The Trap (12 page)

Holding his distraught wife in his arms, Donald shook his head sadly. For once, he really did not have an answer.

As usual on a Sunday afternoon, Queenie cooked a roast for all the family.

‘Whatever’s wrong? Has Kenny kicked the bucket?’ she asked worriedly, when Vinny walked in. Just one look at her eldest son’s face told her that something terrible had happened.

‘Vinny,’ Lenny yelled, running out of the lounge and throwing his arms around his big cousin’s waist.

Vinny took a two-bob note out of his pocket and handed it to Lenny. ‘I want you and Brenda to go to the shops and buy yourselves some sweets, Champ.’

‘What’s up?’ Roy asked, shutting the lounge door.

‘Where’s Michael?’ Vinny replied, ignoring his brother’s question.

‘Out on his moped.’

Vinny explained everything that had happened outside the club, then put his head in his hands. He didn’t feel any remorse whatsoever over what he had done, but he didn’t want his mother thinking she had given birth to a cold-blooded killer. ‘I didn’t mean to kill the geezer, but it was two against one, Mum. I had to stick up for myself, didn’t I? They could have been tooled up or anything for all I knew.’

Both Queenie and Vivian put comforting arms around Vinny’s slumped shoulders. ‘You did what you had to do, boy. Nothing more, nothing less,’ Vivian told him.

‘Yep. Vivvy’s right. They turned up looking for a row and unfortunately for them, they got one. I know it’s sad that you accidently killed the man, but there’s no point crying over spilt milk. What’s done is done, boy. Now apart from that young lad, was there anybody else about?’

‘No. It all happened so quickly, and apart from the kid, the street was desolate. Thank Christ our club is in a quiet sidestreet, eh, Roy?’ Vinny said, staring at his brother.

Roy nodded, but said nothing. Vinny had always been a volatile bastard with a foul temper even when they were kids. Just lately though, Roy could sense his brother’s unpredictability and violent nature getting worse, which worried him greatly. In the past couple of weeks alone, he had put their own father in hospital, smashed the living daylights out of Kenny Jackson, and now he had stabbed some poor sod to death.

Guessing what Roy was thinking, Vinny glared at him. ‘Say something then, if it’s only bollocks. What was I meant to do, eh? Stand there like a lemon and let them do me over? You weren’t there to back me up, was ya?’

Queenie butted in before Roy could retaliate. ‘Arguing between us isn’t gonna solve this, is it? What we need is a watertight alibi in case the police start sniffing round. You were here with me, Vivian, Roy and the kids, OK, Vinny? I’ll word Brenda and Lenny up and worst ways, you give me fifty quid and I’ll give it to Old Ivy next door to say she saw you arrive early as well.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ Vinny said, his voice full of relief. Old Ivy had given him an alibi once or twice in the past in exchange for cash, and Vinny knew she could be trusted.

‘Well, that’s that then. You both got here at one o’clock. Now, all you’ve got to hope is that child keeps his mouth shut, Vinny. Did you threaten him to do so?’

Vinny nodded his head. He liked children and felt more guilty about threatening Christopher Walker than committing the murder.

‘What exactly did you say to him?’ Vivian asked.

‘Not much. I just made sure he knew that if he opened his trap something bad would happen to his family. I gave him a tenner an’ all.’

Queenie squeezed her son’s hand. ‘Do you want me and Vivian to have a word with him as well? We can catch him on his way to or from school.’

‘No, leave it for now, Mum. The boy looked petrified enough, so let’s just see what happens, eh? It will only be my word against his if he says anything. Johnny Preston definitely ain’t gonna grass me, so I think it’s best we just ride the storm. I mean if you, Viv, Roy, Ivy and the kids all swear blind I was here, what can the Old Bill do?’

When the doorbell rang, Vivian sprang up and spied through the net curtain. ‘It’s the police.’

Queenie shoved Roy out the back door. ‘You need to clue Brenda and Lenny up. Go find ’em, quick.’

When Roy bolted out the back, Queenie took a deep breath and wiped her clammy hands on her apron. She then opened the front door and smiled. ‘Good afternoon, officers. What can I do for you?’

‘Oh my God! I hope that isn’t the police again,’ Mary exclaimed, when she heard a pummelling against the front door of the café.

‘You stay here. I’ll sort it,’ Donald insisted, running down the stairs.

‘Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Stevens. I understand one of my colleagues popped in to see you earlier?’

‘Yes, that is correct. Would you like to come in?’ Donald asked, apprehensively.

‘No. I would actually like you and your son to come along to the police station with me. We have organized an identification parade, and it would be most helpful if your son could pick out the man he saw arguing with the victim.’

‘I’m very sorry, but Christopher is only eight years old and I think it is wholly inappropriate that he be involved in something as nerve-racking as an identification parade. I have just had a very long chat with Christopher myself and I can assure you that he has told you everything he knows. My son has been brought up with morals and he would never lie about something as serious as this.’

D.I. Stevens nodded understandingly. ‘I do see what you mean, but this identification parade will not take very long and I can assure you our suspects will not see or even know that your son is there, Sir.’

Donald sighed. He had always classed himself as a pillar of the community, so how could he say no? ‘Wait there while I speak to Christopher.’

Vinny Butler followed the seven other men into the empty room. He hadn’t been arrested, his alibi was watertight, and when the police had asked him to participate in an identification parade, he had readily agreed. He had to act as though he was innocent, and it would be a sign of guilt if he refused.

Wondering who was behind the blacked-out window, Vinny felt his heart rate quadruple. Asking himself if there had been another witness he hadn’t spotted, Vinny made a mental note to dispose of the knife and the clothes he had been wearing the following morning. After dropping off Christopher earlier, he had hidden them as best as he could, but the clothes needed burning as they were splashed with blood, and the knife needed to be got rid of properly. Roy would have to sort both out for him, in case he himself was being watched.

Vinny glanced at the other men in the line-up. They were all roughly his age, but none was as good-looking or oozed class like he did. When the officer barked orders for all eight men to stand up straight and stare at the blackened window,Vinny, being Vinny, stood tall and more confidently than any other.

Christopher chewed his lip nervously when he was told to study the men one by one. His dad was sitting in the room with him, which was making him feel even more anxious. ‘Nope, it’s definitely none of them who I saw,’ he mumbled, after a couple of minutes.

‘Take your time, Christopher. We have reason to believe that the perpetrator of this terrible crime is amongst these men. You sit here and have a long hard look, while I have a little chat with your dad outside.’

Donald followed the officer out of the room.

‘My colleague said something about your children attending a party at a snooker club yesterday that is owned by Vinny and Roy Butler. Are you two families friends?’

‘Oh, dear God, no! We have only moved into the area recently and my wife and I have barely spoken to the Butler family. My daughter has just started a new school and is in the same class as young Brenda. That is the only reason why she and Christopher got invited to the party.’

‘And what was this incident your son was involved in yesterday? My colleague mentioned that somebody was attacked at the party?’ D.I. Stevens asked. He was well aware of Kenny Jackson being admitted to the London Hospital, but his wife had insisted he had fallen over drunk, which both she and he knew was a big fat lie.

‘No, as far as I’m aware nobody was attacked, officer. My children ran home scared because they saw a man lying on the floor bleeding nearby the building as they left,’ Donald lied. His Christopher was in too deep as it was, and he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for even more questioning.

‘Does your son know Vinny Butler well, Mr Walker?’

‘No, of course he doesn’t,’ Donald spat.

Furious that he was getting nowhere fast, D.I. Stevens strode back into the room and left Donald standing outside. Whitechapel was becoming a hotbed for gangland families and murders these days and it was his duty to stamp out such scum.

‘Have you recognized anybody now, Christopher?’ he asked, with a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

‘No, Sir. It was none of those men that I saw near the club.’

‘Take a look again at number one, Christopher. Are you damn sure it wasn’t him?’

Number one was Vinny and when Christopher stared at him again, it felt as though Vinny was staring straight back at him. Thinking what scary eyes Vinny had, Christopher remembered the threat to harm his parents and sister and frantically shook his head. ‘It definitely wasn’t him, Sir. If anything, the man I saw looked more like number four.’

CHAPTER TEN

As Christmas beckoned, not for the first time in his life, Vinny truly believed he had got away with murder.

‘Morning, Vin. Mental last night, weren’t it? I bet you wish we weren’t shutting tonight now, don’t you?’ Roy said, putting two mugs of tea on the coffee table. The boys had properly moved into the club earlier this week, and now the upstairs had been re-decorated, it looked much more homely than before.

Vinny shook his head. Friday was usually their busiest night of the week, but it had been his decision to close the club because it was Christmas Eve. ‘Nope. I ain’t got no regrets. We could do with a break ourselves. I’m meeting Geary at lunchtime. How much do you think I should bung him on top of what we pay for this place?’ Vinny asked his brother.

George Geary had been keeping them up to date with developments on the murder of Dave Phillips. Obviously, Vinny hadn’t admitted anything, but it was very comforting to know that the only witness who had come forward was Mad Freda. It was also through Geary that Vinny knew that it had been Christopher Walker behind the blacked-out window at the identification parade, and Vinny had thought it fucking hilarious that the kid had picked out bloke number four rather than him. Vinny had sensibly kept well away from the café, and hadn’t seen Christopher since.

‘Wait and see what info Geary has got for us. If he tells you Jack shit again, just give him fifty on top as a Christmas drink. If he has found out where the Prestons are though, you’d better give one an’ half at least,’ Roy advised.

Vinny nodded. It had been just over a week since Roy had paid Judy Preston a visit to check if she’d had the abortion. There had been no answer, then a neighbour had come out to inform him that Judy had moved out ten days earlier. Vinny had been absolutely furious and, unable to get involved himself just in case Geary had got it wrong and he was being followed, he had sent Michael to visit his arsehole of a father in hospital just to find out where Judy’s mother lived. He had then sent Roy round there only to find out that Mummy had done a runner too. So, Vinny had asked Geary if he could find out their whereabouts. He had also heard through the grapevine from a couple of his South London punters that Johnny Preston had disappeared off the face of the bloody earth, so Vinny wanted Geary to check out that story as well. Seeing as Johnny had run and left his best pal to die in a pool of blood like the coward he was, Vinny was sure that he wouldn’t go mouthing off about the murder. Geary hadn’t yet put two and two together, Vinny was sure of that. If he had, the Chief Inspector would have been on his case for more money like he usually was when he had something on him, and even if he did see the light, Vinny had his answer ready for him.

Roy jumped as the doorbell rang. ‘Who the fuck’s that this time of the morning?’

‘It might be Mum, so answer it, Roy.’

Roy did the honours, then ran back up the stairs. ‘It’s that Karen bird that used to work here. She wants to see you and says it’s urgent.’

Vinny sighed. Karen was the stripper he had slept with a couple of times. She had become a bit obsessed with him after their last night of passion, and had spouted her mouth off to all the other strippers, so Vinny had promptly sacked her. ‘Tell her I ain’t here,’ Vinny ordered his brother.

‘I’ve already told her you are here. I ain’t going back down there, Vin. You shagged her, so she’s your problem,’ Roy chuckled.

With only a towel around his waist to cover his nakedness, Vinny ran down the stairs and flung open the big metal door. ‘If you’ve come to ask for your job back, the answer is no. I told you what would happen if you started blabbing about what had happened between us, didn’t I?’

Ignoring the callous tone in Vinny’s voice, Karen brushed past him and stepped inside the club.

‘What do you think you’re fucking doing?’ Vinny spat.

Karen looked Vinny in the eyes and smirked. ‘I’m having a chat with the father of my unborn baby.’

‘You what?’

‘You heard. I’m pregnant, and it’s yours. Congratulations, Vinny.’

Absolutely starving after driving up to Carnaby Street and back, Michael and Kevin bumped their mopeds onto the pavement and parked them outside Mary and Donald’s café.

‘Wow, this looks well ace compared to when Old Jack had it. You never told me they had a jukebox,’ Kevin said, highly impressed.

‘I ain’t been in here since it re-opened, but my mum has and she said the food’s really nice,’ Michael informed his pal.

Unaware that Michael was a Butler, Mary took his and Kevin’s order. ‘Two cheeseburgers and chips, love,’ she said to Donald.

‘How are the kids? Have you checked on them again?’ Donald asked, putting the burgers into the frying pan.

‘Nancy’s OK, still absorbed in her Enid Blyton book, but Christopher is in bed, Donald. He didn’t eat any lunch again either, and he’s started to worry the bloody life out of me.’