The Sister(109)

‘I’m sorry, John, I dragged you away from your work and I shouldn’t have. I just felt so alone.’

‘It’s all right, Mum, I’m here now.’ It felt so strange to be comforting the one who had given him so much comfort, when he felt scared in the middle of the night, awakened from some bad dream, or when he’d been burning up with a red-hot fever. She was always there and now he was here for her. How life turns around.

The front door opened; a draught blew in briefly.

‘I’m back. Sorry it took so long, is everything all right?’ His father closed the door behind him and appeared in her bedroom doorway. ‘John?’ He looked at the two of them. ‘What’s happened? Is everything all right?’ He took in the looks on their faces. The struggle to come to terms with this new phase of her illness etched into them. He moved into the space the other side of her and joined in the circle of three; a trinity of unity.

Nobody said a word for a long time. Finally, she lifted her head and spoke.

‘I know about your whiskey, John, and I know you are ashamed. I know because you never were any good at keeping secrets from me, but I don’t mind, not as long as I know you can still look after me when I need you in the night.’ She smiled the kind of smile that chases clouds away after the rain.

‘I’ll always look after you,’ he said, and then he grinned. ‘I love you more than whiskey.’ He hugged her extra tight, and they embraced for a long time.





Kennedy didn’t think he’d ever forget the image of the two of them that afternoon, each holding the other. He smiled wistfully.

His phone buzzed like an angry bee in his pocket, jolting him from his thoughts, it took him a moment to recognise it was his phone. He fumbled, pulling it out complete with a box of aspirin. He pressed the answer button without looking, as he put the phone to his ear.

Something had happened. ‘What is it? What’s up?’ A sense of mild panic inflected his voice.

‘What’s the matter, Jack, is the job getting to you? No, don’t answer. Don’t interrupt. A man was arrested early this morning and I will have a real problem if he is charged, Jack. And if he is, if he is...then you’ll have a big problem, too.’

He hadn’t been able to interject; the hypnotic quality of the voice somehow rendered him speechless. Finally, words came. ‘Now you listen to me. I know who you are,’ he bluffed,

‘Stop it, Jack, you’re about to make a fool of yourself. You don’t know who I am at all, nobody does. I could be the guy outside your office pulling wires or fixing the lift. You wouldn’t know, but I know you, Jack, and I mean really know you, so you just shut up and listen to me.’

He laughed down the line. ‘This is like a scene from a bad movie.’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what it is, a really bad scene. Have you told anyone you were the last person to see Marilyn alive Friday night? No, of course you haven’t. Going to be a bit late now, don’t you think?’ The click of a cigarette lighter was followed by the sound of the caller inhaling deeply. ‘Maybe, maybe not; look, I don’t want any trouble, Jack. I have a proposition for you that keeps us all off the hook. I’ll call you with the details later.’

Kennedy faced a predicament. If he owned up to his involvement, it would lead to questions. He’d come under suspicion and he couldn’t put his parents through that. In their eyes, sleeping with a prostitute would be shame enough, becoming a suspect was not an option he cared to consider.

He would decide what to do once he’d heard the caller’s proposition.





Chapter 94



Kennedy jumped, snatching the phone out of his pocket he looked at the display. Private number. It was him!

He answered and held the phone to his ear. The caller was already talking, ‘Now listen very carefully, Jack. This is what’s going to happen. You boys are holding a Billy Wharton in the cells, you’ll arrange his release on bail, it shouldn’t be too hard when you tell your colleagues what I’m about to tell you. Wharton has a consignment of arms to collect. He’ll be getting a call, anytime in the next twenty-four hours. The guns are coming by air via Holland; they will drop them from low level into a remote field somewhere in Essex. I don’t have a location yet. Once Wharton’s out, you’ll have him under surveillance; the rest is up to you. Just think what a feather in your cap it’ll be when you and your team close down this nasty little operation.’

‘What’s in it for you?’ he asked.

‘For me? You surprise me, Jack. Here I am, trying to help you keep a consignment of weapons from falling into the hands of gangsters all over the country and you ask what’s in it for me? Potentially, you’ll be instrumental in saving hundreds of lives from drug and gun related crime. Just be grateful I chose you, my friend.’

The line clicked, cutting the connection.

He didn’t bother trying to have the call traced; all the others to him and his parents had been from cheap, disposable mobile phones. They'd managed to match the telephone numbers to prepaid SIM cards and then to the outlets that sold them. CCTV footage enabled them to identify a number of the kids he’d recruited from the streets outside the shops. He’d given them ten pounds to go in and buy the SIM’s for him.

None of the descriptions they gave police was the same twice. He was variously dark-haired, clean-shaven, blonde and bearded or shaven headed. The calls were made from different locations, and often many miles apart.