The Girl from Cotton Lane (68 page)

‘Are yer Mr Talbot?’ Danny asked amiably.

‘Nah.’

‘Are yer Mr Bennett then?’

‘What d’yer want wiv ’im?’

‘We’ve come about the stuff,’ Danny said.

‘Yer better come in,’ the man said gruffly, leading the way up the flight of steep stairs to a room at the back of the house.

Danny and Billy were left standing alone in the dingy room for a few minutes, then their unwilling host walked back into the room accompanied by a taller man with dark wavy hair and narrow-set eyes. ‘I’m Talbot,’ he announced. ‘I got the message yer was comin’. Sit down an’ we’ll talk.’

Billy sat down alongside Danny on a dilapidated settee which had springs poking out from the upholstery, while Talbot pulled up a chair and motioned to Bennett. ‘Get us some glasses an’ the bottle,’ he told him.

When the slouching figure left the room Talbot pulled out a packet of Woodbines and handed them around. ‘’Ow much yer got?’ he asked.

‘There’s two ’undred cases,’ Danny replied quickly. ‘Fifty salmon, seventy corned beef and the rest are peaches. They’re all sixteen ounce an’ two dozen ter the case.’

Talbot stroked his chin, eyeing the two thoughtfully. ‘What yer askin’ fer ’em?’ he enquired.

Danny shrugged his shoulders, trying to look unsure of himself. ‘I dunno really,’ he replied. ‘They’re straight off the barge an’ we can’t ’ave ’em stored at our gaff too long. If we knocked ’em out separately we could get a decent price, but we’d sooner drop the price a bit an’ get rid of ’em in one go.’

‘Well, yer’d ’ave ter drop it quite a bit in that case,’ Talbot said. ‘There’s always a risk in ’andlin’ bulk stuff an’ we’d ’ave ter get transport.’

‘No fear o’ that,’ Danny cut in. ‘I can get yer transport, providin’ yer take the lot.’

Bennett walked into the room carrying glasses and a bottle of whisky and when Talbot had passed the drinks round he leaned back in his chair and eyed the two visitors. ‘Give us some idea of what yer askin’,’ he pressed.

‘I dunno really,’ Danny said, glancing at Billy for inspiration.

‘I dunno neivver,’ Billy added, looking even more puzzled than his friend. ‘What d’yer reckon?’

Talbot drained his glass in one gulp. ‘Look, I gotta ’ave some idea,’ he said impatiently.

‘P’raps yer could come round an’ see the stuff,’ Danny said hopefully. ‘If yer make us a decent offer we could get an ’orsean’-cart right away an’ we’d ’elp yer load it. We can’t leave it at our place too long, yer see.’

Talbot tried to contain his enthusiasm as he poured himself another drink. They were obviously two idiots who did not have a clue and were worried about the amount of stuff they had filched. ‘All right then, I’ll come round,’ he said after a moment or two. ‘What time?’

‘Can yer make it termorrer night? About seven if yer can,’ Danny replied.

‘Right then, let’s drink ter that,’ Talbot said, reaching for the bottle.

‘Fanks, but it’s all right,’ Danny said, holding up his hands. ‘That’s very strong stuff.’

Talbot gave the two a condescending look as they got up from the settee. ‘Give us the directions then an’ me an’ Kenny’ll pop round,’ he said.

When they had left the house and were walking along the narrow turning Billy turned to his friend. ‘Yer could ’ave took that ovver drink,’ he said.

Danny grinned. ‘I wanted us ter look a right couple o’ dopes,’ he replied.

‘Well, yer certainly done that,’ Billy said, returning the grin. ‘I bet that Talbot finks ’e’s on a winner wiv us two. I ’ope ’e don’t smell a rat.’

Danny shook his head. ‘’E’ll be there termorrer. I could see the pound notes flashin’ in ’is eyes.’

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Frank Galloway was feeling decidedly nervous and glanced around behind him as he walked into the Wilson Street yard on Tuesday morning. George Galloway was sitting in the office chair, and his face grew dark as he eyed his son.

‘Now what the ’ell’s goin’ on, Frank?’ he growled. ‘There’s two lorries orf the road an’ the yard foreman tells me yer’ve not left ’im wiv any instructions. Then I’ve ’ad Adams whinin’ about this bloke who keeps comin’ in ’ere askin’ fer yer. What yer bin up to?’

Frank sat down in the chair facing him. ‘Surely Jackman can handle a breakdown or two without everything having to be spelt out to him,’ he replied irritably.

‘I’m not so concerned about Jackman,’ George growled. ‘I’m more concerned about this bloke who keeps on comin’ in ’ere askin’ fer yer. ’E won’t give ’is name or anyfing. Phelps told me ’e’s a nasty bit o’ goods. Yer better tell me, Frank, I can’t do anyfing if I don’t know the score.’

Frank sighed deeply. There was nothing the old man could do to help him. No one could. This was one mess he would have to sort out for himself, and if that Bradley woman had acted on his last phone call to her then everything might be all right. She had been less difficult than he had expected, and although she was now going to take the information he had given her to the police she had said she wouldn’t divulge the source. She had also told him that she had proof of Talbot’s whereabouts on the night of the fire and that would help speed things up. The sooner Theo was behind bars the better for him, and Peggy. She was becoming a nervous wreck.

‘This character who keeps asking for me is deranged,’ Frank told his father. ‘He’s labouring under the misapprehension that I had something to do with luring his wife away. Good Lord, I’ve only met the woman once, and that was on business.’

‘Well, yer wanna chuck ’im out the yard next time ’e calls,’ the old man said sharply. ‘Tell ’im that if ’e shows ’is face ’ere again yer’ll phone the police. If I see ’im ’e’ll feel the weight o’ me stick over ’is ’ead.’

Frank prayed that Theo would not make an appearance while his father was in the yard. ‘Don’t get yourself upset, Dad,’ he replied. ‘Let the yard man handle him. Now what about a drink? I’ve got some good news. I think we’ll get that brewery contract. My contact tells me our tender was the best.’

George Galloway looked relieved as he took the glass of Scotch from Frank and sat fingering the gold medallion on his watch chain. ‘So we bettered that Bradley woman?’

Frank nodded. ‘She won’t get this contract, and you can take that as definite,’ he said, smiling smugly.

George Galloway stood up wearily and took hold of his stick. ‘I’m orf ter see somebody,’ he said in a tired voice. ‘I take it yer gonna be in fer the day?’

Frank nodded, but as soon as the old man had left he went out to talk to Jackman the yard man. Ten minutes later he left the yard, glancing about to left and right as though expecting to be followed. When he reached the end of the turning he glanced behind him quickly, and after reassuring himself that there was no one dogging his footsteps he crossed the road and hurried along to London Bridge Station.

Harold Simpson was no novice when it came to the intricacies of following people around. He had spent many years in the police force and the last four years with a firm of enquiry agents who specialised in obtaining evidence in divorce cases, and as he stepped from a doorway and watched Frank Galloway cross Jamaica Road Harold smiled to himself craftily.

Danny sat together with Billy Sullivan in the changing room at Murphy’s Gym, eyeing the wall clock anxiously. Both men wore heavy woollen jumpers and their fists were strapped with bandages.

‘The kids won’t be arrivin’ till eight so we’ve got an hour, providin’ Talbot an’ that ovver dopey git arrive on time,’ Danny said, looking up at the wall clock once more.

Billy grinned evilly. ‘Yer sure we ought ter deal wiv Bennett first?’ he asked.

Danny Tanner nodded. ‘I fink Bennett’s the best bet. Besides, ’e was the one who actually set fire ter the place. Once we get ’im babblin’ we’re ’alfway there wiv Talbot. That one won’t be so easy. ’E looks ’ard, an’ ’e won’t panic too quickly. After all, ’e did front it out in the witness box.’

At five minutes past seven Talbot and Bennett walked up the path and knocked on the oaken front door. Billy slipped the bolts and pulled the heavy door open. ‘Come in, gents, we’ve bin waitin’ fer yer,’ he said, hiding a grin.

The two men walked into the hallway, looking around curiously as Billy led the way into the main hall. ‘In ’ere,’ he said, pointing to the changing room.

Danny got up and held out his hand. ‘Glad yer could come,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ve got a list o’ some prices ’ere.’

Talbot ignored the outstretched hand. ‘Right now, I’ve . . .’

‘Look, while we’re talkin’ my pal’s gonna take the covers off the stuff. Can yer mate give ’im an ’and?’ Danny interrupted him.

Talbot glanced down at the sheaf of papers in Danny’s hand. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he replied.

Billy led the way out of the changing room, closing the door behind him, and led Bennett towards the centre of the gymnasium, stopping beside the ringed area. ‘Ever bin in a ring?’ he asked, grinning wickedly.

‘Where’s the stuff?’ Bennett asked, looking around.

Suddenly Billy swung a hard punch into Bennett’s stomach and the man doubled up, gasping for breath with his eyes popping. Billy followed with a downward punch to the side of his head that flattened the bulky man. He rolled on to his side, pain and shock showing on his flushed face as he tried to stagger to his feet. Billy brought his knee up sharply and caught him full in the face, throwing him backwards. Blood ran from his nose and he was gasping for breath.

‘What d’yer start that fire for?’ Billy asked, his clenched fist poised in front of Bennett’s bruised face.

‘What fire?’ Bennett spluttered.

Billy hit him full in the face and the man’s head jerked back.

‘Now look, I can go on like this all night,’ he growled. ‘I’m gonna ask yer once more. Why d’yer start the fire at the sorters’ yard?’

Bennett shook his head and suddenly made a dive for Billy’s legs. Billy’s kick landed on his ear and he fell sideways clasping his head.

‘I don’t know nuffink about a fire,’ he groaned.

Billy took him by the coat collar and dragged him towards the wall. Bennett lay in a heap, fearfully watching while his tormentor took down a stretching spring from a hook and unclipped one of the handgrips.

‘Now I’m gonna give yer one last chance,’ Billy snarled, holding the remaining handgrip tightly in his clenched fist. ‘This spring’s gonna strip the flesh from yer back an’ I’m gonna take no notice o’ yer screams.’

‘It was Talbot, not me!’ Bennett whined.

Billy brought the steel spring down hard and drew a scream of agony as the back of the man’s coat ripped. He lifted the spring again and Bennett rolled over on to his side.

‘It was Talbot! ’E told me ter do it,’ he groaned. ‘Ask ’im, can’t yer?’

When Billy had left the changing room Danny threw down the papers and stood between Talbot and the door. ‘Right, now you an’ me ’ave gotta ’ave a little talk,’ he said between clenched teeth.

Talbot saw the look in Danny’s eyes and stepped back a pace. ‘What d’yer mean?’ he asked, surprise showing on his face.

‘There’s a good friend o’ the people round ’ere who’s rottin’ in ’Olloway because you told a pack o’ lies at ’er trial,’ Danny snarled. ‘Right now my pal Billy’s sortin’ out yer mate. What I’m gonna do is knock the livin’ daylights out o’ yer unless yer come up wiv the trufe.’

Talbot backed away from him, realising that he had been lured into a trap. ‘Yer not gonna touch me,’ he said, his voice shaking.

‘Oh, is that so?’ Danny growled, moving forward.

Suddenly Talbot produced a long, thin-bladed knife from the back of his belt and held it menacingly in front of him. ‘Come any nearer an’ I’ll put this in yer,’ he snarled.

A scream sounded from outside and Talbot backed against the wall. ‘Yer not touchin’ me,’ he said in a dry voice.

Danny moved forward slowly, his eyes never leaving the knife. ‘Put that down, Talbot, or I’ll take it off yer an’ cut yer froat wiv it,’ he growled.

For a few minutes the two glared at each other, like two animals about to lock into a fight to the death. Suddenly there was a scuffling sound outside the room and then the door burst open. Billy had the terrified Bennett by the coat collar and when he saw Talbot holding the knife he pulled Bennett in front of him and held him with his arm curled around the man’s throat.

‘Stand back, Danny,’ he said urgently, slowly advancing on the snarling Talbot.

‘Mind ’im,’ Danny warned, but at that moment Billy pushed his human shield straight at the knife-wielding thug.

Bennett fell forward, then with a groan reeled back and collapsed, holding his midriff. Blood oozed from between his fingers as he lay groaning and for a second or two no one moved. Then Talbot was on his knees, the knife forgotten as he cradled the injured man’s head in his arms.

‘It was an accident, Kenny, I swear! I wouldn’t ’urt yer, yer know I wouldn’t,’ he groaned.

Billy picked up the knife while Danny bent over the ashen-faced Bennett. ‘It’s bad. We’ll ’ave ter get ’im ter the ’ospital,’ he muttered to Billy. ‘Lock Talbot in the cupboard an’ then phone fer an ambulance. I’ll see what I can do ter stop the bleedin’.’

Chief Inspector Green sat at his desk studying a pile of papers while the two young men sat in front of him, solemn-faced and silent. Presently he looked up and eyed the two in turn.