Blood Sister: A thrilling and gritty crime drama (38 page)

‘If I was the coppers I wouldn’t be knocking, you stupid bint. I’d have the door on its hinges by now.’

‘Charlie?’ Her voice was excited now and she soon had the door wide open.

Of course she would use his real name, being one of the few people who knew it. John waltzed in past Melanie Ingram and wished he hadn’t. The place smelt of stale fags, days-old rubbish and a disgusting odour that could’ve been the stain of beer or puke.

‘Fuck, Mel,’ he said with disgust as he placed a hand over his nose, ‘you reek like a wino.’

No one would guess in a million years that he and Mel had grown up together and once stepped out together. She’d been real easy on the eyes back in those days, all feather soft, black hair, smooth skin and a body a man would cut out his heart for. All the local lads had fought tooth and nail to be the one to be seen on her arm. She’d been a right goer in the sack too, with legs that could twist around him like string and boobs that could crush him to blissful death. Now look at her: worn out, fat and, as he saw it, a downright disgrace to the memory of the girl she’d once been.

‘Yeah well,’ she hit back at him, ‘my shit don’t smell like Chanel anymore since my Mickey got banged up in your car ringing screw-up.’

‘That was years back. Mickey got done because he’s a one hundred per cent dickhead. Anyway, he’s been out for donkey’s. It isn’t my fault he didn’t come back to you and found a new bird to live it up with, in Portugal.’

‘I’ll make us a cuppa,’ she said, showing her tobacco-stained teeth.

He shook his head. ‘I’m not stopping.’

She looked at him and fluttered her eyelashes. ‘That isn’t what you used to say, when you couldn’t wait to get me to drop my knickers.’

John suspected if she did, he’d be gagging from the smell. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a brown envelope and passed it to her. ‘There’s a couple of grand there. I want you to spread it around the estate. I want you to keep an eye on the comings and goings of Nuts Taylor’s missus. Anyone hear anything or clap eyes on that ponce Nuts, they’re to pass the info up to you and you let me know.’

No one had to tell John the type of place The Devil was – filled with toerags ready to sell their kids for the right money. Chuck some cash around and it wouldn’t be long before he had Nuts good and tight by the balls.

‘The fucking Millers,’ she swore. She puckered her dry lips as if she was going to spit. ‘If my Stacey had never got mixed up with their girl, she’d never have gone on the needle.’ Her voice broke. ‘She’s letting any Tom, Dick or Harry stick it up her to get her next fix.’

What a total fuck up she’s made of her life, John thought, looking around. How could that beautiful girl have come to this? He was sorry about what had happened to her girl, but if he’d been living in this hellhole he’d probably be banged out of his head on H as well.

‘What’s Nuts done?’

‘That’s my business. Just get the dosh flying and the tongues wagging.’

As he reached for the latch on the door he heard her say, ‘It’s going to cost you.’

John slowly turned back to her and stared into her greedy little eyes, seeing only the funny, laughing girl he remembered. ‘Take what you need, Mel.’ He almost told her to use it to get this fleapit cleaned up, but it wasn’t his business. His business was finding that scum who’d taken his wife’s car.

‘You’ll come back, won’t you, John?’ said his one-time girlfriend. ‘We’ll have a proper cuppa then. Talk about old—’

But John had opened the door and closed it firmly behind him.

Fifty-Two

On Saturday morning John found Nicky and Dee in the gym at the back of their house. Dee was furiously pumping a cycle machine with earphones on while Nicky was sitting on a bench, resting between sets, although his workout seemed to consist mainly of all rests and no sets. It appeared to John that he was even more sullen than the day before. Banshee sat admiring her mistress’s workout as she sat curled near the treadmill.

Pausing only to take off her earphones, and without breaking stride or looking at him, Dee demanded, ‘Where have you been? You didn’t come home last night.’ Her pedalling speeded up with fury. ‘You better not have been shafting some slag.’

As if. Her demands in the bedroom department didn’t leave him anything in the tank to spread around. ‘Don’t talk crap, Dee, you know what I’ve been doing.’

‘Have you found it?’

John flinched slightly before saying, ‘No.’

‘Have you found him?’

‘No.’

Dee’s exercise became even more furious. ‘I don’t suppose you managed to find your way to their rat hole of a flat? Or did you lose your way?’

John felt he had something positive to report, by way of consolation for not finding the car. ‘Yeah, I found my way. I saw the wife.’

Dee slowed her pace and mopped her brow with her sweatband. ‘And? Bloody well spit it out.’

John folded his arms. ‘Do you do anything, except workout, primp and preen yourself and sit around eating chocolates all day? I mean, how about I give you the money and you open a little antique shop in the village – get yourself out of the house now and again?’

The wheels on Dee’s bike slowed and stopped. ‘Yeah – or, you could carry on just giving me the money and we’ll skip the antique shop part. How about that?’ She climbed off her bike. ‘Does the wife know where he is?’

‘She says not.’

Dee jumped out of her pram again. ‘She’s lying.’

John shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. The boy’s not going to tell her that anyway, is he? He’s not that stupid.’

Dee suggested, ‘He was dumb enough to steal my ride. And he’ll be in touch with her to find out what’s going on. Why don’t you tap her phone?’ Then she shrank slightly and John got the distinct impression that she wished she hadn’t said that.

‘He won’t say anything on the blower; he’s not that stupid either. Nah, I reckon the best bet for now is to keep an eye on the family. She’ll pass on the message that I want a word, and if he don’t cough up, we’ll have to think about putting on the pressure another way. He’s got a couple of little girls. No father’s gonna be able to withstand that kind of pressure, even a no-mark like him.’

Dee was shocked. ‘He’s got two girls? You never told me that.’ Then she was angry. ‘And you went around there in the middle of the night, frightening the bejabbers out of them? What’s the matter with you, you stupid animal? Right, you’ll have to think of something else. I’m not having kids being scared out of their little jim-jams.’

John waved his hands in the air. ‘I give up, I really do.’

He sometimes wondered if the answer to his domestic problems was to turn himself into a cat or a kid. It seemed to him that all her hatred and anger against the adult world was a mirror image of her sugary softness for children and pets. And not just pets either. After the appearance of a mouse in the kitchen, he’d bought a battery of traps from a local DIY store. Dee had thrown them all in the bin, reminding him that mice were innocent creatures that did no one any harm. When John agreed but suggested that didn’t mean he wanted them eating his dinner either, he was called a murderer for his trouble.

‘I’m not going to harm his kids, am I? I won’t need to anyway. I’ll find him, I know all about this guy. I told you, he used to work for me. Went by the name of Knobby in those days . . .’ John was suddenly alarmed by the look on his wife’s face. ‘Are you alright, bird? You look like you’ve had a bit of a turn.’

Dee wiped her sweatband along her cheeks, looking down. ‘Of course I’m alright, I just want my Marilyn back.’

John gestured at Nicky and whispered, ‘What’s the matter with him? He’s in a right strop.’

Dee whispered back, ‘I think he’s got the hump because Tiffany said she was coming around this morning and hasn’t put in an appearance. I don’t know where she’s got to; I’ll have to remind her who’s paying her wages. Poor boy’s probably got a crush on her or something – not that it will go anywhere. She likes her bedmates with a bit on top and a bush downstairs, you get me? He’ll get over it.’

John had been saving his most interesting revelation for last. ‘Which reminds me, there’s another bit of news I’ve got about the guy who pinched your car that you might be interested in.’

In the morning light, as Jen marched across the estate to the Old Swan, she bumped into Bex. Her best mate looked very pleased with herself, her flesh squeezed tight into a black number that looked like a thick elastic band and her face made up from chin to hairline. Shame about that awful perfume she still wore.

‘Where you off to?’ Jen asked. ‘Your new fella taking you for a spin?’

Bex gave her head a breezy, little twirl like she was a teen going on her first date. ‘Nowhere special, just enjoying life.’

Lucky bitch. Wish I had a fella who treated me like Madonna and Whitney all rolled into one.

‘So when are we going to meet Prince Charming?’

Bex lifted her shoulders. ‘He’s a bit shy. He’s still getting used to being around these parts—’

‘Well, that will be some getting used to. I’m looking for Nuts—’

The smile fell from the other woman’s face. ‘What’s up? He hasn’t walloped you again?’

Jen didn’t have the time for talking, so she started motoring away and, over her shoulder, threw out, ‘We’ll chat when I’ve got time.’

It was a real shame she didn’t have the time to talk because she could do with chatting her problems through with her bestie. Other people might’ve come and gone from her life, but not Bex. Bex had been a real rock to her through some of the rough patches, especially during those periods when Nuts got banged up. And her flat had always been a safe haven for her and girls to flee to if Nuts’ fist were getting a bit too leery.

As soon as Jen reached the Old Swan she banged hard on the closed door. ‘Open up.’

No answer. She wasn’t budging until someone opened the flippin’ door. Eventually Jacko, the landlord, opened up.

‘He ain’t here,’ was what he told her.

‘And if he was, would you tell me?’ She barged past him.

She wasn’t surprised to see a small group of people inside. The Old Swan was one of those boozers that had a lock but never really closed its doors. In fact, much of its money was made after hours. The topless ladies wrapped around men’s necks told her all she needed to know about how it had been raking in extra cash after the last orders bell had rung. Jen didn’t see Nuts but she did see his friend Kevin. One of the women was sat on his lap, his fingers treating her nipples like he’d just discovered sweeties for the first time. As she moved closer she realised that the woman was Stacey Ingram. Jen could’ve wept at the state of her: eyes glazed over, ribs on display and track marks trying to hide under the layers of powder she’d coated on her arms.

‘You want to be ashamed of yourself, you do,’ Jen savagely chucked at him. ‘How can you even think about having it off with her when she’s in such a state?’

Kevin squeezed his hands deeper into Stacey’s breast. ‘It’s supply and demand, Jen girl. I’m supplying it, she’s demanding it.’ He laughed like the situation was the best joke in town.

‘Oh yeah? Your Sharon know where your wick’s dipping when you ain’t indoors?’

That got the smile wiped off his face. By this stage, everyone else was looking at them.

‘Hop it.’ Kevin patted Stacey’s arse and she staggered towards the bar, obviously totally out of it. ‘If you’re looking for Nuts, I don’t have a clue where he is.’

Jen looked him up and down. ‘Don’t believe you. You two are like Siamese twins. I need to see him now.’

Kevin suddenly noticed all the eyes on them and puffed out his chest like he was the man of the house. ‘Who the soddin’ hell do you think you are, coming in here and mouthing off at me?’ He stood up so suddenly his chair fell backwards and whacked onto the floor. ‘I wouldn’t blame Nuts if he did do a runner. All you do is give him grief morning, noon and effing night. A man should be able to get peace in his own home.’

Jen’s face went hot. ‘That low-life was the worst thing that ever happened to me. You come and talk to my girls about the type of peace they’ve had since their dad got home—’

‘That’s on you, Jen,’ he cut in. ‘He said you wouldn’t even bring them to visit him this time around.’ He stepped menacingly towards her. ‘No wonder he has to slap you around—’

‘Don’t you fucking touch her,’ a voice yelled. Jen and everyone else looked around to see a furious and shaking Stacey at the bar. ‘You lay one hand on her and I’ll . . .’ She picked up a bottle and threw it at Kevin’s head. He ducked just in time and the bottle crashed against the wall behind him. Stacey went mad, totally out of control, picking up glasses and ashtrays and pelting them as she screamed blue murder at Kevin. Jacko finally reached her and wrapped his arms tight around her as he lifted her off the floor.

‘Get your hands off me, you dirty bastard, you filthy . . .’ Her curses flew as she kicked her legs in the air, only stopping when Jacko shook her so hard her head snapped one way and then the other. And then, as if she were in a dream, she flopped silent in his arms.

Jen was shaken and as stunned as the silence all around her. That poor girl needed help. Tiffany would be heartbroken if she ever heard about this.

‘Piss off, Jen,’ Kevin snarled at her.

But Jen didn’t even hear him; she just kept looking at her sister’s one-time best friend and felt an incredible sadness that such a girl’s life could have ended up like this. Jacko let her go and Stacey stood there like a block of ice.

‘Stacey,’ Jen said, with her mum voice on, ‘I’m taking you to your mum’s.’

Stacey’s lip curled as she shook her head. Jen walked over to her and knowing that Stacey wasn’t going to leave with her, she did the one, decent thing she could do – she placed her jacket over the younger woman to cover her chest.

Then she turned to Kevin and pointed her finger at him. ‘You tell Nuts that I want him home.’

As she turned to leave, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kevin walk over to Stacey, cruelly grab one of her breasts and use his hold on her to drag her out towards one of the back rooms. By the time she got outside Jen thought her head was going to burst. Sometimes living around here just did her head in. If one of her girls ended up like Stacey, she’d die. There was nothing she could do for the junkie she’d left inside. She couldn’t open her trap to the authorities to try and get her some help; you didn’t do that type of stuff on The Devil, you took care of your own. Sadly, Stacey wasn’t one of her own.