Текст книги "Dangerous Promises"

Автор книги: Roberta Kray

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

‘Here, have this.’

She stopped crying long enough to look up at him through red-rimmed panda eyes. ‘What is it?’

‘Brandy.’

‘I don’t like brandy,’ she snivelled.

‘Drink it,’ he said. ‘It’ll help.’

‘Where’s Mum? Why isn’t she here yet?’

‘She’ll be here soon.’ Wayne tried to sound confident, hoping that she hadn’t changed her mind. He’d called her earlier that morning, got no reply and presumed she was on her way. Of course, her coming would create as many problems as it would solve. On the one hand, she’d be able to take care of Kelly, but on the other there was going to be fireworks when Sharon – his father’s second wife – got home to find her here. But what else could he do? At times like these a girl needed her mother.

Wayne gulped down the drink and poured another. Yesterday had been a bloody nightmare. Kelly had gone over to the Mansfield at six o’clock when Eddie still hadn’t rung her and wasn’t answering his own phone. She hadn’t been that worried then, presuming that he’d crashed out and was still sleeping off the excesses of the night before. The flat had been in darkness and the front door, oddly, had been unlocked. She’d turned on the lights, gone into the bedroom, tried the living room and then… Eddie had been lying on the kitchen floor with a knife through his heart. They must have heard her screaming across the whole estate.

‘That bitch did it,’ Kelly spluttered. ‘She must have. It had to be her. Do you reckon the filth have charged her yet?’

‘If they’ve found her.’

Kelly wiped the snot from her nose with the back of her hand. ‘That bitch killed my Eddie. She hated his guts. She couldn’t get over him dumping her. She was always hassling his mum and dad, trying to find out where he was. The evil cow wouldn’t leave him in peace.’

Wayne gave a nod. ‘Yeah.’ He wasn’t really listening. She’d been saying the same thing for hours, over and over, as if she was caught in a loop she couldn’t escape from. He felt bad for her but at twenty-two she was young enough to get over it, to find someone else. And it wasn’t as if Eddie had been any great shakes. Personally, he hadn’t thought much of him.

‘So why haven’t they called?’ she whined. ‘Why ain’t I heard nothin’?’

‘Huh?’

‘The filth,’ she said.

‘Give ’em time, Kel.’ Wayne was hoping she was right, that this was a straightforward domestic, a row that had got out of hand and ended badly – but he had his doubts. That’s why he wanted to get out of the house and down the pub, to find out what other people thought, what the word was on the street.

‘How long does it fuckin’ take? All they have to do is arrest the bitch.’

Wayne swigged at the brandy. ‘Maybe they already have.’ He went over to the window and gazed up and down the road. There was another possibility. What if Eddie had been wasted by Terry’s mob? They’d had a few run-ins recently, the last only a few days ago. During a bust-up in the Hope and Anchor, Vinnie Keane had got stabbed. It hadn’t been serious – nothing that a few stitches couldn’t put right – but he was one of Terry Street’s boys and Wayne wondered if this was retribution.

Kelly curled up in the corner of the sofa, her long fair hair falling over her face. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. ‘She killed my Eddie. How could she do that?’

Wayne gave a long sigh. It seemed to him that everything had been going wrong over the past few months. First the old man had been sent down for a five-stretch, then he’d had to leave his flat and move back in here – his dad had asked him to, saying it wasn’t safe the two women being on their own, although really he reckoned it was just so he could keep an eye on Sharon to make sure she wasn’t shagging anyone else – and now this. It was just one bloody thing after another.

As soon as his mother arrived, he intended to make himself scarce. He didn’t want to be around when Sharon returned from visiting the old man at Highpoint and found wife number one back in residence. He probably should have mentioned it, but he’d known she’d do her nut and who needed that first thing in morning? It would have been easier to take Kel down to Bournemouth but she wasn’t allowed to leave London until the cops had finished their investigation.

Wayne considered rolling a joint – maybe that would calm Kel down a bit. Or would it make her worse? Hell, there was no way of knowing at the moment. His thoughts slid back to Eddie Wise. Yeah, the tart had probably killed him. It was the most likely explanation. Hadn’t he walked out on her? Didn’t he owe her money? But if it was Terry, that was a whole different ball game. That would be a declaration of war. Wayne might not have liked Eddie much but he’d still been Kel’s boyfriend. And that was like being family – well, almost.

Kelly finished the brandy and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. ‘I shouldn’t have left him on his own. I should have guessed she was a fuckin’ psycho.’

‘And how could you have known that? Don’t start blaming yourself, Kel. None of this is your fault.’

‘If I knew where she was, I’d kill the bitch myself.’

And Wayne reckoned she would too. She was crazy enough to do anything at the moment. ‘Yeah, well, she’ll get what’s coming to her. She’ll spend the next twenty years banged up.’

‘What if she’s done a runner? She could be miles away by now. She could be in bloody France or Ireland or fuck knows where. She ain’t gonna hang around to be picked up by the filth.’

Wayne was trying to think of something comforting to say when a black cab pulled up outside the house. Thank God. His mother was here. Finally, she was here.

14

As Petra Gissing stepped out of the cab, suitcase in hand, she glanced down the path towards the grey brick semi. The house had been her home for over twenty years until Roy had dropped the bombshell that he was dumping her for a cheap little slut who couldn’t keep her legs shut. That had been three years ago, but the betrayal still rankled. It was her pride that had been hurt more than anything else. She’d stuck with that man through thick and thin – and most of it had been thin – and then he’d gone and done the dirty on her.

The old resentments rose to the surface as she approached the front door. She’d fed the bastard, washed his clothes, raised their kids, lied to the filth for him and never missed a visit when he got sent down. And what thanks had she got for it? A goddamn divorce petition three days after her fiftieth birthday. Still, there was one consolation: the old git was serving a five-stretch now and it served him bloody right.

Petra started hauling the heavy suitcase up the driveway. She had probably packed more than she needed but she didn’t know how long she’d be staying for. A week? A month? That depended on Kelly. The poor kid was bound to be a mess and she didn’t plan on leaving until she could take her baby with her.

Wayne appeared before she was even halfway along the drive, which saved her the indignity of having to ring her own front doorbell. ‘Give us a hand with this case, will you, love. It weighs a ton.’

‘What took you so long?’ he snapped. ‘We’ve been waiting all morning.’

Petra threw him a sharp look. ‘It’s good to see you too. And I’m in Bournemouth, not bloody Bethnal Green. I’ve been up since the crack of dawn.’

‘Yeah, sorry. Sorry, Mum. It is good to see you. It’s just all been…’ He picked up the case and carried it the rest of the way and over the threshold into the hall. ‘Kel’s been asking for you.’

‘How is she?’

‘Hysterical,’ he said. ‘She hasn’t stopped crying since she found him. And last night they kept her down the nick for hours.’

Petra closed the door behind her and frowned. ‘They can’t think she had anything to do with it.’

‘She’s a Gissing, ain’t she? The filth don’t think twice about stitching any of us up.’

‘Well, they’d better not try it with her. Did you get her a brief?’

‘Yeah, course I did. Tony Marshall. He was with her when they did the interview.’

‘And what does he reckon?’

‘Says it’s early days. The pigs are still trying to work out exactly when Eddie died. And the only alibi Kel’s got is that after leaving the Mansfield in the morning she was home all day with Sharon.’

Petra flinched a little on hearing the name of the tart who’d taken her place. ‘But you said his wife did it, that she was there when Kelly left. Why would they —’

‘I’m not saying they do. I’m just not saying they don’t either.’ Wayne pulled a face. ‘Let’s wait and see what happens, huh? Kel’s in the living room. You go through and I’ll take your case up. Will you be okay in the spare room?’

‘Have I got a choice?’

‘Well, you can have my room, if you’d rather. I don’t care where I sleep.’

‘No, that’s fine. Put it in the spare.’

As her son walked up the stairs, Petra hurried along the hall and into the living room. ‘Kelly? I’m here now, love. I’m here.’

Kelly raised her tear-stained face and wailed, ‘She killed him, Mum. She killed my Eddie. What am I going to do?’

Petra sank down on to the sofa and took her daughter in her arms. ‘I know, baby. It’s a terrible thing. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Mummy’s here. You’ll be all right. I’m going to take care of you.’

It was another ten minutes before Wayne came downstairs again. By then Petra had managed to calm Kelly down a bit. She looked up at her son. ‘Make us a brew, will you? I’m spitting feathers here.’

‘I’ve got to go out.’

‘What’s so urgent that it can’t wait five minutes?’

Grumbling under his breath, Wayne disappeared into the kitchen.

Petra gave Kelly another hug. ‘I won’t be a minute, love. I just need a word with your brother.’ She got up, crossed the room and leaned against the door with her arms folded across her chest. ‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’

‘You know what’s going on.’

Petra moved inside the room, closed the door and lowered her voice. ‘Don’t give me that, Wayne Gissing. What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Nothin’.’

‘You’re a bloody awful liar. Come on, spit it out.’

Wayne turned his back on her, playing around with the mugs and the tea. ‘It’s probably nothin’.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

Wayne looked over his shoulder. ‘There’s been a bit of bother with Terry Street.’

‘What kind of bother?’

‘Just a scrap at the Hope. It was a few days back.’

Petra raised her eyes to the ceiling. Like father, like son, she thought. Neither of them was capable of keeping out of trouble for more than five minutes. ‘And what’s that got to do with Eddie?’

‘Did I say it had anything to do with him?’

‘Does it?’

He hesitated before replying. ‘It could have. Maybe. Things got kind of… Well, Vinnie Keane got knifed, nothing serious but maybe Terry decided… But he wouldn’t, would he? Eddie was never one of the firm so it don’t make sense. Except with him getting stabbed same as Vinnie…’

‘An eye for an eye,’ Petra said, knowing exactly how Terry Street’s mind worked. He wouldn’t have taken kindly to Vinnie being hurt. The two blokes went way back. They’d both worked for Joe Quinn all those years ago and they’d been tight ever since. ‘What the hell were you doing at the Hope in the first place?’

‘I can drink where I want, can’t I?’

Petra placed her hands on her hips and let out a sigh. ‘Not in Terry’s pub. That’s just asking for it. Was Eddie with you?’

‘Nah, course not.’

‘Are you sure?’ She stared hard at her son. ‘Wayne?’

‘He was waiting outside, okay. He was keeping the motor ticking over in case…’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she muttered.

Wayne’s face took on a surly expression. ‘It’s not my bleedin’ fault. He offered. I didn’t make him do it. Anyway, that tart’s still in the frame, Eddie’s missus. It was probably her did for him.’

‘And if it wasn’t?’

Wayne turned back to the counter, slopped some hot water into the mugs and gave the tea a stir. ‘Then I’ll sort it.’

Petra stared at him. He was the image of his dad in every way, short and solid with the same sharp face and thin lips. She loved her son but he wouldn’t win any beauty contests. All the Gissing men were ugly – it was in their genes – and most of them were nasty too. ‘Yeah, and that’ll really help. Who’s going to run things if you get banged up?’

Wayne dropped the teabags into the bin, added milk and sugar to the tea and handed her the two mugs. ‘The same invisible man who’s doing it now while I’m wasting time talking to you. I need to get out there, Mum, and do some digging.’

‘When are you coming back?’

‘How should I know? Later. This evening probably.’

Petra gave her a son a steely look. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, huh?’

Wayne picked up his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged himself into it. ‘You just worry about Kel, I’ll take care of the rest.’

It was another few hours before Petra was finally able to persuade her daughter to take a sleeping pill and go to bed. She sat beside her until she fell asleep thinking that the hardest thing about being a mother was seeing your kid in pain and not being able to take that pain away.

Since moving to Bournemouth, Petra missed Kelly more than anyone else. Perhaps she should never have gone away, but after being ditched by Roy, the thought of staying in Shoreditch, of constantly bumping into him and his tart, was just too much for her. Not to mention the pitying looks from the neighbours. Oh, have you heard about poor Petra Gissing… No, she couldn’t have borne it. What she’d needed was a fresh start, a new beginning.

Once she was sure that Kelly was out for the count, Petra took the opportunity to have a snoop round the house. A few changes had been made since she’d been living there and none of them were to her taste. She wrinkled her nose at the deep-pile cream carpet and red walls of the master bedroom. The sheets on the king-size bed were black silk, the cover a deep shade of scarlet. Like a tart’s boudoir, she thought, although it didn’t come as any great surprise. Sharon was as common as they came.

Petra went into the bathroom and noticed that it needed a good clean. She ran a finger along the window ledge, picking up a smear of grease and dust. ‘Lazy cow,’ she muttered. The loo didn’t look too sparkling either. She’d have to give the whole place a good going over if she was going to stay for a while. There were enough germs in this one room to start a bloody epidemic.

Petra was on her way downstairs to get some cloths and a bottle of bleach when the front door opened and wife number two stepped into the hall. Sharon, a small busty blonde, looked up and stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping.

‘What the… what the fuck are you doing here?’

Petra scowled at her. ‘Taking care of my daughter. You got a problem with that?’

‘I’ve got a problem with you being in my house.’

‘I think you’ll find that it’s Roy’s house, darling. How is he, by the way? Enjoying a bit of peace and quiet I should imagine.’

‘Get out!’ Sharon ordered, jerking her thumb towards the door. ‘Get your bloody coat and fuck off!’

Petra shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so, love. Kelly’s in a state, in case you hadn’t noticed, and I’m going nowhere until she’s back on her feet again.’

‘You ain’t staying here!’

‘And who’s going to stop me?’

Like two cats preparing to fight over territory, the women glared at each other, their hackles up and their claws out. Petra was the first to make a move. She swept down the stairs and pushed her face into Sharon’s. ‘If you want me out, you’re going to have to throw me out.’

For a moment Petra thought she was actually going to try – the slut was certainly stupid enough – but quickly she backed off, resorting instead to empty threats.

‘You wait ’til I tell Roy about this.’

‘Yeah, and what’s he going to do about it?’

‘He ain’t going to be happy.’

‘Try talking to someone who gives a shit.’ Petra strode off towards the kitchen with a wide smile on her face. Ding dong. First round to her. But she didn’t intend to get complacent. The fight, she suspected, was only just beginning.

15

It was after nine before Gerald Frayne finally made it home and sat down at the table to eat his dinner. He sipped on a glass of beer while his better half dished out the beef stew she had kept warm for him. He was lucky, he knew, to have a wife like Nina, a partner who never whined or complained about the antisocial hours he often had to keep. Since their move his workload had, naturally, lessened considerably – Haverlea was hardly the crime capital of the north – and although a part of him missed the faster pace of London it was a sacrifice worth making to keep Nina happy.

For over twenty years, she had put up with the stress and fear of being a cop’s wife, of wondering whether he would be another statistic, the subject of the next news flash, the one who never came home. His being part of the Flying Squad hadn’t done much for her peace of mind either. Now, as he neared retirement, he was content to return to uniform and spend his days dealing with less dangerous adversaries.

Still, he had to admit that this morning’s phone call had set the adrenalin flowing. DI Ian McCloud, an old colleague, had rung from Cowan Road station to tell him about a murder that had taken place in Kellston, and a possible suspect living in Haverlea. Sadie Wise had apparently paid a visit to her estranged husband and later he’d been found stabbed to death in his flat.

Nina laid the plate in front of him and sat down on the opposite side of the table. ‘So what did you think of her?’

Gerald dug hungrily into the stew, chewing on a mouthful while he considered his answer. Although it would probably be frowned upon in certain circles, the two of them often discussed cases and he always welcomed her input. Nina was smart and insightful and very discreet. He valued her intelligence and her judgement. ‘She seemed genuinely shocked, but then she could be an excellent actress. If she did do it, she had twenty-four hours to prepare for our visit.’

‘Don’t they know what time he died?’

‘Not exactly – they’re still waiting on the autopsy – although they think it was between ten and one.’

‘Which puts her in the clear, doesn’t it?’

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘She claims she left the victim’s flat at around nine and the landlady of the guesthouse confirms that she checked out at about ten or just before.’

Nina placed her elbows on the table and put her chin in her hands. ‘But?’

‘But there’s nothing to say she didn’t return to the Mansfield. She might not have gone straight to the station. Perhaps she changed her mind and went back over to her husband’s flat instead. Perhaps she was still unhappy about something. There’s no proof that she actually caught the train she said she caught… or that she got home at the time she said she did.’

‘Apart from the boyfriend. Do you think he’s lying?’

Gerald tapped his knife against the side of the plate. ‘In all honesty, I don’t know. He seems a decent type but people do all kinds of stupid things for love.’

‘Like moving to Haverlea,’ Nina said, grinning.

Gerald smiled back at her. ‘That was smart, not stupid. I get to see a lot more of you, don’t I?’

‘Ah, well batted, Frayne.’ She paused and then added, ‘I think I know her. Sadie Wise, I mean. Did you say she worked in Peterson’s?’

‘That’s right.’

‘A pretty girl, yes? Blonde?’

‘Is she?’

Nina grinned again. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t notice. I’ve seen her in the bookshop. She seems nice.’

‘Even nice people do bad things sometimes.’

‘I suppose. What was this Eddie Wise like?’

Gerald took a sip of beer before replying. ‘It’s all a bit sketchy at the moment. No criminal record, but he might just have been lucky. He’d been dating a girl called Kelly Gissing. Her dad’s inside for robbery, doing a five-stretch. Mind, that’s nothing new for him; Roy’s been in and out of nick all his life – just like his brothers. The Gissings are what you’d term habitual criminals. She was the one who found Eddie.’

‘But she’s not a suspect?’

‘She’s not been ruled out, but it seems unlikely.’

Nina inclined her head, her face becoming thoughtful. ‘Maybe Eddie got involved in something dodgy. This might not have anything to do with either of the women.’