special.’
‘Were at the time,’ Jeannie said succinctly and sipped from her tea. ‘Where I come from we return favours best we can.’
‘I take it your bloke got the body took away.’ Having received a nod Tilly muttered with a frown, ‘How d’you persuade him to get involved in something as bad as that?’
‘Usual way,’ Jeannie returned dryly.
Tilly chuckled until her cuts smarted.
‘We was sweethearts way back, when we was little more’n school kids,’ Jeannie explained. ‘Then I chose the wrong bloke and married Gordon Robertson instead of Johnny. Regretted it ever since. Johnny seemed a rough handful and Gordon seemed a charmer, but he turned nasty early on. By then Johnny had gone away. I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years when we run into each other and hooked up again. Lucky it was that he never married.’
‘Sounds like he never got over you. You must have him right round yer finger for him to do what he done that night.’
‘Nah; weren’t nuthin’ for someone like him. Getting corpses shifted … just another day at the office for Johnny Blake.’
‘You know what it’s like to take a beating, don’t you,’ Tilly stated quietly.
Without a word Jeannie took off her smart jacket and opened her silk blouse. She moved her camisole aside exposing a breast … or what remained of it.
Tilly stared at the shrivelled scarlet skin and then raised sorrowful eyes to Jeannie.
‘Me husband. Used an iron on me. Reckoned I’d been flirting … showin’ off me tits.’ She buttoned herself up again. ‘I’d took it all up till then. Left with the boys the same day though I was fainting in pain. Kept going though till I got here.’ She finished her tea and put the cup down on the table. ‘Fuckin’ good job actually that Johnny’s an arse man.’
‘So you can’t suggest where your husband is or what might have happened to him in his absence?’
‘Already said, ain’t I, he’d left me. We’re separated. Don’t know nuthin’ about what he gets up to no more. Don’t care neither. You can ask anyone round here if you don’t believe me. They all knew he’d cleared off to that tart Nellie Tucker.’
‘Why wouldn’t I believe you, Mrs Wild?’ Constable Bickerstaff tapped his pencil on his notebook. Swiftly he started writing. He flicked a look up at Fran just as she cast an appealing look towards her sister.
Tilly was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of tea.
‘You heard what she said. If you want to know about Jimmy, best get yourself down Finsbury Park and question Nellie,’ Tilly suggested harshly.
‘We intend to,’ Constable Franks said. ‘We’ve come first to inform next of kin.’
‘You just said you ain’t sure it’s him you’ve found. Me sister might not be next of kin in that case.’
Ralph Franks coloured slightly beneath his colleagues’ withering look. He’d jumped the gun on that one and he knew it. He coughed. ‘That’s right. We’re not sure. It’s a headless corpse …’ He hesitated as he saw Mrs Wild gag. He received another glare from Bickerstaff.
‘The man had obviously been in a fight and had been stabbed. He looks to have been your husband’s size and height. He had a distinctive tattoo on his left arm that’s still visible,’ Constable Bickerstaff interjected. ‘A snake … your husband had a tattoo like that as I recall, Mrs Wild.’
‘Lots of men got snake tattoos,’ Tilly butted in and put an arm about her sister’s heaving shoulders. ‘Get going, will you. You’ve upset her now and it might not even be for a good reason.’
Twitch stared thoughtfully at his notes while he pondered on making the request. The body wasn’t a pretty sight. It had obviously been in the water for weeks. He knew too that what the women had said about Jimmy Wild and the tart was true. He could recall the street fight that had gone on between these two women and Nellie Tucker when Jimmy had first started knocking about with the prostitute. He decided to ask the question. ‘Would you be able to identify your husband’s body from that snake tattoo, Mrs Wild?’
Fran shook her head vigorously and suddenly swung around to spurt vomit on the floor.
‘Look what you’ve done to her!’ Tilly blasted. ‘Why should she look at it? Might be someone else’s old man.’
Constable Franks studied the mellowing bruising on Fran’s face. He then looked at similar yellowing on her sister’s cheek. They’d taken a beating at about the same time, it seemed. As the bruises were quite faded he’d guess that they’d got them at about the same time Jimmy Wild – if it was him – got dumped in the Thames. ‘You two been scrapping?’ he asked dryly.
‘Yeah …’
‘No …’
‘Well, which is it?’ Bickerstaff asked with a spasm. He knew what Franks was thinking. He’d already mulled that one over. He knew that Jimmy liked to use his fists. He knew he’d frequently set about his wife and kids, although he’d never known him to assault his sister-in-law. But Jack Keiver had gone to war and was no longer able to protect his wife from a man who got off on punching women.
‘I had a fight a few weeks back,’ Tilly blurted, keen to disperse the awkward quiet that had settled on the room. ‘Woman called Jeannie Robertson did a flit owing back rent and got me in the shit over it all with me guvnor. She’s been back here, ain’t she, and I went for her over it.’
‘You came off worst by the looks of things,’ Bickerstaff remarked. He knew that Tilly Keiver could hold her own in a fight so he remained sceptical. But she’d given him a line of enquiry if he cared to check.
‘And you?’ He turned his attention to Fran. ‘Were you helping to even the score with this … er …’ He referred to his notes. ‘Jeannie Robertson?’ The sorry sight of Fran’s wonky nose drew his eyes.
‘Not me,’ Fran said. ‘Ain’t my business.’
‘She fell down the stairs here, pissed,’ Tilly stated. ‘Been drinking too heavy since that bastard up ‘n’ left her with the kids and no money.’
Bickerstaff glanced thoughtfully at the floor then put away his book. ‘Well, I think that’s all. If the necessary evidence that it is your husband …’ This time Bickerstaff looked a trifle embarrassed. The proof they needed was a severed head, and referring to it had made Fran look as though she might again throw up. Briskly the two police constables took their leave, stepping daintily to avoid the mess on the boards.
Outside in the street the police officers started walking immediately in the direction of Lennox Road. Stares and catcalls followed them. They’d been seen going into the tenement house. Now quite a crowd had gathered to watch for them to leave. Rozzers weren’t liked walking the streets round here. They certainly weren’t wanted poking around inside the houses.
‘I reckon they’re lying and know more than they’re
