Kirjahaku

Little could have warned the Oliver's of impending disaster, from early childhood Tony a darling child, full of love and tenderness, but sadly Tony unceremoniously offered indications of a hidden selfish and often violent character, when shockingly they found amongst the personal possessions he kept in an old trunk in his shared bedroom, a small room he slept top-n-tail with his younger brother, a number of very sharp knives and a 'starting' gun, which of course disturbed his family. None more so than during a gathering of the family for the compulsory Sunday morning breakfast together. It was a bitterly cold day just before Christmas; the normally peaceful Sabbath was interrupted by the sound of gunfire coming from the back garden. Everyone rushed out and saw Tony shooting into thin air, his father barked at him.'What the hell are you doing'? 'I'm in no mood for you fucking lot today that's for sure, fuck off and leave me alone'. Tony answered in a brash offhanded voice. 'Answer your father Tony.' His mother added pointing the grease covered spatula at him.'I'm just keeping my hands warm.' His answers were so nonchalant after such a violent display in front of the family, showing an early indication of tension simmering within their son. Tony was about fourteen at the time.It would have taken exceptional powers of prophecy to have predicted the consequences his volatile temperament would hold in store for the 'Oliver's, when in his mid fifties, Anthony Lewis Oliver set about reflecting in written word, what he called 'his turbulent life'.Some would say he'd reaped what he'd sown. The men and women he cast aside to 'get on in life' when he went in search of the bright lights of London's East and West End, which was easy in those days if you were good looking and used cunning as an invisible weapon. He got it all, had it all, kept it all, and then decided to give a lot of it back to their rightful owners.Tony Oliver's early life in Essex, involved an unwanted pregnancy, rich teenage years fuelled and funded by cons and theft, Farmer Frank, Brandon Hall, and a few other local homosexuals taught Tony well, Daniel West was the only reason to stay in Wickford, he'd keep him on the back burner, until he was ready. London brings villains and faces, Laurie Campbell, Bobby Van Wyk, Tosh Chandler, the Clergy, the Van-Wyk Diamonds, the Sapphire heist, and a fair few others; of course, Barbara Belle's arrival into his world added humour and a lasting one-sided friendship.Some lived, a few died, a few of natural causes - some things he would regret on the dark days, mostly he didn't give a shit about anyone but himself. Tony Oliver would use his fists, his mental power over people, plus luck and cunning, to reach his goals; he always scored a direct hit.

Daisy allowed him get in the funeral car before her, and not good form on his part considering it was her son's funeral, she really didn't give a flying fuck what the others said - because she wanted him in the first car. He slid over the seat and huddled uncomfortably waiting for the car to move away while fifty-one pairs of false eyelashes were watching him squirm from the garden of remembrance. Daisy Manners refuses to speak to him until the car glided away from her only child's funeral, she knew it was him, and she knew that he would never be convicted of the murder, but she really didn't give a flying fuck about it anymore either. She's Daisy Manners, bereaved mother and father to a devoted, if a little different son of thirty-four, decided to take matters into her own sweating hands.'Why did you want me to come with you Mrs Manners'? He nervously asked.'I didn't want to travel alone, shall we stop for a drink'. She replied with as much bravado as a woman could muster up when she was sitting in a car carrying her only child's killer.'Yes why not, we can stop where ever you want'. He choked.'He' looked out of the window and never saw the look of contempt and hatred in her eyes as she leant forward and took the knife from her bag; she concealed it down by the side of the seat and waited for her best moment, at her age she'd only get the one chance.'What did you do with my boys lips'?The words shook him but not that much, he'd almost guessed she'd sussed him out since the arrest - funny thing was, unlike other killers he really had got away with it, and Daisy knew she couldn't do a fucking thing about it. He turned and looked her in the eye.'Oh Daisy, they're mine, I wanted her from the start, I miss her so much she was the reason I did what I did to the rest of them, I was saving myself for Mandy's lips, you'll never know where they are'. He'd made no attempt to deny it, why should he, they'd arrested a man and had a rock solid case against him. He turned and looked out of the window, while she felt sick to the stomach thinking she might vomit but she'd come this far knowing this meeting with 'him' wouldn't be horrific, her son would never be forgotten because of him, but she intended having the last word with the cunt.The knife was in his heart before his eyes left the lingerie shop he'd been looking at as they passed with interest. The sharp shooting pain found his brain as the last breath left his lungs in death; before he expired he turned and saw Daisy smiling at him, even the chauffeur hadn't seen the lady sitting in the back with a knife in her hand, but then he'd told her he never looked in the rear view mirror while he was driving.'Go rot in hell you bastard'.Daisy sat back and enjoyed the rest of the journey through the countryside knowing she'd ridden the planet of one of the most evil and violent men in history. Lighting a fag first she opened the window and threw the money the mourners had collected for at a bus stop, a little boy was standing with his mummy.'Fucking money' she shouted 'treat yourself love'