Brotherhood of Blades (7 page)

Chantelle furrowed her forehead. ‘She left about midday, I think.’

‘Were you there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you go out after that?’

She shook her head.

‘Are you sure?’

She nodded.

‘Think, Chantelle. Did anyone knock on your door?’

‘I can’t remember anyone knocking,’ she said, growing flustered again.

‘So she can’t help you,’ Alysha butted in.

‘Would you mind taking Alysha into another room?’ Georgia said sharply to Luanne. ‘And stay in there with her. I’d like to take Chantelle’s statement in private.’

‘Please let them stay with me,’ Chantelle protested.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Just a few questions,’ Stephanie said gently. ‘Then they can come back.’

Luanne stood up and pushed Alysha outside the room. Georgia noticed that her shoes were smeared with mud.

‘Have you been out tonight, Luanne?’ she asked.

‘No.’ Luanne lifted her chin defiantly.

‘I think you have,’ Georgia said. ‘Look at your shoes.’

Luanne looked down at her feet. She pushed Alysha through the door and lowered her voice. ‘I was working, on the street next to the estate. I need the money.’ She glared at Georgia. ‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d want all the gory details of the cocks I sucked earlier.’

‘I’m not interested in that,’ Georgia snapped. ‘This is a murder enquiry.’

‘Heard it all before,’ Stephanie added.

‘Never tasted it though, I bet.’ Luanne said, looking straight at Georgia before leaving the room.

Stephanie and Georgia exchanged a look, and Stephanie turned back to Chantelle. ‘Have you been out earlier too?’ she asked the girl.

‘No, I was in all day. And no, I don’t remember anyone coming to the door.’ She looked away. ‘You keep asking, but no one did. If they did I would tell you.’ Her forehead crumpled as if she was about to cry.

She was lying.

‘When did you last see your aunt?’ Georgia asked, her voice totally devoid of sympathy.

A thread of mascara began to run down Chantelle’s cheek; she touched a finger to the corner of her eye to ease the sting. ‘This morning. I told you. Aunt Haley went out about twelve. She said she had to get shopping on the way home, so she might be a bit late. I told her I was going out tonight, and she said I was to wait for her to come home first.’

‘What time is she usually home?’ Georgia asked.

Stephanie pulled a tissue from a crumpled packet in her pocket and passed it to Chantelle. She took it and dabbed the leaking mascara under her eye. ‘She works at the hairdressing salon from two until six on a Friday.’

‘And do you work?’ Georgia asked her for the second time. ‘Honestly?’

Chantelle dropped her gaze. ‘I’m waiting to go to college.’

‘Do you work?’ Georgia persisted.

She picked at her nails. Georgia noticed they were yellowing. That confirmed what Georgia already knew: the girl was a user.

‘I was working,’ Chantelle told her. ‘But I want to dance professionally. Street dancing, I want to do street dancing.’

‘Do you go to lessons?’

She reluctantly shook her head. ‘I used to. I gave it up, just for a while.’ She became visibly nervous. ‘I am going to start again.’

‘Nice shoes,’ Georgia said. ‘Very fashionable. New, are they?’

Chantelle’s dark eyes were vague and her skin was papery dry. Another few months of using and this girl’s pretty face would look like a haggard old woman’s. Georgia wanted to find out which lowlife snake was dealing to her; she believed he could be the link to her aunt’s murder. She made a quick decision. A tough approach was best.

‘Chantelle, you need to start talking to us,’ she said. ‘If you don’t, you could be arrested for obstructing a murder enquiry. I think you know who came to your flat tonight. So answer me this: are you trying to protect someone? Or is it that you’re afraid of someone?’

Chantelle’s eyes widened and fresh tears formed in them.

‘Talk to us,’ Georgia said, her tone still harsh.

‘If you’re afraid, we can help you,’ Stephanie said, slipping into the hard/soft approach she and Georgia habitually worked during teenage interviews.

Tears began to spill down Chantelle’s cheeks.

‘You know as well as I do that we have DNA on record for three-quarters of the people on this estate,’ Georgia said. ‘It won’t take us long to find out.’ She paused, waiting for Chantelle to speak, but the girl just looked terrified. ‘You see, I think that blood is your aunt’s,’ she continued, ‘and someone came to your flat to tell you that. Am I right?’

Chantelle was crying in earnest now, but Georgia pushed on. ‘We will find out who it was, and you’ll be charged with withholding vital evidence in a murder enquiry. Is that what you want?’

‘Help yourself, Chantelle,’ Stephanie said gently. ‘You must want us to find her killer.’

Chantelle wiped her tearstained face with the back of her hand. ‘Yo-Yo,’ she said in a in a barely audible voice. ‘He came to the flat earlier.’

‘Yo-Yo?’ Georgia looked at Stephanie. ‘You mean Stuart Reilly?’ She nearly leaped in the air. Was it going to be that straightforward? She saw in Stephanie’s face that they were both thinking the same. Was this the evidence they needed to trap this bastard that CID had wanted for months? No wonder these girls were so cagey; they were terrified. Reilly was a killer.

She kept her cool. ‘He’s the main Elder on the estate, is that right?’ she asked. She knew exactly who and what Reilly was, but she needed to hear it from Chantelle.

‘He’s head of the Brotherhood, the gang that rule this estate, is that right?’ Stephanie pushed keeping her tone casual.

‘He’ll kill me for telling you,’ Chantelle said in a tiny voice.

‘He won’t get the chance,’ Stephanie quickly assured her. ‘If he killed your aunt he’s going to prison. He’ll be locked up for a very long time.’

‘Why would he want to kill your aunt?’ Georgia asked her. ‘Does she owe him money for drugs?’

Chantelle shook her head.

‘Do you owe him money?’

Chantelle said nothing.

‘Is that it, Chantelle?’ Georgia pushed. ‘He punished your aunt for a debt you owe?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know. I work for him. I pay him that way.’

‘For drugs?’

Chantelle pressed her lips together.

‘Help us to help you, Chantelle,’ Stephanie said to her. ‘We want to protect you.’

She still didn’t answer.

‘Why did he come round to yours today?’ Georgia asked her.

Chantelle shrugged.

‘Come on, Chantelle. Help yourself here.’ Stephanie was getting tough now. ‘Did he come to tell you he’d killed your aunt?’

‘No.’ She shook her head vehemently and scrubbed at the black mascara with the tattered tissue.

Stephanie gently took it from her and handed her another clean one. Chantelle snatched it and continued to rub the mascara from her face.

‘Chantelle, what did he say when he came to your flat tonight?’ Georgia asked her again.

Chantelle examined the mascara on the tissue. ‘He told me to go to work.’ She looked up at Stephanie. ‘I work the street with Luanne. That’s how I pay for my stuff.’

Georgia had to remind herself again that it wasn’t her job to save these girls. Her job was to get the bastards that destroyed them.

‘Where does he live?’ Stephanie asked. ‘Stuart Reilly – Yo-Yo – where does he live?’ She looked at Georgia.

Georgia managed not to smile. They certainly had Yo-Yo Reilly’s DNA on record. If he was responsible for Haley’s murder the case would be tied up as soon as the lab results came back. Twenty-four hours might be optimistic, but by the end of the weekend Yo-Yo Reilly would be in custody and they would be toasting another solved murder. In the meantime they had Chantelle’s statement, which meant they could arrest and lock him up now. The most vicious criminal in South London was coming off the streets, and away from this crime-infested estate. And also, thanks to Stephanie, they also had Chantelle’s DNA on the tissue.

‘Where does he live?’ Georgia repeated Stephanie’s question. ‘Chantelle, does Yo-Yo live on this estate?’

Chantelle didn’t answer.

‘We can easily find out,’ Georgia told her.

‘He lives on the ground floor of this block.’ The voice was Luanne’s. She had been listening outside the door, as Georgia had expected.

‘If we tell you, are we finally going to be free of that scumbag?’ she asked Georgia.

‘What number?’ Stephanie asked getting up from the sofa and lifting her mobile ready to call for back-up.

‘He’ll get us for this,’ Chantelle said in a terrified tone to Luanne.

‘A hundred and thirteen,’ Luanne told them clearly. ‘He’ll be put on remand, won’t he?’ she asked. ‘I mean, the bastard won’t get bail, will he?’

Georgia shook her head. ‘Not a chance. He’s already got a string of offences for carrying weapons.’

‘We’ll need protection,’ Luanne said.

Now they both looked like the frightened, vulnerable teenagers they were.

‘There will be police up and down the walkways all night. You’re quite safe here,’ Georgia assured her. ‘Just make sure you don’t go out.’ She handed Chantelle a card. ‘If you need me, call that number. We’ll be back in touch tomorrow anyway. We’ll need an official statement.’ She turned to Luanne. ‘Do not let her out of your sight.’

‘Hold up,’ Luanne half-pleaded. ‘We’ll need long-term protection. Not just the weekend. He’s a killer, and he’ll get us somehow when he finds out we grassed on him. And he will find out.’

‘He’ll be locked up,’ Georgia reminded her. ‘For a very long time.’

‘That won’t stop him. He’ll get one of the Brotherhood on to it. We can’t stay here; you need to find us somewhere else to live.’ She looked at Alysha and Chantelle. ‘All of us.’

‘The police will be around the estate for quite a while yet,’ said Georgia. ‘Lock yourself in, and you’ll be safe. Keep your sister in too. On no account is she to go out alone. If anything frightens you call one of the police outside, then ring me.’ She handed Luanne another of her personal cards.

‘Everything frightens us! Blimey, where do I start?’ Luanne’s voice cracked and her tough front went with it. ‘I can’t believe I have just given him up,’ she gasped. ‘They’ll get us. They will seriously hurt us.’

‘I thought you said black-skinned girls were tough,’ Georgia said with an encouraging smile. ‘There are police all over the place; you’ll be quite safe. And you have my mobile number.’

They let themselves out, leaving the two girls huddled together on the sofa.

‘What have we done?’ Georgia heard Chantelle say.

FIVE

J
ason lay in bed listening to the never-ending wail of sirens. He had promised his gran he would be gone by the time she got back from the market. She had told him she would sort the blood on his sweatshirt, and he wasn’t to think of anything but his new life. And she had told him over and over that she believed in him. Nothing, she told him, was to get in the way of this chance he had to start again. If he blew it, he would never get another one.

She didn’t want to know any more about what had happened. That way she could tell the police that she knew nothing. If they came knocking this morning, they could knock the bloody door down, because no one would be there. That was why he had to go, and soon.

He put his hands over his eyes. He knew she was right, but if he was to go from postcode to postcode on his way to North London, he needed another shank.

If he had told Gran Sals what really happened, and that he had been to see Chantelle, she would have hollered at him as well as urging him to go. She had hated Haley so much, and Chantelle too. But he loved Chantelle, and she needed him now more than ever; he had to see her.

It had been impossible to talk to her; she was hysterical. That wasn’t surprising after what had happened, but it didn’t help. She was only half listening when he told her about the opportunity he had for them both, to get away from this place and dance, just as they’d always planned. ‘Everything’s different now, babe,’ she’d said. ‘You don’t want me with you. I’m not worth it.’

He knew right away that that was Yo-Yo’s influence. He’d tried to persuade her, begged her, even, but she was adamant. ‘I can’t go,’ she’d said. ‘Not now. Not with what’s happened.’

He understood in a way. Her aunt had been killed, and she had a lot of sorting out to do. But if he hung around, he might well get arrested for Haley’s murder, and that would put paid to everything. On the other hand, if he didn’t wait for her Chantelle might never join him, and then he’d never forgive himself.

She said she’d come after him eventually, when things with Aunt Haley got sorted. But he didn’t think she was strong enough to cope with it all alone. He thought there was a strong chance she would escape further into heroin, and not even evil old Haley was there to stop her now.

Chantelle needed someone to help her through, and if he dared not be there for her himself, Luanne was the next best thing. She was a hooker, but she was sensible, and she didn’t do hard drugs. She and Chantelle had grown up together, and were best friends. He’d ask Luanne to look after Chantelle and keep in touch with him, and as soon as they’d put Haley in the ground she could help Chantelle to get to wherever he was staying. Meanwhile he would try to get Chantelle an audition at the dance school.

Chantelle had given him her new mobile number last night, and told him to call this morning. It was very early, still night time really, so he’d give it an hour or so. He’d make sure he had Luanne’s number too, and get things moving.

The Feds were everywhere. If they saw him he was sure to be picked up, and in his haste he hadn’t been too careful. He really needed to get out of here – but first he had to get hold of another shank to replace the one he’d dumped last night. Luanne could get him one: something small, and sharp and easy to keep hidden. Luanne could always get what you wanted.