Payback (43 page)

At the mention of her niece, Nancy softened. ‘Oh, Michael. What do you think has happened to her? Do you think somebody could be holding her hostage to get back at Vinny? In a way, I hope it is that, because any other scenario would be just too awful to even think about.’

Seeing the tears in his wife’s eyes, Michael held her in his arms. ‘I have no idea what has happened to Molly, babe, and I know that Vinny hasn’t either. He rang around all his contacts earlier, offering a fifty-grand reward for information. I just thank God it isn’t one of our kids. Dealing with this is hard enough, but there is no way I could have coped with it being one of ours.’

Nancy clung to her husband. ‘Neither could I, Michael. Neither could I.’

Bobby Jackson could tell by the look on his brief’s face that he was in big trouble.

‘Hugh, I swear on my Jake’s life, I had sod all to do with Molly Butler’s disappearance.’

‘You’re going to have to do a bit better than that, Bobby. The police have a witness who heard you confess to throttling, then burying Molly. And on the same day another witness saw your clothes covered in mud. It isn’t looking good, so you had better start talking.’

‘I was pissed, Hugh, I’ve already explained that to the police. Do you honestly think, if I’d done a thing like that, I’d be stupid enough to stand at the bar in the Blind Beggar bragging about it? Micky Dunn asked me whether I’d taken the kid, so I cracked a joke, that’s all. Me and Micky were both bladdered.’

‘Hardly a joking matter though, is it, Bobby?’

‘No. I suppose not. But then again, it wasn’t your father who Vinny Butler kidnapped, tortured, then made disappear off the face of the earth, was it, eh? I’m telling you, Hugh, it was a drunken joke that backfired. Nothing more and nothing less. I was hardly going to be sympathetic towards Vinny, was I? I have him to thank for this scar on my face. What goes around comes around, I’m afraid.’

‘So, where were you on the day Molly disappeared? You’re going to need an alibi to get out of this one, Bobby. You also need to explain why a witness saw you in muddy clothes.’

‘I did a job for a pal of mine. I was in Dagenham around the time that Molly disappeared.’

‘And can your friend vouch for this?’

‘I can’t bring him into it, Hugh. He’s a bit of a villain and he paid me to hide something for him, which is why I was covered in mud.’

‘Well, if you want to get out of here you’re going to have to give me the name of your friend. Provided he will give you an alibi, we won’t need to tell the police what you were up to in Dagenham.’

‘I can’t do that. My pal is on the run.’

Exasperated, Hugh let out a long sigh. He had represented Bobby Jackson for years and his father before him. Bobby might not be the brightest spark, but he was usually honest. ‘Look, let me put this bluntly. You need an alibi more than you ever have before. I know how the police work and chances are, if that child is not found, they will save face by charging you with the murder, then you will go to trial. How did you travel to Dagenham? Did you speak to anybody while you were there? Think hard now, Bobby. We’ve both been round long enough to know a lot of what you say in here will get straight back to Vinny one way or another.’

‘I travelled to Dagenham in my van, but I did see someone I knew. Alison is an old friend of mine, we go way back. I hadn’t seen her for years, but I stopped to get some beers and bumped into her outside the offie.’

‘And what time would that have been?’

‘I’m not sure, I didn’t have me watch on. I got home about three though, so I’m guessing it was about two-ish.’

‘Do you know Alison’s surname? Have you an address for her?’

‘I can’t remember her surname, but she’s in her thirties, has long dark hair and a massive pair of knockers. She used to live in a block of flats called Cadiz Court. Not sure what number, but I think she was on the seventh floor. She has two sons, Kevin and Richard.’

‘OK. I’ll have another word with the police. In the meantime, see if there’s anything else you can remember.’

When Hugh left the cell, Bobby felt sick with anxiety. Vinny Butler would kill him, unless Alison backed him up. He had once broken her heart, but surely he could rely on her to confirm his story – couldn’t he?

Vinny Butler felt physically sick when he saw how many reporters were inside the room. He enjoyed being known and feared as a notorious villain, but hated any other kind of limelight. ‘I don’t think I want to do this. I think it’s better if Jo does it with Nancy,’ Vinny whispered to DI Smithers.

‘It will be fine. You and Joanna will sit at the centre of the table with myself and DS Townsend either side of you. I can answer a lot of the questions on your behalf, but you and Joanna will need to do the actual TV appeal and answer any questions I am unable to. Obviously, anything you are uncomfortable with, you don’t have to answer. Here’s Joanna now. Would you two like a few minutes alone before we begin?’

Without even looking at or consulting Joanna, Vinny shook his head. ‘No. Let’s just get it over with.’

The boy stood in a phonebox, took the screwed-up poster out of his pocket, and checked nobody was watching him before dialling the number. He had learned while banged up that if you kept the phonecall short and sweet, the Old Bill wouldn’t be able to trace it.

‘I’m ringing about Molly Butler. I just want you to know she is still alive, but missing her parents.’

The officer was startled. He could tell the caller sounded young. ‘Look, please don’t hang up. It’s in your best interest to talk to me. Can you tell me where Molly is? If you do, I can assure you that you will not be in trouble. As long as Molly is returned safely, everything will be OK. Would you like to speak to a senior officer? If you hold on a minute, I can arrange that.’

‘No, but I’ll be in touch again soon,’ the boy said, before slamming the phone down. He then left the phonebox, grinning.

Back at Arbour Square police station, Vinny Butler could feel his temper rising. Not only was he having to fend off awkward questions about his own life and business dealings, but Joanna’s nosy fucking mother was sitting amongst the reporters, watching him squirm.

‘As I said at the beginning of this conference, Mr Butler and Miss Preston are to only be asked questions about the disappearance of their daughter. Anything else is irrelevant at this moment in time.’

Most of the hacks present had done their homework on Vinny Butler, none more so than the
News of the World
reporter. He had spent the previous day visiting pubs and other local amenities in Whitechapel in the hope of digging up some dirt. Most locals knew better than to discuss the Butler family and it seemed he’d wasted a day – until he had the good fortune to come across an elderly lady in the market. She’d given him a wonderful insight into the life of Vinny Butler and a brilliant interview to go in his newspaper on Sunday.

‘Next question,’ the DI said.

‘You mentioned that the door of Mr Butler’s club was found open after Molly’s disappearance. Is there any chance the club could have been broken into?’ asked a reporter from a local rag.

‘No, there was no sign of forced entry. We believe the door in question was accidentally left open as Mr Butler rushed into the club to attend to a flooded cellar,’ the DI replied.

‘I have a question for Miss Preston,’ said a female reporter. ‘Firstly, I would just like to say that as the mother of a young daughter myself, I truly sympathize with what you must be going through and I do hope Molly is found safe. My question is, had Molly ever run off in the past? Was she a child who liked to explore?’

‘No, never. Even in the supermarket, Molly would never leave my side. She’s a good girl, and so bright for her age,’ Joanna sobbed.

‘Who was looking after her at the time?’ somebody shouted out.

‘Do not mention my son,’ Vinny hissed in the DI’s ear. Little Vinny might be a pain in the neck, but he was still only fourteen and needed protecting from vultures like the press.

‘You can be assured that Molly was being properly supervised on the day in question. As I said earlier, Mr Butler was unaware that the door of the club had been left open,’ the DI replied.

At that point, it was all Joanna could do to stop herself blurting out that her beautiful daughter had most certainly not been properly supervised, that she had in fact been left in the care of her partner’s rebellious teenage son, but she knew voicing her opinion would only sour things between herself and Vinny even more. The father of her child had made no attempt to speak to her today, let alone comfort her, but even though Joanna despised him at the moment, she could feel the pain he was going through. Only those who had experienced the horror themselves could hope to understand how it felt to be the parent of a missing child.

The
News of the World
reporter put his hand up. ‘I’ve got a question for Mr Butler. Vinny, in light of all the speculation that you are a leading figure in the underworld, do you not think there is a good chance that Molly has been abducted as some kind of retribution—’

‘How dare you! How fucking dare you, you unfeeling four-eyed cunt,’ Vinny shrieked, as he leapt out of his chair and launched himself at the journalist.

Aware of all the flashbulbs going off and the three policemen wrestling Vinny to the floor in an attempt to stop him from beating up the journalist, an over-emotional Joanna ran from the room.

Having made a pact not to talk about or speculate on Molly’s whereabouts any more until they had watched the TV appeal, Queenie and Vivian were currently sipping their third glass of sherry and listening to their second Mrs Mills album. ‘Always reminds me of when that bastard Hitler was bombing us, this song does, Queen. Do you remember us singing it when we were holed up in Bethnal Green tube station?’

‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’ was one of her and Vivian’s all time favourite songs, and Queenie had to smile. If she had a pound for every time Viv had asked her the same question after a few sherrys, she would be rich. ‘The good old days those were, Viv. The camaraderie was special. Not like that these days. Gone to fucking pot, this country has. They’ve let too many foreigners in, that’s what I reckon. I mean every time one of our old neighbours croaks it now, the house is given to Indians. Got nothing against ’em, they seem to work hard, but they’re not exactly mixers, are they? Can’t see them singing “Knees up Mother Brown” with us at the next Jubilee, can you?’

Vivian was about to get on her soapbox about Enoch Powell’s ‘Rivers of blood’ speech when the doorbell stopped her in her tracks. ‘You stay there. I’ll get it.’

The last thing Queenie needed right now was the company of Brenda in one of her tantrums, but that’s exactly what she got. ‘You OK, love? I meant to pop round earlier. Have you heard about poor Molly?’

‘Yes, via the Old Bill knocking on my door asking for Scotty’s surname and address. How come nobody had the decency to inform me, eh? Do I mean nothing to this family? And why has Scotty been brought into this investigation, eh? Fuck me, does he look like a murderer or nonce? I really hoped that once Scott had calmed down, me and him might have a chance of getting back together, but there’s no hope of that now, is there?’

Unable to stop herself, Queenie leapt up and smacked her inebriated, hyperventilating daughter’s face. ‘How dare you storm in here with not a word of compassion or worry about Molly? You are the most selfish person that I know, which is probably why you were last on my list to tell what had happened. Now, get out of my house and do not come back until you have thought about that poor little ha’porth. You disgust me sometimes, Bren, and I’m embarrassed to call you my daughter.’

‘And you disgust me too, Mum. It was you who brought me up to be as hard as nails. Terrible mother you’ve been, if you want to know the truth. Vinny’s evil, Roy’s dead, Michael was a druggie and I have mental health and alcohol problems.’

‘Get out! Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that,’ Vivian yelled, grabbing her niece by the elbow.

‘It’s all true. All she was ever interested in was her beloved boys. Michael’s right, you know. My dad is a good man, with a good heart. No wonder he fucking drank and slept around. Any man would have done the same, if they had the misfortune of marrying you.’

Queenie went to clump Brenda again, but somehow stopped herself. ‘Viv, she’s pissed. Get her out of here before I kill her stone dead.’

Unaware that he had not half an hour ago been the topic of conversation, Albie walked towards his old abode feeling terribly nervous and with a suitcase in his hand.

Michael had rung him the previous evening to inform him of the disappearance of his granddaughter, and unable to think about anything else, Albie had caught a train from Ipswich to London. His first stop had been Barking, but there was nobody at Michael’s house, so he had then jumped back on the District Line to Whitechapel, only to get to the club and find it locked up, with a sign on the door saying CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

Spotting a poster on a nearby fence, Albie stopped and stared sadly at the photo of Molly. He had hardly known the child, but having seen her sing on the stage at Kings in the talent competition, he was proud to call himself her grandfather. She was a little sweetheart, and sod all like Vinny, thankfully.

‘Hello, Albie.’

‘Hello, Stan. I take it you’ve heard the awful news?’

’Yes. It’s terrible. We’ve all been out looking for Molly, but the police told us to leave it to them now. I think everywhere local has been searched. They did say that if they get any new leads in other areas and need our help, they’ll let us know. There was a good crowd of us out with our torches last night, Alb. Stick together through thick and thin round ’ere, don’t we?’

Albie held out his right hand. ‘Thanks, Stan, that means a lot.’

‘Do you fancy a pint in the Blind Beggar, Albie? Drinks are on me, pal.’

Albie shook his head. He could not face being interrogated about his granddaughter in any local pub, and he knew Whitechapel had a rumour mill of its own. ‘No thanks, Stan. But very kind of you to offer. I just need to spend time with the family right now.’