Sepulchre Street by Martin Edwards

Author:Martin Edwards [Edwards, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Rachel Savernake
ISBN: 9781801100281
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

18

‘My sincere condolences.’ Laurent spoke in a hushed voice. His eyelids were lowered as he leaned back in his leather chair. ‘I’m truly sorry.’

Joe Postles twitched. His face was drained of colour. ‘Sorry won’t bring my brother back.’

‘No.’

They were in Laurent’s office. The club manager lifted a crystal decanter and poured two generous measures of cognac into a pair of tumblers. His big brown eyes were misty with sentiment.

‘Here’s to Sammy. He was a good man, Joe.’

The little man rubbed his wrist before lifting his glass. Rachel had cracked a bone and it hadn’t stopped hurting.

‘The best.’

‘We all like a tipple now and then,’ Laurent savoured the tang. He’d abandoned any pretence at a French accent. ‘With Sammy, it was different. He needed the stuff, couldn’t manage without it. The drink made him desperate for money. Trouble was, it loosened his tongue.’

Joe wiped his mouth and said in a muffled voice, ‘He couldn’t help it!’

‘We all make choices, Joe.’

‘Easy for you to say. You weren’t asked to go to the morgue and look at…’

‘Nobody should have to do that,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Not for their little brother. It’s not fair. But then, life isn’t fair, Joe. We all know that.’

‘Sammy was a fine-looking boy,’ Joe muttered. ‘But they made such a mess of him with the razor…’ He choked back a sob.

Laurent gazed at the ceiling. Anything to avoid the little man’s distress. ‘None of us wants any unpleasantness.’

‘It was murder, plain and simple!’ Joe burst out. ‘There wasn’t no need to kill him! If only Ambrose would’ve warned Sammy, he’d have been sure to—’

‘Look, Joe, you’ve got to be reasonable. That isn’t how these things work. You’ve been around a long time, you know better than me. Nobody likes a copper’s nark.’

‘Sammy never blabbed to the police, not ever!’

‘He talked to that kid who scribbles for the newspaper, didn’t he?’

Joe scowled but said nothing. Laurent finished his brandy.

‘Stool pigeon, see?’

‘Sammy was no stool pigeon.’

‘Come on, Joe, there’s no getting away from what he did.’

‘Whatever you say, Ambrose didn’t have to…’

‘Look, Joe. That’s enough. You know I liked Sammy, everyone did. But he couldn’t keep his trap shut, that’s what did for him.’ Laurent leaned back in his chair. ‘Put yourself in the guvnor’s shoes.’

‘That piece of shit!’

‘Hey!’ Laurent said sharply. ‘Show some respect. Remember who pays your wages. And your ma’s rent. If the guvnor doesn’t crack down on a stool pigeon, people will start taking liberties. Sure as night follows day.’

‘But…’

Laurent banged his fist on the desk. ‘Listen to me. It was bad enough that the journo got away and Bob Earlam took a hell of a beating. The guvnor couldn’t simply smack Sammy’s legs and tell him not to be a naughty boy. People would say he’s gone soft in his old age, those years out of England have been the ruin of him. He had to make an example of Sammy. If not, who knows where we would all have been? You’ve got to have discipline.’

Joe was sullen.

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