“Do you really think Tommy Jay could be involved in this?” Joseph asked.
“I don’t know,” Ray replied. “But I think we should go and ask him, don’t you?”
10.
The legend of Tommy Jay walked tall before the man himself. A swaggering shadow cast over the streets of South East London, growing taller and taller as it reached out from Greenwich where the myths had first been born. Now it had blossomed to cover the stretch of London that ran south of the Thames from its Greenwich origins, out through Plumstead. Joseph and Ray, along with most of their colleagues, all shared the opinion that Tommy Jay hadn’t finished his empire-building. This was his adolescence. Violent, impulsive, unpredictable. If his empire ever reached maturity, he could be a feature of this part of the world for decades.
But with so many different people fighting for their bit of the capital, whilst he might be in the ascendancy, he hadn’t assured his legacy. He had curried favour with the locals, building the legitimate side of his empire in the glare of the flash bulbs of the press, promising to bring prosperity to all. His nightclubs, gyms and warehouses all stood as testament to the local boy done good. A story of hope and growth in post-war Britain. But that attention also made him the poster boy for London’s most wanted for the police and placed him firmly in the crosshairs of his rivals. For Tommy Jay to survive and thrive, he would have to beat both of those opponents.
Those opponents seemed to be far from his mind as Joseph and Ray first saw him. He sat casually leaning back, one leg crossed up over the other, so his heeled boot rested on the other knee, arms curled around the corner of a long bar bench that encircled the lounge area of The Hearty Goodfellow. The Hearty, as it was known locally, served as the centre of Tommy Jay’s empire and sat at the border of Greenwich and New Charlton, a couple of streets away from The Valley, the home ground of Charlton Athletic. He used it as a base of operations, from where he called out his orders to be carried out in this swathe of London and beyond.
A small wooden table stood in front of him. A half-finished pint of beer and today’s newspaper sat on it. He wore a smart military jacket made of a dark blue velvet, with large bold brass buttons holding it in place around his midriff. A black-and-white spotted scarf had been folded and tucked inside the jacket. His dark red trousers ran to his black boots, which narrowed to a fine point at the toe. At the base of each sleeve of the jacket, the slightest glimpse of a brown paisley shirt could be spotted. He looked more pop star than criminal and that certainly appealed to the young and hopeful.
He smiled as he saw the officers approach. They all knew each other well by now. Joseph and Ray had visited Tommy Jay before, whilst investigating many different crimes. They had got nowhere near to finding any evidence of his involvement. This meant that, with every new visit, Tommy Jay got more confident and therefore more cordial in the way he greeted the officers.
“My oh my,” he gushed. “If it isn’t my old mates, Ray and Joseph. Take a seat, sweethearts,” he swept his arm flamboyantly in front of him. If it hadn’t been for the two large men standing a little to either side of him, arms folded, menacing glares on their faces, it might have seemed positively friendly.
“Mr Jay.” Ray didn’t take up the offer. He stood, folding his arms and mimicking the position of the two bouncers Tommy Jay had employed. “What do you know about Boon’s Docks?”
“Lots of boats. A bit wet.” The reply dripped sarcastically from Tommy Jay’s mouth, before he brushed a hand through his thick brown mop top, moving his hair from where it had fallen in front of his face.
“Make much money down there?”
“Me? Probably. I can imagine dock boys love a little drink on a Friday night. I bet a fair chunk of their pay goes over my bars. Same could be said of a lot of industries around here. I’m extremely popular.”
“Any of these customers of yours ever leave you gifts?”
“Define a gift? Pack of cigarettes? Bottle of aftershave? Keys to an ocean liner?”
“Somewhere in between.”
“Well. I’d have to look at my inventory. I’m sure my associate Kenny can run down to my accountants and ask him to rustle up the books you’re looking for. Or if you’d like to leave a forwarding address, that could work. This isn’t really the sort of place two fine upstanding members of the policing community will probably want to be hanging around now, is it?”
“I could stay here all day,” Ray replied firmly.
Tommy Jay raised an eyebrow behind his fringe and looked at him questioningly. “Oh, that so, is it?”
“That’s so.”
“Well, take a seat then. I’ve got no problem having a beer with the man. Harold, hey Harold!” he called out towards the bar. An older gentleman, shaven head and thick forearms bulging out from either side of where his black braces cut into his bright white shirt. Tommy Jay continued his order. “Sort these fine p…” he let the ‘P’ hang for a moment. “People a couple of beverages of their choice. On the house, of course.”
Joseph and Ray sat, ignoring the invitation to order a drink.
“What do you know about a gentleman called Gerald Trainer?” Joseph asked.
“Trainer, Trainer, Gerald. I know that name.” Tommy Jay scratched his chin as he mulled the name over, then he snapped his fingers, bending forward and opening the paper. He shuffled through the pages of the paper, until he came to an article about the murder. “Oh, now, this is a shame. Real shame. I presume you cats are investigating this?”
“We are,” Ray said. “Tell me what you know about him.”
Tommy began to quote from the article in front of him. Ray held up his hand to stop him. “Don’t waste my time, Mr Jay.”
“Hey, just call me Tommy. We’re all friends here.”
“We’re really not.”
Tommy sighed. “Chill out would you, Ray? This doesn’t have to get personal, does it? I’m struggling to know what you’re asking of me here.”
“We want to know the extent of your relationship with Gerald Trainer,” Joseph replied.
“The extent of my…” Tommy Jay began to parrot back. “Listen. I don’t know what you’ve got twisted here, but the extent of my relationship with Gerald Trainer can be measured in column inches as far as I know.”
As far as I know. A tacit admission of a connection somewhere, but one that Tommy Jay would have deliberately kept at arm’s length. Joseph seized on it. “Is it possible that someone working for you had contact with Mr Trainer?”
“Is it possible? Of course it’s bloody possible. I’ve got loads of people on my books, and they’re all off doing their own bag, being social all over London. That’s what you do when you work in night life. I reckon that concept is probably alien for you, though. You don’t look like my sort of punter. Bit too square, you know?”
Joseph ignored the barb. “We’re looking into the possibility that Gerald Trainer may have been abusing his position within the docks, to either supply people with stolen goods or to smuggle items out of the country.”
“Oh, wow, they both sound bad. Really heavy stuff. No, I wouldn’t possibly know anything about that. Couldn’t know. Obviously. I can’t be getting involved with criminality, I’m an upstanding member of the local community.”
“Strange then, that a lot of criminality seems to happen in your orbit,” Ray pointed out.
“Does it? I’ve never really noticed.” Tommy Jay looked to the ceiling, scratching his chin again as he spoke.
“They do say ignorance is bliss.”
“No, no, Ray. Ignorance isn’t bliss. Far from it. Lots and lots of money is bliss.” Tommy Jay looked at him now. He leaned forward. “Power, officer, is bliss. Real power.”
“The sort of power that gets a man killed?” Ray and Tommy Jay glared at each other. Neither broke the stare.
