The Victim (14 page)

Pulling up outside Pat the Pigeon’s house, Raymond smirked. Unlike the previous day, his father’s car was parked on the drive and he was pleased he hadn’t had another wasted journey. Raymond knocked on the front door. His nickname for Pat was ‘the Trollop’ and it was the Trollop who answered it.

‘Is me dad there?’ he asked coldly.

‘Wait there and I’ll fetch him,’ Pat replied, just as icily.

Stanley appeared a couple of minutes later and glared at his son. He’d never truly forgiven Raymond for his involvement on the night of Jessica’s murder.

‘I’m cleaning out the pigeons. What do you want?’ he asked, clearly rattled.

‘We need to talk, Dad. Not here, somewhere else.’

‘There’s nothing more to say, Raymond. I’ve said everything I wanted to your mother.’

‘There’s a boozer I know not ten minutes from here that opens early. Let’s go there for a pint, Dad, so we can talk properly.’

‘I don’t want to drink at nine o’clock in the morning. Anyway I can’t, Pat and I are racing the pigeons today.’

Getting annoyed by his father’s shirty attitude, Raymond grabbed him by the neck of his jumper and dragged him out of the front door.

‘What are you doing? Get off me, you fucking thug,’ Stanley shouted loudly.

‘I’m taking you back home where you belong. Mum is in bits because of you and I ain’t having her heart broken. It’s nearly Christmas, for fuck’s sake. How’s she meant to get through the festive period without you and Jessica, eh?’

Pat the Pigeon, who had had her nose pressed to the window, now flung it open. ‘You OK, Stanley?’ she yelled, as her fancy man was dragged down the path.

‘Ring the police, Pat,’ Stanley gasped.

Raymond glanced around and saw Pat with the phone pressed to her ear. Eddie liked his employees to keep their noses clean and he couldn’t afford to get nicked for kidnapping his own father. Polly wouldn’t be overly impressed, either.

As Raymond let go of him, Stanley fell backwards and landed on his backside. Ray stared at him with a look of pure hatred on his face. ‘You’re no father of mine any more. Mum can do better than you, anyway. You and that old trollop deserve one another.’

Eddie Mitchell got to Milton Keynes long before the Victoria Inn opened its doors. He checked out the park the dog-walker had told him about on his last visit and decided it was too open.

‘What about over there, Dad? There’s more woodland over that side,’ Gary suggested.

Eddie shrugged. ‘We’ll have to see if we can park over that way somewhere. There’s too many people over here and we’ll stand out like sore thumbs dragging Colin across the park. We ain’t even got a fucking dog to make it look kosher.’

‘We can always put Colin on a lead,’ Ricky joked.

Eddie chuckled, then turned to Stuart. ‘We’ll have a little drive around, there’s bound to be somewhere more remote than this.’

The lads jumped back into the Range Rover and within ten minutes Eddie had found the exact kind of spot they were looking for. It was a dirt track over the other side of the park. There were no houses, no people and thick clumps of trees.

‘Right, this will do nicely. Now, remember exactly where it is and we’ll take a drive towards the pub. It will be open in half-hour and I wanna grab hold of the cunt before he goes in there,’ Eddie said.

Fifteen minutes later, the Range Rover was parked in a turning between the pub and the road where Colin Griffiths lived.

‘How do you know he walks there? He might take his motor,’ Ricky said.

‘Would you fucking drive if you lived less than a five-minute walk away?’ Eddie replied sarcastically.

At five to twelve exactly, Ricky spotted Colin. ‘That’s him with the brown leather jacket on,’ he told Stuart.

Stuart put on his baseball cap and got out of the Range Rover. He felt no nerves; the whole experience was exhilarating for him.

‘All right, mate?’ Stuart said as he crept up behind Colin and put a friendly arm around his neck.

‘Get off me, you weirdo,’ Colin said trying to push him away.

Stuart was tall and strong and Colin was no match for him. Stu glanced around and, positive that no one was watching him, flicked open the knife and held the blade against Colin’s throat.

‘Walk with me and you won’t get hurt,’ he said, as he led him towards the Range Rover.

‘Who are you? What do you want from me?’ Colin asked fearfully.

Eddie waved and Colin’s face turned pure white as he spotted him.

Stuart shoved Colin in the back of the motor.

‘I’m sorry about not paying you on time, Eddie. I weren’t gonna knock you. I’ll get you your money, I promise,’ Colin stammered.

‘Pass me the bat,’ Ed ordered Gary.

Gary took the baseball bat out from under the seat and placed it on his father’s lap. Eddie stopped at the red traffic light, turned around and clumped Colin over the head with it.

‘Mr Mitchell to you. Only my friends call me Eddie, you cunt.’

Colin clutched his throbbing head. Whatever had possessed him to think he could stripe up Eddie Mitchell and get away with it? He must have been mad. ‘I’m really sorry. I’ll pay you interest and everything,’ Colin begged as Eddie pulled up on the dirt track.

‘Get him out and walk him through them trees,’ Eddie ordered his sons.

‘What exactly do you want me to do to him?’ Stuart asked Eddie.

Eddie put on a pair of latex gloves, and took an axe out of the boot. ‘He needs to be taught a lesson. One finger, perhaps two, I’ll let you choose, boy.’

Gary stopped by a clump of trees, kneed Colin in the groin and sniggered as he rolled on the floor in agony.

Eddie walked over to their victim and crouched down beside him. ‘I want twenty-five grand off you and I want it by the end of next week. Comprendes?’

‘I’ll get your money for you, I swear,’ Colin promised.

‘I’ll be coming to your house at midday next Friday to pick it up and if you ain’t got every last penny of it, you’re a dead man.’

‘I understand, Mr Mitchell.’

Gary glanced at Ricky as Eddie gave Stuart the nod. Now they would see what their father’s golden boy was made of.

‘Please God, no,’ Colin screamed, as he spotted Stuart holding the axe.

Stuart knelt on Colin’s left arm, then brought the axe down expertly just past his knuckles.

Colin’s screams filled the cold December air as two of his fingers parted company with his hand.

Eddie found Colin’s phone in his pocket. The prick looked as if he was losing consciousness and he needed to act fast. ‘Can you hear me, Colin?’

Colin nodded.

‘Right, I’m gonna dial nine, nine, nine, then you’re gonna ask for an ambulance. Tell them that you’re at the dirt track that leads to the back end of the park. When they turn up, you tell them you were chopping branches off the trees for a bonfire and you had a little accident, OK?’

‘OK,’ Colin croaked.

Eddie dialled the number and was relieved when Colin managed to tell the operator where he was.

‘What they for?’ Ricky asked, as his father threw a roll of dustbin liners on the ground.

‘Well, he weren’t gonna carry the fucking branches home in his hands, was he now?’ Ed replied cuttingly.

‘See you next Friday, Colin,’ Ed said, prodding him. The two fingers were lying next to Colin’s body, one with his wedding ring still attached.

Colin had his eyes shut now and Ed urged the lads to get back to the motor fast. ‘We’d better wait nearby, make sure the ambulance finds him,’ he said.

‘Do you reckon they’ll be able to sew his fingers back on?’ Stuart asked seriously.

Gary, Ricky and Eddie all burst out laughing. Stuart had been a real dab hand with the axe and his cool persona had impressed all of them.

Hearing sirens, Eddie glanced in his interior mirror. The ambulance had slowed down and had turned into the road that led to the dirt track. ‘I think we should stop for a beer when we get back near home. We can toast Stuart’s success on passing his trial.’

Ricky held out his right hand. ‘Well done, Stu. You were great.’

Stuart shook his hand and then grinned as Gary also offered him a handshake. ‘You did good! Welcome to the firm, Stuie boy.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The day prior to Christmas Eve, Jed and his cousin Sammy went out on one of their notorious all-day drinking sessions. Their pub crawl started with well-known travellers’ haunts. They went to the Derby Digger in Wickford, the Bear in Noak Hill and had a skinful in the Farmhouse Tavern in Rush Green. They finally ended up in the Ship and Shovel in Barking, where they blagged two thirty-year-old birds and ended up back at their flat. At 6 a.m. Jed snorted his last line of cocaine, then wiped his finger over the wrap and rubbed the final grains around his gums.

‘That’s it, we’ve no more gear left,’ he said to the none-too-pretty bird who had been sucking him off for the last fifteen minutes. The bird released Jed’s penis from her mouth, moved up the bed and laid her head lovingly on his chest. Jed studied her as she tilted her head and smiled at him. He’d been well pissed when he’d met her last night, but in the cold light of day, she was not only fat, but also pig ugly. Jed pushed her off him, stood up and searched for his clothes.

‘Shall I make you some breakfast?’ the girl asked, completely smitten.

‘No, I’ve gotta get home. Me chavvies will be wondering where I am.’

‘What’s a chavvie?’

Jed ignored her dumb question and went to find his cousin. He found him on the sofa, naked and snuggled up to the pig’s mate. Jed punched Sammy on the arm.

‘Come on, it’s Christmas Eve. Let’s gel.’

With only vague memories of the previous evening, Sammy jumped up and quickly got dressed. He was now living with Julie, Sally’s mate, but he had her well under the thumb and came and went as he pleased.

‘You ain’t going yet, are ya?’ Sammy’s conquest asked.

Jed and Sammy both stared at the girl. Her skin was pure white, and she had ginger hair, freckles and a wide nose that was far too big for her face.

‘Fuck me and I thought mine was a moose,’ Jed said, laughing.

‘Come on, I feel ill looking at that,’ Sammy said, dragging his cousin towards the front door. Neither Jed nor Sammy said goodbye to the girls; they didn’t even know their names.

Unable to remember driving to the flat, Jed was relieved to see his Shogun parked across the road.

‘You must have had a dig in this last night, Jed. Look at the bumper and your wheel arch,’ Sammy said.

Jed glanced at the damage, then chuckled. ‘If I were you I wouldn’t worry about me having a dig in this – you wanna worry about what part of your anatomy you were digging into that monster you got hold of last night. I’ve shagged some rotters in my time, but ole ginger minge beats ’em all. You wanna get yourself down that clinic, Sammy boy.’

Playfully punching his cousin on the arm, Sammy got into the motor and was surprised to see a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s lying in the footwell. ‘Where did we get this from? Did we drink all that?’ he asked, picking the bottle up.

Jed shrugged. Neither he nor Sammy were usually whiskey drinkers, and Jed vaguely remembered a fellow traveller giving them the bottle in the Farmhouse Tavern.

Sammy unscrewed the lid, took a large gulp and handed the bottle to Jed, who did the same. ‘Ain’t there a boozer open now? I fancy carrying on for another few hours,’ Sammy said.

Jed turned the ignition and grinned. ‘I’ve got a better idea than going to some poxy boozer.’

‘What?’ Sammy asked.

‘Harry Mitchell’s buried not ten minutes from here. Let’s go over the cemetery, drink the rest of our JD and trash his grave. I remember Frankie telling me that Eddie Mitchell goes over there on Christmas Eve, so we can give the cunt a nice surprise, can’t we?’

Sammy roared with laughter. ‘Come on, let’s do it.’

Eddie Mitchell woke up early and arched his body into Gina’s back. He was really looking forward to Christmas this year, having just spent the last four in Wandsworth nick. It would also be the first time he and Gina had celebrated the festivities together, which made it even more special.

‘Stop it,’ Gina giggled, as she felt his erection rubbing against her buttocks. Eddie chuckled and rubbed his hands against her pregnant stomach. She was only ten weeks gone and was hardly showing, but he liked to wind her up, as he knew she was paranoid about getting really fat and being unable to lose the weight after the baby was born.

‘Fuckin’ hell, girl. You ain’t ’arf piling it on already,’ he joked.

‘Oh, don’t say that,’ Gina said turning towards him to see if he was serious.

‘I’m only winding you up, there’s fuck-all of ya,’ Eddie said, laughing.

Gina playfully slapped his chest. ‘What time is it?’

‘Seven.’

‘And why have you woken me at this unearthly hour? You’d better have a bloody good reason,’ Gina said, pretending to be annoyed.

Eddie grabbed her hand and put it on his fully erect penis. ‘That good enough for ya?’

Gina laughed. ‘I suppose it’ll have to be.’

Joycie Smith put the sausage rolls in the oven then sat down to drink her cup of tea. Everyone coming to her for Christmas Day had been a last-minute arrangement. Raymond had originally been spending the day with Polly and her parents in their new house in Loughton, but because of everything that had happened with Stanley, Raymond had insisted on coming to her instead.

‘You can’t rattle around on your own in this big house at Christmas, Mum. Why don’t I invite Polly and her parents over here and we can all spend it together? There’s plenty of room here and Polly, her parents and I can all stay the night.’

Joyce had reluctantly agreed. She hated Polly’s parents, but was glad she was spending the day with her son. Since Jessica had died, Christmas had always been a difficult time for her and at least if she had a houseful she could keep herself busy with all the cooking and preparation that went with it. Joey and Dominic were coming for dinner and were also staying the night. Eddie had invited her over to his for dinner on Boxing Day, but Joyce had declined, as she was wary of meeting Gina. It would feel strange seeing another woman in Jessica’s shoes, and Joyce was worried that she might find the experience too emotional, especially at this time of year.

Joyce hadn’t heard a word from or about her philandering husband since the day Raymond had gone round to see him. She had been devastated when her son had returned home and told her that Stanley was staying with the old slapper, but her devastation had now turned to anger. She still had her off days where she would burst into tears but, overall, she was coping. Stanley had made her look a laughing stock and she would never forgive him for that as long as she lived. One day Stanley would come crawling back with his tail between his legs, and if Joyce allowed him to move back in, she would make his life hell.

Finishing her cuppa, Joyce stood up. She hated those shop-bought mince pies – her own were much better and she was determined to impress Polly’s parents. The doorbell stopped her in her tracks. It was ever so early and she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. She had recently changed all the locks and briefly wondered if it was Stanley.

‘Surprise!’ two voices said in unison, as she opened the front door.

Joyce stood with her mouth open. Rita and Hilda were her oldest friends and had been brilliant since the Stanley episode.

‘Ain’t you gonna invite us in?’ Hilda asked, waving a bottle of sherry in the air.

‘Course I am. I’m just shocked to see ya both, especially this bleedin’ early.’

Rita laughed and handed Joyce a big bouquet of flowers. ‘My Albert has gone to see his witch of a sister in Ockendon, so he dropped us off on the way. Me and Hilda would like to come over Jessica’s grave with ya. That’s what the flowers are for.’

Smiling, Joyce led them into the lounge. She had a lovely family, wonderful friends and Stanley could go and fuck himself.

Half-an-hour later, the postman’s arrival turned Joycie’s newfound happiness into despair. ‘Oh, my giddy aunt,’ she cried.

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Rita asked, as Joyce sank to her knees.

Joyce waved the letter in the air. ‘It’s Stanley. He’s filed for divorce.’

Over at East London Cemetery, Jed and Sammy sat down on a grave opposite Harry Mitchell’s and admired their handiwork. Jed always kept a load of crap in the motor for when they did odd jobs for old people whom they later conned, and he had just decorated Harry’s grave in red and blue paint. Sammy had joined in by smashing the headstone with a big hammer and Jed was now ready to put the icing on the cake.

‘Why don’t we trash his old woman’s grave an’ all?’ Sammy suggested. Harry had bought his own plot years before his death so he could be laid to rest beside his beloved wife.

‘Nah, we ain’t got time,’ Jed said, snatching the bottle from Sammy and downing the last of the Jack Daniel’s. Smashing the empty bottle against Harry’s headstone, Jed stood up, took some tissue out of his pocket and crouched down on Harry’s grave.

‘What the fuck you doing?’ Sammy asked, confused.

‘Having a shit – what does it look like?’ Jed chuckled.

Sammy creased up laughing as Jed performed his dirty deed. ‘Do you think we’ll find a boozer open now?’ he asked as Jed wiped his arse with a tissue.

Jed ignored his cousin’s question and stared at the destroyed grave. Cocaine always gave him the shits and his diarrhoea was steaming in the cold December air. ‘That’s what you get for shooting my grandad, Mitchell. Happy Christmas, you old cunt.’

Laughing like hyenas, Jed and Sammy legged it from the scene of the crime.

Eddie was in a jovial mood as he picked Joey up and drove towards Upminster. Firstly they were visiting Jessica’s grave, then his mum and dad’s graves, where they were meeting his uncle Reg, and aunts Vi and Joanie. From there they were going to have a few drinks in Canning Town to toast Harry’s memory.

‘So, are Vi and Reg going to be there as well?’ Joey asked warily.

‘Yeah, why do you sound so worried?’ Eddie asked.

‘I just sense they aren’t that comfortable with my sexuality, that’s all.’

Eddie laughed. ‘Fuck ’em, what do they know, eh?’

When they pulled up at the cemetery, Joey grabbed a bunch of flowers from the back seat and smiled. His dad’s acceptance of him and Dominic as a couple meant the world to him.

‘So where is lover boy today?’ Ed asked.

‘He’s gone to visit his nan. Dom’s parents forbade him to tell her about us in case it gave her a heart attack. She’s got a dodgy ticker, apparently.’

Eddie chuckled, but as they reached Jessica’s grave his mood turned sombre. ‘Hello, my darling,’ he said sadly.

Joey arranged the flowers and then placed the Christmas card he’d bought for his mum next to them. ‘THE WORLD’S GREATEST MUM’ was plastered across the front and as Joey began to read the inscription inside, Eddie crouched down and began to weep. ‘I still love you, sweetheart, and I hope you don’t think that because I’m now with Gina that I’ve forgotten about you. I’ll never forget you, Jess, and there ain’t a day goes by when I don’t miss you, babe.’

Not used to seeing his dad cry, Joey bent down and put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulder. He was crying himself now, but not to the same extent as his dad. ‘Come on, let’s go before we upset ourselves any further,’ he said.

Eddie kissed the inside of his hand and placed it against Jessica’s headstone. He’d been here a few times since he’d come out of prison, but he never stayed long, as it upset him too much. As they walked back to the car park, Eddie dried his eyes on the cuff of his jumper.

‘You must think I’m a right soppy prick,’ he said to Joey.

Joey shook his head. ‘Course I don’t, but shall I tell you what I do think?’

‘What?’

‘I think me and you are far more alike than we ever gave ourselves credit for, apart from me being gay, of course.’

Eddie smiled. He loved Gary and Ricky dearly, but just lately he’d felt closer to Joey than he ever had to them. He put his arm around him.

‘Like father, like son, eh?’

Joey laughed. ‘Like father, like son.’

Back in Rainham, Rita and Hilda were caught in a bit of a quandary. The letter from Stanley’s solicitor had tipped Joyce over the edge and, after crying and drinking herself senseless, she had now collapsed in a heap on the carpet.

‘What are we gonna do? Try her Raymond again,’ Rita ordered Hilda.

Rita had found Joycie’s address book and had been ringing both numbers listed for Raymond. She tried them both again.

‘Well?’ Rita asked impatiently. Albert would be back to pick her up soon, but she couldn’t leave Joyce on her own in this state.

‘There’s no answer on the home phone and on the other one some woman is saying, “We can’t connect your call.”’

‘What woman? Ask her where Raymond is, then,’ Rita yelled.

‘Don’t fucking shout: I can’t ask her, it’s one of them answer-phone thingymebobs.’

‘This is all your fault. What did you have to bring her that bloody sherry over for?’ Rita said.

‘Don’t bleedin’ well blame me. I didn’t know she was gonna drink the whole bastard bottle, did I?’ Hilda hollered.

Seeing the funny side of matters, Rita burst out laughing. ‘There ain’t never a dull moment with our Joycie, is there?’