Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Butler Collection

by Kimberley Chambers

  She’d followed them for some distance before one of the boys paused and looked around him in a furtive manner. Quickly ducking out of sight behind a parked van, Hilda couldn’t resist a triumphant little chuckle. ‘You’re definitely up to no good and I will catch you out! That’ll teach that deceitful nan of yours to lie to me. Michael’s cleaner, my arse.’

  Burak Zane dragged his cousin straight into the office. Ahmed had rung him yesterday, said he had some earth-shattering news, then refused to reveal what it was – as per usual.

  ‘Ask the chef to rustle me up some food, Burak. What’s the dish of the day?’

  ‘Sod the dish of the day. I want to know what’s happened. I’ve been racking my brains and it has to be something Little Vinny said. Am I right?’

  Ahmed grinned as he handed Burak the cassette. The original recording was now locked away in his secret safe at home and only he knew the combination to that.

  Burak pressed the play button. The quality wasn’t great, but he recognized Little Vinny’s voice immediately.

  ‘Turn it up. You’ll hear something very interesting in a minute,’ Ahmed chuckled.

  Burak did as Ahmed asked, then gasped as he clearly heard his cousin ask Little Vinny why he’d killed his own sister. ‘What the hell!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Shush. Or you’ll miss the best bit.’

  When Burak heard Little Vinny say he’d murdered Molly through jealously, because his dad had loved her more, he stood open-mouthed. He was shocked to the core, could barely believe what he was hearing.

  ‘Pause it and pour a drink. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Ahmed laughed.

  ‘I cannot fucking believe it. I know we’ve done some bad things in our time, but nothing tops this. Didn’t he write some heartfelt speech and read it out at Molly’s funeral?’

  ‘Yes. All about how much he loved and missed Molly. Must be a psychopath.’

  ‘Shows you how shit the Old Bill are! They obviously didn’t want the East End to be in a panic, thinking there was a child-killer on the loose, so they arrested the wrong boy. You don’t think Little Vinny was lying, do you?’

  ‘Most definitely not. Ben Bloggs helped him abduct Molly. That’s why Ben hung himself. No wonder Little Vinny is so fucked up and can’t handle his girlfriend being pregnant. It all makes perfect sense now. Can you imagine what our policeman friend Christopher Walker would make of this story, eh?’

  ‘Don’t be involving him again, Ahmed. Policemen cannot be trusted – as Jamie Preston being locked up for murder proves. We must deal with this ourselves.’

  Ahmed smirked. ‘If you ask me, we should enlighten Vinny sooner rather than later. He might have got through prison better than expected, but no way will he be able to handle the knowledge that his own son killed poor little Molly. What father could?’

  Burak shuddered. Unlike Ahmed he wasn’t married, but he did have an eight-year-old son from a casual affair, and he saw the child on a regular basis.

  ‘Come on,’ Ahmed urged, ‘Think how entertaining it will be to see him go to pieces. There’s no way he will allow his son to go on living once he finds out, and then—’

  ‘No, cousin, it is far too dangerous for us to play any more mind games with the Butlers. Let’s just lure Vinny and his son somewhere under false pretences, play the tape, then finish them both off. They are vermin.’

  Sunday was Bella’s favourite day of the week. She’d recently started up her own modelling agency in London’s West End, so from Monday to Friday she had to work long hours, and Saturday was often spent catching up on paperwork. Sunday was the one day of the week that she could dedicate entirely to her beloved son.

  ‘Mummy, can I have some waffles, please?’ Antonio asked, his eyes glued to the television. His current obsession was Spiderman.

  Bella planted many kisses on her son’s face before heading into the kitchen. Antonio was such a loving, polite, intelligent, good-natured child. Truly a gift from God.

  ‘Mummy, the phone’s ringing again. Shall I answer it?’ Antonio shouted.

  ‘No. Let it go to answerphone, darling.’

  Bella smiled as she heard Michael’s voice leave another message. She’d been an easy catch the first time round, and that had brought her nothing but heartache. This time she was determined to play things very differently.

  Vinny Butler eyed the new décor with a look of contempt on his face. Gone was all the classy leather furniture. The club just resembled a big open space now, with bench-style seating and shelving fitted around the walls. The worst feature of all was the wall facing the entrance. ‘Butler’s Disco’ had been painted on it, along with stupid images of dancing people either side of the name.

  ‘Glows of a night, that. Looks good, don’t it? Michael employed some bloke to come in and paint it. Professional graffiti artist. Clever man, eh?’

  Vinny treated Pete to a look of pure disdain. ‘Michael wants to ask for a fucking refund. I’ve seen better graffiti on bus shelters round by the market. Looks cheap and nasty.’

  ‘Looks different in the dark, Vin. Especially with the new strobe lighting Michael’s just invested in. Amazing, that is.’

  ‘The only thing amazing about this shithole is the fact I own it. Where is Billy Big Bollocks? Lording it up in the office?’

  Pete nodded. He hated it when Vinny and Michael were at each other’s throats. It made him feel awkward, and both he and Paul were dreading Michael’s reaction when he found out they were leaving to work for Vinny.

  Vinny entered the office without knocking first. ‘Well, this is cosy. Room for another one?’

  Albie, who had his back to the door, spilt half of his mug of tea over his trousers.

  ‘Steady on there, Dad. Anyone would think you weren’t pleased to see me,’ Vinny chuckled.

  ‘How are you, Vinny? You’re looking well,’ Albie mumbled.

  ‘Yeah, I’m good thanks, Dad. I never received any of your letters while I was in nick. Must’ve got lost in the post, eh?’

  ‘If you’ve got a fucking bone to pick, pick it with me, Vin,’ growled Michael. He nodded to his father: ‘Go and pour yourself a drink, Dad. I’ll be out in a bit.’

  ‘So what’s it gonna be? We gonna try and have a sensible chat? Or you gonna go stomping off like a child again?’ Vinny smirked.

  ‘I didn’t stomp off like a child. I left the restaurant because it was the only way I could keep myself from decking you.’

  ‘And when exactly did you become the big tough guy, Michael? That’ll be the day when you deck me, let me tell you.’

  ‘I’m busy. What is it you want, Vin?’

  ‘You heard from Little Vinny?’

  ‘No. He’s hardly bothered contacting me since he stopped working ’ere. Surely your mucker Ahmed knows where he is?’

  ‘Ahmed said that, as far as he knows, Little Vinny’s at home. But I’ve been ringing his number and can’t get no reply. Ahmed’s meeting me here in a bit. We’re gonna take a drive down to the address. Some son he’s turned out to be.’

  ‘Perhaps he feels the same way about you as you do our dad?’

  ‘Very funny, Michael.’ He applauded mirthlessly. ‘With that great humour of yours, you should be on stage doing a stand-up routine. You’d bring the house down with lines like that. And just in case you’re suffering from some kind of memory loss, our father was a drunken, potless bum when we were growing up. Me and Roy had to go out thieving to help Mum put food on the table and pay her rent and bills. Whereas Little Vinny has never wanted for anything in his lifetime, the spoilt, ungrateful fucker.’

  Michael poured himself a Scotch. ‘Want one?’

  ‘No, thanks. Thought any more about my offer?’

  ‘Yeah, and I still think you’re taking the piss. Have you thought any more about that promise you made in prison? A fifty-fifty share for me as soon as you got out.’

  ‘Yes, but that was before you moved the goal posts, Michael.’

  ‘How have I moved a
ny goal posts? A deal’s a fucking deal.’

  ‘And I would’ve kept to my side of the bargain, had you not expected me to give you a property the size of this for nothing. What do you think I am? Some cunt still wet behind the ears?’

  ‘How about if you keep a small stake in the business instead? Ten per cent is more than fair,’ Michael insisted.

  ‘Ten per cent! You’ve having a laugh, ain’t ya! You got any idea what this property is worth?’

  Michael knocked back his drink. He had plenty of dosh in the bank, but what if he and Bella wanted to make a proper go of it? Nancy had been on his earhole lately about moving the boys to a nicer area and, if his circumstances were to change, not only would he have to provide for Nancy and the boys, Bella would expect to live in luxury as well.

  Vinny stood up. ‘Right, you’re boring me now, Michael. Get back to me when you’ve made your decision. Oh, and Jay Boy won’t be working tomorrow. He’s coming out on the lash with me.’

  ‘I need Jay ’ere, Vin. We’ve sold all the tickets.’

  Vinny grinned as he turned his back on his brother. Jay Boy, Pete and Paul had been ordered to keep their traps shut, so he would save the news of their imminent resignation to ruin Michael’s Christmas.

  After hanging about in the freezing cold outside the Wimpy while the Bakers stuffed their faces, Daniel Butler felt the time was right to strike. He hid until the Bakers turned into a side street, glanced around to make sure the coast was clear, then took the knife out of his pocket. ‘Come on. Let’s do ’em.’

  Hearing footsteps running behind them, Kurt and Brad were quickly on their guard. ‘What do you little mugs want?’ Kurt Baker taunted.

  ‘We ain’t scared of you little pricks,’ Brad Baker added.

  Daniel Butler was very astute for a twelve year old. He’d leared a lot from his father, incuding mimicking his tone and certain words he used when he was angry. ‘Well, you should be scared, you dopey cunts,’ Daniel hissed, brandishing a knife.

  Kurt Baker was fourteen, older and wiser than Daniel. ‘Put that away and go home, you div. You’ll get us all nicked otherwise.’

  ‘Who you calling a div?’ Daniel spat, lunging towards both boys and making prodding motions like he was some fencing expert. Realising Daniel wasn’t right in the head, Kurt urged his brother to run.

  ‘Get ’em, Lee. Chase ’em, Adam,’ Daniel ordered.

  Frozen to the spot, Adam Butler put his hand on his crotch and promptly wet himself through fear. His mum had always warned him of situations such as this. She’d said he’d end up in the bad boy’s home like his friend Denny Crookes had. Daniel Butler laughed like a hyena as Brad Baker slipped. He leapt on top of him and plunged the knife straight into the skin. Blood seeped through Brad’s clothing and trickled onto the pavement.

  Wishing for once she didn’t have such an inquisitive nature, Nosy Hilda shook like a leaf as she crouched behind the Ford Cortina. She’d always known the Butlers had a violent reputation, but what she’d just witnessed had shocked her to the core. Daniel had only celebrated his twelfth birthday recently. What hope was there for him in life?

  Vinny Butler hadn’t had a chance to purchase himself a new car yet, so Ahmed had kindly offered to drive him to Harold Wood to see his son.

  ‘I hope we don’t have a wasted journey. The little shit better be in. He ain’t even been in touch with my mum recently. She hasn’t a clue whether he’s coming to Christmas dinner or not. How’s he been getting on working with you? You had any problems with him?’

  ‘No. Little Vinny is reliable and does his job well. Not sure he’s ready to be a dad yet though.’

  ‘Tough shit. He should’ve thought of that before humping without protection.’

  Ahmed grinned. ‘You should come and see the bar tomorrow. I am holding a party there for staff and friends. I’m sure you’d enjoy letting your hair down.’

  Vinny had been hurt and annoyed when Ahmed had bought his bar without inviting him to participate, therefore had no wish to see it. Investing in such a property had been his idea in the first place, and Vinny couldn’t understand why his pal hadn’t waited until he came out of nick so they could be business partners. ‘Nah, you’re OK. I’ve already made plans for tomorrow.’

  ‘What you up to?’

  ‘Going out with Jay Boy. Eddie Mitchell’s popping down the Beggar for a beer with us at lunchtime. Should be a good ’un. Not been pissed since I got out,’ Vinny chuckled.

  ‘Did you keep in contact with Mitchell while you were inside?’

  ‘No. He left a message at the club and I rung him back last night. Salt of the earth, he is,’ Vinny said, knowing full well Ahmed was wary of his budding friendship with Eddie, son of the legendary Harry Mitchell. Like the Butlers, the Mitchell family had built up a fearsome reputation in the East End. They’d started out in Canning Town with a pub protection racket, but rumour had it they’d now gone into the old loan-sharking game as well. In the past the Mitchells and the Butlers had always been careful to steer clear of each other’s turf, but after Molly’s murder Eddie had offered his help in finding the culprit. It was a gesture that had meant a lot to Vinny.

  ‘We’re nearly there now. I think I should wait in the car. You need to spend father-and-son time alone,’ Ahmed suggested.

  ‘Michael tells me the kid’s back on the booze.’

  ‘Not at work, he isn’t. I don’t allow any of my staff to drink during their shifts. That’s his house there,’ Ahmed pointed out.

  Vinny stared at the property. The area was nice and the house looked decent. ‘Bollocks. His car ain’t on the drive.’

  What Vinny did not know as he stood pummelling his fist against the door was that Ahmed had warned his son of their impending visit.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Shell Baker led her sons down the corridor. Kurt had been kept in overnight as a precaution, but thankfully his injury wasn’t too serious. The doctor said he was lucky because the wound was only an inch deep and had missed the major blood vessels.

  ‘I need yous two to do something for me,’ Shell said.

  ‘What?’ Kurt replied.

  ‘The police are coming round to ours in a bit. You’re not to tell them the truth. I want you to say you got into a row with three boys you’d never seen before. Think up some descriptions between yourselves now.’

  ‘But we told you who done it, Mum. Why can’t we just tell Old Bill the truth? Daniel Butler is a lunatic, and next time he might kill someone,’ Brad warned.

  ‘Brad’s right, Mum. Why should we risk getting in trouble for lying to the Old Bill when we ain’t done sod-all wrong?’

  ‘Because I bloody-well said so. They’re a vile family, those Butlers, and I don’t want any more grief with them. You remember when your Uncle Karl got beaten up that time?’

  Kurt and Brad nodded.

  ‘Well, Daniel Butler’s father did that – just because we played loud music. Can you imagine what he’ll do to Karl if you grass his son up?’

  Kurt and Brad glanced at one another. Both thought the world of their uncle, and would be devastated if anything bad were to happen to him. ‘OK, Mum. We’ll lie,’ Kurt said.

  Little Vinny was in the Pompadours pub in Harold Hill. Getting off his face certainly wasn’t the answer to his problems, but it beat sitting indoors waiting for his father to knock again. He’d got so paranoid last night when he’d heard a car engine running, he’d hidden in the bottom of the wardrobe for ten minutes.

  Kicking the leg of the table in frustration, Little Vinny rested his chin on his hands. How could he have been so stupid as to tell Ahmed about Molly? His boss had sounded fine in the few answerphone messages he’d left, but no way could Little Vinny look him in the eye just yet. That’s why he’d skipped the work do today. He was still in shock after learning that his dad had killed his mum as well. Something else to mess with his head, that was.

  ‘All right, Vin. I got your stuff. Give it a couple of minutes, then fol
low me outside. I’m in the blue Cabriolet.’

  Little Vinny nodded. He’d only met the local drug dealer for the first time yesterday and had ordered half an ounce to see him OK over Christmas. The gear was probably cack compared to the purity of the stuff he was used to, but anything was better than facing Ahmed right now. He was too eaten up with self-pity and worry to face anybody he knew.

  Queenie Butler had her hand up a turkey’s arse when Michael let himself in. She liked her boys to have their own keys and come and go as they pleased. It made her feel as though they’d never really left home.

  ‘I just saw Auntie Viv down the market, Mum. She looked a bit glum.’

  ‘We haven’t long been back from our grave-visiting duties. Viv finds this time of year very difficult, Michael. Cried like a baby at the cemetery and I had to drag her away. I think she’s got the hump because Vinny’s gonna be here for Christmas an’ all.’

  ‘Tomorrow is what I’ve come to see you about, Mum. Sorry to let you down, but I’m gonna have to give it a miss.’

  Queenie was annoyed. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re not coming because of your brother. I’ll bang your bleedin’ heads together before long if you don’t make this silly argument up.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with Vinny. Dad’s gonna be on his own, and he gets very down this time of year an’ all since Dorothy passed away.’

  Screwing her nose up at the mention of the woman her ex-husband had found true love with until she’d popped her clogs, Queenie turned on her son. ‘I can’t believe you’re putting that old bastard before me, Michael. I’m your mother, the one who spent hours giving birth to you. I’m also the one that worked her fingers to the bone cleaning them posh arseholes’ houses when you were young and while your father was out drinking and whoring.’

  ‘I know you’re upset, Mum, but you’re still gonna have plenty of company, unlike Dad. He ain’t looking too well lately. His breathing is bad and for all I know this could well be his last Christmas. No way am I letting him spend it alone.’