Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set

by Saffina Desforges

  “Now, we’re going to walk out of here, my hand on your shoulder. We’ll be stopped by Security at the doors. Don’t say a word. And don’t even think of running. You’re on camera. If you run my colleagues will pick you up later and you’ll be charged. Neither of us want that, right?”

  The girl nodded, struggling to hold back the tears.

  “Let’s go.”

  Ella was waiting by the door as Red approached. She looked mystified to see Red’s hand on the shoulder of the teenage girl. Two men stepped forward as they reached the exit, producing their ID. In response Red held up her badge.

  “Metropolitan Police. Detective Chief Inspector Rose. Sorry, guys. Beat you to it,” she grinned, holding up the empty bag. “Everything’s been safely returned, as you’ll know from CCTV.”

  Ella was gawping in the entrance, a huge smile on her face as she took in the scene, camera-phone coming up ready.

  The two security officials exchanged glances. One spoke on his phone to the security desk, explaining the situation. He gestured for Red’s badge, took it and read out the name and rank. A brief one-way conversation, then he returned the ID to Red.

  “So you’re dealing with this?”

  “She’ll be given a caution at the station.”

  “Our policy is to prosecute all shoplifters.”

  Red held up the empty bag. “She hasn’t stolen anything. She put them back.”

  “But…” The security guard’s rebuttal expired before it had begun.

  “Do you really want the hassle?” Red asked. “I’m just cutting out the middle man. Saving you some work.”

  The guard looked at his colleague and shrugged. “Less paperwork for us. You’re welcome to her.”

  The two guards sauntered back into the store. Red breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  “Walk down the road with me,” she said to the girl. She gestured for Ella not to speak. The three of them walked fifty yards and stopped by the entrance to the Piccadilly Circus tube station.

  “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Miriam.”

  The girl was still trembling. She nodded, unable to speak.

  Red handed her the empty bag. “I suggest you get yourself home.”

  The girl looked up at Red through tear-filled eyes. “You mean, that’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “But… You said you were taking me to the station.”

  Red flicked her eyes towards the London Underground signs. “I didn’t say the police station, did I?”

  “For real? I can go?”

  “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

  The girl looked Red in the eye. “There won’t be a next time.”

  “I’m counting on it. Don’t prove me wrong. Do you have enough money to get home?”

  The girl looked away.

  “Do you have a home, Miriam?”

  The girl nodded reluctantly. “Highgate.”

  “That’s a fair way.” Red believed the girl, but thought the hesitancy suggested home was not where she wanted to be. “Is everything alright?”

  The girl shifted her gaze to the ground, nodded unconvincingly.

  Red produced a ten from her pocket, handing it to the girl. “I don’t want you being picked up for fare-dodging now, do I. Oh, and take this, too.” She handed the girl a Police card with her contact details on. “If you want to talk… Any time.” She held Miriam’s gaze, to be sure the girl understood.

  Miriam stared at the ten pound note in her hand, then at the card, then back at Red. “Thank you.” She edged herself to the top of the steps. “I can really go?”

  Red nodded. “Remember. Call me. Any time, day or night.”

  The girl vanished down the steps into the bank holiday crowd.

  Chapter 58.

  “This is so cool!” Ella waltzed down the final stretch of Regent’s Street. “First you arrest someone, then you give them money and let them go! I can’t wait to tell everyone at school tomorrow.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, Els. It wasn’t official.”

  “I guessed that. You didn’t read her out her Miranda rights.”

  Red laughed. “Miranda? That’s America, not here. How do you know about things like that anyway?”

  “Women’s Murder Club.”

  Red stared at Ella. “Women’s what?”

  “Murder Club. There’s this detective and she gets together with a group of friends and solves murder cases. She reminds me of you.”

  “You mean James Patterson?”

  Ella nodded. “I was reading some while I was waiting for you.”

  Red looked the child up and down. “An invisible book?”

  Ella waved her smartphone at Red.

  “Any good?”

  “It’s well cool. UI told you, she reminds me of you.”

  “I meant e-reading. Not sure I’d want to read on a screen that small, mind. I was thinking of getting a proper e-reader sometime though. Just to annoy your Mum.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Sadist. Anyway, the Women’s Murder Club is for adults. It’s full of violence.”

  “So’s the news.”

  “Touché, Els. But I’m not sure your mum would approve of you reading that sort of thing.”

  “That’s why I have it on my phone. You won’t tell her, will you?”

  “So long as it’s nothing too…” Red’s attention was caught by commotion ahead. “Sorry, Els. I’d better check this out.” She hurried forward, Ella following close behind, heading for the growing crowd. People were gaping up towards the top of the Harvey-Williams building at the junction with Great Windmill Street.

  Red’s heart lurched in her chest as her gaze settled on the highest ledge of Harvey-Williams and the woman inching her way along it, flattened against the old stone work.

  “Jesus! Ella, wait here.” Red took off into the throng, badge held out to part the crowd. “Police! Let me through!”

  Her other hand frantically speed-dialled the Station. “DCI. Rose. We’ve got a jumper. Regent’s Street. The Harvey-Williams building. Urgent assistance required. I’m going up.”

  Chapter 59.

  “I need the manager,” Red shouted at a flushed young man with bad acne. “Now!”

  “Is there anything I can help you with, Madam?” he stammered.

  Red shoved her badge under his nose. “Manager. It’s an emergency.”

  “Yes, of course.” The assistant coloured an even fiercer shade of red and dived behind a counter. He managed a watery smile as he mumbled into a telephone. “Someone’s gone to fetch him,” he told Red. “He shouldn’t be too long.”

  “How do I get to the roof?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The roof, for God’s sake. There’s a woman up there about to jump.”

  “Jump?” The assistant’s eyes became saucers, the red flush vanishing as his face drained white. “Through the back.”

  “Show me.”

  “But the Manager –”

  Red grabbed the assistant’s shoulder.“Just bloody show me!”

  She followed the assistant across the shop floor and through saloon doors into the warehouse area. “The lift will take you most of the way.”

  “Too slow. Stairs?”

  “Those doors there.”

  Red pushed the assistant aside. “Stay here.”

  A shout came from across the floor. “Excuse me?”

  Red glanced at the immaculate suit and pink tie. “The manager?”

  The man was walking towards her at the leisurely pace his authority demanded.

  “Are you the manager?” Red asked again. She stopped at the stairway entrance. Pulled at the door. Locked. She flashed her ID. “Police. I need this door open. Now!”

  “I am the store manager, yes,” he wheezed. “Mr. Leatherhead.”

  “Then unlock the bleeding door, for God’s sake! There’s a woman on your roof and she isn’t there to clean the windows.”

  “A woman?”
Leatherhead fumbled awkwardly with a set of keys.

  Red yanked the door open. “How many floors?”

  “Eight.”

  “Shit.”

  “And then another set of stairs to the loft. The exit is at the far end, on your left. It will be locked. I’d better come with you.” He fumbled with the keys again.

  Red looked at the manager, still sweating from the exertion of walking across the shop-floor. “Which key is it?I‘ll be quicker on my own.”

  Leatherhead began trying to remove a key from the ring. Red impatiently grabbed the whole set.

  “Get outside, move the crowds back, and wait for the emergency services to arrive. They’re on the way.” Before he could respond she was leaping the stairs three at a time.

  By the third floor it was two at a time and by the fourth, one, and slowing.

  At floor five Red shuddered to a halt by the lift door. She hit the button, legs leaden, sweating profusely. “Please be close by.” She was almost bent double, hands on knees. She watched the gearings through the trellis gate, listening to the clanking and whirring of the machinery.

  It arrived in less than a minute, but seemed like an eternity. Red used the time to get her breathing under control. The last thing she needed was to look flustered and tired when she reached the roof.

  The lift jerked and creaked with agonising slowness toward the top of the ancient building, giving Red time to gather her thoughts. She had never dealt with a situation like this before, and without training and no rule book to follow she had no idea what she was going to say. She allowed herself a brief smile as she racked her brains for an appropriate opening line; a futile attempt to play down the seriousness of what she was about to do.

  Chapter 60.

  “Mum, we’re gonna be late.”

  Pippa pressed her phone to her ear. “You are going to be late, Ella. Please use the English language Her Majesty represents, not that dreadful estuarine slang. Now, by late, what do you mean? Do we have a timescale? May I speak to Cassandra, please.”

  “That might be difficult,” Ella said breathlessly.

  “Might it, indeed. Just hand Cass the phone, Ella. It’s really quite simple.”

  “She’s not available right now.”

  In the Trocadero Centre Pippa watched disapprovingly as Jack and Darren competed with each other to see who could make the most noise with their milkshakes.

  “Explain not available to me, Ella. The two of you are out shopping together, are you not?”

  “Cass had to rush off.”

  “Oh. I knew that Indian meal we had last night was a bad idea.”

  Ella laughed. “Not like that, Mum.”

  Pippa glared at her son. “Jack. I can hardly hear your sister speak with all that noise.” To Ella, “Then enlighten me.”

  Ella gazed up at the ledge just below the parapet of the building. “Well you see, there’s this woman on the roof. Well, not really the roof. Just below it, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, Ella, I have no idea what you mean. Who is this woman, and to which roof which isn’t really a roof do you refer?”

  “Outside Harvey-Williams. There’s this lady outside on the ledge, like in the films. I think she’s going to jump.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Ella. Harvey-Williams is a respectable establishment. They would never allow such a thing.”

  Chapter 61.

  Red squeezed herself through the partially opened doors, having to step up slightly where the elevator floor hadn’t quite reached the level.

  The phone in her hand beeped. Pippa.

  “Cass, where are you? I’m sitting here waiting for you in this so-called entertainment centre, with two badly behaved boys, one of whom I’m ashamed to say is my son. And now Ella has just given me some bizarre story about a woman on a ledge in Harvey-Williams.”

  Old display mannequins with dented heads and missing limbs littered the vast loft space, the air dank and stale. Red flicked the light switch. Nothing.

  “Can’t talk now, Counsellor. I’ll call you back.”

  “But Cass…”

  “Sorry. Emergency.” Red switched the phone off. She shuddered as she threaded her way through the sea of disused mannequin carcasses, wafting cobwebs from her face. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she trod a cautious path in the direction of a silhouette she hoped was the staircase leading to the roof.

  Red felt her breathing becoming heavy. The oppressive heat and disturbed dust burned her lungs. Relaxed as her eyes determined the sign at the bottom of the stairs pointed with an arrow to the exit. She swung herself around the handrail and bolted up the metal steps.

  The door at the top of the stairs was locked as the manager had said. Red cursed herself for not having kept hold of the key he had indicated. She examined the lock and made a best guess at keys likely to fit it, trying them one by one. The fifth key was a match.

  Red pushed the door open, the flood of daylight blinding her for a few seconds. She steadied herself whilst the flashes subsided. As her vision cleared, she could make out a flat, asphalted area, dotted with skylights, covered in a carpet of moss, dotted with skylights. Below, the horns of obstructed traffic reminded her why she was there.

  She tried to work out her location in relation to where she had seen the woman. She used the Gherkin to determine the front face of the Harvey-Williams building. A scream from the street below froze the blood in her veins.

  Breaking into a run, she followed the direction of the noise, relieved to see a parapet come into view to halt her forward momentum. With shaking hands flat on the faded stone, Red stuck her head over. The growing crowd below were barely distinguishable individually from this height. She could see the manager and staff struggling to hold the crowd back. Flashing blue lights were heading their way. Police and Fire Brigade from one direction, an ambulance from another.

  Red looked twice along the ledge that ran six feet below, before espying a pair of shoes protruding from behind a vertical extension. She rushed along the parapet and stopped a few yards distant, leaning over. Her eyes met with those of a startled young woman. Beautiful dark almond eyes stared up at her, wild and full of fear.

  Red straightened herself, a hesitant hand reaching out instinctively. “Don’t be alarmed. My name’s Cass Rose. I’m here to help you.”

  The woman held Red’s gaze for a second, then dropped her eyes back to what little of the ledge could be called a floor, shuffling her feet forward, her hands held out behind her to keep balance.

  Red looked down, feeling dizzy. She gripped the parapet. Focussed on the woman. Something about the eyes told Red they were eastern European. “Do you speak English? Do you understand what I am saying to you? Nod if you understand me.”

  The woman stared at her, giving no indication either way.

  Red kept her voice calm and soothing. Tone and pitch were crucial if the woman did not understand English. “You’re not in any trouble. We can get you down and talk. If there’s a problem, I can help. What is your name?”

  The woman stared at Red. Red held her gaze, a forced smile on her face, trying to appear friendly. Did she detect an inkling of comprehension?

  “I’m a Detective Chief Inspector with the Metropolitan Police.” She held her badge out for the fifth time in an hour. Whatever it is, I can help you. I can make things happen. You’re not in any trouble.”

  As if to disprove what Red had just said, sirens blared below as several police cars wormed their way through the crowd, a ladder-carrying fire rescue vehicle and an ambulance close behind.

  The woman threw an accusatory glance up at Red. “You called them,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crescendo growing below.

  “Listen to me. The Police are only here to make sure no-one gets hurt. That includes you. Especially you. You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise.”

  The woman shook her head. In broken English, “You do not understand. I am not to be here. They want to send me back. I can
not go back.”

  Red shifted to her left, edging slightly nearer to where the woman stood. Slow, deliberate movements so as not to alarm her. “Who are? Immigration? Are you here illegally?” Red’s voice was gentle. Sincere.

  The woman nodded, hanging her head. “My sister was deported two weeks ago.” She looked back up at Red, her eyes suddenly empty. “She is dead now.”

  “Dead?”

  “They killed her.”

  Red felt instantly useless. “What’s your name?”

  “Tahlia.”

  “Listen to me, Tahlia. I can have someone look into your case. Get you some help.”

  “It is no use, I have already been served my papers. There is nothing anyone can do now.” Straightening herself to her full height, the woman took a deep lungful of air. “I would rather die this way what they will do to me there.”

  Red moved along as far as she dared, her fingers almost within touching distance of the woman’s sleeve. “Please, you can’t do this. We can protect you.”

  “Like you protected my sister?”

  “Just let me help you.”

  The woman blinked slowly, holding Red’s eyes for second before turning away again, arms spread at her sides, standing on tip toes. “No-one can help me now.”

  “I can,” Red said desperately. “Whatever it is, I can help you.”

  “I asked for help. They would not believe me.”

  “Tahlia, I believe you. Whatever it is. If it’s driven you to this, it must be true. I can help you.”

  “And the rest of my family? Can you help them too?”

  “If you will just talk to me. Tell me what has happened.”

  Tahlia took a last look at Red. “I have told them many times. They say I am a liar. That I made it up to stay in your country.”

  “Who says you are a liar?”

  “Immigration. They think we want to be here. That we come here by choice.”

  Red looked mystified. “Why else would you be here?”

  Tahlia stared at Red, eyes filled with despair. “For just a moment I thought you were different. But you’re not. You are just the same.”