Tamsyn Murray-My So-Called Haunting (19 page)

‘There’s no bulb in the socket. You’ll have to feel your way.’

He led, his faint glow barely visible in the dark. Gingerly, I shuffled forwards, hoping none of the rats from the alleyway had found their way inside. Reaching the bottom of a staircase, I
gripped a slimy metal handrail and climbed upwards. I made out a sliver of light at the top; the way into the club. Dontay pushed the door back, his face a mask of grim concentration.

‘All clear,’ he called.

I pushed the door open further and eased my way past it. My nose wrinkled as the pungent smell of urine hit my nostrils and I glanced up to see I was standing beside the toilets. ‘Where
now?’

‘Here.’ Dontay headed through another door. Swallowing my fear, I eased the door back and followed, wondering what I’d find on the other side.

There were ten snooker tables in the hall, each gleaming emerald green under a pool of light coming from lamps above them. The rest of the hall was shrouded in darkness, except for a deserted
bar which ran the length of one wall. Only one of the tables was in use, its brightly coloured balls like a handful of gems scattered randomly across the greenness. No one was playing on it now;
the action was taking place nearby.

Framed by the light from the table, I made out Tyrone. He hadn’t noticed me come in – his attention was focused on someone I couldn’t see, stood beyond the reach of the light.
But I didn’t need to see to know it had to be Nelson. Just like I knew from Tyrone’s tense expression that he had a gun pointed at him. My shoulders crumpled and I let out a silent,
miserable breath; I was too late.

Keeping to the shadows, I edged closer until I had a clear view, and crouched behind one of the unused tables. Nelson’s shoulders were hunched and he held his arm at a stiff right-angle to
his body. The hand holding the gun barely trembled – I’d have been quivering like a jellyfish if it had been me. Dontay stood at his brother’s shoulder, his face an agony of
tension and sadness.

‘Why?’ Nelson said. ‘Before I shoot you like you shot my brother, I want you to tell me why you killed him.’

Tyrone shrugged. ‘I told you, man. I never done it,’ he said, quiet insistence colouring his tone. ‘I got no beef with you – I weren’t even there the day it went
down.’

Nelson threw him a sneering look. ‘Shank told me you was. He said you wanted to show the London Fields Posse you meant business.’

Spreading his empty hands, Tyrone’s gaze was intent. ‘Then he’s lying to you. And I’d want to know why if I was you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Why do you reckon Shank told you I shot Dontay? Maybe so you don’t start asking too many questions about whose gun did the actual killing?’

I felt the tiny stab of pins and needles start to work their way along my legs and shifted as much as I dared behind the table. From the look on Dontay’s face, he was mulling over
Tyrone’s words and I could see the dawn of doubt on his face. Nelson, though, was unconvinced.

‘If you were a man, you’d take responsibility for what you done,’ he said, his chin jutting out angrily. ‘I should shoot you right now for being a coward.’

Deep in thought, Dontay didn’t seem to hear his brother. ‘I didn’t see Tyrone there that day,’ he said. The words were slow and heavy. His gaze was clouded with memories
as realisation of the truth dawned. ‘Shank was standing over me, talking on his phone, and I always thought he called the ambulance, but it was all so confusing. Maybe that’s not how it
went down.’ He shook his head, as though trying to clear it. ‘How could Tyrone have shot me if he wasn’t even there?’

I saw my chance and seized it. ‘Tyrone wasn’t there, Nelson,’ I called, standing up unsteadily on cramped legs and grateful for the support of the snooker table. ‘But
Shank was. Dontay saw him.’

Nelson swung towards me and I saw the flash of light on metal. ‘You can’t know that.’

His voice resonated with tension and I sensed he might snap at any second. Was there anything I could say to convince him to put the gun down? I licked my lips nervously and took the plunge.
‘I can. He just told me.’

All of them swung towards me.

‘What are you, some kind of nutter?’ Nelson waved the gun at me, his face disbelieving. ‘Just shut up, all right?’

The main door slammed back and a tall, skinny man stepped forwards. The light glinted off the heavy gold chains around his neck and he held a gun in his outstretched hand. He took in the scene
with a disbelieving sneer. ‘What is this,
The Jeremy Kyle Show
?’

Nelson froze. ‘All right, Shank? I didn’t know you were coming down here.’

Shank smiled and a mouthful of gold teeth glittered. ‘I came to see how you got on with that little job I gave you, but I see it’s taking longer than I expected.’

Tyrone watched him approach, a wary expression on his face. ‘Sending a boy to do a man’s job, Shank? What’s the matter, you lost the stomach for killing these days?’

Shank let the smile drop. ‘Finish the job,’ he instructed Nelson.

Nelson’s eyes were skittering nervously between Tyrone and Shank. ‘He says he didn’t do it.’

‘Of course he does,’ Shank said, his features twisting into a sadistic smirk. ‘But you’re gonna shoot him anyway, because I’m telling you to.’

Dontay was staring at Shank, a look of horror on his face. ‘I remember. You were laughing on the phone as I lay there bleeding. You said you were the baddest gunman cos you’d got
more bodies than anyone else.’

Shank was aiming his gun at Nelson now. ‘And if you don’t do it, I’ll shoot you.’ He gave a little gurgling laugh. ‘Or maybe I’ll shoot you anyway and blame
it on Tyrone, like I did with your brother.’

Nelson twisted towards Shank, his face slack with shock. The hand with the gun dropped to his side. ‘You?’

‘Dontay weren’t no loss.’ Shank shrugged dismissively. ‘His mind was always on football so when he got in the way during a battle with the Marsh Streeters, I saw a way to
stir things up. There’s nothing like a murder to fire the temper.’

Tears began to pour down Nelson’s face. ‘You?’ he repeated. ‘But I trusted you.’

Shank raised his gun higher and I saw his finger begin to tighten on the trigger. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You put your faith in the wrong person.’

It seemed as though time ground to a halt. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Dontay launched himself at Shank and slid right through him. Tyrone was reaching beneath the
snooker table for something I couldn’t see. Shank squeezed the trigger of the gun. A single shot rang out, followed by a dull thud. My voice returned and I screamed, realising it was Shank
who’d fired and knowing he couldn’t have missed Nelson at such close range. But I was wrong. Instead of Nelson crumpling to his knees, it was Shank clutching at his leg and moaning, his
gun clattering to the floor by his foot. Tyrone was the one who’d fired. Shank collapsed in a heap and I saw a lake of redness seeping from underneath his fingers. His gun tumbled next to
him.The breath caught in my throat as Tyrone turned to aim at Nelson.

‘Police, Nelson. Drop the gun!’ he said.

Stunned, Nelson stared at the prone figure of Shank. The weapon fell from his fingers. Tyrone stepped forwards and kicked it away. It skittered under the table. ‘Hands on the table where I
can see them.’ His gaze flickered towards me. ‘You too.’

And then the hall rang with shouting voices as uniformed police officers poured through the door. In a daze, I watched as some bent over Shank and others frisked Nelson. The awful reality dawned
on me when I caught the gleam of handcuffs clasped around his wrists. We were being arrested.

A female officer approached me, her face wary. ‘Hands where I can see them, now!’

I stared at the floor as she checked me for weapons and clipped handcuffs on to me. Now that I knew we were out of immediate danger another kind of fear was crawling through me. Celestine might
have got me involved with Dontay in the first place, but she could never have imagined how it would turn out. How on earth was I going to explain a trip to the police station?

They kept us at Hackney police station for hours. Celestine arrived, tight-lipped and grey-faced, and sat with me through the interview. I didn’t see Dontay at all.
Eventually, the police accepted my story that although I knew Nelson, I had nothing to do with the gangs; I’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tyrone, real name DS Hudson,
had been part of a deep undercover set-up called Operation Scorpion designed to infiltrate gang culture in Hackney. He’d known Shank was responsible for Dontay’s murder but needed
proof. When he’d heard that the gang leader was planning another murder, he’d agreed to be fitted with a wire and a bulletproof vest. DS Hudson had been ready to act as soon as Shank
had admitted killing Dontay, but had been forced to shoot him in the leg when he’d threatened Nelson. I almost fainted with relief when they told me I was being released without charge. With
stern warnings to keep out of trouble in future ringing in my ears, I followed Celestine out of the interview room and into the front of the police station.

Jeremy was sitting in the waiting area, staring straight ahead and trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He rose as the desk sergeant waved us through, but didn’t speak until we were
on the street outside the police station.

‘All right?’ he said, looking me up and down with concern.

It was the last straw. All the fear and stress of the day cracked my fragile self-control and I burst into tears.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I wailed, blinking at their serious expressions through sodden eyes. ‘Dontay said Nelson had a gun and was going to shoot someone and he was so worried.
I didn’t know what to do and then it all went wrong.’

Celestine’s face crumpled too and she wrapped me in a hug. ‘You’re safe. That’s all that matters.’

‘Please don’t tell my mum!’

‘Of course not,’ Celestine murmured into my hair, clutching me tighter, and I trusted her. I stayed in her arms until the tears slowed, and then moved back.

Jeremy slipped an arm around my shoulders. ‘You should have called us.’

My head drooped. ‘I know. But everything happened so fast and my mobile got broken.’

‘You’ve had a rough few weeks, but it’s all over now.’ Patting my arm sympathetically, he stepped back. ‘Why don’t I go and get the car?’

‘Where’s Dontay now?’ Celestine asked as Jeremy headed towards the car park.

It was a good question. There was still no sign of him. Nelson had been taken into custody and I had no idea how that would affect his future. The detective questioning me had warned that
possession of a firearm was a crime that carried a five-year jail sentence and that even a minor like Nelson could be sent to a young offenders’ unit. Would Dontay be able to pass across to
the astral plane with his brother’s life in tatters? I didn’t think so.

A cry rang out from the top of the police station steps. ‘Skye!’

It was Dontay, and he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Nelson. Beside them was a stocky man and plump woman I guessed to be their parents. Dontay walked down the steps towards me.

‘They’ve released him without charge,’ he said when he reached us, jerking his head towards his brother.

My mouth dropped open in delighted surprise. ‘That’s great news. But what about the gun?’

Dontay grinned. ‘He ditched it before he got to the snooker hall.’ Glancing back over his shoulder, his smile widened. ‘The one we saw him carrying was a toy replica from home.
He told the coppers he only wanted to scare Tyrone into admitting he’d killed me, he didn’t want to shoot anyone.’

Celestine shook her head, blinking in disbelief. ‘And it was Shank all along. How do you feel? Did you have any idea Shank was the one who caused your death?’

Dontay watched his family as they started to make their way down the steps, his expression reflective. ‘No. I thought knowing who killed me would make a difference, but it doesn’t,
as long as Nelson is all right. And I doubt he’ll be getting into trouble again anytime soon. He’s grounded for the rest of his life.’

A shrill voice, with more than a hint of the West Indies about it carried towards us. ‘I can’t believe you worried us like that,’ Mrs Ambrose was saying, one finger poking
Nelson in the chest. Then she enveloped him in a crushing hug. ‘After all we’ve been through with your poor brother, how could you risk your life getting involved with a gang?
You’re all we have now.’

Nelson let her hug him. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground and didn’t look my way as they passed us by. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

‘And I don’t suppose you thought about your future either. After we got that nice letter from the Youh Academy and everything.’

Nelson stopped and stared at his mother. ‘What letter?’

Mrs Ambrose sniffed. ‘They wanted you to go and try out for them, like Dontay did, but I don’t suppose they’ll be interested in someone with a criminal record.’

‘Nelson hasn’t got a record,’ Mr Ambrose reminded his wife. ‘He made a mistake is all.’

A dazed smile crept across Nelson’s face. ‘West Ham Youth Academy wants me to go for a trial?’