A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [171]
Fifi’s mouth and throat were so dry she couldn’t think of anything else. She knew too that even if she did hear someone outside, she couldn’t shout. But it was the prospect of another night in here which terrified her most. She was sure that rats would descend on her, sensing she couldn’t fight them off.
Chapter nineteen
Dan hesitated at the gate to Johnny Milkins’ scaffolding yard. The rain had turned the ground into a mud bath, and a half-loaded flat-bed truck stood in the centre of it.
It wasn’t the mud that deterred Dan, just the fear that if Johnny could give him the information he needed, he would feel compelled to act on it, alone and without police backup. Was he doing the right thing?
Johnny appeared in the doorway of his office at the back of the yard, his big face breaking into a welcoming grin as he saw Dan.
‘Come on in, the water’s lovely,’ he yelled out. ‘Or are you afraid of mucking up yer shiny shoes?’
Dan smiled despite his anxiety. The big man’s humour was always a tonic. He sidestepped the worst of the mud and made it to the office.
‘Just in time for a brew,’ Johnny said, slapping Dan on the back. ‘This pissing rain is buggering up my schedule. I had to send the men home. To tell the truth I was just thinking of going meself. Can’t do a sodding thing in weather like this.’
Dan took off his mackintosh and hung it on a hook on the wall. The office was really only a shed, with as much mud on the floor as outside, and piled high with papers and boxes of assorted scaffolding joints. The walls were covered in pin-up pictures, many of which had moustaches and beards added, and on the floor was what appeared to be a large quantity of ladies’ knitwear in a large open carton. Clearly something that had fallen off a lorry.
‘Been trying on women’s clothes?’ Dan joked as Johnny plugged in an electric kettle balanced on an old beer crate.
‘You caught me out,’ Johnny said. ‘Another few minutes I’d ’ave been dressed in a pink twinset. But don’t tell no one. It don’t fit me image.’
‘I won’t tell anyone if you promise you won’t tell anyone about what I’m going to ask you,’ Dan said.
‘You want me to bung you a few bob fer the rent?’ Johnny retorted. ‘Or are you trying to tell me I’m a bloody loud-mouth?’
‘Neither,’ Dan said. He sat down on a chair with a broken back. ‘It’s just I know you’ve got a mate down the nick, and I don’t want him to know about this.’
‘Something about Fifi?’ Johnny was suddenly serious. He liked Fifi, and Dan was pretty certain he’d do anything for her.
Dan nodded. ‘Well, in as much as I may have got a lead on who’s got her. But I’m scared to go to see Plod for the very reasons you brought up on Saturday.’
‘’Er dad didn’t believe me, did ’e?’ Johnny said and laughed, his huge stomach quivering.
‘No, but I do. I want to know the SP on Jack Trueman. Do you know him?’
Johnny sucked in his cheeks and looked anxious. ‘Only by his rep. He’s an evil bastard,’ he said. ‘Not the sort of geezer I’d shake ’ands wiv. Whatcha wanna know for? Someone told you ’e might ’ave Fifi?’
‘That’s about the size of it.’
Johnny shook his head slowly. It wasn’t an indication he didn’t believe it, more that he thought it unwise to take it any further. ‘Who told you that?’
‘I can’t tell you, but believe me it’s someone with their head stuck on straight and no reason to make it up.’
The kettle boiled and Johnny hurled the contents of a battered teapot out of the door, put a couple more spoons of fresh tea in it and filled it up, stirring it vigorously before answering.
‘Okay, I reckon it’s possible. John Bolton did work fer ’im some time back an’ all,’ he said, scratching his head thoughtfully. ‘But then every face on the manor ’as done summat fer ’im at some time, even me. That’s cos ’e gets is fingers in every pie. But I can’t get the connection wiv Fifi.’
‘Trueman was at the Muckles’,’ Dan said.