Barking Boy Read online

  Roger raised his eyebrows. Hiding his surprise for a second time, he quickly took out a stack of paperwork from his briefcase. He watched as the young man signed along the dotted line, studying him. It wasn’t often people paid in cash, unless they were, how could he put it, unsavoury characters, or criminals, and the like. He shook both men’s hands, promising to return the following morning with the keys, before retreating back to the safety of his car.

  “This is it, Jimmy,” Aiden smiled. “Our very own place in the sun.”

  Jimmy nodded his head, knowing full well this was an impulse purchase, but as he looked up at the bar he now owned, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in his belly. The only fly in the ointment was Tommy. He wasn’t sure how his brother was going to take the news. He had an inkling it wouldn’t go down too well, though.

  Mad Dog Harris busied himself making a cup of tea. He glanced across to Tommy. “Are you sure you won’t have one, lad?”

  Tommy shook his head. He leant back in the chair, kicking his legs up onto the desk, making himself comfortable. “I’d rather have a beer.” He glanced up at the clock hanging by a nail precariously on the wall of the scrap yard office. Even by his standards, he knew it was too early for alcohol.

  Mad Dog raised his eyebrows, but kept schtum all the same. It hadn’t slipped his notice, that young Tommy had been drinking a lot more than usual of late.

  “Any news from Jimmy?”

  “Yeah, he rang me last night. He’s made contact with the gold dealer. All we need to do is ship the gold over, and he’ll take care of the rest. Apparently, it’s a piece of cake.” He was thoughtful for a few moments. “He said he has something to tell me when he gets back.” He looked across to the older man now. “I mean, Jimmy. He’s got something to tell me.”

  Mad Dog pondered over Tommy’s words. “Not trouble, I hope.”

  “Nah, I doubt it. He probably wants to shack up with this bloke of his.” Tommy blew out his cheeks. He balled a scrap of paper in his hand, and threw it across the desk, before massaging his closed eyes.

  Mad Dog watched him intently. “What’s wrong?”

  Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.” He bit down on his lip, wondering if the pub was open yet. He glanced up at the clock on the wall for a second time.

  “Drink isn’t the answer son, trust me, I know, been there, done it, got the bloody T-shirt, lad. And in the long run, it doesn’t help.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I just feel like me head’s gonna explode with it all, d’ya know what I mean?”

  Mad Dog nodded his head. “Aye, lad.” He sat forward in his seat. “But once this gold’s been taken care of, things will calm back down.”

  Tommy remained silent. He just had a sinking feeling he couldn’t shift. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “It will. How about that cup of tea now?”

  Tommy gave a small smile. “Go on then.” He may as well. After all, the pub didn’t open for another hour.

  Dean Johnson woke early. He’d always been an early riser, going right back to when he and Davey Abbott used to rob the lorries coming over from France at Tilbury docks. He thought of Davey now. It wasn’t often he thought about him, admittedly. There had been too much bad blood between them in the later years leading up to when he’d taken the man’s life. It was hard to recall the times when they had been more like brothers than business partners and mates. He sighed, and pushed Davey to the back of his mind. What’s done is done. There was no point brooding over it.

  He wandered through the empty house. At one point, it had been full of laughter. He could still hear the giggles from his wife and little Bethany, whenever they had tried to prank him. He smiled at the memory. Where had it all gone wrong? He knew the answers lie with himself. After Maggie’s death, he’d spoiled his daughter trying to over compensate the loss of her mother. As a result, he’d raised a monster—a selfish, heartless woman. He was no fool. He knew Bethany had no maternal feelings when it came to his grandson, little Cameron. Wrongly, he blamed Tommy Carter for that. The man had ruined his daughter. Her obsession with him was all consuming. She had no room inside of her to love anyone else.

  Dean took a sip of his coffee, and threw open the patio doors. He walked outside to the garden. Really, he should sell the place. It was highly unlikely they would ever move back to England. How could they? He couldn’t risk his daughter being in close proximity to Carter. Again, he blamed Tommy Carter for that. He walked across the lawn, inspecting the roses. His Maggie had loved the house. He glanced back at his home. It was only bricks and mortar, he kept telling himself that, so why was he so reluctant to sell up? He could hear the phone ringing, and walked briskly back inside the house. He crossed over to the mantel piece. Placing down his mug, he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello.” He listened for a few moments and nodded his head. “Yeah, you better come and see me.”

  Frankie Sullivan took a seat on Dean’s plush velvet sofa. He almost had to stop himself from whistling out loud. The sofa alone must have cost a couple of grand. That was without the rest of the contents of the large sitting room, from the stereo unit, to the television set, there was a fair few bob in this house.

  “Well?” Dean looked to the man and his companion, who sat beside him, expectantly.

  Frankie cleared his throat. “Shawn here dropped Hopper off to see Freddie Smith. This was the day before he, you know …,” he said and gave a little wink, “… did that job.”

  Dean turned to look at Shawn. He was a gaunt man with a long, skinny face, and thin, straggly, greasy hair. He couldn’t help but notice he had an ear lobe missing. He tore his eyes away from the missing lobe. “What did he go and see Smith about?”

  Shawn lifted his arms. A strong, foul, pungent scent of body odour wafted out from him. “Dunno. He didn’t say.” As he spoke, a piece of food remnant flew out of his mouth down onto Dean’s carpet.

  Averting his eyes, Dean nodded his head. He weighed up whether it was worth paying Smith a visit. The likelihood was that Hopper could have gone to see the man about anything, not necessarily the gold. “Okay.” He spoke slowly, as he tried to think. “Looks like a visit to Smith is in order then.” He gathered up his jacket. “Well, come on,” he barked. “There’s work to do.”

  Freddie Smith, flanked by Danny and Moray, strolled inside the Ilford Palais. Now that the gold had been retrieved, he didn’t have a care in the world. As the Top Dog of the East End, it was his given right that people spoke to him with the respect he deserved, whether they be young or old. If they didn’t tip him his due, they would soon feel the back of his hand. To his surprise, he entered the main club, to find Dean Johnson and his heavy, helping themselves to a bottle of brandy. Freddie narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on here?”

  Dean Johnson held his glass aloft inspecting the colour of the alcohol. “Is this watered down?”

  Freddie shook his head, too stunned to speak.

  “That old trick is it then?” He pointed his finger toward Freddie. “You’ve poured cheap brandy into an expensive brandy bottle, that way you can charge over the odds for it, am I right?”

  Freddie nodded his head, causing Dean to laugh. “They’re probably too pissed to even notice the difference.” He placed his glass on the bar and walked toward Freddie, slinging his arm across the man’s shoulder. “Me and you need to have a little chat about a mutual friend of ours.”

  Inwardly, Freddie groaned. It had to be something to do with Mark Hopper. If there was so much as a gold bar missing, he’d come down on McKay and Garner like a ton of bricks. Too wrapped up in himself, Freddie failed to notice the startled glance shared between his two heavies.

  Stacey pushed open the door to the Short Blue Public House, and marched across the floor toward the bar. Little Jake was nestled on her hip. “So, this is where you’ve been all afternoon is it, propping up the bar?” She spat out her words, disgusted by her husband’s behaviour. “How could you, Tommy?”

 
Tommy placed his pint glass down on the bar and groaned, turning his head toward his wife. “What have I done now? Did I forget to put the milk back in the fridge this morning or something?” He gave a grin and resumed downing his pint.

  Stacey shook her head. She moved toward him. “You missed your daughter’s school play. You know, Karen, your daughter? You must remember her, that little girl who happens to call you Daddy.”

  Anger flashed across Tommy’s blue eyes. In that instant, he looked menacing and Stacey took a step backwards. She gulped. She’d never been scared of her husband before. Tommy had never given her any reason to be, but in that moment, she saw him as others did, dangerous.

  As quick as it came, the anger was gone. “I’m sorry, okay? I completely forgot it was today. I’ve had a lot on my mind, Stace.”

  “No, it’s not okay. I reminded you this morning, before you left for work, that the play was this afternoon. What’s got into you, Tommy? This isn’t like you.” She pointed her finger toward him. “And you can be the one to explain to our Karen, why you weren’t there to watch her. Her little face, Tommy, looking for you in the audience, it broke my heart, it did. You promised her you’d be there.”

  Tommy closed his eyes briefly, before looking to the floor, his hands placed across the bar. “I know I did, and I’ve said I’m sorry. What more do you want me to say?”

  Taking a step closer, Stacey placed her hand on her husband’s back, the anger within her ebbing away. “What is going on, Tommy?” She watched as he ordered another beer, and shook her head. “Please, will you just come home and talk to me?”

  “I will do when I’ve finished this one.”

  Stacey sighed. Her Tommy was on a downwards spiral and she could see it happening before her own eyes. In a quandary, she didn’t know what to do for the best. She didn’t trust him to come home on his own accord if she left the pub without him. “Okay, well, I’m going to sit over there and wait for you.” She nodded her head toward a table in the corner.

  Rolling his eyes, Tommy continued drinking. Women, he sighed. He gulped at his beer. All he wanted to do was get plastered. He’d had enough of everyone and everything around him, and getting pissed was the only sure way of blocking everything out.

  Taking a seat, Freddie Smith swallowed deeply. “So, what is this all about?”

  Dean lit a cigar, before pausing. “You don’t mind do you?” He indicated toward the smoking cigar, and smiled when Freddie shook his head. “Where’s my manners, eh? That’s always been my trouble, I do things without thinking of the consequences. It used to drive my late wife mad, she would have to reprimand me all the time.” He gave a grin, showing perfect white teeth. He puffed on the cigar before getting down to business. “Mark Hopper.”

  Freddie could feel his face pale and he battled to regain his composure. He knew it, those thieving bastards had taken a gold bar. “Yeah, what about him?” There was caution in Freddie’s voice.

  “A little dicky bird told me that he came to see you a while back.”

  Freddie narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?” He couldn’t see where Dean was going with the conversation.

  Dean spread out his arms. “So, what did he want to see you about?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking Mark that question?”

  Dean smiled. “I would if I knew where to find him.” He banged his fist down on the desk, his voice rising. “Now, I’m gonna ask you one last time before I end up losing my temper.” He gave a little grin, chilling Freddie to the bone. “And trust me, you don’t want that to happen, not unless you want this lovely club of yours to burn down to the ground with you inside it. Now, what did he come to see you about?”

  Freddie shrank back in his seat, weighing up his options. Between Hopper and Dean Johnson, he wasn’t so sure which one out of the two was worse. Finally, he spoke. “The gold. He wanted me to stash it away for him.”

  “And did you?”

  Freddie nodded his head. He swallowed. Did they know someone had gotten into the club and stolen it?

  “Well?” Dean spread out his arms. “What happened next?”

  “Hopper brought it here, and then he collected it from two of my men.”

  Dean was thoughtful. He stared at Freddie through hooded eyes. “So, where did he go? Where did he take the gold?”

  Freddie shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. Look, what’s this all about?”

  Dean ignored the question. So, Mark did have the gold. He tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Have you heard from him since he took the gold?”

  “No.” Freddie gave a little shake of his head.

  Dean stood up. He walked toward the door, before pausing. “Do you know Tommy Carter?”

  A snarl spread across Freddie’s face. “Yeah.”

  Gaging by Freddie’s reaction, the two men weren’t on friendly terms. “He isn’t a friend of yours I take it?”

  “Can’t stand the jumped up prick. Why? Has he got something to do with this?”

  Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps.” He walked out of Freddie’s office. For all intent and purposes, it seemed to be the case, that Tommy Carter was the last person to see Mark Hopper.

  Shooing the children into the living room, Stacey quickly switched on the television set. She gave the children a biscuit each, and told them to be good, while she had a little chat with Daddy.

  With the children now settled, Stacey walked through to the kitchen. “Talk to me,” she pleaded to her husband.

  Tommy sat down heavily at the table. He wasn’t happy that he’d been dragged out of the pub. He was a grown man, not a school boy. “What do you want me to say?”

  Close to tears, Stacey wiped her fingers across her eyes, angrily. “You,” she stated. “Something’s not right. You can’t see it, but I can. I know you.”

  “You don’t wanna know, Stace. Trust me on this.”

  Open-mouthed, Stacey stared at her husband. “So, I’m right. Something is wrong.” She took a seat opposite Tommy, and reached out to grab his hand. He snatched it away, and she almost gasped in shock.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall,” Tommy snapped. “I keep telling you I’ve got a lot going on with work, amongst other things. I just need to let off a bit of steam, that’s all. I’m sorry about Karen’s play, okay? I genuinely forgot. I don’t know why you’re making such a drama out of it?”

  Stacey’s voice was small as she replied. “Because, I’m worried about you.”

  Tommy shook his head. “Just do me a favour, and leave me alone, Stace, please. Let me deal with things my own way.” He stood up from the table, scrapping the chair across the lino.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” Snatching up his keys, Tommy left the house, leaving his wife to sit at the table with tears rolling down her cheeks.

  It was Mad Dog who picked Jimmy up from the airport. Surprised, Jimmy’s eyes were wide. “Where’s Tommy?”

  “We’ll talk about that later, lad.” Mad Dog gave a small nod of his head toward Aiden. “So, how was the holiday?”

  With half an ear, Mad Dog listened to what they had to say. He could sense Jimmy was quieter than usual, and he knew he’d worried the lad. He was worried himself, and if he was being truthful, he was glad to have young Jimmy back home. Maybe he would be able to get through to his brother, where the others hadn’t.

  They dropped Aiden off at his flat, and as soon as the door was closed, Jimmy turned in his seat toward the older man. “So, come on, what the hell is going on?”

  Mad Dog puffed out his cheeks. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me, lad. Tommy’s not been himself, drinking a lot, arguing with his misses, ready to bite everyone’s head off.”

  “Why? I don’t understand. He was fine before I left.”

  “Was he?” Mad Dog turned his head sideways. “He hasn’t been right since that job at the Palais. Now, I don’t know what went on, and I don’t need to know, but whatever i
t is, it’s taking its toll on him.”

  Jimmy remained silent. Tommy would bounce back, he always did. “I’ll speak to him,” he answered confidently.

  Tommy was sitting alone in the scrap yard office, when Mad Dog pulled the car to a halt on the forecourt. Jumping out of his seat, Tommy walked toward the door, flinging it open. He pulled Jimmy into his arms, and held on for dear life.

  “Am I glad to see you!” Tommy grinned. “I’ve missed you, bruv.”

  Jimmy smiled. He took note of Tommy’s appearance. Other than looking a bit tired, he looked the same as usual. “Same here! So, what’s been going on?” He looked his brother in the eyes, not giving him the chance to look away.

  Tommy shook his head. He didn’t even know where to start. He could feel a hard lump form in his throat and he sat back down. He swallowed quickly. “All of this,” he said.

  “What?” Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.

  Taking a deep breath, Tommy continued trying to explain himself. “The gold, Hopper. It’s doing me head in, Jimmy.” He paused. “I feel like I have to be a step ahead of everything, d’ya know what I mean?”

  Jimmy shook his head, still unable to understand where his brother was coming from. “You’ve always been a step ahead of everything.”

  “It’s like …,” Tommy paused, trying to find the right words. “I wouldn’t be bothered if this was to do with me. You know me, and I don’t give a shit about anyone. I can fight my own battles. But when it comes to you lot—my family, my kids—I can’t deal with it.” He held his head in his hands.

  Alarmed, Jimmy moved forward. He’d never seen his brother in such a state before. Even when Stacey had left him, he hadn’t been this bad. “Come on, bruv. We’ve taken care of Hopper and the gold’s being sorted out. You’ve got Freddie Smith off of your back as well. As far as he knows, Hopper has the gold.”