As they were leaving the mortuary assistant pulled the green sheet over Eddie’s naked body.
‘What are the odds Metcalf lumbers me with Eddie’s death investigation because of the connection to Julie Ann’s murder?’ Bradfield turned, looked at Eddie and shook his head. ‘What a waste, and only nineteen years old.’
Chapter eleven
Early the next morning John Bentley pulled up in a mark 1 white Ford transit van outside a row of garages off Masons Street at the far end of the Pembridge Estate. He unlocked the heavy-duty padlock he’d fitted to the garage door and, grabbing the handle, heaved it up on its metal rails. He had a quick look around before returning the few yards to his van and reversing it up to the open garage door. He got out and had another cursory look around before squeezing between the van and garage pillar. Opening the transit’s rear doors he removed a sledgehammer, pickaxe and spade, then placed them in a large empty metal storage box at the back of the garage. Returning to the van he leaned in and started to drag out a heavy-duty electric Kango hammer drill, which caused a loud scraping sound as it slid along the van’s metal floor. ‘Bloody thing weighs a ton,’ he muttered to himself as he decided to try and lift rather than drag it. He heaved for breath as he grabbed it with both arms and slowly walking backwards looked over his shoulder at the metal box and realized that it was too long to fit in. Unable to hold the Kango any longer he placed it on the ground and removed the concrete drill-bit so it was shorter. He lifted it into the metal box and stood with his hands on his hips, taking deep breaths before locking the box and covering it with an old tarpaulin. As he was closing the van doors he was startled when he heard a voice.
‘You heard what’s going down?’
John looked to the side of the van and saw his brother.
‘Jesus Christ, Dave, what you doin’ creeping up on me like that?’
‘I wasn’t creepin’, I just came to warn ya that the Old Bill’s been nosing round the Kingsmead Estate and Edgar House since that young girl got murdered in the playground.’
John glanced at his brother. He was using his walking stick, his twisted leg making him lean over at the waist.
‘I already know that, but if I’d known she was gonna get herself killed before I rented this poxy garage then I wouldn’t have bothered, would I?’ he replied sarcastically.
‘I just wanted to warn you to be careful, that’s all.’
‘I am. Besides, if the rozzers are all busy looking for a murderer over on the Kingsmead they ain’t gonna be sniffin’ around here so much and that’s better for us, isn’t it?’
‘Suppose so. You know that old big-mouth Ma Phillips?’
‘Mum’s friend, what about her?’
‘She was in the street earlier, screaming her head off and accusing some detectives of murdering her grandson Eddie. She wants to form a protest group outside the nick.’
‘She’s always liked the sound of her own voice,’ John said, jumping into the van.
He turned the engine on and moved the van forward six feet before getting out with the padlock and key.
‘Did you get the Kango?’ David asked.
‘Yeah, bloody thing weighed a fuckin’ ton,’ John replied as he replaced the padlock on the garage door.
‘Should have asked me — I’d have helped carry it in.’
‘I was out early cos I had to drive out through the Blackwall Tunnel to a dealer in Kent for a cash buy. He assured me it’s untraceable, but he was a nasty sod and didn’t even help me lift it.’
‘Maybe it might be better to take it back and exchange it for two smaller ones,’ David suggested.
‘Are you havin’ a laugh or just bleedin’ plain stupid?’ he asked scathingly as he secured the padlock.
‘No, stands to reason they’d be lighter and do the same job, only a bit slower, but if you are using two together then—’
‘Shut up.’
‘You got the cutting gear organized?’
John glared at his brother and whispered through gritted teeth, ‘Keep your mouth shut — you wanna telegraph what we’re workin’ on?’
‘There’s nobody about, and I was only askin’.’
‘I don’t want to use the same fence for everything on the job, it’s too risky. So I’m goin’ even further afield for that — believe me I’m lookin’ out for you and me. By the way are you comin’ to visit Dad this afternoon?’
‘Yeah, of course I am. Gimme a ride back to Mum’s wiv you?’
John got into the driving seat and his brother moved round to the passenger side. It never ceased to infuriate David, the way he had to lean heavily on his walking stick to swing his gammy leg onto the foot-panel of John’s van to get in. His strength was in his upper body, which he demonstrated when he was able to lift his body weight by gripping onto the side of the door. He plonked himself down on the passenger seat. He was glad the garage was only a short distance from the flat as he hated using his wheelchair. Some days, though, he had no choice, particularly as he couldn’t walk far or stand up for long.
John drove from the rented garage onto a side road that skirted the Pembridge Estate. Passing Edgar House he suddenly slammed on the brakes causing David to lurch forward and nearly hit his head on the dashboard as the van came to a halt.
‘What was it, a cat?’ David asked as there was no other traffic and no one crossing the road.
John banged the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. ‘How many times have I asked her to stay away from those old cows? All they do is gossip and yak about nothing.’
At first David wondered who his brother was talking about, but looking up and across the road he could see their mother, her hair in rollers, and wearing her wraparound apron and carpet slippers. She was standing with her arms folded and nodding her head as she talked to a group of women standing next to a police ‘Appeal for Information’ notice about the Julie Ann Collins murder. They were all gossiping and giving a mouthful to a group of kids who were playing and shouting abuse at each other.
‘She misses doin’ her cleaning and having someone to chat to,’ David said in her defence.
‘You know why I stopped that. To top it all the stupid bitch came home with a fuckin’ policewoman the other day. I can’t wait to find another place and get out of this dump. When I’m gone she can go to her bingo and do whatever she friggin’ wants. But until it’s over she stays put, and you are supposed to be keepin’ an eye on her while I’m out graftin’.’
‘Lemme go and get her,’ David said as he pulled the door-handle.
‘No, just leave it. The old man says we should put her in a nursing home, and if she’s any more trouble that’s where she’s bloody well going.’
‘You can’t do that to her — she’s our mother.’
‘Yeah, but if she screws this up for us I’ll break her soddin’ neck.’
David ignored John, got out of the van and, using his walking stick to lean on, limped towards the group of women.
John leant over and lowered the passenger window. ‘She’s not getting in here, so you can walk her home,’ he shouted as he drove slowly past his brother.
Watching David walk made John apprehensive about using him on the job. He had mentioned his worries to his dad on a previous prison visit, but his father took the view that families should stick together and that David should be the lookout. His dad had also told him to keep the team numbers to a minimum, and only bring in people they knew they could trust with their lives. John just hoped that David’s lameness wouldn’t be a liability.
When David and his mother returned to the flat a few minutes later John was sitting in the kitchen working out the finances in a small black notebook. Hearing the front door slam he snapped it closed.