The Trap

Vinny was very good at staring at people for long spells without blinking, and he had never met a man yet in his life who could hold his gaze. When Johnny dropped his eyes, Vinny grabbed him by the neck and smashed his head as hard as he could against the metal door. ‘Your slag of a sister will get rid of that kid whether you like it or not. I’ll kick it out of her personally, if I have to. Now go crawl back under your rock and tell that whore you’re related to that I’ll be round next week to check she’s un-pregnanted her fucking self.’

When Dave punched Vinny in the side of the head, Christopher Walker stood up to get a better view.

‘Silly move, you dumb cunt,’ Christopher heard Vinny say. He then saw Vinny repeatedly punch the man in the stomach, with what looked to be a knife.

When Johnny Preston saw his pal lying lifeless on the floor with blood pumping out of his abdomen, he knew it was time for a quick getaway. He ran like the clappers, leapt into his Triumph Herald and sped off as Vinny chased the car, screaming abuse at him.

Vinny could feel his heart beating ferociously as the car disappeared out of sight. It wasn’t down to nerves, more annoyance that Preston had got away as he’d wanted to stab that bastard too.

Punching a nearby wall, Vinny quickly looked up and down the road. Thankfully, being a Sunday afternoon there wasn’t a soul in sight, so Vinny stepped over Dave Phillips’ dead body, picked up the knife he had dropped, jumped in his Jaguar, and was just about to drive off, when he saw young Christopher Walker sitting in the doorway opposite the club. Leaning across the passenger seat to unlock the door, Vinny ordered young Christopher to get in.

Christopher no longer had any adrenaline pumping through his veins as he did what Vinny asked. He had seen too much now, far too much, and he was petrified. When Vinny drove past his parent’s café, Christopher started to sob. ‘You’re not gonna kill me as well, are you? I won’t say nothing about what happened, Vinny. I swear I won’t.’

With his head all over the place, Vinny pulled into a nearby sidestreet and stopped the car. He took a ten-pound note out of his pocket and handed it to Christopher. ‘Take that and there is plenty more where that came from. You saw nothing, understand?’

‘Yes. I understand,’ the boy said, making a grab for the money and then the door handle.

Vinny leant across Christopher so he couldn’t get out of the car. ‘You need to dry them tears before you get home, boy, and when you do get home, you gotta act normal. Me and you will be best pals for life if you keep your trap shut about this, OK?’

‘OK,’ Christopher said, desperately trying to dry his eyes with the sleeve of his duffle coat.

Vinny tilted the child’s chin up, and looked him in the eyes. ‘This has to stay our little secret. You don’t want anything bad to happen to your mum, dad, or sister, do you? Because if you say something, that’s exactly what will happen.’

‘No, I love my mum, dad and sister.’

‘There’s a good boy,’ Vinny said, ruffling Christopher’s hair.

When Vinny finally opened the car door for him, Christopher took off down the street like a rat up a drainpipe. To say he was terrified was putting it mildly.

Freda Smart knelt down next to the man and immediately knew he was dead. It wasn’t just the blood that had seeped out of his stomach and decorated the pavement; it was seeing his shocked open-mouthed expression and his eyes rolled back lifelessly in his head.

After yesterday’s events with Kenny Jackson, Freda had made a point of standing guard at her window today. Unfortunately for her, her house was on the same side of the road as the snooker club, so she hadn’t had a clear view of exactly what had occurred. Even so, she was sure she’d seen and heard enough to put Vinny Butler in prison for life, where he belonged.

Seeing what she thought was the man’s hand flinch, Freda screamed and ran towards Herbie Jacob’s house. Freda couldn’t afford such luxuries as a telephone, but old Herbie had one.

‘Whatever’s wrong, Freda? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,’ Herbie said, when he answered his front door.

‘I have! There’s a man dead on the pavement. Call the police, Herbie. I know who killed him.’

Word travelled fast in Whitechapel, and within minutes of the police turning up, a crowd of fifty or so onlookers had arrived at the scene.

‘Was it you who reported the murder?’ one of the police officers asked Herbie.

Freda immediately butted in. ‘No. It was me. I know who killed him. I was looking out of my window, and I asked Herbie to ring you on my behalf.’

The police officer took Freda to one side. ‘If you can tell us what you know now, that would be most helpful. Then, we will need you to come down to the station to make a formal statement for us at some point.’

‘Vinny Butler killed the man. The man had a mate with him and I saw him chase the mate down the road. The mate got into a white car and drove off at top speed,’ Freda gabbled.

‘But, what about the actual murder? Did you see Mr Butler stab the victim with your own eyes?’

‘No. My house is on the same side of the road as his club, so my view was blocked. I saw a boy I know standing opposite though. He saw everything and then Vinny made him get inside his car with him. I hope he ain’t killed that poor child as well, like he did Jack’s son, Peter,’ Freda cried.

‘If you could just give us the name of the boy involved, we can get our team onto it to make sure he is OK,’ the officer said kindly.

‘His parents have just opened the café along the road there. It was their son that saw everything. He’d been sitting in the doorway opposite the club for a while beforehand. His name is Christopher. Christopher Walker.’

CHAPTER NINE

Mary Walker clocked her son’s pale complexion as soon as he returned home. ‘What’s up with you? Not been near that club again, have you?’

Seeing his father look at him with suspicion in his eyes, Christopher bowed his head. ‘I don’t feel well. I got belly ache,’ he said, rubbing his stomach in the hope that it would make his lie seem more believable.

‘Go upstairs and have a lie-down then, boy. Dinner will be ready in about an hour or so,’ Mary told him.

Donald grinned as he finished going over the figures, then in a jovial mood, put his favourite record on the jukebox. Since employing Shirley to help them out, his and Mary’s takings had gone up even more. Their wonderful café was on its way to making them a bloody fortune, and Donald couldn’t believe their luck. Things were going even better than he had predicted.

Hearing a knock at the door, Mary switched the jukebox off at the mains. ‘You answer that, Donald, and if it’s someone complaining about the music being too loud, best you apologize. I told you not to turn the volume up, didn’t I?’

Donald answered the door and was rather taken aback when he came face to face with a policeman. ‘Come in, officer,’ he said, guessing that the visit was probably to do with the incident his children had witnessed at the snooker club the previous day.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Mary asked, politely.

‘No, thank you. Is your son, Christopher, at home by any chance?’ the officer asked Donald.

‘Yes, he is upstairs. I take it this is about yesterday’s awful turnout? I hope that poor man is OK. My Christopher thought he was dead, but you know how kids exaggerate,’ Donald said, knowingly.

‘Actually, it’s about the incident that happened today. We have reason to believe that your son was at the scene of the crime and is a key witness to a man’s murder.’

Donald shook his head in a pedantic manner. ‘No, officer, you have got it all wrong. The incident at the party which my son attended was yesterday, wasn’t it, Mary?’ he said, looking at his wife for back-up.

‘Yes, it was round at the snooker hall yesterday afternoon. My daughter attended the party as well. She is upstairs too, so would you like to speak to both of our children?’ Mary asked, feeling anxious. She wasn’t that keen on the police involving Nancy and Christopher, but the law was the law.

The officer cleared his throat loudly. ‘I’m afraid we have our wires crossed here somewhat. There was a murder not two hours ago outside the snooker club that you referred to, and according to an eye-witness your son saw exactly what happened and then got into the suspect’s car. I know nothing about any other incident that may or may not have happened yesterday.’

Donald was livid when he realized his son must have disobeyed his orders. He flung open the door that led to the living quarters. ‘Christopher, get down here now,’ he yelled.

Feeling rather faint, Mary flopped onto one of the chairs. No wonder the boy had looked so white and near to tears when he’d arrived home.

Christopher was almost paralysed through fear when he came face to face with the police officer.

Donald couldn’t help but glare at his son as he sat down next to Mary. Christopher had guilt written all over his deathly-white face.

‘Were you sitting in the doorway opposite the snooker club earlier, Christopher?’ asked the policeman.

‘Yeah I was, but not for long. I went to knock for my mate Tommy, but he wasn’t in, so I sat on the step on my way back to eat my sweets.’

‘You must tell the truth, boy,’ Donald ordered, pointing his finger dangerously close to his son’s face.

‘A man was murdered outside the snooker club earlier, Christopher, and the police know you were there when it happened. We have a witness who recognized you. Can you tell us exactly what you saw?’

Christopher racked his brain for the best way to get himself out of the mess he was in. If he had been spotted at the scene, he would have to admit to seeing something, but there was no way he was grassing Vinny up. He was way too scared for his own safety and he didn’t want anything bad to happen to his mum, dad, or sister. ‘I did hear some shouting, then I heard someone running away, but I didn’t see what happened because there was a car parked in front of where I was sitting.’

The officer sighed. He was sure little Christopher was lying. ‘Did you get into anybody’s car?’

‘No. My mum and dad have told me never to get in a stranger’s car. I walked home on my own.’

‘Please don’t be frightened to tell me the truth, Christopher. The man who has committed this murder will be locked up for many years to come, so it will not be possible for him to hurt you.’

‘I did see a man run away, and I think he was the killer, but I didn’t see the murder,’ Christopher wept.

Donald squeezed Mary’s hand. Everything had been going so well for them since moving to Whitechapel. So why did this drama have to bloody well happen?

The officer stood up. Obviously Vinny Butler had already nobbled the child, and it would take one of his superiors to get the truth out of him. He personally had been ordered to go gently on Christopher, which was why he had been sent to the café alone.

‘So, what happens now? Will you need to interview Christopher again?’ Donald asked, as he opened the door and followed the policeman outside.

‘Yes, he will almost definitely have to come down to the station to give a formal statement. In the meantime, perhaps you could have a little chat with him. I have a feeling that Christopher knows more than he is letting on.’

‘Do you mind if I ask who your suspect is?’ Donald enquired. He had already guessed that it was something to do with the Butlers, but was interested to know exactly who was involved.

‘I’m afraid I can’t speculate at the moment, Mr Walker. Us police officers have to abide by our innocent until proven guilty rule, and until somebody is actually charged, it would be very unprofessional of me to give out any names. I will speak to my superior and will be in touch again soon, OK?’

Donald nodded, shut the door and leant against it. Christopher was crying and Mary was cuddling the deceitful child. Unable to stop himself, Donald ran towards his son and clouted him as hard as he could around the ear.

‘Stop it, Donald! He’s upset enough as it is,’ Mary exclaimed.

Grabbing his son roughly by the arm, Donald took his shoe off and swiped it against Christopher’s backside. ‘How dare you defy my orders and hang around that bloody club? Now, get up those stairs and have a re-think about what you actually saw. As upstanding citizens of the community it is our duty to catch criminals, not harbour them. Also, just think of how beneficial it will be to your own career if you do decide to join the police force and they are aware that you helped catch a murderer at such a young age, eh?’

When Christopher ran upstairs sobbing, Mary put her head in her hands. ‘Why did this have to happen to us, Donald? Why?’

Holding his distraught wife in his arms, Donald shook his head sadly. For once, he really did not have an answer.

As usual on a Sunday afternoon, Queenie cooked a roast for all the family.

‘Whatever’s wrong? Has Kenny kicked the bucket?’ she asked worriedly, when Vinny walked in. Just one look at her eldest son’s face told her that something terrible had happened.

‘Vinny,’ Lenny yelled, running out of the lounge and throwing his arms around his big cousin’s waist.

Vinny took a two-bob note out of his pocket and handed it to Lenny. ‘I want you and Brenda to go to the shops and buy yourselves some sweets, Champ.’

‘What’s up?’ Roy asked, shutting the lounge door.

‘Where’s Michael?’ Vinny replied, ignoring his brother’s question.

‘Out on his moped.’

Vinny explained everything that had happened outside the club, then put his head in his hands. He didn’t feel any remorse whatsoever over what he had done, but he didn’t want his mother thinking she had given birth to a cold-blooded killer. ‘I didn’t mean to kill the geezer, but it was two against one, Mum. I had to stick up for myself, didn’t I? They could have been tooled up or anything for all I knew.’

Both Queenie and Vivian put comforting arms around Vinny’s slumped shoulders. ‘You did what you had to do, boy. Nothing more, nothing less,’ Vivian told him.

‘Yep. Vivvy’s right. They turned up looking for a row and unfortunately for them, they got one. I know it’s sad that you accidently killed the man, but there’s no point crying over spilt milk. What’s done is done, boy. Now apart from that young lad, was there anybody else about?’

‘No. It all happened so quickly, and apart from the kid, the street was desolate. Thank Christ our club is in a quiet sidestreet, eh, Roy?’ Vinny said, staring at his brother.

Roy nodded, but said nothing. Vinny had always been a volatile bastard with a foul temper even when they were kids. Just lately though, Roy could sense his brother’s unpredictability and violent nature getting worse, which worried him greatly. In the past couple of weeks alone, he had put their own father in hospital, smashed the living daylights out of Kenny Jackson, and now he had stabbed some poor sod to death.

Guessing what Roy was thinking, Vinny glared at him. ‘Say something then, if it’s only bollocks. What was I meant to do, eh? Stand there like a lemon and let them do me over? You weren’t there to back me up, was ya?’

Queenie butted in before Roy could retaliate. ‘Arguing between us isn’t gonna solve this, is it? What we need is a watertight alibi in case the police start sniffing round. You were here with me, Vivian, Roy and the kids, OK, Vinny? I’ll word Brenda and Lenny up and worst ways, you give me fifty quid and I’ll give it to Old Ivy next door to say she saw you arrive early as well.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ Vinny said, his voice full of relief. Old Ivy had given him an alibi once or twice in the past in exchange for cash, and Vinny knew she could be trusted.

‘Well, that’s that then. You both got here at one o’clock. Now, all you’ve got to hope is that child keeps his mouth shut, Vinny. Did you threaten him to do so?’

Vinny nodded his head. He liked children and felt more guilty about threatening Christopher Walker than committing the murder.

‘What exactly did you say to him?’ Vivian asked.

‘Not much. I just made sure he knew that if he opened his trap something bad would happen to his family. I gave him a tenner an’ all.’

Queenie squeezed her son’s hand. ‘Do you want me and Vivian to have a word with him as well? We can catch him on his way to or from school.’

‘No, leave it for now, Mum. The boy looked petrified enough, so let’s just see what happens, eh? It will only be my word against his if he says anything. Johnny Preston definitely ain’t gonna grass me, so I think it’s best we just ride the storm. I mean if you, Viv, Roy, Ivy and the kids all swear blind I was here, what can the Old Bill do?’

When the doorbell rang, Vivian sprang up and spied through the net curtain. ‘It’s the police.’

Queenie shoved Roy out the back door. ‘You need to clue Brenda and Lenny up. Go find ’em, quick.’

When Roy bolted out the back, Queenie took a deep breath and wiped her clammy hands on her apron. She then opened the front door and smiled. ‘Good afternoon, officers. What can I do for you?’

‘Oh my God! I hope that isn’t the police again,’ Mary exclaimed, when she heard a pummelling against the front door of the café.

‘You stay here. I’ll sort it,’ Donald insisted, running down the stairs.

‘Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Stevens. I understand one of my colleagues popped in to see you earlier?’

‘Yes, that is correct. Would you like to come in?’ Donald asked, apprehensively.

‘No. I would actually like you and your son to come along to the police station with me. We have organized an identification parade, and it would be most helpful if your son could pick out the man he saw arguing with the victim.’

‘I’m very sorry, but Christopher is only eight years old and I think it is wholly inappropriate that he be involved in something as nerve-racking as an identification parade. I have just had a very long chat with Christopher myself and I can assure you that he has told you everything he knows. My son has been brought up with morals and he would never lie about something as serious as this.’

D.I. Stevens nodded understandingly. ‘I do see what you mean, but this identification parade will not take very long and I can assure you our suspects will not see or even know that your son is there, Sir.’

Donald sighed. He had always classed himself as a pillar of the community, so how could he say no? ‘Wait there while I speak to Christopher.’

Vinny Butler followed the seven other men into the empty room. He hadn’t been arrested, his alibi was watertight, and when the police had asked him to participate in an identification parade, he had readily agreed. He had to act as though he was innocent, and it would be a sign of guilt if he refused.

Wondering who was behind the blacked-out window, Vinny felt his heart rate quadruple. Asking himself if there had been another witness he hadn’t spotted, Vinny made a mental note to dispose of the knife and the clothes he had been wearing the following morning. After dropping off Christopher earlier, he had hidden them as best as he could, but the clothes needed burning as they were splashed with blood, and the knife needed to be got rid of properly. Roy would have to sort both out for him, in case he himself was being watched.

Vinny glanced at the other men in the line-up. They were all roughly his age, but none was as good-looking or oozed class like he did. When the officer barked orders for all eight men to stand up straight and stare at the blackened window,Vinny, being Vinny, stood tall and more confidently than any other.

Christopher chewed his lip nervously when he was told to study the men one by one. His dad was sitting in the room with him, which was making him feel even more anxious. ‘Nope, it’s definitely none of them who I saw,’ he mumbled, after a couple of minutes.

‘Take your time, Christopher. We have reason to believe that the perpetrator of this terrible crime is amongst these men. You sit here and have a long hard look, while I have a little chat with your dad outside.’

Donald followed the officer out of the room.

‘My colleague said something about your children attending a party at a snooker club yesterday that is owned by Vinny and Roy Butler. Are you two families friends?’

‘Oh, dear God, no! We have only moved into the area recently and my wife and I have barely spoken to the Butler family. My daughter has just started a new school and is in the same class as young Brenda. That is the only reason why she and Christopher got invited to the party.’

‘And what was this incident your son was involved in yesterday? My colleague mentioned that somebody was attacked at the party?’ D.I. Stevens asked. He was well aware of Kenny Jackson being admitted to the London Hospital, but his wife had insisted he had fallen over drunk, which both she and he knew was a big fat lie.

‘No, as far as I’m aware nobody was attacked, officer. My children ran home scared because they saw a man lying on the floor bleeding nearby the building as they left,’ Donald lied. His Christopher was in too deep as it was, and he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for even more questioning.

‘Does your son know Vinny Butler well, Mr Walker?’

‘No, of course he doesn’t,’ Donald spat.

Furious that he was getting nowhere fast, D.I. Stevens strode back into the room and left Donald standing outside. Whitechapel was becoming a hotbed for gangland families and murders these days and it was his duty to stamp out such scum.

‘Have you recognized anybody now, Christopher?’ he asked, with a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

‘No, Sir. It was none of those men that I saw near the club.’

‘Take a look again at number one, Christopher. Are you damn sure it wasn’t him?’

Number one was Vinny and when Christopher stared at him again, it felt as though Vinny was staring straight back at him. Thinking what scary eyes Vinny had, Christopher remembered the threat to harm his parents and sister and frantically shook his head. ‘It definitely wasn’t him, Sir. If anything, the man I saw looked more like number four.’

CHAPTER TEN

As Christmas beckoned, not for the first time in his life, Vinny truly believed he had got away with murder.

‘Morning, Vin. Mental last night, weren’t it? I bet you wish we weren’t shutting tonight now, don’t you?’ Roy said, putting two mugs of tea on the coffee table. The boys had properly moved into the club earlier this week, and now the upstairs had been re-decorated, it looked much more homely than before.

Vinny shook his head. Friday was usually their busiest night of the week, but it had been his decision to close the club because it was Christmas Eve. ‘Nope. I ain’t got no regrets. We could do with a break ourselves. I’m meeting Geary at lunchtime. How much do you think I should bung him on top of what we pay for this place?’ Vinny asked his brother.

George Geary had been keeping them up to date with developments on the murder of Dave Phillips. Obviously, Vinny hadn’t admitted anything, but it was very comforting to know that the only witness who had come forward was Mad Freda. It was also through Geary that Vinny knew that it had been Christopher Walker behind the blacked-out window at the identification parade, and Vinny had thought it fucking hilarious that the kid had picked out bloke number four rather than him. Vinny had sensibly kept well away from the café, and hadn’t seen Christopher since.

‘Wait and see what info Geary has got for us. If he tells you Jack shit again, just give him fifty on top as a Christmas drink. If he has found out where the Prestons are though, you’d better give one an’ half at least,’ Roy advised.

Vinny nodded. It had been just over a week since Roy had paid Judy Preston a visit to check if she’d had the abortion. There had been no answer, then a neighbour had come out to inform him that Judy had moved out ten days earlier. Vinny had been absolutely furious and, unable to get involved himself just in case Geary had got it wrong and he was being followed, he had sent Michael to visit his arsehole of a father in hospital just to find out where Judy’s mother lived. He had then sent Roy round there only to find out that Mummy had done a runner too. So, Vinny had asked Geary if he could find out their whereabouts. He had also heard through the grapevine from a couple of his South London punters that Johnny Preston had disappeared off the face of the bloody earth, so Vinny wanted Geary to check out that story as well. Seeing as Johnny had run and left his best pal to die in a pool of blood like the coward he was, Vinny was sure that he wouldn’t go mouthing off about the murder. Geary hadn’t yet put two and two together, Vinny was sure of that. If he had, the Chief Inspector would have been on his case for more money like he usually was when he had something on him, and even if he did see the light, Vinny had his answer ready for him.