Bad Girl (32 page)

Frank drove with a casual disregard for the Highway Code, his left hand sitting lightly on the wheel, his right elbow jutting out of the open window, speeding along the quiet Sunday streets as if Dagenham might disappear if he didn’t get there within the next half-hour.

‘What’s the hurry?’ Helen said.

‘No hurry.’

But he didn’t take the hint and slow down. And Helen, not wanting to be a back-seat driver, had to be content with gritting her teeth and hoping for the best. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, studying the left-hand side of his face, the curve of his jaw and the sharply defined cheekbone. His eyes, although she knew they were grey, were shielded by the aviator shades. She wanted to know what made him tick, who the real Frank Meyer was, but he was a man who didn’t willingly give much away.

It was about ten past eleven when they got to Dagenham. Despite the sunshine, it seemed a grey sort of place, neglected and run down. Helen was reminded of Kellston; it had a similar air of despondency about it. ‘So where was it, the shop?’

‘Broad Street. We’re almost there.’

‘And what’s it called?’

‘Leigh’s,’ he said. ‘At least it used to be.’

A few minutes later, Frank pulled up beside a neat row of shops. There was a chemist, a butcher’s, a toy store and a newsagent. He stared out of the window with a resigned expression on his face. ‘You see,’ he said, slapping his palms lightly against the wheel. ‘He’s well gone.’

‘Which one was it?’

‘That one. The toy store. Except it was electricals back then.’

Helen looked over at the bright red sign:
Gibson’s Toys.
The window was full of teddy bears, Barbies, train sets and Corgi cars. ‘Maybe he’s branched out.’

‘Yeah, I bet he has. All the way to the Caribbean.’

Helen was starting to regret ever having suggested the idea. Perhaps she should have let things lie. Frank had already convinced himself that he’d lost everything – and accepted it – before she’d butted in and insisted on coming here. Still, it would be stupid to leave without even trying to find out where Alfie had gone. She opened the car door and got out.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

She bent down to answer him. ‘I’m going to take a look.’

‘What for? It’s closed. It’s Sunday.’

‘Well, what do people do on Sundays?’

Frank gazed back at her. ‘I don’t know. Stay in bed, go to church, make pointless journeys to Dagenham?’

‘Ha ha,’ she said. ‘How about stocktaking? There could be someone in the back.’ She walked over to the door and peered through at the Aladdin’s cave within. For a second, with her nose pressed hard against the glass, she felt like a little kid again. She rapped on the door, but nobody answered. She tried again, harder this time, but there was still no response. Frank came up behind, leaned over her shoulder and looked inside. She was aware of the closeness of him, of his body almost touching hers. Had it been any other man, she would have shied away, but with him she didn’t feel the need. ‘Just don’t say I told you so,’ she murmured.

‘Ah, it was worth a punt.’

She turned to look up at him. ‘How can you be so calm about it?’

Frank gave a shrug. ‘What’s the point of getting stressed? It won’t change anything.’ He started heading back towards the Fiesta. ‘Come on, let’s go find someplace to have a coffee.’

Helen was about to follow when she had another idea. Instead, she started walking towards the newsagent’s. ‘Hang on. Just a minute.’ Inside the shop, a middle-aged man with a slight paunch – too much temptation from the chocolate selection perhaps – was standing idle behind the counter. She said hello, smiled nicely and bought a pack of cigarettes, even though she didn’t want them. As she was paying, Frank came in and stood beside her.

‘I thought you were giving up,’ he said.

‘I am… soon.’ She put the cigarettes in her pocket. Just as she was about to leave, she stopped and said casually to the newsagent, ‘Oh, I don’t suppose you know Mr Leigh, do you? The guy who used to run the electrical shop?’

It was a shot in the dark, but one that paid off. ‘You mean Marty?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Frank interrupted. ‘Marty. You any idea where he’s gone?’

The man looked up at Frank, alerted perhaps by something hard and edgy in his tone. Frank’s sheer size often intimidated people, and Helen could see suspicion passing over the newsagent’s face. If they weren’t careful, he would clam up and tell them nothing. Quickly she tried to rectify the situation.

‘Frank’s an old mate of Marty’s. They used to go to school together.’ She gave him a subtle nudge with her elbow. ‘Didn’t you, love?’

There was a pause before Frank said, ‘Yeah, that’s right. Me and Marty go way back.’

‘Only we’ve been away,’ she continued chattily. ‘In Scotland for a few years. It’s awful how you lose touch with people, isn’t it? We were just passing by and noticed that the shop had changed hands. We were hoping to track him down, have a catch-up, you know, but… I don’t suppose you’ve any idea where we could find him?’

The man seemed to soften a little, although he threw another wary glance towards Frank. ‘Moved, didn’t he,’ he said, stating the obvious.

Helen waited patiently, not pressing him, careful not to appear too keen. She was suddenly reminded of those nights in Soho, of the tentative punters who would pause for a few seconds after listening to her spiel, wanting to believe her but not quite sure if they should. Instinctively, she did what she had always done then – provided her most seductive smile and waited for the pay-off.

‘Well,’ the man said, ‘don’t suppose it’s a secret or nothing. Sold the old place, didn’t he? Personally, I reckon that was down to
her
. She never liked it much round here.’

‘No,’ Helen agreed, taking another chance. ‘You could be right. She was always saying that to me. I never got it myself, but there’s no pleasing some people.’

‘You’re not wrong there. I mean, it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I’ve been trading here for going on thirty years now.’

‘Thirty years?’ Helen repeated. ‘That’s amazing. Still, I’m not surprised.’ She glanced around the shop with an expression that she hoped relayed a suitable sense of respect and admiration.

He nodded, clearly gratified by the response. ‘So, you want to know where old Marty’s gone?’

‘We would,’ she said. ‘It’d be great to see him again. We’re only in town for a few weeks, and so…’

‘Now let me see,’ he said, stroking his chin. ‘It was over Angel way if I remember rightly.’ He paused and frowned. ‘Or was it?’

Helen felt Frank shift impatiently beside her, but he had the sense to keep his mouth shut and wait.

‘Now hang on, it’s been a few years. Let me see. Yes, I think it was the Holloway Road. Yes, I’m pretty sure it was that way.
She
was keen on Holloway, I remember that.’ He paused. ‘Yes, somewhere in that direction.’

‘Thank you,’ Helen said. ‘We’ll try there, see if we can find him. Thanks for your help.’

‘That’s all right. Pass on my best if you see him. Tell him Barry said hello.’

‘Barry,’ Helen repeated dutifully. ‘We will. Thanks again.’

The two of them walked out of the shop, saying nothing until they were back inside the Fiesta.

‘Christ, Mouse,’ Frank said, grinning. ‘How did you get to be so devious?’

‘I have
no
idea what you mean. I’m not devious. I just did what any normal person would do if they were looking for an old friend.’

Frank raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I always said you were smart.’

‘I can’t be that smart,’ she said. ‘If I was, I wouldn’t be letting you drive this car.’

Frank laughed and turned on the ignition. ‘Fancy a trip to Holloway?’

They had been searching for half an hour and had made two circuits of the area, including Holloway Road, Canonbury Road, Liverpool Road and Essex Road, before they finally hit the jackpot on Upper Street, not far from Angel tube. The wide double-fronted shop stood between a record store and a greengrocer’s and had the name
Leigh’s
emblazoned in gold across the top.

‘There!’ Helen said, pointing. ‘Over there, to the left.’

Frank turned his head to look, almost running into the car in front as the traffic lights switched to red. He managed to brake just in time, but the driver of the Vauxhall was less than impressed. He honked his horn, wound down his window and gave Frank the finger.

‘What’s wrong with the geezer? I stopped, didn’t I?’

‘Ignore him,’ Helen said. ‘He’s just jealous of your cool shades.’

‘You could be right. I do look particularly handsome in them.’

Helen gave a snort and looked over at the shop again. The window display contained just about anything electrical the modern home could want, including cookers, fridges, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, kettles, irons, televisions, record players, radios and hairdryers. ‘That has to be it, doesn’t it?’

‘Yeah, though it doesn’t mean that Alfie’s still running it. He could have sold it on to someone else.’

‘Wouldn’t they have changed the name?’

Frank gave a shrug, perhaps not wanting to get his hopes up again. ‘I just don’t get it,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn’t he have finished what we started? It’s been years. All he had to do was organise a closing-down sale and then scarper with the cash.’

‘Maybe he scarpered over here.’

‘No,’ Frank said. ‘If this is his shop, then he’s still trading under the same name. He couldn’t be doing that if he’d pulled the rug out from under the creditors.’

‘
Cherchez la femme
,’ Helen said.

‘Huh?’

‘Didn’t you hear what Barry said:
She never liked it much round here.
Maybe Alfie had another reason for staying put.’

Frank pulled a face, as if the idea of Alfie Blunt choosing a woman over a fast buck was about as likely as a rank outsider romping home at Kempton Park. ‘You reckon?’

They drove around for a while until they found somewhere to park, and then walked back to the shop. It was closed, of course, but they peered in through the window just like they’d done at the toy store. Helen rapped on the glass, but nobody responded.

Frank put his hands in his pockets. ‘Not to worry. I’ll come back tomorrow.’

Helen reversed a few steps and peered up at the windows on the first floor. ‘There’s a flat upstairs. Maybe it belongs to the shop. The tenant might have a phone number for him.’

‘Worth a go, I guess.’

They went to the door at the side of the shop and Helen rang the bell. There was too much traffic for them to hear the sound of footsteps from inside, but thirty seconds later the door was pulled open and they were face to face with a short, wiry man with a freckled complexion and a shock of red hair. As he looked at his visitors, his expression turned from mild curiosity to one of astonishment. ‘Frank!’

Frank took off his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. ‘Hello, Alfie. Long time no see.’

Alfie Blunt still had his mouth hanging open, gazing up at Frank as if he’d just seen a ghost.

Frank gave him a hard-edged kind of smile. ‘So, Alfie. I think you and me need a little chat.’

‘It’s Martin,’ he hissed, glancing anxiously back over his shoulder. ‘What are you… I didn’t realise… I didn’t…’

‘Marty?’ called a woman’s voice from the top of the stairs. ‘Who is it? Who’s there?’

‘It’s nothing, love. It’s just a rep.’ He quickly pulled the open door ajar so she couldn’t see his visitors.

‘What? On a Sunday?’

‘I won’t be a minute,’ Alfie yelled back, before returning his attention to Frank and Helen. ‘You’ve got to go,’ he urged, flapping his hands as if he was driving away a pair of unruly beggars. ‘I’ll meet you in the Black Lion. It’s round the corner from the tube. Ten minutes, yeah?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Frank said. ‘I’m not moving one fucking inch from here until you give me what I’m owed.’

‘You’ll have your money, I swear. But you have to go now.’

‘And let you do a bunk?’ Frank said. ‘I don’t think so. You could be out of here and—’

‘I won’t, okay? I’ve got a wife and kid. Where am I going to go? I’ll be there. I swear I will.’

Frank looked dubious, but Helen nudged his elbow. ‘Come on, it’ll be fine.’

Alfie gave her a nod and then dashed back inside, closing the door smartly behind him.

Frank glared hard at the door before turning to Helen. ‘The minute we walk away, he could clear off. All he needs to do is pack a bag and—’

‘And what? He’s got a business here, and a pretty good one by the looks of it. He’s hardly going to abandon that. Or his wife and kid. He’ll turn up. You can be sure of it. He won’t want you bashing on his door again in half an hour.’

Frank raked his fingers through his hair and glanced up the windows to the flat. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’

‘A fiver says I am.’

‘Fighting talk. Okay, you’re on.’

‘Right, let’s find that pub.’

The Black Lion was exactly where Alfie Blunt had said it would be, round the corner from Angel tube station. Frank ordered a pint and Helen had an orange juice. Although her headache had receded, she couldn’t quite face the prospect of more alcohol.

They took their drinks to a quiet corner of the pub and settled in to wait. Frank lit a cigarette, then sat back and laughed. ‘Jesus, did you see the look on him when he spotted me? I thought he was going to have a heart attack.’

‘Well, maybe it’s a shock, you turning up like this.’

‘Maybe? What do you mean by
maybe
?’

‘I don’t know. He hasn’t made much effort to prevent you finding him, has he? He’s even kept the name of the shop.’

‘There is such a thing as sheer stupidity.’

Helen took a sip of her orange juice. ‘So what are you saying exactly? That you choose to do business with stupid people?’

Frank, who was in the process of lifting his pint to his lips, promptly put it down again. He gazed at Helen and grinned. ‘There’s no good answer to that one, is there?’

Fifteen minutes passed and there was still no sign of Alfie Blunt. Helen was starting to wonder if she’d just thrown a fiver down the drain when he suddenly came hurrying into the pub, out of breath, red-faced and apologetic.

‘Sorry, sorry… the missus… Margaret… I had to…’ He plumped himself down on a chair and took a few seconds to catch his breath. ‘Well, it’s good to see you again, Frank. How have you been doing?’

‘Just fine,’ Frank said. ‘But much better now that I’ve found you.’

‘I weren’t hiding anywhere, mate. I didn’t want to get in touch, send a letter or nothing. I know those screws read everything. I reckoned you’d find me soon enough once you got out.’

‘You reckoned right.’

‘Look, would you two like some privacy?’ Helen asked. ‘I can go and sit somewhere else for a while if you want to talk.’

‘No, stay where you are,’ Frank said. ‘You know all about it anyway. I’m sure Alfie here doesn’t mind.’

‘Martin,’ Alfie insisted again, keeping his voice low. ‘Call me Martin or Marty. Alfie’s dead and gone. He don’t exist no more.’

‘Okay,
Marty
, why don’t you get me up to speed with what’s been going on?’

Alfie had a quick glance round, making sure that none of the other customers were earwigging, before shifting his chair even closer to the table and leaning forward. ‘It’s like this, right. We was all geared for the sale – you know, like we planned and all – and then you and Tommy… well, I weren’t sure what to do after that, and so I just kept trading, thinking you might get a message to me or something. But I didn’t hear nothin’ and the shop began to do well, and so…’

‘So you just carried on?’

‘Seemed like the smartest thing to do. I wouldn’t screw you over, Frank, not you and Tommy. We’re a team, ain’t we? I reckoned I’d just wait until you got out, and then…’

‘You saying it never crossed your mind?’ Frank asked. ‘You could have gone ahead and scarpered with the cash.’

Alfie grinned at him. ‘I ain’t saying it didn’t cross me mind. I wouldn’t be human, would I? Course I thought about it for a moment. But that’s all it were, just a passing thought. There’s three shops now, Frank. It’s a good little business. Plenty of profit.’

‘Good,’ Frank said. ‘You won’t have any problems raising credit, then. We can get things back on track, go ahead with the closing-down sales and—’

Alfie gave a few rapid shakes of his head. ‘I can’t do that, Frank. How would I explain it to the missus? She ain’t gonna want to leave here. She’s got family down the road. And she don’t know about… she don’t know nothin’ about Alfie Blunt. So far as she’s concerned, I’m straight as a die.’

Frank made a light growling noise in the back of his throat. ‘Your family situation doesn’t interest me, mate. All I want is my money.’

‘Look, just hear me out, okay?’ Alfie wriggled in his chair, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. ‘There’s options, right? We could sell one of the shops, maybe even two of them, raise some cash that way. Or you and Tommy, you could just take a share of the monthly profits, use them to start something new. I’ve put some readies aside, Frank. I can get them for you soon.’ He reached into his inside pocket and took out an envelope. After another quick glance around the pub, he slid it across the table. ‘There’s a ton here. It’s all I can get for now, but I’ll go to the bank first thing tomorrow.’

Frank slid the envelope into his own pocket and stared at Alfie. ‘How much are we talking about?’

‘A few grand, but like I said, we can think about flogging off the other shops. You can look through the books, decide what you want to do. But these shops, they’re good little earners. Everyone wants electricals. Long-term, we could make a mint.’

Helen looked across at Frank, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Frank sat back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘And what if I don’t like any of your options?’

‘Aw, Frank, give us a break. I could have screwed you over but I didn’t. I’ve spent the last seven years working like a dog. There’s a decent business here, all above board and no hassle from the law.’ Alfie looked at his watch. ‘Why don’t you go away and have a think about it, come over and see me tomorrow?’

Frank gave a nod. ‘I’ll do that.’

Alfie scraped back his chair. He looked at Helen and said, ‘Nice to meet you, love.’ Then he put out his hand to Frank. ‘Tomorrow, then.’

They shook hands and Alfie hurried away.

Frank and Helen finished their drinks and left the pub. ‘So what do you think?’ she asked as they got back into the car.

Frank switched on the ignition and pulled away from the kerb before he answered. ‘I’m not sure what to think right now. I’ll take a look at the books tomorrow, but I guess I’ll have to wait for Tommy to get out before making any final decisions.’

‘It’s funny really, isn’t it?’

‘Funny?’

Helen smiled at him. ‘You’ve just done seven years inside and you’ve come out a legitimate businessman with a share in three profitable shops.’

The corners of his mouth curled up. ‘Legitimate, huh? Well, that’s certainly a first.’

‘Oh, and you owe me a fiver.’

‘And here was me hoping that might have slipped your mind.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘So you expect Alfie Blunt to pay his dues but you’re not so keen when it comes to your own debts?’

Frank laughed, took the envelope out of his pocket and threw it on to her lap. ‘Here, take it out of there.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said, handing it back. ‘You can buy a takeaway tonight instead. I fancy a Chinese.’

‘Chinese it is.’

They were approaching Camden when Helen noticed that Frank kept glancing in the rear-view mirror. ‘What is it?’ she asked, turning to look over her shoulder at the traffic behind.

‘I’m not sure, but I think we may have a tail. There’s a red Audi that’s been with us since Islington. Could just be travelling in the same direction, but I reckon I saw it earlier, too.’

‘Where is it?’

‘About four cars back, behind the black cab.’

She kept on looking, but couldn’t get a clear view. ‘No, I can’t see it properly.’

Frank flipped on his indicator. ‘Right, let’s take the scenic route and see if he stays with us.’

They cut up into Kentish Town, went as far as the tube station and then swung a right and started to wind around the back streets, away from the main stream of traffic. The red car followed them, keeping its distance.

‘Not much doubt about that, then,’ Frank said. ‘I’m going to pull in by that bus stop down there. Try and get a look at his face as he goes past.’

As he flipped on the indicator, Helen leaned forward. The red Audi slowed a little as the driver realised what was happening and then accelerated again, speeding past them so quickly that she only caught a glimpse.

‘Mid thirties,’ she said. ‘Short brown hair, wearing sunglasses. Sorry, that’s about it.’

Frank left the engine idling while he lit a cigarette. ‘Now who the hell would want to be following us around?’

‘It’s creepy,’ Helen said, shivering a little. ‘Do you think it’s to do with my visit to see Lazenby?’

‘Hard to say. Have you talked to anyone else about Eddie Chapelle?’

Helen shook her head. ‘Only you. You think this is down to him?’

‘Could be.’

‘But Tony Lazenby’s the only person who knows about Chapelle’s connection to my mum. At least, he’s the only person who knows that I’m trying to find out about her murder.’

‘Yeah,’ Frank said, pulling hard on the cigarette. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life, it’s never to trust a copper.’

‘But why would he…? I don’t get it. I don’t understand.’

Frank gave her a sideways glance. ‘Just be careful, okay? Don’t get anywhere on your own for a while.’

‘What? You think that—’