Jack felt an inordinate need to cry. Lenny Scott had been everything to him, and he had been cut down in his prime, never to reach his full potential. It was a crying shame because that boy had been going places and he had been going to make sure of that personally. He was devastated as he carried on calling round; there was still a hope that ponce Smithson had got it all wrong. Fucking detective? He couldn’t sniff out his own fucking arse! He was hardly the sharpest knife in the drawer. But as time went on Jack began to lose every shred of the hope he’d been clinging to.

Chapter Seventy-Six

Reggie was still reeling from the knowledge that Lenny Scott was dead. It was unbelievable. He loved Lenny like he had never loved another person in his whole life. It just could not be possible that he was gone from him.

As Reggie pulled up at Jack’s yard, he checked his face in the mirror. He could see the shock and desolation in his eyes, and he felt the urge to cry once more. But that was a luxury he would have to forgo until he was locked inside his own flat where no one could see him and could guess the strength of his grief. How would he live without Lenny: the one person who had made everything in his life make sense? And, more importantly, who had done the dirty deed? If it was anything to do with Jack’s businesses with they’d find out soon enough and exact retribution. But maybe Lenny had pissed off some fucker Reggie knew nothing about. He had to box clever, whatever the lie of the land. His hands were shaking as he lit a cigarette.

Chapter Seventy-Seven

‘I think that’s him, that’s definitely his suit . . .’

Sharon felt like she was going to throw up. Her Lenny, her husband, the only man she had ever loved, was destroyed. He had been completely obliterated. She knew one thing for sure: this was not a random fucking mugging in any way, shape or form. The way the Filth were acting told her that this was a big deal.

Lenny’s body was broken completely. It looked all wrong, misshapen, like he had been crushed. She could see it even under the white sheet the mortuary had covered him with. There was something very wrong and she could not voice her thoughts, not to the Old Bill anyway. That would come later. Much later. She would have to talk to Jack and she would have to talk to fucking Reggie.