‘Cause he’s a retard and ain’t from my loins.’
‘It’s not his fault he’s backward,’ Tommy said, looking serious.
George’s eyes narrowed. ‘What you mean by that?’
‘Nothing, forget it—’
‘Come on, spit it out — don’t be a wimp like Carl,’ he said aggressively.
‘The boy’s the way he is because you knocked him about.’
George shrugged. ‘Weren’t my fault he tripped and cracked his skull...’ He looked over at Jane, who was behind the counter plating up some food. He snapped his fingers. ‘Bring us another coffee, luv.’
Jane tried hard to keep a pleasant smile on her face as she put a spoonful of coffee in a clean cup, then saw Carl walk into the cafe wearing blue coveralls. He looked exactly as Rachel had described him: in his late twenties, extremely handsome, with sea-blue eyes and long wavy blond hair.
‘You found a bird for the wedding yet after that tart gave you the boot?’ George asked as Carl joined them.
‘Not yet—’
‘Well, you better do cause I’ve got to fork out the dosh for two hundred meals and I ain’t having an empty seat in the marquee because of you.’
Jane put George’s coffee on the table.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked Carl.
‘A decent woman would be good,’ George said with a deep guttural laugh. ‘Come to think of it, gorgeous, what you doing this Saturday?’
Carl looked embarrassed.
Jane felt like telling him it was none of his business, but instead said, ‘I don’t know yet. Why?’
‘You fancy going to a wedding with him?’ George pointed his knife at Carl.
‘But we haven’t even met,’ Jane replied.
‘Another rejection, son. You’d probably get a yes from a poofter, though, with hair like yours.’
He smiled nastily, then lit a cigar with a gold Dunhill gas lighter with the initials GR on it.
Jane felt sorry for Carl, who looked hurt by George’s gibes. He sounded totally dejected as he ordered a coffee and sausage sandwich.
‘He’s got errands to run, so he ain’t got time for food,’ George said, taking a large wedge of cash out of his pocket and a piece of notepaper. ‘I want ya to go down the builder’s merchants and get some stuff for Smudge.’
He handed Carl the note and some cash. Carl pocketed them and then got up to go to the toilet.
Jane picked up the dirty plates from the table and took them to the sink behind the counter. Rachel came up to the counter to pay for her food and Jane handed her the bill. She had a folded five-pound note in her hand, which she passed to Jane, along with a few bits of notepaper, which Jane slipped into her pocket under the counter.
She was wiping down a table when Carl came out of the toilet and approached her.
‘I’m sorry about my stepfather — he likes to think he’s funny, but he isn’t.’
‘It’s all right, you’ve no need to apologize.’
‘I was wondering if you would do me a favor.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘Would you come to my stepsister’s wedding with me?’ he asked awkwardly.
For a moment she was lost for words.
‘Sorry, I’m being stupid. Of course you’re not going to say yes — you don’t know me from Adam.’
He started to walk off. Her first instinct was to let him go. After all, it was a pretty odd thing to do — to invite someone to a wedding you’d only just met. She wondered if he was a bit simple, or just determined to prove George wrong, but then she quickly thought what a great opportunity this could be to help the team identify other associates of the Ripley brothers.
‘Go on, then. I love a good wedding. Where is it?’
His face lit up.
‘All Saint’s Church in Chigwell at three o’clock on Saturday, then the reception’s in a marquee at my stepdad’s house just up the road.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘I don’t know your name.’
‘It’s Jane.’
‘I’m Carl. Would you like to go for a drink before Saturday? Then we could actually get to know each other a bit. Give you a chance to duck out of the wedding if you decide you don’t fancy coming with me,’ he added with a grin that Jane could see hid a touch of sadness.
‘That sounds like a good idea. OK.’
‘Do you have a number I can call you on?’
‘Er... I don’t have a phone — but I could meet you outside the Empire Ballroom in Leicester Square, say tonight at 7:30.’
‘That’d be great — I’ll see you then,’ he said, beaming.
As he left the cafe Jane wondered what Murphy would say when she told him.
‘Hey, Jane, what you doing?’ Nick called out, interrupting her thoughts. ‘These dirty plates won’t clean themselves.’
‘Can I just nip to the toilet?’
‘Mamma mia! Go on then.’
She closed the toilet door, then got Rachel’s notes out of her pocket.
M1 asked M2 if he had sorted the driver out for Saturday and M2 nodded. He also asked M2 if his man had spoken with the woman. I don’t know what M2 said, but M1 looked angry and said, ‘He was only supposed to put the frighteners on her.’ Then he spoke about someone called Carl and said he was a retarded wimp.
Jane suspected George was referring to a wedding car driver for Saturday, but the reference to the man putting the frighteners on a woman sent a shiver down her spine. She was sure it was something to do with Fiona Simpson. She remembered Rachel telling her that George Ripley had said to Tommy that ‘Riley’ was a loose cannon. Since Aidan O’Reilly worked for Tommy Ripley, she wondered if he was the man George was referring to. If he was, then it followed that O’Reilly was in the Crown on Saturday night.
She suddenly felt nauseous thinking about Kingston, wondering if it was more than mere coincidence that he was in the same boxing club as Tommy Ripley. He’d also been in the Crown shortly before Fiona Simpson died, and said the pub was quiet. It struck her that if Aidan O’Reilly had been there, Kingston would have known, or at least suspected, it was him. Like everyone on the team, he’d seen the photo the RUC had faxed over of the six feet four O’Reilly, who now also had a cut on his forehead. Her mind was spinning and her stomach churning at the thought that Kingston might have deliberately distracted Fiona Simpson while O’Reilly slipped into the pub and hid in the toilet. The thought that he could be complicit in her death and leaking information to the Ripleys was beyond comprehension, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
There was a knock on the toilet door.
‘You all right, Jane?’ Nick asked.
‘Yes, just a bit of a queasy stomach.’
‘OK, make a sure you spray the air freshener.’
When she came out of the toilet the Ripley brothers had gone. She took their coffee cups and tucked them away under the counter to take back to the office with her, so Dabs could fingerprint them.
Cam put the phone down and turned to Murphy.
‘Fingerprint Bureau say the prints sent over by the RUC are a match for Aidan O’Reilly. George Ripley is in his office at the showroom, and CO11 tailed the suspect Carl to a builder’s merchant where he purchased some coveralls.’
‘Do we know how many?’
‘Four.’
‘Looks like they’re getting their outfits together for a robbery and Carl is their errand boy. After we nick ’em all on the pavement he might be the weak link and cough up about any other robberies they’ve done.’
‘I also spoke to Tommy Ripley’s bank manager. He took out a forty grand loan to buy the ground floor of the old cinema and turn it into a snooker hall. He’s already late on the payments.’
‘So, he’s desperate for money. What about George Ripley?’
‘According to the tax man he doesn’t make a fortune, and certainly not enough for his kind of lifestyle.’