Bad Blood Rising Page 2

  “Come back in a few days and I’ll take out the stitches.”

  “Thanks, mate, I really appreciate this,” Karl said, draining his glass.

  “I hear you’ve got that darkie running your errands these days, that good looking one.”

  “You mean Joe?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. I always thought he had a look of a young Cassius Clay. I fancied a piece of him myself when we were inside. I would have had him too if you hadn’t been protecting him. Bloody spoil sport.”

  “Pervert,” Karl hissed mockingly. “Joe’s a handy bloke to have around.”

  “Karl, mate, take my advice. Never trust a darkie.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a racist?”

  “No, of course I’m not. I just don’t trust darkies, and neither should you.” Danny’s tone became serious as he poured them both another drink. “Anyway, how’s the fragrant Erica these days? I haven’t seen her in ages. Got her up the duff yet, or do you need some help in that department?”

  “Dirty bastard,” Karl grunted. “Erica’s as fragrant as ever thank you. And no, she’s not up the duff. Bloody miracle if she were, since I’ve had the snip.”

  “I would have thought you’d have wanted an offspring, someone to carry on your good name,” Danny smirked.

  “No thanks. Erica’s perfect and she’s going to stay perfect. No kid’s going to spoil her body. I like her just the way she is.”

  “You’re a lucky man, mate, pulling a classy bird like her.”

  “Don’t tell me you fancy her?” Karl laughed. “Turned a corner, have we?”

  “When hell freezes over. No, I just meant it was a surprise when you two got together. I expected you would take a shine to one of the slappers you handle, not the respectable daughter of a schoolteacher.”

  “Just shows how wrong you can be then, doesn’t it? Tarts are just business, Danny, a commodity, that’s all. There to make me money. Erica’s a lady.”

  “Sorry, Karl, I didn’t mean anything,” Danny blustered. “I think she’s a lovely girl and you’re a good mate. Do you want another drink before you go?”

  “No thanks, I’d better get back,” Karl said, walking towards the door.

  “It’s been good to see you again. Don’t leave it so long next time.”

  “I won’t. Thanks for your help, Danny. I owe you. Anything you want, mate, just ask.”

  “Well, it’s funny you should say that,” Danny grinned. “I’ve got a proposition you might be interested in.”

  “What kind of proposition?”

  “The kind that can make both of us a lot of money. Interested?”

  “You bet I’m interested,” Karl smirked. “Who do I have to kill?”

  Four

  David Glendenning drummed his fingers impatiently on the dashboard of his car. It was ten minutes after midnight and there was no sign of her. Canal Street was surprisingly deserted. Usually the working girls were here until the early hours, but not tonight. Too cold, he supposed as he turned up the car heater.

  “Where the hell is she?” he muttered for the hundredth time that night as he checked his rear view mirror yet again, his handsome face tense with anxiety.

  David had inherited his Nordic good looks from his Norwegian mother. With his six foot two frame, blond hair and striking pale blue eyes, he was used to the attention of women. But David chose to turn his back on normal sexual relationships, choosing instead to trawl the city’s red light district.

  It was on one of these outings in Canal Street that he had first met Paula. That had been eighteen months ago. Paula was a pretty brunette in her early twenties. She was kind and funny and, much to his surprise, intelligent too. Soon they were seeing each other two, even three times a week.

  It had come as a shock when, a few months into the relationship, Paula had announced she was pregnant and that he was the father. David had intended ending their relationship then, after all he had a wife and a son at home. He didn’t want another family, for Christ’s sake. He grimaced as he remembered the terrible arguments he had had with Paula.

  “How could you have been so stupid as to get pregnant?” he had demanded, but Paula had stood firm and had refused the abortion David had arranged. It was a relief when she agreed that the child should be adopted.

  David climbed out of the vehicle and walked over to the side alley. Sometimes girls would take their punters down there, but there was no sign of Paula. He still felt angry that Paula had gone back to work so quickly after having the child. She had started working for Karl Maddox, a small time pimp. Paula told him that having someone protecting her on the street was much safer than working alone, but then two days ago, without any explanation, she announced she was going back to work in Canal Street as an independent. David had been furious and they’d had a violent argument.

  It was then Paula had given her ultimatum.

  “Don’t be bloody daft,” he’d said. “I can’t leave my family, my home, my career. You know I love you, Paula, but…”

  “In that case,” she had sneered, “I’ll leave Leeds and you’ll never see me again. Is that what you want?”

  In the distance David heard the church bells chiming the half hour. Still there was no sign of Paula. He became irritable as he realised that perhaps she had carried out her threat to leave.

  The night’s silence was broken by the crackling of the car radio.

  “Control to all vehicles. Proceed to disturbance outside Bailey’s Nightclub. Urgent assistance required.”

  Automatically David reached for his transmitter.

  “Mike Alpha 3 attending,” he said as his vehicle roared into life. “ETA five minutes.”

  “Fuck you, Paula,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck you.”

  His vehicle sped towards the town centre, its siren wailing, its blue light flashing.

  FIVE

  It was late when Karl eventually got home. On opening the front door he was surprised to see that Erica was still up. He was even more surprised to see a small suitcase by the side of the couch. As he entered the room she rushed towards him.

  “Karl, your face,” she said with concern. “What happened?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” he said reassuringly, kissing her lightly on the lips. “Some irate punter, that’s all. What’s with the suitcase? Is there something I should know?”

  “It’s Mary. She telephoned earlier. She’s had a fall and wants me to go over to Ireland and stay with her for a few days. You don’t mind, do you, Karl?”

  “What’s up with her bloke looking after her?” he scowled, throwing himself down heavily onto the couch.

  “Liam’s started a new job working on a building site in Dublin. It’s a steady job and Mary doesn’t want him to risk losing it by coming home to look after her.”

  “Why your sister chose to elope with an Irish gypsy is beyond me.”

  “She loves him,” Erica protested, “and Liam thinks the world of Mary.”

  “I bet they’re living in a caravan on a site,” Karl said spitefully. “I don’t want you going to any gypsy campsite.”

  “They’re not in a caravan. They have a pretty cottage on the coast. Please, Karl,” she pleaded, sitting on his lap and stroking his neck. “Please say yes. I’ll only be away for a week and…”

  “A week? You can’t go for a week, I need you here. Three days. If you go at all, you go for three days, no longer.”

  “But Karl…”

  “Take it or leave it, Erica.”

  “Alright, I’ll get the early morning ferry from Liverpool,” she sighed. Erica knew from experience it was no use arguing with Karl when he had made his mind up. “Can Joe take me to the port, or should I order a taxi?”

  “I’ll get Joe to take you. I’ve got to ring him so I’ll tell him to call first thing tomorrow. Now, get me a whisky and then you better get yourself off to bed. You’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

  Left alone, Karl sipped his drink slowly, turnin
g over the night’s events in his mind. It had come as a shock when Paula had telephoned him a few days earlier demanding money. She had demanded ten thousand pounds be put into her bank account, or else.

  “Well, the silly cow won’t be telling tales now,” he grinned maliciously. “Trying to blackmail me was a very bad mistake.”

  He picked up the phone and dialled Joe’s number. Almost immediately, a familiar voice answered.

  “That you, boss?”

  “Yeah, just ringing to see how things went tonight.”

  “Everything went well. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want the stupid little cow found.”

  “Don’t worry, nobody will ever find her. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Of course you do. Sorry, Joe, it’s just…”

  “How’s your face?” Joe asked, changing the subject. “Did Danny sort you out?”

  “He put a couple of stitches in. It hurts like hell. Danny said it will leave a scar.”

  “Too bad,” Joe said sympathetically. “Let’s hope it doesn’t spoil your good looks too much, eh?”

  Both men laughed coarsely.

  “By the way, there are a couple of things I want you to do for me tomorrow. Erica’s going over to Ireland first thing to visit her sister, she’s had some sort of accident. Could you take her to Liverpool first thing?”

  “Sure boss, no problem. I’ll be there at half six.”

  “Thanks Joe, that’s a great help. If I ever get my hands on that bastard judge who took my licence, I’ll…”

  “Another six months and you’ll be back on the road,” Joe said lightly. “You said there were two things?”

  “Oh yes, I need you to call at Broughton Street and collect the takings. I’ve got some business with Danny in the morning so I won’t be able to go myself.”

  “No problem. I’ll call round to the house as soon as I get back from dropping Erica off at the port. We don’t want to put too much temptation Aggie’s way, do we? She must have three day’s takings by now.”

  “I don’t think we need worry too much about Aggie. She’s been working for me too long to try anything like that.”

  “Okay, boss,” Joe yawned. “We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

  Joe put down the receiver and lit a cigarette. He drank the last of the whisky from his glass and took it into the kitchen. He quickly rinsed the glass under the tap, dried it and placed it in the wall cupboard.

  “Time for some shut-eye,” he murmured, picking up the plastic bag off the drainer. He examined the bag’s contents. A knife with a mother of pearl handle bearing Karl’s fingerprints and a six inch blade covered in Paula’s congealed blood.

  “Insurance,” he grinned maliciously, as he carried the plastic bag into his bedroom.

  SIX

  Karl woke with the winter sun streaming into the bedroom. His head ached and his cheek was throbbing. He automatically reached out for Erica and, for a brief moment, was confused to find he was alone in the bed. Looking at the bedside clock he realised that she would have left for Ireland two hours ago. Sulkily, he went through to the kitchen to make coffee. He hated it when Erica wasn’t there. This was the last time he would allow her to visit Mary, he decided, even if the silly bitch was dying.

  Carrying his coffee cup, he went through to the lounge, a large well-furnished room with the faint smell of lavender. Yes, he admitted begrudgingly, Erica was a good housekeeper. She had been fourteen when they first met. Tall and slim with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and perfect skin, he remembered how he had stared in disbelief at her uncanny resemblance to someone he had once known.

  The telephone rang and he picked up the receiver immediately.

  “Morning, Karl,” Joe said cheerily. “Just to let you know I saw Erica safely onto the ferry. I’m on my way to Broughton Street now.”

  “Was Erica okay?”

  “She’s fine. She said she’d be back in three days. She’ll phone me when she knows the time of the return ferry.”

  “That bloody sister of hers,” Karl hissed, “more trouble than she’s worth. You get over to Aggie’s and collect the money. I’ll meet you at Danny’s later.”

  “Okay, boss,” Joe grinned. “See you there.”

  Karl’s spirits lifted as he recalled his conversation with Danny Davis the previous night. Danny wanted to sell the Pool Hall and had given him first refusal. Karl had been thinking of opening a club for a while and the old pool hall would be an ideal location. He picked up the telephone and dialled for a taxi.

  It was a ten minute journey to Danny’s. As usual, he went to the back of the building but before he had the chance to knock, the door was opened by a smiling Victor.

  “Mr Karl,” he greeted in his usual jovial manner, “boss said you’d be coming round this morning. You’re to go straight up.”

  “Thanks, Victor,” Karl said, ascending the steep stairway. The metal door at the top of the staircase was wide open and Karl walked straight into the room he had been in the previous night. Danny was wearing a black and purple silk dressing gown, and was barefoot. He was leaning over a small table with his back to him.

  “Good morning, Danny,” Karl greeted.

  Danny spun round in surprise.

  Karl could see the fine white powder below Danny’s nose and he gesticulated it was there with his finger.

  “Good to see you again, mate,” Danny grinned, pushing the powder into his nose. “Just a little something to start the day. Want some?”

  “No thanks,” Karl grimaced, screwing up his face in disgust. “I never touch the stuff.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” Danny said as he snorted the remainder of the powder. “Be with you in a sec.”

  The door at the far side of the room burst open and the young man with red hair that Karl had seen the previous night flounced into the room. He was completely naked. It didn’t faze him at all that Danny had a visitor.

  “I hope you’ve saved me some,” the boy said peevishly, walking over to Danny.

  “Get out!” Danny shouted angrily. “How dare you interrupt when I’m in a meeting.”

  “Sorry,” the boy said, reeling from the rebuke. “I only…”

  “Get out,” Danny repeated, “and get some bloody kecks on. I don’t want you prancing around looking like that.”

  The boy looked crestfallen as he picked up a pair of grey chinos off the back of a chair.

  “Do you want me to make some coffee?” he asked sheepishly.

  “Later. Now piss off.” Danny waited until the boy had left the room. “Sorry about that. Billy’s not housetrained yet. Give me a couple of minutes to get ready, and I’ll meet you downstairs for the grand tour.”

  “No rush, mate,” Karl said, making his way towards the stairs. “Erica’s gone to visit her sister in Ireland so I’m at a loose end for a few days.”

  “I’m sure you can find something, or someone to keep you entertained,” Danny grinned mischievously.

  “No, not interested. Erica’s the only one for me.”

  “Of course she is,” Danny smirked sarcastically. “By the way, Karl, I’ve something to show you that will blow your mind.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “The kind of something that can prove very useful to you in the future, mate. Very useful indeed.”

  SEVEN

  Agatha Jane Benson, or Aggie as she was called by all who knew her, was not a well woman. A combination of poor nutrition as a child, and an abundance of alcohol and cigarettes in later life had left their toll on the fifty year old. Aggie’s wispy grey hair fell loosely onto her narrow bony shoulders. Her skin, the consistency of light grey tissue paper, was heavily lined and her pale, watery blue eyes had dark shadows beneath. She had painted her thin lips bright red, more out of habit than any expectation of improving her appearance.

  Aggie made her way into the small kitchen, limping painfully, and ran the hot
water into a bowl to wash the cups left from the previous day. Then she emptied the kitchen bin and replaced the plastic bag. She’d already changed the sheets on the three beds upstairs with the help of her friend, Frieda, and left clean towels in each room. Frieda had polished the three large mirrors and cleared away the debris left on the bedside tables. All that remained for her to do was to vacuum the carpets.

  It was that morning she had received the letter from the hospital informing her that due to a cancellation, she would be able to have her hip replacement operation in one week’s time, instead of having to wait the two months she was expecting. She had been in agony with her hip for months and was excited that it was going to be put right at last, but she wasn’t relishing telling Karl she would be leaving. She knew that finding someone to take over the running of the house would not be easy at such short notice.

  Aggie had worked for Karl at the house in Broughton Street, a three-bedroomed end of terrace property, for nearly four years. The house was no different from the hundreds of other brothels up and down the country. The sitting room was clean and tidy with a light tan leather couch and two armchairs. A number of adult magazines were scattered on the small table in front of the couch and there was a television in the corner of the room, along with a video recorder. Selections of pornographic videos were on a shelf next to the television.

  Aggie loved her job managing the brothel. It was good money and she enjoyed the banter. Six girls worked at the house each day. Three started their shift at noon and worked until six in the evening. A further three girls worked from six until midnight. Each girl paid a shift rent of one hundred pounds and they were free to charge the punters whatever they could get for their services. The girls soon made up their rent and everything they made over that was theirs. Aggie was paid one hundred pounds for the day and Karl got the remaining five hundred pounds. This money was collected every couple of days by either Karl or Joe.