The Jade Garden (The Barrington Patch Book 2)

by Emmy Ellis

  Ah, she was only phoning Joe. Jason relaxed. For some reason, he’d got it into his head that she’d called Lenny’s old right hand, Glen Maddock, who’d gone into retirement once Cassie had taken his role when Lenny went downhill. Jason had imagined her asking him for advice, a pep talk, a reminder as to what Lenny would do in this situation.

  I don’t want him coming back, stepping on my toes, taking my place.

  Glen was a right hard bastard and no mistake. He was still fit enough to take over Jason’s role if Cassie decided they weren’t a good fit, sending Jason on his angry way with a flea and its family in his ear. He wouldn’t put it past her and had thought about this happening if their relationship outside of the job ever took off. She might want him separate from her day-to-day life, preferring him out of her hair until the evenings when they got together for dates.

  He’d have to put that notion firmly to bed if she brought it up.

  She got in beside him, her phone screen still alight. “Come on. We need to be quick. Joe’s already been out to the pigs with Ted and Felix, don’t forget, and I just got him out of bed.”

  Jason bristled. “It’s what he does, what he’s chosen to do even though Lenny’s dead.”

  Joe had agreed to take the mince as a form of paying Lenny back when Jess had been snatched and her killer had been dealt with—except he hadn’t. Lenny had got the wrong bloke, hadn’t he—not such a top-notch fella after all—and Jason felt all kinds of down about that because Lenny had been a hero to him when he’d been young, someone he’d looked up to, a man who could do no wrong. To find out he’d fucked up by killing The Mechanic…

  With Lenny dead, Joe’s debt was paid, but his wife, Lou, wanted the mince to keep coming. Something about her getting satisfaction from it, pretending it was Jess’ real killer being fed to their animals again and again. Vance Johnson was the real killer, some paedo who’d travelled the country abducting kids and offing them. He’d lived on the Barrington when younger, then fucked off, scared Lenny would find him, returning a while after his mam, Wanda, had died. Then Brenda had come along to fleece him of his inheritance, and the truth had come out.

  It had a habit of doing that, and Jason needed to be careful the truth of the Jade shit didn’t reveal itself. He couldn’t hack being killed, leaving Mam all by herself.

  ‘Then you should have thought it through better, you little prick,’ his father’s voice said, the words flowing through Jason’s mind, swirling around and around as if heading towards the plughole.

  God, he hated being called a prick, it set him off every time. That was why he’d killed Richie Prince, nowt to do with him selling drugs on Lenny’s patch. Angry at just thinking of the word, he gunned the engine and shot off, turning to speed down the road the same as he’d done when he’d been here earlier.

  “Fucking hold your horses,” Cassie snapped. “We’re not out to win a sodding race.”

  He eased his foot off the accelerator and tried to dampen his temper, put the flames out. “I want tonight over with, that’s all. I’m tired.”

  “You and me both, but we keep going until everything’s done. There’s the pigs to feed, then back to the factory to clean the box, then I was thinking of calling round to the laundrette, knocking the manager up, not to mention me burning the clothes and the towels in the furnace at the squat.”

  Jason glanced at the clock. It was well late, and Jack Daniel’s called his name, a siren’s song, luring him with the need for the burn of alcohol. He sighed. It was no good saying he wouldn’t help. She’d use that as an excuse to rip him a new one. “Right.”

  He drove towards Handel Farm, thinking of what he could say to steer her away from the Jade business, although that would be difficult, seeing as that was why they were out at shitty o’clock. Coming up empty, he made the firm decision to go with his other plan. Rob it himself. That cemented in his mind, he smiled across at her. “Shall we try that date tomorrow night then?”

  “Might do. It’ll give me a chance to show my new hair off.”

  “What new hair?”

  “I’m fed up of it being straight. I’m getting a wave put in. And anyroad, the hairdresser I’m using works in the salon on the other side of The Donny. I want to see if anyone worked late tonight and saw people hanging around.”

  She really wasn’t going to let it go, was she.

  For Pete’s sake. “Sounds like a plan.” But one of the kids I used to tell people to leave the street is the salon owner’s son. What if she talks about Cassie going there when she gets home tomorrow and the boy hears? He might tell her his part in it.

  Jason didn’t think he could kill a lad, so he’d have to be content he’d been in disguise when he’d approached them at the park. The kid hadn’t realised it was him, so he wouldn’t have owt incriminating to say if Cassie questioned him.

  He turned off the road onto a track. The farmhouse stood in complete blackness apart from a light on beneath the porch overhang above the front door. As usual, he drove around the back, and the kitchen light spilt out onto the grass. Joe stood at the door in wellies and a thick padded coat, Lou beside him, bundled up in a dressing gown, a tartan throw blanket over her shoulders.

  “What’s she doing up?” Jason hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Cassie dragged her palms down her face. “She likes to watch the pigs eating nowadays.”

  “Each to their own.”

  Privately, he thought Lou was a fucking weirdo, moping around the way she did. Jess had been killed twenty-three years ago, so surely the silly cow should be over it by now, but no, there she was, face like a slapped arse, her body so skinny it was a wonder she managed to stay upright.

  Jason parked, about to cut the engine, but Joe and Lou came over and got into the back seat.

  “All right?” Joe asked. “It’s easier to drive across to the pig barn. Lugging that box wouldn’t be pleasant.”

  Jason hadn’t thought of that, yet he knew damn well the mince was heavy and the barn was couple of hundred metres away. He drove off, annoyed at himself.

  “Sorry to wake you up,” Cassie said.

  “Oh, get away with you,” Lou said. “I was out for the count earlier—Joe said Felix and Ted had been by—and I was mithered to miss the feeding.”

  “It keeps her on an even keel,” Joe said, probably for Jason’s benefit.

  An even keel? She’s a nutter, got to be. Why would she want to be reminded of her kid’s death all the time? “Makes you feel better, does it, Lou?”

  “Yes. Anyone who gets minced deserves it for the most part, although I heard it was Jiang earlier. What’s he done?”

  Jason smirked. Get out of that one, Cassie. There was her, griping at him for telling Ted and Felix about the machete, and now she’d have to dodge the bullet.

  “This is between us,” she said. “Brett Davis tried to rob the drugs from the Jade tonight.”

  You what? Jason’s blood boiled. So it was okay for her to blab about it but not him? He parked up, livid, having trouble keeping his rage contained.

  “You’re Dad’s best mate, Joe, so I don’t mind you knowing,” she went on.

  Like that’s an excuse. What happened to keeping a fucking lid on it?

  “Whoever it was panicked and sliced Jiang.” Cassie unclipped her seat belt. “He didn’t even bring a holdall or owt to put the drugs in. Stupid prat. We found Brett dead at his place, hence the box of mince.”

  Brett didn’t take a holdall? I bloody told him he needed one!

  “So he was killed by whoever got him to go to the Jade?” Joe asked.

  “Seems like it. Come on, let’s get this over with.” Cassie got out.

  Jason contemplated remaining in the car, letting those three get on with things, but he needed to hear any more conversation. He stomped out, round to the boot and, along with Joe, lugged the box to the barn. Cassie and Lou walked behind.

  “Brett should have known not to go to the takeaway,” Lou said. “And whoeve
r employed him is a twat.”

  Jason almost dropped his end of the box.

  “Ay up, lad. Steady.” Joe chuckled.

  Lou overtook them and unlocked the barn. If they weren’t careful, Jason would get himself a lorry, come here one night in disguise, and steal all the pigs if Lou said one more bad thing about him.

  That’d serve her right.

  She switched on the light, and Jason blinked. The pen, divided into three sections, contained a shitload of pigs, all grunting despite having been fed not long ago.

  Greedy bastards.

  Jason helped carry the box over there, his arm muscles straining with the effort, wondering how such a skinny man had turned into heavy mince. Joe got to work digging his gloved hands into the mince and lobbing it at the swine. Lou came over, using her bare hands to snatch up clods of Brett, and she smiled as she threw it at the grunting fuckers.

  She was definitely mental, laughing like that. Jason shuddered and had to look away, not because of the feeding, but her, Lou, enjoying it so much. Jess being dead must have mashed her brain or something. Cassie also averted her gaze, although she didn’t glance at Jason. He watched her and…were her eyes filling up? Did she have sympathy for the childless woman?

  A chink in her armour. That’s a decent bit of info.

  Jason smiled. Bingo, at last.

  Chapter Eight

  Lou stood in her kitchen, boiling the kettle for coffee, grumbling to herself about that prat Cassie had brought with her. Lou didn’t like Jason. There was something about him, but she’d never been able to put her finger on it. Right from a kid he’d been…off. Maybe it was his eyes, the way he seemed to see right through you, or just his manner in general: bolshy with a side of wanker. Sneaky fucker. She’d ask herself why Cassie had him as her right hand, but she knew well enough. Lenny had chosen him, and while he’d been in decline, Cassie acting on his behalf, Jason had been by her side, learning the ropes as well as some of the Grafton secrets.

  Dodgy to allow that, if you asked Lou, but no one was asking, so she wouldn’t put forward her opinion in words, but she’d damn well work out how to do it silently. He was a wrongun, she knew it, and Cassie should be aware.

  Francis had phoned the other day, in need of a chat. That poor woman, having to hide her true feelings about her husband’s death. Well, she couldn’t show it in public or Lenny would turn in his grave, haunt them. The Graftons had to act as though they were harder than granite in front of others, but how were the women he’d left behind meant to grieve? On the quiet, it seemed, a stiff upper lip and all that.

  It was a lot to ask, and she should know. Losing Jess had broken her, and she’d admit that if she didn’t have the mince coming to keep her need for justice alive, she’d top herself, follow her kiddie into Heaven to cuddle her again, smell her sweet smell, and listen to her tinkling laughter. But there was Joe being wrecked again if she did that and, like Francis’s dilemma with Cassie, she couldn’t allow herself to leave her husband behind.

  There was little time for Cassie to mourn, even if she wanted to. She’d jumped in at the deep end on Barrington business, and Lou was bloody glad she had, else Jess’ real killer would never have been found. That nasty Vance would have died of his heart condition, taking his secret to the grave if Brenda hadn’t gone in as his fake carer, and everyone in the know would have still assumed The Mechanic had murdered Lou’s girl.

  Oh, he’d been the one to abduct her, along with someone else in the back of a van, but he hadn’t snuffed her life out. Lou had a bit of a beef with Lenny’s ghost over that. How could he have got it so wrong? And she had a beef with the police an’ all. They hadn’t fared any better. The Mechanic hadn’t even been on their bacon-ish bleedin’ radar, and as for the second man helping, he’d never been traced.

  What had they been playing at? Why hadn’t they done their job properly and solved the crime? How come it had taken Lenny and Cassie to do it?

  Lou had a little plan reforming, one she wanted to talk to Cassie about. Joe wouldn’t want to know, not when she explained what it was, but Cassie, well, she’d most likely be in agreement. While Lenny couldn’t be punished for fucking up, the police could, and Lou had it in mind to make all those top dogs on Jess’ case pay.

  She couldn’t do it alone, though.

  Once she’d thought it all through to within an inch of its life, she’d ask Cassie to nip round, or maybe she’d go to Francis’ house first on New Barrington, the big posh place Lenny had bought, built on land Joe had owned. Lenny had also bought the land where The Beast stood between Old and New Barrington, Sculptor’s Field, the place Karen Scholes had found Jess’ tiny lifeless body. It was a monument to her baby now, a great hulking horse-like thing—she’d said horse, but no one could make up their minds what it was, hence the name it’d been given. Lou went there sometimes and sat on the plinth, staring at the spot on the grass, imagining Jess there. She told her fairy tales, especially Jess’ favourite, Sleeping Beauty, and it was a sad thing, seeing as that was who Jess was now, a beautiful girl asleep forever, always three years old.

  That was where her need to get justice had come from, one of those visits. Watching the pigs eating wasn’t enough anymore. She yearned for retribution, to set her soul at ease.

  She jumped at the thud of footsteps. Joe coming in, his great wellies whacking the floor. He’d go into the mudroom to remove them, placing them against the wall beside Jess’ dinky ones. Keeping their daughter’s things around, her bedroom intact, helped Lou still feel close to her. She’d overheard some woman saying it was morbid, that time she’d gone into one of the little shops on the Barrington, and Lou should have packed up Jess’ belongings and put them in the loft.

  Who was she to say what was right for Lou? Such a cheeky cow. Lou had wanted to run home, fling herself into Joe’s arms and cry, but instead she’d held the tears back and walked around the end of the aisle to confront the gossiper. Funny enough, it had been Jason’s snooty mother, Gina.

  “If you’ve got something to say,” Lou had said, “say it to my fucking face. Or better yet, tell Lenny how you think I’m morbid. He’ll let you know what you can do with your opinion, and it won’t just be sticking it up your fat arse.”

  Gina didn’t have a fat arse, but Lou had enjoyed the look of alarm on the woman’s face. Lou had stalked off, back to the other side of the aisle, and grabbed the tin of baked beans she’d come for.

  God, she still got boiled up about that. Maybe that was why she didn’t like Jason. She’d transferred her dislike for his mother onto him. Hate by association.

  Cheeks hot with the remembrance of that incident, Lou turned at the clatter of more footfalls, annoyed that Jason came into her kitchen, followed by Cassie. She thought they’d have buggered off now the pigs had been fed.

  Obviously not.

  She took two more cups out, keeping her sigh to herself and making out she didn’t mind. “Sit yourselves down. You must need a break after such a busy night.”

  “It isn’t over yet.” Cassie eased onto a chair, sounding weary yet determined at the same time.

  Sometimes, it was hard to look at Cassie without breaking down. It took all Lou’s strength not to do so. Jess would have been the same age, and Lou often wondered how her girl would have turned out. She’d never get over her death, but a part of her wanted to crawl out of this never-ending mourning and laugh a bit more, eat a bit more. Her appetite hadn’t come back since that dreadful day she’d heard the news of her child being snatched, and Joe usually said she only ate enough to fill a sparrow.

  He came in then, ushering her to the table so he could finish the drinks, ever the caring husband. He was a good man, the best, and she couldn’t risk him getting wind of her plan if it went ahead. If he didn’t know owt, he couldn’t get done for it. Hopefully with Cassie’s help, Lou wouldn’t either.

  She sat opposite Jason. He eyed her funny, like she was muck on his shoe or he knew all about what she’d said to his mothe
r years ago. Maybe he had the hate-by-association thing going on as well. She bit back a mean snipe. That was what it was, the reason she didn’t like him. He gadded about like his shit didn’t stink, didn’t he, his mother an’ all, yet they were from the Barrington, the worst street, and no better than anyone else. They had airs above their station.

  “What’s next then?” she said instead.

  Jason scowled as if she shouldn’t be asking about Barrington business, like she didn’t have the right. What he didn’t know was Lou had Francis’ ear, had for years, and would likely find out anyroad when Francis next gave her a bell. They were family friends of old and shared stories from time to time.

  Cassie sighed and fully explained the events of the evening, her voice creaking by the time she’d finished. “So now we’ve got to go and see the laundrette woman. I can’t bloody remember her name.”

  “That’s going to be tricky one.” Joe brought a tray of cups over, a milk jug, and a bowl of sugar. He put them on the table and sat.

  “Why’s that?” Cassie reached for a coffee. “Thanks for this.” She blew then sipped.

  Lou took hers, too. “It’s Geoff’s sister, Helen.” She winced. “Davis.”

  “Shit.” Cassie held her cup midair and massaged her temple. “Brett’s aunt?”

  “Yes, they brought him up between them, if you remember, along with Geoff’s missus.” Lou swallowed a mouthful of her drink. “Brett’s mam and dad…disappeared.”

  “What?” Cassie frowned.

  “Look in Lenny’s books,” Joe said. “It’ll be in one of those.”

  Jason seemed to come alive at the mention of the books, and Lou kicked her husband softly under the table. As far as Lou was aware, not many knew about them. They were leather volumes in Lenny’s home office and contained the names of all the residents in one, and the others had everyone’s misdemeanours in them, the punishments or fines they’d received, and God knew what else. Mind you, if Jason took it upon himself to read them, he’d have a hard job. Lenny had devised a code, and only Cassie and Francis knew how to interpret it.