The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

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       19

      Jonjo was worried about Max. They were having a meet with all the boys at Queenie’s old place, as usual. They were upstairs in the unused back bedroom, all of them crammed in around the big table. As usual. But there was a difference these days. There was no Queenie coming up the stairs with trays of tea and cakes, laughing with the boys and sending her regards to their mothers. The place was stone-cold and their voices echoed through its empty rooms.

      No wonder Max had pissed off to the stockbroker belt to live, thought Jonjo. Jonjo knew that Max slept here sometimes when he’d had a heavy day, but Jonjo wouldn’t stay a night here if you paid him in gold bits. He had a flat across town where he took all his birds. Fuck this place. They had been in the process of selling it when Queenie died. At that point Max had taken it off the market. He refused to discuss getting rid of the old mausoleum now. It gave Jonjo the creeps to come here. He kept expecting his mum to appear at the door.

      They were all here. Him and Max. Jimmy Bond and Gary Tooley and Steven Taylor. Several other staunch men, all trusted lieutenants. Deaf Derek was down the bottom there, looking sullen since Jonjo had to give him a slapping over the Eddie business. Derek should have looked after Eddie better, thought Jonjo, watching the little bastard with distaste. If it hadn’t been for Max’s intervention, the little fucker would have had a lot more than a slap. Jackie Tulliver was there too, smoking his bloody horrible cigars. All the boys were neatly dressed and wearing black armbands. It was nice that they were showing respect, but Jonjo would have expected no less of them at a time like this.

      But Max. Max was as always immaculately turned out, in a black Savile Row suit, white shirt and black tie. His black vicuna coat, lined with purple silk, was laid over the back of his chair. Max’s eyes looked blank. Granted, Max had taken the brunt of Eddie’s death, he’d been on the spot when it happened. Jonjo felt bad about that, but he’d been carrying on with business while Max stayed down there in Surrey. Someone had to mind the fucking shop, didn’t they?

      And Jonjo knew he’d been doing good. The parlours were all running smoothly, the clubs were fine, all the halls and shops and arcades who paid protection to the Carters were behaving themselves and paying up promptly. There had been no insurrections, no lack of respect that would have had to be instantly cracked down on; no trouble at all. Well, some. The Maltese were always acting heavy and needing a sharp slap, but so what? Same old shit, easily dealt with.

      The dummy fiver and tenner plates he’d bought off Kyle Fox in The Grapes had been sold on to one of the Manchester mobs at a good profit. There were lots of new opportunities opening up in the West End and all the gangs were eager to get their slice of the action. The Barolli family from America had come over recently and there’d been a satisfactory meet. Constantine Barolli’s mob now paid the Carter firm three thousand sovs a quarter to keep any rough elements out of their Knightsbridge businesses.

      Rough elements like the Delaneys, for instance.

      The American mob had been very courteous to Max and Jonjo. The brothers had wined and dined Constantine Barolli and his family, and the Barollis had in turn introduced Max and Jonjo to George Raft and Judy Garland. Big stars. They were mixing with the best these days. Eddie had loved meeting all the stars, he’d been in his element. It pained Jonjo badly to know that Eddie wouldn’t get to do any of that any more.

      Jonjo watched his older brother sitting there, blank-faced. Eddie’s death had hit Max like a fucking pick handle. Max seemed to have lost his hunger for the business, maybe even for life itself. Jonjo hated to see him this way. He’d tried to brace the poor sod up, but no go.

      Now Jonjo knew he had to say something. He wasn’t the type to mess-ass about. Better to spit it out, say what he felt.

      ‘We should do something about СКАЧАТЬ