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The morning rush hour had passed and the high street was settling into another busy South London Day: Street drinkers began begging, harassed mum's pushed their baby's in buggies toward bargains, preachers claimed their spaces, muggers prowled – and all the while traffic raced to the scream of police sirens – The Camberwell Chorus.
But this was my manor, and I walked the streets with a knowing stride.
###
Passing the café, I popped my head in to see Granny Grace having her morning cup of milky tea. "You joining me for a cuppa sweetheart?" She shouted.
"No, just saying good morning; busy day ahead."
"Come here sweetheart, you can spare a minute with Granny Grace," she said, waving me in.
I took a seat and let her talk, "I'll be there tonight, at the warehouse." She moved in closer, "The Mystery Man invited me; he said The Trinity needed to be present, you know: Goodie, Grace and Badoe." She looked around, slurped her tea and continued, "I told him straight, that I'd done away with that Goodie psycho, that he's brown bread: dead. But he says it's the son I need to sort out, young, Dylan Goodie!"
She looked worried, "Thing is, I can't kill Dill, I'm his legal guardian. Soon as he's slaughtered the cops will be at my door asking questions; and I don't wanna spend my final years rotting in the slammer, sweetheart. No, I've got more murder in me before I leave this earth." She said, draining her cup, a residue of milky tea flowing down the rivulets of her chin wrinkles.
My ears pricked up, "Dill – that's what Josh calls him."
"Course it is, what's your point?" She asked.
"So you and Josh talk?"
"Course we do, sweetheart – he's smitten with you, I tell ya. He won't shut is trap, talking about you all the time; making plans for your future and all. You're a lucky young un, I can tell ya that much sweetheart," she said, giving me a giant gummy grin and wink.
I changed the subject, "What makes you think the Mystery Man wants you to Kill Dill?" I asked.
She looked at me like I'd just asked the most stupid question, "It's bleeding obvious, innit? He wants one of us three to do away with Dylan, cos he's the one that they all believe in, you know, all those traffickers who import the girls. She tapped her stick as if to emphasize her point, "So, take out the big boss, they lose control and the girls are likely to be released, makes sense, don't it?" She said, as if I should obviously know what she's talking about.
I nodded a slightly dismissive 'yes.' Because, I just knew that killing Dylan wasn't the solution to this problem.
