by Roberta Kray
He lightly cleared his throat before continuing. ‘You know, my father’s not been very well recently. He’s been working too hard and … Well, he’s not as young as he was and I’m concerned that things have been getting on top of him. The trouble is that sometimes, in these situations, people have a tendency to take advantage.’
The stain darkened on her cheeks. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting—’
‘Good Lord, no!’ he exclaimed. He reached forward to touch her on the arm, allowing his hand to linger. ‘I know I can trust you, Louise. That’s why I’m telling you all this. I know I can rely on your absolute discretion.’ Slowly, as if with the greatest of reluctance, he removed his fingers. He sighed. ‘Unfortunately your predecessor wasn’t of the same calibre. I don’t want to go into detail but suffice to say she had neither your integrity nor your principles. And it’s worrying, very worrying, that she might attempt to approach my father again. So I was thinking, if you could maybe keep an eye on the situation, let me know if she calls or writes … for his own sake naturally’
The light dawned. He wanted to recruit her as his personal spy!
Mistaking her silence for a shy combination of acceptance and awe, he bestowed another of his well-practised smiles. He gently patted her arm again. ‘I knew you’d understand.’ Then, as if an unspoken agreement had been signed and sealed, he snaked upright, smoothed the invisible creases in his trousers and headed for the door.
As it closed behind him, Louise sat back and raised her eyes to the ceiling. It was hard to imagine that, like all the other girls, she’d once had an almighty crush on him. Now she was seeing him for precisely what he was: underneath that sleek exterior was nothing but pure slime.
Originally she’d been disappointed to be posted to the subterranean depths of the building. It had felt like a backward step, an embarrassing demotion, but to her surprise she had found that it had certain advantages. Henry Baxter was kind, polite and respectful. Apart from his pedantic attention to detail, he was otherwise undemanding; there were no added obligations, no errands, no items of dry cleaning to pick up, no constant demands for coffee or tedious sandwich runs.
She had soon adjusted to her new environment.
Even the clients were more agreeable. Elderly gentlemen for the most, they treated her with a quiet old-fashioned courtesy. Compared to the glitzy world of the upper floors, their attentions were sedate and curiously old-fashioned but she didn’t miss the occasional glimpses of the rich and famous or their arrogant dismissive glances. She didn’t miss the gossip of the other secretaries either. With her less-than-rampant love life and her conservative taste in clothes, she had never really fitted in.
Upstairs, she had been invisible. Here, she felt valued.
And if Richard Baxter thought she was going to give all this up for a fleeting touch of his smarmy hand he had another think coming.
Eve huddled behind the wheel and lit a cigarette. She had to calm her nerves before she started back. The visit had been nothing but bad news. She had walked in with one problem and come out with another. What were the odds? She had to talk to Terry. She had to see him soon.
Opening the window, she glowered at the red brick building ahead. Cavelli was probably back on the wing by now, quietly gloating over his latest triumph. He had her exactly where he wanted. Damn! This whole Jimmy Reece business stank. If she did find him, whoever he was, what would it mean? What did Cavelli intend to do? She shut her eyes tight. She didn’t want to go there.
The less she knew the better.
Gradually, the other visitors pulled away until the car park was almost deserted. Alerted by the guttural sound of a motor in distress, she glanced across to see a bright red Mini with its bonnet up, a swirling gust of thick grey smoke, and one very unhappy woman. Eve groaned. If waving your arms and swearing blind was the way to fix an engine then Amber would shortly be putting every local mechanic out of business.
She wanted to get home but couldn’t just drive away and leave her stranded. Reluctantly, she got out of the car and walked across the forecourt. ‘Are you okay?’
It was a question, like so many she’d volunteered this afternoon, which barely seemed worth the effort of asking. Together, they stared down at the steaming mass of hot twisted metal.
‘What’s the matter with it?’ Amber asked.
Eve peered inside and sighed. ‘God knows. But it looks pretty terminal. You’d better ring your breakdown people.’
She stared at her. ‘Huh?’
‘You know, the AA, whoever you’re with.’
‘Er …’
Eve felt another crisis looming. She wasn’t sure if she could deal with it. ‘Oh, please tell me you’re kidding.’
Amber’s lower lip trembled and her face started to crumple. ‘How am I going to get home?’ she wailed. ‘What am I going to do?’
Putting an arm around her shoulder, Eve tried to offer some comfort. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out.’ But clearly the only way it was going to be sorted was if she did something about it. ‘You wait here. I’ll see if I can find someone.’
She went back into the Visitors’ Centre and asked if they had a directory she could borrow. As she flicked through the pages she considered ringing the garage her father had used but then had second thoughts. There was probably an outstanding bill and she couldn’t afford to be landed with it.
‘That your car?’ the young screw asked, glancing out of the window.
She followed his gaze. Amber was still glaring down at the engine as if the sheer force of her personality might will it back to life.
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m just helping out.’
‘She a friend of yours then?’
Hearing a hint of incredulity, Eve looked up. ‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘No reason.’
But his brown eyes, shifting sideways, suggested something different.
‘Is there—’
‘Here,’ he said, scribbling down a number on a scrap of paper. ‘Try this place. They’re reliable and not too pricey. I’ve used them before. Might take them a while to get here though.’
‘Thanks.’
She got out her phone and dialled. Within a couple of minutes and after some minor persuasion – she was getting used to the fine art of begging – she was able to make the necessary arrangements.
‘You were right,’ she said as she hung up. ‘It’ll be a couple of hours. Do we have to stay here or can we just leave the car? I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a tow-job.’
As if a tow-job was the kind of service the lads got down the local brothel, he sniggered. Then, seeing her expression, he quickly straightened his face. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll make sure security knows.’
‘Thanks,’ she said again. ‘Thanks for all your help.’ She was tempted to pursue their earlier exchange but decided against it. You could never tell with screws, some were the wind-up merchants from hell and others were as thick as a 50-tog duvet. And even if he was neither, she was pretty sure that he had said as much as he was going to. She did, however, take the time to read the name tag on his shirt and to make a mental note of it: David Hammond. You could never tell. It might come in useful one day.
As Eve turned and walked towards the door she could feel his eyes on her. Perhaps he was admiring her remarkable self-restraint. She glanced back. No, he was just staring at her arse.
They were starting to hit the rush hour traffic. Eve could have dropped Amber off at the station but it had seemed pretty pointless her travelling all the way back to Essex only to turn around and come straight back tomorrow. But she was still fretting over her decision to invite her to stay overnight. Herbert Street was hardly a safe haven. What if something happened while she was there? What if the man from the alley was waiting and …
That was one anxiety but she had plenty more. She was still pondering on what the screw had said, or rather what he’d implied, about her helping Amber out. Or had he? Maybe that was just her paranoia workin
g overtime.
But even that wasn’t especially important. There were far more serious worries circling her mind. While Amber chattered on, Eve nodded her head and murmured the obligatory ‘listening’ sounds as she tried to prioritize all her other fears. Terry was right at the top of the list. Perhaps he had been more involved in the Broadlands job. As Cavelli had said, why would the Rowans lie about it? But then he could hardly be trusted himself. If there was a Nobel prize for smart double-dealing manipulation he’d be picking up a generous cheque before the year was out. She scowled through the windscreen. Although if he was lying, he must realize that she’d eventually find out.
And then there was Lesley. As she thought of her, Eve’s foot began to ache again. Did Lesley know the truth? Perhaps that was why she’d been so uptight, so stubborn, so unwilling to give Terry any more chances. Eve hadn’t been around when he’d been arrested. All she knew was what her father had told her. And that was nothing much. Only that he was in trouble again.
She pulled up at the lights, tapping her fingers restively against the wheel. On top of all that were the threats, this crazy Joe business. She was still no closer to knowing who he was – or what he wanted.
‘So have you two been together long?’
‘What?’
‘You and your fella,’ Amber said. ‘Is it serious?’
It was serious all right, but not in the way she thought. ‘No, Martin’s not my … We’re just good friends. I’ve known him for years.’
‘Oh,’ she murmured.
Then Eve suddenly remembered. She’d been stressing over so many other things, she’d almost forgotten about her new ‘arrangement’ with Cavelli. Weren’t they supposed to be an item? Damn! Perhaps she ought to suggest that their friendship was moving on, that …
But then, surprisingly, Amber started to laugh. As if in relief, she raised a hand to her chest and made a small fluttery motion with her fingers. ‘Thank God for that!’
‘What is it?’ Eve gazed at her, puzzled.
‘It’s just that last week …’ She took a moment to recover her composure. ‘Well, he had this other girl on a visit. A blonde piece, not classy or nothing. Had a mouth on her too. You know the type. All over him she was. And you’ve been so nice to me, I didn’t know whether to say. I mean, it’s not really my business and I didn’t want to cause you grief.’
Eve grinned. She could see how it might have created a dilemma. And it explained why Cavelli might be rather short on visiting orders. Well, she couldn’t change her story now without causing major embarrassment. And anyway, it didn’t really matter. Just so long as the screws believed it …
‘Lots of blokes are at it,’ she continued. ‘They see different girls on different days. I’d fucking kill my Dan if he did that to me. I thought she might, you know, be his bit on the side. That’s why I was asking, if it was serious like.’
The lights changed to green and the traffic began to move again. Eve edged the car forward. ‘Of course I could have been the bit on the side.’
She shook her head. ‘No, you’re not the type.’
‘What, too dull?’
‘No!’ she insisted. ‘Because you’re way too smart to put up with any crap like that.’
Smart? Considering her current circumstances, Eve didn’t think that was the most apt description but she accepted the comment with a smile. She wondered vaguely who the mystery girl might be. Not Paula, that was for sure. Anyway, it was no concern of hers. Who Cavelli chose to see was entirely his own business.
‘Just out of interest,’ she asked, ‘if we had been an item, would you have told me?’
Amber frowned before lifting her shoulders in a tiny indecisive shrug. ‘I dunno. It’s rank seeing someone being messed about, especially someone you like, but … well, if you spill it’s always going to cause big trouble. Don’t you reckon? That kind of trouble always comes back one way or another. And not just on you but on your man too. You know what I mean? It’s like being a grass or something.’
Eve shuddered at the words. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Although it’s hard,’ Amber muttered. ‘I mean, you don’t want to get caught in the middle but then I’d really want to know if Dan was cheating, doing the dirty. And if someone else found out and they didn’t tell me, then I’d feel …’
Eve sensed that they’d hit a sore point. Dan, she suspected, might have a rather bad track record in the field of fidelity. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t.’
Amber didn’t look convinced. As if she might be about to cry, her eyes had assumed a liquid quality. ‘You can’t—’
‘If it helps,’ she said quickly, hoping to divert from any emotional outbursts, ‘I spend a fair amount of time at Hillgrove and I’ve never seen him with anyone else. Did I tell you that my brother Terry is in there too?’
This surprising piece of information proved a big enough distraction to keep the tears at bay. ‘God, so you have to visit both of them?’
Eve laughed. ‘Well, it’s not obligatory. But as I only live down the road it’s not too great a hardship. Anyway, all I’m saying is that I don’t think you have to worry. I’ve never seen your Dan on a visit with anyone else. I’m sure he’s not messing you around.’ What she didn’t mention was that she wouldn’t have recognized the whinging Dan if he’d been placed in a line-up of two at the local nick. Today, at the kiosk, was the first time she’d actually looked at him but she’d been so preoccupied that her memory of his features was a complete blank.
Amber’s mouth curled into a smile. ‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’ Mentally, Eve crossed her fingers, hoping that the lie wouldn’t come back to haunt her. And not just for her own sake. For all her mindless chatter, she liked Amber. At least she said what she thought – and that made a refreshing change.
By now they were approaching Herbert Street. Although another crisis had been temporarily averted, Eve was instantly on red alert again. They were almost home and she was starting to get anxious. What if someone was waiting? There was safety in numbers but she didn’t want to put her guest in danger. It was hardly the most hospitable of moves, inviting someone to stay only to have them attacked by some violent, filthy, foulmouthed hood.
She drove slowly around the corner and pulled up at an empty space outside the café. She looked in her mirror. Nothing suspicious. She looked around. Usually she was back earlier but with all the problems over the car it was almost six o’clock and the street for once was reasonably busy, too busy she hoped for anyone to take the risk of another attack. The commuters were on their way to the station and the kids, out of school, were strutting their stuff and trying to look cool as they loitered outside the chippy.
No, there were too many potential witnesses.
She got out of the car. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a movement. But then she was starting to see shadows everywhere. She had to pull herself together. She forced herself not to look over her shoulder again.
They were approaching the door to the flats when his voice cut through the air.
‘Eve!’
She turned to see Jack Raynor walking towards her. Her heart sank. God, this was the last thing she needed!
‘I was just passing,’ he said.
She raised her brows. No one just passed along Herbert Street. Not unless they lived in the vicinity, were after a fish and chip supper … or were searching for a whore. And Jack, armed with a perfect bouquet of soft cream roses, didn’t seem to fit into any of those categories.
‘I wanted to say thanks for the other evening, for keeping me company.’
‘My,’ Amber murmured admiringly. And she wasn’t just looking at the flowers. Her eyes made a blatant scan of his body, from his pretty blue eyes to the tips of his toes. She gave a soft appreciative sigh.
Eve skipped the introductions and quickly thrust the keys into her hand. ‘It’s on the top floor,’ she said. ‘Number five. I’ll catch you up.’
She hoped Amber was too you
ng and inexperienced to sniff out a cop. If not, and this ever got back to Cavelli, she’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
Chapter Twelve
Cavelli stopped by the open cell door. ‘Can we talk?’
Bryant, who was sitting reading a newspaper, slowly raised his head. His two lackeys, a pair of brainless bruisers, put their hard faces on and sneered.
‘Busy,’ one of them said.
‘Fuck off!’ the other contributed.
‘Five minutes,’ Cavelli said, ignoring them both. He addressed the boss directly, looking straight into his eyes.
Bryant thought about it for a long second but eventually nodded.
Cavelli stepped forward. ‘In private,’ he added.
One of the morons opened his mouth but was silenced with a glance. Their master flapped a hand. ‘Wait outside.’
Obediently, they got to their feet. As they swaggered through the door they took the opportunity to practise their glaring technique. One of them gave a low threatening growl. Cavelli grinned back. He’d known tough men in his time and these two didn’t even come close.
He turned to Bryant. ‘Don’t you ever tire of the intellectual conversation?’
A smile quivered on his lips. ‘Whatever you want, make it quick. I haven’t got all day.’ He gestured towards a chair.
George Bryant didn’t exactly run the wing – Hillgrove was a low security prison and cons weren’t usually around long enough to establish a truly effective power base – but for the moment he had more influence than most. An intelligent man, approaching fifty, he was in the final years of a long murder sentence. He had seen it all and done worse.
Cavelli sat down. ‘It’s about Terry Weston. You know what’s going down?’
‘You tell me.’
‘The Rowans are claiming he’s a grass.’
Bryant nodded. ‘That’s what I’ve heard.’
‘Well, I’ve heard different.’ Cavelli splayed his palms across his wide thighs and leaned forward. ‘I’ve heard the Rowans are full of shit.’
