out. Above, two misty figures bent over him. They were speaking, but he couldn’t make head nor tail of what they were jabbering on about. He knew he should curl into a ball to protect himself from the blows that were about to fall but his arms and legs felt like lead. The only blow he felt was something landing on his chest. Something soft not heavy.

  His mind went in and out, out and in. How long he lay there for he didn’t know, but when his vision refocused the goons were gone. Instead a middle-aged woman peered down at him, her forehead creased with concern.

  ‘You alright luv?’

  Alright? Did he look alright? ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he answered instead.

  She offered her hand to help him sit up. ‘Took a tumble, did you?’

  He winced as red-hot pain shot through him. The side of his face hurt like a hammer had been taken to it. ‘No, I got roughed up by a couple of muggers.’

  She clucked her tongue. ‘What’s the world coming to?’ She passed him a bottle of the water from her bag. ‘I’ll call the police.’

  Patrick took a swig and felt his trouser pocket. They hadn’t taken his phone so perhaps it was worth putting up a fight after all. ‘No, don’t worry, they’ll be long gone. I’ll call the police later.’

  The woman picked something up. She seemed surprised and held it up for him to inspect. ‘Is this yours luv?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s my wallet.’ He sighed. ‘They’ll have had the money away and then thrown it.’ He decided that must have been what was dumped on his chest.

  He took his wallet and looked inside. Strangely all his cards were there. And the money. He’d had fifty quid and change with him when he’d set out. Quickly he took out the notes and c
ounted.

  Seventy quid.

  That couldn’t be right. He counted again. Definitely seventy smackers. What the fuck was going on here? Who’d ever heard of a mugging where the victim ended up with more money?

  As the woman gazed on with open curiosity he took each note in turn and checked them out. It was on the third twenty that his pulse rate increased. On the back was a message scrawled in black, felt tip:

  ‘Tell your mate Babs to back off.

  Give us what we’re owed.’

  It was signed best wishes and the cheeky beggars had added three big kisses.

  Patrick sat there flummoxed. The woman asked him urgently if he was alright again, but he didn’t hear her. All he could think about was his beloved Babs was in a wagonload of trouble. Again.

  Babs heard the ruckus and raised voices outside on the balcony just as she got the girls and Courtney’s mate Dodgy sat at the kitchen table for their tea. She was still exhausted after the confrontation at Neville’s and missing her eldest daughter like crazy. It was beyond heartbreaking that the only thing that kept her mind off Jen was the split with Dee.

  ‘’Ere,’ she told the girls in a light voice trying to sooth over their concern, ‘probably just some of the kids trying it on with Knox.’

  Kieran’s sister was doing a bang up job of playing guard dog and had become the latest curiosity for many of the kids on The Devil who would peep around the corner of the balcony in awe to get a sneak peak at the huge woman sat in a chair usually with a brew in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. They’d never seen the like.

  ‘I won’t tell you again mister to back the fuck off,’ Knox loudly warned. Babs could imagine the froth foaming at the corner of her mouth.

  ‘You better get out of my way before I pitch you over the balcony.’ A man’s voice. Babs’ brows snaked together. His voice was muffled, which was odd because Knox’s was so clear.

  Babs smiled down at the girls. ‘You tuck into your haddock and chips.’