Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Butler Collection

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘I’ll speak to the media and get back to you. Are you going to be here? Or at home?’

  ‘Well, my brother and I were planning to head out with some pals and search for Molly ourselves.’

  ‘There really is no point in you searching. My officers have everything under control. It’s better you’re here if we need you.’

  ‘OK. I’ll wait here then. Oh, and did you check out where Jo’s father was when Molly disappeared? I know Jo said she was at his wedding, but I wouldn’t trust Johnny Preston as far as I could throw him. If anybody holds a grudge against me, it’s that bastard.’

  ‘My officers have already spoken to Mr Preston and he has a watertight alibi. At the time Molly went missing, he was at his reception with sixty-odd guests. There aren’t many fathers who would put their daughter through the misery Joanna is currently experiencing, Vinny, so I reckon you’re barking up the wrong tree there.’ He got to his feet and picked up his raincoat. ‘Right, I’ll get that TV appeal in motion and have a word with the press too while I’m at it. Molly’s photo in the local and national newspapers might help jog people’s memories. Oh, and while I am gone, try to jog your own memory. Any information you can remember might prove to be vital.’

  Staring at the DI’s back as he sauntered off, Vinny clenched his fist. ‘Sarcastic old cunt,’ he mumbled.

  Mary Walker got off the train at Whitechapel and walked as fast as she could towards Joanna’s house. Nancy had rung her yesterday evening to ask her to keep the boys overnight and take them to school again today, but Mary had no idea that Molly was missing until Nancy had rung up again this morning and explained the terrible situation.

  Donald had not been at all happy about her leaving him short-staffed at the café. He had pleaded with her not to go to Vinny’s house, but Mary could tell how upset Nancy was and after spending a week down at Eastbourne with Joanna, she’d grown very fond of the girl. As for young Molly, it sickened Mary to the stomach to think what might have happened to the poor little mite. Molly might be a Butler by name, but she was nothing like the majority of that family by nature. She was one of the sweetest little girls that Mary had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

  Having never been to Joanna’s house before, Mary took the piece of paper with the address Nancy had given her out of her handbag and looked around her. It was almost knocked from her hand by a skinhead barging past. ‘Have you never heard of the word sorry?’ Mary protested as he strode off.

  ‘Shut up, you old witch,’ the boy spat.

  Wondering what had happened to her beloved England, Mary hung back to avoid any further contact with him. She hated that skinhead look, found it intimidating, and even though this lad did not have great big bovver boots on, as her and Donald like to call them, he looked a thoroughly nasty piece of work.

  As Mary clocked the house numbers, she spotted two policemen knocking on people’s front doors and guessed it was to do with young Molly’s disappearance. She had seen loads of police officers wandering the streets since she had stepped off the train at Whitechapel.

  As she drew level with number twenty-five, Mary was horrified to hear shouting and screaming coming from inside. Worried about her daughter, she banged on the door. ‘Nancy, it’s me. Are you OK?’ she shouted.

  When Nancy opened the front door, Mary was shocked to see the skinhead boy who had called her a witch standing in the hallway.

  ‘Get him out of here! Get him out! My Molly wouldn’t be missing if it wasn’t for him,’ Joanna screamed, trying to push the boy out of the house.

  ‘Whatever’s going on, love?’ Mary asked Nancy.

  ‘It’s a long story, Mum. I’ll explain later.’

  ‘My daughter is right. This is your fault – and your father’s, for allowing you to look after Molly in the first place. Now, please just leave. We don’t want you here and you’re upsetting Jo,’ said a woman with dark hair who Mary had never seen before.

  When the skinhead slumped down the wall and started to cry, Mary found herself feeling sorry for him even though he had insulted her not ten minutes ago. Judging by what had been said, this must be Vinny’s son. Even though Donald was forever telling her off in the café for getting involved in situations she had no need to, she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t in her nature to stand by and see a youngster so upset, no matter who they were or what they’d done.

  ‘Jo, I love Molly so much. She’s my little sister and I am so sorry for falling asleep. If anything bad has happened to her, I will never forgive myself,’ Little Vinny gasped between sobs.

  ‘Your dad is stopping at the club, Vinny. Go and see him,’ Nancy said coldly.

  When the distraught teenager dashed past her, Mary was about to chase after him to ensure he was OK until Nancy grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear. ‘Leave it, Mum. He’s just like his father. The apple never falls far from the tree and in Little Vinny’s case it fell closer than most.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Fiona Mason was worried when the police knocked on the front door and asked to speak with her brother. ‘Scotty’s not here at the moment. Can I help you at all? I’m his sister.’

  ‘Would you by any chance know of your brother’s whereabouts yesterday afternoon?’

  ‘Yes. Scott was here with me. As you can see, we’ve been decorating,’ Fiona replied, pointing to the dust sheets, tins of paint and wallpaper.

  ‘Did your brother pop out at all?’

  ‘Yes, at teatime, to get us some fish and chips. He was only gone about fifteen minutes though. Why? What’s he meant to have done?’

  ‘Nothing. We’re investigating the disappearance of a little girl, and just needed to rule your brother out of our enquiries.’

  ‘Why ever would you think Scott would be involved with the disappearance of a child? He loves kids.’

  ‘I’m sure he does, miss … Can I take your full name, please?’

  ‘Fiona Jane Mason.’ She watched as the officer wrote her name in his notebook, then asked, ‘So will you still need to speak to Scott? I have no idea what time he’ll be home.’

  ‘The information you have given us should be sufficient. If it turns out that we do need to speak to Scott in person, we’ll call back later.’

  Fiona waited until the police had driven off before shouting out to Scott that it was safe to come out. Her brother had hidden in her wardrobe when he saw the police car pull up, begging her to tell them he was out and give an alibi if needed. ‘What the hell have you done, Scott? Where was you all day yesterday?’ Fiona screamed.

  ‘I already told you, I had a bit of business to attend to. What did the Old Bill say?’

  ‘And would your business dealings have anything to do with kidnapping a little girl?’

  ‘What? Don’t talk wet! ’Course it had nothing to do with that.’

  ‘Well, that’s what the police were asking about. Wanted to know where you were yesterday afternoon because some kid’s gone missing.’

  ‘Jesus, Fi. I might be a bit of a wideboy, but I’m no bloody nonce. What did you tell ’em?’

  ‘I said you was here with me and we were decorating. I told them the only time you went out was to get some fish and chips at teatime.’

  ‘What did you say that for? Say they go round the chippy and start asking the staff if they served me?’

  Fiona was furious. The least Scott could do was show some gratitude after she’d put her neck on the line for him yet again. ‘Well, I had to make it look genuine, didn’t I? I did have fish and chips last night and the wrappers are in the bin, had the police asked for evidence. If you’ve not done anything wrong, why are you so bloody worried, eh? I swear to you, Scott, if you have had anything to do with that kid going missing, me and you are finished – for good.’

  Queenie Butler had been ranting all morning about what a traitor Joanna Preston had turned out to be, but when she started going on about her poor Vinny, Vivian finally snapped.

  ‘It isn’t Jo’s fault that Moll
y is missing, Queen. She left the girl with her father, not a fourteen-year-old babysitter. If anyone is to blame for that child’s disappearance, it’s your precious golden boy. We all know that Little Vinny isn’t capable of looking after a fucking goldfish. As for slating the girl for going to her own parents’ wedding, what did you expect? It’s her mother and father – and as you’re always sayin’, blood’s thicker than water.’

  Stunned by her sister’s outburst, Queenie stood up. ‘The day my Roy was paralysed was the day his life ended, so excuse me if I’m not happy about that scheming little cow seeing her father behind all of our backs! We welcomed her into this family and treated her like one of our own. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of sitting here twiddling my thumbs. I’m going to the club to find out what the hell is happening. Surely the police must have some leads by now? They told me sod all when I rang them earlier.’

  ‘I’m not going to the club. I’ll stay here and wait for news. Oh, and Queen, before you start sucking up to that deceitful son of yours, please never forget that it was he who killed my boy.’

  After a heavy night on the tiles, Bobby Jackson was still in bed when he heard someone pounding on his front door. His wife had left him the last time he got sent down, so there was no option but to haul himself out of bed and find out what they wanted. ‘All right, all right, I’m coming,’ he yelled, stumbling downstairs in just his Y-fronts and a T-shirt.

  Yanking open the front door, a bleary-eyed Bobby was rather taken aback to see the Old Bill on his doorstep. Before he had a chance to ask what was going on, an officer handcuffed him and read him his rights.

  Ahmed Zane had thoroughly enjoyed lunch with his cousin. The juicy T-bone steak was delicious and Burak had had him in fits of laughter with his warped one-liners, but now it was time to make a move.

  ‘Right, I must be off. I have arranged to meet Christopher at two, then I shall head back to the club and put on my concerned best friend face. My performance so far has been so convincing, I think I deserve an Academy Award,’ Ahmed chuckled.

  ‘And what are you going to say to Christopher when he starts interrogating you about Molly? He is bound to suspect that we have taken her.’

  Ahmed chuckled. ‘He can suspect what he likes. There is no proof to link us to Molly going missing, is there? And we have the perfect alibi. Besides, I very much doubt Christopher will be accusing us of such a crime. How would he explain his suspicions to his superiors?’

  ‘OK. But I still have a bad feeling about Carl Thompson, Ahmed. I think you should give him some more money. If Carl was as pissed off as you said – and he must have been to slam the phone down on you – then we need to get him back on side.’

  Ahmed shrugged. ‘Carl knew the score when I set this deal up. I have already paid him a substantial amount up front and I am not parting with any more of my hard-earned cash until the job is finished. If Carl starts to get too cocky, then we shall just have to make him disappear. After all, that is what we specialize in, isn’t it?’

  Burak roared with laughter. ‘You know it, cousin, you know it!’

  Queenie Butler listened carefully while her son explained that he and Jo were to record a TV appeal which would be shown on the news that evening. ‘I dunno how I’m going to get through this, Mum, but I have to do it for Molly’s sake. The Old Bill reckon it’s the best way of getting people to come forward with information. They’ve got hold of a replica of Molly’s doll and that will be shown during the press conference as well.’

  ‘So, have they got any leads? With her curly blonde hair and big green eyes, Molly’s the sort of kid who gets noticed. Some bastard must have seen her. I mean, who wouldn’t take a second glance at a pretty little three-year-old toddling down the road without no adult present?’

  ‘That DI said they’re following up a couple of leads, but he wouldn’t tell me any more than that. They keep their cards so close to their chest these days, the secretive bastards. I rang George Geary earlier, but he wasn’t at home. I left a message with his old woman to ring me back. If anyone can find out any inside info, then he can. Especially if I promise him a big wad of cash. The DI seems to think Molly has been snatched by someone out to get revenge on me. I was asked loads of questions and had to admit I’d had a few run-ins with people down at Kings. I told them about the affray charge, but I can’t see Brenda’s ex geezer, that bouncer, or them young lads from South London snatching Molly, can you?’

  ‘No, I can’t. What about your Turkish friend though? You suppose he might be involved? If anybody has an axe to grind with you, it’s him.’

  Vinny shook his head. ‘Ahmed’s been brilliant since Molly went missing. He would never harm her – he’s a dad himself. What type of company do you think I keep?’

  ‘Dodgy, that’s what! Vin, open your eyes, boy. You left that man for dead and then let him take the rap for a crime he didn’t commit. Wouldn’t you hold a grudge if the boot was on the other foot? I have never trusted that bloke from day one. He’s a slimy bastard, and there’s something about them cold dark eyes of his that gives me the creeps. I don’t think you should rule him out. If you ask me, he forgave you far too easily for what you did. Viv’s not going to be quite so forgiving, let me tell ya.’

  Not needing or wanting to get involved in another conversation about Lenny, Vinny was relieved when his brother interrupted. ‘Little Vinny is sat outside the club crying his eyes out, bruv. He’s frightened to come in. Says Jo chucked him out the house and he thinks everybody hates him.’

  ‘And so he should,’ Queenie spat. Little Vinny might be her first-born grandchild, but she could honestly say he was her least favourite right now. He had been nothing but trouble for years, and Queenie reckoned it was all down to him being too spoilt as a child. He looked awful with that skinhead haircut, and even if, please God, Molly came home safe, she didn’t think she would ever forgive him for falling asleep while he was supposed to be looking after his little sister.

  Vinny walked outside the club and immediately spotted his son slumped with his head in his hands in the doorway opposite. It was the same doorway where Christopher Walker had been standing when he’d witnessed the murder of Dave Phillips.

  ‘No point feeling sorry for yourself, boy. I left you in charge of your little sister and you fucked up. So, what did Jo say to you?’

  ‘She chased me out the house and told me not to come back. Dad, I am so sorry. I love Molly and I feel so guilty. I couldn’t sleep ’cos of that slag Shazza, which is why I was so tired at work. Please forgive me. I feel so alone. I wish my mum was still alive. She would understand.’

  Alerted by the fact that Little Vinny had not mentioned Karen in years, Vinny crouched down and tilted his son’s chin towards him. ‘You been puffing or something? Your eyes look glassy.’

  ‘No, I swear I haven’t touched any puff,’ Little Vinny replied honestly. He had however sniffed some glue and downed a bottle of Woodpecker. Realizing he’d have to cop to something, he owned up to the cider.

  Vinny shook his head. Perhaps this was all his fault. Would Little Vinny have turned out more of a credit to him had he not had his mother bumped off? ‘The state of you, boy. You look and smell like shit, and your clothes are filthy. In fact, lookin’ at you, Oliver fucking Twist springs to mind.’

  ‘I had to sleep rough last night. I had nowhere else to go. I was so scared, Dad. It was horrible, and I couldn’t stop thinking of Molly.’

  Grabbing his son by the arm, Vinny marched him towards the entrance of the club. It chilled him to think of his son out on the streets when someone seemed to be out to get him. ‘Right, your nan is inside, so I want you to go straight upstairs, have a bath and get some kip. You do not come down those stairs until I tell you to, else you’ll be out on your earhole. Now, do we understand one another?’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’

  Christopher Walker was wrestling with a torrent of emotions as he drove to meet Ahmed. Molly Butler’s disappearance was the talk of
the station and Chris knew it was his duty as a policeman to tell his boss that he had a good idea who was responsible for her abduction. But how could he? He was in far too deep and would most certainly lose his job if he owned up.

  When the Radio One DJ played Kelly Marie’s ‘Feels Like I’m in Love’ Christopher turned the radio off. That was Olivia’s current favourite song and a reminder that, not only was he in danger of losing his career, he would most certainly lose her too if the shit hit the fan.

  Feeling sick as a dog, he cursed his naivety. With hindsight, it was obvious that he should have told his boss the truth about his past the moment Ahmed made contact. Surely his superiors would have understood that he’d had no option but to lie at Vinny’s identification parade? He’d only been a nipper at the time and Vinny had threatened to harm his family.

  Punching the steering wheel in pure frustration, Christopher silently blamed his sister for the predicament he found himself in. If it weren’t for Nancy being married to Michael Butler, he would have found it much easier to come clean to his boss when Ahmed had first got in touch. How could he though, when he was classed as a relation to that scumbag family?

  As he spotted Ahmed’s car, Christopher took a series of deep breaths and pulled up alongside. He was as anxious as hell, but no way was he going to show it. Calling his tormentor’s bluff was the only way he could play this now. It truly was shit or bust.

  Mr Arthur, the old war veteran, was enjoying a mug of tea, a digestive biscuit and the latest episode of The Sullivans when one of the policemen who had been assigned to do house-to-house enquiries knocked on his door. ‘How can I help you, officer?’

  When the policeman showed him a photograph of Molly and explained where she had gone missing from and roughly what time, Mr Arthur felt a chill run down his spine. ‘I saw a teenager acting oddly and it would have been about the time that poor child went missing. He was sat staring at the club, drinking cider, and he started muttering abuse at me when I looked at him. I knew he was trouble the moment I set eyes on him.’