The Family (40 page)

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Six

    Declan was tired. He had just reached Southend Seafront, and now he was sitting like a lemon in the traffic - he should have left his place earlier. With the top down on his BMW convertible he could smell the salt, and the even heavier smell of the doughnut stands which was making him hungry. He had to stop eating - he was getting like a fucking elephant - but it was living alone, he didn't eat properly, but knowing that still didn't make him stop.

    As he sat there in the sunshine, watching the girls go by in their skimpy summer clothes, he wondered how the night would be in the club. There had been a lot of trouble in the main nightclub. They had revamped it a year earlier, renamed it Legends and, for some reason, the last few months there had been nothing but fucking trouble in there. Not just fighting - that he could cope with. It was a nightclub in Essex after all and that was part of the Essex experience - a great night out involved a good drink and a good fight, it was almost mandatory really. No, it was the drugs, and the atmosphere they brought with them. There were new dealers coming in all the time. People they didn't know, had never heard of. Like most sensible club owners they used their own people. The franchise would be given to someone who would then deal discreetly and lucratively and they would also take the flak should the Filth decide to raid them. Not a problem in their clubs admittedly due to Phillip's connections, but every now and then there was a fake raid to make things look good. People paid a fair wedge to deal in peace, and so someone muscling in was bound to cause trouble. Which it had. The only thing was they were from out of the county, and all of them were apparently working for a ghost. The man they said had approached them was long dead. A
very
long time dead. He should know, his brother had killed him. It was Billy Bantry.

    There was definitely serious skulduggery afoot, Declan would lay money on it. But until they could pin down who had actually given out the franchises, they were no better off. Every description was different, so that meant there was more than one person at work here. It was vexing, because they really didn't need any aggro at the moment; things were going so well, it would be a shame to have to go to war. But a war it would be. Phillip was livid, and taking it all as a personal insult. It would never occur to him that a lot of people thought that the Murphys had a bit too much for their own good and that a bit more of their largesse should be spread about locally. Well, Phillip wouldn't swallow that and, if Declan was honest, neither would he. They were businessmen, not fucking probation officers; there was no law that said they had to make sure strangers were doing all right. It was laughable really. At the end of the day, what did people expect from them? Fucking charity by the sounds of it.

    Oh, Declan was annoyed and he was asking round anyone and everyone he could. Trouble was, no one seemed to be off- kilter to them and everyone had a viable excuse for their behaviour. Which left only one thing for definite. Some fucker somewhere actually thought that they could get away with something this fucking outrageous. It was insulting more than anything, and Phillip was losing patience by the hour, hence their constant presence in the nightclub.

    Whoever this was would trip up sooner or later, and when they did, he and Phillip would be ready for them.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Seven

    'This place looks fantastic, Philly, really upmarket.'

    Finoula was impressed and Philly was revelling in her adoration. He knew this was a decent venue, and something to be proud of. Philly saw himself as a bit of a catch, and he was glad he had won this girl beside him. She was a blinder in every way. A good laugh, fabulous body, a good brain in her head, and a fantastic fuck - what more could a man want from life? He was going to marry her, and he was not going to wait about either. Like her, he wanted kids, and he wanted stability. What he didn't want was someone like his mother, but there was little chance of that: Finoula didn't drink, had never even tried cocaine, and she didn't feel she had lost out because of it. She could sip water all night and still have a blinding time. She was the girl for him all right.

    'Come through to the VIP bar, babe.'

    He walked her carefully through the crowded club and, seeing the way he was treated by the punters and the staff alike, she felt so proud to be with him as his girl. This was the life for her, this was what she wanted: the respect and the kudos having the name Murphy would bring her. She was already a McCormack and that had given her a small taste of what a name could do for you in life.

    As Philly grabbed her hand and walked her into the VIP bar, she felt the excitement welling up inside her. She could see the envious glances from the other girls there, could almost feel their jealousy, and their surprise at Philly Murphy acting like a love-sick teenager, because that was just how he acted around her. It was part of his charm for her, as though he was lucky to have her. He had told her he loved her, and she knew it was true. Life was just getting better and better.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Eight

    Phillip watched the room through the two-way mirror behind the bar area. All the bars had them; it was the only way to stop thieving and people giving the drinks away for free. Though, in fairness, their staff were loyal and honest enough. It was the agency fuckers you had to watch out for. They were only there for one night and they went all out to make sure it was a good earner for them. That is until they were caught, of course - then they realised they had skanked off the wrong person. He was watching the VIP bar, eager to see this little bird of Philly's and, when they walked in, he had to admit she was a looker. She could have stepped out of the pages of a magazine, but then that wasn't too hard in Essex. All the girls were lookers. It was almost a genetic thing - they knew what was in fashion, what wasn't and where to get whatever they wanted. Even through the mirrors, Phillip could see she was special though, and watching his son's beaming face as he escorted her to the bar, it was clear that she was going to be a part of their lives from now on. She was from good stock, and it seemed like she could handle herself; if she ran the bookies as well as he had heard, she would be an asset to them. She had a business degree by all accounts, so she wasn't the usual tits and teeth - she had a bit of nous as well. His Philly had done well by the looks of it.

    Christine watched as her husband spied on his son and his new girlfriend, because that was exactly what he was doing, spying on them, and it annoyed her.

    'Come on, Phillip, let's get out there and say hello. She looks like a nice girl.'

    'I just wanted a sneak preview. If she was a Hammer Horror I was going to fuck off home to avoid them!'

    Christine laughed despite herself, Phillip could be amusing when the fancy took him. Through the mirror she saw Breda walking towards Philly and his girl all smiles and camaraderie, and she felt a rush of affection for her sister-in-law. She might get on Breda's nerves at times, but she knew Breda felt a lot of guilt over what had happened all those years ago, and genuinely cared about Christine. Breda just wanted everyone to be happy, everyone in her family anyway. As Christine watched her with her elder son it occurred to her that Breda was probably closer to him these days than she was, and she was amazed to find that the realisation didn't bother her as it would have once. She had learned to live with a lot of things over the years, and she had also accepted that it wasn't what happened to you, it was how you
dealt
with it. And she dealt with things as and when they happened now, she didn't let herself get in a state over things she had no control over. It wasn't an ideal life, but it was the best it had been in years, and all because she made a point of not letting herself think too much. That had always been her trouble.

    'She's very pretty, Phillip,' she commented to her husband.

    He nodded, but she knew that the girl's looks wouldn't affect him - if she was seventy-five, he would still want her rather than anyone else in the world. She told herself that it was a compliment, most fathers would have been drooling over this little girl and her tight young body. She decided the girl had a lovely smile, and that she liked the way she looked at her son, as if she had been given a lovely present, and was thankful for it.

    The gunshot, when it came, was deafening, even though they were inside the offices away from the club itself. As her son sank to the floor, and young Finoula started screaming, Christine realised that it was her Philly who had been the target, her baby had been shot, and blood was seeping through his lovely suit and on to the carpet she had chosen so carefully.

    She could hear someone screaming, screaming louder than everyone else, and it was a few seconds before she realised that the terrible noise was coming from her.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Nine

    'He's still in the operating theatre. This is fucking madness.' Phillip's voice was loud in the small room, loud and aggressive sounding. 'Who would dare? Who would fucking dare!' He kicked the wall in outrage, and the thud was audible to them all.

    Declan didn't answer him; he was thinking exactly the same thing, so it was pointless repeating it. If the lad died, he knew there would literally be murders, though the way Phillip was acting now, he wouldn't put it past him to take out the poor surgeon if he didn't tell him what he wanted to hear.

    'Will you calm down, Dad! For fuck's sake, this ain't helping anyone, is it?' Only Timmy could have got away with that, and even Breda was impressed that the boy was saying what they all wanted to but daren't. Even more astounding was the way Phillip swallowed it - anyone else would have been dismantled in seconds. 'Whoever is behind this is a fucking dead man, Dad, that's a given. Let's just concentrate on getting him better first. How's me mum? Has anyone been down to see her?'

    'She's all right, Timmy, I sat with her until the sedative worked,' Breda said from her place beside Finoula, who looked bedraggled and covered in blood. Finoula had held Philly in her arms until the ambulance had arrived, and travelled with him all the way to the hospital. She had been outstanding, and they knew she would be accepted by every one of them for this night's performance. If Philly survived he would be a lucky man to get this girl full-time, and they would tell him that as well. Phillip, especially, was impressed with her; he knew she had been terrified, yet she had lain over Philly, as if protecting him from further harm. The girl loved his son, of that there would never be any doubt.

    The door opened and they looked expectantly towards it. When Mad Jack walked in, Finoula ran to him and, bursting into tears, she sobbed brokenly, 'Someone shot Philly, Dad! Some bastard shot my Philly.'

    As he held his daughter to him, Mad Jack looked at Phillip and shook his head sadly. It said a lot for him that he didn't question what had occurred, or make a scene about his daughter's condition and the danger she had been in. Like everyone in the room, he saw this as an occupational hazard. And, like them, he would move heaven and earth to find the culprit. This was personal now - whoever had done the dirty deed had risked his daughter's life in the process.

    'Fucking terrible business, Phillip. Any idea who it was?'

    Phillip shook his head. 'Nah, but there's a hundred grand reward for any information, so I don't think it'll be too long before we have a fucking name.'

    Mad Jack inclined his head in agreement. 'Fucking filth they are. We'll find them, Phillip, don't you worry about that.'

    Phillip nodded, and felt the anger spiralling through him once more. 'How dare they! How dare they shoot
my
boy! I'll fucking torture and maim the cunts responsible, I'll take a fucking oath on that.'

    Mad Jack didn't even react to the venom in his words, none of them did. At the end of the day, Phillip was only saying out loud what they were all thinking. Whoever was behind this night's work would pay, and pay dearly.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty

    Veronica was heartbroken, and she knew that if her grandson died she would not be long following him. She still couldn't believe it had happened, that her lovely boy Philly had been shot. Shot in a crowded nightclub, and no one had apparently seen a thing. The shooter had been in and out in no time. In the pandemonium a gunshot always causes, he had dropped the gun on the floor and just disappeared amongst the people fighting to leave the building. There was nothing, not even a decent CCTV picture. It was unbelievable. Who the hell would
dare
to do something like that to
her
family? That was what she wanted to find out, and she was placated only by the knowledge that her Phillip was doing everything possible to find out who the culprit might be. Between him and Timmy, Declan and Breda, they had to find out sooner rather than later. Of that, she was convinced.

    As she looked at Finoula, still bloodied and bedraggled and sitting a vigil at Philly's bed, she felt the tears once more sting her eyes. The girl had been there beside him for two days, and she hadn't even gone home to change her clothes or have a bath. Her mother had brought her in a pair of jeans and a shirt, but she hadn't opened the bag containing them. She had been there since he had come up from theatre and been placed in the ICU. Her hair was like a rat's nest and her make-up was smeared all over her face. As Phillip remarked, no one could accuse her of being vain - she looked dog rough. But then her Phillip was always brutally honest about most things. Still, Veronica knew he thought the girl was a diamond. She understood that Finoula was frightened that if she left Philly, even for an hour, he would die. This little girl wouldn't go anywhere until she knew that he was going to be OK. They were all very impressed with her. She was loyal and decent and, most importantly, she hadn't been fazed by the events like a civilian would have been. Her father had been shot before, as had one of her uncles. She knew the pitfalls that came with being part of a family like theirs.

    She saw the worried eyes of Ted and Eileen Booth and, for once, she didn't have the guts to return their stares. They had gravitated between their daughter, still flat out in a side room, unable to cope with her son's injuries, and their grandson, who was not out of danger yet, not by a long chalk.

    She felt the pain inside her belly again; whatever was wrong with her was getting worse. But all she could do was ignore it, and do what she did best: support her family. When this was over she would worry about her own troubles and, until then, she would do what she always did when in doubt, she said the rosary over and over like a mantra. Though even she had to admit, the hypocrisy of her life wasn't lost on her these days.