The Cover Up: A gripping crime thriller for 2018. Marnie Riches

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СКАЧАТЬ thrust the case into Gloria’s hands. ‘I want a quick word,’ she said, waving her business partner back into the house.

      ‘What’s with the leather and the Roller? Who you trying to impress?’ Gloria asked, kicking off her chunky-heeled shoes and padding in her stockinged feet towards the kitchen. The straps had left an indent in her swollen ankles. ‘Take your trainers off, She! If the no-shoes rule’s good enough for you, it’s darn well good enough for me.’ She peered up the stairs towards the landing. ‘Leviticus! Shake a leg! You’d better be dressed and baby Jay better be ready to roll. Whoever is slack in his work is a brother to him who destroys – Proverbs 18:9!’

      Her words were met with a groan and something muffled in the long-suffering tone normally used by teenagers. Sheila stifled a smile. Remembered that she was here on business.

      ‘What’s in this case?’ Gloria asked, grunting as she heaved it onto the laminated surface of the kitchen worktop. ‘Your make-up?’

      Ignoring the comment, Sheila strode over and clicked the locks open, revealing the contents of the red velvet interior.

      ‘A shotgun?’ Gloria took a step back, clasping her work-worn hand to her chest.

      As Sheila waited for the surprise to sink in, Gloria approached the case again, gingerly lifting the box of cartridges from its recess. Frowning, holding the box at a distance, as though it might explode in her face.

      ‘It’s for you,’ Sheila said. ‘A gift.’

      Her business partner turned to her, shaking her head in protest but surreptitiously stretching an arm back to run her fingers over the beautiful polished wood of the stock. ‘I’m a practising Christian, Sheila O’Brien. Why on earth would you give me an implement of violence?’

      ‘What do you think they fought the Crusades with?’ Sheila asked. ‘Charm? B.O.?’

      ‘The power of the Lord!’ Gloria said.

      ‘And weapons.’ Sheila marched up to the case, pushing Gloria aside. She lifted the shotgun out. Presented it to Jesus’ favourite sunbeam. ‘Hold it. See how it feels.’

      Shaking her head yet again, Gloria took her gift. A glimmer of a smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. ‘It’s very heavy.’ She dropped and raised the gun like barbells, hoisted it to her shoulder and peered down the barrel at Sheila. ‘Ka-pow!’

      Steeling herself not to flinch, Sheila prayed that Gloria would play ball. ‘I need you, Glo. Paddy sent a load of boys in to do a woman’s job. I’ve got junkies pretending to run a drugs enterprise that’s worth millions a year. They’re hopeless and smoke most of the product. They wouldn’t know discipline or staffing structures if they came along and shagged them up the arse with a flip chart.’

      ‘Oh, Sheila! Language! If you please!’ Gloria winced.

      Keep going, She. She’s buckling. ‘Your Lev is the most intelligent out of all of them put together. They’re not trustworthy. Someone’s shooting their mouth off to a rival gang in Birmingham. Frank’s overrun with them in the club. And now I think about it, I’m not queuing up to give eighty per cent of my hard-earned cash to some out-of-towner who thinks I should step aside, just because I’ve got a vagina instead of a shrivelled little cock.’ She wiggled her little finger for emphasis.

      ‘Sheila O’Brien! You’re terrible!’ Gloria snorted. ‘Why should I get involved with that side, though? We don’t have any agreement about Paddy’s old affairs. That’s sinners’ business.’

      ‘Ten percent if you take the job as my manager. If Christians weren’t supposed to earn money, Jesus wouldn’t have put zeros in “holy” and “godly”.’

      ‘That makes no sense. Fifteen.’

      ‘Done.’ Sheila grinned broadly. Knew she would get reliable old Gloria onside in the end. Even a Bible-basher like her had a price. Everyone had a price and Gloria’s was significantly cheaper than Bancroft’s.

      ‘What did you say about rivals in Birmingham?’ A man’s voice.

      Sheila looked over to the threshold of the kitchen and saw Lev leaning against the door frame with Jay on his hip. The child still had a bandaged head after the brain surgeon in Baltimore had removed his tumour. Size of an orange, Gloria had said. But now he was smiling and poking at the lightning bolt shaved into Lev’s stubbled scalp. His honey-coloured skin was lighter than Lev’s mixed-race-mocha, thanks to his white mother, Tiffany. But the little boy’s beautiful, symmetrical features and the promise of high cheekbones once the baby-chub had gone were surely down to his father. Small wonder that Mia Margulies had had the hots for Leviticus Bell, Sheila mused. ‘I’ve got trouble with Brummies and there’s an internal leak. You seen anything out of place at the cannabis farm?’

      Lev nodded, advancing into the kitchen. Ignoring his mother, who was rummaging in a broom cupboard for something or other. Gazing suspiciously at the shotgun on the worktop. ‘That’s not loaded, is it? I can’t be having no guns in the house with my boy.’ Little Jay stretched out towards the weapon but Lev pulled him gently back to hold him close against his body. ‘Not for Jay-Jay,’ he told the child. ‘Dangerous.’

      Sheila was touched by the fatherly love she could see in his concerned frown and ensuing smile. She wondered if Gloria had ever shown Lev that much affection. Couldn’t remember her having done so when she had brought him to her house as a boy during the school holidays. ‘It’s your mam’s. She’s your new boss.’ The smile slid from Lev’s face. ‘My manager. She’s going to whip those little pillocks into shape. And I’m expecting you to be behind her every step of the way. None of that Boddlington crap. Your loyalty now is to the O’Briens. And I’m watching you, Leviticus Bell.’

      Scowling now, Lev yanked open a cupboard and took out some biscuits. Bit on one angrily and gave one to Jay to chew on. Slammed the cupboard door shut with some force. ‘I couldn’t work for Tariq and Jonny if I wanted, thanks to you and all the bullshit you stoked up.’

      ‘Need I remind you why your son’s on the mend?’ She knew it was a low comment but Sheila realised she was done for, the moment she allowed insubordination to creep in.

      Lev blinked hard, a mouth full of biscuit. He chewed noisily, as if contemplating her sucker punch. Mouth open. Not so hot.

      ‘Degsy’s got a lad from Birmingham working in the weed farm,’ he said, shoving his tongue beneath his top lip.

      ‘You what?’

      ‘Yeah. Kevin. Brummie Kev. We both used to work for Scots Mavis, twocking cars for her cut-and-shut business. He’s been knocking around Manchester for years, has Kev. On and off, like.’

      ‘What’s he doing, working for me?’

      Lev shrugged. ‘Ask Degsy. He’s the one give him a job. Said he was short-staffed after all what went on in the spring.’

      Sheila narrowed her eyes. Took a step towards Lev and scrutinised his blemish-free face. ‘What’s he like, this Kevin? Do you trust him?’

      Laughing, Lev threw his head back and closed his eyes. The thick cords of muscle in his neck bulged. ‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? He’s a fucking criminal. He’d steal the pennies off a dead man’s eyes! And he’s got no loyalty to you.’

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ