Tara (77 page)

'OK, time to make a deal,' he said. 'We give you the keys of the cellar. We scarper now. Can't say fairer than that!'

'No deals! Get down those steps now,' Tara commanded. 'Micky, take the keys from Carl, go first and help Harry out. Any funny business and I'll blast one of you.'

The gun was warm in her hand, it had become an extension of her body. She understood why some men revered guns, they gave instant power. Now she had conquered her fear of it, she knew she could pull that trigger again, even if that meant killing someone.

Chapter 36

'What a nice surprise! How are you, love?' Queenie purred down the phone. 'No, Tara's not here. What's up, you sound a bit agitated?'

'Oh, Queenie,' Amy blurted out. 'I'm probably totally off my trolley imagining things, but I'm worried about Tara.' She hastily explained the telephone conversations with her daughter and Josh. 'Josh almost seemed to be checking up on her, whatever he said, and he told me Harry was missing!'

'Well, he ain't officially,' Queenie said.'I mean he's phoned here. But there is something funny going on, 'Arry don't sound like hisself.'

The two women talked their way round everything they knew for certain.

' 'E's never asked once 'ow George's back is,' Queenie said. 'And like 'e always used to ask what I was baking, and pound to a penny if 'e was away 'e'd say, "Save me a bit, Queenie". But we didn't get none of that, just what 'e was doin' and stuff. I might not be so clever, Amy, but I don't think our 'Arry would change just 'cos he was in Germany.'

'So you don't think it's him phoning?'

'I dunno, Amy. Needles is getting worried, too. He tried to complain to 'Any about something what Duke was doing at the club and 'Arry told him to mind his own business. A couple of days later Duke comes down on 'im like a ton of bricks, threatening 'im wiv the sack.'

'Well, Queenie, I honestly think Tara's got some idea where he is and she's gone off to find him. But the more I think about the place she mentioned, the more scared I get.'

Queenie reassured her she would pass all this on to George and get him to phone back the minute he came in.

'What is it you fear about Lympne?' Greg asked Amy as she sat staring into space after her call to Queenie.

It was a warm evening, the windows in Greg's sitting room were wide open, but Amy was shivering, her face drawn and pale.

'Bill,' she said simply, tossing back her blonde hair. 'Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence that Tara should ask me about her father's secret place?'

'Bill's dead,' Greg said gently.

'But what if he isn't?' She raised her face to look at him, eyes dark with anxiety. 'His brother identified the body, not me. He hated George and Harry, he burned down their warehouse. Maybe he's been planning this for years. Suppose it was him who killed Mother?'

'You're being silly now,' Greg sat down beside her and drew her close, ruffling her hair. Deep down he shared her anxiety. 'Would you feel better if we went and talked to the police about it?'

'Let's just wait for George to phone back.' She smiled weakly. 'Who knows! Tara might walk in through the door any minute.'

It was after seven when the phone finally rang. Amy leaped across the room to answer it.

'Oh, George.' She sighed with relief. 'Tell me I'm imagining things?'

'I can't, darlin',' he said in his strong voice. 'Unless I'm going loopy, too. I've just had a word with Needles and Tony and they aren't any happier than us. Apparently Duke's sacked some of 'Arry's old staff and replaced them with new people. They don't know whether they can trust Dennis and Alec, either. It's very 'ard for them to be totally blunt with me, because for all they know my boy might be right in up to his ears with Duke, planning some big scam. But all three of us have this feeling it ain't 'Arry that's been phoning. Oh, 'e gets the voice right, but 'e ain't got the soul of 'Arry. None of the little jokes, know what I mean?'

'What should we do then? Do you think it's relevant that she asked me about a place called Lympne?' She told him all she remembered about the place and how Bill felt about it.

'I can't see 'im coming back to the East End even if he didn't die in that accident,' George said firmly. 'If he put so much as one foot in the manor, someone would talk. But one thing Needles told me was interesting. Someone broke into the club last night. Well, not broke in. Stayed in after it closed. Nothing was taken, it seems, but 'e 'eard Duke talking about a drawer being forced up in one of the games rooms and a window left open up in the attics. Needles reckons it was Tara.'

'And she found something about Lympne?'

'Could be! You say Bill found this place while he was in the Army, 'e could've told one of his mates. Or it could be they's using the airport. But I think I'll go down the nick now and get them to check it out. Let's just hope I don't make things worse.'

'George, if Harry's being held at Lympne and that Duke's a phoney, it stands to reason something big is going on. If Tara has gone there alone to try and rescue Harry –' She stopped, fear twisting her stomach as she imagined her daughter walking straight into a gang's hideout.

'I'll go down the nick now,' George said gently. 'Now don't get yer knickers in a twist. We could 'ave it all wrong.'

George knew they hadn't got it wrong. He'd lived among villains for too long to misread foul play. He'd been certain it wasn't Harry on the line during the third telephone call when Harry failed to wish him a happy birthday. But knowing something and proving it were two different matters, especially when your son was involved with heavy-duty rascals. To speak out too loudly was to court disaster. Harry could be in concrete boots at the bottom of the Thames by now and if Tara got too close it would be curtains for her too.

'Whatcha goin' to do then, love?' Queenie asked as he sat staring into space.

'I'll have to go down the nick.' He looked up at Queenie and saw the distress in her eyes. 'If' Arry's got himself in over 'is 'ead and Tara gets hurt by it, I'll never forgive 'im. Where did I go wrong with 'im, Queenie? I thought by just lovin' 'im, keepin' 'im close to me, it would be enough, but it ain't.'

Queenie didn't reply for a moment, but put her arms round George and enveloped him in her large bosom.

'Don't ever think you failed 'im,' she said softly/You're a good man, George, and so is that son of yours. Now you get down that nick with your head held high. Believe in your boy, stand by 'im. That's what Tara's doing.'

'Best day's work I ever did was marry you.' He lifted his head. 'You was given the right name sure enough, you're a real queen!'

'I just want you to get on to the local police down there, get them to check out that 'ouse,' George repeated. 'There's something going on, something nasty, and a young girl's gone down there and walked right into it.' It was well after midnight and George had been given the runaround ever since he arrived at the police station three hours earlier. They behaved as if it were a joke, especially when he brought up the subject of Bill MacDonald being alive.

'You what?' Inspector Ronald Harrison gave a loud guffaw, his sallow face suddenly brighter. 'Leave it out, George! We got enough trouble on our patch without Bill MacDonald rising from his coffin.'

George had known Ron since they were boys. Ron was a good copper, but his opinion of George's story was coloured by Harry's record, the clientele who drank and gambled at his club and a conviction that the whole place was kept alive by dirty money.

'You know as well as I do that MacDonald burned down my ware'ouse,' George insisted. 'You know 'e killed Father Glynn. Well, what starting price would you put on 'im staging his own death to avoid capture, then planning the ruin of my boy and me? He could 'ave strangled Mabel Randall down in Somerset, Amy says this 'ouse in Kent was his favourite place and we all know that stretch of coast is a smugglers' haunt.'

'Bill MacDonald weren't bright enough for all that. He was drunk all the time!'

'You've forgotten his Army service, ain't you?' George raised an eyebrow quizzically. 'War hero, survived in the jungle for God knows 'ow long. I'd say something like this was right up 'is street.'

Ron Harrison saw the conviction in George's eyes. In recent weeks he'd heard several stories about Harry. He was in Germany, he'd been buried in a tunnel doing a robbery and was dead before he could be dug out, he was supposed to have run off to South America after a death threat. Putting all the rumours and facts together one thing was clear; Harry Collins had disappeared and the Top Cat Club was almost certainly the base for some criminal activity.

'OK, leave it with me,' he sighed. 'I'll contact the local police and get them to have a sniff round. When did you say Tara phoned her mother?'

'About ten this morning. Josh Bergman phoned Amy around one-thirty, 'e said she'd already left 'er flat. So if she went to Hythe she could have been there by three or four in the afternoon.'

'Leave me your number and Amy's,' Ron said. 'Now for God's sake, clear off, George. I'll ring as soon as I've got something to tell you.'

As George was leaving the police station, Josh was struggling to get his key in the door. He was drunk, falling down, unable to form words. Yet he still hadn't managed to silence the raging fear inside him.

He and Duke had met at eight, in the Markham in King's Road. He was sober then, but when he heard that Tara had been captured at Lympne, he started to drink in earnest.

'She's locked up with Harry. They'll deal with them both in the morning after they've made the pick-up.' Duke reported it as coldly as if he were talking about two stray dogs.

'I didn't plan on murder,' Josh whispered. The pub was crowded with stoned students and hippies listening intently to Santana. 'There's got to be another way.'

'You wanted Harry out of the picture, as I remember,' Duke reminded him, casting his cold blue eyes derisively around the bar. 'If you play for big stakes there's always the chance the game can go against you. It's no good blaming us about the girl, that poncy actor friend of yours could have phoned her, too. It was your bright idea to let her think Harry was sick of her.'

'But she's so talented. I don't know what I'll do,' Josh pleaded. 'My business will fail without her.'

Duke looked at Josh contemptuously. 'I've always been a bastard,' he hissed through thin, cruel lips. 'I've made a living out of being one. But I've never resorted to foul play to get a woman. Even with Harry out the way you wouldn't get her. She's too fuckin' bright, for starters. You'd better pray they put her down, because if they don't she'll come gunning for you.'

'I could cool her down.' Josh's brown eyes welled up with tears.

Duke snorted with laughter. 'Cool her down! You must be joking! That girl's got guts. She'd eat you for breakfast! Stop snivelling, man. You'll have enough money to do anything you want by tomorrow. Even a pathetic little Yid can pull a bird if he's got money.'

'How dare you speak to me like that?' Josh's eyes flashed with anger. 'I put up the money for this. I don't expect to be attacked by someone who works for me.'

'Let's just get one thing straight,' Duke snarled, his thin lip curling back like a savage dog. 'You just bought into this job. Until you got careless and left something in your house for that girl to find, there wasn't even a connection between you and the rest of it. You've put everything in jeopardy and, if you end up in the firing line when they find her body, too bloody bad!'

Duke left the pub after that, but that last line of his nagged all night. It didn't matter how much drink he downed, it was still there like a toothache. Tara had to go, there was no alternative, but the thought of someone firing a bullet into that lovely body was a nightmare vision.

It wasn't meant to be like this. Duke was supposed to disappear from the club once this deal was all settled. Then Harry's body would turn up after several weeks, along with enough evidence to put him firmly in the frame. Josh was actually planning to be the one who made the police look for Harry, so Tara would feel indebted to him. But now everything had gone wrong.

He fell on to his lounge floor and just lay there. The room was spinning round and he knew he was going to vomit, but he couldn't get up. He could see Tara standing in the doorway as she had earlier in the day, in that big shirt and the too big jeans, her hair hanging wet around her beautiful face. Why couldn't he be satisfied with having her as a friend and his designer? What kind of evil was there in him that he had to possess everything?

He knew as he vomited across his carpet that things would never be good again for him. His father was very fond of the expression, 'As ye sow, so shall ye reap', and now it was harvest time.

George beckoned to Needles through the club doorway. Any other time it would be heartening to hear the raucous laughter from the packed bar and observe the group of six in evening dress going upstairs to the gaming rooms, but tonight George would rather see the place torched.

'What is it, George?' Needles came out, glancing back to make sure he wasn't being observed.

Briefly George related his conversation with Ron Harrison down at the nick. 'I'm not happy to wait until the plod stir themselves,' George explained. 'Do you fancy coming down there tonight?'

Needles' big face lit up with boyish delight. 'Not 'alf. The only trouble is we ain't going to finish early tonight, there's a big game on.'

'Can't you make out you're ill?' George suggested. 'Or your wife is?'

'I'll do me best, but it would be better to wait and take Tony too.' A cloud came back to the big man's face. 'Don't wanna be funny, George, but you ain't so young and sprightly no more!'

'I'd walk through fire to protect my boy,' George said fiercely. 'But I suppose you're right, one push and I'd go down. Look, I'll go home. Phone me when you get out and I'll pick you up.'

George sat down heavily on the settee. It was after two and he was very tired.

'Come and lie down till they phone,' Queenie suggested as she came in with a cup of tea.