They’d had several murders in the area that Jack had been made aware of and, so far, no leads as to who was behind the killings. All they knew so far was that the targets were young gay men. Most of them working in the sex trade; though that didn’t mean that Nancy was completely unassailable. It wasn’t safe to be walking around that canal for anyone, especially in the middle of the night on their own.
‘Yeah, of course,’ Nancy said with a nod, appreciating Jack’s concern. She genuinely didn’t feel the need to pretend around Jack. Clasping her hands tightly around her mug of tea, she savoured the warmth that spread up through her fingers into her hands. She felt colder than ice tonight. Unsure whether the chill that cut her right down to her bones was from the frosty night air, or the shock of her attack. Alex Costa’s revelation thrown in for good measure too. ‘I’m fine. Really.’
Jack didn’t look convinced, recognising Nancy’s cold hard stare, the way her jaw locked between her words as she spoke; she had the same hardened look of her father, that same steely glare. Just like Jimmy had looked when he was riled about something.
‘Honestly, Jack.’ Nancy sighed, sensing his disbelief. Jack’s silence spoke volumes. ‘I’m a big girl. I can look after myself. Whoever it was tried to scare me but, unfortunately for them, I don’t scare easily.’
Jack smiled then. Never a truer word had been spoken. He’d seen it for himself, first-hand. How Nancy would waltz through her father’s offices and warehouses, ignoring the admiring glances she received from some of the younger men that worked there. Not showing a fraction of intimidation at being a young woman in such a male-dominated world. She always acted as if nothing intimidated her. As if no one would get the better of her.
But then, she’d always had her father’s protection. She didn’t have that now.
‘Whoever it was caught me off guard. Maybe Alex was right, after all. Maybe it was foolish of me to walk around the canal on my own, in the middle of the night. I won’t put myself in that position again, and next time, if there even is a next time, I’ll be ready.’
Jack nodded, not wanting to tell Nancy what he was really thinking. That there would always be a next time. Especially in their world. People would be on the take now, ready and waiting to move in on what Jimmy and Alex had spent years building up. Snatching whatever minuscule offerings were there for the taking. Unless Nancy really stepped up, the business would be fair game.
‘I can do this,’ Nancy said with certainty then, and Jack couldn’t help but grin, shaking his head at the determination in her voice. It was the same tone he’d heard a thousand times before from Jimmy – the same tenacity and determination.
She was a Byrne through and through.
Even still, the attack tonight must have shaken her.
‘Are you sure you didn’t recognise whoever it was that attacked you? His voice, his mannerisms? Is there anything you can think of? Anything at all?’ Jack said once more, the detective inspector in him unable to let Nancy’s assault tonight go.
Nancy shook her head.
‘I’ve been wracking my mind ever since it happened. Trying to analyse the sound of the man’s voice, the menace in his tone. He was so close to me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the smell of his rancid breath, or his cheap aftershave. But I didn’t recognise him,’ she said, starting to feel more angry than scared about her earlier encounter. It had been too dark for her to see anything, and she’d been too petrified to think straight.
The attacker had been counting on that. Whoever it was tonight had made their point. Though if they thought that Nancy was just going to let it all lie, they clearly didn’t know her at all.
‘Well, whoever it was, I’m sure that’s the last you’ll see of them now. Especially as, like you say, you didn’t find out anything about your dad’s killer. They can’t threaten you if you don’t know anything,’ Jack said again, drinking back his tea, his eyes not leaving Nancy’s as she simply nodded back at him.
The sound of Joanie Byrne’s voice suddenly filled the kitchen as the woman entered the room.
‘Well this looks very cosy!’ she said, as she padded across the cold marble kitchen floor, her dressing gown pulled tightly around her slim frame, her obligatory curlers rolled neatly on the top of her head. A creature of habit, even when her head was all over the place.
‘Sorry, Nan, we didn’t mean to wake you…’
‘Ahh, you didn’t, child. It’s almost half past four and I haven’t slept a wink all night myself. Been lying there staring at the ceiling listening to your grandad snoring for England in the next bloody bedroom. How I didn’t go in there and smother him I really don’t know. Not that I would have slept much tonight anyway, I guess… Jesus, Nancy! What happened to your face?’ Stepping closer to where Nancy was sitting, Joanie suddenly caught a glimpse of her granddaughter’s face. The dimly lit table lamp had masked it from a few feet away, but now up close there was no mistaking the cut on the girl’s face. The swell of her right eye. Her voice fraught with panic then, she’d always been so protective of her Nancy. She loved the girl as if Nancy was her own daughter. ‘What in God’s name has happened, Nancy?’
‘She fell,’ Jack said, quickly. Hoping to save Nancy from a tirade of questions and sympathy. Only Nancy spoke at the same time. In unison.
‘I was attacked, Nan.’
The room fell silent as Joanie looked questioningly from Jack to Nancy. The pair of them looking sombre now as the older woman tried to process what she’d just heard.
‘Attacked? By who? Are you okay?’ Joanie’s voice shook. Stepping forward to hug Nancy tightly to her, the woman wrapped her arms so firmly around her granddaughter it was as if her life depended on it. ‘Who would do such a dreadful thing? On the night of your father’s funeral too?’
‘Who indeed?’ Nancy said sadly. ‘I’m okay though, Nan, really. It looks worse than it is. Just a few scrapes and bumps. It was my own fault for walking down Brentford Canal on my own in the first place.’ Insisting that she was okay, breaking away from the woman’s hold. Playing down the attack as much as she could. The last thing she wanted was her nan fussing over her. The woman had enough to deal with right now without Nancy adding to her worry.
‘We should call the police,’ Joanie said, for the first time in her life not sure what else she should do. ‘Report it,’ she said now, horrified. Just the idea of someone hurting her one and only granddaughter making her blood run cold.
‘Jack is the police.’ Nancy laughed then. Trying to ease her nan’s hysterics. ‘Honestly, Nan, it’s nothing. Probably just some silly drunk trying his luck to mug me; only, he soon scarpered when he realised I didn’t have my handbag with me.’
Unconvinced, Joanie narrowed her eyes, scrutinising Nancy. The girl was lying to her. She had always been able to tell when Nancy tried to palm her off with a fib. The girl had the same mannerisms as her father, and Joanie had always known when Jimmy was lying too.
‘Is that so?’ Joanie cast her stare to Jack then, instead. Her eyes boring into his, as if challenging him to lie to her once more tonight.
But Jack knew better than to deceive the woman. So, instead, he just shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to get involved in a spat between the two women.
Nancy could be a stubborn cow when she wanted to be, but she wasn’t fooling anyone, certainly not Joanie. The old woman didn’t miss a trick.
‘Will I wake your brother? Or your grandad? Not that your granddad will be much use to you. He’s not much use to any of us really.’
‘No, Nan! I’m fine, honestly. There’s no point waking everyone up and making it into a big drama. It’s my own fault. I should never have gone off on my own tonight. Really, I’m fine. I just need to get my head down and get some sleep.’
‘If your father was here, he’d know what to do.’ Joanie started crying then. ‘My Jimmy would take control of things like this. He always knew what to do. How to keep us all safe.’ That’s who they’d always depended on when th
e shit had hit the fan in this household. Her Jimmy. Only, he was gone. The realisation hitting Joanie once more like a physical blow to her stomach. She slumped down onto the seat next to Nancy, unable to hold back her tears.
‘Nan. Please don’t cry,’ Nancy said as she reached for her nan’s hand, placing her palm over the top of it. ‘We’ll all be okay, Nan. In time, you’ll see.’
Joanie nodded. More than anything else in the world, she really wanted to believe that, too, but how could she? Her son hadn’t even been in the ground for twenty-four hours and already his daughter had been attacked.
There would be worse to come. Joanie was certain of it. She’d been unwittingly part of this lifestyle for long enough to know that there was no honour amongst thieves when it came to making money. It was every man for himself.
Still, the last thing she wanted to do was scare Nancy any further than she already had been tonight.
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without him here,’ she wailed.
Nancy felt her own tears then. Spilling out, down her cheeks. Her own loss magnified by the grief and pain that she could see so clearly in her nan. How, overnight, her nan looked as if she’d aged a decade. Her eyes sunken, their sparkle gone. The lines on the woman’s face etched deeper into her skin than Nancy ever remembered. As painful as her father’s death had been to Nancy, Joanie’s pain ran far deeper. No mother should ever have to witness her own child’s body being placed into the ground.
‘I’ve only just put the kettle on, Joanie. Let me make you a nice cup of tea,’ Jack said then, sensing the moment between the two women, and wanting to make himself useful.
‘Tea? What was it with everyone these days that, no matter what happens, they think a cup of poxy tea is some kind of solution? All the tea in China isn’t going to make me feel better. What I want you to do, Jack, is get your arse down to Brentford Canal and look for the bastard that did this to Nancy.’ Joanie looked at Jack expectantly, the disappointment on her face blatantly obvious.
‘The fucker’s probably long gone now, Joanie…’ Jack said, and then, on seeing the stern look on Joanie’s face, the fury in her eyes, he took the hint. ‘Of course I’ll go.’
Pulling his leather jacket around his broad shoulders, he nodded, as Joanie knew he would. ‘Are you all right now, Nancy, if I get off?’
‘Thanks for bringing me home,’ Nancy said, making eyes at Jack as if to apologise to him for the fact that her nan wouldn’t just let this go.
‘Try and get some sleep. I’ll pop back tomorrow and see how you’re doing, okay?’
The two women sat in silence as Jack left.
‘If anyone can find the bastard, Jack will,’ Joanie said, her voice full of certainty. Satisfied now that someone was at least doing something to try and find out who attacked Nancy. ‘Now come on, drink up and let’s get you off to bed, my love,’ she said, pressing her hand against Nancy’s arm, breaking the younger girl’s thoughts. The poor girl looked exhausted. They all were. The events of the past couple of weeks had been too much for any one family to have to go through.
Nancy nodded. Even though she knew that, as tired as she was, there would be no sleep for her tonight. How could she when they were all lying in their beds, blissfully unaware that her father’s killer was known to them all.
A murderer amongst them.
That was why she’d been attacked tonight. That’s why she was being warned off. She’d lied to Jack and Alex when she’d said her contacts hadn’t found anything. They had. Nancy knew who her father’s killer was, and she wasn’t going to sleep again, nor grieve properly for her father, until he’d been dealt with once and for all.
She promised herself that.
Chapter Six
Ignoring his children’s continual cries as they echoed around the tiny bedsit, filling both the tiny space and his head, Gem Kemal slumped down onto the chair at his kitchen table. A defeated man, he stared around the grotty, cramped bedsit that he and his family had been forced to call home for the past three years. This was it. He worked himself into the ground, day in day out, and this was all they had to show for themselves.
Miyra and the children were the only things that kept him going. The only reason that he managed to drag himself out of his bed each day and face his two jobs. All so he could keep this roof over their heads, and a roof was pretty much all his money stretched to. The rent here was extortionate. The landlord, yet another opportunist cashing in on Gem and Miyra’s desperation to live in England, charged them a small fortune for the privilege. The place was not much more than a slum. The walls of the bedsit were thick with black mould. The carpets threadbare. There were two single beds that the four of them were forced to share; Gem and Miyra each sleeping with one of the children. Gem could barely remember what it felt like to share a bed with his wife alone any more.
Exhausted from working the night shift at the club, he forced himself to summon up some energy for the busy morning that he knew he had ahead of him. His boss had called him in again, for a so-called meeting, which only meant a day of running errands, Gem expected.
‘You look tired, Gem!’ Miyra Kemal said, rubbing her husband affectionately on the shoulder before busying herself making him a warm drink, just as she always did when he came home between shifts. The fact that she’d been up all night with their two sick children not even factoring in her head. Gem still had work to do, she was tired, yes. But she could try and sleep this morning.
Gem loved that about Miyra. How his wife always put everyone else ahead of herself. So selfless, and giving. He loved this time of the morning, too: 6 a.m., just before the sun was up, when they both stole a rare few moments together before Gem ventured back out to work.
‘How did last night go?’ Miyra asked, heating up some water in a saucepan on the camping stove that Gem had bought for them after the electricity board had disconnected them for not keeping up with their payments.
‘Same as every other night,’ he said, not wanting to burden Miyra with the minor details of his workload. Miyra didn’t need to hear any of that.
Pushing the pile of unopened and unpaid bills to the edge of the table, away from him so he didn’t have to stare at them any longer, Gem rubbed his throbbing head. Out of sight, out of mind. Wasn’t that what the English liked to say? Though with the threat of the landlord kicking them out, and the amount of debt they had hanging over their heads, their money troubles were never out of mind.
‘You wouldn’t believe the amount of money that the club’s bringing in, Miyra. Alfie Harris must be making a fortune.’ Gem shook his head in wonderment. ‘And look at us. Living here like this.’
Miyra knew not to comment. Her husband did this sometimes. Vented about their misfortunes. Ranted for a while. Of course Miyra could believe it. That’s the way it had always been. They were immigrants, and immigrants in London were treated like shit. Like nothing. But it was starting to really bring Gem down.
That’s why people employed illegal immigrants in the first place. They didn’t need to concern themselves with health and safety, or human rights, they could treat their workers how they wished. Make them work every hour of the day for a pittance and no one would dare to complain about the conditions in which they were forced to work. Not if they wanted to stay living in this country undetected.
‘It’s soul-destroying how hard I work, and how little appreciation I get for my efforts. I’m one of the most hard-working men at that club. Alfie Harris knows my worth; he knows that when I work the door he barely gets any trouble. Who wants to mess with a six foot two, crazy-looking Turk?’ Gem spat, trying to make a joke of it all, as he let his words trail off, catching the flash of concern sweeping across his wife’s face.
He could feel the anger building inside of him. So unjust, so unfair was his treatment, it was taking all he had to try and contain it. The last thing Miyra needed was more to worry about.
‘I’m sorry!’ he said. ‘Ignore me. I’m in a bad mood.’
She had a lot on her plate, too.
‘I shouldn’t complain. At least I have a job, huh!’ Though even Gem didn’t believe the fake optimism in his words. Without a work permit, he had to take whatever he could get.
London was so corrupt. Since he’d arrived here just a few years ago, Gem had seen and heard things that had shocked him to his core. The place was overrun with criminals and there was deception and deceit going on at every darkened corner. Everyone seemed to be on the earn. He’d seen it himself first-hand at the clubs he’d been working at. The drugs, the girls, all sorts of deceit and villainy going on.
Though the only people making any real money from it all were the main players. This latest club he’d been working at the past three months was making an absolute fortune. Well, Alfie Harris, the owner was, and a few of the main dealers there too.
Gem was lucky to make minimum wage, and it galled him because he was the one working on the front line, working as part of the club’s security team. He dealt with both the punters and the dealers first-hand, yet got little for his efforts. Alfie Harris was a shrewd man, Gem knew that. Which is probably why the bloke was so rich.
Changing the subject now, annoyed that he seemed to be working every hour, yet getting nowhere, Gem looked at his wife. ‘How have the children been?’ Staring over at his children that Miyra had placed inside the playpen in a bid to try and contain them from climbing all around the room. The sound of them both snivelling and crying tearing through his brain.
‘They had a bad night. Emin’s got a temperature. He kept us both up all night. Hopefully he’ll be better today; though I think Azra might have caught it now. She hasn’t stopped crying all morning.’
The Broken_A gripping thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat Page 5