Fatal

8

Back in the heart of Essex, Lola Harding sat in Janine Jennings’ mansion worried sick. She’d had a sleepless night fretting about what she should do, about what she should think, and this morning she was still none the wiser.

Looking out of the bedroom window of the house, located just outside the pretty village of Wimbish, Lola groaned, the shot of rum she’d added to her morning coffee not helping. The problem was she classed herself as a close friend to both Alfie – Janine’s ex-husband – and Franny, knowing them both for as long as she could remember.

When she’d been a tom in Soho, they’d been kind and looked out for her, making sure none of the pimps gave her a hard time. And when eventually she’d turned her back on the street, becoming the proud owner of a café, Alfie, the number-one face at the time, had made it known that her café and her café alone was the only place to go. Consequently, customers flocked in, not wanting to get onto the wrong side of the irrepressible Alfie Jennings.

But time had passed and Soho had changed. Most of the faces, including Alfie, had moved away, leaving her alone. With business bad and it becoming too much to run the café, she’d closed up and the life she’d loved, had cherished, vanished overnight. It’d made her feel like there’d been a death. Loneliness had engulfed her, strangled her, and the days and weeks had been passed in her small flat, which soared high above the city, not speaking to a soul.

They’d been awful days and she’d sunk into a dark depression, but out of the blue she’d bumped into Janine at a supermarket, or rather she’d watched from one of the aisles as Janine gave the manager a tongue-lashing. It had made her laugh, reminding her that some things never changed.

Although she knew Janine well through Alfie, they’d never been particularly close, but that afternoon they’d had a cup of tea and a chat and reminisced for hours. By the end of the day a miracle happened: Janine, with her loud, coarse mouth, and her busybodying, troublemaking ways, had asked her to come and stay and she’d never looked back. Not once, and she loved Janine for that.

Despite being fraught with fights and quarrels, Alfie and Vaughn had recently moved into the house. They had come back from Spain to set up their business and Janine was allowing them to stay whilst they got back on their feet and re-established themselves as faces to be reckoned with.

But now there was trouble. Big trouble. Franny, who’d been so good for Alfie, made him grow up, had taken none of his bullshit or his womanising ways, had done what she thought Franny would never do – she’d taken his money and disappeared. Just like that.

She was supposed to have joined Alfie back in England, but instead she’d cheated him out of his money. And Lola had to admit it hurt to think that’s what Franny had done, because to her, Alfie and Fran were family, and family looked out for their own.

But the question she had to ask herself was why? Why would Franny do it?

Taking a sip of her coffee with the sun blazing through the window, Lola shook her head. She couldn’t stand to see Alfie – whom she loved like a son – so torn apart. She had to do something, somehow try to sort it out. Both Alfie and Franny were too important to her and, even though he’d told her to stay right out of it, telling her not to breathe a word to anyone, she needed to follow her instincts and do what was right.

Sliding out her phone from the pocket of her pink towelling dressing gown, Lola dialled a number. She moved across to her bed in the corner of the grey velvet room, listening to check no one was coming.

The phone rang several times before it was eventually answered by a sleepy voice.

‘Hello?’

‘Franny, it’s me, Lola.’

There was silence on the phone before Franny spoke again. ‘Hello, Lola. It’s good to hear your voice.’

‘You might not think that after I’ve said what I need to. I’ll get right down to the bones of it: I want to know what the hell’s going on. Alfie’s in a real state. His head’s all over the place. How could you do it to him? I thought you loved him. I thought you were different, and to tell you the truth, Fran, I’m shocked. I keep telling myself there must be a good explanation, a reason why you robbed him blind, but for the life of me I can’t think of one.’

Sighing, Franny quietly but firmly said, ‘Lola, I love you, you know I do, but this isn’t anything to do with you.’

Not remembering a time when she’d ever raised her voice to Franny, Lola, upset by her coldness, shrieked down the phone. ‘But that’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. It is to do with me, because I thought we were family and family don’t do this to each other. What is it? Have you met someone else? Want to set up shop on your own? Or is it some kind of payback that you’ve been planning all along?’

‘Lola, that’s not what happened. You’ve got it all wrong. Look, I’m tired, it’s the middle of the nigh—’

Franny stopped, realising what she was about to say.

Frowning, Lola asked, ‘What do you mean? You were going to say middle of the night, weren’t you? For God’s sake, Fran, tell me where you are. Are you in trouble? Is that it? Cos I know you, my Franny wouldn’t do anything like this.’

‘Lola, please, you trust me, don’t you?’

Lola sniffed, her body stiffening as she sat on the silky grey covers. ‘I did. I thought you were the most trustworthy person I ever met.’

‘I still am.’

Forcing back the tears, Lola closed her eyes. ‘Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it. At least speak to Alfie, sort this out with him before it’s too late. He’s devastated, sweetheart, and not just because he needed that money for his business deal – which thanks to you looks like it’s now going to fall through – but because he loves you. He’d never loved anyone in his life before he met you. You’ve broken his heart, not to mention mine.’

‘Lola, I have to go. I’m sorry. Just know that if there was any other way, I would’ve chosen it. Look after Alfie for me, won’t you? I hope that one day I’ll be able to explain.’

‘Franny, listen to me—’

Lola sat looking at the phone as Franny cut it off.

‘Who was that?’

She jumped, not realising anybody had come into the room. It was Alfie. His handsome face stern and suspicious.

‘No one.’

Pushing back his black hair away from his eyes, Alfie walked across to Lola. Standing over her, his six-foot-plus muscular frame dwarfing her, he said, ‘You weren’t speaking to no one, you were speaking to someone and I want to know who that someone was.’

Fidgeting with the phone, Lola smiled, assuming innocence. ‘When I say no one, I mean it was no one important. You know, one of those cold calls.’

Alfie bent down towards her, his nose inches away from Lola’s. ‘You’re lying to me. I always know when you’re lying. Don’t go behind me back, Lola, otherwise you and I are going to fall out, big time.’

Feeling guilty, Lola looked Alfie straight in the eye. ‘And why would I want to do that, hey? Listen, I know you’re having a hard time, Alfie, but there’s no need to get paranoid. Look, lovely, why don’t I make us a coffee, this one’s gone cold. I’ll make you and Vaughn a bit of breakfast, what do you say? Look, darlin’, I am so sorry that you’re hurting. I hate to see you like this.’

Alfie shook his head, feeling the shame creeping over him. ‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry; I shouldn’t take it out on you. This thing with Franny is eating me up. If only I could get to speak to her, you know?’

Lola gave a tight smile but said nothing as she continued to listen to Alfie. ‘But I guess her message is loud and clear. It’s pretty obvious how she feels, cos she won’t even answer my calls, so I’m left here not knowing what I’ve fucking done. Have you any idea what that feels like? I should’ve known though, shouldn’t I? Look at her father and Cabhan: gangsters, faces, and they taught her everything she knows. What do they say? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’

‘Alfie …’

Kicking the bedside table, Alfie glared and pointed at Lola. ‘What? You think I’m being a hypocrite? Well, I’m not, the difference is I may be all those things her father was, but I’d never screw over my own. I’m not the bad guy here for once.’

Standing up, Lola tried to calm a pacing Alfie. ‘Sweetheart, I’m sure it’ll work out. I know it hurts.’

Alfie glared. ‘Oh, it ain’t hurting me, it’s screwing me over. Fucked me financially, like I’ve got me bollocks caught in a vice, and to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t want to sort it out now even if I could.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

Alfie’s handsome face reddened. ‘Oh, I do, and if she were here right now, Lola, do you know what I’d do?… I’d fucking kill her.’

And with that, Alfie Jennings stormed out of the room, leaving Lola standing there, a deep sense of unease beginning to creep over her.

9

The hot Colorado air whirled through the prison window bars in the visitors’ room. It was empty save the two armed guards who stood by the door waiting to be relieved from their lunchtime shift. They nodded a respectful greeting, first to Officer Johnstone and then to Nico as they walked in, making sure the latter’s greeting was clearly seen by the recipient. No one wanted repercussions from a Russo.

Striding across the magnolia-and-steel-blue-painted room, and deciding that for the time being he wouldn’t mention anything about the call from Alice, Nico hugged his brother. It was the first time they’d seen each other since the accident, though they’d spoken briefly on the phone.

‘Nico, I’m so sorry for your loss. Mi si spezza il cuore. My heart breaks.’

Breaking away from the hug, Nico pushed the thought of his daughter, Ally, out of his mind. They weren’t here to talk like women. They were here to talk business. That was all, and that was the way it should be.

He’d already learnt about his daughter’s passing, so there wasn’t much to discuss. Yes, it’d been a waste of a young life. The girl was only sixteen. But that was what she was, a girl. Losing a son, well, that would’ve been different. He knew if that had happened he’d be inconsolable with grief, but a girl, there was only so much sadness he could feel. He hadn’t built his fortunes on weeping beside gravesides for the women in his life.

His father had always taught him that for the right money a man would kill his own mother. Well, he hadn’t needed money, he’d been happy to do it for free. She’d been a whore, though he could’ve forgiven her for that; in one way or another all women were whores. What he couldn’t forgive was the fact that to save her own ass, not wanting to do a stretch inside for handling dirty money, she’d ratted him, Bobby and Salvatore to the cops.

They’d all been given six years whilst she’d walked free and just got on with her life. That had been twenty years ago, but on the day he’d been released, unlike his brothers, he hadn’t gone looking for his favourite meals of passatelli and pussy, he’d gone looking for her. For his mother. And, like Johnny Milano, he had made her pay.

It’d only taken a few hours to find her, grilling peppered swordfish on a barbecue for his cousin’s engagement party, and right there and then he’d held down both of her hands on the grill bars, and when he’d got bored of listening to her screams? Well, he’d put a gun in her mouth and blown her clean away.

But of course, out of respect for his cousin’s engagement, he’d paid for another party, only bigger and better, and out of respect for Italian custom – something very important to him – he’d gone to his mother’s funeral, laying a wreath made up of white lilies and yellow roses – her favourite flowers – at her gravestone.

‘Thank you, Sal,’ he said eventually, his thoughts returning to Ally and Salvatore. ‘She would’ve made somebody a good wife. However, let’s get down to business and why you’re here.’

Salvatore nodded, taking a seat in the deserted visitors’ room. He spoke respectfully, although what he was about to say he knew was the last thing that Nico would want to hear. But what choice did he have? Franny certainly hadn’t given him one and being out of pocket by a couple of million dollars was a sting, and there’d be no hiding that. He chose his words carefully.

‘Nico, as I said when I spoke to you, we’ve a problem. There was coke in Ally’s car ready to be shipped out along the coast, but after the accident, it had to be disposed of by Cabhan.’

Salvatore stopped to stare at his brother. He could see the vein on the side of his head pulsating.

Coldly and simply, Nico said, ‘Go on.’

‘Given the circumstances, Cabhan felt it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t call the cops without them discovering what was in the car, and even if he’d never called anyone, he would’ve been stuck there and we would’ve still been out of pocket anyway. There was no way he could’ve got off that ledge without help. Maybe getting rid of the coke was the only thing he could’ve done.’

‘How much coke are we actually talking about?’

‘Just over two million dollars.’

Nico nodded again, saying nothing. Giving away nothing. His face void of emotion.

After a couple of minutes, Nico said, ‘Tell me, Salvatore, why didn’t I know about the coke before? Why hadn’t you asked my permission before you went ahead with this?’

‘I’m telling you now.’

Slowly and menacingly, Nico leant across the table to his brother. ‘Ora non è prima. Now is not before. Do I need to remind you about respect, Salvatore?’

‘Nico, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like I was disrespecting you. I meant this is the first opportunity I have had to tell you.’

‘But if the accident hadn’t happened, and you hadn’t lost all that money, you wouldn’t have told me about this shipment, huh? Maybe you’re pleased I’m in here. So you can run things without telling me, is that it, Sal?’

Sal stared at his brother. ‘No … No, of course not.’

‘Do you think this is something I should worry about? That my little brother is trying to take over the family business behind my back?’

Salvatore pleaded with his brother, kissing Nico’s hand. ‘Nico, Nico. Please, it’s not like that. Sometimes I want to get ahead. Make decisions without running them past you, because I don’t want to disturb you all the time.’

Nico’s face darkened as his voice rose. He gestured with his arm. ‘Disturb me from what, Salvatore? Does this place look like an opera house to you? Like you’re disturbing me from the opening act of La Traviata?’

‘No, Nico.’

‘No, because I’m in this fucking hellhole night and day. I was the one who took the rap, not you, but I did it for you and you repay me by going behind my back … Tell me something, Sal, should I be blaming you for the accident?’

Salvatore’s face blanched. ‘What?’

‘Ally was your niece, it was your job, whilst I was in here, to look after her like a father.’

‘I did.’

‘No, because if you had she wouldn’t be dead. Why didn’t you drive her home that night?’

‘She insisted on driving and wanted to go with Cabhan.’

Nico slammed both his fists down, his voice rising. ‘And you let her?’

‘I didn’t see it as a problem. Ally drove that car so many times …’ Salvatore trailed off.

‘So who should I be blaming, Sal, if it’s not you? Ally? Cabhan? Who?’

Under pressure, Salvatore’s eyes darted around the room. ‘Maybe … I don’t know. Perhaps there isn’t anyone to blame apart from the accident itself … Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of it, and from now on everything will be run past you as it always was.’

Though Nico’s tone was warmer, his stare was so hard and so even, Salvatore couldn’t look at him.

‘What is this? You’re going soft on me, Sal? Either pussy must be good or business must be. So good that you’re okay with losing our money …’

Reaching across the table, Nico clipped his younger brother across the side of his head, like he had done when they were kids. ‘Huh? I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve got some pussy you haven’t told me about.’

Laughing, Salvatore leant back on the plastic chair. ‘No, it’s just that there’s an answer to this problem.’

Nico’s voice was full of interest. ‘Sto ascoltando. I’m listening.’

‘Franny Doyle. Patrick’s daughter.’

Looking surprised, Nico thought back. He remembered her name, mainly from her father and how much he’d talked about her. He was as proud of her as any man would’ve been about a son. She’d been his driving force. Everything he did, he’d done for her. And Cabhan had been the same, idolising Franny as if she were his own kid. Though the couple of times he had met Franny, the only thing that stuck in his mind was that she’d been a ball-breaker with too much of a smart mouth.

‘You’re making no sense, Sal.’

‘Franny wants to compensate us for the money. Although she says that Cabhan acted with our best interests in mind, she still wants to show her respect by paying for what was lost … She’s insisting on seeing you in person.’

Nico Russo contemplated this thought and, intrigued by meeting this woman again, he answered simply, ‘Okay. When?’

‘She’s here now, Nico, with Cabhan. I’m sorry, but she gave me no choice.’

Picking a crumb of food out of his teeth, Nico looked at his brother scornfully. ‘How can a woman give you no choice?’

Humiliated, Salvatore flushed. ‘I’m sorry. What shall I tell her?’

‘Show her in. What sort of host would I be if I turned my guests away?’

10

Ten minutes later, with the prison officers having been left to stand outside on Nico’s orders, Franny and Cabhan sat opposite him. Franny spoke calmly and firmly, showing great respect towards Nico, despite feeling none. She knew that this might be their best opportunity to get Cabhan back home to England.

‘Both Cab and I are extremely saddened about Ally.’

Cabhan nodded, his expression of remorse genuine. ‘I keep going over it in my head, Nico. The car, it just—’

Nico put up his hand to stop him from saying any more. ‘No more talk of it, please. Salvatore tells me there isn’t anyone to blame, it was just an accident. Tragic things happen … Which reminds me, how is your daughter …?’ Nico paused to feign ignorance as Cabhan shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I’m sorry, her name escapes me.’

Cabhan’s voice was strained. ‘Alice. Alice Rose.’

‘Ah, that’s right … Is she well?’

‘She’s very well, thank you.’

Nico smiled, his eyes darkening. ‘Bene. Good. We need to look after our families. Hold them close. You never know when something may happen. Life’s too short, wouldn’t you agree, Cab?’

‘I would.’

There was a tense silence before Nico clapped his hands. ‘Enough of this talk. Why don’t we just get on with business?’

Giving a quick side glance to Cabhan, Franny, knowing he wanted to get this over and done with as much as she did, took Nico’s cue, her voice cold and hard. ‘Okay. So how much are we talking about, Nico? How much did you lose?’

Nico watched Franny evenly. He’d forgotten how much like an Italian goddess she looked, but that didn’t stop him having an aversion to her. Mouthy broads who thought they were men, in his experience, always came to a very bad end.

‘About two and a half million dollars.’

Franny nodded calmly, rivalling the outwardly composed Nico. ‘Which is about one point eight million pounds, but as a goodwill gesture, to show there’s no hard feelings between us, I’m willing to give you two million in British sterling, that’s as long as we can draw a line under it all.’

Nico Russo chewed down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood, his expression once again not giving away any kind of emotion as he turned to Cabhan. ‘You let women do men’s business now?’

‘It’s not for me to let her, Franny does what she wants. She is her own woman and her own boss.’

‘Then it’s a shame it wasn’t Franny who came to work for us instead of you. It seems like she’s the one with the balls. Tell me something, Franny, where did you get the money from?’

Franny gave a smile, pushing Alfie out from the back of her mind, focusing only on the matter at hand. ‘Nico, I get my money from the same place you do.’

Nico smiled back, genuine amusement in his eye. He put his hand out for Franny to shake.

‘Okay, Franny, it seems we have a deal.’

Franny held Nico’s hand as well as his stare just as hard, the Doyle strength pushing through. ‘And you’ll speak to the rest of the family about Cabhan coming home?’

‘Yes.’

‘So that’s it, we’re even?’

Nico nodded and smiled.

When Franny and Cabhan had left the visitors’ room, Salvatore turned to Nico.

‘I’ll arrange for her to transfer the money today to one of our accounts in India, and then it’s done.’

Nico’s eyes turned dark and cold. ‘No, Salvatore, it’s only just beginning. Never forget that in life there’s always somebody to blame and there’s always a way to get revenge … An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth … a daughter for a daughter. Let’s go and wish Cabhan a happy birthday with the sweet Alice Rose.’

11

Alice walked along with Sister Margaret, hardly able to contain herself. She’d spoken to Nico again and everything seemed to be under way. He’d been amazing, kind and caring, so in return what she’d done was make certain she’d said a prayer of thanks each morning in chapel for him. After all, she didn’t want to take for granted any of the angels sent her way.

The party was all set for Saturday and she had a feeling it was going to be just perfect. She couldn’t wait to see her dad’s face. She loved him so much at times she thought she was going to burst.

‘You seem distracted, Alice.’

‘No, I’m just thinking, Sister Margaret.’

‘Well, I hope your thoughts are full of godliness, Alice, rather than temptation. You know, every temptation is an opportunity to prove the Devil wrong, Alice Rose.’