The Traitor (18 page)

Frankie was determined to argue her point. ‘But Jed, when Georgie’s older I want her to go to a nursery and stuff. She has to mix with other children her own age. I also want to be able to go out shopping. I’m sick of having to ask you or your dad to drive me to Tesco’s; I need some independence.’

Jed wasn’t silly. Frankie was going nowhere, but he had to be tactful and he’d always been a master with words. ‘I tell you what, babe. Wait till Georgie’s a bit older, then I’ll give you driving lessons meself. I’m the bollocks behind the wheel and if I teach ya, it’ll put me mind at ease.’

‘Why can’t you just pay for me to have lessons, Jed? I know you’re a good driver, but you haven’t even got a licence.’

Jed laughed. ‘Never had an accident though, have I?’ he said cockily.

Frankie sighed. She knew when she was beaten. ‘When can you start teaching me, then? I mean, why do I have to wait until Georgie’s older?’

Jed smiled as he handed the baby back to her. ‘Because it’s sensible, Frankie. Look, I promise I’ll teach ya, right? But don’t get on me case, because if you do I might change my mind. Right, I’m off to earn us some wonga now. Me and the old man have gotta pick up a motor in Grays.’

Frankie felt deflated as he slammed the door. She felt like a prisoner in her own home and she hated it.

Jed hid behind the trailer and peeped through the net curtains. He could see that Frankie was crying and he was glad. She was going nowhere on her own, the silly little cow. How dare she even have the cheek to ask? As he strolled towards his parents’ place, Jed smiled. Now Frankie had his kid, she was his property for life and the quicker she realised that, the better.

As Eddie stood in the dock, he was surprised by the number of familiar faces he could see. He’d fallen out with his two brothers, Paulie and Ronny, a good few months before he’d been imprisoned and even though they’d written to him, he hadn’t expected them to attend his trial.

Reg and Albert, his uncles, were there, along with Joan and Violet, his two favourite aunts. He’d known Gary and Ricky, his boys, couldn’t sit in the gallery until they’d stood as character witnesses for him, but he hadn’t expected Pat Murphy or Flatnose Freddie to turn up. Raymond, obviously, wasn’t in court, as he was also giving evidence. The same applied to his old pals Dougie and John, the old guvnor of the Flag in Canning Town, who had offered to stand as character witnesses for him.

The biggest relief for Eddie was that Frankie hadn’t been called up. She’d been there on the night of the murder but, thanks to Raymond’s intervention, she’d given a statement saying she knew nothing. At one point, Ed had fully expected Frankie to be issued with a subpoena, but his solicitor, Larry, had worked wonders in keeping Frankie out of it. A letter a couple of months ago from a top doctor had confirmed that Frankie was so traumatised by the death of her mother that she was contemplating suicide, and as she was also pregnant, it would be best for the well-being of herself, as well as that of the baby, if she did not give evidence.

Eddie would always be indebted to Larry for this, whatever the outcome of the trial. Facing his daughter in a packed courtroom while having to speak about her mother’s death was something he could not have dealt with.

As the jury were ushered in, Eddie felt the beginnings of nervousness. Three looked like total nutters and if they were picked to decide his fate, he’d need a fucking miracle.

In a pub in the Essex countryside, Stanley and Joyce sat opposite one another in silence. They had ordered lunch, but barely even nibbled at it. Neither was hungry; both were well aware that today was the start of Eddie’s trial.

It had been Stanley’s idea to go out for the day. ‘Let’s take our minds off things, Joycie. We’ll go to a nice pub in the country and have a bite to eat, shall we?’

Joyce had agreed, but wished now that she hadn’t. Not only could she not eat a morsel, she didn’t even feel like talking. Neither Stanley nor she had felt up to attending the trial. If Jessica had been murdered by some maniac, they might have felt differently, but what had happened was a terrible accident, so what was the point? There was no way in the world that Eddie had meant to kill Jessica. Their beautiful daughter had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Raymond had told them that Eddie was pleading not guilty to murder. Stanley had been extremely upset, but Joyce fully understood. Joyce knew she should hate Eddie, but she didn’t and couldn’t. Stanley was bound to feel differently. He’d never liked Jessica’s choice of husband in the first place.

Desperate to go home, Joyce broke the silence. ‘Neither of us is hungry, Stanley, so why are we sitting ’ere like two of eels?’

Stanley shrugged. ‘I thought it would do us good to go for a drive and get out for the day.’

Joyce stood up and held out her hand. ‘Let’s just go home, eh, love?’

Sick of the sight of Alice O’Hara, Frankie stood up. ‘I’m going for a walk. You’ll be OK looking after Georgie for ten minutes, won’t you?’

A besotted Alice rocked the baby and nodded. ‘Take as long as you like,’ she mumbled.

Grabbing her mobile phone, Frankie opened the door of the trailer. She was desperate not only to get away from Alice, but to also make some phone calls in private. She needed to speak to normal people and have some familiarity back in her life.

She called Joey first.

‘You OK, sis? How’s Georgie? I can’t talk for long, I’m at work,’ he told her.

‘Yeah, me and Georgie are both fine,’ Frankie lied. Joey had never liked Jed and she was too embarrassed to tell him how she was really feeling.

‘What’s up? You don’t sound yourself. Is Alice driving you mad again?’ Joey asked.

‘A bit. She means well, though, I think. How’s Dom, and when you gonna come and see me next?’

Joey sighed. Both he and Dominic were sick of Jed’s family spouting homophobic innuendo and had come to a joint decision. ‘Look, sis, me and Dom will come and see you whenever you want, but we ain’t coming to the trailer any more. It’s obvious that Alice has a problem with what me and Dominic are, and Jimmy and Jed both take the piss out of us in their own way. Me and Dom feel really uncomfortable around them, so we’d rather pick you and Georgie up in a cab and spend some time alone with you. Or, if that’s a problem, we can always meet you somewhere.’

‘OK, I understand,’ Frankie replied. She felt too choked up to say anything else.

‘Frankie, I don’t know if you know, but Nan told me yesterday that Dad’s up in court today. It’s the start of the trial. Listen, I’ve got to go, my guvnor’s just walked in. I’ll call you back later, yeah?’

Frankie sat on a bale of hay and put her head in her hands. She hadn’t known that it was her dad’s trial and the thought of it made her feel sick. She forced herself not to cry. Perhaps she just had the baby blues or something.

Frankie stared at her phone. What she needed were her friends back in her life. Since she’d moved in with Jed she had hardly spoken to Stacey, Paige or Demi. She decided to ring Stacey first. None of them had mobiles and she hoped at least one of them was at home.

‘Hello. Is Stacey there?’ she asked as her friend’s mum answered the phone.

‘No, love. Is that you, Frankie?’

‘Yeah.’

‘She’s at work, darling. Stacey’s got a job in Topshop in Romford. How’s things with you? Have you had the baby yet?’

‘Yeah, I had a little girl. I’ve called her Georgie. When’s the best time to contact Stacey? Is she around in the evenings?’

Stacey’s mum laughed. ‘She’s rarely in, Frankie. She’s always out pubbing and clubbing with Demi and Paige. They’ve all got jobs now and they’ve just booked a holiday. Going to Lloret de Mar in Spain, they are. Me and her dad are worried sick, but hopefully they’ll all come back unscathed.’

Frankie forced a laugh. ‘I’ve got to go now, the baby’s crying,’ she lied.

As she ended the call, Frankie sank to her knees. She would have loved to still have a mum who cared about her, a dad who wasn’t in prison, a job in Topshop and a holiday to look forward to. As Frankie cried, her sobs were raw and pure. Everybody else was getting on with their lives, including Joey, and hers seemed like a living hell.

With the jury now whittled down to twelve, Ed was finally satisfied with those chosen. He had always prided himself on having a sixth sense when it came to people’s characters – that’s why he’d had the cocky-looking dark-haired geezer removed earlier.

‘I’m sure I know that bloke. I think I had a tear-up with him in a boozer in East Ham years ago,’ Ed had told his solicitor. He was lying, of course. Eddie had never seen the geezer before in his life, he just hadn’t liked the man’s persona or his smarmy face. The bloke had ‘wrong ’un’ stamped all over him.

The judge cleared his throat. ‘Would the defendant please stand.’

As the charges, along with his wife’s name, were read out, Eddie stared the judge straight in the eye without flinching.

He had been through enough suffering over what had happened to Jessica, and he was determined to get away with her murder, however many lies he had to tell.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DI Blyth was not a happy woman. She had been on maternity leave for the past six months and things had gone to pot in her absence. Reading over the papers and statements of Eddie Mitchell’s court case, Blyth scratched her head.

On the night of Jessica’s murder, Eddie had apparently confessed to killing her, claiming it was a case of mistaken identity because he’d gone to Tilbury to shoot his daughter’s boyfriend, Jed O’Hara. DS Lineker had taken a short statement, but after being told by a doctor that Eddie was too ill to be properly interrogated, had arranged to come back the following day.

Eddie later denied giving his original statement and because there was no solicitor or tape recorder present, it was just Lineker’s word against Mitchell’s. The police had originally thought that because Eddie was badly injured himself, he was also a victim, but that was not the case. By the time the police returned the following day, Eddie had his solicitor present and said, ‘No comment,’ in answer to every question.

As DI Blyth studied Lineker’s report of the evening in question, she shook her head in disbelief. Frankie, Eddie’s daughter, had been there on the night of her mother’s murder, therefore should automatically be a key witness in the case.

Blyth almost laughed out loud as she read the doctor’s report on why Frankie was unfit to be a witness. ‘What a load of old bollocks,’ Blyth mumbled as she threw the papers on the table and grabbed her handbag. Frankie Mitchell should be testifying against her father and if anyone could make that happen, she could.

Eddie Mitchell was now into the fourth day of his trial and it was a case of so far so good. The prosecution had tried to slate him as a person and slander his name, but Ed was as cute as a button when it came to digging himself out of a hole. When he was a kid, his father used to tell him he had an answer for everything, and over the years Eddie had honed this talent. His brain was as sharp as a razor and it would take more than some dumb-arsed coppers and a wanky prosecution team to catch him out.

Eddie was thrilled by the performance of the QC that Larry had found him. James Fitzgerald Smythe was worth his weight in gold. He had just finished questioning the prosecution and not only had he picked massive holes in their version of events, he had also managed to portray Eddie himself as some kind of saint.

While Smythe addressed the jury, Eddie stared at their faces. Their expressions gave nothing away and, not for the first time in his life, Eddie wished that he could read people’s minds.

Alice O’Hara had had a terrible fear of coppers ever since she was a young child. She’d been nine years old when the police had raided the gypsy site and arrested her father. She had never seen her dad again. He had died of a heart attack while in police custody and Alice swore to this day that the bastards had killed him and covered up his death.

Alice was listening to her Patsy Cline tape and doing the washing up when she heard the sound of tyres on the gravel. She ran over to the window. Jimmy had gone to visit one of his brothers in hospital and Frankie and Jed were in their trailer with the baby.

As the woman stepped out of the burgundy Ford Granada, Alice knew exactly who she was. She and Jimmy rarely had visitors during the day and Alice could spot a copper a mile away.

She ran to the phone and dialled Jed’s mobile number. ‘Dordie, boy. The gavvers are ’ere, send ’em away,’ she screamed.

Telling Frankie to stay put, Jed composed himself and opened the trailer door. He, Sammy and his dad had been making a mint for months now by ringing stolen vans, lorries, horse-boxes, trailers and anything else they could get their thieving hands on. Whatever they nicked, they would get rid of the chassis number, then mould two similar vehicles into one to hide the stolen one’s identity. They would then sell it on with false or no paperwork depending on who was buying it. They kept nothing locally. Anything they chored was kept in a couple of yards belonging to a friend of an uncle up in Norfolk. Praying that their profitable little scam hadn’t come on top, Jed held his composure and walked towards the tall, dark-haired woman.

‘I live here. Can I help you?’

DI Blyth smiled. She was an expert at playing the softly-softly approach. She held out her right hand. ‘Hello. You must be Jed. I’m Detective Inspector Blyth and I’m here to have a little chat with Francesca Mitchell. It’s about her father’s court case.’

Relieved that he and his old man were in the clear, Jed shook DI Blyth’s hand and invited her inside his trailer. ‘She hates being called Francesca – she prefers Frankie,’ he said.

Frankie was feeding Georgie as the woman appeared beside Jed. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her voice sounding edgy.

Jed urged Frankie to hand him the baby. ‘This lady wants to have a chat with you about your dad’s court case, Frankie.’