Blood Sister: A thrilling and gritty crime drama (27 page)

Tiffany said nothing, so Babs carried on (it was her right as a mother): ‘My girl, banged up? I still can’t believe it. The shame of it. I’d never have been able to show my face again on the estate if people had found out. And don’t forget you’ve still got to go up before a judge.’ Suddenly, a horrifying thought struck her. ‘They didn’t touch you in that cell did they? You know, slap you around?’

Tiffany tutted. ‘Come off it, Mum.’

‘Well, you never know these days. You hear all kind of stories about what happens behind the walls of a nick. In my day you knew where you stood; they’d just give you a kicking in public.’

‘Talking about kicking, Mum, you really laid into that Mel Ingram.’ Jen sniggered. ‘You caught her a good one in the face.’

Tiffany giggled. ‘When you took her down, she went crashing like a crate of lard.’

‘Mum, you should’ve seen that cop’s face when you went all Genghis Khan on him.’ Jen was clutching her belly now she was laughing so hard. ‘I thought he was going to keel over.’

Babs’ gaze switched between her two daughters. ‘I don’t see what’s so funny. She had it coming for years, that one.’

They all looked at each other and fell about pissing with laughter. It was good to see her daughters happy again. Jen was definitely stepping out with that Nuts, and Tiffany . . .

‘Tiff honey,’ Babs said, ‘promise me you’ll never go down that cemetery again.’

Her youngest smiled, just like she had when she was a little nipper. ‘After this, Mum, you won’t catch me there again.’

John was still trembling when he got to the Alley Club later that evening. He couldn’t shake off what had gone on in the last two hours. He just couldn’t believe what he’d heard and what he’d done.

‘We’re unofficially engaged,’ he heard Dee saying to one of the girls who worked behind the bar. ‘We don’t want it spread about, so keep it under your hat.’

‘Dee,’ he called. She twisted around and her eyes widened when she saw him. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

‘Did you find—?’

‘I said, let’s take it upstairs.’ His tone was hard, which told Dee straight that he wasn’t in the mood for any muck around.

John hit the bottle as soon as the door to his office was shut behind them. He knocked the whiskey back in one swallow. ‘I know exactly how the police tumbled the car operation.’ The expression on his face chilled her to the bone. ‘I’ve been making some enquiries.’ He paused again. ‘I had a drink with a pal of mine in the police. He explained the whole shebang. I was grassed up – by someone I thought I could trust. Disappointing.’ He fixed Dee with what looked like a flinty and uncompromising stare.

One of Dee’s house rules was, never to be on the back foot. ‘And you’re going to take the word of a cop are you? Disappointing.’

‘No, I wouldn’t usually. But there’s supporting evidence. I got a phone call from Chris this morning . . .’
Here it comes
. Dee waited for the blow to fall as John carried on. ‘He talked his way out of it down in Tilbury and he’s been released on bail. Mickey Ingram’s been booked but Chris hasn’t as yet. But Mickey won’t grass – he’s stupid, but he’s no snitch. Anyway, Chris wants to meet tonight to explain his theory about what happened.’

Dee didn’t flinch. ‘I’d better come too. I’ll be interested to hear what his theory is.’

‘I don’t think so . . .’ His gaze had turned from hard to homicidal.

‘Why not?’

John looked around as if he was searching for prying ears. ‘Because we won’t be seeing Chris again – not tonight, not ever. You know what I mean? I mean, look at the facts – there was the phone bug, he was the only person fully in the picture on the operation and then he gets released on
bail
,
despite being caught red-handed.
I mean, come on. He was probably planning to come wired for sound because the law have got nothing on me. I’m too clever. You won’t need to worry about Chris again.’

He didn’t mean . . . ?
But from the way he was flexing his hands, she knew he did. She hadn’t meant it to come to this. Dee felt bad about Chris, but there was nothing she could do now. Bloody hell, what was going to happen to his orphaned son, Nicky? But she couldn’t think about that now, she still needed to make sure John was steered in the right direction for the future.

‘I’m afraid you’ve not been clever enough, John. A man like you shouldn’t be in the ‘‘ICE’’ bizz. You might as well run a pickpocketing scam. You should be importing real stuff. You get me? That’s where the money is.’

He shook his head. ‘You need big money to invest in that, and contacts. I don’t have them.’

The phone from reception rang. Dee ignored it. ‘This club is full of people with money to invest and people who can arrange introductions. Just leave everything to me.’ She picked up the phone and took the call. Quickly she covered the phone and with urgency warned him, ‘I think it’s the law again.’ She chucked him a spare set of keys to her flat. ‘Go over the roof and I’ll take care of whoever’s downstairs.’

Thirty-Six

It wasn’t the law. Dee already knew that it was someone far more dangerous downstairs. She spotted Trish as soon as she got to the clubroom, but made sure she remained hidden in the shadows so the other woman couldn’t see her. Her hands tightened around the instant camera she held. She caught the eye of a member of security and beckoned him over.

‘John wants Trish to meet him out back.’ She leaned over and whispered the rest of the instruction in his ear. He didn’t ask any questions; he knew better than to challenge Mizz Dee.

As soon as he was gone, Dee put the camera into her pocket and made her way quickly to the back and went outside. The back of the club was really an alleyway where the deliveries were made and the rubbish put out. Dee walked a few paces forwards, concealing herself once again in the shadows. Her face became grim when she heard the door open and soon Trish came outside, hugging her fur-lined jacket around her against the cold.

‘John?’ she called out.

She jumped when the metal door clanged shut behind her (thanks to the security guy following Dee’s instructions). ‘John?’

Dee waltzed into the moonlight. ‘No, Trish, not lover boy John I’m afraid, but your worst nightmare.’

Trish went pale and was visibly startled. ‘I never said anything about you to John. I swear on my mother’s life.’

‘I told you loud and clear to use the exit sign on your way out of John’s life and to never look back.’ Dee rolled her sleeves up. ‘You can’t say you weren’t told.’

The other woman backed away as Dee moved slowly forward. Trish twisted around and started banging against the closed door. ‘Help, someone help me.’

‘Not even God can help you now, Trish.’

Dee grabbed the other woman’s arm and started dragging Trish further into the alley. John’s girlfriend yelled and struggled all the way, losing one of her mile-high stiletto heels along the way. Dee shoved her against the wall near a large, grey metallic bin. Dee easily held the squirming woman with one hand as she tossed the lid of the bin onto the floor. Inside was a bulging black bin liner filled with rubbish, but there was plenty of space left inside.

‘Noooo,’ Trish begged as she cottoned on to what Dee planned to do. But Dee ignored her as she gripped the woman by the lapels of her flash coat and tipped her head first into the bin. Trish let out a muffled cry as her face and upper body toppled sideways and squashed down against the black bag leaving her legs stuck out in the air. Dee ruthlessly jammed them in after her, grabbed the lid and slammed it down on the bin. Then she sat down on top of it and started swinging her legs like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Trish beat against the inside of the bin, sobbing. In between her cries she pleaded, ‘I can’t breathe, can’t breathe—’

‘Trish girl I want you to imagine,’ Dee began calmly, ‘a life without spray-on tan. A life without dosh for a new boob job. A life without tottering down The Roman to get your knock-off bottle of Charlie. That’s what you’re going to leave behind if you keep sniffing around John, because I’m going to make it my business to see you end-up, arse first in the gutter.’

‘Pleeeeze, just let me out.’

‘The only way you’re drawing pure air again is if you promise to leave John alone. He don’t even like your skank self, he’s only using you as his spunk pump machine.’

‘I’ll leave him alone, I’ll leave him alone, I promise.’

‘Cross your heart?’ Dee was having fun now.

‘Cross my heart.’

Dee knew she should let the interfering bitch out before the stupid cow went and suffocated on her. She hopped off the bin and pulled the lid away.

‘Smile,’ Dee said. Snap. Flash. With the camera she took a picture of the defeated woman looking crumpled inside the bin, dirty with mascara running rivers of black down her face.

‘You tangle with me again and I’m going to make copies of this, enlarge them and post them all over town.’

A frantic and terrified Trish stood on shaky legs and rapidly sucked air into her body. Dee stepped back and Trish got out of the bin and then she ran for her life. Dee noticed her stiletto still on the ground. She picked it up and, with a huge grin, dumped it inside the bin.

Tiffany broke her promise to her mum and jumped the wall at the back of the cemetery so that she didn’t have to see her mates on the way in. She didn’t want it to get back to her newly appointed social worker that she was prowling around her old haunt, and she didn’t need anyone to know about whom she was meeting. Quickly she made her way to the tomb with the angel where her contact was already waiting for her.

‘You done good, girl,’ the black woman told her. Tiffany suspected her name wasn’t Laverne, but she’d already decided that the less she knew about her one-time partner in crime, the better. As soon as Laverne had called her yesterday from the Bad Moon and said, ‘Get your skates on, it’s time to rock ’n’ roll . . .’ Tiffany had swung into action on their plan.

‘I’m proud of the way you handled yourself, telling the cops all about Mickey Ingram and Chris.’

Tiffany sat down beside her on the cold stone. ‘I only said that I heard this Chris bloke’s name but didn’t know him.’

‘Don’t worry, babe, that was more than enough.’

Tiffany still worried about who this Chris was. What if he was some big time Face and came gunning for her? Whatever Laverne’s reasons for fitting him up, one thing was very clear – she’d wanted to keep John Black well out of it. That’s why Tiffany had told the two cops that John Black knew nothing about the job – that, in fact, he had been made to look a fall guy.

As if reading her mind, Laverne said, ‘Don’t bother yourself about Chris. He ain’t going to touch you in a month of Sundays. All you need to think about is that Mickey Ingram won’t be around to wallop your mate anymore.’

That’s the only reason Tiffany had gone along with Laverne’s plan – to make sure Mickey was out of Stacy’s life. She hoped that when he was banged up, someone gave him the kicking of a lifetime.

‘Did you tip off Five-O about the car shipment?’ Tiffany couldn’t help asking. The only way her part of their plan would’ve worked was if Laverne had anonymously tipped the wink to The Bill about the car ring.

Laverne smiled. ‘Let’s just say that God helps those who help themselves.’

Tiffany realised that Laverne was never going to spell it out for her, but she knew she’d grassed up the car ring. Why she’d want to set this Chris up and keep John Black in the clear, she didn’t know. And she didn’t want to know.

Tiffany put on her sulky face. ‘I didn’t get off scot free though; I’ve got to go up before the judge next month.’

‘How come?’ Laverne looked puzzled.

Tiffany was embarrassed. ‘They caught me with a bit of leaf. It was my mate who I was with; it was hers.’

Laverne’s face turned pinched and nasty. ‘You stupid idiot. You could’ve made all our plans go up in smoke. And for what? Some wacky backy? All you had to do was play your part while I called the cops.’ She stared even harder at the young girl next to her. ‘You never heard that right. You need a lesson on priorities.’ She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow and shook her head. ‘I know you don’t probably want to hear this, but maybe the judge will give you a break that will set you up on the path of the straight and narrow for life.’

‘As if,’ the sixteen-year-old scoffed back.

Laverne stood up. ‘You look after yourself, kid. And your mum. Good mums are hard to come by.’ She started walking away, but stopped after a few steps and turned back around. ‘One more thing, babes, you ever see me, I don’t know you and you don’t know me.’

PART TWO: 2003

Ten Years Later

‘Sometimes you only get one chance to change your life.’

Thirty-Seven

‘I want you to draw a picture of how you see yourself in the future.’

Bloody hells bells, thought fifteen-year-old Nicky Black, resisting the urge to do a runner as he listened to his fuckwit counsellor. He wore a plain, fully-opened, chocolate brown shirt over a stark white T-shirt and loose khaki pants. His look was topped off with a black Fedora, which he wore at an angle to show off his heart-stopping good looks and hazel eyes. He knew he was a good-looking boy, taking after the birth mother he couldn’t remember, and he used it to his advantage any chance he got.

His counsellor was driving him doolally as they sat inside the room his mum called the ‘family room’ of the huge Essex house he lived in with his parents. But he had no choice in the matter, or his mum was going to do her nut, just like she’d gone ballistic when he’d got suspended from school. Thing is, she was mad with the school not him: ‘They just don’t know how to handle a boy like Nicholas,’ was what she told his dad, despite it being the third school he’d been slung out of. School was a fool’s game. He wanted to be rolling on the street with the high flyers, not the low rollers in his class. Except for Chad, of course. Chad might come from one of those high-end families, but he knew how to have fun with a bit of weed.