‘We dug it up by the allotment,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Believe it or not. Heaven knows what it was doing there.’
‘So we thought,’ says Ibrahim, ‘rather than hand it in to the police …’
‘A lot of admin,’ says Joyce.
‘… perhaps we might branch out and make ourselves a bit of money,’ continues Ibrahim.
‘Pensioners don’t have a lot of cash, old son,’ says Ron.
‘So what do you say?’ says Elizabeth. ‘We give you this bag of heroin, you sell it, and we split the proceeds?’
Jeremmy has been given pause for thought. But he’s not convinced. ‘I don’t like it, I don’t know you. Just give me my five grand and I’ll be on my way.’
‘He’s playing hardball,’ says Joyce. ‘You see it all the time on
Elizabeth offers the heroin to Jeremmy, who wets his finger and dips it in.
‘We are no fools,’ says Joyce. ‘Even though we might look it, and we’ve worked out that we have about twenty-five thousand pounds’ worth of heroin here.’
Ibrahim sees Jeremmy twitch. He knows there is an awful lot more than twenty-five thousand pounds’ worth of heroin in the bag. Greed will always get you.
‘That’s worth fifteen grand, tops,’ says Jeremmy.
‘I just told you we’re not fools,’ says Joyce.
‘What do you say, son?’ says Ron. ‘Help a gang of old fogeys live a little?’
‘Say, you give us five thousand, and you can keep the other twenty for yourself?’ suggests Ibrahim.
Jeremmy takes them all in one more time. This master criminal. ‘Five grand for this bag of heroin?’
‘If you’re agreeable?’ says Ibrahim.
Jeremmy is agreeable. Ibrahim is not surprised. He came here for five grand, and he’s going to walk away with ninety-five grand in profit.
‘And, not that we don’t trust you, dear,’ says Joyce. ‘But could you send us the five thousand by bank transfer before we let you go? Just so we’re sure.’
Jeremmy is packing the hundred thousand pounds’ worth of heroin into his holdall, clearly delighted to have pulled off the scam of the century. Bob hands him an account number, and Jeremmy opens his banking app.
Joyce zips up the bag for him. ‘Can I give you some Battenberg for the train home? The buffet at the station isn’t always open.’
‘No, thanks,’ says Jeremmy, and completes his transaction.
‘Your loss.’ Joyce looks over at Bob, who is looking at his computer screen.
Ibrahim has to hand it to Joyce. She had asked Donna’s permission, of course. While the heroin was in her flat, could she put it to work? ‘I know you’ll want it eventually,’ Joyce had said, ‘but would you mind terribly if we borrowed it for a bit?’
‘All there,’ confirms Bob, shutting his laptop.
Meaning that Jeremmy has just transferred five thousand pounds, every penny he has stolen from Mervyn, straight back into Mervyn’s bank account.
‘Off you pop,’ says Ron. Jeremmy doesn’t need asking twice, and is straight out of the door with his huge stash of heroin.
Joyce picks up her phone and rings Donna. ‘He’s on his way. Yes, the whole lot is in his holdall. Hope you’re not too cold behind that bush.’
‘You have a beautiful home,’ Garth says to Joyce, his gun pointing straight at her. He’s been here before of course.
They should have got here much earlier, but, as they’d arrived, there had been a long argument with a woman who said she was from the Coopers Chase Parking Committee and Garth, knowing when he had finally met his match, had had to park back out on the main road.
‘Thank you,’ says Joyce. ‘I have a cleaner for two hours on a Tuesday morning. I resisted for such a long t–’
‘Where is it?’ says Mitch Maxwell, gun also pointed at Joyce.
‘Could one of you point his gun at someone else?’ says Joyce. ‘Don’t point it at Elizabeth – she’s just lost her husband. Point it at Ron perhaps?’
‘I just lost my wife,’ says Garth to Elizabeth. ‘My condolences.’
Joyce turns back to Mitch. ‘I’m afraid you’re a bit late, Mr Maxwell. Half an hour ago it was here.’
‘What?’ says Mitch. He starts to visibly shake. ‘Who has it?’
‘You don’t look at all well,’ says Ibrahim. ‘If you don’t mind my saying?’
‘For the love of God,’ says Mitch. ‘Just tell me where it is.’
‘The police have got it,’ says Ron. ‘Taken in evidence.’
Mitch puts down his gun. ‘You gave it to the police? My heroin?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ says Ibrahim.
‘I’m dead, you understand?’ says Mitch. ‘You’ve killed me.’
Garth starts to laugh. He has an infectious guffaw, and soon Joyce is laughing with him, despite his gun still being pointed at her. He calms himself down and turns to a furious Mitch.
‘You still haven’t worked it out, Mitch? All this time, and you don’t have a clue what’s happening here?’
The young man they have just interviewed is called Thomas Murdoch. He said ‘no comment’ to every question except when Jill asked who had sold him the heroin and he said ‘five pensioners’, but even his solicitor looked dubious.
