He turned to face her. His long legs, cramped in the narrow space, bumped against her knees. She tried to draw aside from the contact but there was no space to move into. His eyes locked on hers and she felt her body still in anticipation.
“Trust me, I won’t spill the beans if you’re behind the Trending News report,” he said with gentle persuasion.
Her pent breath released in a combination of cough and hiccup as her expectations crumbled. She shook her head to dislodge her disappointment that his response hadn’t been more personal. She had no right to feel this way since she’d made it abundantly clear she wanted nothing to do with Cole!
“Scouts honor, I won’t run to tell Titus,” Cole reassured her, obviously misinterpreting her gesture.
“Okay, but this information stays just between us. Griffin begged me to tell the world he had died in the attack to keep him safe, so what could I do? Cole, he’s petrified of the Loughboroughs. Officially, I stalled the reporters at the media conference, neither confirming nor denying whether Griffin was alive.”
“And unofficially?”
“I may have encouraged one of my team to plant a seed in the hopes someone would broadcast Griffin’s death.”
“They picked the right news agency. Trending News is more likely to shoot their mouths off without corroborating evidence than the Beeb. Right! Here we are,” Cole said, pulling Bex to her feet as the bus lurched to a halt.
Grabbing her hand again, he pulled her along, Bex almost treading on his heels as they plunged downstairs.
Chapter 14
American Pie, Wednesday, April 4
They came off the bus on a busy residential street, front gardens filled with colorful blooms, the sidewalk filled with pedestrians and cyclists. A teen zoomed past them on a skateboard, splashing through the puddles. Cole’s long legs devoured the pavement, forcing her to keep pace and giving her no chance to talk. She was unprepared for his abrupt halt, bumping into him and almost bruising her nose as her face mashed against his broad back.
“Ooph! What the hell, Cole?!” She stepped backwards, rubbing her nose and sniffing through the pain.
Where they stood a few low-key stores fronted the sidewalk, ending in a pub on the corner. Black cabs crawled past them. She heard the angry tinkling of two cyclists forced to swerve around them. Drops of water from the leaves of a large Sycamore dripped onto their shoulders.
“Honestly, Cole, I can’t ditch work like this.”
“I brought you here to check out this shop. I thought it might cure some of your homesickness.”
He urged her around in front of him. Bemused, she looked through plate glass windows slashed with the American flag and with a statue of liberty stenciled across one corner. The sign above the sliding glass doors read “American Pie” in large red, white and blue letters.
“I knew you’d refuse to come if I just asked you, so I had to be sneaky about it. Feel like a taste of good ol’ US of A?”
He put on an exaggerated southern drawl that missed the mark by a mile yet managed to draw a smile from her, even though she wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or irritated. He couldn’t know she wasn’t homesick, she was heartsick, because she refused to discuss her private life with anyone at work. Definitely the last thing she wanted was anyone’s pity! Pity was what had chased her away from New York and her familiar life.
“Don’t be crazy, Cole. You know this case we’re working on is serious and I need to be back at my desk.”
“Afraid five minutes skiving off work will ruin your hard-boiled reputation in the office?”
He was telling her he had noticed she was in the office long before anyone else arrived at Bridesmead and often didn’t leave until the cleaners came to turn off the lights.
The way he said it made her realize he thought working hard was merely a point of pride for her. It wasn’t. It was a coping mechanism. Keeping busy solving homicide cases kept her grief at bay, stopped her thoughts from spiraling downwards into a black well of despair over what life should have been with Zane at her side.
“You know what they say about all work and no play? Come on, hen, we’re here now so a few minutes won’t make any difference. Aren’t you even a little bit tempted to see what’s for sale?” Humor hit his eyes and he cocked an expressive eyebrow in her direction.
Feeling like a truant child, Bex let him nudge her forward, stepping through the sliding doors that opened at their approach. A display table filled with boxes of cereal, packets of cookies and other snack foods grabbed her attention. Cinnamon Roll Pop Tarts and single serve cups of Apple Jacks, Zane’s favorite breakfasts on the go. She bit her lip. Stacked boxes of buttermilk pancake and waffle mixes beside butter-rich and original syrups reminded her of rare Sunday mornings with Zane at the stovetop cranking out flapjack stacks for her and their friends.
A jolt of grief slammed into her heart. Tears pricked her eyes. Just over a year ago her life had shattered like glass against stone when an auto accident hospitalized her and killed the man she loved. Twisted out of shape, her life was unrecognizable to her now. What was once safe and familiar had become sharp reminders that her life would never return to normal.
Cole’s direct eyes watched her carefully. Setting her jaw, she struggled to stop the spurting tears, swiping at them with a fist. Then she felt his arms slide around her, folding her against his chest. He was just the right height for her to bury her head against his shoulder to muffle her sobs. Her tears gushed, hot and intense, while he stroked her hair.
“I can’t imagine your loneliness at being so far away from your home. My gran left her highland home for love of a Sassanach and suffered for it. Living in a strange land must feel like living on an alien planet,” he said. “Even though so much bad American telly is jammed down our throats by the network stations, I’m guessing you feel there’s no one here to get your weird American sense of humor or your obtuse Yankee references.”
After a few moments she was drained and twisted herself out of his arms. Cold snuck back into her heart and she shivered at the bleakness left behind.
She searched her pockets for a tissue but couldn’t find one. Cole handed her a crisp white handkerchief. She took the cotton square and flashed him an incredulous look.
“Really?”
“It’s habit. My gran always made me carry a clean white hanky in my pocket just for damsels in distress,” Cole said. “A well prepared man is ill prepared without a hanky in his pocket.”
Bex dabbed at her eyes and wiped her snotty nose.
“I’m sorry for the ridiculous histrionics. I don’t know what came over me. I can assure you I’m normally more together than this.”
Cole studied her too intently for comfort. She avoided his eyes, her gaze catching on the way his dark hair curled into the nape of his neck.
“Is it more than just homesickness? Bex, I think you’re investing too much of yourself into Griffin Loughborough. He’s not as vulnerable as you think. Remember he comes from a long line of criminals. If you want to survive in policing you have to toughen up, harden your heart otherwise it’ll be ripped out with every single case.”
She crushed the handkerchief between her fingers.
“Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll keep your advice in mind.”
“Don’t snap at me. I’m concerned. You’ll wear yourself out and then you’ll be no good to your fellow police officers or the victims you’re trying to help. I think it’s because you have too much passion. Although, it’s not always a bad thing to have too much passion in the right context, and I’m certainly not complaining about that!”
Suddenly his face lit up with laughter, his eyes crinkling attractively at the corners. She caught herself blushing. He was referring to that night. She was still furious with herself for having had enough to drink that she let her guard down. Her feelings for Cole had taken a sharp and unexpected turn and now they fought not to be stuffed back in their box.
“That night was amazing, wasn
’t it?” He snuck a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face gently towards him.
Emotions swirled, leaving her speechless and breathless.
“I’m your boss, Cole, this isn’t appropriate.” She struggled to get the words out.
“Well, you’re about to fire me, so that won’t be an issue any longer.” He flashed his trademark, lopsided grin at her.
“But you’ve applied for the superintendent position and if you get it then you’ll be my boss. Let’s face it, Cole, this whole thing is too complicated and neither of us wants complicated.”
Cole fell silent, thinking.
“Will you change your mind about having dinner with me if I tell you I don’t expect anything permanent? You’ve made it obvious you’re not putting roots down in London. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
The tears came back. She tried blinking away the leakage, but she couldn’t hide it from Cole. Instead she strolled down the aisles, filled with shelves of canned goods and sodas, stacks of jars, and row upon row of candy bars: Hersheys, Twizzlers, Reeses and Brachs. American Pie stocked all the comfort foods she hadn’t tasted in months, which already had her mouth watering and her empty stomach rumbling.
Bex sniffled back the last of the tears. She recognized that Cole was trying to be kind by bringing her here, but he had it ass backwards. The strangeness of her new life was what she craved to get over her loss, to stop the constant reminders about why she had been forced into living a single life.
“Thanks for bringing me here. This is just what I needed.” She injected a note of brightness into her voice and hoped it didn’t sound fake.
She selected a random item from the rack in front of her and waved it under his nose.
“This is perfect. Let’s go.”
“‘A1 Original Steak Sauce’,” he read the label out loud. “Don’t tell me that out of everything in the shop, this is what you’ve hankered for?”
“Damn straight,” she said stoutly, heading for the check out counter. “I’m a barbeque grill girl through and through.”
A skinny waif with tattoos circling her wrists and rings in her nose turned a bored expression towards her as she placed the glass bottle down. The girl scanned it and clipped out, “Ten pounds.”
“What?!” Surprised, Bex fumbled with her wallet. She picked up the item, but it was just a standard ten ounce bottle costing nearly four times the amount it would if she had purchased it back home. “Ten dollars would be insane, but ten pounds is just plain criminal!”
The skinny waif’s nose rings took on an evil glint as she stared down her nose at Bex.
“Import duties and taxes,” she replied with a loud sniff.
“Comfort out of a bottle doesn’t come cheap.” Cole handed out a lazy smile with his homily. “Any time you decide you prefer a steak dinner to go with that sauce, let me know.”
Chapter 15
Bridesmead, Wednesday, April 4
Idris was deep into an analysis of the report from Griffin’s arrest ten months ago when Eli tapped him on the shoulder, proffering a paper coffee mug.
“Fresh from Dill’s downstairs. Got an eyeful of blue sky outside. Thought I was in Majorca for sixty seconds till the clouds rolled back in!” Eli gave a guffaw. “How did you go with Mrs Kaufman this morning?”
Gratefully, Idris took the cup, rubbing at his eyes to refresh them from hours staring at the computer screen.
“She’s a basket case of nerves. Kept looking over her shoulder as though expecting the Loughborough bogeyman to appear. I didn’t get squat out of her.”
“What are you checking over?”
“I’m just going through Griffin’s arrest records. I thought there might be some clue there to Kaufman’s motivation. In the end Mackinley only had enough hard evidence to charge Kaufman and Jayesh Bannerjee. Bannerjee copped five years for drug dealing at Wormwood Scrubs and Kaufman took the rap for the police murder. It’s likely they both held a grudge against Griffin, but it looks like Kaufman was in the right place at the right time to do something about it.”
Eli took his tea sweet and strong. He sipped it thoughtfully.
“We know all that, so why are you looking so puzzled?”
Idris bounced a pen between his fingers while he tasted his beverage. He enjoyed digging into specifics because the devil was in the detail and that was where most criminals slipped up.
“I did a comparison of the numbers for the drug bust. There’s an aspect that seems to have been glossed over. In Bannerjee’s statement he admits to distributing drugs with a street value of three hundred thousand pounds.”
Eli gave a silent whistle. “Three hundred thou is a hefty bust.”
“The discrepancy is that the police only logged 6.2 kilos of cocaine in their property report. If you stop and work out the street value at roughly thirty or even forty pounds per gram, it comes out well short of three hundred thou.”
“If they were delivering to distributors, maybe one of the distributors nabbed a few bags that the police didn’t recover?” Eli suggested. “Or Bannerjee could be a nob bragging to build himself up?”
“He’d have to be a giant nob not to know the police would calculate the drugs in the bust. Besides, the larger the haul, the harsher the penalties. If anything, I would have expected him to downplay the quantities they were distributing.”
“You’re not suggesting there was anything untoward with the drug bust are you? You’re talking about Mackinley and his boys. I’d bet my shirt they’re a bunch of straight shooters. I don’t think Mackinley would countenance anything crooked in his patch of turf.”
“You’re right. It’s probably not important. How did you go with Kaufman’s phone?”
“IT reported there was only one outgoing call. Eighteen incoming calls were logged as unanswered. All from and to the same number.”
“Do they know whose number it is?”
“It goes to a charity called Guardian Angel Relief Volunteers. I checked the prison’s records and Kaufman’s only calls via official channels were to his wife.”
“Seems suspicious that he had a mobile phone on him and never used it,” Idris said.
“I’d say it’s a burner provided specifically to organize the hit on Griffin. The calls started on March 5. I sent Remy to check into Guardian Angel Relief Volunteers so she should have something to report at this afternoon’s briefing. I think this supervisory role’s gone to Quinn’s head. With briefings both morning and afternoon, how are we supposed to get enough work done to report on!”
“Get down to it, old man, otherwise you’ll be the only one with nothing to say,” Idris took a dig at him.
“That’s gratitude, and after I bought you a coffee!”
* * *
Remy trailed Idris and Eli into the investigation room where Quinn was already waiting for them, writing notes on the whiteboard near the front. It was obvious to Remy that the two men were having some difficulty adjusting to her presence in the office. She understood. Getting to know her was hardly worth the emotional effort given that she would only be with the team for this particular case.
In fact keeping a safe distance suited her purposes and disguised her unwillingness to end up in the thick of the investigation. She hid her reluctance by taking on tasks that kept her out of the office.
As they walked into the room and dropped into seats, she listened with half an ear to the men’s banter.
“God, my back’s killing me,” Eli grumbled. “Georgie kept me up most of the night and I’m sorry to say it wasn’t for pleasure! Some hairy brute of a spider decided to visit the bedroom and she couldn’t relax until I finally found it and swatted it to death. I had to scrabble around under the whatnot and I swear I slipped a disc. Still, Georgie showed her appreciation in all the right ways afterwards, even if it didn’t do my back any good!”
Idris groaned. “Keep a lid on it, old man! I swear if you expound on your nudge, nudge, wink, wink routine one more time, I’m going to pho
ne Reuben myself and beg him to come back to work. At least when he’s in the office you keep the details of your nights with his mother to yourself.”
“Right you lot, pack it in! There’s a time and a place and this isn’t it,” Quinn barked.
“Relax, Quinn, no need to get your knickers in a twist,” Idris shot back. “You’re the boss and we get it.”
Quinn glared at them like a grumpy substitute teacher failing to subdue a classroom of noisy students. Remy hid a smile at the thought that Quinn looked like he wanted to give Idris a black mark and send him to detention.
“I’ll kick off this afternoon’s briefing with a report on my interviews at Coldmarsh Prison. After talking with the warden I identified three prison guards who knew Brian Thrussell well and I spoke to each of them. In a nutshell they all said he was an exemplary guard, one of the few who hadn’t had a run in with any inmates for the past twelve months. I checked Thrussell’s rosters and there’s no indication he had any direct dealings with Kaufman since his incarceration.”
“So, we’re ruling Thrussell out as the target of the shooting?” Eli queried.
“For now. It’ll be more productive to concentrate on Griffin Loughborough’s connection to Kaufman and the rest of the Loughborough family. While speaking to the guards I discovered that Coldmarsh has a huge problem with drones flying in drugs and other contraband to the prison. The way it works is that someone drives close to the prison, releases the drone and guides it to a particular prisoner’s window. The prisoner grabs the stash and the drone disappears. They’re rarely caught on CCTV footage because the cameras aren’t pointed skyward.
“I’ve confirmed from past reports that the Loughboroughs use this method to distribute throughout London prisons. A drone would explain how Kaufman came to have the gun in his possession and even the phone we suspect Kaufman used to make contact for the hit. Idris, were you able to dig up any detailed information on drones after I phoned you?”
Bex Wynter Box Set 2 Page 26
