Graveyard to hell, p.7
Graveyard to Hell, page 7
‘Got a warrant?’
‘What do you think?’
Manton shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. Look all you want. If you find Ben, let me know. I could put him to work for two years and he’d still owe me money.’
‘My heart bleeds for you,’ Brady said and he opened the door.
Manton smiled, teeth gleaming beneath the clipped moustache. ‘Come to think of it, I could do with another man on the door in the spring, Brady. How long before you retire?’
Brady’s hand tightened on the door handle, the knuckles whitening as the anger churned up into his throat in a tight ball that threatened to choke him.
He took a deep breath and when he spoke, his voice was remarkably controlled. ‘Now that was a stupid remark for a smart boy like you to make, Manton. Really stupid.’
And Manton knew it. As his smile evaporated, Brady grinned gently, closed the door and walked across the thick carpet to the entrance.
The rain, which had drifted on the wind for most of the evening, was falling heavily now and he paused beside the old newspaper man who was swathing himself in a groundsheet. Brady picked up a newspaper and opened it at the sports page.
‘Ben Garvald, Micky. Remember him?’
The old man’s voice was hoarse and broken, roughened by disease and bad liquor over the years. ‘Couldn’t forget one like him, Mr Brady.’
‘Has he gone in the Flamingo tonight?’
The old man ignored him, pretending to search for change in one of his pockets. ‘Not a chance. There’s always Manton’s private entrance, mind you, beside the staff door in the alley. There’s a stair straight up to his flat.’
‘Good man, Micky.’
Brady dropped a couple of half crowns into the old man’s palm, received a copper or two in change for appearances’ sake and moved away. At the corner of the alley which cut along the side of the Flamingo, he paused and glanced back. There was no sign of the commissionaire at the entrance and he moved into the narrow opening quickly.
There was a row of overflowing dustbins, and an old gas lamp bracketed to a wall illuminated two doors. One was marked Private – Staff Only. The other carried no sign and when he tried the handle, it was locked.
At the other end of the alley, he could see the main road and the sound of the late night traffic was muted and strange as if it came from another place. He checked his watch. It was a little after eleven and he didn’t have to return to the office till midnight. He went back along the alley towards the square, found a doorway, moved into the shadows and waited.
It was bitterly cold and time passed slowly. He leaned in the corner, hands thrust deep into his pockets, and time crawled, minute by slow minute, and no one came. He was wrong, that was the truth of it. You must be getting old. Manton had said that and maybe it was true. Was this all he had to show for twenty-five years?
A strange nostalgia gripped him. If only he could start again, go back to the beginning, how different everything would be. As if from a great distance, he seemed to hear voices. He took a deep breath and came back to reality with a start, realizing to his annoyance, that he had almost fallen asleep.
A man had moved from the shadows and stood beside the staff entrance lighting a cigarette. Brady recognized Chuck Lazer at once, and also remembered that the American was employed as a pianist at the club.
As the staff door closed on Lazer, Brady leaned back again, shivering as a cold wind moved along the alley, lifting the skirts of his raincoat. He was wasting his time, that much was obvious.
He lifted his wrist to examine the luminous dial of his watch and saw to his astonishment that it was ten minutes past twelve and at that moment the door to Manton’s private staircase opened and someone whistled softly. Ben Garvald moved out of the shadows farther along the alley, paused under the lamp and vanished inside.
Trapped by his own astonishment, Brady stayed there in the shadow for a moment, then pulling himself together, he went forward, a cold finger of excitement making his stomach hollow.
The door to Fred Manton’s private staircase was still immovable, but the staff entrance opened to his touch and he hurried inside.
11
When Lazer opened the private door and Garvald entered, he found himself in a small square hall at the bottom of a flight of carpeted stairs. Lazer went first. At the top, he opened a door cautiously and peered into a narrow corridor.
‘What have we got here?’ Garvald demanded softly.
‘Manton’s private suite. His office is at the far end. He’s in there now, I’ve just been speaking to him. He wants me to take a couple of boys from the band and go up to Bella’s place to make with the mood music. Big party night.’
‘Anything special?’
‘Harry’s birthday.’
‘She must be getting sentimental in her old age,’ Garvald said. ‘Don’t tell her you’ve seen me. I’d like it to be a surprise.’
‘My pleasure.’ Lazer grinned widely. ‘Maybe you’ll be up there later on?’
‘Depends on how the cards fall. I’m staying at the Regent Hotel in Gloyne Street. If anything comes up, you can get in touch with me there.’
‘Will do.’ They moved along the corridor and the American opened a green baize door on the left. ‘This way to hell,’ he said as music and laughter drifted up. ‘Don’t do anything I would.’
Garvald went along the corridor and paused outside the door at the far end. For a moment he hesitated, waiting for some sound through the half-open transom. He was conscious of a movement behind him and turned quickly.
A tall, broad shouldered man was standing watching him. He had long dark hair swept back over each ear, curling slightly at the nape of the neck and one good eye regarded Garvald unwinkingly. The other was coated with an obscene patina of cream and silver.
‘What’s a game, Jack?’ he demanded in a harsh voice.
Garvald looked him up and down calmly, turned without a word and opened the door. The room into which he entered was decorated in cream and gold and a fire flickered in a Queen Anne fireplace. Manton was sitting behind a walnut desk, papers spread before him. He glanced up with a start.
For several moments he and Garvald looked steadily at each other and then Manton sighed. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t do this, Ben.’
‘Come back?’ Garvald shrugged, opened a silver box on the desk and helped himself to a cigarette. ‘A man needs his friends after what I’ve been through, Fred. Where else would I go?’
The man with the wall-eye spoke from the doorway. ‘He couldn’t have got in through the club or the kitchen, Mr Manton, they’d have buzzed through. That means the side door. Shall I check him for a key?’
‘You do and I’ll break your arm,’ Garvald said genially.
Wall-eye took a sudden step forward, his face dark, and Manton held up a hand. ‘Leave it, Donner. He’d put you in hospital for a month and I need you around. Go back downstairs.’
Donner stood there for a moment, his single eye glaring ferociously at Garvald, then he turned on his heel and the door slammed behind him.
Manton went to a wall cabinet, opened it and took out a bottle of whisky and two glasses. He filled them both and toasted Garvald silently.
‘How did you get in, Ben?’
‘Now I ask you,’ Garvald said. ‘When did I ever need a key to open a door?’
Manton chuckled. ‘That’s true enough, God knows. You were the best door and window man in the business in the old days.’
He moved back to the desk and lit a cigarette, taking his time over it. ‘Why did you come back, Ben? There’s nothing for you here.’
‘Then why were you so anxious to keep me out? Sicking those two tearaways on to me in the fog outside Wandsworth yesterday was a mistake. Nothing on earth could have kept me away after that.’
‘Things have changed,’ Manton said. ‘It isn’t like the old days any more. The kind of money people throw around now, you can make more out of a good legitimate club than we ever did from the rackets. With the form you have behind you, Ben, you’d be bad for business. It’s as simple as that.’
‘They tell me you work for wages now, I never thought I’d see the day.’
‘If you know that, then you know who I work for,’ Manton said calmly. ‘Harry Faulkner – and he treats me just fine. I get a good basic plus a slice of the cake twice a year. More than we ever dreamed of making at the old One-Spot.’
‘When you were in partnership with me.’
Manton put down his glass and said deliberately: ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Ben. After the coppers picked you up for that Steel Amalgamated job, they shut the One-Spot up tight. It took me two years of working for Faulkner to pay off the debts. I don’t owe you a thing.’
Garvald grinned. ‘I didn’t say you did.’
Manton was unable to control his surprise. He stood behind the desk frowning suspiciously, and then, as if coming to a sudden decision, sat down, took out a bunch of keys and unlocked a drawer. ‘Oh, what the hell. So I owe you a favour.’ He produced a couple of packets of notes and threw them on to the blotter. ‘There’s five hundred there, Ben, that’s all I can manage.’
Garvald looked down at the money, a strange smile on his face, then he moved to the cabinet and poured himself another whisky. When he turned, his face was without expression.
‘No thanks, Fred.’
Manton jumped up angrily. ‘Then what do you want? Is it Bella?’
‘She is my wife, Fred.’
‘Don’t you mean was?’ Manton chuckled sourly. ‘That kind of talk’s going to get you nowhere. Bother her and Harry Faulkner will have you cut down to size so fast you won’t know what hit you.’
Garvald smiled. ‘And you telling me everything was so legitimate these days.’
Manton frowned, a puzzled expression in his eyes. ‘No, it isn’t Bella, is it? It’s the cash – the cash from that Steel Amalgamated job.’
‘Which went up like a torch with Jacky Charlton.’
‘Or did it?’ Manton said softly. ‘Maybe you’d already divvied up?’
‘An interesting thought, you must agree.’
There was a rush of footsteps in the corridor, the door was thrown open and Donner came in. He leaned on the desk, ignoring Garvald. ‘There’s a load of trouble on its way. That blasted copper, Brady.’
‘What’s he want?’
‘Our friend here. Jango’s stalling him at the bottom of the stairs, but I wouldn’t give him long.’
Manton looked at Garvald angrily. ‘What in the hell have you been up to?’
The big Irishman was already on his way to the door. ‘Search me, but I’ve got other fish to fry. Give him my respects, Fred. I’ll see myself out.’
As he disappeared along the corridor, Donner moved to go after him, but Manton caught him by the sleeve. ‘Let him go. He hasn’t been here, understand?’
He sat down behind his desk and lit a cigarette. A moment later, he heard voices in the corridor and Brady burst into the room, brushing aside a small, black-bearded man in a dinner jacket, whose black hair was close-cropped to his skull.
He stood at the side of Manton’s desk, his face swollen with passion, and spoke with a heavy Greek accent. ‘He came in through the staff entrance like a crazy man, boss,’ he said, one hand weaving an intricate pattern in front of Manton’s face. ‘When I tried to stop him coming up, he nearly broke my arm.’
‘Never mind this little squirt,’ Brady said harshly. ‘I want Ben Garvald. Where is he?’
Manton managed a frown with little difficulty. ‘Ben Garvald? You must be out of your tiny mind.’
Brady went round the desk in a rush and jerked Manton to his feet, one massive hand crushing the silken lapels of the expensive dinner jacket. ‘Don’t give me that kind of crap, Manton. I was outside in the alley. Someone let him in through your private door.’
For a second only, Manton lost control. He glanced at Donner with a frown and Brady laughed harshly. ‘I read you like a book, you pig. Now where is he?’
Manton pulled himself free and backed away. ‘I don’t know what all this is about, but I’d like to see your warrant. If you haven’t got one you’d better get to hell out of here before I call in some real law.’
‘You don’t frighten me,’ Brady said contemptuously.
‘Maybe not,’ Manton told him, ‘but Harry Faulkner will.’
But Brady had already passed over into that area where action is in command of reason. At the best of times, caution had never been one of his virtues.
He glared at Manton, his eyes bloodshot. ‘Ben Garvald’s here, I saw him come in and, by God, I’m going to find him.’
He swung round, shoved Jango to one side with a careless sweep of his arm and went into the corridor. He opened the first door on the left, switched on the light and found himself in the bathroom.
When he turned to walk out, the three men were standing in the corridor watching him. There was a slight, polite smile on Manton’s face. ‘Find anything?’
‘Maybe he thinks we flushed Garvald away,’ Donner said.
Brady ignored both remarks and opened the next door.
‘The sitting room,’ Manton said helpfully. ‘My bedroom next to it.’
Brady checked both of them without success and as he came out of the bedroom, noticed that a door at the other end of the corridor was standing slightly ajar. He moved to it quickly, pulled it open and looked down the stairs to Manton’s private entrance.
He turned, his face suffused with passion. ‘So that’s it.’
‘For Christ’s sake, boss, how long is this farce running for?’ Donner said, turning to Manton. ‘Can’t you give him a couple of fivers or something? Maybe that’s all he came for in the first place.’
A growl of anger erupted from Brady’s throat and he grabbed at Donner’s shoulder, pulling him round. All Donner’s pent-up rage and frustration surged out of him like a dam bursting.
‘You keep your bloody paws off me,’ he said viciously. He turned, catching the punch that Brady flung at him on his left shoulder and, at the same moment, moved in close, raising a knee into the unprotected groin. As Brady doubled over, the knee swung into his face, lifting him back. For a moment, the big policeman poised there in the doorway, clawing at the wall for support and then he went backwards into the dark well of the staircase.
12
As the three men stood in shocked silence, crowding the doorway, there was a slight creak behind them and Ben Garvald emerged from the linen cupboard.
‘You’re getting careless in your old age, Fred.’ He shook his head. ‘Remember the eleventh commandment? Never do a copper for it shall be returned unto you an hundred-fold.’
He brushed past them and went down the stairs. Brady was lying on his back at the bottom, legs sprawled in an unnatural position on the stairs, head and shoulders jammed against the wall. Blood matted his hair, trickling down into his eyes and his head moved slightly.
Garvald turned and looked up at Manton who had paused six or seven steps from the bottom. ‘He doesn’t look too good, Fred. I wish you joy.’
He opened the door and went out in one quick motion. As it closed, Manton pulled Jango down beside him. ‘Get after him. Lose him and I’ll have your ears.’
The door opened and closed behind the Cypriot and Manton dropped to one knee beside Brady. The policeman opened his eyes and glared up at him. There was a strange, choking sound in his throat, blood trickled from his nostrils and his head lolled to one side.
‘My God, he’s croaked,’ Donner said in a whisper.
Manton got to his feet. ‘What a bloody mess.’
‘It was an accident,’ Donner said desperately. ‘He swung at me first. You saw.’
‘I can just see a judge and jury taking my word for that,’ Manton said bitterly. ‘Be your age, Donner. You’ve killed a copper and that’s a topping job.’
Donner pointed a shaking finger at him. ‘If I go, you go. We’re in this together, make no mistake about that.’
‘You don’t need to rub it in,’ Manton said. ‘Even if those swine up at the Town Hall couldn’t find any evidence to implicate me, they’d invent some.’
‘Then we’ve got to get rid of him,’ Donner said. ‘That stands to reason. What about dumping him in the canal off Grainger’s Wharf? That’s not far away.’
‘That would make it look more like murder than ever,’ Manton said. ‘It’s got to be cleverer than that. An accident, that’s what we want. A convenient accident. Hit and run, perhaps.’
Donner nodded eagerly. ‘That’s not bad. That’s not bad at all.’
‘Especially if we used someone else’s car and dumped it later. There’s one thing, though. Who else saw him come in?’
‘Only Jango,’ Donner said. ‘Luckily it was the staff break before the main floor show. They were all in the kitchen. He kept Brady talking at the bottom of the stairs and buzzed for me.’ He hesitated. ‘There’s always Garvald.’
‘We’ll see to him later. First, we’ve got to get rid of our friend here. We’ll take him up the alley between us to Stank’s Yard, then you go and pick up a car and don’t waste any time.’
The alley was deserted and they moved through the darkness, Brady’s limp body a dead weight between them. Stank’s Yard was at the far end near the main road and the door to it from the alley was never kept locked.
It was a dark well of a place between tall warehouses due for demolition. Much used by scrap merchants, it was choked with the accumulated junk of the years. Wide gates giving access to a narrow lane leading into the main road stood permanently open.
Manton leaned against the wall, trying to shelter from the driving rain, a cigarette cupped in one hand. Strangely enough, he wasn’t afraid. Excited, if anything. In a strange way it was as if he were living again for the first time in years and he grinned ruefully. Now that would have given Ben Garvald a laugh if you like.
Someone entered the alley behind him from the main road and moved quickly along the uneven flagstones, footsteps echoing between the high brick walls. Manton stood back and waited. A moment later, Jango passed the doorway, his face clear in the dim light of the gas lamp which hung at the entrance to the alley.
