East End Trouble (28 page)

C
harlie Williams hesitated
outside the large steel door.

It creaked open, but still Charlie stood there frozen to the spot until a shove behind him sent him staggering into the room.

The room contained a table that was bolted to the floor and two chairs. Sitting in one and facing Charlie, was Inspector Peel.

His large hooded eyes stared up at Charlie for a moment before he said, “Sit down, Charlie. I hear you had a change of heart.”

Charlie swallowed hard and sat down on the chair opposite Inspector Peel.

He ran a hand through his hair. “How does this work then?” he asked suspiciously.

Inspector Peel’s eyes flickered up behind Charlie and nodded at the prison guard behind his back. “We’ll be all right now. You can shut the door.”

The prison guard scratched his forehead. “I don’t know. I was told there should be a prison guard with him all the time.”

“Get out!” Inspector Peel ordered.

Charlie didn’t turn around, but he heard the heavy metal door clanging shut behind him.

Inspector Peel gave him a very tentative smile. “It’s really very simple, Charlie. You give me information, and if the information is deemed sufficient by my boss, I either reduce your sentence or possibly even let you out in the next couple of weeks. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Nice wasn’t the word. Charlie ached to have the freedom to walk down the road again, to pop into the pub for a pint and to have a bath on his own, without a hundred other men crowded into the large bathroom at the same time.

But Charlie was nervous. This was a big deal, and it went against everything he’d been told growing up. You don’t grass on your own.

Charlie nervously raked a hand through his hair. “All right.”

The Inspector’s eyes narrowed. “You’re really going through with it then? Can I ask what changed your mind this time? You’ve been visited on numerous occasions and every time you told them you weren’t interested in helping our investigations.”

Charlie shook his head and shrugged. “I’ve had enough of being inside. I don’t see why I should take the fall while the people that were responsible go scot-free.”

Inspector Peel studied him silently for a few moments as if he was weighing up whether Charlie was telling the truth.

Charlie needed to keep his nerve. He linked his hands together in his lap so that Inspector Peel wouldn’t see they were shaking, and he stared straight ahead.

Inspector Peel nodded. “Very well. What have you got for me?” he asked as he held his pen above the notepad on the table in front of him.

Charlie took a deep breath and then began to talk. “It’s about the murder of Keith Parker.”

The Inspector smiled feeling very pleased with himself. His boss would be over the moon with a result like this. The Keith Parker case had gone cold on them. He hated open cases as they reflected badly on the whole Police Department. Charlie Williams was small potatoes, but his boss on the other hand…He was the big time. They’d been trying to get Dave Carter for years.

“Go on, Charlie. If this is good stuff, you could be out there breathing in the fresh air in no time.

Charlie felt nervous. He wished he had his brief with him. Although he didn’t really bond with the stuffy, grey-haired suit, at least, the man knew his stuff. Charlie was worried about incriminating himself or the wrong person.

But he’d promised Dave, so he sniffed and then continued, “I was there when Keith Parker was murdered. I saw who pulled the trigger.”

Inspector Peel leaned over the desk eager for Charlie’s next words, “So, was it Dave Carter who pulled the trigger?”

Charlie shook his head. “I wasn’t working for Dave back then. It was Martin Morton who pulled the trigger. I saw him kill Keith.”

For a moment, Inspector Peel was rendered speechless, and then his eyes glowed with excitement. If he could trust Charlie Williams’s testimony and land Martin Morton, he would be in for a promotion. He couldn't just rely on Charlie’s story alone, though. They’d need some concrete evidence.

“Wait here, Charlie. I need to have a word with my boss.”

Charlie looked up, panicked. “Why? Don’t you believe me?”

Inspector Peel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t panic Charlie. It’s good stuff. As long as you answer the questions we put to you, I think this information will guarantee your release.”

T
hey questioned
Charlie for the rest of the day, trying to get the story straight. Charlie kept everything very simple. Dave had told him that was the best way. He didn’t mention any other names, not even any of Morton’s gang. The aim behind this was to neutralise Martin Morton, nothing more.

Charlie felt sick at the thought Martin Morton might find out he had stitched him up, but the choice was between that and jail, and he refused to feel guilty over it because Martin was the one who had ordered Keith to be killed anyway. All right, so it wasn’t Martin Morton who actually pulled the trigger, but Martin was the one who had ordered Keith to be killed, which was the same thing in Charlie’s book as actually killing him.

The police had been offering him a reduced sentence if he rolled on his boss, but not one of them ever specified that his boss had to be Dave Carter.

Charlie couldn’t help smiling to himself. It was one hell of a plan and pretty audacious really. He was glad he was on Dave Carter’s side that was for sure. He wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.

Charlie was a little worried about getting caught out in a lie, but as he saw it, he was already in prison for the foreseeable future, so could things really get any worse? Besides, Dave had said the police would find evidence. They just needed Charlie to point the finger at Martin Morton and nudge them in the right direction

He walked down the prison corridor with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Inspector Peel hadn’t exactly been forthcoming on when he would be released, but they had said it should be within the next week.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his freedom back. He reckoned the first thing he’d do was visit the Blind Beggar for a few beers. Then he’d have a roast dinner at his mum’s and then pie and mash the following day. The prison food had been absolutely atrocious, and Charlie would enjoy putting the weight back on.

As he strolled past the recreation area, he saw Alfie Harris out of the corner of his eye and smirked. Soon he would be out of Harris’s reach for good.

B
ev balanced
Jimmy on her hip and stood by the large living room window. They were waiting for Mary, who was supposed to be arriving any minute. Bev knew it had been a wrench for Mary to leave her little grandson here in Romford.

Jimmy had been an angel. He had settled into a well-contented baby and was oblivious to all the turmoil that been going on around him.

When she caught sight of Mary walking up the road, Bev turned to Jimmy and said, “Look, who’s that? It’s your grandma.”

Jimmy gave her a toothless smile, and his chubby cheeks dimpled.

She opened up the door just as Mary reached the garden path. Mary’s voice cracked as she said, “Oh, hello, my darling boy.”

The smile on Mary’s face grew huge as she saw Jimmy looking healthy and happy in Bev’s arms. She walked quickly down the path and opened up her arms to give Jimmy a cuddle.

“How has he been, Bev?”

“He has been an absolute angel. I suppose we’re lucky he’s so young and doesn’t have a clue what’s going on,” she said as she stepped aside to let Mary enter and then closed the front door behind them.

“Why don’t you take Jimmy in the front room, and I’ll make a cup of tea?

As Bev prepared tea in the kitchen, she could hear Mary cooing over Jimmy.

She couldn’t even imagine the horrors that Mary had been through. Bev remembered Kathleen as a little girl. She’d been bonny in those days and a cheeky little thing but, deep down, she’d been a sweet kid.

It broke her heart to know Mary was going through the same pain she had suffered when she’d lost Claire. At least, Mary had little Jimmy, though, and Bev was prepared to do anything she could to keep them together.

Mary had been an absolute love after Bev had lost her daughter, Claire, to diphtheria. She’d never really gotten over it, but as time passed the horrible torment eased slightly. Hopefully, it would for Mary, too, and she had Jimmy to help her through it.

Bev carried the teapot and cups on a tray back into the living room.

“Thanks ever so much for looking after him, Bev,” Mary said. “I know it’s not easy looking after an infant at our age.”

“Nonsense. It keeps me feeling young.”

Truthfully, Bev had been in her absolute element with Jimmy. She enjoyed taking him out in his pram every day and liked talking to the grandmothers and mothers in the park. She’d been desperately lonely since old Fred had died, and she would never have grandchildren of her own, so she was grateful for this opportunity.

“How have you been, Mary?” Bev asked.

“Not too bad, love. The house feels really strange. Every time the clock chimes five-thirty, I expect Kathleen to walk through the front door… And then I remember.” Mary’s face creased in pain. “I suppose I’ll get used to it in time.”

“Well, I’m quite happy to look after young Jimmy here for as long as you want. I’ll be honest; I’ve loved having him. Jimmy is a good baby, and he sleeps through the night already. You know me, I’ve never been one for sleeping in, so him getting up early doesn’t bother me.”

Mary nodded and then lifted Jimmy onto her hip before coming to sit beside Bev on the sofa. “I hoped you could look after him for a little while longer. Just until I get something sorted. I don’t trust that Martin Morton, Bev.”

Bev stared down at Jimmy’s chubby face. She couldn’t believe anyone would consider hurting such an innocent little soul. “Don’t you worry. I can look after him just as long as you need me to.”

Mary smiled as she looked down at Jimmy. “He does look ever so much like his mum, doesn’t he? When he was born, I was worried he was going to look like Martin Morton, but I swear Jimmy’s eyes are the exact same shade that Kathleen’s were.”

Bev reached over, picked up her tea and took a sip. “He’s certainly going to be a very good looking lad.”

Mary’s gaze didn’t lift from Jimmy’s face as she said, “Yes. He’s special. I know it. He is going to grow up to be a very important man. He’ll be bigger than Martin Morton, and mark my words, Bev, he’ll get revenge for his mother’s death.”

Mary looked up at Bev with tears in her eyes. “I just hope I’m alive to see it.”

Bev felt a tremor of unease. It wasn’t right to bring a child into the world with all that on his shoulders. The poor kid would grow up bitter and twisted.

Jimmy needed a safe environment with people who loved him, not someone who was set on revenge. But then, Bev told herself, Mary was still in shock. She’d only just lost Kathleen so it was understandable she’d react this way. No doubt in time, Mary would mellow, and Jimmy would get the happy childhood he deserved.

T
he following day
, Mary was wandering through Chrisp Street Market. It had almost killed her to leave Jimmy behind yesterday. He was all she had left of Kathleen, but she knew Bev would take very good care of him, and right now that had to be enough.

She’d lost weight over the past few weeks as she never seemed to have an appetite for anything. She knew she needed to keep her strength up if she wanted to be around to see Jimmy grow up, so she decided to pop into Maureen’s and get pie and mash for supper.

No doubt her neighbour, Alice Pringle, would be horrified that she wasn’t eating a home-cooked meal, but Mary had more important things to worry about.

The pie and mash shop was quiet when she entered, and Mary got served quickly. Carrying the parcel of hot pie and mash under her arm, she headed back home. She passed the half-empty stalls as the traders began to pack up.

Old Bob was folding up the tea towels on his stall. She paused and inspected a display of white net curtains but then felt guilty. Every spare penny she had, she needed for Jimmy’s upkeep. She should really make do with her old net curtains for now.

But the lacey-style of the curtains was very attractive, and she’d love a new pair to replace her greying old ones. She paused to have a look at the lace, and as she did so, she heard something that made her stomach turn.

Martin Morton’s voice.

Blood rushed in Mary’s ears, and her mouth grew dry.

He was swaggering along with that brother of his, looking like butter wouldn’t melt. He grinned and laughed at something his brother had said then slapped him on the back. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Bastard.

Before she could think better of it, Mary stuffed her hand in her food parcel and pulled out the hot liquor that was supposed to accompany the pie and mash.

She strode up to Martin, brandishing the liquor in front of her. “Oi, you murdering bastard! Don’t you think you’re going to get away with it. I’ll see you pay for this, Morton.”

And with those words, Mary chucked the liquor all over his expensive suit.

Martin’s face grew red, and a crowd gathered around them. Everyone had horrified looks on their faces, but Mary cackled with uncontrollable laughter. She only wished the liquor had been hotter.

Martin Morton lunged for her, but his brother put an arm out and held him back.

“You stupid bitch,” Martin Morton growled.

“Calm down, bruv,” Tony said, desperately trying to hold his brother back.

“You’ll regret that,” Martin snarled at her, but Mary just couldn’t stop laughing. She knew she was getting hysterical.

Martin slipped through his brother’s arms and grabbed Mary by the neck.

Still, she couldn’t stop laughing. Tears were running down her face as he shook her viciously, trying to throttle the life out of her.

She heard somebody screaming and wondered for a moment whether the noise was coming from her own throat, but then she saw Linda bashing Martin over the head with a handbag. “You get off her. Get off her right now, or I’m going straight to the police!”

Finally, Martin relaxed his grip. The crowd of people that had gathered round were talking in hushed whispers. This would be all over the East End before the day was over.

Martin turned his furious attention onto Linda. “Keep your nose out of it, you interfering little bitch.”

Linda was trembling, but she didn’t back down. “You should be ashamed of yourself for attacking a woman like that.”

Martin scowled, but he didn’t say anything else and allowed his brother to pull him away.

Once they were out of sight, Linda turned to Mary, “Oh my goodness, are you all right? I thought he was going to strangle you.”

Mary slumped against Linda as the girl put her arm around her shoulders. It all seemed so pathetic. All she’d managed to do was get a little bit of liquor on his suit, and he’d gotten away with murdering her daughter. It was hardly tit for tat.

“I’m going to get him for this, Linda,” Mary said. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make him pay.”

M
artin Morton stormed back
to his club and went straight upstairs to the kitchen in his flat. He grabbed a cloth and tried to clean off the liquor splattered all over his expensive suit.

The silly bitch! How dare she talk to him like that. Did she really think she would get away with it? He might not be able to act right now; he’d attracted enough attention from the police, but given time, he would exact revenge on Mary Diamond for her disrespect.

She’d started off as a pain in the arse and had gotten worse and worse.

He’d have to talk to Tim again about putting the fear of God into the bitch, and after that, in a couple of years when everything had died down, he’d slit her throat himself.

“You all right, bruv?” Tony called out from downstairs.

Martin ignored him and continued rubbing the dirty marks on his suit. It was bloody ruined. He should make her pay for it. The stupid cow.

He heard a disturbance downstairs and wondered what his brother was doing down there.

He walked into the landing, stood by the edge of the stairs and peered down. “Tony? What’s going on down there?”

A few seconds passed before Tony appeared at the bottom of the stairs. His tanned skin was paler than Martin had ever seen it, and his eyes were wide as he looked up at his brother.

“You’d better come downstairs, Martin.”

“What for? Can you deal with it?” Martin wasn’t in the mood for any more pathetic little complications today.

“No.” Tony shook his head slowly and then looked over his shoulder. “Martin, the police are here. They want to talk to you about the murder of Keith Parker.”

Martin’s hand froze. He strode into the kitchen and threw the cloth back in the sink. He’d been expecting this. It wasn’t a big deal. He just would have preferred it happened on another day. He was already fuming due to that stupid bitch, Mary Diamond, and he didn’t want to deal with a flat-footed copper asking questions on top of all that.

Martin shrugged, and shouted out, “Fine. Give me brief a ring then.”

Keith’s body may have been found, but by Martin’s reckoning, it had to be pretty decomposed by now, and Tim had gotten rid of the gun, so there was nothing to point back to him. Martin even had a perfect alibi. He had nothing to worry about. Even so, he could do without this headache.

Martin had a lot of pride in his appearance. It was all part of the package and helped him feel confident. “I’ll be right down. I’m just getting changed.”

“There’s no time for that,” a deep voice that sounded vaguely familiar said.

Martin turned back to look and saw Inspector Peel climbing the stairs in front of Tony.

“Hello, Mr. Morton,” he said, walking into the living area. “I’ve found the evidence. You’re going down, my son.”

Martin sneered. He wasn’t worried about Inspector Peel. He was just a jobsworth copper, just like an irritating little fly that wouldn’t go away.

“In your dreams, mate,” Martin said, but then he was stunned as two uniformed officers appeared behind Inspector Peel.

Martin took a step back as Inspector Peel began to read his rights.

“What the bleeding hell are you lot doing? I wasn’t there. I had an alibi, remember?”

“An alibi from your long-suffering wife,” Inspector Peel said. “I didn’t believe it at the time. And now I’ve got the proof you were lying.”

Martin shook his head. His alibi had not been a lie. He had been at home with Babs. He twisted and turned, trying to wrench himself free as the uniformed officers held him, pulling his arms behind his back.

“Get your hands off me,” Martin roared.

“Calm down, bruv. I’ll get your brief. You’ll be out of there in no time,” Tony said. “Just take it easy.”

Inspector Peel smirked and looked at Tony. “Oh, I’m afraid your brother won’t be out so quickly this time. Not when we’ve got the gun that killed Keith Parker with your brother’s fingerprints all over it.”

Tony’s jaw fell open, and he stared at Martin open-mouthed.

Martin shook his head. That wasn’t possible. He hadn't shot Keith. He’d ordered his men to do it, but he’d never touched the gun himself…

Then the memory came back to him. Meeting with Dave… The gun on the table…

“The bastard. It’s Dave Carter. He’s fitted me up for this. He got me to hold the gun, but it wasn’t me. I never killed him.”

Inspector Peel chuckled, and Martin turned on him. “You’re going to regret this. I’m innocent.”

“That’s what they all say, Mr. Morton,” Inspector Peel said as he walked beside the struggling Martin Morton and escorted him out of the club.

D
ave was
in his office at the warehouse on Blocksy Road when Gary burst in with a grin on his face. “He’s been nicked!”

Dave looked up from his paperwork. “About time, too.”

It had taken the police longer than he’d hoped to build their case.

“I just saw the Old Bill leading Martin Morton out of his club. Rumour has it, he’s going down for a long time,” Gary said gleefully.

Just as Gary finished speaking, Brian Moore also burst into the office. “Have you heard about Morton?”

Dave smiled. He may have had to wait longer than he wanted for the police to build their case, but it was worth it. Charlie would be free within days.

Dave leaned back in his chair and looked with satisfaction at Brian and Gary. They’d waited for this day for a very long time.

“It’s been a long time coming, but we’ve done it, boys. We got revenge on that piece of scum for taking out Frank the Face and for leaving poor old Charlie to bleed to death on a pile of rubbish. But our hard work has only just started.”

Gary and Brian exchanged puzzled looks.

“The real work starts now,” Dave said. “We expand, and we annihilate anyone who might want to step into Martin Morton’s shoes.”

Gary grinned. “Right you are, bruv. We’ll be behind you one hundred percent.”

Dave chucked his pen down on the desk. Things had worked out perfectly. With Martin Morton out of the picture, nothing could stop him from taking over the whole of the East End, and that was exactly what he intended to do.