his brother had gone into the garden to smoke. Russell didn’t say any more about the subject and so I too chose not to raise it. However, when Russell left my flat, Tate astounded me by saying that if his brother had started fighting with me then he would have joined in on my side. Up, down, happy, angry or depressed, there was no longer any way of telling which Tate I was going to encounter on any given day because of his drug addiction.
Later the same day, Tucker’s friend Carlton Leach knocked on my door. Leach claimed that he had been involved in an altercation with a black guy while working on the door at a private party in Battersea, south London. Apparently the man had taken exception to the way Leach had treated him and rather foolishly returned firing a gun. I say ‘rather foolishly’ because Leach and several members of his door team had soon overpowered the man and beaten him mercilessly. The police were called and after Leach had agreed to make a formal statement against the gunman he was arrested. During the fracas Leach’s vehicle had been shot several times and the police impounded it in the hope of gathering further evidence. I wasn’t sure why Leach had decided to pour his heart out to me and so I asked him how he thought that I could help.
‘It’s like this, Nipper. I desperately need a car to get back and forth to work in London,’ Leach said.
I had a second-hand red Ford Fiesta 1600 parked outside my home doing nothing, and so I said that he could take that. I had purchased the vehicle for my girlfriend, who was learning to drive. As she wasn’t due to take her test for two weeks I assumed that Leach would have returned it by then. The vehicle had not been taxed, so I gave Leach the log book and the money to tax it for me. While we were talking, I mentioned that my friend had just stolen a trailer full of quality leather jackets and he had given me 100 to sell on his behalf. Leach said that he would be able to sell 20 of them for me as a favour for loaning him the car. He picked 20 of the most expensive jackets, loaded them into the Fiesta and disappeared. I never saw the jackets or the vehicle again; I later learned that Tucker sold the car and the jackets the very same day.
At approximately 2200 hrs that night my house phone rang, and when I answered it Donna Garwood, Tucker’s 16-year-old mistress, asked me if I had seen him. I wasn’t in the mood for doing Tucker or his friends any favours and so I replied, ‘No, I have not seen him and nor do I particularly wish to see him. He is probably at home giving his missus one up the arse.’ I had never liked Garwood. She thought that she could talk to people how she wanted simply because she was Tucker’s bit on the side. I had awoken one morning to find her and Tucker asleep in the spare bedroom of my flat. I automatically assumed that it was his partner and that assumption was reinforced when I used to go to a house I assumed was Tucker’s and she was there. Only when Tucker invited me to his real home did I meet his partner, Anna, and discover that the other house was, in fact, Rolfe’s.
I am not the type of man that embraces deceit among alleged loved ones; my opinion of Garwood was therefore pretty low. As soon as I had told Garwood where Tucker might be she had slammed the phone down. Early the next morning, I was awoken by somebody hammering on my front door. Still half asleep, I opened it to find Tucker, Rolfe and a man named Peter Cuthbert standing outside. Without saying a word the three men walked into my home and when I asked them what they wanted Tucker made the sign of a gun with his two fingers against his head.
I assumed that he had come to pick up the 2.2 revolver that I had intended to shoot Redding with. I had wiped the weapon clean of all fingerprints since that night and hidden it in a cupboard, so I showed Tucker where it was. As soon as he had picked up the gun he grabbed my throat with his left hand, lifted me
Later the same day, Tucker’s friend Carlton Leach knocked on my door. Leach claimed that he had been involved in an altercation with a black guy while working on the door at a private party in Battersea, south London. Apparently the man had taken exception to the way Leach had treated him and rather foolishly returned firing a gun. I say ‘rather foolishly’ because Leach and several members of his door team had soon overpowered the man and beaten him mercilessly. The police were called and after Leach had agreed to make a formal statement against the gunman he was arrested. During the fracas Leach’s vehicle had been shot several times and the police impounded it in the hope of gathering further evidence. I wasn’t sure why Leach had decided to pour his heart out to me and so I asked him how he thought that I could help.
‘It’s like this, Nipper. I desperately need a car to get back and forth to work in London,’ Leach said.
I had a second-hand red Ford Fiesta 1600 parked outside my home doing nothing, and so I said that he could take that. I had purchased the vehicle for my girlfriend, who was learning to drive. As she wasn’t due to take her test for two weeks I assumed that Leach would have returned it by then. The vehicle had not been taxed, so I gave Leach the log book and the money to tax it for me. While we were talking, I mentioned that my friend had just stolen a trailer full of quality leather jackets and he had given me 100 to sell on his behalf. Leach said that he would be able to sell 20 of them for me as a favour for loaning him the car. He picked 20 of the most expensive jackets, loaded them into the Fiesta and disappeared. I never saw the jackets or the vehicle again; I later learned that Tucker sold the car and the jackets the very same day.
At approximately 2200 hrs that night my house phone rang, and when I answered it Donna Garwood, Tucker’s 16-year-old mistress, asked me if I had seen him. I wasn’t in the mood for doing Tucker or his friends any favours and so I replied, ‘No, I have not seen him and nor do I particularly wish to see him. He is probably at home giving his missus one up the arse.’ I had never liked Garwood. She thought that she could talk to people how she wanted simply because she was Tucker’s bit on the side. I had awoken one morning to find her and Tucker asleep in the spare bedroom of my flat. I automatically assumed that it was his partner and that assumption was reinforced when I used to go to a house I assumed was Tucker’s and she was there. Only when Tucker invited me to his real home did I meet his partner, Anna, and discover that the other house was, in fact, Rolfe’s.
I am not the type of man that embraces deceit among alleged loved ones; my opinion of Garwood was therefore pretty low. As soon as I had told Garwood where Tucker might be she had slammed the phone down. Early the next morning, I was awoken by somebody hammering on my front door. Still half asleep, I opened it to find Tucker, Rolfe and a man named Peter Cuthbert standing outside. Without saying a word the three men walked into my home and when I asked them what they wanted Tucker made the sign of a gun with his two fingers against his head.
I assumed that he had come to pick up the 2.2 revolver that I had intended to shoot Redding with. I had wiped the weapon clean of all fingerprints since that night and hidden it in a cupboard, so I showed Tucker where it was. As soon as he had picked up the gun he grabbed my throat with his left hand, lifted me
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