Bad Blood Rising Read online

  BAD

  BLOOD

  RISING

  Eva Carmichael

  Published by Sixth Element Publishing

  on behalf of Eva Carmichael

  Sixth Element Publishing

  Arthur Robinson House

  13-14 The Green

  Billingham TS23 1EU

  Great Britain

  Tel: +44 1642 360253

  www.6epublishing.net

  © Eva Carmichael 2019

  Available in eBook and paperback.

  Eva Carmichael asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of these works.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events and places is purely coincidental.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank you to Sixth Element Publishing for their expert help and advice in the production of this book. Thank you also to the Novel Writing Group at the Saltburn U3A, The Scriveners Writing Group at Guisborough and my three beta readers, Nicola, Amy and Niall without whose help and encouragement this book would not have been possible.

  Last, but by no means least, a big thank you to my husband Derek for supplying copious amounts of tea, coffee (and occasionally wine).

  Grateful thanks you all of you.

  PART ONE

  1990

  ONE

  Joe parked the car under the streetlamp at the top of a slight incline. This gave him a commanding view of the activity taking place in the road below. Cedar Road was well lit with streetlamps every few yards. During the day it was a busy commercial area with an array of banks and building societies. At night however, Cedar Road took on a more sinister role.

  A damp mist filled the air, and a chill wind made the November evening feel bitterly cold. From his vantage point, Joe could see Shirley with her distinctive black curly hair. Perched on a low stone wall and wearing a short skirt and purple fake fur jacket, there was no mistaking her purpose.

  A dark blue Ford pulled up at the kerb and Suzie climbed out of the car. Her long thin legs were encased in red plastic knee boots matching her plastic mini skirt. She waved at the occupant of the car as he sped off in the direction of the town. She sauntered over to Shirley and something she said made Shirley laugh out loud.

  “The girls look busy tonight, boss,” Joe said, addressing the older man sitting next to him. “That’s three punters Suzie’s had already and it isn’t nine o’clock yet.”

  Karl Maddox, the man in the front passenger seat, ignored Joe as he stared intently at the two women. “I see Paula’s not here again. What’s that stupid bitch playing at?”

  “I’ll find out,” Joe offered. “I’ll ask Shirley, she’ll know.”

  “I’ll ask her myself,” Karl snapped, winding down the car window. “Shirley, come here a sec,” he shouted.

  Shirley slipped off the wall and made her way over to the car as quickly as her four inch stiletto heels would permit.

  “Hi, boss. You okay?” she beamed, chewing furiously on peppermint gum. She bent slightly to address Karl, her sickly sweet perfume drifting through the open car window.

  “Where’s Paula? She hasn’t been on her patch for a couple of nights.”

  “Haven’t seen her,” Shirley answered without conviction. “Not since last Friday.”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me.” Karl jumped out of the car. “Where is she?” He grabbed Shirley’s hair roughly, pulling her head to one side. “I won’t ask you again.”

  “Canal Street!” She shrieked in pain. “I heard she was in Canal Street, but I haven’t seen her, honest.”

  Karl pushed her away and got back into the car.

  “Drive!” he ordered Joe. “When I find that bitch, I’ll…”

  “Sure, boss,” Joe said, starting up the engine.

  As the car pulled away, Shirley walked back over to the wall where another girl, Helen, had now arrived.

  “What’s up with Karl?” Helen asked. “He looks pissed off.”

  “He’s looking for Paula. She hasn’t been here for a few nights. I think she’s over at Canal Street.”

  “What, she’s gone independent? Karl won’t like that. Look what he did to Jenny when she tried to move on.”

  “Yes, and he’ll do the same to you if you don’t get your arse in gear and start earning,” Shirley said. She moved towards the kerb edge as a red Toyota pulled up.

  “Looking for business, love?” she asked in her huskiest voice. “Twenty quid and I’m all yours.”

  “Yeah, why not?” the driver smirked. “Get in quick.”

  Shirley climbed into the front seat of the car and the man drove off into the darkness.

  Helen walked over to Suzie who was standing at the kerb edge. “What’s Paula playing at? She must be crazy to go up Canal Street without a pimp.”

  “I know nothing,” Suzie shrugged. “I see nothing, I hear nothing, and if you take my advice, Helen, you’ll do the same.”

  Before Helen could respond, Suzie was climbing into a light coloured mini.

  Left alone on the street, Helen stamped her feet on the ground in an effort to keep warm. Her small denim jacket offered no protection from the chill wind. She lit a cigarette and began to pace up and down when the red Toyota pulled up and Shirley climbed out.

  “Bloody hell, girl, that didn’t take long,” Helen smirked as Shirley walked towards her.

  “He just wanted a jerk-off,” Shirley grinned. “Easiest twenty quid I’ll make tonight.” Both women laughed. “I don’t suppose Karl’s been back?”

  “I haven’t seen him. I think he’s gone to Canal Street looking for Paula.”

  “Well, let’s hope for her sake he doesn’t find her. Got a fag?”

  “I thought you were giving them up?”

  “I was but this bleeding gum’s useless.”

  Helen handed Shirley a cigarette and both women lapsed into silence.

  TWO

  Canal Street consisted of mostly graffiti-covered derelict buildings. It was a favourite haunt with working girls from Leeds and surrounding areas. Business was brisk as, in the main, the police allowed the girls to work unhindered.

  Two women were standing under the only working streetlamp. Joe parked his car behind a white Ford van some twenty yards away.

  “I can’t see Paula,” he said after a few minutes. “It looks like Shirley got it wrong.”

  “She’ll be here,” Karl answered, staring into the blackness. “She’ll be here, I know she will. We just have to wait.”

  “What’s the big deal with her anyway? Girls are always moving on in this game.”

  “It’s personal. Now shut the fuck up and keep looking.”

  For ten minutes they sat quietly watching as first one and then the other woman was driven away into the night. Finally a car pulled up underneath the streetlamp and Paula climbed out. She wore a short, tight-fitting black dress and pink woollen jacket. Her jaw-length auburn hair was styled in a neat bob.

  “See ya,” she grinned, giving a slight wave as the car sped away.

  Without hesitation, Karl jumped out of the car. “Stay there,” he ordered Joe. “I’ll deal with the bitch myself.” He ran towards the girl.

  Joe could see the fear on Paula’s face as she realised it was Karl approaching.

  “Keep away from me, you bastard,” she screamed, as she turned quickly and began to run up the road.

  “Get back here,” Karl bellowed. “We’ve got unfinished business.”

  He reached out to grab her but Paula was too quick. She ran down the far end of the road towards the canal, her stiletto heels echoing on the cobble
s as she ran. As Karl got closer, Paula slipped and fell hard onto her knees. Grabbing her by the hair, Karl pulled her roughly to her feet.

  “You little whore,” he screamed, punching her hard in the face. “Where is it? What have you done with it?”

  “Piss off,” she spat, almost hysterically, frantically searching in her bag. “Get your fucking hands off me or you’ll be sorry.”

  Karl brought back his clenched fist and was about to hit her again when, grasping the Stanley knife in her bag, she lashed out at him. Blood poured from the gash on his cheek. He released his grip, yelling in pain. Paula got to her feet and staggered a further ten feet before Karl caught up with her again. Still holding the knife, she attempted to lash out, but this time he was ready for her.

  Karl’s knife had a six inch blade, a mother of pearl handle and a long history of violence. He grabbed Paula by the hair and drew the sharp blade across her throat in one swift movement. There was a slight gurgling sound, just for a moment, and then silence. He released his grip and Paula’s limp body slumped onto the cobbled ground.

  “Stupid cow!” he hissed. “I warned you not to try blackmailing me but you wouldn’t listen.” He didn’t hear Joe approaching.

  “Everything alright, boss? I…” Joe inhaled deeply at the sight of Paula’s limp body. “Christ, Karl, what the fuck have you done?” He bent over her and felt for a pulse. “She’s dead. You’ve killed her.”

  Karl remained silent, staring at Paula’s lifeless body at his feet.

  “I’ll get the car,” Joe said shakily. “You wait here.” He disappeared into the darkness and returned with the car a few seconds later. “Bloody hell, are you okay, boss? Your face is bleeding.”

  “Open the boot,” Karl snarled. “Help me get the bitch in the boot. The others will be back any minute.”

  In a daze, Joe helped Karl lift Paula into the boot of the car.

  “Here,” Karl said, handing across the knife. “Get rid of this.”

  Karl got in the car but Joe remained on the pavement motionless.

  “Come on, Joe, for Christ’s sake, get in the car,” Karl urged.

  Almost reluctantly, Joe got into the car beside Karl and started the engine.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Karl was breathing heavily. “We have to get rid of her body.”

  “I can do that later.” Joe was thinking straight now. “We have to act normal. The girls are expecting to see us in Cedar Road tonight, and that’s where we must be.”

  “Don’t be bloody stupid. We have to get rid of her body, for Christ’s sake. What are we going to do about her?”

  “I’ll deal with Paula later, don’t worry. I’ll get rid of her and the knife.”

  They drove for a few minutes in silence.

  It was Joe who spoke first. “Karl, I couldn’t help hearing what you said to her. What did she do exactly?”

  “That bitch had a knife,” Karl growled, ignoring Joe’s question. “She tried to kill me, the stupid whore!”

  “I heard you mention blackmail. What was she blackmailing you with?”

  Karl turned angrily to face Joe. “You heard nothing, understand? Nothing. I don’t want you to mention this again, ever.”

  “Okay, boss, it’s none of my business.” Joe shrugged. “Here, you better take this.” He handed Karl a handkerchief. “That cut looks deep. It’s going to need a couple of stitches.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it fixed,” Karl said, dabbing at the cut. He could feel the blood trickling down his cheek and onto his neck. The two lapsed into silence.

  It was Joe who spoke first.

  “Is this the first time you’ve killed someone?”

  “It’s the first time I’ve killed a woman. The bloody bitch deserved it.” He took out a cigarette, lit it and held it to his mouth with a trembling hand.

  Twenty minutes later Joe parked the car in Cedar Road in the same spot they’d been a couple of hours earlier. All three women were now sitting on the wall smoking.

  “I’ll get the money and tell the girls to call it a night. Okay?”

  Karl nodded as Joe got out of the car and approached the women.

  “Did you find Paula?” Shirley asked, stamping out a cigarette on the ground.

  “No, there was no sign of her in Canal Street. We’ve had a drive round but couldn’t find her.”

  “She’s probably gone off with her boyfriend,” Shirley grinned. “She said she’d be giving up this game soon and settling down with him. I thought she would have come to say goodbye first though.”

  “I didn’t know Paula had a boyfriend. Who is he?”

  “She didn’t say,” Shirley lied. “She just said he was going to take her away from all this shit.”

  “Well, let’s hope she gets her happy ever after,” Joe grinned. “Anyway, it’s getting late so hand over your cash and you can all go home to your nice warm beds.”

  After a few minutes Joe returned to the car and handed Karl the money he’d collected.

  “Thanks,” Karl said, placing it in his wallet. “Did they mention anything about us being away?”

  “No, I told them we couldn’t find Paula. Shirley thinks she’s done a bunk with some boyfriend.”

  “Good, let them think that. Now I want you to take me to Danny’s Place. I’ll see Doc. He’ll fix me up.”

  THREE

  Danny’s Pool Hall was a large, two-storey red brick building with dark blue double doors to the front. It had once been a public house, then a private cinema for gentlemen and it was now a pool and snooker hall. In reality, it was a front for drug dealing, handling stolen goods and a hideout for people who were of interest to the police. It was owned by Danny Davis who had inherited it from his father a couple of years earlier.

  The building stood back from the road with a large area to the front and side designated for parking. A small, private car park was at the rear of the building. It was here that Joe parked the car and watched as Karl climbed the three steps to the private entrance. It was opened immediately by a giant of a man wearing a dark blue suit, the jacket of which pulled tight across his bulky frame. The trousers, bearing a smart razor pleat, were an inch or so too short, revealing bright red socks.

  “Mr Karl,” he greeted in a thick east European accent, his large doughy face creasing into a broad, welcoming smile.

  “Good to see you again, Victor.” Karl smiled.

  “Your face, Mr Karl, it’s bleeding,” Victor said with concern.

  “Oh it’s nothing,” Karl said as he dabbed at his cheek with the bloodstained handkerchief. “Is Danny here, Victor? I need his help.”

  “Sure, the boss is upstairs. I take you.”

  Karl followed Victor up the steep, narrow staircase. At the top of the stairs was a large metal door. Victor knocked and after a few seconds a peephole at eye level slid open.

  “Mr Karl to see Danny,” Victor snapped. “Hurry up, fool. Open the door.”

  Karl could hear bolts being slid back on the other side and it was eventually opened by a surly looking man of about twenty. The young man was just over five foot tall, slim, and with a crop of bright red hair. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “There’s Mr Karl to see you, boss,” Victor beamed, addressing the man lounging on a couch.

  Danny Davis was in his mid-forties, short and stocky, with a grey goatee beard and hazel eyes.

  “Karl,” greeted Danny, walking towards him, arms outstretched. “Long time no see. What the hell’s happened to your face? Don’t tell me Erica did that?”

  “No, it wasn’t Erica, just a pissed off punter. Can you sort it, mate?”

  “Sure I can. I’m the Doc, remember? Sit down and I’ll get my bag.”

  Karl sat on the brown leather armchair, the only chair that wasn’t covered in clutter.

  “So, how’ve you been?” Karl asked. “I haven’t seen you since…”

  “Since I came out of the nick? I keep a low profile these days, ma
te. Just the odd job here and there, for old time’s sake, if you know what I mean?”

  “You were the best there was,” Karl said. “Better than those fucking so called doctors they had in there.”

  “That’s because I didn’t ask questions,” Danny grinned. “The British Army taught me that.”

  “Well, I’m just grateful that you’re still…”

  Danny had had his back to Karl as he rummaged through his medic bag. Slowly he turned to face him.

  “Sorry, mate, but this is going to sting,” he said as he dabbed Karl’s face with antiseptic.

  “Christ!” Karl shrieked. “That fucking hurts!”

  “Don’t be such a wuss. That didn’t hurt, but this will!” He produced a curved needle and nylon thread. Expertly, he began to stitch the wound on his friend’s face, ignoring Karl’s profanities.

  “There,” he said at last. “It’s done. You can stop crying now. Tell me, what would the patient prefer, some sweeties or a large malt whisky?”

  “Fuck you!” grunted Karl. “Will it scar?”

  “Of course it will scar. You’ve got a deep three inch cut there, mate. What was it, a Stanley knife?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Karl murmured, carefully examining his reflection in the mirror.

  Karl was a little over six foot and in his mid-thirties. His broad forehead and square chin gave him a handsome, if somewhat rugged, appearance. His eyes were brown and his thick dark hair was worn just below the collar. His twice weekly visit to the local boxing gym helped keep his muscular frame taut. He frowned at his image. The wound to his left cheek looked red and swollen with nylon wires sticking out along the sides. It felt hot and sore.

  “That fucking bitch,” he hissed.

  “Here you are,” said Danny, handing Karl a large whisky. “You get this down you, mate, and I’ll cover it up. You don’t want to get an infection.”

  Karl took the glass and sipped the whisky as Danny taped the gauze dressing over the wound.