Queens of Crime: 3-Book Thriller Collection. Kimberley Chambers

today. New people have taken it over and it’s got one of them jukeboxes in there. I wouldn’t swing him around too much. Three iced cakes the greedy little sod has eaten and he’s bound to be Tom Dick at some point,’ Vivian explained.

      Not wanting sick over his brand-new shirt, Vinny sat Lenny on a chair. ‘So, what do you think of the décor, Auntie Viv? You haven’t seen the leather chairs and sofas yet, have you?’

      Vivian grinned. She loved her nephews. Unlike a lot of young men these days, Vinny and Roy had impeccable manners. They still referred to her as ‘Auntie’ and probably always would. Viv sat down on one of the burgundy sofas and stroked the quality leather. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful, boys. Looks like a palace now, eh, Queenie?’

      Queenie felt as proud as a peacock as she nodded her head in agreement.

      Roy stood up. ‘I’ll get you and Auntie Viv a glass of sherry,’ he said, gesturing for Vinny to follow him.

      ‘What’s up?’ Vinny asked.

      ‘Why don’t we tell her now? Seems as good a time as any,’ Roy whispered, when his brother joined him behind the bar.

      ‘Nah. Not in front of Champ,’ Vinny replied.

      ‘Well, we gotta tell her soon. I hate seeing Dad take the piss out of her like this. He’s such a bastard.’

      Vinny nodded in agreement. Breaking the bad news to his mother was not going to be easy, but it had to be done. ‘We’ll find a way to tell her in the next couple of days. And don’t worry about Dad. That treacherous piece of shit will be dealt with, I promise.’

      Noticing the dangerous glint in his brother’s eyes that he had seen many times before, Roy felt his stomach knotting. ‘What do you mean by dealt with? I know he’s a prick, Vin, but we can’t do anything bad to him, he’s still our dad.’

      Leaning towards his brother’s ear, Vinny spoke loudly and clearly. ‘I wouldn’t care if he was the King of England. Nobody makes a fool out of our mum and I mean fucking nobody. Our dad will pay for the liberty he has taken. Trust me on that one.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      Albie Butler lit up a Salem cigarette and sighed blissfully as the nicotine hit the back of his throat. There was nothing more pleasurable than a fag after getting your end away, unless you counted the first drag of the morning.

      Judy Preston was a twenty-five-year-old mother of one. Her son Mark had just turned three and instead of marrying her like any decent man would have, Mark’s father had dumped Judy on learning she was pregnant.

      Judy knew she was gossiped about and frowned upon in the street where she lived. Her neighbours were all older than she was and Judy knew they thought it disgusting that she had given birth out of wedlock. Judy didn’t care about their narrow-mindedness. Her mum helped her bring up Mark and nobody would dare say anything to her face for fear of retribution from her brother, Johnny.

      Having an older sibling who just happened to be a face certainly had its benefits, and when her relationship with Albie did become common knowledge, Judy knew she would get little grief from his family thanks to who her brother was.

      When Judy made another grab for his already over-worked pecker, Albie Butler leapt out of the bed. Judy Preston was by far the prettiest of the half a dozen or so lassies he’d had flings with since marrying Queenie, but the look on Vinny and Roy’s faces yesterday evening when he had popped in the snooker club told Albie that they knew he was at it again. If they told Queenie she would chop his bollocks off and feed them to next door’s dog and that wasn’t a chance Albie was willing to take.

      ‘I’m really sorry, Judy, but I think we’re gonna have to call it a day. My boys are onto us and I can’t risk her indoors finding out. I love you, you know that, but all good things must come to an end,’ Albie said regretfully.

      Judy stared at Albie with her mouth wide open. Did he honestly think he could come round for one last bunk-up and then casually dump her like a bag of old rubbish? Because if he did, he had another bloody think coming. Thankful that she had kept the news she had known for the past six weeks to herself, Judy grinned. ‘I’m afraid walking away from me isn’t an option, Albie. I’m pregnant and it’s yours!’

      Vinny poured himself a Scotch on the rocks and sat down in his office. Roy had begged him not to rough up their dad and in the end Vinny had reluctantly agreed. Tomorrow, he was taking his family out for lunch and that was when he planned to expose his father’s infidelity. His mother was no shrinking violet and Vinny was sure that once she knew what his arsehole of a father had been up to, she would batter him to Bow and back herself.

      Smiling at the thought of his mother smashing her frying pan around his father’s head, Vinny stared at the picture of her that sat proudly on his desk. She and Vivian were side by side on a sofa holding Brenda. It had been taken over a decade ago when his sister was just a baby. His mother and Viv looked more like twins than sisters, and Vinny couldn’t help but notice how much they had aged since. Both still dressed smartly and had beautiful smiles, but the wrinkles they now sported told a story of the hardship they’d endured throughout their lives.

      Vinny had been a mummy’s boy for as long as he could remember. His dad had been, and still was, a two-bob con merchant and had never really been there for him and his siblings. He earned his beer money by selling cheap imported booze and fags and had never had a proper job in his life. Vinny’s mum had. She had two cleaning jobs for years just to put food in her children’s mouths and had only given up work last year when Vinny had insisted that he was now wealthy enough to support her.

      Remembering how elated his mother had been when she had told both of the petulant rich women she worked for to shove their jobs up their arses, Vinny grinned and stared at the photo of himself standing in the middle of his two brothers. All three of them had inherited their father’s jet-black hair and green eyes, and when stood together, they made a striking-looking trio.

      At six foot two, Vinny was taller than Roy and Michael, but only by an inch or so. Both he and Roy wore their hair slicked back with Brylcreem and they often got mistaken for Italians. Vinny found that a big compliment, as he knew that in their expensive suits, accompanied with their swagger, he and Roy could pass for members of the Mafia. Michael wouldn’t though. He was a Mod and the only suit he ever wore was a tonic one. Tomorrow was Michael’s sixteenth birthday and Vinny and Roy had clubbed together to buy him the moped he had been harping on about for months. His brother had no idea of the surprise coming his way and Vinny couldn’t wait to see his face when he got it. Shame his birthday would be spoilt by learning his father was an untrustworthy piece of shit, Vinny thought sadly. It couldn’t be helped though. Harbouring the truth from his mother had left Vinny with a guilty taste in his mouth.

      Vinny sighed. He had always been under the impression that there was no love lost between his parents. They rarely slept in the same bed. His drunken father usually crashed on the sofa. However, his mum was still bound to feel aggrieved, which was why Vinny had decided to wait until after Michael’s birthday lunch to tell her the sordid truth. Michael would still have a top day, whatever happened. At least his moped would soften the blow.

      Hearing the doorbell sound, Vinny took the envelope out of the drawer and went downstairs. It cost him eighty quid a month to keep the Old Bill off his back, but it was worth every penny. ‘There you go, George,’ he said, handing the envelope to the Chief Inspector.

      ‘Any chance of a brandy to warm the cockles? Bleedin’ taters it is,’ George said.

      Vinny led him inside and poured him a drink.

      ‘So, how’s it going?’ George asked, before knocking it back in one and holding out his glass for an immediate refill.

      ‘So-so. It’s like any other business, George. Some weeks are busy, some quiet. It’s been dead the past couple, but I suppose it would be with Christmas creeping up on us. People have no spare pennies this time of year, do they?’ Vinny said, in his most sincere voice. He wasn’t