East End Trouble (3 page)

K
eith Parker was sweating buckets
, and it had nothing to do with the hot weather. He walked along Blocksy Road and nervously looked over his shoulder. There was no one there. The whole street was deserted.

Old warehouses lined up along Blocksy Road. Occasionally a truck pulled out of one of the gates, but other than that it was pretty quiet, and that was why Dave Carter had picked one of the warehouses as his headquarters.

Keith was heading to the warehouse now.

He should have been over the moon. He was dropping off Dave’s money and picking up thirty quid as a nice little kickback for selling the black-market cigarettes. He had Dave’s money in his pocket, all rolled up and carefully counted.

The trouble was Dave Carter had asked to see him. Usually, Keith handed the money over to one of Carter’s henchmen and arranged to pick up the cartons of cigarettes from them. He never dealt with Dave Carter in person, and now this summons out of the blue had him worried.

People saw Dave Carter as an old-fashioned gangster, polite and courteous. He wasn’t known for violence like Martin Morton. Dave Carter was a businessman, and if you treated him with respect, he treated you the same way.

All that might be true, but Keith had heard stories about people who had chanced their luck with Dave Carter and tried to take advantage of his gentlemanly nature. Those people were never heard of again. Unlike men who crossed Martin Morton, they weren’t tortured or murdered in a showy, grotesque way. They just simply disappeared.

Keith pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow and the back of his neck. He wasn’t only worried about Dave Carter. The thought of Martin Morton finding out Keith was also working for his rival made him feel sick to the stomach.

He shouldn’t have done it, but when the opportunity arose it seemed too good to pass up. All Keith had to do was go round selling the fags in different pubs around the East End. Black-market fags were incredibly popular because they were so much cheaper than getting them from the shops.

There was something in the way Big Tim had looked at him last week that made Keith think that they were on to him. He wasn’t really doing anything wrong, at least, nothing that would hurt Martin Morton. But there was a deep rivalry between Carter and Morton.

Martin Morton thought he owned the whole patch, but Dave Carter had other ideas, and it was the silly sods like Keith who got caught in the middle. He was just trying to earn an honest living. Well, maybe not honest, but it wasn’t as if he was hurting anyone.

When Keith approached the entrance to Dave Carter’s warehouse, he pulled on the collar of his shirt. Perhaps he could tell Dave today that this was the last job he would do for him. If Dave was the gentleman everyone said he was, surely he wouldn’t mind finding someone else to do the job Keith had been carrying out for the past few weeks.

But as he walked forward through the large steel gate that led to the truck loading bay, he had a horrible, sinking feeling that he wouldn’t get out of it that easily.

As he approached the warehouse, Charlie Williams, a tall skinny man with a handsome face, stepped into view. He was clearly the lookout. He wore a suit that had seen better days but had on a smart waistcoat and gold pocket watch.

Charlie nodded at him and then called over his shoulder. “It’s only Keith Parker.” He turned back and nodded at Keith. “How are you, mate? Keeping well?”

Keith shrugged. “Not bad. Yourself?” He wasn’t really in the mood for conversation. He just wanted to get this over with.

The metal rolling door clattered as someone in the warehouse pressed the button to raise it. The noise made Keith jump.

Charlie smirked. “You look like you’re on tenterhooks, Keith. I hope you haven’t got a guilty conscience. Have you done something silly?”

Keith blinked and looked up at Charlie. “Silly? I ain’t done nothing. I’m an honest man.”

“I’m just messing you about, Keith. Don’t take things so seriously.”

As Keith followed the man into the cavernous warehouse, he was glad of the cool and dusty air inside. It was baking outside today.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the empty storage hall towards a small room at the side that used to be used as the security man’s office but was now Dave Carter’s private headquarters. Carter didn’t go in for show, unlike some of the other gangsters Keith could mention. Dave Carter was a practical man, and the minimalist space suited him down to the ground.

Dave was sitting talking to one of his men when Keith entered.

He looked up and smiled. “Nice to see you, Keith. Let us see the colour of your money.”

Keith shivered as the sweat on the back of his neck cooled. He was far more comfortable dealing with one of Dave’s minions. It was easy to collect the cigarettes from them and pay them their share of the money. But for some reason today, Dave Carter had insisted on seeing Keith in person. And that scared the living daylights out of him.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Carter,” Keith said, trying to smile. He dumped the rolls of money on the desk. “It’s all there. I’ve counted it more than once.”

Dave nodded slowly and then brought his fingers together in a triangle beneath his chin as he sat forward and leaned on the desk. “Thank you, Keith. I appreciate your contribution.” He stared at Keith hard for a few moments, and Keith felt his knees wobble.

At this rate, neither Dave Carter or Martin Morton would need to do him in. The way his pulse was pounding he thought he’d probably have a heart attack before either of them could get to him.

“I hope everything’s to your satisfaction, Mr. Carter,” he said, his eyes nervously flicking about the room as he realised that another two of Dave Carter’s goons had appeared out of nowhere.

“Absolutely, Keith,” Dave Carter said and peeled off a couple of notes from the cash rolls Keith had given him. He held the money out in front of him.

As Keith reached out a hand to take the money, he saw to his embarrassment, he was shaking.

“Thank you very much,” Keith mumbled.

“We’ve been hearing a few rumours,” Dave Carter said. “About Martin Morton.”

“Martin Morton?” Keith stammered, and his mouth went dry. “What rumours would they be?”

“You seem nervous, Keith,” Dave Carter said. He looked the epitome of cool. He was dressed in a full suit jacket and tie, but he didn’t look the least bit hot and flustered. Keith on the other hand, had started sweating again.

“Nervous? Not me. Why would I be nervous?”

Dave Carter gave a smile that made Keith’s stomach flip over.

“I’m a fair man, Keith. As long as you keep doing good work for me like this, you’ll continue to be paid well. But a little dicky bird has told me you’ve got a foot in both camps. Are you working for Martin Morton?”

Keith didn’t know how to respond. It was pretty much common knowledge that Keith had worked for Martin Morton in one way or another since he left school. He’d never exactly been a player, only taking on odds and ends whenever Martin needed someone for a low-risk job.

He’d never been involved in anything violent, and although he broke the law on occasion, it was never anything that Keith considered really bad. If he lied and said he had nothing to do with Martin Morton, Dave Carter would be sure to find out. On the other hand, this could be a test to see if Keith was going to be honest with him.

If Dave Carter really did deserve the reputation of a gentleman gangster, then perhaps Keith should tell him the truth and throw himself on his mercy.

“I’ve worked for Martin in the past, Mr. Carter. I’ve done a few jobs for him here and there.”

Keith waited anxiously for Dave Carter’s response.

For a minute or two, Dave Carter said nothing and just stared at Keith. Then finally, he said, “Do you understand what a conflict of interest is, Keith?”

Keith shook his head. “Not really,” he stammered and tugged at his collar.

“Well, you see, Keith, it’s like this, Martin Morton is my competition. I can’t have people working for me and passing on certain information to him. That wouldn’t do at all. Do you understand me?”

Keith nodded frantically. “I’d never tell anyone anything about your business, Mr. Carter. Of course, I wouldn’t.”

Dave Carter gave a single nod, but his eyes didn’t leave Keith’s face.

Keith looked around the room desperately. “I’d never betray any of you lot. I’m not a complicated man. I just want to earn a few bob to look after my family.”

“That’s good to hear, Keith. I think I can trust you, can’t I?”

“Of course, you can. I’m completely trustworthy.”

Keith heard one of the men laugh behind him. He turned around, but not fast enough to see who it was. His heart was thumping in his chest.

“All right then, Keith. I’ll see you next week,” Dave Carter said.

Keith reached out for the nearest chair to support himself. His legs were wobbling like crazy. “Is that it? I can go?”

Dave Carter smiled. “Yes, Keith, you can go.”

A
fter his encounter
with Dave Carter, Keith needed a drink — a strong one. His hands still hadn’t stopped shaking. It wasn’t as if Dave Carter had threatened him exactly, but there was something about the look in the man’s eyes that terrified Keith. People might refer to him as the gentleman gangster, but Keith thought there was a monster lurking underneath the surface.

He walked up the Whitechapel Road and headed straight for the Blind Beggar. He ordered a pint and a whisky chaser and downed his whisky straightaway.

“Cor blimey, Keith,” Brian Epswhistle said. He was standing beside Keith at the bar.

Brian was a regular. If he wasn’t in the Blind Beggar, he could be found in the betting shop on Victoria Road. He wasn’t a bad sort, but Keith didn’t fancy talking to him today. He felt like he never wanted to talk to anyone again in case he let the wrong thing slip.

“Do you want another, Keith? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Molly, who was working behind the bar.

Keith nodded, and as the whisky hit his bloodstream, he felt himself start to relax. Dave Carter hadn’t actually threatened him. In actual fact, he’d said he was pleased with the work Keith had done for him. There was no real reason for Keith to be so frightened.

“I’ve just had a tough morning, that’s all,” Keith said picking up the whisky glass as soon as Molly had put it down in front of him.

“It looks like it,” Brian said. “I take it Martin Morton’s men caught up with you then?”

Keith dropped his glass, and it smashed on the floor.

“Oh for God’s sake, be careful,” Molly said irritably and reached for the dustpan and brush behind the bar.

“What did you say?” Keith asked Brian in a whisper.

“Martin Morton’s men,” Brian said. “They’ve been asking after you.”

“When was this?” Keith’s pulse rate was galloping along. This day had just turned from bad to worse.

“Not sure. Old Bob mentioned it this morning.”

Keith picked up his pint, planning to take it over to the table and get a bit of peace and quiet, so he could try and make sense of the situation.

It wasn’t good. He couldn’t think of any reason why Martin Morton’s men would be after him other than the fact they’d found out he was working for Dave Carter.

“Maybe they’ve just got a job for you,” Brian suggested cheerfully “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” He slapped him on the back.

But Keith knew he was wrong. This was definitely something to worry about.

He was carrying his pint over to a table in the corner of the room when the door to the bar opened, and Keith got the fright of his life. Standing in the doorway and blocking out the sunlight stood Big Tim and Red-haired Freddie.

Keith froze where he was in the middle of the pub as Tim turned his attention to him and smiled. “There you are, Keith. We’ve been looking all over for you.”

Keith felt his whole body tremble as Big Tim and Red-haired Freddie walked towards him with big grins on their faces.

“Be a good lad and drink up, why don’t you?” Big Tim said, looking down at Keith. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I thought we could take a drive.”

“A drive?” Keith’s lower lip trembled.

“Yes, out in the country somewhere.” Red-haired Freddie leaned close to Keith so that he could whisper in his ear. “Somewhere nice and quiet.”

“
I
look
like a bleeding squashed sausage in this thing!” Linda said, looking at herself in the full-length mirror in her mum’s bedroom.

“No, you don’t. Stop making such a fuss. It’s one of my best dresses. You just need a nice pair of heels to set it off,” Kathleen insisted, eyeing her friend critically.

Linda was wearing a little black dress. On Kathleen, it draped over her curves and looked shapeless. Kathleen had always thought it made her look older than she was, but the dress made Linda look all boobs and backside. It clung to every curve, and Linda had lots of curves.

Linda looked close to tears as she tugged on the dress. Her cheeks were flushed. “A pair of bloody heels aren’t going to make any difference. There is no way I am wearing something like this in public.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. I was only trying to help,” Kathleen said irritably, scowling at her friend. Just recently Linda seemed to have developed a backbone, and Kathleen didn’t like it one bit. She was used to her friend looking up to her and thinking she was the font of all knowledge, so she didn’t appreciate this sudden change.

“I suppose now you’ll say you’re not coming to the club tonight because you’ve got nothing to wear.”

Linda struggled to unzip the dress herself. “I said I would come, didn’t I? I will just wear one of my own dresses.”

“You’ll look like a right square,” Kathleen mumbled under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Kathleen picked up her eyeliner pencil and carefully drew a line close to her lashes. She sat back at Linda’s mother’s dressing table, pleased with her new look. She’d seen it in a magazine about film stars.

She turned to her friend. “Well, at least, let me do your makeup.”

“Okay,” Linda said as she pulled a yellow cotton dress over her head and then sat on the edge of the bed,

As Kathleen applied some blush to Linda’s cheeks, Linda said, “Are you going to see Martin again? I don’t know how you can be so brave. I would be terrified of that Babs Morton.”

“She doesn’t scare me,” Kathleen said and picked up the eyeshadow. “Besides Martin has told me he’s just biding his time before he leaves the nasty cow.”

“He’s going to leave his wife for you? But what about their children?”

Kathleen slammed down the eyeshadow brush. “You’re so naive Linda. Their marriage isn’t working anymore. He stayed with her for the sake of the children, but now it’s time he had some happiness himself.”

Linda kept her mouth shut as Kathleen applied some glossy lipstick. When Kathleen was finally satisfied with her handiwork, she put her hands on her friend’s shoulders and turned her towards the mirror.

The makeup had worked wonders on Linda. She never normally wore any as her mother said it made her look like a trollop, but the blusher had given her clear skin a warm glow, and the eyeshadow had made her big, brown eyes look even larger.

Linda beamed happily. “Thanks for doing my makeup, Kath. It looks great.”

Kathleen put the lid back on the lipstick with a click and handed her friend a pair of cream heels. “You do look nice, Linda. Maybe we’ll find you a man tonight, eh?”

Linda giggled. “Shall we have a glass of Mum’s sherry?”

“No,” Kathleen said, standing up. “Let’s get round to the club now, before it gets too busy. Martin told the bar staff to give me free drinks whenever I want. I’m sure I can get you some too. “

“Oh, lovely,” Linda said as she followed Kathleen out of the bedroom like a faithful puppy.