Backstabber, p.7
Backstabber, page 7
Eddie Mitchell was glad Vinny had finally found love. Rumours were rife in the underworld, and Eddie was not impressed by the way Vinny had treated prostitutes back in the day. In his eyes, those poor girls were only trying to earn a crust and did not deserve to be violated and treated brutally. ‘You told your family about her yet?’
‘Little Vinny met her briefly when he popped round unexpectedly yesterday. Other than that, the only one I’ve told is Michael. Too embarrassed to tell my mum or Ava, to be honest. It’s the age gap, ain’t it? Neither will be impressed. Ava had an inkling a while back and called me a nonce-case.’ Felicity was half Vinny’s age.
About to ask Vinny if he was going to move in with Felicity, Eddie was interrupted by his sidekick, Stuart. ‘I don’t know how long you’re planning on staying, Ed. But I’m gonna have to leave soon. Just had a phone call from Frankie – Harry is playing her up big time.’
‘Today isn’t about Harry or Frankie, Stu. We are here to remember and pay our respects to the lovely Vivian Harris. For once in her life, my daughter is going to have to cope without our help. Serves her right for stabbing me in the back and getting involved with the O’Haras in the first place, eh, lad?’
Stuart sighed. Eddie had been on the Scotch today and it had a tendency to make him argumentative and arrogant. Harry had apparently smashed to pieces the new computer he had paid a lot of money for only yesterday, and Frankie was incredibly upset about it. ‘OK. I’ll give it another hour or so. Tired, I am, to be honest though, Ed.’
‘Always remember, I call the shots, Stu. It ain’t the other way round, kiddo,’ Eddie cockily reminded his employee.
Aware of Vinny smirking, Stuart said no more and stormed back inside the restaurant.
Still reeling that her granddaughter would soon be running a club that was no more than a knocking shop, Queenie Butler had just received some more shocking news. ‘Abroad! What do you mean, they’re not coming home?’
‘I got a letter from Lee, but didn’t want to tell you until after the funeral,’ Michael explained. ‘It was only a short note, he just said that he was going abroad to start afresh with Daniel. Dan must have jumped on a plane soon after the wedding fiasco, I imagine.’
‘But what about Beth? Lee’s got responsibilities, and a mortgage. He can’t leave that poor girl in the lurch.’
‘Well, he has, Mum. Between me and you, since they found out Beth couldn’t have kids, the marriage was on the rocks anyway. Drove him up the wall, she did.’
‘So where the bloody hell are they living?’
Michael shrugged. ‘The letter didn’t say, but my guess would be Spain. They’re bound to be in touch again soon. Once the dust has settled.’
‘That’s not good enough, Michael. I love my grandsons and I’m certainly not getting any younger. I want you to find them and bring them back home where they belong. You can find Roxanne as well, while you’re at it. You might have chosen to forget that poor girl is your daughter, but I bloody well haven’t. She’s fifteen years old and all alone in this world. Poor little cow must be petrified, and for all we know she might still be carrying Daniel’s baby. Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it? So best you get your head from up your arse and do something about it.’
Michael nodded dumbly. He’d been planning on dropping the Bella bombshell today as well, but the mood his mother was in, that would just have to wait.
Mehmet handed Hassan the rubber Bill Clinton face mask. His own was that of Colonel Gaddafi. Both men were broad, tall, dressed in black tracksuits and trainers, and looked terrifying enough without the masks on, let alone with them.
Mehmet and Hassan’s sister, Asli, was a professional make-up artist and she’d done a wonderful job of disguising Deniz, who was driving. She’d reinvented his face in such a way that he still looked human, but like a completely different man.
‘How far away are we?’ Hassan enquired.
‘Five minutes, if the traffic would move. We’re at a standstill. I hope there has not been an accident,’ Deniz replied.
Feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead, Hassan rubbed frantically at his mask. This was all going wrong. He could feel it in his bones.
Ava Butler tapped her father on the shoulder. ‘Nan’s got the right hump. She was none too happy when I told her about my job at the club, then Michael said something to upset her even more. They looked like they were arguing, Dad.’
Excusing himself to Eddie Mitchell, Vinny walked over to the food area. His mother was standing alone, eating a bowl of jellied eels. ‘This was one of Auntie Viv’s favourite songs, eh, Mum?’ he said jovially, referring to Teddy’s rendition of Jim Reeves’s ‘He’ll Have to Go’.
Spitting an eel bone into a piece of tissue, Queenie wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. ‘Disgusted with you, I am – and your brother. What sort of fathers are you?’
Trying to shift the focus off himself, Vinny replied. ‘Told you he’s back with Bella then, I take it? I knew you wouldn’t be pleased. But Michael’s a grown man and if Bella makes him happy, so be it.’
Queenie looked at her eldest in astonishment. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! How could he? After everything that Italian whore has done to this family. Where is the silly bastard? I’ll give him “back with Bella”!’
‘He’s outside. I’ll go get him. Sorry, Mum. I thought he’d already told you.’
‘What’s up now?’ Eddie Mitchell asked, grabbing Vinny’s arm as he went to walk past him.
‘I’ve just put me foot in it that Michael’s seeing Bella again. Best he deals with it himself now. Let him pander to my mother’s wrath and we’ll get out the way. There’s a boozer nearby. She’s proper on the warpath, me mum.’
Eddie Mitchell smirked. ‘And I thought my mob were the most dysfunctional family ever to step out of the East End of London.’
Having battled through the traffic, the Turks finally arrived at their destination.
‘I cannot park outside. There are no spaces,’ Deniz informed his partners in crime, who were seated in the back of the van.
Urging Deniz to drive past the venue, then turn the van around, Mehmet leaned across to peep out the passenger’s side window. It was dark now, so he wouldn’t be spotted. ‘There’s a shop nearby with a space on the pavement. Reverse on to that and we’ll leap out there. Make sure nobody blocks you in though, OK?’
Feeling slightly nauseous, Hassan began mumbling a prayer in his native Turkish.
Standing with a few of her and Vivvy’s old neighbours, Queenie Butler was well and truly on her soapbox. Albie was singing another of Vivian’s favourite songs, this time Engelbert Humperdinck’s ‘Please Release Me’; annoyed by the attention he was getting, Queenie was doing her utmost to redress that by slagging off her absent grandchildren. ‘I can fully understand Camila not being here as she is appearing in an important West End musical at present, but Tommy and Tara should be bloody ashamed of themselves. Spent plenty of time with Vivvy when they were young. It’s rude and so bloody wrong, that’s what it is. Selfish they are, just like their mother was.’
Their mother was Queenie’s only daughter, Brenda, who’d been an alcoholic and an embarrassment to the family in more ways than one until her untimely death. In her heart, Queenie would always love Brenda and her kids, but it annoyed her greatly that Tara, who’d recently had a baby, had never bothered visiting her grandmother. She’d even posted a lovely present for the child and not received as much as a thank you card. Both Tara and Tommy lived in Leeds now and seemed to have forgotten their nan existed.
‘Were Daniel and Lee at the church, Queen? I didn’t see them,’ Mouthy Maureen enquired.
Big Stan discreetly nudged Maureen. Rumours had been rife about the fiasco that had occurred at Daniel and Roxanne’s wedding. The Butlers had of course denied they were brother and sister, saying it was all a terrible mix-up. But Queenie wasn’t in the best of moods and Stan didn’t want to rile her further.
Treating Mouthy Maureen to a look of pure hatred, Queenie was just about to tear into the trappy tart when she heard a kerfuffle going on behind her. People were screaming and Queenie thought a fight had broken out until she spotted a man in a Bill Clinton face mask waving a machine gun. ‘What the hell! Are they armed robbers? Where’s my Vinny?’ she shrieked.
‘Get down!’ Big Stan bellowed, grabbing hold of Queenie and Maureen and shoving them to the floor. His disabled wife had attended the funeral, but he’d taken her home before coming to the wake. As he crouched behind a table, he whispered a prayer. He was thankful that if the worst happened and he didn’t make it out of this, his wife would still be around to watch their grandkids grow up.
Teddy Chapman was too wrapped up crooning Tony Bennett’s ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco’ to realize exactly what was occurring, but at the sound of the first gunshot, he dropped his microphone and literally ran for his life.
‘Billy! My Billy’s been shot,’ a woman screamed.
Waving his gun in the air, Mehmet ran over to Hassan. ‘That’s not Vinny, you fucking fool,’ he spat. Billy, the guy who’d been shot, was Fat Brenda’s son. Though he bore a passing resemblance to Vinny, he was a lot shorter.
Hassan could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he bellowed, ‘Where is Vinny Butler?’ He prodded his gun into the chest of a terrified woman. ‘Fucking answer me, otherwise this lady dies.’
When his mother screamed, Michael Butler instinctively darted towards her, positioning his body on top of hers to try to protect her. Placing his hand over her mouth, he whispered, ‘Shhhh.’ He could see his father hiding under a table, and knew Vinny had sloped off somewhere with Eddie.
‘Nan, Nan! Where are you?’ Ava cried. She was petrified, couldn’t believe what was happening.
Fearing for the life of the woman being held at gunpoint, Big Stan stood up and bravely wagged his finger at the lunatic in the mask. ‘You’ll rot in hell for this, you no good bastard.’ Seconds later, he was shot with such venom, the bullets seemed to push him backwards before he fell to the ground in a bloodied, crumpled heap.
‘Not Stan. Noooo,’ a voice shrieked.
People were sobbing and screaming. Some fled in terror; others stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move through sheer fright. The masked men had only been in the restaurant for a matter of sixty seconds, but for the terrified mourners it felt like sixty minutes.
‘Someone has to do something,’ Little Vinny spat.
‘No, Vin. Stay here,’ Sammi-Lou pleaded.
Ignoring his wife’s sound advice, Little Vinny crept towards the figure wearing the Colonel Gaddafi mask. The bloke had his back to the table Little Vinny had been sitting at.
Desperate to stop her husband from doing something daft, Sammi-Lou leapt out of her chair.
‘Don’t, Mum. Come back,’ shrieked the terrified Oliver Butler.
Little Vinny lunged at the guy and all hell seemed to break loose.
Mehmet fired a shot at the ceiling. ‘You tell Vinny Butler we’ll be back for him. This is for our brothers Ahmed and Burak,’ he shouted, before spraying the room with random gunfire.
Calum Butler screamed as he was splattered by a huge amount of blood. ‘Ollie, Ollie,’ he wept helplessly. He immediately knew his brother was dead; his face was all but obliterated by the bullet. He didn’t even look like Oliver any more.
Instinct told Calum to duck under the table, and as he did so, a man’s body fell on top of him. It was Stuart. He’d been shot too. ‘Mum! Dad!’ Calum screamed in absolute terror. Stuart was a dead weight and Calum could barely breathe, let alone move. He was crushed.
Overcome by sheer fright, and unable to breathe properly, the last thing Calum Butler heard before he lost consciousness was his dad scream out his mum’s name and a man’s voice shout, ‘They’ve gone. Call the police and an ambulance. Hurry up, for fuck’s sake!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eddie Mitchell plonked his drinks on the table. He looked extra suave today in his black Armani suit and he’d finally got around to having his hair cut yesterday. ‘The barmaid wouldn’t stop talking. She’s got the hots for me,’ he chuckled. ‘Nice-looking sort. But you know me, Vin. Only got eyes for my Gina.’
When his phone started to ring again, Vinny turned it off. ‘Me and my big mouth. It’s deffo all kicked off at the wake. Five missed calls from my mum in the space of two minutes. Michael’s probably on the warpath, searching for me as we speak. Let’s hope he don’t get his hands on a cricket bat again, eh?’ Vinny joked. When his brother had originally found out about his fling with Bella, Michael had stormed inside the Blind Beggar and taken a cricket bat to his head.
‘Did you tell Michael you’d put your foot in it?’ Eddie asked.
‘Nah. I said Mum needed to speak to him urgently. We’ll shoot back there in half an hour or so. Hopefully, he might have calmed down a bit by then.’
Every head in the place turned as the pub door crashed open and a white-faced man staggered in. ‘There’s been a shooting,’ he stammered, ‘down the road. It’s carnage out there – loads of people dead.’
Vinny leapt up. ‘What’s happened? Where?’
‘Nick’s restaurant – two masked men ran in there and started shooting. Ring the police and call some ambulances,’ he told the barmaid. ‘I’m going back there to see if I can help in any way.’
Vinny’s face turned a deathly shade of white. So did Eddie’s. Seconds later, the two of them bolted from the pub.
‘Sammi! Talk to me. Open your eyes. Please, keep awake, babe.’ Little Vinny’s tears dripped on to his wife’s cheeks as he gently cradled her head while pleading with her to speak to him. She’d said his name just now, and whispered Oliver’s, so she’d definitely been alive then. But now her eyes were shut, and as much as he pleaded, she wouldn’t open them again.
‘Move out the way. I’m a first aider,’ a female urged.
Little Vinny did as he was told. Punching the wall in frustration, he sank to his haunches, put his head in his hands and cried. He already knew Oliver was dead. His handsome first-born’s face now resembled something out of a horror movie. Nobody could have survived that, let alone a sixteen-year-old lad. As for Sammi-Lou, she’d been shot twice, in the chest and arm. This could not be happening, surely? Was it a bad dream? A fucked-up nightmare?
‘The police are here,’ a voice yelled.
‘Cover Oliver up. Put a coat over him or something. I can’t bear to look at him like that,’ Queenie wept, trying to comfort Ava at the same time. Her granddaughter was in trance-like shock, most people were. The atmosphere was completely surreal and Queenie was petrified that Vinny had also been caught up in the crossfire. She hadn’t been able to hear much with Michael lying across her as a human shield, but she’d caught enough of what the masked men had said to know they were after her eldest’s scalp in some warped form of retribution for Ahmed Zane.
‘The paramedics have arrived. Move away from the injured,’ a male voice bellowed.
Mouthy Maureen sobbed as Big Stan was covered over. He’d been a great neighbour, so kind, and Whitechapel certainly wouldn’t be the same without him. His family would be devastated, especially his poor wife, who was completely dependent on him due to her own health problems. She struggled to walk these days.
Totally beside himself, Calum Butler repeatedly smashed his forehead against the wall.
‘Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself,’ Michael said, grabbing hold of the distraught lad and wrapping his strong arms around him. Like everyone else, Michael was stunned by what had happened but was trying to hold it together for the sake of the family. He was also relieved his own children weren’t present. Camila had had an important audition for a show, thank God. And Nathan and Ellie hadn’t known Viv that well.
‘Ollie’s dead and now my mum’s gonna die. I need to be with Regan. They’ll have to let him come home now, won’t they?’ Calum gabbled, clinging on to Michael. He’d always been closer to his younger brother than he had to Oliver, but he’d still loved him a lot. Now he didn’t have an older brother any more. A disfigured corpse was all that was left of Ollie.
‘The professionals are working on your mum now. Fingers crossed, she’s gonna be OK, boy. Let’s both say a prayer for her, eh?’
‘Nah. God’s a fucking wanker. I don’t believe in him anyway.’
‘Dad! Nan, there’s Dad,’ Ava shrieked, the relief in her voice clear to hear.
Shocked at the horrific sight that greeted his eyes, Vinny scanned the room for his mum and dashed towards her, throwing his arms around her, then Ava. ‘Thank God you’re both all right. Where’s Little Vinny, and Michael? Is all the family OK?’
‘Little Vinny and Michael are, but Oliver and Sammi-Lou both got shot. He’s gone, boy. Ollie’s dead,’ Queenie sobbed. It was only recently her great-grandson had visited her in her new home. Laughing and joking, he’d been, telling her all about his college course. She couldn’t believe she’d never see him again. His life had been wiped out in front of her very eyes, in an instant.
Vinny looked at his mother as though she had lost the plot. ‘Ollie? Where is he? He can’t be dead.’
The gaff was now swarming with police and paramedics. Tears rolled down Queenie’s cheeks as she pointed towards where Oliver lay. The once-clean carpet was soaked in blood and gore. And most of the blood was her great-grandson’s.
Vinny ran over to the lifeless body of his first-born grandchild. ‘Move out the fucking way,’ he demanded.
A police officer grabbed hold of Vinny’s arm. ‘You can’t go near the victims, sir. We’re doing everything we can, as are the paramedics.’
Vinny pushed the copper out of his way. ‘I wanna see my grandson. I’ve got every right to.’
Another police officer stepped in. ‘I’m so sorry, but your grandson is a fatality. Now, can we clear this area? Move everybody outside. This is a crime scene,’ he yelled at his colleague.
