Cutting the Cord Page 12

  “I’m assuming you didn’t ask to see me so I could watch you eat?” Tommy smiled.

  “You brought out the food. Didn’t you expect me to eat it?” Jack returned the smile.

  “I guess I thought what you had to say to me was far more important,” returned Tommy.

  “Oh! It is! Believe me. But I hate to talk business on an empty stomach, and right now my stomach is doing all the talking, if you get my drift.” Tommy decided he liked this copper. There was an honesty about him, which was a very rare thing in his opinion.

  “In that case, eat, DCI Jack Wilde,” replied Tommy, reading the name from the ID card in the detective’s wallet containing his police badge. “I shall return when you have finished your meal.” Tommy then rose from the table and walked over to the bar area at the front of the restaurant. Jack cut into his steak again.

  As soon as the spotty youth had cleared away his plate, Tommy rejoined Jack at his table.

  “Dessert? Or has your stomach been quietened?” he asked. Jack wiped his mouth with his napkin then laid it on the table.

  “Never been a dessert man, so I guess we’d best get down to business. I’m here regarding a certain Elsie Arnold or, as you’d know her, Joyce Adams.” Tommy went to speak but Jack held up his hand to prevent him. “I have no interest in your version of events, Mr Jones, nor do I have any interest in, let’s say, your business dealings. My only interest is in catching this sorry excuse for a human being.”

  “I don’t know where—” began Tommy, but once again Jack held up his hand.

  “I believe you helped her escape that night. I believe that Elsie, Joyce, call her what you like, has some sort of hold over you, Mr Jones. I mean, why else would you let her get away?”

  “She and that so-called son of hers clobbered me one on the yacht and took off in the dinghy with my money,” protested Tommy.

  “So, you claim, Mr Jones, but the thing is I don’t believe you.”

  “I was found drifting out at sea with an almighty gash on the back of me head and the dinghy was recovered on the beach of some fishing port along the Portuguese coast. So how would I know where the lying bitch is?”

  “Because you set the whole thing up, didn’t you?”

  “And why would I do that? Eh?”

  “’Cause like I said she’s got something over you. What that is, I don’t know, neither do I care. I just want this evil woman caught.”

  “I’m sorry but I can’t help you,” said Tommy as he began to rise from his chair. Like lightening, DCI Wilde was up out of his chair and knocking Tommy back into his seat. Tommy was surprised by the swiftness of the detective, along with his actual strength and the amount of front he had to assault, him, Tommy Jones, in his own restaurant. This copper really had a hard on for Joyce, so it seemed. Jack sat back down in his chair.

  “Let me tell you a little about Elsie Arnold, Tommy. She’s a user, a liar and a murderer. She killed her own flesh and blood for no other reason than to set up the bloke she left her husband and four kids for. And why did she set him up? So she could fuck off with some other unsuspecting bloke who seemed like he could give her more. Only thing is she didn’t know he was a key IRA man. He was planning on using her to help him bomb London. But Elsie was no fool. She took the passport he’d got her and his money and headed off to sunny Spain. She thought she’d got away scot-free until a burly Irishman showed up at the bar she and Carl worked at looking for her. So now her and this Carl team up as a mother and son double-act, working their way along the coast, ripping people off. Mainly men, I might add. Then they stumble upon you, don’t they Tommy? And eureka. They think they’ve hit the jackpot. And they had until a certain Douglas Moore, a known IRA bigwig, is caught. He’s only the fella Elsie mugged off. He was only too happy to help me find her. The IRA are still looking for her, Tommy. They don’t let things like that slide. And, well, if you’re protecting her, well, what can I say?” Jack paused to let what he’d said sink in. “But, like I said, Tommy. I’m not interested in you, or Carl, or Douglas Moore and the IRA. I’m only interested in Elsie. And I will do everything in my power to catch her. So, if that means ruffling a few feathers here and there, or even turning a blind eye every now and then, I will. So, I’ll ask again. Do you know where she is?”

  Tommy hadn’t realised that Joyce was wanted by the IRA. The Irish weren’t the wisest of people to cross, never mind the ones wrapped up in all that religious shite. This put a whole new spin on things. But before he went shooting his mouth off he needed to check out a few things first. He had a lot more than this DCI Jack Wilde knew about to lose if Joyce began shouting her mouth off.

  “Just say I knew how to find Joyce. And just say she did have something on me that I’d rather not be made, shall, we say, public. How do you intend on not dragging me into this?” Jack smiled.

  “Elsie Arnold is a proven liar. A cheat and someone not to be trusted. She could say that you’ve murdered, raped, robbed, beaten and threatened half of London and no one would believe her. She’s the most hated woman in the UK, Tommy. She stuck a knife into her eldest son and left him to bleed out in a back alley so that she could run away with a man whose sole purpose in life is to blow innocent people to pieces. Do you really think that whatever she said would be taken seriously? People would just think she was trying to buy her way out of a hefty prison sentence. People want to see her hung out to dry. To face the family whose lives she’s tried so hard to ruin. No one cares about what she has to say. The press is likening her to Myra Hindley. So, I ask again, Tommy, can you help me bring her in?”

  “Let me check out a few things. See if what you say is true.”

  JANIE

  June 1980

  “I see Pathetic Pete, the pressman, is sat in his old banger across the road. What’s Murderous Mummy done now?” proclaimed Janie, as she entered the front door of the family home and made her way into the kitchen at the back of the house, where her Aunt Bea was preparing tea.

  “Oh Janie!” began Bea. “You don’t half give folk some funny names. What do you call me behind my back?” she asked. Janie helped herself to a freshly baked cookie off a tray that was cooling on the side.

  “Busy Bea, Beautiful Bea or Bossy Bea,” replied Janie. “Depending on what mood you’re in,” she added with mischief in her voice. Bea threw the tea towel she was holding at Janie.

  “Who said you could have one those cookies?”

  “Who said I couldn’t?” Janie replied in a playful manner, tossing the tea towel back at her aunt. “And you still haven’t answered my question about Elsie, have you?” Bea poured herself a cup of tea then sat down at the kitchen table. She took a sip before speaking.

  “DCI Wilde called in, about ten minutes after you and Megan left for your exams this morning. Some Moroccan villain was captured last week and he’s looking at the death penalty. He’s trying to bargain it down to a life sentence using information about your mum. He says Tommy Jones paid him to transport Elsie off his yacht and over to Morocco and to help keep her safe until he managed to get over there. But then Elsie had paid him even more to help her disappear. He says he knows what name she’s living under and where she’s living. He demanded to speak to the English policeman who’s in charge of her case. He seems to think that DCI Wilde can help get him out of this death penalty and even out of prison itself. So DCI Jack Wilde called in to let us know what was going on, on his way to the airport.” Janie had sat down opposite Bea at the table.

  “Typical Elsie,” said Janie. “Today, Megan and me officially left school. It was supposed to be our day, but NO! BLOODY ELSIE steals the limelight yet again.” Bea reached across the table and took hold of her niece’s hand and gently stroked it.

  “It’s still yours and Megan’s day, sweetheart. It’ll only be Elsie’s if you let it be. Megan will be back any minute now, then you can both go get ready for the disco tonight at the Town Hal
l and dance all your cares away. Then you can go give ‘Pathetic Pete’, as you call him, a photograph for his paper, of the pair of you, looking like you haven’t a care in the world.” Janie looked up Bea and smiled. She always seemed to know the right thing to say. She and Megan had been looking forward to tonight for so long now. It was what had got them through all those hours of revision and exams for the past month. Tonight, the Town Hall DJs would be Peter and Paul Taylor. They had been her elder brother Freddy’s best friends and had called their set up FREDDY’S FUNK MACHINE, in honour of him. Whenever they did a disco, Janie and Megan not only got in free but the twins did northern soul, mod and Motown sets for them. Janie decided there and then that there was no way she was going to allow her Murderous Mummy to spoil their long-awaited night.

  “You’re right, as always,” began Janie. “I’m not going to skulk in the shadows. That’s HER job. I’ve done nothing wrong. Tonight belongs to me and Megan.”

  “Too right it does,” shouted Megan as she closed the front door behind her. “School is officially over and I for one intend to celebrate. Now why is Pathetic Pete on our doorstep again?” she asked, as she entered the kitchen.

  “Murderous Mummy,” both Janie and Bea chorused together, then burst out laughing. Megan didn’t care what Elsie had been up to. The smile on her aunt’s and cousins’ faces was enough to let her know it wasn’t anything too serious.

  ***

  Janie and Megan were centre stage on the dance floor. A classic northern soul tune was being played and they glided and twirled effortlessly around the floor, their feet moving in time to the beat and their circle skirts spinning out, then falling with a whoosh and a slap as they suddenly stopped twirling around. A crowd had gathered on the fringes of the dance floor to watch them. As the tune faded out and another, more familiar one took its place, a few of the onlookers ventured onto the dance floor, imitating Janie and Megan’s dance steps. Both slowed down their movements in order to let them see the steps more clearly. Gradually more and more people filed onto the floor to embrace this new mode of dancing. Janie and Megan beamed across at each other, then, in unison, they began to spin around rapidly, the material of their skirts rising out at their sides, swaying, up and down, until suddenly they both halted at the same moment, causing their skirts to wrap around them in an almighty flap. Moments later the record ended. The northern soul set was over for now. As they left the dance floor, people clapped and cheered. Paul spoke over the intro of the next song.

  “That was Janie and Megan dancing along to some northern soul tunes. Now for a few chart toppers, starting with Adam and the Ants.”

  Janie and Megan made their way to bar area for a drink. As it was a sixteen and overs disco, only soft drinks were being sold. They bought two lemonades then sat down at a table away from the main area.

  “Wow, how fab was that?” remarked Janie.

  “Fantastic fab,” replied Megan. “Did you see how many people were watching us?”

  “I know. It was like something out of a film,” giggled Janie. Megan nodded in agreement.

  “That guy you like was watching you,” Janie told Megan. “The one who comes into the garage on his scooter for petrol all the time.”

  “Nooooo!” exclaimed Megan.

  “Yeessss,” came the reply from behind them. Both girls looked over their shoulders to see who was butting into their conversation, uninvited. Janie started to laugh but Megan turned a bright red. It was the guy they’d been talking about.

  “I got a good look at your knickers, too,” he remarked. Megan turned even redder. He smiled at Megan.

  “I’m David Evans, by the way, pleased to meet you.” And he offered his hand for Megan to shake. In a trance, Megan took his hand but, instead of shaking it, he bent over and kissed the back of it. Megan blushed even more. Janie held up her glass of lemonade for her.

  “You’d best take a drink of this Megan before you overheat and your cheeks explode,” she teased. But Megan didn’t care. The gorgeous guy on the scooter had just kissed the back of her hand. She was in seventh heaven. Janie stood up from the table.

  “Watch my drink, Megan, please, while I pop to the loo, will ya?” Megan just nodded, not taking her eyes off David Evans for a second.

  Janie didn’t need the loo – it was just an excuse to leave the pair of them alone – so she made her way back to the main dance area. She stood out of view of Megan but to the side of the dance floor and watched others dancing their hearts out. After a few more tunes had played, ‘Going Underground’ by The Jam blasted out from the speakers. Janie edged onto the dance floor. She and Megan loved The Jam. She began to sing along to herself as she danced along to the beat when someone whispered in her ear.

  “Thought you was a Saturday girl, working in Woolworths,” he remarked. Janie turned to see who had spoken. It was a guy who came into their local Woolworths branch, where she had a part-time job. Every Saturday, like clockwork, he came in and browsed the record section.

  “As a rule,” she replied, “I am, but tonight I’m Going Underground to join the Modern World.” Janie was using The Jam references as a reply to his use of the lyrics from the ‘Saturday’s Kids’ record by the band.

  “Touché,” he said with a smile on his face. Janie hadn’t noticed before how dark his brown eyes were. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous but there was something about him that Janie realised she quite fancied. She returned his smile then continued to dance along to the beat. As the record came to an end she found herself face to face with him.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he offered.

  “I’ve already got one, thanks. My friend Megan is watching it for me.” He smirked.

  “I think your friend Megan is more interested in watching my mate Dave than your glass of lemonade.” Janie stared at him open-mouthed. “I’m Josef Wojtaski, by the way,”

  Janie smiled at him. “No point in telling you who I am, is there?”

  Josef shook his head. “I didn’t think so,”

  Janie responded. “But I have to ask,” she continued mischievously, “are you and this Dave Evans stalkers?” He immediately started to laugh out loud. Janie thought he was better looking with a smile on his face. It was the kind of smile that lit up his entire face.

  “I can see where you’re coming from but no. Dave’s been smitten by Megan since she served him a few months back at the garage. He’s new to the area but well, I knew who you both were due to Freddy.”

  “Oh!” began Janie and started to walk off. Josef grabbed at her arm.

  “Once again, I can see where you’re coming from, but Freddy was a mate of my cousin, Gab. He’d often come round to our house with the twins. Go ask them if you don’t believe me.” Janie stared into his eyes. He looked and sounded sincere enough, but she couldn’t recall a friend called Gab. As if reading her mind, he spoke again.

  “All Gab’s friends called him Taz. As in WojTAZek.” Janie smiled. She remembered a Taz.

  “He’s hyper, dad always said.”

  “That’s our Gab. Everything must be done at double speed. His dad says he’ll meet himself coming back one of these days.” They both laughed. ‘The Queen of Clubs’ by KC and the Sunshine Band began to play.

  “Dance?” asked Josef. Janie just smiled and headed onto the dance floor.

  ***

  The girls’ Saturday shift seemed to drag on forever. Dave and Josef had walked them home after the disco last night and had asked them to join them at a nearby club that evening to see a band called UB40. They’d agreed immediately. They both liked the band’s music, but it could have been anyone playing and they’d have still accepted the offer. Bea and Harry hadn’t been keen on the idea but by lunchtime had both changed their minds after the boys had called in at the garage to introduce themselves and ask for their permission.

  Suddenly, athetic Pete the reporter sitting outside their h
ome didn’t seem to matter anymore. They were finally starting to have lives of their own.

  JACK

  May 1982

  DCI Jack Wilde tilted his head towards the morning sun to warm his face. All around him the small fishing village busied itself away. He’d first come here at the end of November 1978 after the missing dinghy from Tommy Jones’s yacht had been spotted on the beach by a local fisherman. Praia dos Olhos de Agua in the Algarve region of Portugal had since become like a second home to him. He was due to retire at the end of the year and had decided on buying a home in the area. Unfortunately, Olhos de Agua hadn’t got a suitable place for him to buy. He wanted a two-bedroomed apartment with a place to paint and sell his work. Jack had never married. He had a son, Trevor, but he’d never married his mother and she had never wanted to marry him either. Trevor was twenty-eight years old and living in Australia along with his mother. They’d never been that close as Jack was married to his job. He’d always been too wrapped up in police work to make a proper go of any relationship and he’d seen too many of his colleagues dragged through the divorce courts to want to venture down that road. Any free time he got he spent sketching and painting. Somehow, it helped clear his mind of all the atrocities he came across in his job. The clear blue waters and endless blue sky of the Algarve were far more inviting to sketch than the grey skies of Blackpool and the dirty brown North Sea. So far, he had three properties to view. One in Vilamoura marina this morning, then two in Albufeira in the afternoon. Jack glanced at his watch. It was just after 9am. The agent would be here in a few minutes. It was time to drink up and move.

  The first property in Vilamoura was a disappointment. It had all the required rooms but they were way too small. The first one he’d visited in Albufeira was no better either. He just hoped this next one was better. From the outside, it looked very promising. It was a small shop, just off the main square. At the rear of the shop was a light, spacious storeroom, ideal for using as his studio. There was also a small kitchenette and toilet set right at the back. The entrance to the apartment was reached via a door to the side of the shop. There was a small hallway, then straight ahead the staircase. Upstairs, above the shop, the only bedroom was located with a good-sized bathroom next door. At the rear of the property there was a large open-plan kitchen/dining/living room. Jack had already fallen in love with the place despite the lack of a second bedroom. The large balcony that led off from the main room had sealed the deal. The view was spectacular. It overlooked the large plaza with sea views in the distance. He stood taking in the vista when suddenly a woman walking across the open plaza caught his attention.