Streetwise

by Roberta Kray

  Morton Carlisle walked around the desk and sat down too. He looked at Danny. ‘So, have you got it?’

  ‘Of course.’ Danny put a hand in his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a wad of notes and threw them on to the top of the desk. ‘Two k,’ he said. ‘As we agreed.’

  Carlisle snatched up the notes, opened a drawer and dropped the money inside. ‘Good.’

  ‘Ain’t you gonna count it?’ Silver asked.

  Carlisle gave her a weary smile. ‘Mutual trust, my dear. It’s the only way to do business.’ He transferred his gaze to Danny. ‘No problems, then?’

  ‘None at all. The tosser paid up without a murmur. We could probably go back for seconds.’

  ‘No seconds,’ Carlisle said sharply. ‘We agreed, right? One hit and that’s it. Any more and they’ll start to panic, think that it’s never going to end. And that’s when they’ll throw caution to the wind and end up going to the law.’ He put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. ‘We don’t need the police sniffing round, do we? It would hardly be advantageous for either of us.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Danny said. ‘Don’t bother me either way. So, you got someone else lined up?’

  Morton Carlisle pulled a large blue ledger towards him, flicked the book open and ran a finger down the page. ‘There are several possibilities, but… Yes, I think this could be our man.’ He glanced up at Danny. ‘Squires. Jeremy Squires. He’s forty-six, a businessman – something tedious to do with computers – but he’s also a local councillor with ambitions to stand for Parliament. As such, any scandal would be decidedly unwelcome.’

  ‘Married?’ Danny asked.

  ‘Naturally. Although rumour has it that he has a penchant for the younger ladies.’ His gaze slid towards Silver where it settled for a few seconds. ‘He also has two teenage daughters.’

  ‘Nice,’ Danny said, gently rubbing his hands together. ‘Sounds like he’s our man. Loaded, I take it?’

  ‘Apparently so.’

  ‘Best give us the details then.’

  Morton Carlisle gave a nod of his head before writing out the name and address on a notepad. He ripped the sheet off and passed it to Danny. ‘Let me know when it’s done. How were you thinking of —’

  ‘You let me worry about that,’ Danny said, rising to his feet. ‘Let’s just stick to what we’re good at, eh? I’ll be in touch.’ He took hold of Silver’s elbow. ‘Come on, babe. Time to go.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Carlisle sat back, frowning. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ His eyes darted towards Silver. ‘We have a deal, remember?’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Danny said, smirking. He gave Silver a small push. ‘Go on, hun. Go and be nice to Mr Carlisle.’

  Silver obediently walked around the desk until she was standing right beside his chair. She stood for a moment gazing down at him, before slowly undoing first the belt and then the buttons on her raincoat. She took her time, occasionally pausing to sweep back her long fair hair. An enigmatic smile played around her mouth, but her eyes were cold and empty.

  Carlisle’s tongue darted out like a snake, briefly wetting his lips before disappearing back inside. His breathing grew audible and his hands slid down into his lap.

  Silver let the coat slip from her shoulders on to the floor. It made a light swishing sound like an indoor breeze. Underneath, she was naked, her skin as smooth and pale as porcelain. All she was wearing now were a pair of red stilettos. She put her left hand on her hip and stood very still as if she was posing for a magazine picture.

  Carlisle stared hard at her full breasts and tiny waist before his gaze gradually descended to her pussy, her thighs, her ankles and feet. Then his eyes quickly swept up again to focus on the small brown nipples of her breasts. Almost immediately, he reached out a hand, but Silver stepped smartly out of reach.

  She laughed, leaning forward to wag a finger in his face. ‘Uh-huh, you know the rules, babe. You can look – you can look as much as you like – but you can never ever touch…’

  10

  From her bed, Ava gazed across at the thin grey light sliding through the gap in the curtains. Morning or afternoon? At this time of year it was impossible to tell. She reached out, scrabbling for her watch on the table, but couldn’t find it. Now she was awake she knew that she would have to get up, but still she lingered for a few moments, enjoying the warmth and snugness of the duvet.

  While she delayed the inevitable, she thought back over the previous day. In the afternoon, Chris had informed her that he had to go to Manchester and they’d set off within the hour. She’d enjoyed the drive up the motorway, getting some speed out of the Mercedes for once instead of being stuck in a perpetual traffic jam. He had spent most of the journey on the phone, making calls, sending texts or checking out the Facebook page for Belles.

  Once in Manchester, she’d dropped him off in the city centre at a pub called the Crown and then found somewhere to park before going to get a burger. There had been some nice-looking restaurants around the area, but she hadn’t fancied eating in them on her own. The burger place was busy and anonymous, easy to blend into. Surrounded by northern accents, she’d felt like a stranger, but not an unwelcome one. Natural curiosity had made her wonder what Chris’s business was up there, but she hadn’t asked and he hadn’t said. It was probably for the best. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t tell.

  It had been the early hours of the morning before they’d got back to London. He’d been chattier on the return journey and the time had passed quickly. She guessed that the meeting, whatever it had been about, had gone well. She’d also had the feeling that Chris had wanted to say something to her, but hadn’t quite been able to find the words. He’d begin, glance at her, and then change his mind.

  Ava stretched out her arms and yawned. It was over a week now since she’d started the job and she had managed to get through it without incurring any damage, major or minor, to the precious Merc. The hours, as predicted, varied widely, but this didn’t bother her. It wasn’t as if she had a rich social life to fit in around her work. She hadn’t had a date since splitting up with Alec – not that she’d wanted one – and the recent highlight of her social calendar had been a drink with her dad in the Fox.

  Eventually, with reluctance, Ava pulled back the covers and slipped into her dressing gown. As she went through to the living room, she rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. She peered at the clock on the wall: twenty past eleven. Tash, who was sitting at the table, attaching pink feathers to one of her latest creations, looked up and grinned.

  ‘So, you dirty stop-out, where did you get to last night? It must have been one hell of a party.’

  ‘Manchester,’ Ava said.

  ‘Wow. That’s different. Was it good?’

  ‘Not exactly. I had to drive Chris Street up there.’ Ava walked on through to the kitchen where she switched the kettle on. She felt tired and sluggish, in need of a caffeine boost to wake her up properly. Grabbing a mug from the draining board, she shovelled in two teaspoons of coffee. ‘You want one?’ she called back over her shoulder.

  Tash joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the door jamb. ‘Yeah, go on then. So what’s so important you had to go all the way to Manchester?’

  ‘I didn’t ask.’

  ‘Mm, probably wise. So how’s it going? You think he’s going to keep you on?’

  Ava poured hot water into the mugs and got the milk out of the fridge. ‘God, I hope so. I can’t afford to lose this job. I’ve done the trial week and he hasn’t said anything one way or the other. I don’t want to ask in case… well, if it is bad news I’d rather not hear it.’

  ‘It won’t be,’ Tash said, forever the optimist. She paused and then added, ‘Are you doing anything this afternoon?’

  ‘No, nothing planned, although the sofa’s looking pretty attractive right now. I’ll probably just crash, have a lazy day.’

  ‘Do you fancy coming to an exhibition with me? It’s at that Beast place so it’s not far to
go. It’s from three to five and there are cocktails too.’

  Ava pulled a face, remembering her last experience at the gallery. ‘Not really. Since when did you have an interest in stuffed animals?’

  ‘I don’t, but I’ve always reckoned it’s a sin to turn down the offer of free drinks. Besides, there’ll be a lot of rich, fashionable people there. I might be able to make some contacts, do a bit of social networking. Lydia gave me a ticket. It’s a plus one but I don’t have anyone to go with. Hannah’s at work and I don’t really want to go on my own.’

  ‘Who’s Lydia?’

  ‘She works there, at Beast. Just sales and that. She comes into the Fox sometimes. That’s how I got to know her.’

  ‘Well, you won’t be on your own then.’

  ‘But she’ll be working, won’t she? She won’t have time to talk to me.’ Tash flashed one of her brightest smiles. ‘Oh, come on,’ she wheedled. ‘Please. It’s only for a couple of hours and you never know, it might even be fun.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  Tash gave a sigh. ‘Ava Gold,’ she said. ‘You’re in danger of becoming seriously boring.’

  ‘Good. I like boring. I love boring. Is there anything wrong with wanting a nice quiet life?’

  ‘And how old are you exactly?’

  Ava blew on the top of her coffee and took a couple of quick sips. ‘Old enough to know that there are better ways of spending an afternoon than staring at a stuffed weasel.’

  But Tash wasn’t giving up without a fight. ‘You’re coming with me,’ she said. ‘Even if I have to drag you there.’

  11

  Ava’s first surprise, as she walked through the door into Beast, was the number of people who were there. Who’d have thought that an exhibition of stuffed animals would have drawn such a crowd? Her second surprise came as her eyes alighted on the good-looking blond man standing by a makeshift bar.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she murmured, nudging Tash with her elbow.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s him. It’s Guy Wilder.’

  Tash followed her line of sight. ‘So?’

  Ava gazed at Wilder as he handed out brightly coloured cocktails. He was surrounded by a group of women, all stylishly dressed and all vying for his attention. ‘So it’s embarrassing, isn’t it? Last time we met, I was with Chris Street – and the two of them were just about ready to kill each other.’

  Tash gave a shrug. ‘I shouldn’t worry. He won’t remember you.’

  ‘Really? Well, thanks for that. It’s good to know I’m so instantly forgettable.’

  Tash tilted her head and grinned. She was wearing one of her cuter hats, a bright red pill box with a short net veil. ‘Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t. All I’m saying is that he was probably preoccupied. And anyway, what does it matter? It’s not as though he’s got anything against you.’

  ‘I suppose.’ But Ava still felt awkward about coming face to face with him again. ‘Look, why don’t you go and get the drinks and I’ll wait here.’

  ‘Okay, what do you want?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Anything. Surprise me.’ While Tash headed for the bar, Ava began to wander along the cabinets, reading the names of the various exhibits. She wasn’t really interested in the contents, but she took the opportunity to do some people watching and to eavesdrop on their conversations. Morton Carlisle, sporting a tweed jacket and a green bow tie, appeared a few feet away from her and began talking to a middle-aged expensively dressed couple. She could hear him holding forth on the merits of a mounted red fox, on the exquisite artistry and sophisticated technique.

  Ava peered between the couple until she spotted the animal in question. The red fox was standing alert with its ears pricked and its head turned a little to one side. For a second it seemed to be looking straight back at her, its wily eyes staring directly into hers. She felt an odd jolt followed by a pang of sympathy for the remains of the creature trapped forever inside its glass cage. She wondered how it had died, if it had been fast or slow, and if it had even understood the concept of mortality.

  The view of the fox was obscured as the middle-aged woman shifted position. Ava looked across the gallery towards the bar, wondering where Tash had got to with the drinks. There was no sign of her. Guy Wilder was now chatting with a slender, elegant black man and an older grey-haired guy in a suit. His female entourage lurked to one side, waiting – or so she surmised – for an opportunity to join him again.

  As Ava watched, the older guy moved and turned his head slightly. It was then that she thought that she recognised him. But she couldn’t quite place the face. It niggled away at her, her frustration growing by the second. Who was he? Not wanting to be caught staring, she walked along a row of cabinets, pretending to be absorbed in a display of freshwater fish. It was only as she surreptitiously lifted her gaze again, that she suddenly realised. Yes, she’d got it – he was the bloke she’d seen outside the Hope. It was! It was the Russian man, Borovski, the man Chris had bought the falcon for.

  Ava frowned. There was, she knew, no reason why the Russian shouldn’t be here – he obviously had an interest in taxidermy – but something smelled wrong. He seemed very pally with Wilder. Their body language, their easiness with one another, made her certain that they’d known each other for some time. But so what? Just because Wilder and Chris were at loggerheads didn’t mean that Borovski couldn’t have an amiable relationship with them both. And yet…

  Ava drifted along with one eye on the cabinets, the other on the Russian. Don’t get involved, she told herself. Chris Street was old enough and smart enough to take care of himself – he didn’t need her watching out for him. She was paid to be his driver, nothing else. But still her gaze kept flicking towards the two men. They were laughing now, slapping each other on the back, enjoying a private joke. Could she really say nothing to Chris? Was it better or worse to keep her mouth shut about what she was witnessing?

  A waitress walked by with a tray full of cocktails. As Tash still hadn’t come back, Ava grabbed a glass containing something as red as her friend’s hat, thanked the girl and took a few quick sips. Cranberry and some kind of liqueur, she thought. Well, whatever it was, it slipped down nicely. What to do next? Ava was in two minds as to whether to continue her spying activities or to move to another room when she turned to find herself standing right in front of Morton Carlisle.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Miss… er…’

  ‘It’s Ava, Ava Gold.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he said, as if he had once known her name and it had only temporarily slipped his mind. ‘How nice to see you again. Thank you for coming today.’ His eyes slid away from her and made a quick nervous survey of the surrounding area. ‘And is, er… is Mr Street with you?’

  ‘No, I’m here with a friend.’ She found herself glancing around for Tash, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, relief spreading over his face. ‘And you’re enjoying the exhibition?’

  ‘Yes, it’s very…’ Ava scrabbled for a suitable response. ‘Very inspirational.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he said again, clasping his hands together. ‘I’m so glad.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Ava said, trying to edge away from him. ‘And there’s so much more to see. I’d better get on. I don’t want to miss anything.’

  Morton gave a small bow, releasing her from his attention.

  Ava moved off with a sense of relief. She didn’t care for Morton Carlisle, although she couldn’t say exactly why. It was a gut reaction, something that came from deep within her. He was like a shudder under her skin. He reminded her of darkness, of nightmares, of creepy things that went bump in the night.

  Slowly skirting around the main room, Ava made her way closer to the bar. The Russian was still talking to Wilder although others had joined them now. Had she been wrong about what she’d seen? She loitered by a cabinet of snakes, pretending to make a study of the leathery-looking reptiles. The last thing she wanted to do was to stir up trouble.
But if she kept silent and Borovski was closer to Wilder than Chris realised…

  ‘Ah, here you are!’

  Ava, lost in her thoughts, whirled around to find Tash and another girl standing behind her.

  ‘We’ve been looking all over for you,’ said Tash, as if Ava was the one who’d done a disappearing act rather than herself. There was no sign of the drinks she had gone to get; either she had never reached the bar or the cocktails had been drunk along the way. ‘This is Lydia. She’s been a real sweetheart, introducing me to everyone. You wouldn’t believe the people who are here today. God, if I could get a few commissions for my hats it would really make a difference.’ She paused and then quickly added, ‘Oh, Lydia, this is Ava.’