The Trap (45 page)
To avoid any rush-hour traffic, Vinny picked Ahmed up at the crack of dawn. ‘Did you bring any gear with you?’ Vinny asked. He didn’t like to keep a stash of his own, as it was too tempting to snort it.
‘It is breakfast time,’ Ahmed replied, pretending to be appalled.
‘I know that, you nutter. Just thought we might perk ourselves up a bit later. I didn’t get rid of all the punters until after three so I’ve only had a couple of hours’ sleep-feel fucked I do.’
Grinning, Ahmed pulled a small see-through bag out of his pocket. ‘Good job I had the brain to bring this with me then.’
Little Vinny was like a cat with two tails. All he could think and talk about was having regular holidays with his new pals Steve and Gary down at Eastbourne. ‘Nan, you and Auntie Viv are really gonna love it at Kings. They have bingo, and a glamorous granny competition. I think you should enter that. I’m sure you are pretty enough to win.’
Queenie didn’t want to dampen her grandson’s enthusiasm, but there was more chance of hell freezing over than her standing on stage with a load of old dears who wore Crimplene dresses and stank of piss. ‘Aren’t you going out with Ben today?’
‘Not until Dad’s rang. He promised he would ring me as soon as he’d bought the chalet. I want to know what number it is.’
‘Well, you’re gonna have to find out later, boy. Me and your Auntie Viv are going to visit your great-nan’s grave, then we have to go and see Roy. You can’t stay here on your own, so if you’re not going out to play, then you’ll have to come with us.’
‘But, why can’t I stay here? I know how to look after myself, and as soon as Dad rings I’ll go out.’
‘Nope. You ain’t staying here, Vinny, and that is final.’
Within two hours of arriving in Eastbourne, Vinny had spied through the window of chalet number twenty-five, and purchased what was referred to as a bungalow because it was newly built with bricks rather than wood. He was now sitting by the swimming pool with an ice-cold lager in his hand.
‘That man’s face was a picture when you handed him seven and half thousand pound in a carrier bag,’ Ahmed chuckled, unbuckling his jeans.
‘What you doing? You can’t strip down to your pants. There’s children present.’
‘Which is why I put trunks on,’ Ahmed said, letting go of his jeans to reveal a bright green pair of extremely brief Speedos.
Vinny couldn’t help but laugh as he clocked women staring at his pal. Ahmed was six foot two, golden brown, and really did have muscles in all the right places. He had a bit of a hooked nose which seemed to suit his face, and with his mirrored sunglasses on, plus the enormous bulge in his trunks, was certainly turning some heads. Vinny had thought he had been gifted with an enormous penis until he had stood next to his pal in the toilet one day. That was a story he and Ahmed often joked about.
‘I could eat a scabby horse. Where do I buy food?’ Ahmed asked.
Vinny didn’t answer. He was transfixed by the girl in the bikini who was walking towards him with her pal. He knew immediately it was Joanna Preston, and he nudged Ahmed’s arm. ‘Our prey has just arrived, and she’s heading our way.’
When Joanna smiled at him, then asked if the sunbeds next to them were free, Vinny could barely believe his luck.
‘I go to get my friend and I drink and food. Would you like anything, beautiful ladies?’ Ahmed asked, winking at Joanna’s pal. Ahmed always liked to sound more Turkish when chatting up English birds. A foreign lilt, plus a few cheesy compliments always equalled great success. Over the years, it had ensured him many a bunk-up and his beloved British passport.
‘No, we’re fine. But thanks for asking us,’ the girl replied politely.
When Joanna took some sun oil out of her bag and began to rub it all over her body, Vinny watched her out of the corner of his sunglasses. Joanna was easy on the eye, and nothing would give him greater pleasure than fucking the arse off Johnny Preston’s daughter. He could get an erection just thinking about it.
Little Vinny couldn’t think of anything more boring than spending the day at his great-nan’s grave and Roy’s care home, so he had allowed his nan to march him round to Ben Bloggs’ house. He had then knocked on the door, waved goodbye, and gone inside. What his nan hadn’t realized was as soon as she had walked off, he and Ben had gone back to her house and were currently trying to get through the kitchen window.
‘I’m stuck. It’s hurting my arms. I can’t get in there,’ Ben complained, as he managed to wriggle back out, with the help of his pal pulling his legs.
‘Well, we’re just gonna have to get the ladder, then you can stand on the conservatory roof and get though my bedroom window,’ Little Vinny suggested.
‘Why me? You’re better at climbing, Vin, so you do it.’
Little Vinny was like his father in more ways than one, and one of the worst traits he had inherited was impatience. He was so desperate to receive the phonecall confirming that his dad had purchased a chalet at Kings that he would have done almost anything to get inside the house.
‘Be careful. That roof is only plastic,’ Ben said, as his mate went up the ladder.
‘I’ll be fine. I ain’t fat, am I?’
Little Vinny slithered across the roof like a snake. But as he stood up to heave himself through the bedroom window, the shrill voice of Mouthy Maureen who lived next-door-but-one made him lose his balance.
Seconds later, the roof gave way and with a deafening crash, Little Vinny fell through to the conservatory.
Back in Eastbourne, Vinny had just got Joanna and her pal a drink and was currently laying on the charm. ‘So, whereabouts do you come from, girls?’ he asked, propping himself up on his elbow.
‘Tiptree,’ Chloe replied.
‘And you?’ Vinny asked, fixing his most penetrating stare on Joanna.
‘I come from the same place,’ Joanna replied. She’d been young when her father moved them out to Essex, and he had always warned her never to tell anybody where she had lived beforehand. Even though many years had now passed, the warning had stuck in Joanna’s mind. She wasn’t silly. She knew her dad was into bad stuff which was why he was locked up now, but she had never really learned the full truth of why they’d had to leave London in such a hurry. Her parents had both seemed reluctant to talk about the move, and had virtually told Joanna not to mention the subject again, which she hadn’t.
‘I very hungry again, ladies. Would you be so kind to join me and my friend for lunch? We can leave towel on sunbeds and eat inside club,’ Ahmed suggested.
Chloe shrugged and looked at Joanna. Neither of them earned much money in their cleaning jobs, and the two men did seem quite charming. ‘Shall we, Jo?’
‘Go on, be a devil. Our treat of course,’ Vinny said, winking at his prey.
Joanna was rather taken with Vinny. Since she and Chloe had been working at Kings, they had met and snogged a few lads. Joanna had even let one touch her breasts, but nobody had really rocked her boat. Most were just holiday-makers out for a good time. Vinny was different. He was older, extremely handsome, very sophisticated, and he had told her he owned a place at Kings. That had impressed Joanna because he had said it was a brick-built bungalow, and because they were relatively new, only rich people could afford them. Smiling at Vinny, Joanna stood up.
‘Lunch it is then.’
Because of their hectic lifestyles, Donald and Christopher Walker spent very little father-and-son time alone. Either Donald was busy in the café or Christopher was on the beat, and when the two were together, Mary was usually in her armchair joining in with their conversation.
Today, however, Christopher was off duty, the café had been quiet, and Mary had suggested that father and son go for a lunchtime pint together. ‘Me and Tina can manage OK, and you could do with a break, Donald. I often pop out during opening hours, and it isn’t fair that you are always stuck here,’ his wife had insisted.
‘Some of the lads at work drink far too much, you know, Dad. They finish their shift and go straight to the pub. Even if they are on a late shift, they go to this pub called the Spurstowe Arms where the landlord gives them a lock-in. They stay in there most of the night sometimes, and you can tell that they aren’t as on the ball in work the next day as they should be,’ Christopher informed his father as they walked towards their local.
‘Christ! That’s disgusting. No wonder there are so many bloody crimes committed if half of the Met are permanently pissed. I really have never understood why people enjoy getting drunk. It’s a complete waste of money, and surely it is better to be in control of yourself. I got drunk once, son, when I was about your age, and I vowed never to allow myself to do it again. Do these colleagues of yours invite you to go drinking with them?’ Donald asked, worriedly. He had thought the police force were the crème de la crème of the human race, but obviously not.
Christopher didn’t answer. He hadn’t seen his sister for years, but he was sure it was Nancy who was walking towards them. She was with another girl, both were pushing buggies, and there was also a dark-haired child walking alongside them. ‘Dad, is that Nancy?’
‘What! Where?’
‘Walking towards us.’
Donald recognized his daughter immediately even though she was a good fifty yards away. She was still as slim as ever, and with her long blonde hair and beauty, Nancy was unmistakeable. And even though the child beside her looked nothing like Nancy, he knew it must be one of his grandsons.
‘Where we going, Dad?’ Christopher asked, when his father yanked him by the arm and dragged him across the road.
‘We’re avoiding your sister, son. You don’t want to see her, do you?’
‘No. Not really. I wouldn’t have minded seeing what my nephews look like though.’
‘Those children aren’t your nephews, Christopher, neither are they my grandsons. They are Butlers. Never forget that, will you?’
Christopher glanced over the road and, aware that Nancy was looking his way, quickly turned back to his father. ‘You’re spot-on, Dad. Those kids are bound to turn out to be scum just like their father and uncles are.’
Roy Butler felt the happiest he had in ages. Paul had just turned up with the gun he had asked for, and he was moving to Eastbourne.
‘How much do I owe you?’ Roy asked his pal.
‘Two hundred including the bullets. I wish you would tell me what you are planning though, Roy, in case it backfires my way. Vinny and Michael aren’t gonna be happy if they find out I am involved, are they?’
Roy wrapped the gun back in its cloth, wheeled himself over to his bedside cabinet and hid it at the back of the drawer.
‘You can’t leave it there! Say one of the carers finds it?’ Paul said, feeling more anxious by the second. He had a wife and two kids to support, therefore could not afford to lose his job at the club. He was also worried about repercussions from Vinny. His boss certainly wasn’t a chap you’d want to get on the wrong side of.
Roy wheeled himself over to where Paul was sitting and stared him in the eyes. ‘I swear on my Emily-Mae’s life that your name will never crop up, Paul. I am a man of my word, as you well know.’
‘But, won’t you go to prison, Roy? I mean, you can hardly shoot someone and get away from the scene of the crime easily, can you? I ain’t being nosy, I’m just worried about you, that’s all.’
Roy tried to smile on the one side of his face that would still allow him that pleasure. ‘Please do not fret or ask me any more questions, mate. My plan is infallible. Crippled I might be, but stupid I’m not.’
Back in Eastbourne, Joanna and Chloe were getting along like a house on fire with the two generous gentlemen they had met.
‘Well, do you fancy Ahmed?’ Joanna asked her pal, as they went to the toilet together just so they could have a girlie discussion.
‘I’m not sure. I think I do, but he’s a bit too old for my liking. What about you? I can tell you like that Vinny, so don’t make out you don’t.’
‘Yeah, I do really like him, but as you said, they are a bit old for us. Then again, they are good fun and I think they are loaded, so we would be mad not to see them again if they asked us. Them lads we went out with last week made us go round for round with them, Chloe. I can never imagine Vinny and Ahmed making us buy them a drink, can you? Surely we are better to date real men than silly bloody boys, eh?’
‘Yeah, you’re right. We came to work at Kings to have some fun, so we might as well let Ahmed and Vinny show us a good time,’ Chloe agreed.
Joanna giggled and linked arms with her pal. ‘I bet they are both good in bed too. Vinny has the most mesmerizing eyes I have ever seen, and did you see the size of Ahmed’s thingamajig in them Speedos? It looked like he had a snake tucked in there.’
Chloe playfully punched her pal on the arm. ‘Stop it,’ she ordered.
Queenie and Vivian weren’t even halfway down their road when Mouthy Maureen came running towards them. Maureen had only moved in next-door-but-one to Queenie just over a year back, and although her curtains and house were kept spotlessly clean, she did like to poke her trunk into other people’s business which is why Queenie and Vivian liked to keep their distance from her.
‘What’s this fucking trappy cow want?’ Vivian mumbled, when Maureen started to wave her hands frantically.
By the time Maureen reached Queenie and Vivian she was so out of puff she could barely speak or breathe, so leant on a nearby wall.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Queenie asked.
‘It’s Little Vinny. I had to call an ambulance for him. He fell through your conservatory roof and I think he’s broken his arm. Took a bang on the head as well,’ Maureen panted.
‘Where is he now?’ Vivan asked, alarmed.
‘London Hospital. He isn’t alone though. His mate Ben Bloggs was with him, and Big Stan went in the ambulance with them. Stan wanted to take him in his car, but I told him no. I watched a programme recently, and it said if anyone has had a bad fall you shouldn’t move them until the experts get there.’
Queenie could feel her hands shaking, such was the shock. ‘So, was he conscious?’
‘Oh yeah. He had to stand up to unlock the door, but then I made him lie back down again. Lucky he fell on that flowered sofa that you bought recently. Flattened it, he did, but it would have been a lot worse had he hit the concrete floor.’