Dangerous Promises (29 page)

‘And what if they don’t believe him?’

‘Of course they won’t believe him. Wayne Gissing doesn’t open his mouth without a lie coming out of it. But what can they do? Sod all, other than ask Sharon – and she’s going to come out with the same pile of bullshit.’

Sadie leaned her head against the window while she thought about what he’d said. A tiny glimmer of hope was blossoming inside her. ‘But what if he doesn’t? What if he says it was me?’

‘Why would he do that?’

Sadie screwed up her face. ‘I don’t know. Because I shot him? I don’t imagine he’s going to be too happy about that.’

‘No he isn’t, but he’s still going to cover his back. Believe me, the best thing you can do is to go home and pretend that nothing ever happened.’

‘I can’t,’ she said.

‘You have to.’

‘And then?’

‘And then what?’

Sadie rubbed her face with the palm of her hand. ‘He’s going to come after me, isn’t he? I’m going to be looking over my shoulder all the time.’

‘He won’t be doing anything for a while.’

‘How long is a while?’

‘Just go,’ he said. ‘I’ll sort it out.’

Sadie didn’t ask how he was intending to do that. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. The bus in front of them shifted forward and a few minutes later they emerged on to Euston Road. He turned into the station, drove down the ramp to the underground parking area and pulled up.

‘You’ll be okay,’ he said.

Sadie unlocked the car door but didn’t get out. ‘What do I say if the police ask me about it? I mean, I was there at the funeral. What if they question me? I was standing in the cemetery with Sharon. What if my story doesn’t tally with hers?’

‘Just keep it simple,’ he said. ‘Tell the truth as much as you can. You went to the church, you went to the cemetery, you stood with Sharon and then you left on your own. Is there anyone who can say different?’

Sadie thought about it. The two cops had left before her, and most of the mourners had drifted off at the same time. Had there been any witnesses to her leaving with Sharon? The Wises perhaps. Or the priest. ‘I don’t know. Someone might have seen us.’

‘Well, it’ll be their word against yours.’

Sadie suddenly thought of something else. ‘My holdall,’ she said. ‘It’s still at Oaklands. And I haven’t even checked out. I still owe for last night.’

‘I’ll get Velma to sort it. Is there anything important in the bag?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really. Just clothes and make-up and stuff.’

‘No worries, then.’

Sadie opened her bag and took out her purse. ‘I’ll give you the money,’ she said. ‘You can pass it on to Velma.’

He waved the offer away. ‘Keep it. I’ll square up with her.’

But Sadie didn’t want to be in his debt any more than she already was. ‘No,’ she said firmly, taking out a couple of notes and pressing them into his hand. ‘You have to take it.’ She went to get out of the car but then hesitated and turned back to look at him. ‘And thanks,’ she said. ‘You know, for…’

‘For saving your arse?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a pleasure. Oh, and before you go you might want to… er, fix your face. No offence, babe, but I’ve seen you looking better.’

Sadie flipped down the sun shield, stared at herself in the mirror and grimaced. ‘God,’ she murmured. Her mascara had run, leaving dark circles under her eyes and long grey streaks down her cheeks. She found a tissue, put it to her mouth, dampened it and set about trying to repair the damage.

While she was doing this, Stone got out of the Daimler, went round to the back of the car and opened the boot. He came back with a first-aid kit and took out cotton wool, antiseptic cream and plasters. ‘You need to clean that cut,’ he said. ‘You don’t want it getting infected.’

Sadie glanced across at the small white box with the red cross on the front. ‘Are you always this organised?’

‘Be prepared,’ he replied. ‘Isn’t that what they say?’

‘Like you were ever a boy scout.’ Sadie, having done the best she could with her face, turned her attention to the wound on her hand. The antiseptic stung as she applied it and she drew in a breath. ‘How am I going to explain how this happened?’

‘Just say you caught it on something. I don’t know, a nail, a piece of glass. It’ll heal up in a couple of weeks. Shouldn’t leave too much of a scar.’

She laid a long thin plaster along the length of the cut and gently pressed it down. She thought of Wayne Gissing and the knife and a shudder passed through her. ‘This isn’t over, is it?’ she asked, her eyes widening as she looked at him again. ‘This isn’t going to go away.’

‘Let me worry about that. Might be best to cover that hand up,’ he said. ‘Have you got any gloves?’

Sadie nodded, pulled them from her pocket and slipped them on. ‘What if he comes after me? Or tries to hurt Joel?’

‘Is that the boyfriend?’

‘None of this is his fault.’

‘Is any of it yours?’

The question caught her off guard and she quickly glanced away, unable to meet his cool grey eyes. ‘No,’ she lied. ‘Why should it be?’

Stone gave a shrug. ‘If there’s anything you want to tell me?’

‘There isn’t,’ she said.

‘You’d better be going then.’

Sadie got out of the car and leaned down to look at him. She had a sudden urge at that moment to get back in, to tell him everything, to let it all spill out of her in one almighty torrent. How much longer could she keep her secret? It was gradually tearing her apart. She needed someone to talk to, someone to confide in.

Stone raised his eyebrows. ‘Was there something else?’

She hesitated, the words on her lips, but then shook her head. Even after today, she wasn’t sure that she could trust him. He might have saved her skin, but was that for her benefit or his own? Nathan Stone was the kind of man, she suspected, who always had an agenda. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Just thanks, thanks again for what you did.’

‘Have a safe journey.’

Sadie shut the car door and walked away. She heard the smooth purr of the Daimler as the engine started up and was tempted to look back, but didn’t. She was too scared of changing her mind.

37

Petra Gissing sat back in the chair and lifted the glass of whisky to her lips. She had been on a rollercoaster of emotions since hearing that her son had been shot. First there had been the shock, the horror, the disbelief, quickly followed by the fear that he would die. Then came the relief – the wound wasn’t a serious one – and then the pity, the confusion and anger. On top of all that had been her frustration at the endless questions from the filth. Now she was left mainly with a feeling of indignation. Wayne was lying to her and it pissed her off big time.

‘What do you think I am?’ she said, glaring at him. ‘A bloody mug? You can say what you like to Old Bill, but don’t try it on with me.’

Wayne gazed back at her, scowling. ‘Do we really have to do this now? I’m in bleedin’ agony, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with your mouth. You can still talk, can’t you?’

‘I’ve already told you what happened. How many times? Jesus, just leave it alone.’

But leaving it alone was the last thing Petra was going to do. ‘Who was it? One of Terry Street’s goons, I bet. I told you about stirring up trouble. And do you ever listen to me? No, of course you don’t, because Wayne bloody Gissing always knows best.’

‘Give it a rest, can’t you? I’m sick of it.’

‘I’ll give it at a rest when you tell me the truth.’

Wayne tipped back the bottle of beer and took a long pull. ‘They jumped me, right? In the cemetery, by the car. Three of them. Coloured geezers. I ain’t never seen ’em before. Well, not so I’d remember. They all look the same, don’t they? They wanted cash and I wouldn’t give it to them. Junkies, maybe, after a fix. How would I know? One of them had a shooter; the thing went off and…’ He gestured towards his leg. ‘Then they scarpered, did a bunk. That’s it. That’s the goddamn truth.’

Petra curled her lip. ‘You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you in the face.’

‘Oh, leave him alone, Mum,’ Kelly said. ‘He’s been shot, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t need all this aggro.’

‘And you’re no better,’ Petra retorted, turning to her daughter. ‘Covering up for him. You think I haven’t seen the two of you plotting and scheming this past week? I’m not bleedin’ blind. If it wasn’t for the fact that we buried Eddie today…’ She raised a hand and dropped it into her lap. ‘It ain’t right, lying to your own mother.’

‘It’s all in yer head,’ Wayne said stubbornly. ‘There ain’t been nothin’ going on.’

Petra made a clicking sound with her tongue. ‘Yeah, right, and I’m the Queen of flaming Sheba.’ What really got her goat was that she knew Sharon had been in on it too. She’d seen her cosying up to that Sadie, walking with her to the graveyard. And where had they disappeared to after the burial? One minute they’d been there and the next… And then Wayne saying he was going to get the car, and Kelly suggesting that he take it straight to the Fox instead of coming back for them, that she wanted to walk to the pub, that she needed the fresh air.

‘It’s Wayne you should be worrying about,’ Kelly said. ‘Those bastards could have killed him.’

Petra opened her mouth, about to say something on the subject of Sadie Wise, but at that very moment the phone started ringing. No one else moved and so she put down her glass and hauled herself to her feet. ‘I’ll get it, shall I?’

Wayne gestured towards his leg. ‘What do you want me to do, hop there?’

Petra raised her eyes to the ceiling and went out through the door to the hall. She picked up the phone and put it to her ear, hearing the pips go before she could speak. She waited until the caller came on the line.

‘Sharon?’

It was Roy ringing from the nick. Hearing his voice again made her wince, reminding her of times she’d rather forget. ‘She ain’t here.’

‘What do you mean, she ain’t there?’ he asked roughly.

‘What do you think I mean? It’s plain English. It ain’t that hard to understand.’

‘Where is she then?’

‘How should I know? I’m not her keeper. Out with her fancy man probably.’

Roy sucked in an audible breath. ‘Just can’t help yourself, can you? Even at a time like this. The screws told me about Wayne. He’s all right, yeah? They said he’d been released from the hospital.’

‘About an hour ago. I reckon he’ll live.’

‘So what the fuck happened?’

Petra, aware that the conversation was probably being recorded by the prison, had the nous to stick to the story that her son had told the law. ‘Tried to mug him, didn’t they? Three of them, the cowardly bastards. ’Course Wayne wasn’t having any of it. He put up a fight and one of them took out a shooter and… Anyway, it ain’t as bad as it might have been. A few weeks and he’ll be back on his feet again.’

‘Put him on. I want to talk to him.’

‘And how am I supposed to do that? He can’t
walk
, for God’s sake. You want him to crawl into the hall?’

‘I want to make sure he’s okay.’

‘I just told you he was. You want a word with Kelly?’

‘How’s she doing?’

‘She’s had better days.’

‘Yeah, put her on.’

Petra called out through the open door, ‘Kelly, it’s your dad,’ before laying the phone on the table and going upstairs for a pee. She grinned as she thought back to what she’d said about Sharon. The tart had only nipped out for a takeaway but he wasn’t to know that. Roy knew she was stirring, trying to cause trouble, but that wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it. She had planted a seed of doubt and when he was banged up this evening, when he had too much time to dwell on stuff, he might just start to wonder…

She looked in the bathroom mirror, made some adjustments to her hair and gave her reflection a friendly nod. Perhaps, all in all, the day hadn’t worked out so badly. What did they say about every cloud having a silver lining? Now that Wayne was temporarily laid up, she had the perfect excuse for staying on in Shoreditch.

38

Wayne gritted his teeth, trying to contain the rage that was bubbling up inside him. It wasn’t just that he’d been shot – that was bad enough – but that he’d been shot by a fuckin’ woman. It was wrong, humiliating, and he’d be a laughing stock if anyone on the street got to hear about it. Sharon had better keep her big mouth shut. In his head, he replayed the fateful moment over and over again; he’d been convinced that the tart was bluffing, sure that the gun was a replica, some fake piece of plastic shit that couldn’t even be fired.

And then, as if things hadn’t been bad enough, he’d had the filth on his back, bombarding him with bloody questions. The story – which he and Sharon had thrown together on the way to the hospital – was flimsy, full of holes, but the best they could manage in the time they had. And he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight. Still, there wasn’t a whole lot the law could do about it. They might suspect it was a pile of bullshit, but they couldn’t prove a thing.

Before going into A&E he’d had the nous to pass the knife over to Sharon. You couldn’t trust the filth when it came to going through your things. Now he took it from his pocket, flicked it open and stared at the blade. He should have cut the crazy bitch’s throat when he had the opportunity. Still, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Wayne looked up as Kelly came back into the room. They hadn’t had a chance to talk properly since the funeral and he could see the frustration in her eyes. She closed the door, hurried over to the sofa and sat down beside him.

‘What the hell happened today?’

Wayne closed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket. ‘What do you think fuckin’ happened? The crazy bitch had a shooter, didn’t she?’

Kelly’s jaw dropped. ‘What? It was Sadie Wise?’

‘Keep it down. You want Mum to hear?’

‘I thought it must have been Stone or Terry Street or —’

‘It was a set-up,’ Wayne said. ‘They must have guessed that we were planning something. Stone was there too, keeping out of sight. He fucked off with the tart as soon as…’ His hands balled into two tight fists. ‘It was a fuckin’ ambush, Kel. The bitch could have killed me.’