Ignoring that just about everyone present in the Gun Barrels was staring at him, Tom continued to the bar. Although conversation was at a normal level, the silent scrutiny of his presence was clear. A big part of him would have preferred to stay put, but after three days of being holed up in the Aurora ignoring that he was losing money hand over fist, enough was enough.
‘The usual, please, Dave.’ He leant against the bar, pulling a copy of last night’s Birmingham Evening Mail towards him.
Flicking through the paper, he stopped, a wave of fresh panic ripping through him as his eyes scanned the words:
Witness Appeal for Casino Owner’s Death
Police are urging members of the public to come forward after a road traffic incident caused the death of a motorist in Edgbaston on Tuesday night.
Len Reynold, 68, the well-known founder and owner of the Violet Orchid casino on Broad Street, was found dead at the scene after a head-on collision with a tree, yards from his home.
Investigations have uncovered that Mr Reynold swerved to avoid an oncoming vehicle travelling on the wrong side of the road, but the other driver, along with the vehicle, have so far failed to be identified. Anyone with any knowledge or who was in the area around 11 p.m. that night is asked to come forward as soon as possible.
A small trail of sweat trickled between Tom’s shoulder blades, still hardly able to comprehend that out of everyone to run off the road and kill, he’d managed to pick Len Reynold… At least there was no link to him or that bloody hire car though. And neither would there be.
But whichever way he looked at it, this had seriously ballsed his blackmail plan up and he needed to get things moving again before of all his hard work went down the shitter.
A ghost of a smile crept onto Tom’s face. Now Maynard had agreed to play ball, things would be a lot more plain sailing. Yeah, that twat knew what side his bread was buttered on and was now well aware that, thanks to extenuating circumstances, it was the only way the miserable bastard could attain what he’d been angling for all along.
Tom frowned, knowing he’d have to watch the muppet like a hawk. Regardless of what he had on Maynard from the past, he didn’t trust the arsehole as far as he could throw him. But roping Maynard into disposing of Jock Sawyer’s body had also given him another means of leverage to add to what he’d already got, so theoretically the man could say fuck all. Still, one step at a time.
‘Haven’t seen you for a few days, Tom,’ Dave said cautiously. ‘Everything all right?’
Tom snatched the pint out of Dave’s hand. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ Act normal, he reminded himself. The most important thing was to keep suspicion as far away from him as possible. Acting jumpy only accentuated everything.
‘Actually, if I’m honest, I’m having a bit of a nightmare,’ Tom added, slurping greedily from his pint. He’d already worked through how he was going to play it in here because it was invariable someone would ask. Always best to get in first. ‘There was me, thinking everything was going well, but now I’ve got bloody staffing issues.’
He tipped the rest of his pint in his mouth and handed the empty glass back to Dave, nodding towards the Carling pump for a refill. ‘My security bloke had some kind of meltdown and buggered off. Left me right in the lurch, he has.’
Dave nodded, pretending to agree. ‘What happened to him?’
Tom shrugged. ‘No bloody idea. I got back from seeing a mate the other night, only for the girls to tell me Baz had disappeared,’ he lied. ‘They reckoned something to do with family issues, but it isn’t on, is it? I’ve had to temporarily close the Aurora. How can I run a place without anyone on the door?’
Dave nodded again, not believing a word. As if anywhere worth its salt would close up because one poxy doorman walked off the job? ‘What about Jock…? Can’t he do it?’ He paused, watching Tom’s reaction. Many people in here were speculating over Jock, knowing who’d wanted to ‘speak’ with him the other night – especially as no one had seen him since. And no one more than him, being as he’d helped give the poor bastard’s name up to Stoker.
‘Jock?’ Tom said, his face somehow remaining neutral. ‘He’s another one! He’s fucked off too! If you must know, I’m hurt about it. Me and Jock went back years.’
Dave raised his eyebrows. ‘What? He just upped and left?’
‘Yeah,’ Tom muttered. ‘Left town apparently.’
‘What about his job at the Rover? Jock worked his arse off there to pay for his kids. The job at yours was a bonus.’
Tom glanced over his shoulder. Leaning forward, he dropped his voice, but not so much so that the people next to him couldn’t overhear. ‘I think he got himself in a bit of shit last week. He confided in me that he’d got pissed and said things he shouldn’t have said about someone and…’ He dropped his voice lower. ‘I think he might have done a bunk before it caught up with him.’
‘That wasn’t a Stoker was it, by any chance?’ a man next to Tom at the bar asked loudly. ‘Only there was one of them in here the other night looking for Jock…’
‘They came in here?’ Tom parroted. Shit! He knew one of the Stokers had been to the Aurora and offloaded Jock, but he didn’t know they’d come here too. This was not good and made things even bloody worse. Did this mean they’d linked it to him? If they’d come here, then they could come back. For him… But they couldn’t know he was anything to do with it – not unless Jock had blathered it out before he dropped off the twig.
‘Are you all right, mate?’ the man asked. ‘You’ve gone a funny colour.’
‘Oh, yeah I’m fine,’ Tom muttered. ‘Ate something dodgy last night. Still feel a bit rough…’
Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Damage limitation time…
With slightly shaking hands, Tom pulled a wrap of coke out of his pocket and scooped up a small amount on the end of his key, snorting it quickly.
‘Hey, you can’t do that here!’ Dave yelled.
Tom raised his hands in submission. ‘Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’ Inhaling deeply, grateful for the slight rush, he shoved the wrap back into his pocket and turned back to the man next to him. ‘Out of interest, which Stoker was it that came in here?’
The man shrugged. ‘The psycho-looking older one. He didn’t know Jock’s name, though. It was Dave who gave him that. I don’t blame Jock for legging it! I wouldn’t want that lot on my back!’
‘Yeah,’ Tom agreed, his eyes darting to Dave. Dave had opened his mouth and given Jock up? And if Dave could give Jock up, then he could easily give him up. It sounded like Seb Stoker as well. So he’d been the one who’d been to the Aurora… ‘Did… erm… did anyone happen to mention anything about me the other night?’
The man shook his head. ‘You? No, I don’t think so. All I heard mentioned was Jock and that he was at the Aurora.’
Tom’s heart lurched, a headache forming. ‘Who said he was at the Aurora?’ He glared at Dave accusingly. ‘Was that you and all?’
‘It wasn’t Dave,’ the man continued. ‘It was that silly tart with the bad hair. You know, that craggy old brass. Melanie, is it? Stoker offered her money for the info.’
Tom nodded. ‘I know who you mean. Oh well, you can’t blame her for saying stuff if the cash was being flashed about.’ But he could blame her, the stupid bitch. And Dave. This was half his fault too.
The man nodded for a refill and then grinned at Tom. ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t asked for a job at your new gaff.’
Tom nodded absently. ‘I think she might already have done,’ he lied, an idea suddenly forming. ‘I’ll have to check. My main issue is that I need a couple more men now I’ve lost Jock and Baz.’ He eyed the man. ‘You don’t happen to know of anyone do you?’
‘I know loads of fellas wanting jobs, mate, however I don’t know whether they’d want to work at a place that’s been marked by the Stoker firm!’ the man laughed. ‘Good luck with that!’
Tom scowled. Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that. Still, at least this lot thought Jock had legged it and not that he was reduced to cinders in a burnt out hire car over in Ladywood. The rest he would have to sort. And quickly.
Sitting on the edge of the bed in the room that used to be hers, Sam stared at the wall, noticing lighter patches where Blue-Tac used for attaching multiple posters had once been. The days of the Bay City Rollers and Adam Ant were long gone.
Sam remembered being pleased to have left all the trials and tribulations of adolescence behind her at the time, but now that comparatively stress-free world seemed a lot more preferable.
A few days ago, she’d had a bright future and the prize of her very own graphic design business – the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, inches from her grasp. Now it was dust – splintered fragments floating in the air.
Without any shadow of a doubt, she would have to have the planned conversation with her work about leaving – only now the reasons for her leaving were different. She wouldn’t be leaving to branch out on our own, she’d be leaving to take over her father’s business.
Since Seb Stoker had left the house after his impromptu visit, combined with the bombshell her mother had dropped, there was only one decision she could make. Well, the only one that was the right and proper, under the circumstances.
‘Can I come in?’ Gloria tapped the door, then pushed it ajar.
Sam moved along the edge of the bed so her mother could sit down.
Gloria looked at Sam’s sad face. ‘Samantha, darling, I’ve been thinking. Your father wouldn’t want you to take any of this on. You heard what he said. The last thing he wanted was for you to give up your dreams.’
Sam nodded. ‘But that was before. The additional paperwork was never drawn up putting John in charge, so I have to step up.’
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you about the solicitor’s findings earlier,’ Gloria cried. ‘It is sortable though, love. Now you’re legally head of the company, there’s nothing to stop you signing everything over to John.’
Sam bit her bottom lip. No, there wasn’t, but she couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that, in addition to what Seb Stoker had told her, there was something in the back of her mind telling her not to.
Although she’d never particularly warmed to her cousin, something alerted her not to take up the idea her mother suggested.
Sam shivered involuntarily. She couldn’t say what that something was – probably because there wasn’t a set reason – not one she could name, but a feeling. And a feeling that however much she didn’t want it to be there, it was – and it was strong.
As well as that, and although Seb hadn’t said so in as many words, she’d got the distinct impression that what he’d said contained a hidden warning. A warning about John Maynard.
Of course, if she went ahead and signed things over to John it would be the answer to everything, but she just could not shake off the doubt that if she did that, she’d be doing her father a grave injustice. And that she would not do.
‘Your father would be horrified to have left you in this position, Samantha, he really would,’ Gloria continued. ‘I urge you to seriously consider what I’ve said. You know he didn’t want you to be involved with what goes on behind the scenes either. Remember how adamant he was that you didn’t get involved with a boy from the other side of the business?’
Sam raised her eyebrows. ‘A boy?’
Gloria flapped her hand. ‘All right, but you know what I mean.’
Sam smiled, relieved to change the subject, even temporarily. ‘It’s good to see you smile again, Mum. Forget about me for a moment. How about you?’
Gloria patted her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m still taking everything in, darling. I – I don’t know what to do or how to feel and I’ve no idea how to go on without Len.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘But one thing I do know and that is he wouldn’t want us drowning in misery. I can see his face reprimanding us now!’
Sam laughed through her own tears and pulled her mother into a hug. ‘I can’t quite believe it myself either, but I’ll make sure everything is all right.’ She held her mother at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. ‘You both looked after me all my life and now it’s my turn to look after you and everything else. I’ve made my decision – I’m going to make Dad proud and run his business – warts and all. John will help.’
And he would help. She and John may have a mutual dislike for each other, but they were family and this was about the family business. Yes, this was the best way – she would keep overall control, which would quell this unnamed flicker of concern, yet she’d still be able to rely on John to bring her up to speed and assist her with learning the ropes – even if it was just in the short term until they all worked out what to do for the best moving forward.
Gloria nodded, secretly relieved over Sam’s decision. She’d dreaded the prospect of her nephew taking full control of the firm Len had worked so hard to build up from scratch, but didn’t want to foist those concerns on Samantha, thereby influencing her choice. But her main concern first and foremost now was how John would react when he learnt he wouldn’t have the role he’d expected. She suspected he would be nowhere near as amenable and helpful to Samantha as she hoped. The second concern was how Samantha would deal with the ins and outs of Len’s firm. Although Gloria knew little of it herself, she knew enough to know the prospect worried her greatly.