by Emmy Ellis
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cassie had dropped Mam off so she could change, and Doreen had gone home to burn her clothes and boots in her living room fireplace. What a night, but it wasn’t over yet. Cassie waited for Jimmy on New Barrington in a car park behind the parade of shops, the interior light on. She’d had the chance at home to listen to the recording he’d sent earlier and now needed him to be more than a grass.
He coasted into the space beside her, switched the engine off, and got out to climb into her passenger seat. “All right?”
“Yes, had a bit of business to attend to and I’ve only just finished.”
He stared across at her. “You’ve got blood on you.”
She shrugged. “Probably. Like I said, business.”
“Fucking hell. I won’t ask.”
“Good. I have another job for you.” She’d picked up five grand from Mam’s safe, tucking it inside a padded brown envelope, then she’d phoned the thorn in her side and demanded he meet her, too, just not here. “Babysitting.”
“I don’t think that’s my bag,” he said. “Kids are a bit much for me.”
“It isn’t a kid, although he acts like one sometimes. The person’s meeting us outside the squat. He wasn’t best pleased at me getting him out of bed, pissed up as he still is, but he’s my right hand and has to do whatever I ask him.”
“You want me to babysit Jason?”
“Is that going to be a problem?” She took the envelope out of the door cubby, opened it, and showed him the contents. “Five Gs. You can split it with Shirl, take it in shifts.”
“Not being funny, but I don’t want Shirl anywhere near him. What if he hurts her?”
“He won’t be in a position to hurt her, trust me on that. Do you want the job or not?”
Jimmy sighed. “Yeah, I could do with that amount of cash, to be honest.”
“How are you at witnessing violence?”
“Not sure.”
“You’ll be seeing a fair bit. Follow me to the squat. If I give you an order when we’re there, you follow it, right?”
Jimmy nodded and left the car. She switched the interior light off, drove round the side of the shops, and waited for the beam of his headlamps behind. They slashed into her car, and she eased out onto the road, heading for the squat, hers, Mam’s, Karen’s, and Zhang Wei’s clothes and footwear in a bag, ready for the furnace. She also had to sort that machete.
Jason’s belligerent, drunken ranting replayed in her mind.
“Oh, so you want me now, do you, when it’s dark?”
“Just get to the bloody squat.”
“I’ve been drinking.”
“So? You managed to get home in your car from The Donny, I’ll bet.”
“Whatever. If I get stopped…”
“You’ll get done for drink driving, no biggie, although I can get it arranged that you weren’t stopped at all, and any paperwork at the cop shop meets a shredder, computer files deleted. Please, for once, just do something without arguing.”
She arrived at the squat, angry at seeing Jason standing there, the bottom-right and top-left lights on in the house, the lower yellow glow creating a rectangular shaft that bled onto his back, giving him a mustard aura. She pulled up to the left and got out, slamming the door and startling some sleeping birds from the tree ahead. They cawed and complained, flying over the house. Jimmy left his car next to hers and joined her on the snow-covered grass.
“Who’s that with you?” Jason shouted over.
“Fucking arsewipe,” Cassie muttered to Jimmy. “You have no idea how much I hate him. Now, go along with what I’m going to say—that I found out you’d planned to sell those drugs you mentioned. I need to tell him that to get him in the house.”
“But he’s got a gun. I saw it tonight.”
Cassie moved to her boot and took out her briefcase. “Don’t worry about it. He won’t use it unless I say so, and I won’t.”
“This isn’t a fucking setup, is it?”
She placed a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I swear to you, it’s him I’m after. Come on.” She shut the boot then walked towards a swaying Jason, her irritation building the closer she got. The lights being on without blackout blinds drawn was enough to piss her off, alerting people driving by to the fact the squat was in use, but his indignant expression meant he’d get harsher treatment.
“What’s Jimmy doing here?” Jason slurred.
“You should know, you recorded him tonight and sent it to me.”
Jason blinked a few times. “I did?”
“Yes, I assume you ranting on about taking over the Barrington was your way of getting him to trust you. Nice move.”
Jason straightened his jacket, chuffed with himself. “Well, yeah, I have my ways of getting information.”
“Jimmy here has come for a lesson, his warning, and next time I bring him here, he won’t come back out alive. He understands the rules.”
Jason laughed, throwing his head back. “Fucking priceless.”
“In we go then.” Cassie waited, impatient, for Jason to compose himself.
He entered the squat, tripping over the threshold, and steadied himself on the hallway wall. He was that drunk he hadn’t even noticed the blood on her face.
“Stay in the living room doorway for a bit,” Cassie whispered to Jimmy. “I don’t want you getting hurt. But watch and learn.”
She walked inside, Jason in the living room now. He paced by the window, the twat, in full view if anyone drove past.
“Shut that bloody blind,” she snapped.
He fumbled with it, so she put her briefcase on top of an old bookcase and opened it. Along with her whip, which still had Karen’s flesh on it, were a pair of handcuffs and a large square of rag. Jason still farted about with the blind, so she took advantage of him having his back to her and walked over there, reached up, and snapped one circlet of the cuff on his wrist. She’d grabbed his other arm by the time he’d twigged. Another snap of the cuff, and his hands dangled over his arse.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Balance shot, he lurched forward and banged his head on the edge of the window recess.
Cassie stepped back and took her weapon out, hiding it behind her back. “Jason, go and stand in the usual corner.”
He turned, his cheeks ruddy, and bared his teeth. “Get these things off me.”
“I said, go and stand in the corner.”
“Fuck you.”
She flashed her whip out, and it landed on his face in a diagonal, spikes sticking into his nose and chin, another perilously close to his upper eyelid. He screamed. She tugged downwards, the skin splitting.
“I can yank this away now or you can go and stand in the corner like I asked.”
He growled, blood streaking down to his jawline, and pushed himself into the left-hand corner opposite the door. “You fucking mad bitch. You’ve lost it good and proper this time.”
Cassie tugged.
Jason screamed again.
“Jimmy, would you mind shutting that blind then going back to the door?”
Panting, eyes bulging, Jason snarled, “So he’s your right hand now, is that it?”
“No, just a grass and babysitter. I’m teetering between getting Glen back or asking Doreen Prince to help me out.”
Jason laughed, watching Jimmy move to the doorway. “Doreen? You really have lost it.”
“That’s none of your concern. So, all these anti-depressants you were going to feed me and Mam. Who’s the supplier?”
“Piss off.”
“You don’t want to talk?” Cassie tilted her head. “Fine.”
She yanked the whip off, ignoring Jason’s screeching, and lashed it at him again and again, aiming for his face every time. She kept on, never letting up between strikes in case he tried to get away. His drunkenness combined with the pain must have kept him in place, the only reaction him trying to deflect the barbs by dipping his head, but the end of the whip snaked around to attach it
self to his scalp. His lack of giving her a mouthful angered her, she wanted a dead good argument, but there was one thing she could do to set him off. She ripped the barbs from his head and biceps and waited for him to calm down.
So much blood, so many holes and rips. Both his top eyelids had been torn away, one side of a nostril missing, and half of his bottom lip flapped down. He only had one eyebrow.
“You’re such a prick, Jason.”
He roared and charged at her, headfirst, aiming to butt her. She sidestepped, and he flew forward, cracking his head on the opposite wall. He rebounded, landing on his arse, breathing heavy, his shoulders rising with each inhale. He tried to blink blood away, but with no eyelids, it dribbled over his irises.
“You’re a bidge,” he said.
“Was that bitch? It must be hard to speak with that ripped lip. I’ll fix it for you, then we can talk.” She ignored Jimmy’s “Fuck me sideways” and placed her whip back in the briefcase. From a pouch in the side, she took a sewing kit out, removing the fattest needle, and threaded black cotton through the end. She took it and a small pair of scissors over to her quarry.
“You godda be joe-ging,” he managed.
“Oh, you know me, Jason, I don’t joke. Now shut up, this is going to sting.” She sat on him. “If you give me any hassle, I’ll ask Jimmy to use your own gun to shoot you in the knee.”
Jason groaned. He knew her well enough to realise she meant it, he was beaten, found out. She stabbed the needle into his lip and had to push hard to get it through, pausing for him to let out another scream, the cords in his neck sticking out from the force of it. Then she continued—push, pause, scream; push, pause, scream—until eventually she’d sewn his bottom lip together. Tight.
She leant back and admired her skill. “It’ll do.”
Blood poured from the needle holes, and his lip swelled. She took his gun from the holster, got off him, and cut the thread. Sewing kit back in the briefcase, she turned to smile at Jimmy.
“All right?”
He shook his head. “I feel a bit sick to be honest.”
“That’ll pass once you’ve given this prat a few kickings. You might even get to like it. I need him watched for a couple of days, okay?” She checked the gun for bullets. “There’s six rounds, so make sure you save the last one for his head if he gets super lairy.” She handed it to Jimmy. “I’d like to kill him myself but understand if you have to do it. Or Shirl.”
“He could get up and still hurt her.” Jimmy nodded over at Jason.
“Not when I’ve finished with him, he won’t. Give me your car keys so I can move it around the back. I won’t be long, and he isn’t going anywhere for the minute.”
She rushed upstairs to switch off the light in the front bedroom, then went round drawing all the blinds, sticking them to the wall with Velcro. Why had he even opened them? So he could watch for her car coming?
Outside, she shifted Jimmy’s vehicle then went to her boot, removing a tool that was set up ready, plus the bag with the clothes and boots inside. She returned to the squat, dumped the bag in the furnace, then went into the living room and plugged the tool in the wall socket closest to Jason.
Jimmy paled. “Oh my God.”
Cassie smiled at him and whipped around to stare at Jason. “You know I said your lip was going to sting? Well, this is going to be agony. I’m not a liar, unlike you, so you can’t say I wasn’t honest and didn’t warn you.”
She positioned the tool’s end over his shin, and he shouted words that had no meaning and attempted to get away, kicking out.
“Would you prefer this in your head?” she asked.
Jason snorted, teeth clenched, and would have closed his eyes if he could. Damn those missing lids. Cassie positioned the tool again. Pulled the trigger.
An eight-inch nail with a head the size of a penny shot into Jason’s leg, pinning him to the floor. His scream, so loud at first, petered out to silence, his mouth open, his lip on the verge of breaking away from the cotton. Cassie stared at the blood coating his trousers, then glanced at Jimmy.
“See? He’s not going anywhere.” She faced Jason.
He sobbed, wailed, drummed the heel of his other foot against the floor. It seemed he wasn’t going to calm down just yet, so she talked over his noise, wanting him to hear what she had to say before he passed out. She was surprised he hadn’t already.
“You’ll get visits from me every now and then, and in the end, you might actually talk, although I got the gist of what your plans were from Jimmy and Brenda.”
His eyes bugged.
“Aww, did you think she wouldn’t tell me owt? She knows exactly how to behave, and you should have, too. One golden rule, and you didn’t follow it: Always obey a Grafton.”
She grabbed the rag and stuffed it loosely in his mouth. He moved his tongue and spat the cloth out, ever needing some control. Briefcase in one hand, the nail gun in the other, she laughed and walked out, gesturing for Jimmy to go to the front door with her and open it.
“Take your keys from my pocket.” She cocked a hip.
Jimmy took them out, his hand shaking.
“Look, can you really handle this?” She watched for signs of lying.
He blew air out, his cheeks inflating. “I’ll give it a go.”
“It’s a bit of a shithole here, but I’ll get someone to drop a telly and some food round. They won’t ask questions, they’ll just do as I ask. The loo works, you’ve got running water and whatever. There’s a kettle and a few basics in the kitchen—sometimes we have a cuppa in between torturing people.” She smiled. “You didn’t realise how big this was, did you?”
“I’d heard stories but…nowt like this.”
“It’s in my blood, Jimmy, it’s what I do. Now, I’m going home to wash this shit off me.” She indicated the blood. “Gets a bit messy, my job.”
She left him to deal with Jason, posting the envelope with the money in it through the letterbox, then driving to Mam’s. She’d move back into her own flat soon, now Mam seemed to have rekindled her old calling, and there was some restructuring to do, but things would work out for the best. She’d ask Doreen to run The Life along with Sharon.
She turned into the drive, startled. Lou stood at the front door, about to knock. Why was she here at this ungodly hour? Had something happened to Joe? Lou turned and rushed towards her. Cassie stopped and got out, Lou looking sinister in the darkness.
“What’s happened?” Cassie asked.
“I was just about to knock your mam up, tell her it’s started. I couldn’t wait.”
“What’s started?”
“Me being the piggy farmer.”
Cassie couldn’t be doing with vagueness. “I’m knackered, Lou. What are you on about?”
“The piggy farmer, a woman who farms out pigs.”
Had Lou finally gone mad with grief?
“We know you farm pigs.” Cassie draped her arm across Lou’s shoulders. “Come away inside, we’ll talk to Mam.” She’ll have to sort this out because I can’t.
“Not those pigs.” Lou sounded so unlike herself it was eerie. “Come and see.” She walked to her car and opened the boot, snow shifting back to settle against the bottom of the rear window.
Cassie peered inside. PC Bob Holworth lay in the foetal position, a tyre mark across his squashed and bleeding head.
“These sorts of pigs,” Lou whispered. “I’m going to get them all, every last one who didn’t find my Jess.”
Cassie swallowed, nauseated. “Lou…”
The woman clutched Cassie’s arms and brought her round to face her. “Your mam’s said she’s in on this, so the question is, are you?”
To be continued in
The Piggy Farmer
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