by AA Abbott
“I rather think Ross will be allowed to go too,” Lulu said. “Let’s have a coffee while we wait for Ted to ring.” She checked her smartphone. “There’s a place round the corner.”
It was two hours before Ross and Ted joined them. Ted, a stocky, sandy-haired fellow as ugly as Ross was handsome, immediately congratulated Amy.
“I have to hand it to you,” he said. “You gave them the man’s name and description.”
“Who do you mean?” Amy asked, bemused. She didn’t know the mysterious visitors’ names.
“Jebediah Bryant,” Ted said. “That’s who the police want now. If I’m not much mistaken, we’ll find they’ve issued an appeal for information on his whereabouts.”
“Jeb?” Amy said.
“The very same. Your evidence was, as it happens, corroborated by the police forensics team who found his fingerprint on a knife left at the scene.”
“What happened to Lizzie?” Amy asked. “No one told me. I hope she’s okay.”
“As okay as anyone can be when they’ve been seriously duffed up,” Ted said. “From what I can make out, he just gave her the rough stuff. Used his fists on her. Took it out on the cat as well. God knows why he left a knife. He didn’t cut her with it.”
“To threaten her,” Amy murmured, shuddering.
“Look, do you think we could buy some lunch?” Ross said peevishly.
“Amy and I have already eaten,” Lulu said. “I recommend the paninis. The coffee’s good too.”
“I could use a beer,” Ted said. “I see a few bottles over there. Are you up for it, Ross? Then we’ll have a de-brief.”
“Get a large glass of white wine for Amy too, will you?” Ross said. For the first time, he smiled at her.
“I honestly don’t think the boys in blue will bother you again,” Ted said when the food and drinks had arrived. “They’ve released you without charge. Now they’ll focus on finding Jebediah and building a case against him.”
“We don’t know what the victim will say,” Lulu cautioned.
“True,” Ted agreed. “Jebediah obviously meant to finish her off. She’s in a coma, I believe, but expected to recover. That’ll be a shock for him. But whatever the old biddy tells them, it lets our clients off the hook, doesn’t it?”
“We must find Kat,” Ross said. “If Jebediah’s after her, he won’t make the same mistake twice.” A shadow crossed his face and he stared at Amy. “You say he isn’t Kat’s boyfriend, but what is he to her? Why do you think he’s doing this?”
“I don’t know,” Amy said, blurting out, “I just can’t make sense of it.”
Lulu touched her arm again. “The police will.”
“What exactly has been going on?” Ross said. He looked confused and miserable.
Amy took a deep breath. How could she ever have imagined she could hide the truth from him? Now the police were involved, everyone’s secrets would be revealed. “There are other people looking for Kat,” she began.
She told him about the visitors to the flat, Jeb’s frequent presence and the sham marriages. “This is just a guess,” she said, “but I think Jeb might have played a part in the marriages. Maybe he introduced the happy couples. The last groom was a chef from Bangladesh. Kat would never normally meet someone like that. The only foreigners she knows are the rich gamblers who play at Diamonds.”
“Could they be involved in the wedding scam?” Lulu asked.
“Unlikely,” Ted interrupted. “The UK wants to attract the wealthy, not throw them out. Are you saying, Amy, that Jebediah is a shady character who would know the other sort of foreigner?”
“Exactly,” Amy agreed.
“I bet Jebediah forced Kat into those marriages,” Ross said hotly. “Why else would she make such a massive error of judgement?”
Because she saw pound signs in front of her eyes, Amy was tempted to say. Instead, she asked for another glass of wine.
“Well, old boy,” Ted said, “it’s been good to catch up with you. Lulu and I are back to London now. There’s a court case in the morning. No peace for the wicked.”
“You can call us if you need us, though,” Lulu said.
Ross ordered more drinks at the counter. “That wasn’t how I planned to spend my day,” he admitted ruefully. “I wish I’d known more about this. I had no idea Kat was in such dreadful danger, or what you’d been through, for that matter.”
“I can understand why she doesn’t want to be found,” Amy said.
“Yes,” he said. “Well, we won’t find her today. Let’s head back to the Malmaison. I fancy playing more poker. Ted’s fees don’t come cheap.” He smiled at her for the second time. “We should have dinner together later, then we can work out what to do next. Marty Bridges is our next line of enquiry, I think.”
“Be careful, Ross,” Amy said. Her irritation towards him was diminishing. At last she felt they were a team, and suddenly, his welfare was a concern. “We don’t know what Marty looks like. He could be the man we saw in Harborne – the man who held a knife to my throat.”
“I’m not convinced,” Ross said. “He’s a businessman in Birmingham. Why would he be skulking in shadows in a London car park? I’ll google him. I’m sure I can find an image.”
Chapter 24 Shaun
“I could have done this by myself,” Jeb grumbled.
Shaun winced at the thought, although his frustration was mounting. He’d wasted a full day thanks to Marty Bridges, and now they’d been sitting for twenty minutes on uncomfortable plastic chairs in Bridges’ reception lobby.
It was even blander and more boring than AKD’s. Unlike AKD, it was unmanned, with no decorative receptionist to catch Shaun’s eye. Jeb appeared restless, probably coming down from yesterday’s amphetamines. Despite the lobby sign urging them not to smoke, the younger man was puffing on a cigarette. He continued when the shabby white office door opened and a short, balding fellow emerged.
Shaun knew the type well. Bridges would be stupid and opinionated. He would have inherited his business from his father, not quite managed to run it into the ground, and be full of his own importance.
Bridges first words to them didn’t disappoint. “There’s no smoking on my premises, thank you.”
“Jeb, go outside,” Shaun said. Jeb complied, glaring at both of them.
“You phoned before,” Bridges said. “I haven’t changed my mind, I’m afraid. I can’t spare any Snow Mountain for you. I’ve got a range of flavoured vodkas that’s popular in the clubs, though. Why not taste a few of those while you’re here?”
“Do you know who I am?” Shaun asked, allowing an edge of menace to creep into his voice.
Bridges actually laughed. “Yes,” he said, “you own a seedy dive in the backstreets of London. That’s exactly the sort of place where I don’t want Snow Mountain on display. It’s a premium product for a reason.”
“You need to show more respect.” Jeb, returning to the lobby, towered over Bridges.
Shaun looked meaningfully at the CCTV camera, a silent watchdog in a corner of the room. They had to be careful. If Bridges allowed them into his office, Jeb could be more persuasive.
“It’s not a problem,” he said. “Yes, I would like a tasting, please.”
“Come on through.” Bridges gestured to the door. A corridor stretched behind it. Bridges took them to a heavy oak door with the name ‘Mr Bridges’ etched onto a brass nameplate. Inside, his office was wood-panelled and crammed with imposing furniture, as Shaun had expected it would be. “Sit down.” Bridges pointed to black leather chairs clustered around a polished table.
Shaun’s bones were aching from nearly half an hour in a moulded plastic seat. He sank gratefully into a padded chair. He noticed Jeb still appeared on edge.
“You see?” Bridges waved a hand at his desk, adorned with six brightly coloured bottles. “I’ve got a plain one, lemon, chocolate, chilli – that’s popular with the lads – vanilla and peach. You’re not driving are you, gentlemen?”
“I am,”
Shaun said. He had no intention of sampling the disgusting, sticky drinks. Jeb was welcome to do so; it might calm him down.
“I’ll have a cup of tea made for you.” Bridges turned his back to them. “Let me get some glasses from the cupboard first.”
“Now,” Shaun ordered. Jeb retrieved his knife from his sock.
Bridges nearly dropped his shot glasses when he saw it. “Why are you waving that around?” he demanded.
“For fun,” Jeb grinned, advancing on his prey.
“Not so fast, Jeb,” Shaun said sharply, stepping between them to form a barrier. “Remember, we’re here to get information, that’s all.”
“And I thought you just wanted a drink,” Bridges said, flashing a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.
“I’ll have vodka too,” Shaun said. “Twenty four bottles of Snow Mountain.”
“Then I’d better get the keys to the warehouse,” Bridges said, sidling around to his rather grand office desk and opening a drawer.
Chapter 25 Amy
Relieved to be out in the fresh air, Amy walked back to the hotel with Ross. Although it was only a short distance, perhaps a mile, she felt tired. Fatigue was flooding into her as her tension released and the wine took effect. “I’m going to crash out as soon as we’re back.”
“Why don’t you go to the hotel spa?” Ross suggested unexpectedly. “Ladies seem to like them.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Ross said magnanimously. “Charge it to your room. I’ll pick up the tab.”
Amy didn’t need telling twice. An aromatherapy massage was just what she needed after the rigours of the day. She was happy and relaxed when she joined Ross for dinner in the hotel restaurant.
“Shall we start with a bottle of white wine?” Ross asked.
She was seeing a different side to him now. The old Ross would have told her what wine they were having, if indeed he’d ordered any.
“I found Marty’s profile on LinkedIn,” Ross said, “complete with photo. I can assure you categorically that he is not the man we saw in that pub. Having established that, I phoned him to say I had a business proposition for him.”
“Do you?” Amy could barely disguise her disbelief.
“Of course not,” Ross said. “He agreed to a meeting, though. We’ll see him tomorrow at ten.”
“We still don’t know much about him,” Amy said, “except that Lizzie said he was hard as nails.” She doubted Marty would be well-disposed towards them.
“Don’t worry,” Ross said. “I’m used to dealing with difficult people. I have to handle Cari every day for starters.”
“She’s your boss, isn’t she; the short woman with bright red hair? I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You’ve met Parveen.”
“Parveen is the nursery slopes,” Ross said gloomily. “Cari is a grade A bitch. In medieval times, redheads were burned as witches. I wish we could still do it today.”
“Tactful as usual, Ross,” Amy said, pointing to her own auburn locks.
Ross refused to let her crush his ego. “Can’t you take a joke? Relax, Amy. We’ve just escaped an attempted murder charge and we should celebrate. Forget the white wine. Let’s order champagne.”
He seemed almost charming after that, although the champagne undoubtedly helped. Amy found herself telling Ross her life story.
“I really thought a degree in marketing would be the passport to my dream job,” she said, “but churning out policy literature for Parveen definitely isn’t it.”
“What’s your degree?” Ross asked, topping up her glass.
“A 2:2 in marketing from the University of the West of England,” Amy said.
“There’s your answer,” Ross said. “You need a first for the best jobs, like the actuarial stream at Veritable.”
Amy chose her words carefully. Actuarial work featured at the foot of her wish list, along with sewage disposal and lap dancing. “Yes, Dad said that. In his words, I was lucky to be working at a large company like that with a Desmond. That’s what he calls a 2:2. It’s so unfair, though. Dad doesn’t even have a degree, and nor does Mum. She started one, but gave it up when she got pregnant.”
“That wasn’t your mother we met at Rustica, was it? She didn’t look like you.”
“No, that’s Dad’s mid-life crisis girlfriend.”
“I don’t blame him,” Ross grinned. “From what I saw of her, she’s gorgeous.”
Amy giggled. He’d had his nose down Deirdre’s cleavage. “Behave,” she said. “Dee is Dad’s age. They knew each other at school.”
“They were holding hands like teenagers,” Ross said. “Your father looked like he’d done well for himself, and I don’t mean pulling Dee. That was a Savile Row suit, I’m positive.” He smirked. “I have a few myself. What sort of work does he do?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “It’s really boring.” Almost as tedious as actuarial work, she nearly said. “He’s an IT troubleshooter for a bank. He can find out anything from an IT system. He describes himself as the bank’s equivalent of GCHQ, which makes him sound a thousand times more exciting than he really is.”
“Boring jobs pay the bills,” Ross said.
She felt a pang of pity for him. That statement was tantamount to saying his life was over. He was only thirty or so. “I won’t let myself get trapped,” she said. “As soon as we’re back in London, I’m looking for another job. I’ve had enough of being shouted at by Parveen.”
“I’ll help you,” Ross said, to her astonishment. “I’ll ask my friends if they know of anything.”
“You mean the old boys’ network?”
“If you want to call it that,” Ross said dismissively. “Look, the champagne’s all gone and we haven’t even had our main courses yet. How about another bottle? You only live once.”
The champagne perfectly complemented the lobster which Amy had ordered. She was suddenly ravenous, asking for both cheese and a pudding afterwards.
“I like to see a woman with an appetite,” Ross said approvingly. He reached for her hand across the table, and held it. His touch was firm, his hand pleasantly cool. “It’s been a long day,” he said. “We should be gentle with each other.”
Amy gazed into his eyes. “I hardly know you,” she murmured.
“What is there to say?” Ross asked. “I went to boarding school, Cambridge University and Veritable Insurance. One institution after another. I wasn’t an only child like you, but I might as well have been. I’m much younger than my sisters, and they weren’t home much either. We were all sent away to school.”
“How old were you, Ross?” Amy asked. She blinked away tears of sympathy. She couldn’t avoid a deep sense of compassion for the innocent child Ross must have been, pushed inexorably onto a treadmill when he should have been at home with his family.
“Eight when I first went.” His blue eyes were calm, entirely lacking in self-pity. “One either sinks or swims. You can guess which I chose.”
He was stroking her hand now. “I know you think me cold, Amy. That’s my outer shell, the façade I choose to present to the world. There’s passion within, but I keep it well-buried.” His eyes appealed to her. “I’m saying too much, I think. It must be the champagne talking.”
“No,” Amy said, flattered that he should choose to open his heart to her. “You can say anything you like. I’m your friend, Ross, you know that.” Whatever their differences before, they had worked together as a team today. He’d not only arranged a lawyer to help her, he’d been genuinely shocked to hear about the sham marriage, Jeb and the two sinister strangers. They could trust each other.
Ross lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, as if a moth had swept its wings across her skin. He was interrupted by the arrival of dessert, an indulgent chocolate confection. “Enjoy,” he said.
Once the meal was over, Ross asked if Amy wanted to go to the bar.
“I’ll go to my room,” she said. “It’s been a long
day, as you say.”
“I’ll walk you up there.” Ross placed a hand lightly on the small of her back. It was still there as the lift whisked them to their floor, and as she unlocked her door. “May I come in?” he asked.
She turned her face to his. For once, Ross was a picture of humility, his mouth quivering and his blue eyes pleading. During her year in London, she’d longed for a boyfriend, any man at all. Now, a handsome, rich young man was interested in her. True, he hadn’t always behaved well, but today he’d explained why. He’d been attentive and kind. “Yes,” Amy said simply. She should give him a chance.
As soon as they were alone in the room, he enveloped her in his arms and kissed her lips, gently at first and then with increasing passion. His tongue slid inside her mouth, probing the tip of hers. Amy flushed, overwhelmed by desire. Giddy with wine and Ross’ kisses, she began to feel unsteady on her feet. Ross seemed to sense it. He manoeuvred her to the huge, king-size bed.
“Sit down,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She let him guide her, accepting his kisses and the way her clothes seemed simply to slip off as he caressed her. Soon, she was lying naked on the bed and Ross, also naked, was stroking her shoulders, breasts and thighs.
“You’ve got quite a bush,” he murmured, gently parting the lips where her thighs met.
“And is that a problem?” Amy asked dreamily, wondering for a fleeting moment if she really should have saved her lunch money for a wax last week.
“It just stops me doing some of the things I might like,” Ross said, “but I can see from your eyes what you really want, and that’s no problem at all.”
She was admiring his toned, muscled body, and he’d noticed. Tentatively, she touched his groin, seeing he was larger than her other lovers. They’d hardly been a representative sample of the human race, she thought ruefully; she could count them on the fingers of one hand.
“I think I can satisfy you,” Ross grinned. “Wait – are you on the pill, Amy? I thought not. Let me slip on a condom.” He grabbed his trousers and reached into a pocket. Putting on the condom with ease, he was inside her in one deft movement.
