by Roberta Kray
‘What?’
‘She found Troy’s body,’ Harry said. ‘Don’t you read the papers?’
Stagg clearly did. His face went pale. Rising swiftly to his feet, he glared at Harry. ‘She’s a reporter. She’s that reporter. You’ve brought a fucking journalist here?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Harry said. ‘She won’t repeat anything she hears tonight.’
‘And you expect me to believe that?’
Jess shrugged. ‘Believe what you like – but it happens to be true.’
‘You can trust her,’ Harry said. ‘You have my word.’
His word didn’t seem to mean too much. Stagg leaned forward with his two fists balanced on the desk. He looked from one to the other, finally concentrating his attention on Harry. ‘Are you taking the piss?’ he hissed. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t—’
‘Because you need me,’ Harry said. ‘I’m your last resort. That’s why I’m here. Of course if you’re not happy you could always give Jimmy a bell, see how he’s feeling about things.’
Stagg seemed to suddenly deflate. He slowly sank back into his chair. His gaze swung back to Jess. ‘Jessica Vaughan,’ he said, his tone mildly threatening. ‘I’ll remember that name.’
‘That’s why I gave it to you,’ she said, unperturbed. ‘I’m the kind of girl who likes to be remembered.’
Ray took another swig of his Scotch. He played with his glass, rolling it between his fingers, before glancing up and eventually flashing a smile. It was a big smile showing all his bright white teeth. His mood had suddenly changed. He lifted a hand and smoothed back his sleek fair hair. ‘You know, I’ve always liked a woman with balls.’
‘I aim to please.’
‘I like women who do that too.’
Jess gave him a long appraising look. ‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’
Harry leaned forward and put his hands on the desk. He’d had enough of their banter. ‘If we could get back to business?’
‘Sure,’ Stagg said, his sleazy gaze continuing to slide over Jess’s curves.
‘An address for Troy Jeffries would be useful.’
Ray Stagg got up and walked over to a tall filing cabinet in the corner of the room. He rummaged inside for a while, pulled out a sheet of paper, read the details and then replaced it in its file. Sitting back at his desk, he opened a drawer and took out a notepad. He wrote out the address, ripped off the sheet and passed it over to Harry. ‘And don’t bother asking me for the girl’s. I gave it to the cops but it turns out she doesn’t live there.’
‘I’d like it anyway,’ Harry said. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’
Stagg raised his eyes to the ceiling but reluctantly got to his feet again. He went through the same procedure as before. ‘Here,’ he said, pushing the second sheet of notepaper across the desk.
‘Thanks,’ Harry said. He looked at the two addresses. The one for Troy was in Tottenham, the other in Stoke Newington. He folded them up and put them in his pocket. ‘So what do you know about Agnes?’
‘Like what?’
Harry frowned at him. ‘Like who her friends were, who we should be talking to?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Stagg said.
‘She’s your employee – or at least she was.’
‘Yeah,’ Stagg said, ‘my employee, nothing else. There’s a room out the back, a place for the staff to go on their breaks. You can talk to them there, ask them what you like.’
Ray Stagg stood up again and they followed him out of his office, through the foyer and into the dimly lit main part of the club. As they walked in Harry was surprised by how busy it was. For a Tuesday night, it was more crowded than he’d expected, over half the tables occupied by smart-suited city slickers, another quarter by what appeared to be a rowdy birthday party. The music was loud, the atmosphere charged.
Jess leaned against Harry’s shoulder, whispering up into his ear. ‘What’s with the size of that desk?’
He smiled. ‘I think it could be a classic example of male insecurity.’
‘What, some kind of compensation?’ She glanced at Stagg. ‘Yeah, you could have a point.’
‘I’ve never felt the need for a large desk,’ Harry said.
She grinned back at him. ‘No need to brag.’
There was a platform directly in front of them. A slim topless girl, her body oiled and glistening, was gyrating around a pole. Her long fair hair was swinging round her waist. Her hips were slight, her shapely breasts of a size that couldn’t be ignored. Harry paused to admire her natural rhythm.
Jess nudged her elbow into his ribs. ‘Stop leering,’ she said.
‘I’m not leering. I’m detecting.’
‘36D,’ she said. ‘What else do you need to detect?’
Ray Stagg had walked on ahead. He was already standing with the door held open to a room beside the bar.
Jess grabbed Harry’s arm and pushed him forward. ‘You start with the boys. I’ll take the girls.’
Chapter Forty-Two
It was over an hour before they got together again. Harry hadn’t learnt much, other than that the girls slipped on their robes before they came back in and that no one wanted to talk to him. The other barmen, the guys who had worked with Troy, had developed a collective form of amnesia. After four days, none of them could remember him too well. They couldn’t remember much about Al either.
‘Not sure how useful that was,’ he said to Jess as they got back in the car. ‘How about you?’
‘I’ve left a pile of your cards but they’re all pretty scared. They don’t want to end up like Troy. Makes you wonder why they’re still working here.’
‘Because they don’t have a choice,’ Harry said. ‘I bet most of them are illegals – and Stagg’s probably responsible for bringing them in. They won’t be staying out of love or loyalty. There’ll be debts to be paid.’
They were out on the main road before Jess spoke again. ‘Agnes was from the Ukraine. I met another girl, Irina, who was from there too. She didn’t say much, none of them did, but she did mention that Troy Jeffries was pretty keen on Agnes.’
Harry nodded. That didn’t come as any great surprise. He’d seen the way Troy had reacted the first time he’d talked to her and on his next visit he’d only had to mention her name … At the memory of the baseball bat, a sympathetic twinge of pain ran the length of his leg. ‘Were they an item?’
‘No, Agnes wasn’t interested. Had her sights set on higher things apparently.’
That didn’t surprise Harry either – not with that face and body. A girl like her could go a long way. ‘Was there any bad feeling?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Jess said. ‘Irina claimed they were friendly enough. Still, you don’t ever know what’s going on inside another person’s head.’ She paused. ‘Something else that might be useful, though: Troy used to do a bit of dealing. Nothing big-time, just some dope and a bit of coke.’
Harry’s face jerked round. He stared at her. ‘How did you manage to find that out?’
‘Girl talk,’ she said smugly. ‘I’d explain it to you but we’re sworn to secrecy.’
‘Doesn’t that give you an unfair advantage?’
‘Only for most of the time,’ she said.
Harry looked back towards the road. She’d done better than he had although he wasn’t about to admit it. ‘The drugs connection could be an interesting one. I don’t suppose she mentioned who his supplier was?’
Jess shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘and she didn’t tell me who killed him either.’
‘So much for girl power.’
‘So much for male detection,’ she quipped back. ‘Let’s face it, the only useful things you learned tonight were some vital statistics and how lucky you are to have me asking the questions.’
He was still thinking of a way of effectively disputing either of those points when Jess glanced up into the rearview mirror. ‘For God’s sake! What’s that moron playing at?’
Har
ry glanced over his shoulder at the vehicle behind. It was moving quickly and was almost on top of them. The headlamps were dazzling, bright white, and he screwed up his eyes. Suddenly it smashed straight into their rear, bumping them so hard that they hurtled to the left and shot up on to the pavement.
They were both thrown forward, their bodies making a dull double thump as they rebounded back.
‘Shit!’ Jess yelled, twisting the wheel to avoid an oncoming lamppost and struggling to keep the Audi under control. The tyres screeched as the car careered along the pavement for another twenty yards. Fortunately, there was no one walking along it. She quickly swerved back on to the street. Her mouth was open and her face was white.
The car behind accelerated and came for them again. This time the contact was even harder, the crunch of grinding metal disgustingly loud. The Audi lurched forward but stayed on the road.
‘Go left!’ Harry shouted. ‘Left!’
Jess missed the turning and went straight on.
‘Left!’ Harry shouted even louder. He grabbed for the wheel.
Jess slapped his hand away. ‘For fuck’s sake!’
Harry looked over his shoulder. The car was still on their tail. ‘Get off this street!’
Her voice was tight and scared. ‘What do you think I’m trying to do?’
The car was pulling out and drawing alongside. It was bigger, faster and more powerful than the Audi. Harry had just enough time to notice the dark tinted windows before it veered into them again. There was another vile scraping sound as the two cars came into contact. The Audi rocked. For a while, as if conjoined, the two vehicles hurtled down the street together.
Harry caught his breath. If they didn’t do something soon they’d be run off the road and crushed against the wall. They’d end up as sandwich meat.
‘Jess!’
Finally, with a harsh squeal of the brakes, she swerved left. Putting her foot down, she sped down a narrow road between two rows of tightly parked cars. It was a fortunate choice in that it was strictly single file. There was no room for another sideways attack.
The dark car followed but then halfway down the street abruptly stopped. Harry had just enough time to see it stop, flash its lights twice, a deliberate double blink, before they hurtled round another corner.
‘You can slow down,’ he said.
She didn’t.
‘Slow down!’ he demanded. ‘It’s over.’
Jess checked her mirror. She wasn’t taking any chances. ‘They can still catch us.’
‘They’re not going to,’ Harry said. ‘They don’t want to.’
In case his opinion proved to be unduly optimistic, Jess continued on for another five hundred yards. Then, with her rearview mirror still clear, she gradually slowed and pulled in to the side of the road.
‘God,’ she murmured, leaning over the wheel. As if she’d been running, her breath was coming in short fast pants. ‘What the hell was that? Who the hell was that?’
Harry leaned back in his seat. His heart was still pumping. ‘Someone sending out a warning.’
‘You call that a warning?’ She glared at him. ‘Some bastard just tried to kill us.’
He shook his head. ‘If they’d wanted to kill us, they would have. They didn’t have to stop. I think it might have been the same car that was at Ellen’s yesterday.’
Jess gave a start. ‘Keppell,’ she said softly. She thought about it a moment and shivered. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one with a shaky hand. Her voice was small and tight. ‘So who was the warning for – you or me?’
‘Hard to say,’ Harry shrugged. ‘Either of us. Both, maybe. I’ve been searching for Al, asking questions, talking to Stagg – he might think I’m getting too close to something. On the other hand, you’ve been digging around in the Paul Deacon case.’
They sat in silence for a while. There was a Chinese takeaway across the street. People came and went with nothing more to worry about than their rumbling stomachs.
Jess was the first to speak again. ‘Shouldn’t we call the cops?’
‘Yeah,’ Harry said, ‘but not right now. Let’s head back to your place and call them from there.’
‘And tell them what?’
‘The truth,’ Harry said.
‘And what would that be exactly?’
They looked at each other. They both had their reasons for not wanting too say too much to the police.
‘That we’d been out for a meal, that some drunk smashed into us on the way back?’ Harry suggested.
Jess nodded. ‘I can live with that. You want to get out, take a look at the damage before we go?’
‘I’d rather not.’
Chapter Forty-Three
The police had come and gone without asking too many questions and for this Harry was thankful. He’d had no desire to lie outright to them – at heart he was still a copper himself – but in the event it hadn’t been necessary. Their story of a drunken driver had been accepted at face value, the details logged and a crime number provided. Now they were waiting for Snakey Harris to arrive. It was just after midnight.
Jess put another mug of coffee in front of him, pulled up a chair and sat down across the table. ‘Snakey?’
‘It’s the tattoos. He looks like a walking advert for the Reptile House.’
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘And he doesn’t mind doing call-outs at this time of night?’
‘I did him a favour once. Anyway, he’s not too far from here – he’s got a garage round the back of Dalston – and he tends to keeps late hours.’
‘What kind of favour?’ Jess said.
Harry looked at her and smiled. ‘What do they do to you reporters – genetically modify your brains so you can’t stop asking questions?’
She tilted her head to one side, studying him. ‘I was just curious. And now that you’re growing all evasive, I’m getting even more interested.’
‘I wasn’t being evasive. I was making a perfectly valid point.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Point taken. So what favour did you do for him?’
Harry could see that he wouldn’t get any rest until he told her. Or at least told her something. The detail of Snakey’s unfortunate foray into the world of stolen cars was probably best forgotten. ‘Let’s just say that he got himself in a bit of trouble. He was mixing with people that he shouldn’t have and they took advantage. It was a few years back. He’s not a bad bloke and I helped him out.’
‘And now, in return, he helps you out.’
The smile faded from Harry’s lips. Perhaps he was being unduly touchy but there was an edge to her tone that suggested a hint of impropriety about the arrangement. ‘He doesn’t do it for free, if that’s what you’re implying. I pay him for the work he does.’
Jess quickly raised her hands. ‘Hey, I wasn’t casting aspersions. I know you’re a man of thoroughly upstanding principles.’
Harry frowned. She was the only person he knew who could make the words ‘thoroughly upstanding principles’ sound like their very opposite. As it happened he did always pay Snakey although it was also true that the charges for his car’s yearly service and any repairs that were required came to rather less than any other garage he had ever used. This job, however, would go through the insurance company – giving Snakey plenty of scope to push up the bill and enhance his profit margins.
Jess laughed. ‘You ever consider that you might occasionally be a little … over-sensitive about things?’
Harry realized that he was being teased but wasn’t really in the mood for it. ‘I thought women liked sensitive.’
‘Sometimes,’ she said.
‘But not always.’
‘It’s not always appropriate.’
Harry was saved from having to make a response by the dull flat sound of the intercom buzzer. He crossed the room and answered it. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s me.’
‘I’ll be right there.’
‘Is that him?�
� Jess asked.
Harry nodded, went out into the main hallway and opened the front door. Snakey Harris was standing on the top step. He was a lean tallish man in his late forties with thinning salt and pepper hair and a long narrow face. In need of a shave, his cheeks had a dark purplish tinge to them.
‘Thanks for coming out,’ Harry said. ‘I appreciate it.’
Snakey lifted his shoulders in a slow graceful shrug, smiled and walked back down the steps. ‘That’s all right, Mr Lind.’
Harry followed. He had long since given up asking Snakey to call him by his Christian name; it was something that he clearly didn’t feel comfortable with.
The Audi was parked twenty feet away under a street lamp. Snakey carefully circled the car, running his fingers along the damage and making a deep tutting sound in the back of his throat. ‘Had a spot of bother, then?’
Harry, standing back, stared at the smashed rear end. There was some serious damage to the side panels too. He presumed it was a rhetorical question. ‘Can you sort it?’
‘Sure.’
‘How long?’ Harry asked.
‘About a week,’ Snakey said. He nodded across the street. ‘I’ve got you something until it’s fixed.’
Harry followed his gaze. A white Vauxhall was parked behind Snakey’s tow truck. Grimy and battered, it looked on the verge of falling apart. ‘Impressive,’ he said. ‘Nought to sixty in less than an hour?’
‘You said you didn’t want anything too flash.’
‘And you’ve certainly provided that.’
Snakey threw the keys at him. ‘It runs. What more do you want?’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
‘So what happened?’ Snakey asked. He was roaming around the Audi again, his fingers delving into all the dents and grooves. ‘This was more than an accident, right?’
‘Some drunk,’ Harry said.
Snakey peered at him, his brown eyes bright with suspicion. ‘A very determined drunk,’ he said. ‘You in trouble, Mr Lind?’
‘No more than usual.’
As if that told him all he needed to know, Snakey gave a resigned shake of his head.
