CRUEL SECRETS Page 40

  He followed her through the house and out to the car. She watched him open her door and close it behind her. Then he hopped into the driver’s side and gripped her hand. “Are you all right, Blue?” he asked, as he handed back the cross.

  “Yeah, I am, Keffa. Come on, let’s go home.”

  She looked back at the house one last time. For a second, she thought she saw her mother at the window, but it was probably just a ghost of a sick, distant memory.

  “It must have been hard for you. It’s been – what – six years since you have set foot back in that house?”

  Kelly looked down at the cross. “I did go back, after I killed Patrick.”

  Keffa swallowed hard. Maureen’s murderer was never found. He gave her a sideways glance and thought about the shed and those ropes. The laws of his world consoled himself with the notion that Maureen deserved to be killed and Kelly would have had every right.

  “I went back to say sorry to my mum. I hated her, but I’d committed the ultimate sin, and for some reason, I wanted to tell her, although I don’t know why. When I got there and let myself in, the back door was open, and she was lying there on the floor, blood everywhere. I grabbed a knife, thinking the burglar, or whoever, was still around, and then I knelt by her side and stroked her head. But she was dead. It was strange really because I was petrified when I killed Patrick, seeing all that blood, but I wasn’t scared when I saw me mum. I said my goodbyes, and I returned the knife to the kitchen drawer. I then headed back home to Rudy’s. I never killed her, you know. I think it was Eddie. He killed her, looking for the blue diamond. He must have put one in my bunny and given one to her for safekeeping. The bastard must have known that Sheila or Patrick would come for him, and the last place they would look was at Maureen’s. I dunno. It’s all a mystery.”

  Keffa had no knowledge of any diamond until today. Now, he was more concerned that Sheila would do everything in her power to get her hands on it.

  “Listen, Bluey, I don’t want to frighten you, but I think it was Sheila who killed Maureen, and what concerns me is she won’t stop until she has that diamond. I am not so sure about this. This just doesn’t add up.”

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Either give it to her, or sell it and buy yourself an army, ’cos we will need one.”

  “We?” she asked tentatively.

  “Well, you don’t think you are on ya own, do ya?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sheila was livid, after her visit to Kelly’s; she had been unable to settle all night, so she did what she always did at times of stress – got up and made a pot of Earl Grey tea.

  Patrick’s house in North London was in her name, like most of what he had owned. She had always been the brains behind the outfit. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, as her brother had, she was really the wild child, who dragged Patrick along with her. The North London protection businesses were funded by her and yet Patrick was the face behind it. That was until he got taken over by Eddie. Sheila was a good few years older than Eddie, and she secretly fancied the pants off him, despite marrying Jack.

  As she sat there, up at the grand dining table, sipping her tea, she noticed the photo album open at a photo of Naomi – it was the one she’d shown to Kelly. The album was Patrick’s, and if she was honest with herself, she wouldn’t have recognised Naomi in the street. So, when she’d received the news that not only her daughter had been killed at the hands of the Ravens, but that Naomi’s child had also been handed over to Maureen, it didn’t move her an inch. The one burning passion was for the blue diamond.

  It had been her idea from the start, when she’d first married Jack. She was the true genius behind the heist to steal the safe deposit boxes. She knew what was hidden in one of them and cleverly planted the seeds in Eddie’s head. Of course, he boasted he was the schemer. Not that she cared, though, as long as she could get her hands on the most sought-after precious blue gem in the collection.

  Her father was a very wealthy landowner back in Ireland. He had a long-term feud with Lord Charlton over money, due to an inheritance that rightfully should have gone to the Mahoneys and not the Charltons. The one item that they had really argued over was a blue diamond worth more than the two estates put together. After her father died, she made it her life’s mission to get that diamond back, and for years she had Lord Charlton, her second cousin, followed. It was then she discovered he had visited a building specialising in rare and valuable diamonds in London, and she deduced that was where he kept the blue gem.

  She sipped her tea and shuddered. Years of planning had gone into holding that special gem in her hand, but it seemed she was now faced with a woman who, somehow, made her uneasy. She could have held a gun to her face or even had her tortured to find out the gem’s whereabouts, but something had stopped her. She was no stranger to the art of gaining information, or, for that matter, getting her hands bloodied. In fact, she had told Eddie that the only way into that specialist building was to use Mickey ‘no thumbs’ to interrogate a security manager working there to reveal the locations of keys, passwords, and outside patrols. She was spared some details, but she did read in the London Evening Standard that a man had been found in a skip with evidence of previous torture marks, and that he’d had his throat slashed, not far from those premises, and around the time she thought the heist had taken place. But now, at sixty, she left the violence to her sons and the others in her firm.

  Her dear old brother lay dead in that grave, and he may as well have taken the fucking diamond with him, for all she knew. How had this all happened?

  As the brains behind the heist, she was the only one who knew full well that of the two blue diamonds in the collection, the smaller one was worth in the region of £10 million and the larger gem was valued at around £1 million. Her plan was to play off Eddie against Jack and Jack against Eddie, with neither knowing all the details. She intended that Eddie would double-cross Jack and Mickey by stealing the larger diamond, duping him into believing he would be in possession of the more valuable gem. He never even questioned the possibility that the smaller diamond was only worth a few hundred grand and why would he? Naturally, Eddie’s knowledge of diamonds was no greater than the average person, so he readily believed her, and assumed that the larger gem would therefore be the more valuable one, worth £1 million. But he was kept in ignorance of the 4Cs and that size is only one of the criteria for assessing the value of a precious stone.

  At the same time, she had instructed Jack to cause a diversion long enough for him to steal the most valuable gem. Once Jack had handed her the ‘real deal’ for safekeeping, Sheila then planted seeds in Eddie’s head about the double-cross, leading him to kill Jack and Mickey, which she knew he would.

  So, all should have gone sweet until her brother became very greedy. He knew Eddie was in possession of a diamond worth a decent amount. It was not as valuable as the one they already had their hands on, but he still wanted it. Since Eddie was in prison, it was obvious he would have hidden it, and the most likely place was at Maureen’s. Sheila found out that Patrick planned to visit Maureen en route to a dealer who was buying their most precious gem. Once at Maureen’s, he intended on rooting around until he found the one Eddie had stolen, after which he would sell both gems to the dealer. But Patrick’s murder changed things. Not only was Eddie’s diamond still out there somewhere but Sheila and Patrick’s one had also mysteriously disappeared from Patrick’s possessions. Sheila had someone on the force who had taken a look at the inventory of everything logged by the police, but the only item of value was a gold Rolex watch. Now, both the diamonds were missing and from meeting her granddaughter and watching her closely, when she virtually clammed up and had the audacity to kick her out of the house, she had her suspicions she could be the only link to this saga.

  All her idiot brother had to do was to take their gem to the dealer as planned and have the money deposited in her bank account. There had been no need to launder the substant
ial cash, as she’d had the fake certificates all made-up, another clever little stunt she’d planned. A maid, Kitty Buckle, had secured herself a job at Lord Charlton’s stately home and was paid the minimum wage. Sheila knew the girl and offered her a fat sum to get her hands on the certificate. It was too easy, and by the end of the week, Kitty had the certificate in her bag and handed over to Sheila. A week later, she slyly returned the certificate, with Lord Charlton none the wiser. It had been a great money earner for the young woman and it continued to be. Sheila was laughing, now she had the certificate copied and changed in her name. As soon as Lord Charlton died, Kitty snatched the original certificate and burnt it in the fire. The gem was now legally Sheila’s.

  Biding her time, waiting for Lord Charlton to pop his clogs, had been a shrewd move because there would be no question as to the rightful owner of this gemstone. Bloody years she had waited for Lord Charlton to die, so much so, she’d almost wanted to finish him off herself. To add insult to injury, the old bastard had to go and die when Eddie was due out of prison. She clenched her fist; if only Patrick had gone and done what he was told. Why he hadn’t just gone straight to the dealer was beyond her. The larger blue gem was worth peanuts in comparison, and yet she should have guessed that her little brother would go after it; he may have been a greedy sod, but perhaps he thought that in some way, by taking the other diamond from Eddie, it would be payback for always playing second fiddle to the man.

  Sipping her tea, she allowed a sardonic grin. Eddie had been good company, that was for sure. Fucking everything in sight, he had even given her a good thrusting, every so often. She wasn’t such a bad-looking woman in her day, always managing to look younger and keep herself tidier than many. Eddie liked sex and so did she, but she had standards. Jack was a useless fuck, and so she never batted an eyelid when she was riding Eddie in the other room.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Patrick, her little brother; she had loved him, despite those negative thoughts about his greediness. Of all the times he could have died at the hands of another firm, he was killed by a fifteen-year-old child. Her suspicions that her brother liked younger girls, and boys, of course, were probably not far off the mark. She knew he fancied Eddie, but he married Eddie’s bitch of a sister for status. It wasn’t long before his sexual foibles were uncovered. She’d heard what went on at the trial and how Kelly had said Patrick had tried to rape her. She certainly wasn’t surprised, but, then, did Kelly get her hands on her diamond and do a runner?

  The night Sheila went to Maureen’s house to find the diamond, Maureen looked so different. The once bubbly tart was a weak and pathetic woman, now on her knees praying for God to help her. Sheila was angry that Maureen didn’t know where the diamond was and even more livid that she was praying like some nun for God’s deliverance. Strange that: it almost made her question her own destiny. Would she, herself, go to heaven or hell? With six murders under her belt by her own hands and countless others by her orders, she knew, as Maureen prayed, that she was very unlikely to go to heaven in the express lane. Yes, hell was her destiny, for sure. The wailing and praying was more than she could take, and so to shut Maureen up, she snatched her hair, pulled her up off the floor, and like a knife through butter, slit her throat. More shocking for Sheila though was the fact that Maureen hadn’t even struggled, as if she was ready to accept her fate.

  The police inventory, the search through Patrick’s belongings, including his suitcases left untouched there in the hallway, and her systematic fine-toothed comb inspection, revealed nothing. So, her conclusion was that Kelly had removed that gem from Patrick’s luggage. One way or another, though, she would get it back.

  *

  Kelly was under orders to pack her bags and stay with Cyril for a while, at least until Keffa could put matters right. He would have to convince Sheila she was barking up the wrong tree.

  “Keffa, I ain’t scared of her. I will front her out, if she turns up again.”

  He shook his head. “No disrespect, Blue, but I have known you since you were a kid, and you don’t know the way people like her operate. Trust me, she will have a gun up your fucking hooter and a knife in your back.”

  Kelly stood defiantly, with her hands on her hips. “Well, give me a gun, then.”

  Keffa turned around, clutching his head. “You ain’t no Jesse fucking James. You ain’t from this life. I swear to God, she and her boys are lunatics.”

  “I ain’t from this life, eh? I ain’t from a normal family, and I think I have more bottle than you give me credit for.”

  Keffa gave her a sombre glance and had to agree. “Babe, I know you have a lot of guts. I should know, ’cos you fronted me out. Listen, I don’t want you in harm’s way. It’s only because I care.”

  Kelly agreed and sighed, so she made the call and it was all arranged. Ditto drove and griped all the way because Legend was in the back of the car, dribbling down his neck. Reggie was silent, too afraid to move too quickly, in case Legend bit him. As they drove up the lane, Ditto stopped moaning and started to laugh. “This is fucking mental. Look at the size of that house. Cor, your uncle must be a real rich geezer.”

  Kelly laughed. “Yeah, he is a lord now, ya know. Well, he thinks he is.”

  As soon as the gates opened and they approached the mansion, there was pandemonium. Frank and Stein, Cyril’s two Rottweilers, had spotted Legend and were going nuts. Reggie was curled in a ball. The fifty kilos of mastiff was on his lap and was trying to get at the dogs. Cyril came running out in a long nightshirt and a shotgun, screaming at the dogs to stop. He fired the gun in the air and the dogs instantly backed away. Ronnie came out with two heavy chains and clipped them to the rabid-looking beasts before he dragged them away. Cyril was out of breath and laughing at the same time.

  Kelly jumped out of the car, followed by Legend. But Ditto and Reggie were fixed to their seats. They were afraid of Legend, let alone two monster Rottweilers.

  Cyril gave Kelly a hug. “I am glad you’re here, my babe. I think it’s safer. That mental midget, Sheila, is a ruthless bitch, and Keffa’s right, she will come for ya. You and Laurel and Hardy can stay as long as you want.” He looked down at Legend. “Good boy! I s’pose you’re the little fucker that bit Eddie.” He stroked his head and laughed.

  Ditto and Reggie warily stepped out of the car and looked about, still nervous about the two Rotties. They followed Kelly and Cyril into the grand house, nudging each other and giggling.

  Cyril took them into the drawing room and excused himself to get dressed.

  Kelly was laughing at the boys’ shock of sitting in a stately home surrounded by pomp and antiques. She knew they felt out of place, by the way they sat so straight-backed and nervous. Yet, to her, not that she lived like a lady, it didn’t feel so odd. Far from it; maybe it was Cyril who made her feel at home. Legend lay across her feet, totally untroubled.

  Wearing his jeans and a plaid shirt, Cyril returned. “Right, then, let’s get sorted,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “It seems to me that we have a situation, and you, my girl, are gonna have to trust me on this.” His head perched forward, waiting for an okay.

  Kelly nodded.

  “You two boys, I take it, aren’t clowns, are ya?”

  Ditto and Reggie shook their heads in unison. They weren’t going to argue with Cyril; he had an old-school reputation and was obviously a gangster in the true sense of the word, unlike the youngsters running around causing mayhem selling a few grams of Charlie and pulling out a blade to show they meant business. There was a big divide between the real old-timers and the new kids on the block, and it had a lot to do with serious organised crime. The oldies gave more thought to planning their skulduggery; furthermore, they believed in a strict moral code, unlike their modern counterparts. One part if it was you don’t hurt women or children.

  Cyril walked and talked like a dangerous man, and even now, in his sixties, he still commanded attention. Kelly, on the other hand, saw him for what he meant to
her: he was a soppy old git and she loved him dearly. Ditto and Reggie were not fooled by his extrovert ways. As far as they were concerned, he may be a bit nutty, but he was a player. They, of course, had heard all about the alleged nefarious activities in which Cyril had played an active role and simply knew him as a legend of his era.

  “Now, boys, this is the closest I have to a daughter. She tells me that you two have looked after her for years now, and so I can trust you, can’t I?”

  Still afraid to talk, they nodded.

  “Right, yes, good, good. ’Cos, that poisonous fucking dwarf is gonna find out soon enough that our Kelly is ’ere. She will send her boys, and by that I don’t mean her two half-witted sons, I mean her fucking fanny-licking minders. So, it’s like this. I will not be pulling any punches or taking any fucking prisoners. So, boys, what you may witness, you are gonna have to take a blind eye to. Got me?”

  Ditto smiled. “Honestly, Mr Reardon, you can trust us. We always have Bluey’s back.”

  Cyril nodded, now satisfied. “Right, come with me, then. Let’s get sorted.”

  They all followed him down to the cellar and watched as he pulled back a rug to reveal the door to a secret underfloor room. They realised how strong he was, when he lifted the heavy trap door with one hand.

  The wooden staircase led to a massive basement. It looked much like an army storage unit, with shotguns, rifles, handguns, knives, rounds of ammunitions, and cans of toxic substances.

  Kelly gasped, “Christ, Cyril, what’s all this for?”

  Cyril laughed, “Oh, my girl, you have a lot to learn. I hardly worked in a fucking office, now did I? Anyway, boys, grab yourselves a gun and make sure you have ammunition.”

  Ditto and Reggie were placid in the grand scheme of things, not having handled a baseball bat never mind a gun before. It showed too: they looked a bundle of nerves.

  “Oh, don’t fucking tell me, ya ain’t fired a gun? Well, boys, man up, ’cos this might get a bit messy. ’Ere, I tell ya what, Frank ‘the butcher’ and Blakey are coming over. They can take you out the back and give you a few lessons. Think of it as a day out clay pigeon shooting.”