by Roberta Kray
He didn’t smile back. ‘I think we need to talk.’
Eve couldn’t argue with that. ‘I guess,’ she said. In a way it was a relief, cutting straight to the chase. At least they weren’t going to spend ages dancing around the subject. This way she didn’t have to start explaining everything. Or to start laying blame either. The sooner they could put this behind them the better. She leaned forward and smiled again.
‘Look, I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen but … well, we might have a deal but you have to agree that it never included the rest of this stuff. And I’m not asking any questions. Believe me, I don’t want to know. I’m not interested. All I am asking is that whoever this Joe is, that you sort it out. Just get him off my back.’
He stared at her. ‘What?’
‘I don’t know what he wants and I really hope that I don’t have it. But if I do, then it has to stop. Surely you can see that? I can’t spend the rest of my life a prisoner in my own home.’ As soon as she said it, she flinched. Bearing in mind his circumstances, it was hardly the most diplomatic turn of phrase. ‘I mean, I don’t want to be afraid to go out. I don’t want to be scared to answer my own phone. We’ve got a deal, okay, I understand that, but you never mentioned anything about—’
He shifted forward and raised his hand. ‘Hey, slow down, slow down. What the hell are you talking about?’
Eve frowned. ‘About being followed, about the threats …’
‘What threats?’
She glared at him. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘News to me,’ he said. ‘What’s the matter? You been having trouble?’
It was the grin on his face that raised her hackles. She was sorely tempted to call him a liar but that was hardly going to smooth the road towards conciliation. Yet despite her best efforts, she couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of her tone. ‘So don’t tell me, you don’t know anyone called Joe either?’
As it happens,’ he said, ‘I do. Joe Callaghan. But he’s seventy-eight and living in Skipton. Is he the one who’s been hassling you?’ The grin grew wider. ‘He always did have a weakness for redheads.’
She sat back in her chair and scowled. ‘I’m glad you think it’s a joke.’
‘I don’t know what it is,’ he said. ‘I don’t have a fucking clue.’
But she wasn’t prepared to just roll over. Cavelli, she was certain, knew more than he was letting on. ‘So if this has nothing to do with you, why did you go to so much trouble over the door?’
He shrugged. ‘Can’t a man do a favour for a friend?’ He stressed the word as if it amused him. ‘You sounded worried. I thought you might appreciate some extra protection. It’s tough for you ladies out there on your own.’
She narrowed her eyes. God, there were some things she could take but being patronized by a six foot four smirking gorilla wasn’t one of them. ‘Extra protection for your boxes, more like.’
‘That too,’ he agreed. ‘I admit it. No one wants to see their personal belongings trashed.’
‘What, as opposed to their friends?’
With a leer, he slowly looked her up and down. ‘You don’t look too trashed to me.’
Eve took a deep breath. Don’t rise to it. Stay calm and collected. Remember? The worst thing she could do was to lose her cool. She had to think of Terry. Cavelli might be a cheap lecherous bastard but at least the bruises had faded from her brother’s face.
But that didn’t solve the problem of where to go next. It was like banging her head against a brick wall; all she was achieving was one almighty headache. It was pointless even trying to get the truth out of him. But she still made one final attempt, laying it out in black and white. ‘So you don’t know this Joe? You don’t know who he is? You don’t know why his goons have been threatening me or asking for it back?’
‘Like I said, I’ve never heard of him.’ He folded his wide muscled arms across his chest. ‘Maybe you need to look a little closer to home.’
She frowned. ‘Meaning?’
‘Maybe someone from your own past.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped, losing patience. ‘Stop playing games. I’m only here because you sent a visiting order. That’s why you wanted to see me, isn’t it, because of what’s been happening?’
‘Fuck no,’ he said.
She stared at him.
‘I think you’ll need a drink first. Mine’s a tea.’
Eve was glad to get away, even if it was only as far as the kiosk. What did he mean? Her stomach was turning somersaults again. She glanced across the room and saw Amber leaning in close to Dan, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings. If only life were so simple …
She carried the two plastic cups back to the table. ‘So what’s this about?’
‘What do you think? Terry of course.’
‘What about him?’ She could feel her heart start to quicken. ‘Has something happened? Is he okay?’ Her hand jerked and some of the tea spilled out across the table.
Cavelli leaned forward and mopped at it with a tissue. ‘He’s fine. For the moment. But I need to know if it’s true.’
Now it was her turn to look bemused. ‘Is what true?’
He scrunched up the damp tissue in his fist. ‘Is Terry a grass?’
Eve’s mouth fell open. She stared at him aghast. ‘Terry?’ She shook her head. ‘Christ, of course not. Why are you asking that?’
‘Because there’s a rumour going round.’
‘There can’t be. I don’t understand.’
Her voice must have risen, panic invading its tone, because Cavelli drew a finger to his lips. ‘Keep it down,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder at the screws. ‘I’m not saying I believe it, I’m just telling you how it is.’
Eve’s face, at first hot, now turned cold and clammy. She knew what happened to grasses in prison. She shivered. ‘It isn’t true. It isn’t. Where’s it coming from?’
‘I take it you’ve heard of the Rowan brothers.’
She nodded. ‘The Broadlands robbery. It’s what Terry got sent down for, handling the stolen property. He—’ She stopped abruptly. ‘So it’s them? But why would they? It doesn’t make any sense. Terry’s serving a sentence too.’
‘Twelve months,’ he said. ‘Six if he keeps out of trouble. It hardly compares to fifteen years.’
‘But it was only handling,’ she repeated.
Cavelli gave her one of his dark looks. ‘Was it? You see, the rumour is that Terry was on the job too. Only strangely most of the evidence against him went missing. You can see how that might appear from their point of view.’
Eve’s head was reeling. ‘But he wasn’t on the job,’ she insisted.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes!’
‘So why would the Rowans make up a story like that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, briefly covering her face with her hands. ‘It’s crazy.’ She couldn’t think straight. And to make matters worse, a tiny seed of doubt was growing in the back of her mind. She couldn’t actually put her hand on her heart and swear that Terry hadn’t been more involved. What if he had? Over the past few years he’d been getting into deeper and deeper trouble. The only thing she was sure of was that he couldn’t be a grass.
‘Eve?’ He was still waiting for an explanation.
‘Perhaps they’re after some kind of legal appeal, something to muddy the waters.’
Cavelli shrugged. ‘It’s possible. But that doesn’t explain why they want to hurt him.’
His words hit like a violent punch to the stomach. ‘Hurt him?’ she croaked.
‘Men like the Rowans can get very bitter and resentful.’
Eve was starting to feel sick. This was turning into a nightmare. ‘He’s not a grass,’ she said. ‘You don’t know Terry. He’s not. He’d never do anything like that.’
There were a few awkward seconds of silence.
‘You must see how difficult this makes it for me.’ He shifted in his seat and sighed.
‘With these rumours going round, these accusations, I really can’t afford to—’
‘There’s no need to spell it out.’ It was a devastating blow but there was nothing she could do about it. She’d have to make other arrangements, go to the Governor, get Terry moved into solitary. It wasn’t the best solution –going down the block would be like admitting his guilt – but at least he’d be safe there. ‘You’re pulling the plug, right? You can’t protect him any more.’
But then he surprised her. ‘I didn’t say that. If you’re giving me your word that he’s not a grass then I’m prepared to accept it.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘You are?’
‘Sure,’ he said. Then he paused, a grimace curling down the corners of his mouth. ‘It’s just that it makes it so much harder. You understand? A bit of bullying on the wing I can sort, no problem, but something like this … Well, it could get much nastier.’ He sighed again. ‘And that means a lot of time and effort, not to mention extra muscle. And that means …’
She got his drift; it was floating over loud and clear: Cavelli’s price had just gone up. ‘How much do you want?’
He frowned. ‘Oh, don’t be like that. Surely one good turn deserves another.’
‘How much?’ she repeated stonily.
‘It’s not money. Have I ever asked for money?’ That smug expression had appeared again. ‘But there is one little favour you could do for me.’
Eve shuddered. She was still recovering from the last favour she’d done. ‘How do I even know you’re telling the truth about these rumours? What if you’re making it all up?’
‘Fine,’ he said, sitting back. ‘Let’s wait and see.’
She wished she had the nerve to call his bluff but she didn’t. If anything happened to Terry she’d never forgive herself. But it was hard to give in graciously. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, ‘you’ve got a few more boxes you need putting into storage?’
‘No.’
She waited but he didn’t continue. ‘So?’
‘So there’s no point if you’re not interested.’
Eve gripped her hands together in her lap. Now wasn’t the time to get into a battle of wills. She had to put her own feelings aside. She had to beg, plead, even get down on her bended knees if that was what it took. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I am interested. Of course I am. Just tell me what you want.’
That familiar smirk appeared on his face again. ‘And you’ll do it?’
They were back to square one, to the first time they’d met. And just like then, he had the upper hand. He was still holding all the cards. She took a deep breath. ‘Anything.’
As if savouring the moment, his tongue flicked out and slid along his lips. His heavy brows lifted. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ She forced a smile.
He paused, giving her another of his long scrutinizing looks. ‘This is serious, Evie.’
On hearing that version of her name again, she instinctively flinched. For one dark second she was back in the alley. Don’t mess us about, Evie. And she suddenly realized that she still hadn’t got any answers, still didn’t know why she’d been threatened. Yet here she was, preparing to jump in even deeper. It was madness. But what choice did she have?
‘I am serious,’ she said. ‘I swear. I promise.’
But still he made her sweat. Frowning, he gazed sullenly around the room as if trying to make up his mind as to whether she could be trusted.
‘Tell me what you want,’ she urged.
‘It isn’t much. I …’ As if to layer on the agony, he hesitated again. ‘I just want you to find someone for me.’
‘Find someone?’
He shrugged. ‘But if you don’t think you can do it …’
‘Who?’ she asked quickly. ‘Just give me their name.’
‘All right,’ he finally said. ‘It’s Jimmy Reece. R, double e. Also known as James Reece. He’ll be in London somewhere. Turn over a sordid rock or two and he should crawl out. Soho’s as good a place as any to start.’
Eve tried not to look as disheartened as she felt. So now she had to go poking around the red-light district searching for some sleazeball. ‘Why do you want to find him?’
It was a question she instantly regretted.
Cavelli’s eyes darkened. ‘That’s my business,’ he said. ‘Terry’s yours. Are you up for it or not?’
Like she had a choice. She nodded earnestly. ‘But I’ll need a few more details. I mean, like how old is he, what does he look like, what does he do?’
‘Do your homework,’ he snapped back, ‘and you’ll soon find out.’ Then, as if regretting the outburst, he added in a more moderate tone: ‘He’s about forty, a lush, a junkie, used to be a so-called actor. And be discreet, okay? Don’t ever mention my name. All I want to know is where he is, who he’s with, and what he’s doing now.’
‘Okay,’ she said. This wasn’t sounding good but Cavelli had her in a corner. ‘That’s fine. I’ll find him.’ Inwardly, she tried to justify it to herself. After all, she wouldn’t be doing anything that a private eye couldn’t. The only difference was that her bill came in the form of protection for Terry.
A look of satisfaction appeared on his face. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’ll be waiting to hear from you.’
As she rose to leave, he gestured her back down. ‘Oh, and there’s one more thing. You should start writing to me.’
‘Writing?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘letters. You know the type of thing, bits of paper that go in envelopes. One or two a week should do. Write and tell me how much you miss me, how much you’re looking forward to seeing me again. The usual stuff. I’m sure if you dig deep enough you can find some suitably heart-warming phrases.’
Confusion swept over Eve, along with a sensation that bordered on repulsion. Then anger swept into her eyes. How dare he! She glared at him. Okay, so she was hardly an innocent – she was more than prepared to use her charms to get what she wanted – but that still didn’t mean she was his for the taking. Far from it. What did his perverted mind imagine, that she was part of this deal too, that she came with the package, that—
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ he said, observing her expression. ‘What do you think I am? I’m not that fucking desperate.’ He laughed. Then he leaned forward, keeping his voice low. ‘It’s a means to an end, sweetheart, nothing more. I thought you’d realize that. It’s an easy way for me to get hold of an extra visiting order. If anything urgent comes up then just say that you have to see me, that we have to talk, some crap like that. Put it in writing and make it emotional.’ He glanced around, wary as always of anyone who might be listening. ‘Woman trouble – this place is full of it. Threaten to leave me and they’ll be handing out VOs like sweeties. But first it needs to be established that we have some kind of a relationship. All the letters get read by the screws so try and make it convincing, huh?’
Eve’s initial rush of relief was rapidly replaced by a seething resentment. He had led her on deliberately, she was sure he had. He had done it just to wind her up, to have a laugh at her expense, to keep control. Well, not to worry, she wasn’t going to walk away without getting the last word. But first things first. Although she didn’t relish the prospect of a regular correspondence she could see that it had its advantages. Accordingly, she nodded. ‘Sweet nothings it is then.’
He grinned. ‘And it would help, when you visit, if you tried to look a little more affectionate and a little less like you hated my guts.’
Now he was really pushing his luck.
But she nodded again. ‘Okay. I get it.’
As they both rose to their feet, she placed a hand on his arm. He looked down at her. She looked up. If she had a moment’s hesitation – a man with eyes this cold really shouldn’t be crossed – she rapidly dismissed it. Rising on to her toes, she tentatively leaned forward as if to kiss him. She waited until the last possible moment, until his mouth was moving towards hers, before smartly averting her face. With her cheek against
his, she softly whispered in his ear: ‘That’s the thing about relationships, don’t you find? There’s always such a thin line between love and hate.’
Ivor Patterson was feeling pretty smug when he rang the office and made his excuses. He spluttered dramatically down the line. He wasn’t too well, a bad dose of the flu. Yes, it did seem to be doing the rounds. No, he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. They’d have to find some cover. Naturally, he’d forward his report; he’d send it through straight away. He replaced the receiver and laughed out loud. There was no point standing round street corners when he already had 2K in the bag.
The shakedown couldn’t have gone better. The photographs had provided the coup de grâce. The expression on Peter Marshall’s face had been priceless, a wondrous combination of astonishment and fear. Maybe he should have asked for more. But no, a couple of grand would do fine. A holiday was what he’d spend it on, somewhere hot and relaxing, maybe the USA. He’d always fancied Florida.
The call had come a few hours ago. A week, just seven days, was all he had to wait. In the meantime he’d grab a beer, put his feet up and relax …
Louise shifted forward a fraction as Richard Baxter leaned over her shoulder. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. ‘Keeping busy?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured.
He hovered for a moment before sliding around and perching casually on the edge of the desk. He smiled. ‘Lord, it’s dreary down here, isn’t it? Positively dismal. Must be like working in a mine.’
Unwilling to give offence, she produced a small smile too. ‘It’s not so bad.’
‘Well, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we can find room back upstairs before too long. This is hardly the place for a girl like you.’
Louise felt a faint flush suffusing her face. So far as she could recall, this was the most he had ever said to her in the past two years; she had been so far outside his orbit that she may as well have been living on a different planet. Now he was suddenly gazing into her eyes with what could only be described as rapt attention. She might have been flattered if she hadn’t been a realist. She knew she was pretty but only in a quiet rather undefined kind of way. She could never compare to the more startling beauty that stalked the upper floors. Richard Baxter was after something … but it certainly wasn’t her body.
