A couple of minutes after Roy walked around the corner, Christopher heard a car door slam, glanced to his right, and saw the two men get out of the Triumph Herald. When they walked up to the door of the club, and rang the bell, Christopher ducked his head in the hope they wouldn’t notice him. Vinny’s car was parked outside the door of the club and as long as he stayed crouched down, Christopher guessed the men wouldn’t be able to see him. Unfortunately for him though, he had already been spotted. The woman whom he and his parents referred to as Mad Freda had been glued to her window for the past fifteen minutes.
Vinny Butler was alone in the club when the doorbell rang. ‘Who is it?’ he shouted, his hand on the bolt, ready to open the door.
Having watched the club since seven a.m. that morning, Johnny Preston knew that he had finally got Vinny alone. He had seen Michael arrive and leave earlier, and Roy had left just a few minutes ago. ‘It’s Judy Preston’s brother, Johnny. Can we have a quiet word, please?’
Vinny smirked and checked he had his knife in his pocket. He had been expecting a visit from Johnny Preston ever since paying Judy a visit, but he hadn’t quite expected him to turn up on a Sunday afternoon. ‘Too scared to come on your own, was you?’ Vinny asked sarcastically, when he swung the door open and saw that Johnny had a pal with him.
Johnny immediately felt his hackles start to rise. ‘Dave’s my partner. He goes everywhere with me, a bit like your brother Roy does with you.’
Vinny stepped outside the club and slammed the metal door. He wasn’t stupid. Johnny and his muggy sidekick might be tooled up for all he knew. ‘Spit it out then? I ain’t got all day,’ he said.
Johnny Preston and Dave Phillips glanced at one another. Neither had ever been this close to Vinny Butler before and both were thinking the self-same thing. Vinny was exactly as the rumour mill described him. He looked like he had a bit of Italian in him. His eyes were deadly cold, and his attitude was as cocksure as they came.
Johnny suddenly felt extremely wary, but he’d come this far and there was no going back now. It was only the other evening that he and Dave had been bragging to Mad Frankie Fraser in a South London boozer that he was going to confront Vinny Butler so, like it or not, he now had to do so. ‘You owe my sister an apology, Vinny. Who do you think you are, eh? Going round her gaff and threatening her in front of her young son? You’re bang out of order and I ain’t fucking putting up with it. Judy is keeping her baby and that is final,’ Johnny said, sounding much more confident than he actually felt.
Vinny was very good at staring at people for long spells without blinking, and he had never met a man yet in his life who could hold his gaze. When Johnny dropped his eyes, Vinny grabbed him by the neck and smashed his head as hard as he could against the metal door. ‘Your slag of a sister will get rid of that kid whether you like it or not. I’ll kick it out of her personally, if I have to. Now go crawl back under your rock and tell that whore you’re related to that I’ll be round next week to check she’s un-pregnanted her fucking self.’
When Dave punched Vinny in the side of the head, Christopher Walker stood up to get a better view.
‘Silly move, you dumb cunt,’ Christopher heard Vinny say. He then saw Vinny repeatedly punch the man in the stomach, with what looked to be a knife.
When Johnny Preston saw his pal lying lifeless on the floor with blood pumping out of his abdomen, he knew it was time for a quick getaway. He ran like the clappers, leapt into his Triumph Herald and sped off as Vinny chased the car, screaming abuse at him.
Vinny could feel his heart beating ferociously as the car disappeared out of sight. It wasn’t down to nerves, more annoyance that Preston had got away as he’d wanted to stab that bastard too.
Punching a nearby wall, Vinny quickly looked up and down the road. Thankfully, being a Sunday afternoon there wasn’t a soul in sight, so Vinny stepped over Dave Phillips’ dead body, picked up the knife he had dropped, jumped in his Jaguar, and was just about to drive off, when he saw young Christopher Walker sitting in the doorway opposite the club. Leaning across the passenger seat to unlock the door, Vinny ordered young Christopher to get in.
Christopher no longer had any adrenaline pumping through his veins as he did what Vinny asked. He had seen too much now, far too much, and he was petrified. When Vinny drove past his parent’s café, Christopher started to sob. ‘You’re not gonna kill me as well, are you? I won’t say nothing about what happened, Vinny. I swear I won’t.’
With his head all over the place, Vinny pulled into a nearby sidestreet and stopped the car. He took a ten-pound note out of his pocket and handed it to Christopher. ‘Take that and there is plenty more where that came from. You saw nothing, understand?’
‘Yes. I understand,’ the boy said, making a grab for the money and then the door handle.
Vinny leant across Christopher so he couldn’t get out of the car. ‘You need to dry them tears before you get home, boy, and when you do get home, you gotta act normal. Me and you will be best pals for life if you keep your trap shut about this, OK?’
‘OK,’ Christopher said, desperately trying to dry his eyes with the sleeve of his duffle coat.
Vinny tilted the child’s chin up, and looked him in the eyes. ‘This has to stay our little secret. You don’t want anything bad to happen to your mum, dad, or sister, do you? Because if you say something, that’s exactly what will happen.’
‘No, I love my mum, dad and sister.’
‘There’s a good boy,’ Vinny said, ruffling Christopher’s hair.
When Vinny finally opened the car door for him, Christopher took off down the street like a rat up a drainpipe. To say he was terrified was putting it mildly.
Freda Smart knelt down next to the man and immediately knew he was dead. It wasn’t just the blood that had seeped out of his stomach and decorated the pavement; it was seeing his shocked open-mouthed expression and his eyes rolled back lifelessly in his head.
After yesterday’s events with Kenny Jackson, Freda had made a point of standing guard at her window today. Unfortunately for her, her house was on the same side of the road as the snooker club, so she hadn’t had a clear view of exactly what had occurred. Even so, she was sure she’d seen and heard enough to put Vinny Butler in prison for life, where he belonged.
Seeing what she thought was the man’s hand flinch, Freda screamed and ran towards Herbie Jacob’s house. Freda couldn’t afford such luxuries as a telephone, but old Herbie had one.
‘Whatever’s wrong, Freda? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,’ Herbie said, when he answered his front door.
‘I have! There’s a man dead on the pavement. Call the police, Herbie. I know who killed him.’
Word travelled fast in Whitechapel, and within minutes of the police turning up, a crowd of fifty or so onlookers had arrived at the scene.
‘Was it you who reported the murder?’ one of the police officers asked Herbie.
Freda immediately butted in. ‘No. It was me. I know who killed him. I was looking out of my window, and I asked Herbie to ring you on my behalf.’
The police officer took Freda to one side. ‘If you can tell us what you know now, that would be most helpful. Then, we will need you to come down to the station to make a formal statement for us at some point.’
‘Vinny Butler killed the man. The man had a mate with him and I saw him chase the mate down the road. The mate got into a white car and drove off at top speed,’ Freda gabbled.
‘But, what about the actual murder? Did you see Mr Butler stab the victim with your own eyes?’
‘No. My house is on the same side of the road as his club, so my view was blocked. I saw a boy I know standing opposite though. He saw everything and then Vinny made him get inside his car