The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

was real concern in his voice. When had anyone last shown concern for her? Annie tried to remember. Ruthie had. A stab of pain wrenched at her gut as she thought of Ruthie, always leaping to her defence. God, she’d been such a bitch to her, what had the poor cow done to deserve her for a sister? She hadn’t deserved Ruthie’s kindness. And she could do without Kieron’s. But he was a friend. And she thought she could trust him. After all, he was totally indifferent to her charms.

      ‘I’ll do it as a favour to you,’ she sighed.

      ‘What a great girl you are.’

      ‘Spare me the Irish bit. I want triple wages, not double.’

      ‘A great girl and a hard one,’ groaned Kieron.

      ‘You can afford it. You’re a Delaney.’

      ‘Deal then. Come on Wednesday and we’ll make a start.’

      Annie said goodbye and put the phone down. It rang again. She picked up. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Eddie Carter’s dead,’ said a scratchy female voice.

      ‘Mum?’ Annie clutched the phone harder.

      ‘I thought you ought to know.’

      Connie sounded sober for once. Then she began to cough, which sounded vile and seemed to get worse as the seconds slowly passed by. Annie felt cold inside. She still had the horrors when she thought about that night. The day after it had been like cleaning out an abattoir. The mattress had been too bloodstained to save and they’d had to burn the whole thing. Everyone had pitched in, scrubbing and polishing, to get Darren’s room straight again. Celia had bought a new mattress. Life had gone on. But not for Eddie.

      ‘Why would I want to know?’ asked Annie, swallowing hard.

      ‘Max said it happened at Celia’s place. Not that I’m surprised. That tart mixes with all sorts. Is it true she’s vanished?’

      ‘She’s on a break,’ said Annie, feeling more loyalty to her aunt than to her own bloody mother. Her head was spinning, a million things were buzzing around her brain.

      ‘My arse. She’s legged it, hasn’t she? There’s going to be trouble over this.’

      ‘When’s the funeral?’

      ‘Friday at twelve. They’re burying him next to Queenie.’

      Annie put the phone down. Her mother was still talking but there was nothing else she wanted to hear. Max’s brother dead. Killed here, in this house. For once in her drink-sodden life, Connie was right. There was going to be trouble.

      Annie called Darren back down to the kitchen.

      ‘Eddie’s Carter’s dead,’ she said when she’d shut the door and was sure they wouldn’t be overheard.

      Darren went white. He sat down quickly at the kitchen table. Annie sat too and waited for him to gather himself.

      ‘Did you see who did it, Darren?’

      ‘Would I say if I did?’ asked Darren.

      ‘It won’t go any further.’

      They exchanged a long look. Finally Darren shook his head. ‘I wish I had. No, I don’t. What am I saying? If I’d seen the bastard’s face he’d have done me too.’ He ran his hands through his hair, leaving it stuck up on end. ‘No, I didn’t see anything. He was wearing a bowler – he had a scarf tied round his face. He was heavy-set, tallish. But more than that I couldn’t say. He just smashed me right on the nose and then carved up that poor little git while I was half out of it on the floor. You know the rest. Honest, Annie, that’s all I know. I thought I was a goner. It was horrible.’

      Annie patted his hand. She didn’t know what to say.

      ‘Will the police come?’ asked Darren anxiously.

      ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Annie. ‘No outsiders know he was attacked here, and Max Carter will keep it quiet at his end. He’ll have one of his tame doctors make out the death certificate, say Eddie died of natural causes, pay off any coppers if they get a sniff of anything iffy from the ambulance men, and that’ll be that.’

      ‘So we’re in the clear?’

      Annie shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. It was bugger-all to do with us, I just wish Celia could have realized that before she did her moonlight flit.’

      ‘Have you thought that maybe Celia didn’t go of her own free will?’ asked Darren.

      ‘Meaning?’

      ‘You know what I mean, Annie. Don’t come the innocent with me. They could have sat her down at this table and forced her to write that note, then taken her off and done God knows what to her.’

      ‘You mean the Carter mob?’ said Annie.

      ‘Who the fuck else would I mean? Come on, admit it. It’s crossed my mind and I bet it’s crossed yours.’

      He was right. But every time the suspicion of wrongdoing had entered her head, Annie had ruthlessly pushed it out again. She had to go on believing that Celia was somewhere sunning herself, safe and well.

      ‘Look, Darren,’ said Annie impatiently. ‘Fuck all this speculation. What good does it do us? We’ve got a place to run and it’s business as usual. We’re not going to have any more trouble, I’m going to get someone on the door from now on. No more open house.’

      There was a lot to get straight, and Annie was glad of the distraction. She threw the front parlour windows wide to get rid of the musty smell in there. Then she got everyone to help her clear up. The furnishings were okay, old but of good quality. There was a big table to put the food and drinks on, and in the radiogram she discovered a stash of Connie Francis and Ruby Murray LPs. She started priming their regulars with the news that there would be a monthly party on offer. She had already made up her mind that any excess food from the parties would be distributed among the neighbours, to keep them onside. Then Billy turned up unannounced at the kitchen table one day, scaring her half to death. She made a mental note to ring Redmond Delaney without delay and get some muscle sent over for the door like she’d told Darren she would.

      ‘Hello, Billy love,’ she said, after she’d recovered herself. Fuck, why did he have to creep about like he did? Couldn’t he ring an effing bell or something?

      ‘Hello Annie,’ said Billy. His long face lit up at the sight of her. He sat there clutching his briefcase on his lap, his deerstalker pulled down over his eyes. Poor bastard, she thought. The word was that the cord had got wrapped around his neck when he was born and he’d been starved of oxygen. He couldn’t help being as he was, now could he?

      So, despite the fact he’d given her a fright, she made him a cup of tea and plied him with biscuits. Celia had always made him welcome, and Annie was filling Celia’s shoes. She didn’t have Celia’s happy knack of chattering about nothing, however, so she soon made her excuses and was pleased to see him go. She got straight on the phone to Redmond. It was a call she’d been trying to avoid making, but Billy had done her a favour by making her see it was something she had to do.

      ‘Mr Delaney,’ she said respectfully. ‘I hope you’re well?’

      Annie had heard Celia making calls like this, she knew the drill.

      ‘I’m very well,’ said Redmond. Cool as ice was Redmond. You wouldn’t find him in the parlours taking advantage of the facilities. Annie wondered if he ever did it at all. He’d probably put on rubber gloves first.

      Annie proceeded to tell him about the monthly parties and that things had become a little more rough than usual lately, could he spare a man for the door?

      ‘Permanently?’ asked Redmond. She could hear that sharp brain of his ticking over, weighing up how much this would cost.

      ‘If possible,’ said Annie.

      ‘Are you going to