by W. Soliman
“The dog scam is just the sort of thing my dad would have got involved with,” she said, thinking through all I’d just told her as she poured me a drink. “And Spelling too—but I find it hard to believe that he chucked in something that lucrative just to run off with a woman.”
“Ah, so cynical.” I winked at her. “You underestimate the power of lurve.”
She snorted. “More like lust.”
“Now that I can identify with.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She flopped down next to me. “So, what do we do now?”
I shrugged, deliberately vague. “Not much we can do unless Reg comes through with anything useful.”
“You don’t sound too hopeful.”
“That’s because I don’t think he knows anything that will help us.”
She frowned. “I don’t buy that.”
Somehow I hadn’t thought that she would. “He used to be a reliable source but nowadays he’s more scared of whoever he works for than he is of me.” I spoke with casual finality. “Probably best not to get your hopes up.”
“He knows you can’t make his life awkward now that you’re no longer a policeman.”
“Exactly.”
“I’d still give a lot to know why he went to see Miller and how he could afford to.”
“Me too.”
“Has he got a wife? A family? Perhaps it’s something to do with them.”
“Good question.” I rubbed my chin, trying to think if I’d ever seen him with anyone, or heard him talk about someone special. “I recall going to his drum once or twice. A grungy bedsit, it was.” I shook my head. “No, I think he’s a loner. No woman would have put up with a pigsty like that.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“After twenty years on the force I think it’s safe to say I’ve seen it all.”
“Well, perhaps he was making his will, swearing an affidavit, something like that.”
“Hardly. Unless he has ill-gotten gains we know nothing about, then Miller’s fee would be in excess of the value of his estate. And an affidavit…” I shook my head again. “The only swearing Reg knows anything about is restricted to four letters.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Still,” Cleo said, brightening, “I’m back at work tomorrow and perhaps Andrea Garnet will come in.” She grinned. “I’ll call you if she does and you can bamboozle her with your lethal charm. Who knows what she might reveal?”
I sighed dramatically. “The things I do for the forces of law and order.”
“And to extricate yourself from a murder rap.”
“Ah yes, that too.”
I kept Cleo with me the following day on various pretexts, going with her when she returned to her flat to change into work clothes. I didn’t see anyone watching me or the boat but then it wouldn’t be so easy for people to get close, given that the pontoons are locked. It wasn’t that difficult to slip through the gate on some pretext or other but anyone loitering on a pontoon without a good reason would stand out like a spare part. That wasn’t to say we weren’t being watched from one of the many bars overlooking the boats, but at least no one was trying to get close enough to invade my living space. If that happened I wouldn’t be a happy camper.
Cleo wasn’t too pleased about me tagging along, and when we reached her flat I could see why. It was a glorified bedsit with kitchenette and minuscule shower room. She’d made the best of it, giving it the feminine touch, and it was scrupulously clean and tidy. But it clearly wasn’t what she was used to and the fact that she’d been reduced to this, just because she’d had to settle her mother’s bills, made me angry. She was grouchy, embarrassed by her circumstances, and I couldn’t think of anything to say to put her at ease. I had the good sense not to make any observations about her living arrangements but could now understand her determination to get some answers. I would do everything I could to provide her with them.
“Charlie, your determination to dog my footsteps has nothing to do with the relentless attraction you feel toward me, has it?” Cleo emerged from her bathroom, clad in her work uniform. “Come on, what gives?”
“I’m not with you.” I tried to look innocent but she wasn’t buying it.
“If I didn’t know better I’d think that you’re trying to protect me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Something else happened, didn’t it? Something you’re not telling me.”
“What, I can’t be gentlemanly without arousing suspicion?”
“I’m a big girl. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your concern but I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe I just enjoy your company.”
“And maybe I enjoy my job too much to risk being late and getting the sack,” she said, glancing at the clock. “Come on, Mr. Gallant, I’ll drive you home.” She smiled sweetly over her shoulder, more like the girl I’d got to know over the past few days. “It just so happens that it’s on my way. But,” she added, wagging a finger at me, “don’t think this lets you off the hook. I fully intend to find out what it is you’re not telling me.”
She rushed to her car, failing to see the guy stationed across the road. He was leaning against a lamppost, his face concealed behind a newspaper that he obviously wasn’t reading. I knew immediately that he was in the job. So Slater had set someone to follow me as well. At this rate I was going to start looking like the Pied Piper. Whilst the idea amused me, having my old colleagues looking upon me with suspicion didn’t.
Slater was sensible enough to have used a young guy, one who usually wore a uniform and wasn’t personally acquainted with me. Even so, word of her actions was bound to spread through the squad room and I wasn’t happy about that. I was willing to bet that my old boss, D.S. Dormer, didn’t know what she’d done. And that might be my saving grace. Dormer liked Slater but I wasn’t so sure that he respected her abilities as a copper. I’d had my ups and downs with him over the years. He liked to do things by the book and didn’t always approve of my methods, so we’d never been friends exactly. But he had acknowledged my talents and knew I was one hundred percent straight. If he found out what Slater had done, there’d be hell to pay. And if push came to shove, I wouldn’t hesitate to drop her in it.
Cleo went to work, promising to be in touch the next day to see if I’d made any progress. Sooner if Andrea Garnet put in an appearance at the casino.
I spent the evening tinkering on the boat, doing all the usual routine maintenance checks. I was due to take it to Le Havre for the weekend. A mate who’d retired from the job a couple of years back had opened a small hotel there and had invited some of the lads for the weekend. The boat was overdue for a run and I was looking forward to making the trip. Perhaps a few days away from Cleo’s problems would put things into perspective.
I hadn’t forgotten about my stepbrother Paul and all that money he’d borrowed but I knew better than to go anywhere near his flat right now. Slater would know about my visit before I crossed the threshold and would be down on me like a bull elephant. It had waited twenty-odd years so a few more weeks couldn’t hurt. But it kept niggling away at me like a physical ache. Paul borrowing a huge sum of money. Paul living in the building where a vicious murder had been committed. What did he know about either, or both, events?
Cleo didn’t phone me that night. It would have been too much to expect Andrea Garnet to appear to order. She did ring the next morning but when I told her I had nothing to report she said she had errands to run and wouldn’t be stopping by. I sensed that she was deliberately distancing herself from me and was relieved that she hadn’t read too much into our finishing up in bed. I thought about inviting her along for the trip to Le Havre. It would have been a good way to keep her in my sights, but in the end I decided against it. It would be better to leave things the way they
were.
I spent the day making a few calls, trying as casually as possible to garner information about Reg Turner’s background. All I knew at the end of several hours working the phone was that Reg had never been married and no one was aware of his having any relatives that he kept in touch with. He still lived in the same rundown bedsit at the back end of beyond and hadn’t won the lottery or received an unexpected windfall.
I leaned back in my chair and thought about that. What was it Sherlock Holmes used to say? Eliminate the impossible and everything else is fair game. Well, those weren’t his exact words but the premise still rang true. If Reg hadn’t gone to see Miller on his own business then he must have been there on someone else’s. Possibly Garnet’s, which would account for his evasiveness when I mentioned his name.
I took Gil for his afternoon run, tempted to wave to the guy who’d been following me since my meeting with Reg. I didn’t bother and instead pretended not to see him. If Slater had anyone on me today he was better at keeping a low profile than her previous minion. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or insulted by her sudden lack of interest in me.
They couldn’t have anyone else in the frame yet or Jimmy would have let me know. Perhaps she thought I’d be so rattled by the grilling she’d given me that I’d do something stupid the moment I was out of her sight. A lot of criminals acted that way. Given her lack of imagination, it didn’t surprise me she actually thought I would fall into that category. I definitely deserved to feel insulted.
I fed myself and settled down at my desk with a beer, intent upon surfing the Net to see what else I could learn about Peter Garnet. I hadn’t got far when my phone rang and Cleo told me Andrea Garnet had just come into the casino. I glanced at my watch, surprised to see that it was already ten o’clock.
“She’s on her own,” Cleo told me. “I’ll see which table she goes to and try to inveigle my way in as dealer.”
“See you in a bit,” I said, already shedding my rumpled clothes and heading for the shower. I could hardly play poker wearing a Harley T-shirt and with hands stained by engine oil.
Half an hour later I strolled into the casino. An unusually large crowd was loitering around the table Cleo was dealing at, watching the action. I didn’t recognise my shadow or any potential ex-colleagues amongst them and wondered what the attraction was. I soon found out. A woman whom I assumed was Andrea Garnet, cocooned in a waft of expensive perfume, was flamboyant enough to make people stop and stare. Tousled brown hair, too much makeup and a blue dress that clung to a decent figure drew the eye. She drank constantly from what looked like a glass of scotch and chatted the whole time she played.
I joined the crowd of watchers and could see at once that what Cleo had said about Andrea was true. She was a reckless player but then she needed to be because she was hopeless at hiding what was in her hand.
All poker players had “tells.” Giveaway signs that indicated how good a hand they had. Unlike on television, not many amateur players bothered to wear shades inside a windowless casino but a lot wore ball caps, thinking the brims would conceal their expressions. They didn’t. The guy at the far end, for example, blinked repeatedly when he had a decent hand. His betting technique was good but that simple habit told me after just a few hands not to go up against him when he started exercising his lashes. The guy next to him tapped his foot all the time, until he got dealt something useful, when he tried so hard to behave casually that his entire body tensed up. Andrea Garnet kept up a constant flow of chatter, aware that every male eye at the table was drawn to her ample cleavage. But when her hand was respectable the chatter turned from a flow to a torrent.
I bought some chips and took one of the two remaining seats at the table, two down from her. I could feel her eyes assessing me as she reached out a hand to shake mine and introduced herself.
“Hi, I’m Andrea.”
“Charlie. Pleased to meet you.”
“Oh, no, the pleasure’s mine.”
I caught sight of Cleo in the periphery of my vision, struggling not to roll her eyes as she dealt the cards. Andrea was the small blind and threw the appropriate chips into the pot. The big blind did the same. Andrea won that hand, mainly because I deliberately folded a decent one, but lost the next two. She committed a cardinal sin by turning over her cards when she folded, before the hand was over. If any of the men at the table had done that they’d have been lynched, and rightly so. But Andrea was clearly a law unto herself. She clicked her fingers at a passing waitress, drained her glass and asked for another scotch. Her pile of chips was rapidly diminishing and I was waiting to see what she’d do when they ran out.
I could tell by her increased chatter that she’d been dealt a decent hand. Everyone else folded and it was my turn. Being on the button, I was in the best position but since just she and I were left in, that advantage didn’t help me much. I had to play this hand, even though I had only a queen and ten, offsuit. I raised.
“Well, Charlie,” she said. “It’s just you and me then.”
“Seems that way,” I said. “Good luck.”
“Oh, I never rely on luck, darling.”
“Really.” I quirked a brow. “You’ll have to let me in on your secret sometime.”
“Just as soon as I’ve relieved you of some of those lovely chips.” She reached across the table and stroked my forearm.
I offered her the glimmer of a smile and covered her hand with mine. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”
Cleo cleared her throat, offered me a brief scowl and dealt the flop. A nine and two tens. I’d tripled my tens and now had a shot at a full house. A sharp intake of breath on Andrea’s part told me that she’d hit the card she wanted. She’d probably got three of a kind. Since I had two tens in my hand and one was in the flop, the odds were against her having the remaining one. Perhaps she now had three nines. My assumption proved correct when she went all in and, with a flourish, turned her cards over. I matched her bet and turned mine over too.
“Oh, bad luck.” She bit her lower lip, whether to appear vampish or to prevent herself from smiling I was unable to tell.
“May the best player win,” I said calmly.
“Oh, she will, darling, she will.”
The turn card was a four. No help to either of us. I needed a queen to get a full house, otherwise the hand was Andrea’s. She eventually stopped talking as Cleo took her time dealing the river.
The queen of hearts.
Andrea’s smile faltered fractionally and then, with a reckless little laugh, she pushed the pot in my direction.
“Are you as lucky in love?” she asked.
“Usually.” I scooping up my winnings and winked at her, wondering what she’d do next.
She called to one of the pit bosses, asking for additional credit on her account. He disappeared and another, more senior, manager appeared and whispered something in her ear.
“What do you mean?” she demanded crossly.
It was obvious that her credit was no longer good. I exchanged a brief glance with Cleo. This lent credence to Reg’s suggestion that her husband was skint. But if he did have problems of that nature it was obviously news to Andrea and she looked furious. As she turned back to the table, I pushed half of my chips toward her.
“Please,” I said. “I’m sure it’s just a glitch. You can pay me back when it’s sorted out.”
She looked surprised by my largesse and I thought at first that she might refuse. But slowly her face lost its angry flush and returned to a more natural colour, her disinclination to borrow superseded by the pressing desire to gamble.
“Thank you. I don’t know where they find the brainless idiots they employ here.” She shot a hostile glance at the manager who’d refused her credit. “When my husband hears about this, there’ll be hell to pay.” Her features relaxed into a flirtatious smile as she
turned back to me. “And you won’t be out-of-pocket for long, Charlie. I intend to win and pay you back immediately.”
In spite of her optimism, I knew I could kiss those chips goodbye. I’d already written them off in my head. I thought of Cleo’s squalid living conditions and reminded myself that I was making the sacrifice in a good cause.
“Obviously.” I deliberately let my eyes linger on her cleavage. Cleo, for whose sake I was manfully pretending to be impressed by Andrea’s rather too obvious charms, glowered as she dealt the next hand. Women! “Why else would we be here?”
“Exactly.”
I wasn’t surprised when half an hour later Andrea had lost the lot. I cashed in, threw a generous tip Cleo’s way, for which I received a curt thank-you, and joined Andrea at the bar.
“I’m so sorry about that.” She clicked her fingers at the barman. “You must let me know where I can find you so that I can send you a cheque.”
“Not necessary.” I slid onto the stool next to hers. “Like I said, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. You can repay me the next time you come in.”
We ordered our drinks but she made no attempt to move away from me when they were served.
“You’re a regular here then?”
“Yes,” I said. “I like to play.”
“Well, I haven’t seen you before. I would have noticed you,” she said, fluttering her lashes. “I dislike the idea of being in debt to a stranger.”
I scribbled my number on the back of a drip mat and handed it to her. “There, does that make you feel better?”
“No, darling, not nearly but I suppose it’ll have to do.” She took a sip of her drink and observed me over the rim of the glass. “For now.”
“Can’t help wondering why that husband of yours lets you come here on your own.” I nodded toward a wedding ring that was almost buried by an enormous diamond solitaire. “He’s obviously not the jealous type.”
“Oh, he only ever thinks about work, the poor darling.”
“Really? What does he do?”
