The Victim (18 page)

‘Mr Peters, it’s DI Blyth here. You left me a message saying that Francesca Mitchell has some vital information for me.’

When Larry relayed Frankie’s exact words, DI Blyth felt the blood pumping faster through her veins. She had liked Frankie Mitchell and had always known when she’d interviewed her in relation to stabbing Jed that there was more to her predicament than met the eye.

‘I’ll speak to the prison now and will visit Frankie tomorrow, Mr Peters.’

Ending the call, Blyth picked up the rest of her sandwich and chomped away happily.

Terry Baldwin pulled up outside the iron fence with the red lettering where he’d been ordered to wait. He’d been instructed to drive to River Road in Barking, and, as he turned off his engine and headlights, the only sound was that of a ferocious-sounding guard dog barking its bonce off. Terry shivered. He didn’t know whether it was because the area gave him the creeps or the temperature had fallen below zero. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to try and keep them warm, Terry thought of his Sally. He’d kept the wake small, just a few people back at the house. The thought of having a piss-up in the pub was unbearable and he couldn’t have stomached it.

Terry nearly shat himself with fright as a light was flashed three times through the back window of his motor. He was expecting whoever he was meeting to arrive by car, not on a pushbike with a torch. He got out of the motor and walked towards the guy. He could barely see his face at all, as the bloke had a ski jacket on with a hood up and a scarf covering his mouth.

‘Did Jamie send you?’ Terry asked warily. There were no houses for miles and this weirdo could pull any kind of stroke if he wanted to.

Ignoring Terry’s question, the man pulled a plastic bag from the inside of his jacket and handed it to Terry. Terry took the bag, looked inside to check the contents and handed the weirdo an envelope containing money.

Watching the delivery man cycle off into the night, Terry got back inside his car and started the engine. Hopefully, by this time next week, that vile little shit who had stolen his family from him would finally have paid for his sins.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The following morning Eddie told Stuart and Raymond to go and do the collections alone. The loan-sharking business was booming and Ed had now split the collections into two separate areas. Gary and Ricky covered the East End, where the majority of their business was done, and Ed, Raymond and Stuart covered Essex and any other surrounding areas. Ed had always left south, west and north London alone. Each area had its own firm that carved a crust the same way that he did and stepping on someone else’s toes just wasn’t worth the agg.

When Gina walked into the lounge, freshly showered in a bathrobe, Ed pulled her towards him.

‘So why have you taken today off?’ Gina asked. Ed had been through a traumatic time recently and Gina just wished she could do more to help him.

‘If I tell ya, I’ll have to kill ya,’ Ed said chuckling. Since Stuart had come out of the nick it was unusual for Ed and Gina to have the place to themselves.

‘Is that a gun in your pocket, Mr Mitchell?’ Gina said laughing, as he pushed his erection against her.

Eddie slipped off her bathrobe and made love to her on the shagpile carpet. He’d set the ball rolling late last night and, unbeknown to Gina, he’d taken the day off work to organise the surprise of her life.

‘So, where are you going today? You’re not normally this secretive,’ Gina said, teasing him.

Eddie grinned. With everything that had happened recently, he’d needed to do something to cheer himself up and the idea had popped into his head as he’d driven away from Joanie’s yesterday. He stood up, got dressed and winked at her. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out, sweetheart.’

Larry Peters was sitting in Snaresbrook Crown Court. He was here to represent an accountant who had been charged with fraud, but he couldn’t concentrate on the case, as he knew he had done something very wrong. Client confidentiality was everything in Larry’s world, but not to tell Eddie what Frankie had told him was an extremely bad move. DI Blyth was visiting Frankie today in Holloway and if Eddie found out that Larry had known about the visit all along, Ed would probably string him up by the bollocks.

Sweating like a pig at the thought of Ed finding out about his misdemeanour, Larry stood up and turned to the judge. ‘Could you please excuse me, your honour? I am in desperate need to use the lavatory.’

Outside the courtroom, Larry punched in Eddie’s number. Unfortunately for him, Ed’s phone was switched off.

Pat and Stanley were poring over the latest pigeon magazine. Spring would be approaching soon and they were looking for a top-class cock to breed with Mildred.

‘It’s a shame Georgie’s squabs didn’t turn out as expected,’ Pat said remorsefully.

Stanley nodded. Pat had given him one of Georgie’s offspring and he’d seen ducks fly faster than the bastard thing. Pat threw the magazine to one side and snuggled up to Stanley.

‘I think we should pay that George Chalkley a visit. That cock he races is a bloody world-beater and I’m sure Mildred would produce fine squabs from him. What’s the name of his cock, Stanley? It’s on the tip of me tongue, but I can’t remember it.’

When Pat’s hand moved towards his cock, Stanley lost his memory also. He loved living with Pat, they had so much in common, but her sexual urges had started to drive him beserk. Since he’d been sharing the same bed as Pat, she’d tried to initiate sex with him virtually every night and the problem was that Stanley was unable to stand to attention. Nothing would happen whatsoever when she touched him in that area and the more she tried to fondle his John Thomas, the more embarrassed he became. Stanley grabbed Pat’s hand, moved it away from his private parts and held it against his chest.

‘I’m sorry love, but it won’t work, you know it won’t work.’

Pat chuckled naughtily. She had a special surprise planned for Stanley tonight and that, she was sure, would get his engine running again.

‘Shall we have a can of bitter now, love?’ Stanley asked chirpily.

Pat stood up. ‘No, we’re not drinking today, so I’ll make us a nice pot of tea instead.’

‘Why can’t we have a proper drink?’ Stanley asked, perplexed.

‘Because that’s what’s causing your brewer’s droop. I’ve got a nice surprise for you tonight and if you drink beer you’re gonna spoil it.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Stanley mumbled as Pat walked out of the room. He then thought of Joycie and, for the first time since he’d left his wife, wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

Eddie felt strange as he sat down next to Joey on his old sofa in what used to be his and Jessica’s living room. The photographs on the wall had changed and Joyce had added her own plants and ornaments, but other than that it was like going back in time.

Joyce was out in the kitchen making a brew and Joey, being perceptive, kind of guessed what his father was thinking. ‘Are you OK, Dad?’ he asked kindly.

Eddie nodded and, as Joyce walked back into the room with a tea tray, he forced himself to stop thinking about Jessica. Picturing her pretty face standing by the fireplace felt like a dagger piercing his heart.

‘So, how’s life without Stanley? Are you coping OK, Joycie?’

Joyce sat on the armchair opposite Eddie. ‘I’d forgotten all about the old bastard, to be honest. It’s a pain in the arse getting cabs and buses sometimes, but other than that I don’t miss the old goat at all,’ Joyce lied. Putting on a brave face was the only way she could cope with Stanley’s departure. The winter nights were lonely and sometimes never ending, but Joyce would never admit that she missed Stanley, not even to herself.

‘What about money? If you ever need any dosh, all you gotta do is ask, girl,’ Eddie said genuinely. He’d always been generous to Joycie and, partly out of guilt, he’d even given her his house when Jessica had died.

‘I’m fine for money, but thanks all the same, Ed. When we sold our old house in Upney I used to beg Stanley to buy a flash car and stuff, but you know what an old miser he was. We virtually lived off our pensions and when the old fucker left, he never took any of our money with him. It was always in my bank account, you see.’

Eddie chuckled. Joycie had never failed to make him laugh when he was married to Jessica and she hadn’t changed one iota over the years.

‘So where’s Dominic today? Yous two ain’t split up, have you?’ Joyce asked her grandson suspiciously. Joey had rung her early this morning asking if he and Eddie could pop round, and she wasn’t stupid – something smelled fishy.

‘No, of course not. Dom’s visiting his nan. She’s very poorly and is in hospital at the moment with pneumonia. She has no idea Dom’s gay and keeps asking him when he’s gonna settle down with a nice girl and get married,’ Joey replied.

Eddie chuckled. ‘The poor old cow’s got a long wait, bless her.’

‘How’s Frankie? I haven’t heard a dickie from her since the children’s court case. Terrible news about them little ’uns, weren’t it? Why weren’t they allowed to visit her in prison?’ Joycie asked.

Joey glanced at his father. ‘Go on, tell Nan the truth,’ he urged. Joey had been furious when he’d heard the outcome of the court case. He’d wanted to attend, but hadn’t been allowed to, as Jed’s brief had stuck his oar in, saying it would upset the children to see him.

‘The pikeys have brainwashed them kids, Joycie. Both Georgie and Harry sat in the court and told the judge they didn’t want to see Frankie, apparently,’ Eddie told her.

Joyce sat with her mouth open. ‘No, I don’t believe it! Christ, it was only just before Christmas that they turned up here in bits looking for her.’

‘If you speak to Frankie, for Christ’s sake don’t tell her what the kids said, will ya? Knowing that will break her fucking heart,’ Eddie said.

Joyce nodded. ‘So, how is Frankie doing in that prison? I’d like to visit her if that’s OK. Have either of yous two been up there lately?’

‘I’m seeing her tomorrow. Dom was coming with me but because of what happened with the court case, I’m gonna go in alone and he’s gonna wait in a nearby pub,’ Joey said.

‘She ain’t talking to me still, but I’m gonna have a word with Larry, see if he can sort out a visit for me. Then again, you know how stubborn our Frankie is, she’s bound to tell me to take a running jump,’ Eddie added.

Joyce chuckled. Frankie was her father’s double, whereas Joey was much more like Jessica.

‘You got your phone switched on, Dad? It ain’t ’arf been quiet today,’ Joey asked.

Eddie checked his mobile. It had rung while he was making love to Gina earlier and he’d switched it off and forgot to turn the bloody thing back on.

‘So, is that the only reason you came to see me today to tell me what the children said at the court case?’ Joyce asked sceptically.

‘No, I’ve got something else to tell you,’ Ed replied, looking a bit sheepish.

‘I thought so. Come on, spill the beans,’ Joyce exclaimed knowingly.

About to disclose the true nature of his visit, Eddie was disturbed by his phone ringing.

‘Go on, you’d better answer that, it might be important,’ Joyce said. She had a feeling she knew what Ed was going to tell her, and if he answered the phone it would give her an extra couple of minutes to get her head around it.

Eddie’s face turned an angry shade of red as he listened to what the caller had to say. ‘So why didn’t you tell me all this fucking yesterday, then?’ he screamed into the handset.

Joey glanced at his nan. So much crap had happened to their family recently, surely another disaster wasn’t on the horizon.

* * *

DI Blyth sat in the visiting room waiting for Frankie to be brought in, and thought about the last conversation she had had with the girl. She could even remember Frankie’s exact words at the end of it.

‘The only thing I can tell you is Jed is a traitor. The rest is a secret and for my dad’s and my children’s sake, that’s the way it will have to stay,’ Frankie had stated.

Blyth would never forget the haunted look in Frankie’s eyes that day. Alarm bells had rang in Blyth’s mind and she knew whatever secret Frankie was carrying was enormous and would one day become a lead weight inside the girl’s mind.

As the door opened, Blyth looked up and smiled. ‘Hello Frankie. My, you look blooming. How many weeks until baby is born?’

Blyth had been prepared for Frankie to be agitated, nervous, perhaps even tearful; what she hadn’t expected was for her to stroll into the room and sit opposite her full of anger and insolence.

‘Cut the crap and let’s just get on with it, shall we? I’ve asked you here to tell you the truth, but I’m not saying nothing in front of her,’ Frankie spat, nodding in the direction of the screw standing by the door.

‘Could you leave Miss Mitchell and myself alone, please?’ Blyth asked the prison officer politely.

‘I was told to stay inside the room,’ the officer replied.

Blyth stood up. While Frankie was in this mood there was much more chance of getting the absolute truth out of her and she wasn’t going to allow some jumped-up screw mess that up.

‘Just get out! I’m a detective inspector and I need to speak to Miss Mitchell alone,’ she screamed.

As the prison officer scuttled out of the room, Blyth turned to Frankie. Every police officer in the country had their own way of dealing with situations like this and Blyth had always found that if you behaved in the same manner as whoever you were dealing with, it worked wonders.

‘I haven’t got all day, so spit it out,’ she said abruptly.

‘Where do you want me to start?’ Frankie asked.

‘Why don’t we start by you telling me why you kept calling Jed a traitor when I last interviewed you and, while we’re at it, what was the big secret that you couldn’t disclose for the sake of your dad and children?’ Blyth asked in a sharp tone.

Shocked by Blyth’s manner, Frankie felt her lip begin to tremble. Perhaps the DI still had the hump with her because she hadn’t grassed her father up in court when he was up for murdering her mother.

Noticing that Frankie’s hands were shaking, Blyth leaned forward and clasped her own around them. ‘Tell me Frankie, please tell me,’ she pleaded in a much gentler tone.

Frankie looked up. The hard exterior she’d used as a front for the past few days suddenly evaporated into thin air. ‘If I tell you, I want you to promise me that you’ll never tell my dad.’

‘I promise,’ Blyth said sincerely. She suddenly had an awful feeling that Frankie was about to tell her that Jed had sexually abused Georgie. ‘Is it Georgie? Did Jed touch her?’ Blyth asked softly.

‘No, it’s my grandad.’

‘What do you mean, Frankie? What has your grandad got to do with all this? You are talking about your grandad Harry, aren’t you?’

With tears streaming down her face, Frankie nodded. ‘It was Jed, he was the one that killed my grandad Harry.’

In all her years in the police force, Blyth had been the receiver of many a shock. She’d worked on the cases of the pleasant vicar who had committed bigamy ten times, the respected female school teacher who had been involved in a nationwide paedophile ring and also the sweet twelve-year-old girl who had knifed both her parents to death and had then blamed burglars, but never, ever had Blyth been more gobsmacked than hearing what Frankie had just said.