Miss Take - Chapter 6 (4919)

Chapter 6 (4919)



Kelly hunched her shoulders, trying to look as small as she could and turned her head to look out the passenger side window. Her hair was loose, a wild shaggy bush that helped hide her face. She felt naked and exposed without a hood over her head. She felt that at any moment Lavius would realise it was her. She tried to calm her breathing, to not draw his attention away from his driving. The last time he saw me, she told herself, I’d been in heals, make up and a padded bra. My hair had been tied back, I had glasses on, there is no way he could recognise me, surely?

As the blood stopped ringing in her ears and her breathing slowed, she realised the car was speaking.

‘She’s just going to nag you until you put your seatbelt on,’ said Lavius not unkindly.

She wriggled in her seat and put the belt on, keeping her head down.

‘Going to tell me what was going on, kid?’

Kelly squirmed a little and looked out of the window again.

‘Just some bad guys.’

‘Uh-huh. What did they want?’

‘Dunno.’

The detective sighed. ‘Ok, then, let’s start from the beginning. What’s your name?’

‘What’s it to you?’ replied Kelly in her best surly boy voice. ‘You arresting me? For what? I was just walking. It was you that wanted me to get in your car. You a pervert?’

Lavius laughed. ‘I just saved your skin; a bit of gratitude would be nice. Listen kid, I can either take you to the station or take you home? Which is it?’

‘Home.’

‘OK then,’ he said, keeping his eyes on the road as they cruised down onto Princes Street. ‘Where is that?’

Kelly thought for a moment, considering what lie to give. ’Broomhouse Road.’

‘Sighthill is it?’ asked Lavius, looking for a turning.

‘Aye.’

‘I’m going to speak to your parents. So that better not be a fake address.’

Kelly cursed herself, and unable to think of anything else gave the only address she could think of.

‘Fuck’s sake man. Craigs Park then. Up from the Gyle.’

Lavius smiled but said nothing. The drove for a while, then he started the conversation again.

‘So, what’s your name?’

‘Gavin Newgate.’

She gave him the alias she used when dealing with Treacle.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twelve.’

‘What school do you go to?’

The fictional character of Gavin Newgate had grown over the years. She had developed him a lot, giving him a long and complicated backstory. She’d enjoyed it, even, making up a family for him, his school situation, why he had resorted to crime and everything else. It had all been wasted on Treacle, he either didn’t believe her or didn’t care, more likely the later. She fought the temptation to bring it all out for Lavius, reasoning that he might get suspicious if she sounded like she was reading off someone’s Wikipedia entry.

She kept her face away from the detective and her arms and legs folded to try and hide her gender. She was used to lying to people, and knew that it was better to keep the lies simple, don’t try and give seemingly helpful answers and above-all, don’t ad-lib. It was better just to deny everything.

‘Don’t go to school. Got expelled,’ she muttered eventually.

‘God, alright,’ sighed Lavius. ‘What school did you get expelled from?’

‘Craigmount.’

‘So, come on Gavin old chap. Tell me why those guys were chasing you?’

She wondered if he was giving her the “good cop” routine, or whether he was actually this friendly.

‘Maybe they wanted my autograph? Dunno. Bunch of losers, whatever.’

‘Smart arse,’ grumbled Lavius. ‘Tell you what, why don’t we go back and ask them, shall we?’

Kelly began to realise she had to give him something. Taking a calculated risk, she said, ‘All right, all right. I steal phones. Just sometimes. These six Polish dudes, or whatever, they come up to me and start asking me questions and stuff. They said they’d heard about me on the street or something.’

Halfway through the sentence she started to cry. Her tears were not entirely fake.

‘It’s just to get a few quid for food you know? I don’t know what they wanted. I just ran for it. They wanted to take me into their club and beat me up, I think. You gonna arrest me? I’ve not got anything on me. You can’t do me just for running.’

‘You’re right, Gavin. I can’t. I’m sure I could think of something though.’

She sniffed back her tears. ‘There were five of them I saw. I can describe them.’

‘Don’t bother, I know who they are.’

‘Who are they?’ she asked, suddenly alert and interested, so much so, she forgot about hiding her face and looked directly at them.

‘Well, I don’t want to give you nightmares,’ he replied, ‘But they are not nice people. Those three I saw coming after you are all enforcers for a Romanian drug gang called the Vampires on account of the fact that they kill their enemies with a screwdriver to the neck.’

‘What do they want with me then?’ she asked. She knew well enough, but she was fishing to find out how much the police knew.

‘They didn’t ask?’

She kissed her teeth and looked back out the window. He was evidently just as good as her at answering a question with a question.

‘I ran away.’



They talked until the car finally reached Craigs Park, but neither of them managed to get any more information out of the other and Lavius did not threaten her with a trip back to the station again.

They pulled up to the house number she had given him.

‘You actually going to come in copper?’ she asked.

‘I’ll come to the door. Speak to your folks,’ he said as he unbuckled his belt and got out of the car. It was a pleasant middle-class suburban street. The house was a two-storey pebble-dashed semi, evidently not what Lavius was expecting.

‘Nice neighbourhood.’

‘What you saying? I can’t live in a nice neighbourhood?’ snarled Kelly still in the role of Gavin.

‘All right, moody. Let’s just get this over with.’

He knocked on the door and a few seconds later it was opened by a large white-bearded man in a tatty dressing-gown.

Lavius smiled and was the first to talk. ‘Hello. My name is Detective Sergeant Corum Lavius.’ Then realising that since the man was white and was probably not Gavin’s father he went on. ‘Are you responsible for this child?’

The man seemed a little flustered but eventually said, ‘I, well. Yes, I suppose I am. What’s this about?’

Lavius put his hand gently on Kelly’s shoulder. ‘Nothing too much to worry about. Young Gavin here had a run in with some bad men. I thought it best to take him home.’

‘Right, right,’ said the man rubbing his beard. He looked back into the house and up the stairs.

‘I’m sorry. I won’t keep you; I know it’s late,’ said Lavius. ‘Can I ask your name before I go?’

‘Oh, it’s Niles Makepeace. This is a foster home, sorry, I was just checking if we hadn’t woken up wee Connor.’

‘Here’s my card,’ said the detective as he reached into his jacket pocket. ‘Here, take a few. If there is any more bother, give me a call, right?’

He looked down at Kelly. ‘That goes for you too.’

‘Yeah right’, she mumbled as she squeezed past Niles and turned left into the living room.



She twitched back the curtain and looked out of the window. The car was still there.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Niles as he entered. His hands were shaking as he found his cigarettes and lit one up. When she didn’t answer he raised his voice a little. ‘Kelly? What on Earth is going on?’

‘In a minute dad,’ she hissed. ‘Just wait until the Dibble leaves.’

Niles flopped down in the room’s only armchair. He picked up a can of larger that sat on its arm and shook it. It was empty. He stood up again and sat on the sofa, rooting around behind it for more beer. When he’d found one, he opened it and took a swig.

After a satisfied sigh he put the can down on the floor. ‘Come on Kelly. A cop turns up at the door and thinks you’re a boy? I can’t deal with this, really.’

‘In a minute dad!’ she repeated. ‘Why isn’t he leaving? He’s talking to someone on the phone.’

Niles stood up and approached the window, but she motioned him back with a hiss.

‘Well, you keep an eye out then, Butch Cassidy,’ growled Niles tossing his cigarette into an ashtray on the cluttered table by the TV. ‘I’d better check we didn’t wake Connor.’



Corum had called Mabel Yoyuwevuto.

‘Did I wake you? Well, anyway, keeping an eye on the Vampire’s turned up something after all. They are definitely nervous. I think they are putting the thumbscrews on some of the local freelancers. I rescued a wee rascal from their evil clutches just half an hour ago. Does the name Gavin Newgate ring a bell? Little black fellow, about two shades darker than you. Big afro.’

There was a rustling noise from the other end of the line. Corum assumed she was getting out of bed. ‘No Sergeant, but I can put it in the computer and see what it turns up.’

‘It’s evidence too, I suppose, thinking about it, that they weren’t the ones that killed Big Mack. Otherwise why would they be looking for who did? They must have nothing to go on if they are chasing after children.’

‘Did you arrest the boy, Sergeant?’ asked Yoyuwevuto.

‘For what? I’ve just dropped him off at his dad’s,’ replied Lavius.

‘Well, it could be the Vampires think that he was the Wraithston burglar.’

‘Come on, Yoyo. This boy was just twelve. Even younger than Paul Bevy.’

‘How do you know, Sergeant?’

‘Well, he told me.’

There was a long silence while they both thought over the existing evidence and saw if this new piece of the puzzle fit anywhere.

‘I suppose it’s possible he’s older,’ conceded Lavius. ‘He’s a proper midget then, if he is. He looked like he weighed about the same as a bag of sugar. Sorry I’m just not good with kids.’

‘Amazing catch none the less, Sergeant,’ said Yoyuwevuto.

‘But? But, what?’ laughed Lavius. ‘I can always spot when there is a but with you, Mable.’

‘Just, Gavin could have been older than he said he was. It’s not impossible.’

‘You think he is your man? The Squirrel?’ Lavius mused for a moment, then rather sharply said, ‘What is it with this case? Why are all the suspects toddlers? You think we should bring him in? I’m still at the house.’

‘Maybe, Sergeant,’ edged Yoyuwevuto, never one to want to cause any bad feeling between colleagues.

‘Well, whatever Yoyo. Maybe you HBU boys just drag in ASBOs by the bus load, but us over at the Major Investigation play a more subtle game. Put it this way, if you want him you can have him, maybe he is the Squirrel, but he wasn’t a murderer. The size of him, he couldn’t murder a bag of chips. Mack the Knife weighed about 18 stone.’

‘He may have caught him unawares, Sergeant.’

‘Hmm, I suppose so,’ he said more mildly. ‘I just don’t see it though.’

There was a long paused until Lavius broke the silence.

‘OK, maybe we’ll leave him for now. I’ve got nothing to arrest him with, but we can always come back and question him. Can you spare a man to watch the house?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll go speak to a few people and see what they say. You can run him through your system tomorrow morning while I’m doing the rounds. Bye for now darling.’

Yoyuwevuto wished him a good night and he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. He sat for a while longer, then eventually started the car and drove off.



Kelly watched all this from the living room window and let out a long sigh when the car finally left. Her foster father sat quietly chain smoking on the sofa. He had put on some clothes.

‘They’ll be back dad.’

‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

Kelly sat down in the armchair and curled her feet up underneath her. She pulled a band from her pocket and tried to tie back and tame her hair. ‘It’s complicated dad. You are better off not knowing. I told the cop I was a twelve-year-old boy called Gavin Newgate.’

‘But why?’

‘I’m sorry, really I am, I didn’t know what other address to give. For reasons you are much better off not knowing some bad men are after me. Or after Gavin rather. I’m hoping they don’t find out who I really am, then I’m in massive trouble.’

Niles was speechless. Kelly continued. ‘I think when they come back you should just tell them I’m a stray. You’ve been feeding me, but you don’t know where I live.’

‘You’re a teacher, Kelly. How did you get mixed up in all this… whatever it is? Is it because of all that karate and stuff you do? Like, some ninjas wanting to take you down? Some kind of kung-fu death or honour thing?’

Kelly laughed. ‘Yeah, something like that dad.’

‘I always said that would be trouble. All that kicking and chopping. Why learn to fight when you can run?’

‘You are absolutely right dad,’ Kelly agreed wholeheartedly.

Niles, laughed, groaned and stretched back on the sofa. He took a swig of his beer and put it down by the ashtray. ‘Well, even under these circumstances, it’s great to see you. Have you heard from your nan?’

‘I called her a week ago or so. She’s doing fine.’

Niles smiled. ‘She’s a tough old bird, that one. She’s were you get it all from. This flair for violence. You’re a warrior, just like her.’

Kelly stood up and patted him on the shoulder as she passed. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

He didn’t but he followed her through into the kitchen. As she boiled the kettle, he brought out the biscuits.

‘Well, you’re a grown woman now, but if you want my advice, give up all the chop-sockey. It’s great to see you doing so well in all those competitions, but if it leads to street fights, you’re better off without it.’

‘Maybe dad, but like you said, I get it from nan.’

Niles, warming to a familiar subject munched on a chocolate Hob-nob as he spoke. ‘Listen, I love your nan. She is a wonderful lady, but you can’t believe anything she tells you.’

‘I believed it when I was little,’ replied Kelly as she made herself a cup of tea. ‘Those two years I lived with her while mum was in hospital, I believed everything she told me.’

‘Just nonsense, her and those dances that she used to do,’ said Niles.

Kelly laughed. ‘I think she still does them, even at eighty. I remember them so clearly from when I was little. She said it was her war dance. Lifting her leg up over her head then slamming it down. Like the Zulus.’

‘If your nan is a Zulu, I’ll eat my hat.’

‘That’s what she says. She’s not West Indian, we know that much.’

‘Do we?’

They were both leaning against the kitchen worktop now, as Kelly sipped her tea and Niles smoked another cigarette, flicking the ash into the sink.

‘She used to tell me all these blood-thirsty stories. Stories that her grandmother had told her, about how their tribe were cannibals, and when they captured other tribes, they’d cook them all in a big pot while they all danced around it.’

‘She was pulling your leg.’

‘Probably. But she was a tough old lady, before she lost her marbles.’



They talked like that for several more hours, until it was three in the morning. Eventually Niles fell asleep on the sofa, with eight empty beer cans on the table in front of him. All the talk about family history had made her melancholy and she sat, gazing at the after-glow of the gas fire in the hearth, thinking about her mother.

On a cold January evening in 1996, five police officers came to the door of Mrs Pamela Kane, at her house on Chaplain Road in Brixton. The group of policemen included an armed CID officer. They were looking for her brother, Luke Take, in connection with an armed robbery. Mrs Kane was in bed. The first person to see them was Kelly, then just four years old, as they used a ram to break down the door. Still half-asleep Pamela stumbled down the stairs from the bedroom and was shot in the chest. The police searched the house and did not find Luke Take. An ambulance was called and Pamela Kane was taken to St Tomas’s Hospital.

At the hospital the surgeons found no bullet in Pamela as it had exited her body via her spine after traveling all the way through her left lung. She spent the next two years in hospital and during that time little Kelly was looked after by her grandmother. A full three years after she had been shot Pamela was finally well enough to be moved to a council bungalow and Kelly moved in with her. Six months later she contracted pneumonia. Her wounded lungs got severely infected and she died a few months later. Kelly’s grandmother was herself now too infirm to look after her, much as she had wanted to, and she went into foster care. The policeman that had shot her mother was never charged with committing a crime. The anger that fueled Kelly throughout her life had been born in the moment her mother had been shot. She relived it every day. There had been happy times since, with her grandmother and then with her loving foster family, but the fury had never left her. It was what fueled her. Fighting in martial arts competitions had been a useful outlet for the rage – and for a while it was enough. Then she had re-cast herself as Miss Take, the cat burglar that thumbed her nose at the incompetent police, driving them mad with her daring escapades. How juvenile it all seemed now. Now that it was all exploding right up into her dumb, stupid face.

She gave up thinking about the past and stood up. As she looked down on the large snoring frame of her foster father, she thought over what her next move should be. Get home, get changed and cleaned up, go to work. Act normal, if she could. She had no idea if the police would be watching the house. She hoped so, it would keep her father safe. She left by the back door and down along the side of the a fence to the end of the row, a hidden route she had used a thousand times as a teenager.

The next day her leg was still stiff, but some deep heat and a knee brace helped with that. She wore a long skirt to cover it and dressed even more feminine than usual, with extra padding and make-up, trying to look as little like Gavin Newgate as possible. The cut on her back had not been deep and a few large sticking plasters had been enough to stop the flow of blood, although she was still a bit stiff.

He classes were not demanding and she had plenty of time to think. The cops might be dumb, but she was sure they would connect the dots eventually. She was the only link between Gavin Newgate and Paul Bevy. They were unlikely to immediately jump to the conclusion that she was Gavin, but they’d find out that she was fostered by Niles and wonder how it was that the teacher of the first suspect was fostered by the same man who seemed to know the second. She trusted Niles not to snitch, he never had during all the turbulent times of her teenage years and she had no reason to believe he would now. It irked her though, especially as it was all down to her own stupidity and risk taking. Up until last night no one, not one soul, knew that she had an alias. She couldn’t predict what was going to happen next.

The police and the Romanian’s were all after a murderer though, and that wasn’t her. She had seen the man that had killed Mack the Knife, and had even followed him for a while. If she could somehow track him down and shine a light on him, that would take the light of her, surely? It might be too much to hope for that all her troubles would go away, but so far, as far as she knew, she was the only one who knew anything at all about what really happened. Could she just call Crimestoppers and give his description? She had a feeling it would take more than that to take the heat off her. Could she track down the killer herself? She had no idea where to even begin. The only criminal she new was Treacle, and even if he did want to help her, would he know who the murderer was from her description? He was pretty low level, as far as she understood, and liked to keep out of the Edinburgh underworld as much as he could. He mainly fenced mobile phones and stolen bicycles; she was sure she was his biggest customer. He’d be no help, she could save herself the bother of talking to him, she was so certain.

She didn’t go for her lunchtime walk. She didn’t want anyone to see her with a limp and she didn’t like the idea of inflicting more pain on her sore leg by hobbling all the way down to the sandwich shop in high heels, so she ate in the staff room.

‘What the matter? You seem distant,’ said Agnes Hunter as she sat down beside her.

Kelly looked down at her packed lunch. She’d barely touched it. She picked up half a sandwich and had it in her mouth when Mrs Hunter said, ‘we had the police around again this morning.’

Kelly looked up in alarm.

‘They were in with David for about half an hour. Asking if Paul had been seen with this other lad they are after.’

‘Which police?’ asked Kelly as she gulped down her mouthful of sandwich.

‘Oh, the same as last time. That Lavius fellow is a bit dishy don’t you think? He has the air of an upper-class loafer about him, but he’s easy on the eye.’

‘Not really my type,’ replied Kelly softy.

‘I’ve often wondered what your type is,’ said Mrs Hunter archly. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about any other bad boys that Paul was hanging out with? Boys from outside the school?’

‘Not that I can think of.’

At that moment, one of Mrs Hunter’s more regular cronies came in and she went over to share her gossip with her, leaving Kelly to her thoughts. Did this mean that Lavius was already on to her? He’d not wasted any time coming to the school, looking for links between the suspects. What had Trajan said to her again? That Lavius was like a terrier. He didn’t stop. Detective Lavius appeared to get more respect from Romanian gangsters than from teachers. It would only be a matter of days before he was asking her questions, she was sure of that now. Asking what she knew about a certain young man called Gavin Newgate. The sooner she found the real killer the better.



***



At the same time as Kelly was eating her lunch, Lavius was leaning on one of his informants in a Sighthill doss-house. It was a relatively relaxed meeting, as both men sat back on broken armchairs, smoking cigarettes and gazing at a dead television. They were both wrapped up in their coats as there was no heating.

The informant, the young man with ginger hair and a recently broken nose was telling Lavius about the day before.

‘This kid, he wuz like a devil, ken?’ said the ginger-haired man in a thick Scottish accent. ‘The Romanians are all convinced it was an evil spirit called prickly-something…’

‘A pricolici?’

‘Aye, that’s the one. Came raging into the club, he’d already mangled half of them when me and Tam the Man rocked up. I can hold my own in a pub fight, ken? But this week kid ripped through me like wet bog roll. Tam lasted a bit longer. Ye’d mebbe expect that, him being a boxer and that, but the kid laid him flat too. I just stayed on the floor pretending to be out of it.’

‘So, he crawls across the ceiling like a spider and takes out four of Trajan’s goon squad, flattens you and Tam, then what happened?’

‘Head’s upstairs, like. Me and Tam, we’re just bouncers, ken? Trajan wants us to be bagmen, but Tam’s nae into it. I’m no into all that crime stuff, my maw always says…’

‘What happened upstairs, Kenny?’

‘Well, aye, I’d had enough really, but Tam was out for blood. They got him cornered in one of the upstairs rooms. Then the kid lets off a smoke bomb and starts laying into them with a fucking spirit level. Nicholai goes through the window, then the kids on his back and jumping out into the fucking street, man! It’s fucking mental. He grabs onto the cow’s tits, swings down and he’s aff!’

‘Jesus,’ said Lavius.

‘Trajan is pure doing his fuckin nut,’ went on Kenny, warming to the story. ‘He’s like “What the fuck happened up here?” and they are all lying about with bits fucking missing saying “It was like fighting a devil!” and Trajan is like “A smoke bomb? He let off a smoke bomb? And that actually fucking worked? You have got to be fucking kidding me!”’

The last bit Kenny did in a passable impression of Trajan’s eastern European accent.

‘Then he’s all like, “Well get fucking after him then!” and there are just a couple of cunts that can, you know, still fucking walk, that go out and you can bet they are in no hurry at all to catch him! No hurry a-fucking-tall!’

Kenny laughed, then winced and gently touched his taped-up nose. ‘He was a ninja, man. Some kind of kung-fu nutter. Watching him fight Tam was totally like watching a Jackie Chan film.’

Lavius sat in stunned silence. The wee kid that he had dropped off at his dad’s the night before had ripped through a whole squad of Trajan’s goons like a fox in a hen-house.

It was unbelievable, but why would Kenny lie though? Embarrassed over a broken nose? But what could be more embarrassing than being beaten up by a kid?

‘That is a tale and a half, Kenny,’ he said finally.

‘You after him then, this kid?’

‘Well, up until yesterday no, but why was Trajan’s after him?’

‘That I don’t know,’ said Kenny truthfully enough. ‘Me and Tam had just come on shift. You’d have to ask one of the gypos that one. If you do catch him, watch yerself Corum, he’ll mess you up!’



Later in the afternoon Lavius met his partner at McDonalds. While he wolfed down two Happy Meals she primly sipped on a cup of black coffee she had taken the lid off.

‘What?’ he said. ‘My sister’s kids collect these Pokémon toys.’

‘I never said a word!’ laughed Yoyuwevuto.

‘Well anyway. I had a chat with one of my narks. So, this kid. He beats the shit of like ten of Trajan’s men. And climbed across the ceiling apparently. They call him the pricolici – which is Romanian bogeyman in case you don’t know. This ass-kicking spiderman, I guess we can assume is your Squirrel.’

‘I would say so, Sergeant,’ agreed Yoyuwevuto. ‘And you had him in your car.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ smiled Lavius through a mouthful of chips. ‘We know where he lives. Since you HBU guys don’t seem to mind about things like “evidence” and “just cause” feel free to go and arrest him if you want. Sorry about laying some air-quotes on you there.’

‘That’s no problem, sir,’ replied Yoyuwevuto. ‘I assume then, you have something else in mind?’

‘I’m still thinking, to be honest, Yoyo. If this kid, this Gavin Newgate really did beat up all those baddies then he’s certainly capable of killing Big Mac. It’s just, I dunno…’

He paused and put down the burger he had been waving around. Yoyuwevuto tilted her head.

‘It’s just, I’ve met dozens of killers. This kid was just a kid! If he’s the Squirrel he must have started busting houses when he was in nappies. None of it makes any sense, but I suppose we can find out by going round his house and asking him.’

‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said his partner. ‘When?’

Lavius pushed his tray to one side and picked up a napkin to wipe the grease from his fingers. ‘How about now?’