Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set

by Saffina Desforges

  “Please, Jez, let me explain.” Amusement dancing across Nikki’s face. She crossed to the youth, taking his hand gently. “Kevin, it’s okay. This is Jez. My boyfriend.”

  Harris felt the grip on his bent arm release and he jumped back across the bed to relative safety, turning on Nikki. “What the hell is going on? Who is this sick bastard?”

  Nikki hugged the youth. “Jez, say hello to Kevin. My little brother.”

  Chapter 42.

  “It’s complicated.” Tears starting to sparkled in Nikki’s eyes.

  “Too right it’s complicated! I nearly stuck my dick up your brother’s arse!” Harris pushed the empty take-away cartons to one side, leaning across the coffee table to Nikki.

  Nikki turned on the waterworks again. “Jez, please don’t be like that. I hate it when you’re mean to me.”

  “Mean to you? You’ve got a raving iron for a brother, that I nearly copped off with, and I’m being mean to you?” Harris sank back in his chair. He brushed a hand through his hair. Puffed his cheeks out. “What is he, some kind of tranny?”

  Nikki looked up at Harris with big panda eyes. “He’s just a bit different, that’s all.”

  “A bit? Anyway, if he’s your bloody brother what was he doing in your bed?” Harris jolted upright as a new possibility occurred to him. “Oh my God! This better not be some incest thing!”

  “He was just sleeping.”

  “In your bed?”

  “Jez, he lives here with me.”

  “In your bed?” Harris repeated.

  “He can’t cope on his own. He’s not all there.”

  “That’s bloody obvious. But why is he in your bed, wearing your clothes?”

  Nikki reached an arm around Harris’s shoulder. “Jez, it’s nothing like that, I promise. He’s autistic, he gets fixated on things. He doesn’t mean any harm.”

  “I knew an autistic kid at school. He didn’t dress up in his sister’s bleeding nightie!”

  “He was abused when he was little. He never got over it.”

  “I won’t get over it either.”

  Nikki put on the pleading eyes. “He’s my brother, Jez. I’m all he’s got. He’s all I’ve got.”

  “You’ve got me.” Harris leaned across the table, taking Nikki’s hands. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

  Nikki blinked back more tears. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”

  “I don’t. But I’m trying. For you. Why haven’t I seen him here before now?”

  “He goes to stay with our uncle a couple of times a week, to give me a break. That’s when I invite you round. Those nights when you’ve wanted to come round and I’ve made up excuses… It was just that I had Kevin here with me. I wasn’t sure you were ready for him.”

  “No-one could be ready for that! But he was still sleeping in your bed.”

  “Only while I was out. There’s a tiny box-room next to the bathroom. If you look in there you’ll see he’s got a little bunk made up. But he can’t watch telly in here.”

  “Okay, I get the telly bit, but why is he dressed up in your clothes? Is he like, you know, ill or something?”

  “No, Jez, he’s not ill. He’s just different, and if you can’t handle that, then I guess it’s over between us.” Nikki gripped his hands tight. “I mean it. Is that what you want?”

  Harris took a second to consider. “No. I really like you, Nikki. I mean, really like you. I don’t want us to split up.”

  Nikki put her arms around Harris’s neck. “I love you, Jez. I need you.” She reached across and grabbed at his crotch.

  Harris pushed her hand away. He gave her a watery smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I love you too, Nikki. But I have to go.”

  “Go?”

  “I’m supposed to be parked up in my car safe-guarding a gents’ bogs. If someone loses their dick tonight the Guv’ll have my balls on a plate in the morning.”

  Chapter 43.

  “Grandma, look! I’ve got new shoes for Mummy’s birthday party!” Ruby proudly displayed her red slip-ons.

  “Well aren’t they lovely, darling?” Cynthia Crichton beamed. “And the same colour as your name!”

  “My name isn’t red,” objected Ruby. “That’s what some people call Cassie,” she added with a knowing smile. “Mummy hates it when they call her that.”

  “Well you just be sure to call Cassie Cassie, not Red,” said Cynthia. “We don’t want you upsetting Mummy on her birthday, do we.”

  “It’s not today, Grandma.”

  “Only two days to go, sweetheart.” To Red, “I presume everything’s in hand?”

  Red shrugged. “Search me, Cyn. I’m totally out of the loop. All I know is it’s a quiet family affair. Only Elizabeth Andrews on the guest list. Pip’s got some catering outfit laying on a barbecue for us. Honestly, as if we couldn’t manage to burn some burgers on our own.”

  “You know what Philippa’s like, dear,” Cynthia sympathised. “She gets it off her father, God bless him. He was exactly the same. Worse, if anything.”

  “Pip never really talks about her dad,” Red said. She left it at that, hoping Cynthia might rise to the bait. She didn’t.

  “I expect we’ll have a fancy bash for Philippa’s fortieth,” she said. “It’s not that far away now.”

  “Is Mummy forty?” Ruby asked.

  Red grabbed her and playfully put her hand over the child’s mouth. “You’ll be in big trouble if you say that! It’s a year or two away yet, Rubes.”

  “Are you forty, Cassie?”

  “Cheek! Of course I’m not. Not this year, anyway. So how old do you think I am, gorgeous?”

  Ruby carefully looked Red up and down, giving the question due consideration. “A hundred and one. And a quarter.”

  “Charming,” said Cynthia. “Best not ask how old you think I am then. Now, are you going to put those new shoes up in your bedroom until Saturday?” It was more a statement than a question.

  They watched Ruby scoot up the stairs.

  “Philippa left me a hundred pounds in an envelope on the table,” Cynthia said. “And a note. Buy a new dress. A hundred pounds! I could replace my entire wardrobe for that. And why would I want a new dress if it’s only us six munching sausages in the back garden?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder, too,” Red agreed. “When Pippa finishes work early to get her hair done it sets alarm bells ringing.”

  Ella looked up from her smartphone. “Me and Cass are going to buy some clothes on Monday, Grandma. Bank holiday shopping.”

  “And Pip’s taking Jack and Darren to the Trocadero,” Red added

  “Philippa? The Trocadero? I’ll believe that when I see it. But hold on, who’s looking after Ruby? I thought Richard and Lucy were away?”

  Red shot an embarrassed glance at Cynthia. “I thought you were.”

  Cynthia let out a pained sigh. “That daughter of mine…”

  “It’s not a problem, is it?”

  “No, no, no. I simply adore having Ruby stay with me. But it would be nice to be consulted first.”

  Chapter 44.

  “There ya go, treacle. That’ll be fifteen quid on the nail.”

  Pippa looked up from the folder in her hand. “Already?” She began putting the file back in her case. A glance out of the window. A double-take. “Excuse me, but this isn’t the place. I distinctly said Tony & Sascha’s, on Charles Street. Near the Saudi Embassy?”

  “This is Charles Street, treacle. There’s the Saudi place over there. And that,” he pointed to the window they had stopped outside, “is Tony & Sascha’s. Or rather, it was ’til a few weeks back. Under new management, love.”

  Pippa stared through the glass at the garish window display. “Oh my giddy aunt.” Her chocolate eyes took in the gaudy display, Rapunzel’s? What were they thinking? I am not going in there!” She checked her watch. “How will I get an appointment elsewhere at this time of day.”

  “I expect they’ll be honouring the book
ings from the previous owners,” the taxi driver said helpfully.

  “Possibly so,” Pippa agreed, referring to her watch again as if she might have been mistaken the first time. “But I’m not sure I want to keep it.”

  “You might be pleasantly surprised.”

  “And I might end up the laughing stock of the Old Bailey when those cowboys have finished with me.”

  “Why’s that then? Are you a clerk there or summat?”

  Pippa looked mortally wounded. “I am a barrister, thank you very much. Queen’s Counsel.”

  “Look on the bright side,” the taxi driver grinned. “If they mess up your barnet you can always keep your wig on.”

  “This is no laughing matter,” Pippa assured him.

  “Nor’s that traffic warden heading my way. I’m on double yellas here, love, so make up your mind what you’re gonna do.”

  Pippa thrust a twenty pound note onto the coin tray and hurriedly climbed out. “Yes, don’t worry about my hair.” She pulled out the extension on her trolley case, waving the change away. “Invest in some elocution lessons.”

  “I love you too, treacle.”

  The taxi driver sped away as the traffic warden arrived. Pippa shot the warden an accusing glance. “Did you know Tony & Sascha’s had changed hands?”

  The warden looked at her. “I’m sorry?”

  “Never mind,” Pippa huffed. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. A raucous buzzer announced her entrance. Not a good omen. Whatever happened to that lovely tinkling bell they used to have? She pulled her case across the threshold and stepped up to the glass counter made up to look like a castle turret. A long sigh. Another check of the watch.

  A voice behind a curtain said, “Be with ya in a sec’, dahlin’.”

  Pippa cringed. A third look at the watch.

  A twenty-something male appeared, dressed in a frilly silk shirt and impossibly tight trousers. Pippa kept her eyes high. He beamed a smile. “Ms. Crichton-Ward, I hope?”

  “Why, yes.”

  “Tony told us all about you.”

  “He did?”

  “He most certainly did, dahlin’. I’m Frederick, by the way. But you can call me Fred or Rico. Welcome to Rapunzel’s.”

  “Yes, Rapunzel’s,” Pippa repeated with undisguised dismay. She cast a disdainful glance around the room. “You do not appear to have any clients. Should I take that as a warning sign?”

  Fred took the question in his stride. “Early closing, Thursdays.”

  “Oh. Does that mean you’re closed?” Pippa asked, half -hopeful.

  “Not to you, dahlin’. I’ve stayed on special for ya.”

  “Really?”

  “Sascha told us you were one of their best customers. Five years, regular as clockwork.”

  “Every six weeks,” Pippa confirmed. “Tony has been attending my needs for many years, as you say. Normally I would not let anyone but he touch my hair, but I’m having a party this weekend, and I couldn’t possibly fit in another appointment somewhere else at this late hour.”

  Fred arched an eyebrow. “Sister, anything Tony could do, I can do better.”

  Pippa ran her gaze up and down the stylist, unconvinced.She looked around the salon again. Cartoon figures of witches and princes and impossibly long-haired blondes decorated the walls. “I seem to be caught between a rock and hard place.”

  Fred gestured to a row of red velvet-backed chairs. “Don’t be like that, dahlin’. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Take that seat there and I’ll be right with you. Here, let me put your shopping somewhere safe.” He grabbed her trolley-case before she could respond. “I’m just making coffee. Interested?”

  Pippa wrinkled her nose. “Instant, I presume?”

  “Now, now, dahlin’. I’ll have you know our coffee is better than Starbucks.”

  “Well that’s no great achievement, is it.”

  Fred’s face broke into a wide smile, revealing perfect teeth. “How about giving us a chance before passing judgement?”

  “So what happened to Tony & Sascha?”

  “Was that a yes to coffee?”

  “I’m not sure I want to risk it. Tony made such a wonderful brew. I doubt yours will be as good, somehow.”

  “Better, dahlin’. We’ve got his old espresso machine out back still, but now it comes with our expertise.I used to work at Café Nero, I’ll have you know. One of their top baristas before I took up this lark.”

  “Café Nero?” Pippa reconsidered. “Well that’s different. A double-shot latte?”

  “You got it.”

  “So what happened to Tony and Sascha?” Pippa said to the curtain. “They gave no indication to me that they were moving on.”

  “Bankrupt,” Fred said in a loud whisper, even though the salon was empty. “This place was going for a song. Fixtures and fittings included.”

  Which you promptly replaced with this dreadful circus show, Pippa thought to herself. Out loud, “I would never have credited it. They seemed to be doing so well.”

  “Good at what they did, but apparently some of the staff had their hands in the till. I don’t know the details but we won’t be making the same mistake.We got rid of everyone except the errand boy. Felt sorry for him, and Tony said he was trustworthy. Too stupid to steal anything, more like. And apparently the clientele like him.”

  “I’m glad,” Pippa said. “He may not be the brightest kid on the block but he was always polite and smiling. And he did not talk too much,” she added, hoping Fred might take the hint.

  The stylist reappeared with a steaming latte glass. “There ya go, dahlin’. Get your laughing gear ’round that.”

  Pippa received the coffee gratefully. She took a tentative sip. She nodded her approval. “Mmm. One down, two to go.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The three things that will determine if I remain a loyal customer here, despite the décor.”

  “Three?”

  “Well, full marks for the coffee. Obviously the hair will be number two.”

  “And the third?”

  “You will kindly refrain from calling me dahlin’.”

  Chapter 45.

  Red hurried through the security door just as Terri Miller was leaving. “The Super’s looking for you, Guv,” Terri said by way of greeting.

  “Deep joy,” Red muttered. To Terri’s back, “Hey, where’s the fire?”

  “Major emergency,” Terri shouted back. “The coffee machine’s not working.”

  “Make mine a doubles shot. “ Red’s smile faded as she approached the Super’s office.Blake was always so difficult to read. Even Bill Andrews had said that, and the two of them were close colleagues for years. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She stepped in at the invitation and ventured a raised eyebrow in the Super’s direction.

  “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

  “Take a seat, Cass.” Blake fixed his eyes on Red. “Please tell me you have something for me?”

  “I wish. The team are doing everything humanly possible, but we’re struggling, Sir. The MO aside, the only link we have between the two murders is both victims were into escort agencies. The silver lining is that the second victim rules out the first being politically motivated. ”

  “But you’ve narrowed down the field,” Blake said, more a statement than a question.

  Red hesitated. “Actually, Sir, we’ve had to widen it.”

  “Widen it?”

  “We have a lone female seen leaving the hotel about the time the murder took place. We’re considering two people, working together. The girl acting as a lure. Finding the victims through escort agencies.”

  “That’s a rather tenuous link,” Blake said. “How would that fit in with the first victim? The gents’ toilets?”

  “Good question, Sir. But at the moment it’s all we have to go on.”

  “The powers that be are getting restless, Cass. Understandably. This is national news, not just local.”

 
I understand, Sir.”

  Blake leaned back in his chair. “So far I’ve seen little sign of any innovative thinking. At times it seems to me like you’re still in inspector mode. That your being Chief Inspector hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Not taking the initiative. Not delegating responsibilities. Not making decisions.” He peered over his glasses at Red. “But that’s just my perception, right? I’m probably way off.”

  Red struggled for the right response. “Yes, Sir,” she said after too long a pause.

  Blake sat forward again. A more relaxed expression. “But let’s put that aside a moment. That’s not why I called you here. Well, not the only reason, anyway.”

  “Sir?” Red held her breath.

  “How long has Joe Farmer been on sick leave now?”

  Red let slip a sigh of relief. She shrugged. “Too long, Sir.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Cass. Nearly eight months. And between you and I, I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”

  “Sir? Is he really sick or something? I mean, seriously ill? I thought it was just stress.”

  “Officially, yes. Only…”

  “Only, Sir?”

  “Did DCI Andrews ever discuss Farmer with you?”

  “Discuss, Sir?”

  “As in talk about Farmer’s private affairs? His sick leave?”

  “Only in professional terms, Sir. The Guv, that is, DCI Andrews, wasn’t one for Station gossip.”

  “No, no, of course not. Let me phrase it this way. Did Bill ever mention to you the concerns he and I had about Farmer?”

  “Concerns?”

  Blake sat back, considering his options. “No, you were only an Inspector then. Of course he wouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Bill was a professional in every respect.”

  “Not in question. Are you aware Joe Farmer occasionally visited the Station whilst on sick leave? Five times, to be precise.”

  Red digested the statement. “Is that a problem? It’s not like he was carrying a contagious disease.”

  “Bear with me. The first three times were in the first month of absence. Routine visits to sign documents, hand over casework to colleagues, etcetera. Came in, spent some time with his workmates in the canteen, the usual stuff. But then Farmer pretty much vanished. No-one saw hide nor hair of him. Until…”