The Jade Garden (The Barrington Patch Book 2) Page 14

  “We must run our own shop,” he told Hua. “Take our children with us.”

  Except it hadn’t worked out that way. Jiang and Yenay had chosen to stay working for their uncle, and Hua, she continued packaging the drugs with Mei, weighing them, putting them into small bags in the office at the Jade, placing them in the fridge afterwards. They were too afraid of Lenny to chance leaving, looking on him as a god who’d saved them.

  Their loyalty to him knew no bounds.

  Zhang Wei had no such loyalty. Yes, he was grateful, but in the end he’d moved on, securing The Golden Dragon on a different estate, distancing himself from the hub, from the big boss who had always scared him. He slept easier, his conscience clear now he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but the occasional sleepless night occurred if he thought about his wife and children remaining under Lenny’s control.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling something bad would happen eventually. Although the goods had been sold for many years without any police interference, one day, their luck would run out. He wished Hua, Jiang, and Yenay would reconsider, but they didn’t.

  All he could do was put his trust in Lenny and pray the man kept his family safe.

  If Lenny Grafton were alive today, Zhang Wei would kill him.

  Li Jun had told him, when they’d been in the car on the way to Helen’s, that Jiang’s death wouldn’t have been Lenny’s fault had he still been here, and it wasn’t Cassie’s. As a family, they’d known what they were walking into, they’d been aware of the risks. Short of having a guard in the Jade, someone sitting in the office all the time, what else were the Graftons supposed to do?

  Exactly that. Someone they trusted with the knowledge the drugs were in the fridge should have been appointed the job of looking after them. It shouldn’t have been left to the family. Li Jun had argued that the money he received every week was, in part, for them to ensure no one stole the goods. He’d agreed this with Lenny.

  But someone had to pay. The fact Brett already had didn’t matter.

  Once Li Jun had confessed who Jiang’s killer was, an immense rage had consumed Zhang Wei, and only one course of action was available to him. Visit Helen, take her life as retribution, then go for Geoff. All the way to the laundrette, Li Jun had pleaded with him, asking him to reconsider, but Zhang Wei had driven on regardless, needing to assuage the incessant prodding of his conscience—the guilt at him dragging his children and wife into this mess, his decision to chase riches bringing them to this…this terrible time.

  Greed. He was ashamed of it now. He had his own takeaway without extra goods being passed over in the bags, he had a nice home, he had money.

  But he no longer had a son. One of the best riches of all was gone.

  At Helen’s, he’d battled with ignoring Cassie, cleaving Helen’s face in two with his long blade whether the estate leader liked it or not. But she’d pointed a gun at him, and he’d reevaluated. Hua and Yenay didn’t deserve to be told he was dead, shot by a young woman who’d continue to expect them to work for her, despite her murdering him. It was enough they mourned Jiang, and he couldn’t allow them to mourn him, too.

  Eventually, on the drive back to The Dragon, he’d conceded—but only on the surface to shut his brother up. He’d agreed Li Jun was right, it wasn’t Helen’s or Geoff’s fault Brett had done this despicable thing. Li Jun had visibly relaxed, and all the while, Zhang Wei had thought otherwise. It was Cassie’s fault for not putting safety measures in place. As well as Helen and Geoff, she would pay in place of Lenny, who should have covered all bases back in the day.

  While Hua was at the Jade packaging the drugs, business continuing as usual, as if their son hadn’t been killed, Yenay also there preparing food for the lunchtime crowd, Zhang Wei left his employees to open up The Dragon so he could plot in his little office in the spare bedroom.

  He’d give Cassie Grafton the chance to right this wrong, asking her to execute Helen and Geoff, two people who needed to surrender their lives because of what their family member had done. It was the right way, the only way. If she refused…

  Zhang Wei wasn’t taking this lying down. His son was dead, and he wouldn’t rest until he had Helen’s and Geoff’s blood on his hands.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jason was dogged off and paced his bedroom. Cassie had told him she didn’t need him today, she’d be dealing with Cheryl and owt else regarding the Jade on her own. What was that all about? He was supposed to be with her in the guise of watching her back, not discarded to one side like stinking rubbish.

  Not knowing what was being said or done screwed with his mind. If he didn’t know the ins and outs, how could he plot his next move? He had to know what was going on in her head, what her next move was, but short of following her and listening in, which she’d clock immediately, what else could he do but obey her command?

  Has the lad opened his gob?

  Jason had contemplated going to see Cheryl, but she was the sort to grass him up to Cassie, plus he couldn’t be seen going behind her back. Cassie must never know what he was up to until she was so far gone she couldn’t do owt about it. Gone, as in, married to him and so under his influence she didn’t have the energy to fight him taking over.

  The long game was getting her dependent on him, dependent on anti-depressants, too, his mind games sending her mad. He’d provide tablets, get her docile. She’d be so out of it, the only option available was for him to run the Barrington for her until she ‘got better’.

  But she never would, he’d see to that.

  Yes, it was definitely a long game but one he was prepared to play. Mam had to have that house on New Barrington, and now the fucking drug theft had gone tits up, he had no money to bloody pay for it. As for Francis, he’d dope her up an’ all, get the pair of them off their nuts. Add extra ground-up tablets to their food, ones he’d already got off the black market.

  He laughed, a bit loud, then tamped down the mental-ness of it in case Mam heard him from the kitchen below and cottoned on that he was on the verge of losing it. She’d want to help, and he couldn’t have her pecking at him until he gave in and revealed all.

  He sniffed some of Richie’s cocaine, the rush sending him manic.

  I’ve got to talk to someone.

  He only had one person he trusted, and even that was stretching it—he didn’t fully trust anyone, even Mam. Didn’t even trust himself when someone called him a prick. God, if he couldn’t even rely on him, how could anyone else?

  He’d go and see the woman now, get some advice. She’d kept her gob shut so far after he’d spoken to her before, and he reckoned she believed in him, that he’d take over the Barrington and rule everyone, and that was why she hadn’t informed on him to Cassie. She wanted him as her boss, of course she did.

  He left his bedroom and went downstairs, rubbing his nose to make sure no white powder was on show. Christ, he hated this manky little house. It seemed like Dad was still everywhere, even though it’d been redecorated three times over and all the stolen furniture taken to the tip after he’d ‘walked out’ on them. Nan had loaned Mam the money to do it up: “…now that nasty bastard won’t get any benefit from it. I said before when you wanted money, Gina: not while you’re with that waste of space.” Then came the sour lips and knowing eye, Nan folding her arms.

  His father wasn’t gone, Lenny hadn’t managed to make him disappear completely. His evilness resided in the walls, his vicious whispers still filtering out from the breeze blocks, through the plaster, the coats of paint: ‘You’re a prick, lad, a fucking prick.’

  Even hearing those words in his head set him off, and he stormed into the living room where he’d left his coat in the early hours. He snatched it from the sofa and shrugged it on, the inside cold against his cotton shirt and seeping through to his skin. Mam had taken his glass away, which he’d left on the coffee table prior to stumbling up to bed, but the bottle of JD was still there, asking him to have a taste, goading him on. Come on, son, you know you w
ant me.

  He fought the battle for the count of three then gave in and unscrewed the lid, slinging the alcohol down his throat, the burn of it forcing fire into his already cocaine-heated veins. He put the top back on, contemplating taking his old bottled friend with him, but common sense prevailed, and he slid it inside the wall cabinet, murmuring, “We have a date later.”

  “You off out, Jase?” Mam called from the kitchen.

  He jumped, momentarily thinking the bottle had spoken to him, then went in there, a glut of emotion clogging his throat at the sight of her. She’d come into her own once Dad had gone, changing her clothing, her hairstyle, becoming this wonderful starlet with her lovely curls—and makeup instead of black eyes. She was beautiful and deserved the best, to get away from here and into a place where she’d fit better, where she belonged more. She was too good for the likes of the folks around here, always had been, especially this street. How she’d ended up with scum like his dad he’d never know.

  She’d often said she wouldn’t leave this house when Jason had offered to pay higher rent elsewhere, that he’d been brought home from the hospital and had grown up there, the memories stitched into her mind so much she couldn’t bear to leave the gaff behind in case that meant leaving the memories behind, too, but if he presented her with a New Barrington pad, spacious rooms and fancy furniture, surely she’d see sense?

  “Yeah, got to see a man about a dog.” He took a slice of bread out of the bag on the side and stuffed some in his mouth.

  Mam’s eyes went wide. “I hope you don’t mean that literally.”

  “Don’t be daft. We don’t want one pissing on the carpet, do we,” he mumbled around the bread.

  He swallowed then crammed the rest in and walked out, the cold wind whipping his hair about, and got in his car, cursing the snow that had settled. Someone would see his vehicle outside his destination, but there wasn’t owt he could do about that. Maybe he ought to buy a clapped-out effort, storing it in a rented garage somewhere, using it for things like this.

  He sped off, making a stop halfway, parking behind one of the three little shops on the Barrington. What a shit state, all those wheelie bins with their lids open, rubbish poking out. There’d be rats here if the owner wasn’t careful, and the council would be on her back. Maybe he’d tell Cassie about it, egg her on to pay a visit and threaten the woman into cleaning up her act.

  He tugged his rucksack from the rear seat and took out one of his fake beards and a set of eyebrows. They weren’t reusable, lost their stickiness once he’d peeled them off, and he was running out. He made a mental note to buy some more.

  Disguise on, he smiled at himself in the rearview—fucking fit bastard, you are. If any neighbours saw him exiting his car and word got round he’d been at Brenda’s, he could make out it had been nicked and had no clue who the bearded fella was. Conscious he was creating scenarios that may not even happen, but pleased with himself all the same because it meant he was preparing for every eventuality, he switched his coat for a black hoodie then got going again, ending up in a street a step up from his own where everyone took care of their gardens, not just one or two residents. Mam always tended to theirs, planting flowers in the summer, creating this pretty mass of petals, but it stood out amongst the others with their broken furniture and bags of rubbish cluttering up the over-long grass.

  He glanced around, checking for people watching and, convinced he was safe, got out and approached the door. If she wasn’t in, he’d have to phone her, arrange to meet round that old boy’s place, but he’d use a burner, one he kept for making threatening phone calls in Cassie’s name so they weren’t aware it was him.

  A brisk knock brought Brenda to the door, and she stared at him, frowning.

  Chuffed to bits his disguise was top-notch and had her flummoxed, he grinned. “It’s me.”

  “Fucking hell, what are you playing at?” Brenda eyed the street, clearly unhappy he was there. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve got shit on my mind and no one to talk to.” He hated admitting that. It had him looking weak as eff.

  She folded her arms. “Speak to Cassie. I’m not called Dear Deirdre, you know.”

  What? “Who the hell’s that?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Go away. I’m already late for work.” She went to close the door and paused. “Why the bloody hell have you got a beard? And what’s with those monster eyebrows? Dennis Healey, anyone?”

  “Who?”

  “God, forget it, I’m showing my age. Just answer the bloody question.”

  He disliked her ordering him around and had to rein in his temper. “I didn’t want you getting in any shit if people see me.”

  She laughed. “I could say thanks, but you came in your own car, you stupid prat.”

  Jesus, for a minute there, he’d thought she was going to say ‘prick’, and who knew whether he’d have managed to keep it together. Who knew if she’d still have been standing there instead of on her hallway floor, a bullet hole in her forehead.

  “I know,” he said. “I’ve got excuses for that covered. Just let me in, will you? Sid Watson isn’t going anywhere, not with that Zimmer of his anyroad.” He pushed past her, shuddering at her leopard-print jeggings, wondering what the hell she thought she looked like. In the kitchen, he paced by the back door, a hand to his mouth, asking himself if he should confide in her after all or muddle through this alone. She hadn’t exactly been receptive so far.

  Brenda came in, hands on hips. “This had better be good.”

  “I need advice, all right?” He settled on his decision and blabbed everything he’d done—stealing takings from Nathan Abbott, letting Cassie murder the innocent man, getting those kids to do what he wanted, forcing Brett to steal the drugs, Jiang being offed, killing Brett—then went on to outline his idea about taking over the Barrington, incapacitating Cassie and Francis.

  “You’re playing a fucking dangerous game, son.” She lowered herself into a chair at the table and fiddled with a ruby pendant hanging over her wrinkly cleavage. “This has gone too far already. What were you thinking, robbing the Jade? And as for Jiang being sliced… Lord above. Not only do you have Cassie on the case, but Zhang Wei, he’ll want something done about this. You know what they’re like regarding family. One member is murdered, the others will be classed as enemies, too, and they’ll end up dead an’ all. Li Jun, he’s different, he’ll trust Cassie to deal with it, but his brother? What if word gets out you ordered Brett in there? Do you think Zhang Wei will let you get away with that?”

  “No one knows it was me,” he said, aware he sounded grumpy, petulant, but it was too late to take the words back now. “God, do you think I’m thick? I had this beard and whatever on, contacted Brett on a burner that I’ve since got rid of, approached those kids in the park in all black clothing, nowt that stood out.” He left out the fact he’d shown them his gun in the holster, she’d only ridicule him for it. “No one but you knows it was me, so unless you open your trap, Zhang Wei and Cassie will never find out, will they?”

  Brenda shook her head as if he were a stupid child. “They won’t be finding out from me, I can assure you. I mind my own, you know that. But why didn’t you take my advice? Why didn’t you stay in the background, observe, learn a few things before upping your game?”

  “I want it all now. Waiting isn’t an option.” He came off as sulky this time. A brat.

  Brenda traced a scratch on the table, frowning, as if annoyed it was there. “Being hasty could be your downfall, you do realise that, don’t you?”

  He glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly that. You’ve rushed it. Cassie’s back will be well and truly up at the minute. Have you considered that very few people know there’s drugs to be had in that fridge? You just told me where it was, so clearly you were trusted enough to be informed, but Cassie will have a list of who knows, and she’ll be assessing which one of them had the balls to use that information to their adv
antage. It won’t be long before your name comes up and she considers whether it was you. Okay, you kind of grew up with her, Lenny taking you under his wing an’ all that, but for years people involved kept quiet about that fridge, then you come along for the last few months, Cassie’s right hand, and someone tries to steal the gear.”

  She paused, staring out through the glass in the back door, and he studied her, desperate to know what she was thinking—whether she thought he was a prick like his father would have.

  “You made a mistake telling me about that fridge,” she went on. “We could say that means you trust me, but you should never have let it slip.” She pinched her bottom lip and twisted it. Let it go. Slapped her palm on her thigh. “Thank fuck I won’t be passing it on, that’s all I can say. Just watch your mouth in future, all right? Think before you speak, remember who you’re talking to—ask yourself if they’re someone who could get you right in the shit.”

  “Fair point.” He wished he’d brought the JD with him, he could use a swig at the moment. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He paced again, something niggling at him, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. Then it hit him, what had been discussed at Handel Farm. “Lenny’s books. Ledgers or whatever. Someone else mentioned those. What are they?”

  She widened her eyes. “Don’t even think of trying to read them. They’re all in code. Cassie and Francis don’t know I’m aware of them; Lenny told me one night years ago when he was sloshed. I was sworn to secrecy.”

  Jason laughed. “And there’s you banging on, saying I shouldn’t have told you about the fridge.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s a difference. You already knew about the ledgers. You brought them up.”

  She had him there, no denying it. Sodding hell, he’d have to keep a closer eye on Cassie now Brenda had said she’d be looking for whoever had told Brett about the fridge—he’d known that, was with her when she’d said about it, but he hadn’t flipped the coin over to see what was on the other side, how it would affect him. He’d been too cocky in thinking she wouldn’t suspect him. The pool of people who knew was small, and Cassie was an enormous shark, circling for blood.