The boy grinned. ‘It’s a knack, mate.’
He opened the door and looked over the interior.
‘Nice bit of leather but it don’t half stink, Binky. What have they done with it?’
The fat man shrugged, making his enormous belly wobble. ‘Fuck knows.’
The boy walked round and opened the boot. The stench became heavier and they both looked down at the decaying body.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Binky! Whoever wanted this crushed had good bastard reason, didn’t they? Why didn’t you check the motor over yourself?’ Simon was holding a handkerchief to his mouth. ‘This is gross.’
Binky stared down at his old mate Tommy Broughton and sighed heavily. ‘I can easily shove him in one of the wrecks and get shot. But do you still want the car, Si?’
He shook his head. ‘Do I fuck. Who is it anyway?’
Binky held up his hands. ‘How should I know?’ He slammed the boot and spat into the dirt, hawking deep in his throat. ‘Ugh! Fucking stinks.’
Simon walked away from the car and opened his coat, flapping it as if to dispel the stench.
‘Forget it, Binky. I ain’t into all that.’
‘Fair enough, I’ll shunt it later, when it’s dark. See you then, mate.’
Simon waved as he drove out of the yard at speed. Binky went into the shed that passed for his office. It was full of girlie photos and empty lager cans.
He lit a small cigar and puffed on it to take away the foul taste in his mouth. Then, picking up his mobile, he dialled a number.
‘Hello, Benny mate, Binky here. I think I might have something of interest to you. Can you nip down to me yard?’
He was going to make a few quid off this fucking car if it killed him. Plus, Tommy Broughton had been a mate. Whoever topped him had better have had a good reason.
Binky planned to find out what that reason was.
Chapter Sixteen
‘It was Tommy Broughton all right. And from what I’ve heard it was Patrick who killed him.’ Kate listened to Benjamin with half an ear. She had already guessed that Pat was behind the killing. It fitted somehow with what she had already pieced together.
‘I got Binky to crush him while I was there. The car belonged to Jimmy Pierce, the slag. He was working with Tommy on the tuck-up so he must be a worried man. He’s lost two mates and found a third, all in twenty-four hours.’ Boarder chuckled richly. ‘Teach him to play with the big boys, won’t it?’
Kate felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach. She knew Patrick was capable of murder, she had always known that. But now she was implicated too. She knew who had disposed of the body and how it had been disposed of. She also knew why.
She was an accessory after the fact.
Her stomach revolted against what she was doing, yet she knew she would carry on with it all. She had to, for Patrick’s sake. Tiredly, she rubbed at her eyes.
Benjamin quietened. He had forgotten that she wasn’t one of them. That she was a Filth. He had assumed that as she had taken on Patrick’s mantle she would automatically take the heat that went with it.
He studied her closely. ‘You OK?’
She nodded.
‘Listen, Kate, Patrick would have had good reason to do what he did, remember that.’
‘I’ll remember. So Tommy’s gone then?’
‘No one will see him again,’ Benjamin promised. ‘Patrick must have dumped him in Pierce’s motor to teach him a lesson. Good idea really. I mean, if you want to make a point there ain’t many better ways I can think of.’
‘How are the other two faring?’
‘They’re in complete terror,’ Benjamin grinned. ‘Little Colin knows the score. He’s keeping them on their toes nicely. We should have a result in no time. Boris is going to look for them, ain’t he? Stands to reason. All we have to do is wait until he puts his face about then we can pounce.’
‘Aren’t you frightened of him? Everyone else is.’
The large man shrugged nonchalantly. ‘The Russians don’t scare me. They’re just cowboys who think that London is another gold rush. Fuck them. We can work with them or without them. We know our job. Nah, they don’t scare me, Kate, and they never scared Patrick.’
‘From what I understand, this Boris is a psychopath.’
‘Listen, they say that about me and Patrick, but we ain’t,’ Benjamin explained. ‘It’s just a front we put on that gives us a bit of clout with other faces. It’s good business, that’s all. If people think you’re a head case you get quicker results and get served first in certain pubs. End of story.’
Kate didn’t answer him.
‘Come on, let me buy you some lunch, eh? You look like you could do with a stiff drink.’
She smiled gratefully and followed him to his car. They were both unaware that they were being observed.
Natasha Linten was in the Wheatsheaf and she was drunk. Seriously drunk. As she poured yet another large Bacardi down her throat she felt an urge to vomit. Taking deep breaths, she steadied herself against the bar.
‘Sit yourself down, love, before you fall down.’
The landlady, Marlene, was kind but wary. She knew that Tash could turn on a coin. Like most of the girls and women who frequented the pub, she was known locally as a dog and Tash certainly lived up to her namesake, from her poodle-like hairdo, long, streaked and scraped up on to the top of her head, to her baggy-kneed leggings and tight Lycra top. The ensemble was finished with a leather coat that had obviously seen better days.
She stumbled to a nearby table and sat down. The three men already sitting there started to move away from her, deliberately excluding her from their company and conversation. Tash was not so drunk she didn’t pick up on the vibes all around her. She looked into the nearest man’s face.
‘All right, Billy?’ Her voice was aggressive.
‘Go home, Tash, you’re pissed,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘Go home to your kids.’
‘Ain’t got me kids. Been took away. Rotten bastards.’ Her voice was full of self-pity.
‘Not before fucking time either, you slag.’ Billy’s son David spoke loudly as if she was deaf and might not understand him.
She tried to focus her eyes on him. ‘Bollocks to you, mate. I loved my kids, they was me life.’ She really believed this in her drunken state.
‘Your poor kids are probably having the first decent day of their lives, Tash. Fuck me, you are in a state. Go on, piss off somewhere else.’
Oblivious to him, she took a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her coat and lit one up. Drawing the smoke into her lungs, she gave an almighty cough and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her coat.
The men looked at her in disgust.
‘I got nothing left now. Lost me kids, me bloke . . .’ She was on the verge of tears. ‘Even lost me few quid, I have. Fucking social workers, why don’t they go and look after the really neglected kids? Why pick on mine?’
David finished his beer and stood up. ‘Another round?’
The men nodded.
‘Mine’s a Bacardi, thanks.’
David stuck his face close to Tash’s. ‘You’ll get fuck all. Now piss off, you scummy whore.’
She looked up into his face and sighed. ‘Fuck off, wanker. I don’t need you lot to tell me what I am. I
know
what I am, mate, and I like being what I am. So bollocks to you.’
She stood up unsteadily. ‘You make me laugh. I know all about you lot. I know everything about everyone.’ She looked from David to his father Billy and sniggered. ‘Oh yes, I know what you cunts get up to in Suzy’s flat, remember that, Billy Reilly. You fucking better remember that I know that.’
She looked triumphant as she swayed precariously in front of them. ‘Now, as I said, mine’s a Bacardi.’ She was staring at Billy as she said this and David Reilly looked at his father closely.
‘What’s she on about, Dad?’
Billy waved him away. ‘How the fuck should I know?’ he said irritably. ‘She’s off her face, silly mare. Get her a fucking drink and then she’ll piss off.’
Tash listened and started laughing. ‘I’ll piss off then, will I, Billy? I’ll piss off when I’m good and ready.’ She belched and peered at the man sitting next to him. ‘Oh, got Noncey Norman with you today. You’ll miss my kids, won’t you, Norman?’
Somewhere in the back of her drink-fuddled brain, Tash was aware that she was going too far. But the course was set now. She was going to pay back a few debts today. When she had first got drunk she had sought oblivion, a few laughs, but their snide remarks had turned her good-natured camaraderie into vindictiveness.
At least, that was how Tash saw it.
David felt the change in the atmosphere and looked from his father to his uncle.
‘What’s she going on about? Why will you miss her kids, Norm?’
The older man shrugged inside his donkey jacket.
‘How should I know? Look at the state of her. Fuck off, Tash. Go home, girl, and sleep it off.’
‘David, will you just go and get the drinks, please?’ his dad asked, sounding annoyed.
David walked up to the bar and ordered but he kept an eye on the men at the table. Billy was leaning towards Tash and wagging a finger in her face. David couldn’t hear what he was saying but he saw Tash punch his father’s hand away and laugh defiantly. He came back to the table with three pints of lager.
‘Where’s me drink?’ Tash’s voice was even more slurred now.
‘You get nothing. Now, for the last time, Tash, will you
fuck off
?’ David shouted over to Marlene behind the bar, ‘Why don’t you bar her and her fucking cronies? Slags the lot of them.’
Wiping her large rough hands on a tea towel, the landlady made her way over to the table. She took Tash by the arm. ‘Come on, love, let me get you a cab home, eh?’
Marlene was eighteen stone and known to have a punch like an Irish navvy. She needed a rep like that, running a hard pub, and she was respected by the men and women alike who frequented her establishment. She also kept a sawn-off under the bar like most publicans in the area.
Tash shrugged her off aggressively. ‘Fuck off, will yer! What is it with you lot today?’ She pulled out her purse and opened it with difficulty. ‘I got money. I can buy me own fucking drinks.’
The older woman shook her head. ‘Not in here you can’t, not today. You have had enough, lady. Now don’t make me throw you out, dear, I really don’t want to have to do that.’
Marlene’s voice was friendly but there was an underlying threat to it that was wasted on Natasha who was too drunk to care.
‘They took me kids. Even me new one, what’s his name . . .’ Tash waved her hands around as she tried to remember. ‘You know who I mean. He’s lovely he is, right little hard man already.’
Marlene placed her hands under the girl’s oxters and pulled her from her seat. In seconds Tash was standing up and being steered towards the door.
‘Come on, love, we’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Fucking bar her, the slag! At least those kids ain’t got to put up with her any more.’ David’s voice pierced Natasha’s alcoholic haze.
Throwing Marlene off, she ran back to the men’s table. Pointing a none too clean finger at them, she said loudly, ‘Shame on you.’
She stared at Billy and Norman. ‘Tell him - go on, tell him about Suzy’s place and then see what he has to say about me, you pair of old wankers!’
Billy was up and out of his seat in the blink of an eye. Taking her by her large topknot, he dragged Tash physically from the pub. He threw her through the double doors and she landed heavily on the tarmac of the car park. At that point he started kicking and punching her.
It was over in seconds. David and Marlene had pulled him off and Natasha lay bleeding and dazed on the ground.
‘Who’s rattled your bleedin’ cage, Billy? The girl’s out of her brains. You should have ignored her.’ The landlady’s voice was full of censure.
Billy spat on to the tarmac, breathing heavily. ‘Well, she gets on my bleeding nerves. Drunken whore, with her big trap going all the time.’ Then he stalked back into the pub, leaving his son staring down at Natasha who had fallen asleep where she lay.
‘I’ll get her a cab. Fucking pub’s not worth the hag.’ And Marlene went back inside.
David studied the young woman with her bad skin and teeth and the remains of too much make-up on her once pretty face. She started to vomit and turned on her side instinctively.
The sight made his own stomach revolt and he walked back into the pub hastily. There he sat with his father and uncle, drinking and chatting, but what Tash had said stayed with him for the rest of the day.
Evelyn wiped Patrick’s face with a cool wet cloth and was gratified to see that he had a bit of colour in his cheeks. She hoped against hope that they would operate on him soon, so everyone could finally relax and get on with their lives.
Turning away from the bed, she pulled herself up a chair, just as a young man walked in with a chart and a fresh drip bag. Eve smiled at him and got out her knitting. She watched as he changed the drip and took Patrick’s obs. Five minutes later he was gone.
Eve sat knitting and watched the ward around her. Through the glass walls she could see the life of the ICU. It was more interesting than sitting looking at Patrick who was, to say the least, not very good company at this time.
She was knitting herself a jumper, a bright red and green baggy jumper for the winter. It was double knit so it would wash well, and be exceptionally warm. As Eve grew older she found the cold less and less bearable - not like Lizzy her granddaughter who would traipse out in six feet of snow in open-toed sandals!
Eve smiled at the thought, and stood up. Her legs were cramping - another sign of old age.
She walked stiffly out of the ward and down to the tea machine. As she put in her money, she saw the young doctor again, only this time he had taken off his white jacket and was talking loudly on a mobile phone. Eve could see signs everywhere asking people to turn off their phones because of the machinery in ICU.