Ozzy grinned at him then. 'Ta ta, son.'

He stood up and walked sedately from the rec room. Outside the screws were nowhere to be seen, but he expected that. It was as arranged, and if he arranged something then it happened. If only that little fucker had understood that, then things might have been very different.

He was whistling away to himself as he sauntered back to his wing and he waved at friends and pretend friends, who were all aware of what he had done.

He went into the toilets and dropped the chiv in the sink. He was followed seconds later by a gofer by the name of Paulie who poured a kettle of boiling water over it. Then he took it in a clean towel to the top landing, where he dropped the whole thing into the tea urn where it would be boiled and cooled overnight, making sure there was nothing on it that could be traced back to Ozzy or his counterparts.

For a few weeks there would be almost a seg time, which meant a segregation feel to the wing, a serious lock down and investigation. After all, a screw had been panhandled. But then it would all go back to normal and life would resume as before, minus one arrogant little fucker and minus any kind of retaliation.

Jimmy and Maggie were sitting with Stephanie's mother. Jimmy watched as his lovely little wife explained how sorry they were for what had happened to her daughter. They had brought the woman ten grand for her expenses, and the mother, who had sold herself until her daughter had been able to go out and earn for the both of them, was over the moon.

Stephanie's youngest son, a big, hefty four year old, looked suspiciously like Freddie and Jimmy knew that Maggie had noticed this as well. The boy was not a headcase like his father, in fact he was a kind, dear little boy, and Maggie felt the urge to cry as she saw the way he cuddled his grandma and kept asking where his mammy was.

She got the impression that Steph had been a good mother in her own way, and she also had the feeling that the grandma would dump the kids into care without a by-your-leave.

Maggie poured another cup of tea and sighed heavily. She felt annoyed that she had been dragged into all this, and also that her sister seemed to think that this girl's death meant nothing.

As she looked around the scruffy but clean kitchen it was as if the poor girl was in her sights. She had grown up in a kitchen like this, and in a different world this could have been her, her life, and maybe even her death.

She knew, unlike the majority of women on the planet, how easy it was to get caught up in the world of prostitution. She always laughed as she watched women in her salon talking about their lives, women who were literally kept by married men and still did not equate their lives with those of the women who were doing the same thing for any poor fucker with a few quid. And so many of the young girls she saw were the girlfriends of local villains and did not ever think that they were going to get older and might be traded in. In her mind they were no better than the Stephanies of this world, but she had the sense to keep that gem of wisdom to herself.

She had told Freddie exactly what she thought of him, and she knew that he would not let that go, not in a million years. She also felt all the better for saying it to him and getting it off her chest.

He had laughed at her, and she knew that he felt he had got one over on them all. Oh, he might look like he was contrite in the future but he wasn't. Now the shock had worn off he was back to his old self. They had saved his arse and it was all over as far as he was concerned. He had walked away, he always walked away from everything. And she had seen the way her sister had looked at him, as if he was a god.

Maggie had called him scum, and she had told him that if it wasn't for Ozzy she would have seen him rot in hell for what he had done.

Now Jimmy knew what she had done and she didn't care.

Then they had come here to this house full of sadness and hurt and she would never forgive either of them, Freddie or Jimmy, for dragging her into all this.

Freddie saw the murder on the news and smiled. He had known that Ozzy was going to take out the little bastard, and he was only glad that it had been now, and not another day. As luck would have it, he would be all segged up for a while and that meant no visits, no nothing.

He was a lucky man in more ways than one, in fact at times he wondered if he should change his name to Lucky Jackson. If he fell in shit he would come up smelling of Old Spice and dead whores. He laughed at the thought, and Jackie turned around and looked at him askance. He smiled at her, his most charming, his most innocent smile.

As he lay on his sofa, drinking vodka and wine and watching another serial-killer film with his son and wife, he was feeling almost back to his normal self.

The old whore was dead and that was that. It was all about protecting the living now, and he was alive and he was kicking. She was a fucking brass, a Tom, she was lucky to have lasted as long as she had. In fact, he had done the world a favour, she was a fucking blot on the landscape of life. His dad used to say that about him, well, he was dead and all. He had learned the same lesson before he went, and that was not to push him too far because he was not going to let anyone take him for a cunt.

Life was a series of kicks in the teeth, as his old mum had always said, and she was right. But that bitch Maggie was going to pay for the way she had spoken to him, and for the way she had looked at him, and she would pay with change to spare.

He had no reason to let them walk all over him because of a fucking brass, but he was shrewd enough to know that at the moment he had to swallow and wait his turn.

Because his turn would come, he was sure of that, and when it did she had better watch her well-tanned little arse.

Chapter Thirteen

In the time since Stephanie had died everything had slowly got back to normal, at least to all outward appearances. Anyone who could be bought off had been bought off, anyone who cared was already a thing of the past and the girls were all too frightened to open up that particular can of worms.

Jimmy had never been the same, and Freddie was more than aware of that. He didn't even stay for a drink with him any more unless he had to, and Freddie was fed up with it all. It was a brass, so what was the big problem? It was certainly a melon scratcher as far as he was concerned, anyone would think it was a real person who had died, someone with a life, or at least a life expectancy.

Jimmy was blanking him. He knew a blank when he got one, and he was getting a bit miffed with it all. It seemed young Jimmy could be one awkward ponce, an observation he had made many years ago. Now, though, it seemed Jimmy was under some kind of impression that what he thought actually mattered.

The atmosphere between them was still rife with accusation and even though they had never once discussed it since the fateful night, the blame was there whenever Jimmy looked at him and it was starting to really give him the hump.

This friendly mugging off had to stop, and Freddie was now ready to address it.

Since the night Jimmy had come to his house all testosterone and anger, he had made a point of keeping his trap shut. He knew that Jimmy had a point and he'd been quite happy to play the game. Now, however, it was over and time to look through the round window. Freddie was aware that it was still too soon to flex his muscles, so he smiled and shook hands and wished Jimmy well.

Outwardly at least.

But he did not have 'wanker' tattooed on his forehead, and he was tired of being treated like one. Inside, he was fuming.