Payback (23 page)

‘I have no intention of calling it a day, Ahmed. But as you well know I was much more comfortable being a silent partner. This gives me the heebies, if you want to know the truth.’

‘You’ll soon get used to it. I did.’ He nodded at a fence up ahead. ‘We’ve arrived.’

Vinny got out of the car and followed his business partner into the yard. It appeared to be full to the brim of used tyres. ‘So who owns this gaff? I thought you said Richie had rented it.’

Ahmed had actually rented the yard off a pal, but he was not about to admit that to Vinny. ‘That’s right. Richie’s renting it off a guy who’s just been given a two-year stretch for fraud. He didn’t want to lose his business while he was away, so he’s letting Richie have it for fifty quid a week. This is perfect for us. There’s a salvage yard next door, so this place is crawling with vans and trucks in the daytime. I’ve told Richie that we’ll pay half towards the rent, and I’ve insisted we only do our pick-ups late afternoon, early evening. Vans and trucks are much more liable to get a tug late at night, and even though we’ll only be following our investment in a car, we don’t want any slip-ups, do we?’

Vinny had a nose around the yard, then a look around outside. ‘I feel much more at ease doing business here than at Richie’s flat.’

Ahmed grinned. ‘So, shall I call the first deal on? I was thinking Friday, if that’s OK with you?’

‘Yep, bring it on.’

Joanna Preston read Molly a bedtime story, kissed her daughter goodnight, then crept down the stairs. She’d decided that Nancy was right, and the quicker she broke the news to her mother, the better.

Dreading the conversation she was about to have, Joanna could feel her hands shaking as she picked up the phone.

‘Hello, love. How are you? Just this second put the phone down to your dad, I have. So excited about the prospect of coming home, he is. You had a chance to speak to Vinny yet?’

With her heart feeling like a lump of lead, Joanna explained the situation as gently as she could. ‘Mum, I’m really sorry, but there is no way Vinny will allow Dad to be part of Molly’s life at present. I’m hoping in time he might change his tune, but please don’t have a go at me. I feel like piggy in the middle as it is.’

‘The evil bastard! I knew it! If there was one person who was going to piss on your father’s homecoming parade, it was always going to be Vinny. I bet he’s told you that you’re not allowed to see your dad either, hasn’t he?’

Rather than admit her mother was right, Joanna turned the tables: ‘Mum, I know you hate Vinny, but you can hardly blame him for not wanting us all playing happy families. Have you forgotten the reason Dad got banged up in the first place? He tried to kill Vinny and ended up shooting his brother Roy instead. You expect Vinny to overlook that?’

‘Don’t be trying to twist this conversation around, young lady. I know, and deep down you know, that Vinny only made a play for you in the first place because of who your father was. I can see in your eyes that you’re not truly happy with him, and I bet now Vinny has what he wants, revenge and a beautiful daughter, he doesn’t come anywhere near you in the bedroom. Am I right? Or am I wrong?’

Unable to listen to any more home truths, a tearful Joanna slammed the phone down.

As soon as Mary left for her weekly game of bingo, Donald tapped on his son’s bedroom door. Christopher had been acting oddly for a while now, and Donald knew there was more to his son’s change of behaviour than Christopher was letting on.

Though still only twenty-three, Christopher considered himself to be more mature than most men his age. However, when his father started asking questions, he felt an overwhelming urge to throw himself into his arms, just like he had when he was a small child.

‘Whatever is it, son? Is it Olivia? Have you split up with her?’

Christopher shook his head. Ever since he had received the anonymous phone call, he had felt as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. It was affecting his work, his relationship with Olivia, everything. Unable to confide in his colleagues and desperate to relieve himself of some of the burden, Christopher blurted it all out to his father in three long sentences.

Donald felt his face drain of colour. He was so proud of his son’s career and recent promotion, and he had honestly thought that what had happened all those years ago in Whitechapel would never rear its ugly head again.

‘What should I do, Dad? Whoever it is knows everything. I know it can’t be proved that I lied on Vinny’s behalf as a kid, but any investigation could ruin my career. Mud sticks, doesn’t it?’

As a child, Donald had had a habit of chewing on his lip when he was nervous, and even though he could not remember doing so for years, he was chewing away with a vengeance now. His son joining the police force had filled him with pride, but Christopher becoming a detective sergeant just days after his twenty-third birthday had left Donald in a state of euphoria. The thought that his entire future could be in jeopardy filled him with horror. ‘You can’t tell anybody at work about this, son. You must meet this mystery caller on your own if he rings back.’

‘But that’s against police policy. We’re supposed to inform our superiors of such situations, and it’s official policy that we meet informants in pairs, never alone. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of officers do bend the rules and don’t record these meetings, but I take after you, Dad. I have morals and I play by the book.’

Donald put his hands on his son’s shoulders and stared him directly in the eyes. ‘I know you do, son, and I’m proud of you for that. But in this instance, you need to take a different approach. As you said, whoever contacted you with information obviously wants to see Vinny Butler put behind bars just as much as we and the police probably do. Imagine what being involved in such a high-profile arrest would do for your career, eh? You could be a detective inspector before you know it.’

Christopher forced a smile. His dad had always been his hero. He had never given him wrong advice in his lifetime, so why should he distrust his wise words now? ‘OK. As soon as I get the phone call, I’ll meet this informant alone. But you mustn’t tell anybody about this conversation, and there is no way you can go on holiday to Eastbourne now, Dad. Vinny could be there for all we know. It’s far too dangerous.’

‘What am I meant to say to your mother, Christopher? The holiday’s booked and our chalet is nowhere near the Butlers. I only agreed to go for Daniel and Adam’s sake. I know you refuse to have anything to do with them, but even though they’re Michael’s sons, they are fine boys.’

‘I don’t give a damn how fine they are, Dad. I do not want you going to Eastbourne and that’s final. I need you here with me.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Donald waited until the Friday before he feigned a bad stomach bug. ‘I can’t travel at the moment, love, not while I’m like this. I need to be near a lavatory for obvious reasons. You go down to Kings with Nancy and the boys, and I’ll follow as soon as I’m feeling up to it.’

‘Aw, but you might feel better by tomorrow, Donald. Most sickness-type bugs only last twenty-four to forty-eight hours, you know.’

‘Mary, I would never forgive myself if I passed this on to you or the boys and spoilt everyone’s holiday.’

‘OK, but I want you to promise me you’ll drive down as soon as you feel better. I know what you’re like for not being able to tear yourself away from the café. Don’t you let me and the boys down.’

Rather than make his wife a promise he knew he could not keep, Donald put his hand over his mouth and bolted towards the bathroom again. Christopher’s career and his needs were far more important than a week’s bloody holiday.

Little Vinny finished stocking up the mixers, then without being prompted, made his father a cup of tea.

‘Good lad. Take your lunch break now. What do ya fancy? I could murder a lump of cod and chips.’

‘I’ll go down the chippy, Dad. I fancy a saveloy and a sausage in batter.’

Vinny handed his son a tenner, then allowed himself a rare moment to remember the departed. Little Vinny had all but taken Lenny’s job over now, and even though he enjoyed having his son work with him, watching him do all the jobs his cousin used to do brought back painful memories.

Reminiscing about Roy was a different kettle of fish. Vinny could think about his brother all day long without getting upset. He was glad they’d had one final chat and he treasured the letter Roy had left him. He had even abided by most of his brother’s wishes, and he was sure if Roy was looking down he’d be pleased that he had now stopped taking cocaine. He wouldn’t be so chuffed with Michael though, which is why Vinny had rung his father for a chat the other day. Dorothy’s death had given him the perfect opportunity to do so.

Feeling his stomach churn, Vinny shuddered. The first deal with Richie had been arranged for seven o’clock this evening and even though Vinny was looking forward to earning decent money again, he was also shitting his pants. Killing people had never bothered Vinny, but there was something about participating in a big drug deal that put the fear of God in him.

Little Vinny checked out his reflection in the chip-shop window. He looked a right numpty in the old tracksuit he had on. All the skinhead clobber he’d recently thieved was hidden at Ben Bloggs’ house, and Little Vinny hated not being able to dress in the style he had become so accustomed to. His hair was growing rapidly as well. He’d asked the barber for a number one when he’d first had it cut, but it had grown into at least a number three now. Give it another month and he wouldn’t even resemble a skinhead at all.

Running back to the club to ensure lunch would still be piping hot, Little Vinny plastered a false smile on his face as he handed his dad his food and change. There was a method in his madness. His old man had driven Jo and Molly down to Eastbourne first thing this morning and Little Vinny was sure if he played his cards right, he would be allowed to go out again this weekend. His dad would be working, so surely he wasn’t expected to sit at home alone?

Michael Butler opened the front door and carried his father’s small suitcase over the threshold. Vinny had given Nancy and the boys a lift down to Eastbourne with Jo and Molly earlier and Michael was glad. He felt his dad needed a bit of quiet father-and-son time, rather than the chaos that came with having three young boys running around the house.

‘Nice gaff, Michael. Beautiful leather suite. Is it new?’

Michael poured two large brandies. ‘Yeah. We had a beige one, but Adam drew all over it with a felt-tip pen, so we decided to get a black one instead.’

Watching his father sip his drink, Michael’s heart went out to him. He had really loved Dorothy and he looked a broken man. ‘You can stay here as long as you like, Dad. There’s two or three pubs in walking distance and I’ll give you some money so you can go for a pint whenever you want. Nancy and the boys will probably stay down at Kings for the rest of the school holidays, so when I’m at work you’ll have the house to yourself. A change is as good as a rest, they say.’

‘Thanks, Michael. Shame the boys aren’t here though. I think their constant chit-chat might have been the best medicine for me.’

‘Well, I did promise Nancy that I’d try and have a week down at Kings with her and the boys myself. You can come too. It’s a wonderful holiday park and I’m sure you’d love it. You’ll probably bump into Mum and Auntie Viv though. Can you handle that?’

Albie winked. ‘I can handle anything as long as my favourite son and grandchildren are by my side. I’ve never been to a holiday park before. Is there lots to do there?’

When Michael explained how fabulous the clubhouse was and what famous acts appeared there, Albie’s eyes opened wide. ‘Vinny might be there an’ all though, Dad. I know you and him ain’t exactly the Waltons.’

‘I’m no fan of your brother, but I’ll be polite if I see him, Michael. Actually, he rung me to say he was sorry to hear about Dorothy.’

‘Did he? When?’

‘Last Monday, I think it was. He was on the phone for about ten minutes. He spoke about the club and other stuff too. I must admit, I was surprised to hear from him.’

Michael immediately smelt a rat. Not only had Vinny failed to mention he had spoken to their father, his brother had never met Dorothy and was the most unsympathetic bastard God had ever put breath in. ‘Did he mention me at all, Dad? I know he did, so don’t lie to me.’

Wishing he hadn’t opened his big mouth, Albie nodded sheepishly. ‘Vinny didn’t slag you off, boy. He’s just a bit worried about you, that’s all.’

‘Worried! What do you mean worried?’

‘He knows you’ve had problems with Nancy and he seemed a bit concerned your drinking and that was getting out of hand.’

Michael chuckled sarcastically. ‘I get it – “and that” says it all, Dad. He told you about the drugs, didn’t he?’

Feeling awkward, Albie stared at his hands. ‘Vinny wanted me to have a chat with you, make you see sense. Please don’t let on I’ve told you though. He wanted me to pretend I’d heard it through the grapevine. Promise me you won’t say anything, Michael. You know how handy your brother can be with his fists.’

Remembering the time his dad had been laid up in hospital with two broken legs and three broken ribs thanks to Vinny, Michael shook his head. ‘I would never dob you in the shit, but I am fucking livid! Vinny’s got some brass neck, ringing you to talk about me. He was bang on the gear himself before Molly was born, and he’s dealing in it now. I overheard a conversation between him and Ahmed not that long ago. They’re both at it.’

‘Doesn’t surprise me at all, boy. I wouldn’t put anything past your brother. But it’s not him I care about, it’s you. You’re a wonderful son and a fantastic father, so please don’t throw your life away. I know I can talk, seeing as I spent most of your childhood drunk, but I’ve never touched a drug in my life. Worried sick about you I am, boy, which is one of the reasons why I wanted to come and stay with you. I might be too old to put you over my knee, but I’m not too old to keep an eye on you. I’ve already buried one son and I’m damned if I’m gonna bury another.’

Seldom one to lose his temper, Michael smashed his fist against the wall. He might look like some pop star or pretty boy, but he was anything but. He was Michael fucking Butler and he was sick of being treated like some soft prick. How could Vinny betray him after everything he had done for him? Had Vinny forgotten who had helped him kill Trevor Thomas? Yet ever since Ahmed had been back on the scene, Vinny seemed to treat him with a lack of respect.