The Victim (26 page)

Having made enough room to now sit down, Terry gave his legs a rest and thought about his strange encounter with Eddie Mitchell the previous evening. Like the majority of London’s East End, Terry Baldwin had always known who Eddie Mitchell was. Over the years, Terry had attended a couple of functions where Eddie had also been present, but he had never been properly introduced to him before. Having now met Eddie in person, Terry understood the aura that surrounded the man. From his looks to his mannerisms, Mitchell had that something special, but the thing that had surprised Terry the most was Ed’s fairness and integrity. Terry had honestly thought he was a dead man last night, but Eddie had listened to what he had to say and had now given him a chance to save his own bacon.

Staring at the gun that lay beside him on the ground, Terry smirked. He was no mug himself and he couldn’t wait to show Eddie Mitchell his capabilities and prove to him that he had made the right decision by letting him live.

In a boozer over in Southall, Jed O’Hara was extremely drunk and was giving it the large. ‘My old mush will kill that shitcunt Brady when I tell him what’s happened today. Who do these two-bob Irish tinkers think they are, eh? They ain’t fit to clean the boots of us O’Haras.’

Aware that there was a crowd of Irish travellers standing no more than two feet away, Sammy grabbed his cousin’s arm. ‘Come on, Jed. We’re both pissed and we’ve gotta get this horse-box home. We don’t wanna smash the fuckin’ thing up, do we? Your old man will kill us.’

Aware of the Irish travellers glaring at him, Jed pushed Sammy away and marched over to them.

‘When you see your old mucker Paddy Brady next, you tell him from me that Jed O’Hara ain’t finished with him yet. Ex-prize-fighter, my arse, the cunt looks more like a bus driver to me.’

‘I’m a good pal of Paddy’s. Now fuck off, you little shit, before you get badly hurt,’ one of the older Irishmen in the crowd warned Jed.

Jed, being Jed, decided to try and punch the fella. He missed and was quickly escorted away and marched out of the pub by some English travellers who were pals of Jimmy’s.

‘I think I’d better drive,’ Sammy said as Jed got shoved in the driver’s seat.

‘Shut up, I’m fine,’ Jed insisted, turning the ignition.

As Jed pulled out in front of a car without checking his wing mirror and very nearly wrote the motor off, Sammy sighed. It was a long old trip around that A406 and in the state Jed was in, he just hoped that they made it home in once piece.

Alice O’Hara smiled at Georgie’s excited face as she took the iced fairy cakes out of the oven. Georgie would be five in a couple of weeks’ time and today Alice had decided that if Georgie was one day going to secure a sought-after husband, then it was high time her granddaughter learned how to bloody well cook.

‘Hurry, the cakes are ready, boy!’ Alice shouted. Her grandson had had the hump earlier on and had stomped out of the kitchen because Alice wouldn’t let him help ice the cakes. ‘Cooking’s for girls, Harry. Your dad will kill me if he finds out I’ve been teaching you to bake cakes, boy,’ she’d told him.

Leaving her grandchildren in the kitchen stuffing their faces, Alice went into the lounge to make some phone calls. Jimmy’s eldest brother was seriously ill in hospital, Jed and Sammy had gone to Southall and, seeing as none of them had bothered to call her all day, she didn’t know whether they wanted any dinner when they got in or not. She rang Jimmy first. His phone was still switched off, so she then rang Jed.

‘What can I do for you, Mummy dearest?’ her son slurred.

‘How many drinks you had? Who’s driving your father’s new horse-box?’ Alice asked, annoyed.

‘I am! Sammy’s a dinlo when it comes to driving a beast the size of this,’ Jed said, chuckling.

‘I’d do a better job than him. Nearly wrote off a motor and hit the kerb twice already,’ Alice heard Sammy shout out in the background.

‘Just be careful, Jed. Now do you and Sammy want me to cook you any dinner tonight?’

‘Yeah, we’re fucking starving. We’ll probably be about half-hour or so.’

As Alice replaced the receiver, she was hit like a thunderbolt by one of her feelings of doom. Alice believed herself to be a true psychic. She’d been born with the gift, and years ago she’d have travellers visit her from all over the country for advice and readings.

‘Oh my gawd,’ Alice said as she put her hands on her forehead. This was a similar feeling of foreboding to the one she’d had on the day that her Lukey boy had been murdered. She immediately picked up the phone and rang Jed back again. ‘Boy, I’ve got one of me premonitions. Park that horse-box up somewhere and get yourselves a cab home. I ain’t mucking about; I think you’re gonna have a bad accident.’

Jed burst out laughing. ‘We’re gonna die, Sammy boy, we’re gonna die,’ he joked in a silly tone.

‘Please Jed, I know you’re drunk, but please listen to me. Park that horse-box up. Your dad can pick it up tomorrow, OK?’

Aware that his mum had now started crying, Jed decided to humour her to stop her worrying. ‘OK, I’ll park it up and we’ll get a cab back, all right?’

When Jed ended the call, Sammy turned to him. ‘Your mother ain’t no fool when she has one of her funny turns, you know. Perhaps we should get a cab back. I mean, we ain’t got an ’orse in the back or nothing.’

Jed burst out laughing. ‘Are we fuck! I only said that to shut her up. You see, you Sammy boy, you’re a first-class dinlo.’

Terry Baldwin was feeling masses of adrenlin but no nerves whatsoever as he waited for the horse-box to appear. He’d loved his daughter Sally, idolised his grandson Luke, and he could almost taste revenge on the end of his tongue. The O’Haras’ gaff was in a country lane with no street lighting, which meant every motor that came along this time of night usually had its full beam on. Seeing another beam of light heading his way, Terry picked the gun up. As the motor drove past, he put it back down again. Taking his lighter out of his pocket, Terry flicked it so he could check his watch. It was just gone ten, so surely the little bastard wouldn’t be that much longer.

God must have been looking down on Terry, as seconds later he saw another beam heading his way but, more importantly, this time he could hear the sound of a large diesel engine.

Feeling his heart pounding, Terry picked up the gun and stood up. He was clad in black leathers and had a black crash helmet on to match. He was so ready for this and he instantly decided to take a gamble and shoot Jed up close instead of from a distance. If he fucked up, Eddie Mitchell would kill him anway, so what did he have to lose?

Jed and Sammy were both taking the piss out of Alice as the horse-box approached the entrance of the driveway.

‘I’m gonna tell Mystic Meg to hang up her fucking crystal ball when I get in,’ Jed joked.

‘Well, I always believed in your old lady and her bad vibes, but she was definitely wrong this time. ’Ere, considering she thought we were both gonna die in a bad road accident, I hope she’s bothered to cook us some grub. Fucking starving, I am,’ Sammy replied.

Jed laughed. ‘The devil looks after his own, Sammy boy, and with all the conning and thieving me and you have done in our lifetime, we’re definitely immortal.’

Terry Baldwin felt like a starving tiger ready to pounce on its prey as he waited for the precise moment to make his move. The security lights had just come on as the horse-box had pulled onto the drive and Terry had known immediately that it was Jed and not Jimmy driving. Jimmy was thickset and the person driving was thin-faced with a baseball cap on his head. As the horse-box drove past him, Terry stepped out of the shadows. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

Hearing the horse-box pull up outside, Alice O’Hara darted out to the kitchen to dish the boys’ dinners up. Pork chops, Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes, greens and carrots she’d cooked them and even though she was thrilled Jed was home safely, she hoped the little sod choked on his, as that would teach him not to lie to his mother again.

‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ Harry shouted, jumping up and down excitedly.

‘Can I go and see Daddy, Nanny?’ Georgie asked.

‘No, stay ’ere, ’cause he’s parking the horse-box up and he might run you over. He’ll be in in a tick.’

Seconds later, Alice screamed as she heard the unmissable sound of gunshots. ‘Jed, please God, no. Not my Jed,’ she cried as she dropped the tray of roast potatoes and ran to the front door.

Sensing their nan’s fear, Georgie and Harry both began to sob as they chased after her. ‘Daddy!’ they both yelled.

Alice ran towards the horse-box. The security lights were on and, as she got closer, all she could see was the blood and gore splattered against the windscreen on the driver’s side.

‘Jed! Not my baby, not my beautiful baby boy,’ she shrieked.

Overcome by shock, Alice sank to her knees, vomited and then promptly passed out.

‘Nanny, Nanny!’ Georgie and Harry shouted as they prodded and poked her. Realising that Nanny was fast asleep, Georgie decided to take the matter into her own hands.

‘Stay with Nanny while I get Daddy,’ she ordered Harry.

Climbing up on the metal step that led to the driver’s-side door of the horse-box, Georgie tugged it and tugged it until it flew open. As the bloodied body fell on top of her and sent her sprawling to the ground, poor little Georgie screamed louder than she had ever screamed before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ed got up at the crack of dawn the following morning. He’d had a crap night’s sleep and was desperate to know if Baldwin had succeeded in his attempt to kill Jed. Such was Ed’s impatience, he’d even debated whether to ask Joey to visit Joycie late the previous night, so he could have a butcher’s and see if there were any Old Bill lurking about. In the end, though, he’d decided against it. Joey didn’t drive, so Dom would have to be involved as well and as much as Ed liked Dom, he thought it was too risky to involve him.

‘You’re up early. Couldn’t you sleep?’ Gina asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

Eddie sat on the bed next to his pregnant wife, pulled back the quilt cover and laid his head on her stomach. Gina was four months gone now and Ed could hardly wait to become a father again. Having a newborn at his age might seem like madness to some people, but he looked and acted more like a forty-year-old, instead of his true age of fifty-three.

‘I’ve got an early morning meeting, babe. In fact, I’ve got a few meetings today, so I probably won’t be back until teatime. What about you? You going out, or staying in all day?’

‘I might go for a mooch round Lakeside. Most of my clothes don’t fit me any more, so I’m gonna have to get some bigger sizes. I hope I don’t get enormous and then struggle to lose the weight after the baby’s born.’

Eddie chuckled. He’d never met a woman as paranoid about her weight as Gina. ‘It’ll all be worth it when you give birth to a little Mitchell. You should think yourself extremely lucky, you know. There ain’t many women in the world that wouldn’t give their right arm to breed with an ’andsome bastard like me.’

Gina punched him playfully on the arm. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re so full of shit, Eddie Mitchell?’

Ed kissed her gently on the forehead and stood up. ‘You wouldn’t have me any other way, sweetheart.’

An hour later, Ed was sitting in the office of his salvage yard in Dagenham. He had very little to do with the business any more. He’d had a guy called Big Pete running it for him for years, but he liked to keep hold of it in case the Old Bill ever came sniffing around. In Ed’s eyes, every wise man should have at least one legal business to cover their arse.

Eddie had told Terry Baldwin to meet him at the salvage yard at half-seven.

‘Take an hour off, Pete. Go and grab yourself a bit of scran down the café,’ he told his employee.

When Pete left the yard, Ed put his feet up on the desk in the Portakabin and as he often did when he was deep in thought, rubbed the stubble on his chin. At his end, everything had gone to plan the previous night. He and Raymond had stayed in the Bell and had had afters with the landlord and four other geezers, and he knew everything had gone OK with the others, as Stuart had got home at half-two and said both the restaurant and pub were full of people who knew both Gary and Ricky.

Eddie glanced at his watch. It was nearly half-past and there was no sign of Baldwin yet. Wondering if he’d ballsed up and the O’Haras had ended up killing him instead, Ed smirked seconds later as he saw Terry’s Land Cruiser pull into the yard. Ed opened the Portakabin door.

‘Well?’ he asked as Baldwin approached him.

‘Done and dusted,’ Terry replied, grinning.

Ed led him inside and urged him to sit down. ‘Start from the beginning.’

Terry explained exactly what had happened the previous evening.

‘Are you one hundred per cent sure he was dead?’ Eddie asked.

‘Of course I am. I was only about two feet away from him and I blasted him three times in the bonce. I saw his brains splatter all over the windscreen before I ran off. No one can survive that.’

‘What about Jimmy? Did you see him?’

‘No, I ran like a fucking greyhound, but it was definitely Jed and not Jimmy driving. Jimmy must have been with him, as I saw someone in the passenger seat – I saw the silhouette as the horse-box pulled in. You never know, one of my bullets might have gone astray and Jimmy might be dead an’ all.’

‘What about the motorbike you used?’

‘Already ceased to exist. The helmet, leathers, everything’s been torched,’ Terry replied.

‘Good stuff.’

‘So, are we OK now? I’m really sorry about your brothers, Ed, but Luke was my grandson, and I loved him dearly. I know me and you are never gonna be best pals, but I do hope you understand why I had to do what I did.’

Eddie Mitchell ran a hand over his stubble once more. He’d heard of Baldwin in the past. He wasn’t major league like himself, but the more Ed spoke to him, the more taken he was with the guy. Terry Baldwin was fearless, composed and incredibly honest, and in this day and age they were rare qualities to have.

‘Did anybody else, other than Jamie Carroll, know you’d ordered the hit on my brothers?’

‘What do you think? I knew they were your brothers, so I was hardly gonna advertise it, was I?’

Eddie stayed silent for a minute or two. He knew what he wanted to ask Terry, but he also knew if he did, Gary and Ricky would blow a fuse. Deciding to go with his gut instinct, Ed looked Baldwin in the eye.

‘How are you fixed for work at the moment? I reckon I could do with an extra pair of hands working for me.’

Terry stared at Eddie in complete and utter disbelief. For a second he wondered if his hearing had deceived him. Then he wondered if Ed was taking the piss. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’ he asked bluntly.

‘Do I look like a fucking comedian?’ Eddie replied sarcastically.

‘I’d fucking love to work for you, Ed, and I truly mean that. Things have been tough workwise for me the past year or so and I ain’t exactly rolling in it at the moment.’

Eddie leaned across the desk and held out his right hand. ‘We’ll have to make sure the filth don’t come sniffing around ya first over Jed’s murder. As soon as we know everything’s kosher, you can start. It won’t be nothing iffy, you’ll just be collecting dosh and threatening or roughing up any one who don’t pay on time.’

‘If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?’ Terry asked.

‘Go on.’

‘Why are you doing this for me after what I did to your brothers?’

‘Because I know what it’s like to have your daughter’s life ruined by some little cunt like Jed. I also know what it’s like to have somebody you love brutally murdered. I will never rest until I find out who killed my old man. I want revenge for that so much, I can almost fucking taste it.’

‘Thanks ever so much, Ed. I dunno what else to say to you, mate.’

‘Don’t say nothing then. Go on, you can fuck off now. I’ll be in touch as soon as we’re sure the coast is clear. Until then, don’t contact me, OK? And if I need to speak to you at all, I’ll get Stu to call you with a time, then we’ll meet at the Leonard Arms in Rainham.’

Terry Baldwin smiled gratefully and as he walked away, Eddie felt a slight twinge of guilt run through his veins. He just hoped all that life after death shit was a load of old cobblers, because if it wasn’t, his father would currently be turning in his fucking grave.

‘Morning everybody,’ DI Blyth shouted to her colleagues as she walked into her office.

‘The superintendent from Arbour Square rang up about half-an-hour ago. He wants you to call him back,’ said Julie, her young assistant.

Blyth shut the office door, put her takeaway coffee on the table and immediately picked up the phone. ‘Good morning, sir. DI Blyth here.’

Blyth listened intently as the superintendent told her the results of the DNA test. He then explained to Blyth what would happen next. Blyth thanked him, ended the call, then immediately rang up Holloway Prison. She would need to speak to Frankie face to face, and the sooner she got it over with, the better.

Eddie Mitchell arrived at Joanie’s house at quarter to two. He was early for once, and had purposely got there before Gary and Ricky did.

‘Happy birthday for tomorrow, Auntie,’ Ed said, handing her a card and a separate envelope with five-hundred quid stuffed inside. Ed knew Joanie like the back of his hand and she was bound to argue with him for five minutes, telling him she didn’t want his money, but in the end she would take it. He’d already told Stuart the score on the journey to Whitechapel and Ed winked at him as Joanie opened the envelope.

‘I’m not taking that, Eddie. You can take it all back,’ she demanded, shoving the envelope back into his hands.

Stuart tried not to laugh as Ed argued with her. ‘They reckon we’re in for another cold spell next week. Get yourself a new winter coat,’ Ed urged her.

‘It’s nearly March. I’m no spring chicken you know, and the way this arthritis keeps playing me up, I’ll probably be bleedin’ housebound or even dead by next winter, so what do I want a new coat for?’

‘Do you always have to be so fucking cheerful?’ Ed asked her in a sarcastic tone. The thought of losing his favourite aunt just didn’t bear thinking about. He’d been a young boy when his mum had died of TB and Joanie had always been a mother and aunt rolled into one.

The argument over the money continued until Joanie finally gave in. ‘Oh, if you’re gonna drive me mad, give us the bleedin’ envelope back, then. I suppose I can help out some of me friends with their winter fuel bills or something.’

As Joanie walked out into the kitchen to hide it in her special tin, Eddie nudged Stuart. ‘That won’t go towards anyone’s fuel bills. She’ll spend the whole lot down the fucking bingo,’ he said, chuckling.

‘Oi, I heard that. I might have dodgy legs, but there’s sod-all wrong with me ears, you know,’ Joan shouted out.

Laughing, Eddie opened the door to Gary, Ricky and Raymond. ‘So, who’s late today, then?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,’ Ricky replied, laughing.

‘Take these trays up with you. Me plates of meat are giving me gyp today and I can’t be doing with going up and down them bleedin’ stairs,’ Joanie shouted out.

Eddie smiled as he and Stuart took the trays of hot boiled-bacon sandwiches off the kitchen top.

‘Shall I make yous a brew?’ Joanie asked. She knew the boys sometimes preferred to have a little tipple when they were discussing business.

‘No, we’re gonna have something a wee bit stronger today, Auntie. We’ve got something to celebrate,’ Ed replied smirking.

As the apple of her eye walked out the room, Joan made a mental note to watch the main and local news later. She would guess which bulletin was down to her nephew and the boys; she always did.

Frankie said a silent prayer as the screw led her towards the room where DI Blyth was waiting for her. Surely if there was a God, he would ensure Jed got punished for what he had done to her grandfather, she thought to herself.

As soon as Frankie saw Blyth, she knew whatever news she had was not good. ‘Well?’ she asked impatiently as she sat down opposite the DI.

Blyth took Frankie’s hands in her own. She had grown to like the young girl sitting in front of her very much, but there was no point in dressing up the awful truth. Frankie was far too clued-up to believe any bullshit.

‘The results are back and there is insufficient DNA on the samples we tested to give a positive identification to anybody. I’m so sorry, Frankie, I really am.’

Wanting to cry, Frankie chose not to and decided to be stroppy instead. She snatched her hands away from Blyth’s. ‘Can you repeat that in English now?’ she asked sarcastically.

Blyth explained the situation in simplified terms. ‘Look, I know this is a setback, but I can assure you that nobody is giving up on this case. The superintendent in charge is doing his utmost, I promise you that. He was only saying this morning that he is going to try to get a reconstruction of your grandad’s murder on that TV programme,
Crimewatch UK
. Have you ever watched it, Frankie? It’s presented by Nick Ross and Sue Cook and it’s really good at jogging people’s memories and subsequently getting convictions.’

Frankie was far too disappointed and inwardly upset to discuss some poxy TV programme. She stood up. ‘I like you, so please don’t take this personally, but my dad has always said that the police were useless and the only thing they could catch was a cold and do you know what, I make him fucking right.’

Turning on her heel, Frankie stormed out of the room.

Gary, Ricky and Raymond were all elated to hear that Jed had now met his maker. Even though Stuart had never met Jed, he was also thrilled because he knew how the bloke had torn Eddie’s family apart.

‘So Baldwin was absolutely sure he was dead?’ Raymond asked.

‘Yep, he was positive. He blasted him three times in the head, apparently at close range and he even said he was sure he saw his brains splatter against the windscreen.’

‘What brains?’ Gary exclaimed, laughing.

‘Let’s have a drink to celebrate, eh?’ Ricky said, grabbing a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet.

‘We had the local news on the radio on the way up ’ere. There’s nothing on there yet,’ Gary said.

‘Me and Stu did an’ all. I reckon it’s a bit early for anything to be announced. They’ve probably still got the forensics round there fuck-arsing about,’ Eddie replied.

‘Why don’t you ring your mum, Raymondo? She only lives a spit’s throw away and you know how nosy she is,’ Ricky suggested.