Wednesday

This wasn’t the first time I had been hauled into a police station. There had been a drunken streak bet with Sherry during our college days. I had been busted after I tripped over some hydrangeas and fallen backwards into someone’s property... Sherry had tried to pull me up but in her drunken state she fell on top of me. Our howls of loud drunken laughter had woken the owner. The house owners had been of the puritan mindset screaming at us about being hippy lesbians. We had been let off with a warning so it wasn’t on my permanent record but we were hauled into the police station. It looked different from a sober point of view. There is a Star wars quote about Mos Eisley being a "wretched hive of scum and villainy”. The police station was that personified. There were a few drunken prostitutes screeching at each other in the lobby. From what I could make out there was some kind of bust up over corners. I avoided their eyes. A few drunken people were locked in the cells sleeping it off. One of them had pissed himself. ‘Nice’ I thought and there was a huge group of police men trying to control a large group of Pikeys unsuccessfully. Again I avoided any eye contact. I was told to sit down and wait for a bit on a bench.

The evening had turned into early morning and I found myself in an interrogation room. They had read me some kind of rights and taken my clothes for evidence processing. When I had quipped about ‘liking a drink first’’ the dour female sergeant had looked at me blankly and handed me a pair of white overalls with booties. My sense of humour is wasted on some people. I was then sent to an interrogation room and given a bottle of water and a weak cup of tea... I seemed to wait hours so I put my head down to have a small rest. It had been a long day and I was beyond tired.

I started nodding off when the door swung open and I started so badly that I hit my knee on the desk. Tears sprung into my eyes as white hot pain throbbed down my knee and up again. I swore in a gritted tone and glared at the man who came into the room. So was he going to be doing the bad cop and good cop routine? He was tall with a shaved head, piercing brown eyes, a hawk nose and the golden skin of someone from a Mediterranean background. He looked hard and no nonsense with hard lines on his forehead and around his mouth and eyes. I suspect he had lost his sense of humour a long time ago.

“Right, Ms Bilkins," he ploughed right in, “I’m DI Geradi. You were read your rights earlier?" I nodded and he switched on the recorder on the table.

“Do you know why you are here?” he asked then in his abrupt tone.

“Crimes against fashion,” I said gesturing to my adult romper suit. He blinked at me and in my head I saw tumbleweed blow past. The thing is I use humour when I’m nervous. The more inappropriate the situation the more likely my sarcasm and jokes are likely to come out. There had been this one interview...I pulled myself up as DC Geradi glared at me.

“Why were you at the victim’s fast food place?” he asked. I told him my story slowly without stopping. He nodded and wrote things down in a folder he had brought in with him. I left out the SUV, Maggie Malone and Jason Creedy’s interview.

“Why were you there after closing hours?” he asked.

“He had been avoiding my calls all day. I found out that his wife was having an affair and that he probably knew about it,“ I replied with pretend meekness.

“Did you see the shooter?” he said changing the subject fast.

“No,” I said just as abruptly. Two could play this game.

“Did you shoot the victim?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said with exaggerated sarcasm, “I got behind him and shot him in the head then flew using my magic powers across the floor to the cupboard. All without leaving a speck of evidence...And then I stayed on the scene and waited for the police to come arrest me.” I accompanied this with wide eyes and hand gestures. He smiled slightly and I was amazed his face didn’t fall apart. They had no physical proof that I had done anything or I’d be arrested already.

“I’m not a normal DI, Ms Bilkins,” he said, “I belong to the organised crime division. We were investigating the victim because we suspected his shop was laundering dirty money from a crime family in the East End.” He pulled out some photos and dropped them in front of me. They showed a man in his forties with one gold tooth and black and grey peppered hair. He had a broken nose and blue eyes. There was an air of menace about him. I shivered in spite of myself.

“Now I want you to be quiet while I tell this, Ms Bilkins, or I’ll arrest you,” he said this with a smile but I wasn’t really sure if he was joking or not. The smile never reached his eyes. For once my common sense ruled my big mouth and I kept quiet.

“This is Anthony Smith alias Tony the Tip.” I snorted to hide a laugh and thought, Tony the tip! Geez what next? Lenny the limp....Ben the Bender.

“He was a low level thug until about seven years ago when he married Graham Dodd’s daughter. Subsequently he was promoted within the organisation.” I wracked my brains thinking hard. Where did I know the name Graham Dodd from? Oh yeah, big time English drug dealer that the cops had been trying to nail for years. His father had been friends with the Krays.

“His ascent to power began the biggest East End turf war. There were killings weekly with rival gangs getting killed. Some were arrested and then killed in jail. We suspected that Tony was behind it but we couldn’t prove a damn thing. More and more of the street started belonging to the Dodd Family. Every time we got near someone who could nail him, they were killed, bought off or scared off. Then a year ago we got a big lead. Someone was going to testify and put Tony away. They wanted to remain anonymous but they had paperwork and evidence needed to secure a prosecution. Then they pulled out at the last minute.“ I grinned now my mind following its own dirty path.

"A year ago!" The same time Ronnie disappeared. I jumped up hitting my knee again and DC Grim- face (yes, Geraldi whatever) watched me wearily.

“Was Ronnie Jackson this Tony’s mistress?” I asked wanting confirmation even though I knew the answer already.

“Yes, childhood sweethearts apparently. He ditched her to marry Mary Dodd and kept her on the side. We suspected he was laundering money through her husband and funding her life style.”

“Did you think she was the informant?” I asked in my calmest voice. Inside I was secretly pleased at saying the word ‘informant’. I really felt like I was in an episode of the Bill. And then it hit me that I was in a police station. A man was dead and I was a witness to a murderer. Maxwell Jackson might have been a bit of a douche but he didn’t deserve to die. And not shot in the back of the head and left for dead on the floor. The thought sobered me up and I decided to not to be a smart ass or joke around. I just wanted to get out of here and sleep for hours. The adrenaline was wearing off and I was cold and tired.

“We don’t know, Ms Bilkins,” he said.

“Can I go yet?” I asked warily my eyes feeling gritty and bleary.

“Yes, but don’t leave the country,” he said as if I was some kind of delinquent criminal instead of a witness.

“Can I get my wallet and mobile phone back?” I asked and he nodded and threw out, “Go ask the desk sergeant. She’ll give you back those but we need your clothes for evidence processing. Unlike those stupid cop shows on TV, our lab processes evidence really slowly.”

They could keep the damned clothes. I had other jeans and t-shirts that I could wear. My converse trainers were the biggest loss. I loved those scruffy and scuffed black and white trainers. The rest of the time past slowly as I waited for the desk sergeant (The same one with no sense of humour) who seemed to take ages to get the little evidence bag containing my mobile, wallet and car keys. My damn car was still parked 10 minutes away from Maxwell Jackson shop.

I went outside the station on the pavement to ring Sherry when I heard squealing tires and a black van drove up to where I was standing with my mobile. I was so shocked at their gall that I didn’t move until it was too late. The back door slid opened and I was grabbed into the van. I hadn’t even had time to scream. I just started to hit out with my arms when a cold voice spoke stopping me in my tracks.

“Look, Ms Bilkins, if you don’t stop making a fuss I’ll have Rufus there break a limb.” If he hadn’t been so sincere the line would have been ridiculous. Instead it filled me with terror. I looked around the van. Two thugs sat looking at me malevolently. One had his beefy arms around me twisting me painfully. The third man in the van I recognised because he had been shown to me in a picture that evening. Tony the Tip stared at me coldly.

“I never saw anything,” I blurted out and my hearts started beating so hard I thought I was having some kind of heart attack. ‘Don’t volunteer information, Lucy, you idiot’ I thought exasperated at myself.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked in horror the words tumbling out. I wished to heaven that I lost all ability to speak.

Tony smiled at me coldly and said, “I have informants everywhere...The one perk of being in power.” Oh God he was going to kill me. I hadn’t even seen the world. I hadn’t done all that needed to be doing. He was going to chop me into pieces and scatter me around tips.

“Are you g...g...g...going to kill me?” I asked again the words tumbling out. What the hell was wrong with me? ‘Shut the fuck up, Lucy’ I screamed at myself internally

“Not...“ he paused and smiled at me coldly again causing my stomach to churn “...Today.” Despite myself I admired his ability to use lines like that without sounding ridiculous.

“So wh..wh..Why am I here?” I asked again my stammer getting worse as the Henchperson gripped me more tightly. The van had been driving for a while now. I had been so caught up in the drama inside it I hadn’t noticed until we came to s stop. The Hench person crushed my throat accidently. This prevented me from speaking and breathing momentarily. Which was good because 1) I would have probably said something dumb 2) Begged for my life or something....Or 3) Said something dumb while begging for my life.

“Let’s take a walk, Ms Bilkins,” he said it in a voice that was supposed to make me trust him. It failed big time
 
“Please don’t try to run or I’ll get Rufus to shoot you in the leg.” I wasn’t sure if I could stand but I sprawled out of the van door as soon as Rufus let go of me. My legs were feeling rubbery but I managed to jerkily stand up outside the van. Tony got out and we started walking slowly.

“I know Maxwell Jackson hired you to find Ronnie,” he said sombrely. I nodded not trusting myself to speak

“It wasn’t just Ronnie who disappeared a year ago. Five million pounds disappeared from his shop at the same time. The police have told you about me,” he said this almost matter of factly. He was neither confirming nor denying the money laundering thing. I nodded again while biting my lip. We walked in the cold early morning. It was still dark but I could hear birds waking. I felt like I’d never be warm again but the adrenaline was still coursing through my body.

“I met Ronnie when we were in our teens. We both lived in a council estate in East London. I never saw anything so beautiful. We were both dirt poor. My father was an alcoholic who beat me. Hers was dead and her mother was a junkie. Now, I’m not going to blame my career on my father being an alcoholic. I believe you have to make your own destiny. I started running with a gang and moved up slowly in the ranks.. Ronnie moved with me. We were very happy but I wanted more. I was always craving that extra thing. And the more you crave something the less happy you are with what you have. When I married Mary she was devastated but she stayed with me. Loyalty like that can’t be bought Ms Bilkins. Which is why I knew she never took my money? I’ve sent people looking for her in the past year. Her shitbag husband...“ he laughed bitterly at this and continued, “Wanted you to find the money because he believed she has it.”

“But you don’t,” I said looking him in the face. Despite his psychopathic tendencies he had obviously loved Ronnie. His cold voice actually warmed when he spoke about her. I wish I was back in my life twenty four hours ago where good was good and evil was evil. I felt for the guy and that annoyed me because he had bundled me into a van and terrorised the shit out of me. I didn’t want to feel any sympathy for him. He was the bad guy. He killed people and laundered money. Life was rarely that simple though. I pulled my thoughts back to the conversation.

“No,” he said with conviction.

“So why am I here?” I asked a bit more boldly.

“You, Ms Bilkins, are going to find my money,” he said.

“What?” I spluttered out tripping slightly as I did, “But it has nothing to do with me.” Fucking awesome! Find five million pounds of dodgy money while avoiding gangsters, killers and the police. How more farcical could my life get?

“Let’s make this simple. You find my money or I kill you,” he said menacingly. I felt the sweat break out on my face and the bile churning in my stomach. I breathed slowly willing myself not to throw up.

“How long do I have?” I asked because there was always some kind of deadline.

“You have a week,” he said and I felt like I had been smacked in the face. A fucking WEEK! Jesus Christ in a hand basket!

“Okay, fine,” I said realising I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“We’ll leave you here, Ms Bilkins,” he said and I watched in disbelief as he got into the van and fucked off leaving me in the middle of nowhere. I pulled out my mobile and rang the one person who I could rely on.

Sherry answered sleepily and said, ‘If you’re ringing me drunk to tell me you love me again, I’ll kill you biaatch.”

“Sherry, I need you,” my voice gave my agitated state away and I sobbed quickly as the horror of what had happened hit me.. I gave her the name of the street I was. She was there in fifteen minutes. She got the story out of me between snuffles while we drove .When I told her I wanted to go home she just gave me a look.

“You’re staying at my house,” she said bossily and for once I allowed her to make decisions on my behalf. I didn’t feel particularly safe at home anyways. I don’t remember much of the drive back to Sherry’s house. I just stumbled exhaustedly to the spare room to finally get some sleep.