voice and wondered at how people allowed themselves to be walked over like this. ‘I think that’s a given, but we have to prove the flat was being used for the purpose of prostitution, and without anyone g taken out her frustrationsed more than goiving us evidence of that, it could be argued that the girl who died had only been there that once. We need solid evidence of the flat’s usage over a period of time.’
Carmen was quiet for a few moments. ‘Talk to Mrs Brown on the ground floor, she knows more about it than anyone. She had words with the girls on more than one occasion. But you didn’t hear that from me. She was frightened off by a man and, from what I gather, after his visit she did what we all did, she turned a blind eye.’
Veronica was tired out. After another hard day watching television and grooming herself to perfection, she was bored out of her mind, and fed up with the murder that seemed to be the only thing on everyone’s mind. Even Sky News was milking it for all it was worth. Peter was like a bear with a sore arse, and she was fed up with the lot of it. So he owned the flat? Big news on the grapevine, he owned loads of properties. All he had to do was feign ignorance. As he walked into the kitchen she voiced her thoughts. ‘Why are you so bothered, Pete? All you have to say is you rented the gaff out, and what the person did with it was their business, not yours.’ As far as she was concerned, it was cut and dried.
Peter Bates looked at Veronica for long moments and saw the girl she had been, and the woman she had become. Never the sharpest knife in the drawer, she had been blessed with an innate cunning that had seen her sleep her way to a nice life. She was pampered, she was beautiful, and she was a fucking bonehead.
‘Are you having a fucking laugh, you dozy bitch? Everything I have ever done, ever bought, or ever touched will come under scrutiny. If I farted in 1978 it will be found out and reported back to me: date and venue. A young girl has been horrifically killed, and I was the one who organised the cleaning of the flat and, in doing so, I erased any evidence that might have been there. More importantly, I have landed me mate right in it, and he ain’t a person you can apologise to and guarantee a fucking friendly handshake and instant forgiveness. He’s known to be a bit temperamental when the fancy takes him. I fucked up big time, and now all I can do is try and fucking extricate meself from a potentially lethal situation. So my advice to you is keep your fucking opinions to yourself, and try to restrain your natural ability to talk absolute shite. Am I making myself clear?’
Veronica didn’t answer him. She knew that this was a turning point in their relationship. She would have to box clever for a while, he was capable of aiming her out the door without any worry. He had a lot on his plate, he was not a man who listened to reason and he was capable of taking out his aggravations on her. It was much better to retreat on this occasion, and wait until it had all died down. He was still looking at her with contempt and so she took his advice and restrained herself. Instead she went to him and looking into his eyes she said gently, ‘I’m only trying to help, baby.’
Peter laughed then, a sarcastic and disbelieving laugh that told her she was on very shaky ground. ‘Oh stop it, Veronica. You don’t give a fuck about Danielle Crosby, you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself. So save the amateur dramatics, and let me sort this out without your fucking big trap in me earhole.’
As Peter left the kitchen she heard the front doorbell go, and she stood quietly when she heard Patrick Kelly’s righthand man Danny Foster saying, ‘Hello, Peter, I was worried you might be out, what with your new job as a fucking charlady taking up all your time.’
Danny Foster was a Face, a man to respect and someone who taken out her frustrationsed more than go was seen as on the
Carmen was quiet for a few moments. ‘Talk to Mrs Brown on the ground floor, she knows more about it than anyone. She had words with the girls on more than one occasion. But you didn’t hear that from me. She was frightened off by a man and, from what I gather, after his visit she did what we all did, she turned a blind eye.’
Veronica was tired out. After another hard day watching television and grooming herself to perfection, she was bored out of her mind, and fed up with the murder that seemed to be the only thing on everyone’s mind. Even Sky News was milking it for all it was worth. Peter was like a bear with a sore arse, and she was fed up with the lot of it. So he owned the flat? Big news on the grapevine, he owned loads of properties. All he had to do was feign ignorance. As he walked into the kitchen she voiced her thoughts. ‘Why are you so bothered, Pete? All you have to say is you rented the gaff out, and what the person did with it was their business, not yours.’ As far as she was concerned, it was cut and dried.
Peter Bates looked at Veronica for long moments and saw the girl she had been, and the woman she had become. Never the sharpest knife in the drawer, she had been blessed with an innate cunning that had seen her sleep her way to a nice life. She was pampered, she was beautiful, and she was a fucking bonehead.
‘Are you having a fucking laugh, you dozy bitch? Everything I have ever done, ever bought, or ever touched will come under scrutiny. If I farted in 1978 it will be found out and reported back to me: date and venue. A young girl has been horrifically killed, and I was the one who organised the cleaning of the flat and, in doing so, I erased any evidence that might have been there. More importantly, I have landed me mate right in it, and he ain’t a person you can apologise to and guarantee a fucking friendly handshake and instant forgiveness. He’s known to be a bit temperamental when the fancy takes him. I fucked up big time, and now all I can do is try and fucking extricate meself from a potentially lethal situation. So my advice to you is keep your fucking opinions to yourself, and try to restrain your natural ability to talk absolute shite. Am I making myself clear?’
Veronica didn’t answer him. She knew that this was a turning point in their relationship. She would have to box clever for a while, he was capable of aiming her out the door without any worry. He had a lot on his plate, he was not a man who listened to reason and he was capable of taking out his aggravations on her. It was much better to retreat on this occasion, and wait until it had all died down. He was still looking at her with contempt and so she took his advice and restrained herself. Instead she went to him and looking into his eyes she said gently, ‘I’m only trying to help, baby.’
Peter laughed then, a sarcastic and disbelieving laugh that told her she was on very shaky ground. ‘Oh stop it, Veronica. You don’t give a fuck about Danielle Crosby, you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself. So save the amateur dramatics, and let me sort this out without your fucking big trap in me earhole.’
As Peter left the kitchen she heard the front doorbell go, and she stood quietly when she heard Patrick Kelly’s righthand man Danny Foster saying, ‘Hello, Peter, I was worried you might be out, what with your new job as a fucking charlady taking up all your time.’
Danny Foster was a Face, a man to respect and someone who taken out her frustrationsed more than go was seen as on the
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