Open Wound by Scott Daly

Author:Scott Daly [Daly, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vanguard Press
Published: 2021-08-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven:

The Topping Shed

8.52 p.m. Friday.

Dennis and Terry were seated in a blue Ford Transit van which was parked sixty metres away from the Queen’s Head pub. Dennis was glued to his wing mirror, waiting intently for Nicola and the boys to exit the licensed premises, while Terry was mentally preparing himself for the looming encounter.

“We’re on, Tel, our targets are moving! They’re about to cross over to your side of the street. You can’t miss ‘em, the boys are side by side, average height, build, wearing jeans and puffer jackets. Nicola’s just behind ’em, perfectly disguised as a chav. The cunt’s short, fat, ginger, and kitted out in a tracksuit.”

“I’ve got visual,” Terry said, catching their image in his wing mirror as the van’s engine chugged into life.

“You strapped up and ready to go?” Dennis asked.

“All’s good, I’m favourite,” Terry replied, patting the 9mm concealed in his coat pocket.

“Don’t waste your time out there, son. If those cunts give you any grief, shoot ’em on the spot and get back here double lively. The motor’s ready to go when you are!”

“I know the drill,” he said calmly while leaving the vehicle, looking smartly dressed in a black suit and overcoat.

As Terry approached Nicola and the boys, he placed himself in their path. “Excuse me, guys, can I spare a few minutes of your time?” he asked, hand on gun.

“What you after, bruv?” Neil demanded his south London accent laced with a fake Jamaican twang.

At that moment, Terry produced a slim, blue wallet from his inside coat pocket. “I’m DS Banks from Lavender Hill CID,” he replied, flashing the police warrant card to the group tightening around him.

“Why you fuckin’ botherin’ us, fed? We ain’t doin no wrong, jus chillin,” Steve said, vocalising the animosity on display from his two friends.

“Relax. this ain’t a pull. You’re not being stopped on suss or anything like that. I just need to ask you some questions in connection with a Mr. Dennis Sykes.”

“Who is dat?” Nicola asked in the same mock vocabulary as her peers.

“He’s the uncle of the late Miss Burrows. I believe that young lady was once a good friend of yours?”

“What about it?” she retorted, her porcine face a picture of raw attitude.

“According to our files, Jane was the victim of a tragic accident that happened while in your company. Am I right?”

Neil kissed his teeth loudly. “Here we fuckin go again! Listen, Babylon, we went through all dis shit wid you cunts way back. Our names got cleared in the coroner’s court, know dat! So take your rassclart badge and fuck off!”

“I’m afraid, life ain’t that simple… The main purpose of the coroner’s court isn’t to appoint blame, like in a judicial court; its primary function is to ascertain the cause of a person’s death. Miss Burrows case received an open verdict, which meant there were grounds for foul play, but those findings couldn’t be proved by the coroner beyond all reasonable doubt. Put simply, Miss Burrows’ cause of

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