Slur: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 1 (20 page)

‘I know,’
said Vinny, taking her in his arms.

They
remained locked together for several minutes, Julie feeling consoled by his
silent embrace. It was as though Vinny could home in on her feelings, knowing
that she didn’t want to hear any more false assurances that things would get
better, that her parents would forgive her, or that justice would be done in
the end. What use would those utterances be? The only thing that could help her
now would be proving Les guilty and at the moment that seemed further away than
ever.

She was
relieved that Vinny had allowed her those few moments of silence, but when he finally
spoke, it wasn’t to offer any vain hope through words that held no real meaning.
Instead his words were full of meaning and determination as he said. ‘I’ve got
an idea. I think it might help.’

Saturday 20
^th
September 1986

The man was tall and dark with a menacing air about him. He
mingled easily in the surroundings of the Blue Macaw, accustomed to the
decadence and sleaze that was commonplace in his line of work. He hardly
noticed the scantily dressed women with their heavily made-up faces chatting to
aggressive looking men covered in tattoos and scars, and blowing endless
streams of smoke as they flirted.

To him it
was just a way of life; in some ways he could say he enjoyed it. It gave him a
chance to lose himself, to explore that other side of him, the sinister side. The
man circulated, absorbing his environment but taking care not to appear too
obvious. He’d tried to buy drugs in several nightclubs during the last couple
of weeks, but it was always the wrong dealer.

The man
wanted one person in particular, and he was pleased that tonight he had found
that person, Les Stevens. He recognised him from the photographs that he had seen.

After a few
minutes he noticed a slightly built man flitting from person to person. He’d
also noticed him earlier talking to Les. He reminded him of a whippet. There
was always a whippet in these places; the type of man who was nice to all the
right people, the people with power, fearful of upsetting them, but at the same
time hoping to gain respect because of his connections.

The man
knew that he could use the whippet to try to get to Les and it wasn’t long
before he caught his attention. As their eyes locked he motioned for the whippet
to approach his table. He knew the whippet would obey; the man was too imposing
to ignore.

‘What’s
your name?’ he asked the whippet.

‘Ernie,’ he
replied offering his outstretched hand, anxious to please.

‘And
yours?’ asked Ernie.

‘Dan.’

‘Dan who?’

‘Dan is all
you need to know!’

‘Oh,’ was
the only word Ernie could muster.

‘You a
regular here?’ asked Dan.

‘Oh yeah.’

‘So you
know all the movers and shakers then do you?’

‘Might do,’
said Ernie.

Dan guessed
what was troubling Ernie and was quick to point out, ‘I’m not a copper, don’t
worry. I just need to get hold of something and I thought you might know where I
can get it.’

‘Oh yeah,
what is it you want then?’

‘Uppers.’

‘Yeah, I
can get hold of them for you, but it’ll cost.’

‘How much?’

‘Whatever
he charges, plus an extra tenner to me for making the introduction.’

‘OK, go for
it.’

Dan
watched, amused, as Ernie shuffled eagerly through the crowds towards Les. Dan
knew that a direct approach to Les was out of the question. Les, a hardened
drug pusher, would be far too cautious for that.

It wasn’t
long before Ernie returned and signalled for Dan to follow him.

‘This is
him,’ said Ernie when they reached Les.

‘You after
some uppers?’ asked Les.

‘Yeah,
that’s right.’

‘What’s
wrong with your usual supplier?’

‘I’ve just
moved up from London. Things were getting a bit hot down there so I had to get
out quick.’

‘Oh yeah,
how hot? What happened?’

Dan could
tell that his obvious Mancunian accent had aroused Les’s suspicion.

‘Coppers nicked
a few dealers. It was getting harder to get hold of anything and a few users were
nicked as well. I didn’t want to take any chances so I came up here. I’m from
Manchester anyway, but a lot of people have moved on since I was last here.’

Les
swallowed the tale. ‘Right, before we do the deal, no fuckin’ hand shakin’ or anything,
right?’

‘Do I look
stupid?’ asked Dan.

‘Right, OK,
if anyone asks you’re just a mate who knows me from the club. Don’t let anyone
see the drugs or the money, but if anyone does ask, you were just lending an
old mate a few quid right, and the drugs have got nowt to do with me.’

‘Sure, I
know the score.’

The deal was
carried out. ‘Cheers mate. I’ll know where to find you again,’ said Dan.

‘Yeah, I’m usually
in here or the Hacienda,’ Les replied.

As Dan
turned to walk away, he noticed Ernie the whippet. He couldn’t let such a weak
man put one over on him. He had to stamp his authority at the outset if he was
going to deal convincingly with these people again.

‘And you
can fuck off if you think you’re gonna screw a tenner out of me, you fuckin’
worm!’ Then, pointing his finger aggressively at Ernie for Les’s benefit, he
added. ‘I might have just arrived here, but everyone will soon find out who I
am, so just fuckin’ watch yourself.’

He strode
away, nodding at Les while noting his enjoyment at his treatment of Ernie. Les
had taken it all in, hook, line and sinker. He just needed to deal with him a
few more times now to gain his complete trust, then he could make his final
move.

--------------------

Saturday
20
^th
September 1986

It wasn’t long
after that before Ernie also left the Blue Macaw. Les watched as he
disappeared. He had been searching for Ernie for a couple of weeks now, but it
seemed that he had been keeping a low profile for whatever reason, probably
owed somebody money knowing him. Les wanted to follow straightaway, but he had a
few customers awaiting his attention, and he couldn’t resist the lure of easy money.
Besides, he couldn’t afford to turn customers down; he didn’t want them to take
their business elsewhere.

Unbeknown to
Les though, Ernie had been on his way to an important meeting with Leroy Booth,
a local gangster and hard man. Ernie had been working for Leroy for several
weeks, hence his low profile. Leroy had found that Ernie was a useful pawn due
to his meek demeanour. Unlike Leroy and his bully boys, who were forever being
pulled by the police, Ernie had the knack of evading suspicion. Leroy had
therefore put him to work in a number of areas but advised him to continue his
usual activities. Part of Leroy’s plans were to find out who his rivals were in
the drugs supply chain and Ernie had provided him with some very handy information
lately.

As soon as Les
had finished with his customers he sped after Ernie. Outside the club he could
see him a couple of hundred yards down the road. Les quickly caught up with
him.

‘Ernie!’ he
shouted as he drew closer. ‘I want a word with you.’

His voice
belied the contempt that he felt within.

Ernie swung
around, suspecting nothing.

‘Hiya Les,
what is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s a bit
delicate. We’d be better off out of the way so no-one can hear us. Come down
here and I’ll tell ya.’

Ernie
complied with his instruction as Les knew he would, because Ernie was always
keen to find new ways of gaining information, respect or both. In his eagerness
Ernie unwittingly allowed Les to guide him into a side road followed by a shop
doorway, which was deserted at this time of night. Then Les sprung his
surprise, taking Ernie’s arm and twisting it up his back in an arm-lock.

‘You fuckin’
dickhead!’ he snarled. ‘Why don’t you learn to keep your big mouth shut?’

He could
sense Ernie’s pain and confusion as he stammered, ‘W-w-what have I done?’

‘At the
flat, you prat! You mouthed off to that Jacqueline.’

‘I don’t
know what you mean. Who’s Jacqueline?’ Ernie pleaded.

‘You know,
that bird that was there last time you came round. Why did you open your fuckin’
big trap in front of her?’ As he spoke he twisted Ernie’s arm tighter up his
back.

‘Please
Les, you’re hurting me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘The drugs
dickhead! Why did you have to let her know what we were up to?’

‘Shit Les,
I didn’t realise. I thought she knew. I’m sorry but I thought she was your
bird.’

This
angered Les more. ‘Fuck off! Why would I want an ugly cow like her, you moron.’
He released Ernie’s arm and shoved him against the shop door.

Ernie
stared at him, horrified, on realising his mistake. He had no choice but to
wait while Les decided his fate. Ernie didn’t have to wait long until Les
administered his punishment, kicking and punching savagely. 

It was
difficult for Les to get at him though; the little wimp had curled into a ball
and squeezed into a corner of the shop doorway. When Les grew tired of his
exertions, he dragged Ernie to his feet and held a knife to his throat. Now he
was really beginning to squirm!

‘In future
keep your big mouth shut, right!’

Despite his
contempt of Ernie, Les had planned to leave it at that. In fact, he was so sure
of his hold over Ernie that he hadn’t challenged him at the flat straightaway;
he was more concerned with how Jacqueline would react if she realised that
Ernie was trying to buy drugs from him. And even now, he was confident that
Ernie would be so petrified by his threat, that he daren’t utter a word to
anybody. That was until Ernie made his second mistake; he opened his mouth
again.

‘What about
the girl? What if she says something?’

Les was so
hyped up by the thrill of violence that he replied instinctively. ‘She won’t,
not now.’

He cringed
as a look of recognition flashed across Ernie’s face. Ernie knew what had
happened to Jacqueline. Maybe he hadn’t seen it on the news with him being NFA
or maybe he had and just hadn’t realised until now that it was the same girl.
Either way, it left Les with no choice; he had to dispose of Ernie as well.

--------------------

Tuesday
7
^th
October 1986

‘Julie,
you’ve got to go to the police again. We can’t go on like this,’ pleaded Betty
as she sat beside Julie on their settee while they both digested the contents
of this latest threat.

Julie
refused to be drawn into another argument. There had been a few over the preceding
weeks with each going over the same ground. Julie’s parents usually begged her
to go to the police, and Julie refused to go through the same ordeal again just
to be told that she was wasting police time.

She looked
at the piece of paper placed between her and Betty. It was a message made up
from letters cut out of newspapers; one of several that had arrived recently.
This time, however, the words were even more alarming:-

‘Give
yourself up or you’ll meet the same fate as your friend.’

The word ‘friend’
was in italics indicating that it was used cynically, and she wondered whether
it referred to Amanda or Jacqueline. Julie and Betty didn’t discuss the meaning
of the letter; they didn’t need to. They both recognised the implicit message
that it carried.

It had to
be from Les. Ever since he had caught her in his flat she had been receiving
threats in various forms; letters, phone calls at work and home, and another parcel
that had arrived at work just that morning delivered by the same courier as the
previous package.

This time
Julie was prepared for him though. She abandoned her phone call and chased
after him, stopping in time to see him mount his motorbike. She made a mental
note of the number plate, and dashed back to the switchboard to jot it down in
her diary before announcing to Norma in glee.

‘I’ve got
the bastard this time!’

Norma
looked surprised. ‘What, you mean you got his registration number?’

‘That’s
right!’ said Julie before shutting the diary and replacing it in her drawer.

‘Good for
you!’ said Norma. ‘Ring the police; maybe they can track him down.’

‘They won’t
believe me. It’s not much to go on, is it?’

Norma
shrugged noncommittally, failing to reason with her. Perhaps she had reached
the conclusion that her reasoning was to no avail.

To be on
the safe side Julie also scribbled down the registration number on a small
piece of paper and placed it inside her purse. Maybe she was just being
paranoid but recent events had had that effect on her and she wasn’t taking any
chances. She might not be able to use this piece of evidence yet but it might
come in useful soon enough.

First she
had to see Vinny’s plan through and, once it had reached its conclusion, she
felt sure that the registration number would prove useful in reigning justice
on the sinister motorbike rider, but Les had to be dealt with first.

Norma
withdrew her from her pensive mode by asking, ‘Don’t you want to open it?’

Julie
stared at the ominous parcel as she replied, ‘Not really, but I suppose I
should.’

She began
to tear the paper away cautiously before lifting the lid, which was decorated
with a cross, representing a coffin. Even though she had tried to mentally
prepare herself it still took her by surprise.

Inside the
small rectangular box was a picture, which, she guessed, must have been ripped
from a horror magazine. It showed a naked woman stretched out on a bed, her
body mutilated and bloody. Above her hovered a man with a dagger in his hand,
his expression joyful but at the same time chilling.