The Feud (50 page)

Joey nodded dumbly. His mum was dead and nothing else really mattered any more.

Sergeant Lineker could barely believe his ears as Eddie Mitchell confessed to murdering his own wife.

‘So, it was mistaken identity? You thought that Mrs Mitchell was somebody else?’

Propped up against his pillow, a tearful Eddie nodded. ‘My daughter’s pregnant. She’s only sixteen and I went there to shoot her boyfriend. I didn’t know that my wife was there and when I saw this big pair of dealer boots poking out from under the bed, I assumed it was Jed, Frankie’s fella. My Jessica and me were so happy. She was pregnant again and we were over the moon. I loved her more than anyone or anything,’ Eddie said.

Sergeant Lineker glanced at his colleague. A full confession was the last thing they had expected to come out of Eddie Mitchell’s mouth. ‘You get some rest. You need to speak to your solicitor tomorrow. We’ll set the wheels in motion.’

As the two coppers left the room, Eddie covered his face with his hands and howled. He had never admitted to a crime before in his life, but this was different. He had murdered his own wife and unborn child in cold blood, and spending the rest of his life in prison was what Eddie felt he deserved.

Stanley walked back into the room where his wife was. ‘The doctor said that we can go home soon,’ he told her.

Joyce sat up and clung on to her husband for dear life.

‘Come on, let it all out,’ Stanley said, as she sobbed on his shoulder. He felt like crying himself, but had to be strong for her sake.

‘What are we gonna go without her, Stanley? She was my life,’ Joyce wept.

Stanley felt his eyes welling up. ‘I really don’t know, but we’ll manage somehow, darling.’

‘I’m gonna pop outside with Sammy to have a fag. Shall I bring you a coffee back?’ Jed asked Frankie.

Frankie nodded. ‘See if you can find Joey for me. He can sit with me while you’re gone.’

Jed nodded and left the room.

‘Your sister wants you,’ he told Joey as he walked past him.

Outside, Sammy handed Jed a cigarette. ‘I might shoot off in a minute. Will you be all right here on your own?’

‘I’ll be fine. Frankie will probably be allowed to go home in the morning, so I’ll stop here with her,’ Jed replied.

Sammy shook his cousin’s hand. ‘You know where I am if you need me. Ring me tomorrow,’ he said, as he went to walk away.

Jed grabbed hold of him. ‘Sam, that thing we done, you must never tell anyone, especially not now. Promise me you won’t?’

‘I swear, you have my word,’ Sammy replied.

Jed leaned against the wall as his cousin walked away. Thank God he’d had the brains to burn them photos he’d stolen as souvenirs. No one but him and Sammy knew the truth. He hadn’t even told his dad.

Jed smiled as he thought back to that night. Murdering Harry Mitchell had been all his idea. He had planned it with precision and, due to his cleverness, they’d got away with it.

In Jed’s eyes, Harry Mitchell had deserved to die. Butch, Jed’s grandfather, had had his life ruined by
Mitchell. Butch had never recovered from being shot in the foot. He walked with a severe limp from that day onwards and spent the latter part of his life living as a recluse.

Jed had plotted the operation from start to finish. He’d recruited Sammy’s younger brother, Billy, and his pals to act as decoys. Six times Jed had driven them over to Harry’s and paid them fifty quid to cause mayhem. The boys had no idea what Jed was up to. He’d told them that the man had knocked him for money.

‘See that house over there, number thirty-one? I want you to hang about outside and make a nuisance of yourselves. Make sure all the neighbours see and hear you, but keep your hoods up at all times so they can’t see your faces. You’ve gotta shout, scream, throw stones, knock on the doors. I need you to be as noisy as you can,’ Jed ordered.

On the night of the murder, Jed had paid the boys their money, driven them back to Essex, then he and Sammy Boy had returned to Canning Town. They knew Harry was in, as they’d seen the lights go on and off earlier.

Jed had chosen Christmas Eve for a reason. He knew there’d be loads of noise on the streets, therefore Mitchell’s shouts and screams would blend in with those of drunken revellers.

At eleven o’clock, Harry’s house was in complete darkness.

‘Let’s give it an hour, make sure the old shit-cunt’s asleep,’ Jed told Sammy.

Sitting across the road in the back of a hooky van, Jed and Sammy amused themselves by secretly poking fun at the merry worshippers heading off to midnight mass. At a quarter to twelve, Jed checked the coast was clear and told his cousin to follow him.

‘Right, put your gloves on and your hood up. Time to give old Harry boy his Christmas present,’ Jed whispered, as they crept through the alleyway that led to Harry Mitchell’s back garden.

Jed knew they’d have no problem gaining entry. He’d done his homework and was aware that Mitchell left the louvres open in the conservatory to let his cat in and out. Jed then expertly removed the louvres one by one, climbed in, then urged Sammy to do the same.

Jed waited until he got to the lounge before he switched his torch on. Spotting the photos of young Harry with a pretty woman, Jed smiled. ‘Once we’ve finished him off, we’ll take a couple of them pictures as souvenirs. We need to rough the place up a bit, make a mess, but we’ll have to do it quietly,’ Jed whispered.

Gesticulating for Sammy to follow him up the stairs, Jed clutched his baseball bat tightly in both hands. He’d waited a long time for this moment and felt high on adrenalin.

Harry’s snoring sounded like a pig snorting and Jed grinned as he tiptoed towards his bedroom. The door was open, and as Jed stood over the sleeping man, he was filled with a mixture of excitement and hatred. Glancing at Sammy, he lifted the bat in the air and smashed it as hard as he could over Harry’s head.

Instinct took over and a dazed Harry staggered out of the bed and lunged at Jed. ‘Who are you? What the fuck do you want?’ he shouted, as his feeble punches failed to connect.

Jed hit Harry once more and laughed as he fell to the floor. ‘Not as strong as you thought you were, eh?’ he goaded.

‘Tie up his arms and legs then shine the torch on him,’ Jed told Sammy.

Recognising the accent was that of a traveller, Harry knew he was in trouble. For many years he’d slept with a gun under his bed and his only hope now was to make a grab for it. With the two blows he’d received to his head, Harry was no match for his fit young attacker. Clocking Harry’s hand creeping under the bed, Jed repeatedly stamped on it with his right foot.

As Harry felt his wrist snap, he screamed out in pain. Sammy tied Harry’s arms up, ‘Who are you? One of the fucking O’Haras? I’m warning you – you kill me and my Eddie will break every bone in your useless pikey body,’ Harry shouted.

Jed laughed as Sammy tied Harry’s legs up. Harry reminded him of an oven-ready chicken, ‘Sorry, did I forget to introduce myself? I’m Jed O’Hara, Butch’s grandson, and this is my cousin, Sammy. I take it you remember my grandfather?’

Annoyed that Harry didn’t reply, Jed booted him in the head. ‘Answer me, you old shit-cunt.’

Harry was in so much pain he could barely speak. ‘What happened with your grandfather was business, nothing personal,’ he croaked.

‘I’ll give you fucking personal,’ Jed spat, tying the gag around Harry’s mouth.

Jed could sense Harry’s despair. Watching him choking, trying to say something, Jed loosened the gag.

‘Please don’t kill me. I beg you not to. If you kill me, you’re signing your own death warrant. The feud between our families ended years ago. To start it up again now will cause an absolute bloodbath.’

Jed tightened the gag once more. He had to finish what he’d come here to do. ‘My grandfather turned into a hermit because of you. You killed his spirit and now I’m gonna kill yours. So go fuck your grandmother.’

As Jed lifted up the baseball bat, Harry began to wriggle like a fish out of water.

‘Hurry up, Jed. Finish him off and let’s get out of here,’ Sammy urged his cousin.

Jed looked into Harry’s petrified eyes and smiled. ‘Happy Christmas. I hope you rot in hell,’ he whispered, repeatedly smashing the bat over Harry’s skull.

As blood sprayed everywhere, Sammy felt queasy. ‘Come on, Jed, that’s enough,’ he said.

Even though he knew Harry was dead, Jed couldn’t stop. His victim’s head was already bashed to a pulp, so Jed started to smash the bat against his teeth.

Frightened, Sammy grabbed Jed and pushed him against the wall. ‘Whaddya doing? The old cunt’s been dead five minutes. We need to get out of here, Jed. If we don’t, we’re both looking at prison.’

The word prison seemed to snap Jed out of his violent trance. Checking he’d left no clues in the bedroom, Jed followed Sammy downstairs.

‘Open a few drawers and throw some stuff on the floor. It has to look like a burglary,’ Jed said, as he stuffed some photos inside his jacket.

Ten minutes later, with the house looking completely ransacked, Jed and Sammy climbed out the same way they’d got in.

‘Excuse me. Do you know what the visiting hours are?’

Jed’s daydream was ended by the woman standing in front of him. ‘Sorry. What did you say?’

The woman repeated her question.

‘I’ve no idea. Ask a nurse,’ Jed told her.

Taking the last drag on his fag, Jed flicked the butt into the air. Everything had turned out OK in the end. Harry was long gone, Jessica was dead, Eddie was looking
at a life sentence, which meant Frankie and the baby were all his.

Unable to stop himself, Jed began to laugh. He couldn’t wait to tell his father that Eddie Mitchell had tried to shoot him, but instead had killed his own wife. For years his dad had banged on about getting his own back on the Mitchells and now, without his dad even knowing, he’d done it for him.

Jed grinned as he strolled back into the hospital. Thanks to him, the feud was finally over.