Detective Amanda Lacey Box Set

by Linda Coles

  Only a handful of those who indulged in his service had ever escalated their desires to another level, but that had never happened on the operator’s watch. He knew the temptations his clients faced, so he took precautions of his own. What his clients didn’t realize, and would never realize, was that there was a small discreet team assigned to them too, watching out for the giver’s safety both during and after the transaction. It only took one overexuberant client to spoil things, and the operator fiercely guarded against it. He had eyes and ears on every transaction at all times. But that was another story. Or service.

  Fifteen minutes later, he got the confirmation that the target had been confirmed, and the image of a woman filled his screen. The first thing he noticed about her was her telling face. She looked troubled, but then the client who had activated their device was particularly skilled in seeking out someone with the desired past or problem to be solved, and he’d been doing it long enough.

  With a few specific keystrokes to the right places, the operator found her issue almost straight away: her troublesome son. He quickly scanned Danny’s school record and saw his previous fighting notes as well as the latest and most disturbing one – possession of cannabis. The operator’s first thought was a question: was the cannabis really his? With a history of fighting, was Danny being bullied or had it been planted? He checked the files of the other boys who had been caught fighting with him over the last year and wasn’t surprised to find a pattern occurring. Several of them had police records for possession. Those same boys had been active in bullying other students too, students who, on further digging, had since moved away from the school.

  He dug a little further into the bullies themselves. Their surnames all rang bells in his head, and he hoped they weren’t current clients of his. There was only one way to find out. He tapped his keyboard briskly and, with the information in front of him, relaxed a little. While they weren’t clients, he knew who they ‘belonged’ to. He thought for a moment. This particular problem needed fixing, but it could prove a little more difficult to solve. These people had friends in high places.

  He sat back in his chair to think of the best way to handle it. His first plan of attack was invariably the one he went with, but he didn’t want to rush this one and risk getting it wrong. The face of the woman on his first screen looked back at him. She really was a beautiful woman, but the strain on her face was evident. It needed removing. He picked up his phone and dialled.

  “I need three boys taken out of their posh school for good. And it needs to stick. Can you look after it?”

  The voice asked for their names and the school. If the voice was cautious after knowing who their fathers were, he didn’t let on.

  “I thought you’d find a way. Keep me informed. And it needs doing before the weekend.”

  The voice confirmed it would be and hung up.

  While this particular task would undoubtedly be expensive, it was for a client who had been with him for many years. The operator considered it an investment.

  He recalled the three players who were milling around the woman he now knew as Ellen Millar. Their work had been done, and he sent them each a badge of completion as a job well done. The digital leaderboard behind him glowed with their updated tallies. With players back to their regular activities and his current project also being taken care of, he pushed his chair back and headed out of the office for some fresh air.

  The stone steps and tiled wall of the stairwell to the street were cool, and the lunchtime sun streamed in through the doorway at the bottom. As he stepped out on to the footpath, diesel fumes hit him full in the face as a double-decker bus chugged past, black poison spewing from its exhaust pipe. Grimacing as he walked and holding his breath until it had passed fully, he slipped to the right and cut through an alleyway heading east towards the sandwich shop and lunch.

  Sorting other people’s lives out always made him happy, though hungry.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  The afternoon sun shone down on Jack and Amanda as they pulled up outside Hadley Spinks’ workshop. The red brick building looked, from the outside, like many of the factories that once had been occupied across the south, many of which were now trendy apartments or ‘Google office space’–type start-up businesses that someone’s daddy was funding, probably in tech. Old dimple-frosted glass filled the small window pane sections that made up giant windows with domed tops. Amanda pointed to one as they walked towards the entrance.

  “They remind me of Play School – remember that? Always a choice of looking through the square, the round or the arched window. I always picked the arched. How about you?”

  Jack turned to Amanda and looked at her like she’d gone mad. “Can’t say I watched it when I was little. Was it still around when you were little, then?”

  “Yes. Not for long, though. It died sometime in the late eighties. You’re the one with the trivia facts, Jack. I’d have thought you’d have known that one.”

  They had reached the huge metal door and Amanda pressed the bell. A spyhole was visible at eye level just near the old letterbox slot. Amanda smiled at it like she was Garfield, just for fun. If anyone was indeed watching, they too would have thought she’d gone mad.

  “Music trivia is more my thing, and detective stuff – old cases from long ago. Sherlock Holmes, Sweeney Todd. I like the crime shows on the TV too – the real crime ones, not that made-up cop crap.”

  Male footsteps picked up pace on the other side of the door and the door opened inwards. A well-dressed man wearing a pale lilac shirt and a long ponytail greeted them both pleasantly. Amanda took the lead.

  Hello. Mr. Spinks, is it?” The man smiled in answer. “I’m Detective Sergeant Amanda Lacey and this is Detective Constable Jack Rutherford.”

  “I’ve been expecting you. Please do come in.” Hadley allowed them both to enter then closed the door quietly behind them. “Please, go through,” he encouraged them, pointing the way down the corridor, and fell in behind them both. A few steps down and the corridor opened into a brightly lit wide-open space that appeared to encompass several aspects of the business. Natural light filled the room from an almost all-glass roof, and Amanda marvelled at the sky above. Cabinets along the wall housed shoes, clearly designed and created over many years. Sewing machines took up one corner, and desks and chairs another. To their right was a sort of mock-up living room area, complete with velvet-covered chairs, an eighties-style standard lamp and a modern glass coffee table. To Amanda, it looked a bit of a style mish-mash but a comfortable seating area nonetheless.

  “Wow, what a great space to work in,” she enthused.

  An older woman joined them and enquired if they’d each like some tea.

  “Thank you – yes, please,” Amanda said. Jack shook his head ‘no thanks’ and the woman left. Hadley invited them both to sit.

  “Now, what can I do for you both? It was such a long time ago, I doubt I can be of much help, but we’ll see, eh?” He smiled his enigmatic smile at Amanda, and she found herself smiling back.

  Hadley had a way with people, mainly women, that instantly put them at ease – which was both his skill and his intention. Amanda noted his silver shirt garters, one on each sleeve. They looked antique and quite lovely. Hadley noticed her glancing at them.

  “They were my father’s, God rest his soul. And his father’s before him. They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “Yes. I remember my grandfather wearing them, though his were not quite as nice as those ones. Still, not many men wear them now, but they suit you.” She knew she was rambling a little off topic, but found herself drawn to the man, drawn to talk. Jack cleared his throat in a hint to get moving.

  “If you could take us through the events that led you to be cautioned? Start at the beginning and fill us both in.”

  It was Hadley’s turn to clear his throat before he launched into what had happened the afternoon he had been caught at the agency. When
he’d finished telling his story, he looked directly at Amanda intently, perhaps for support.

  She went with a question. “So how did you find the place? There’s really no signage outside, no note on the door. How did you know it was there?”

  “When one has a fetish like you now know I have, you are able to find out these things. And for the record, I’m not embarrassed any more, nor do I hide the fact that I find feet attractive.” He was so matter-of-fact about it that Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. Luckily Hadley didn’t notice.

  “I’m guessing there are others who appreciate the same things you do,” Amanda said. “Are there chat rooms, maybe? Do you take part in online forums?”

  “I agreed to chat about the day I was cautioned, not my personal life, Detective Sergeant Lacey. I said I’m not ashamed, but it’s really none of your business or relevant to my caution. I was there that day, I tried to speak to some of the girls, and I got reprimanded for it. That really is all I can tell you. I didn’t touch anyone and I didn’t act inappropriately either. But I realize I upset some of the girls and for that I have apologised. Now, if you don’t have any more questions about that particular event, I have work to do.” Hadley’s voice dropped an octave or two, signalling that this was the end of the discussion.

  Jack and Amanda both got up to leave just as the older woman came back with tea for Amanda. The woman’s face fell slightly as she realized they were leaving and the tea was no longer needed.

  “Just one last thing.” Jack stopped abruptly. He was doing his Columbo bit. He even had his first finger extended in thought.

  “Do you know a man by the name of Chris Meeks, or maybe Smeeks, by any chance?” He and Amanda both watched for the slightest tell to appear on Hadley Spinks’ face – a twitch of the lips, a hard swallow. The room fell into complete silence.

  The question did need an answer, though, and eventually Hadley obliged.

  “Chris Meeks. . . Smeeks.” He rolled the words around his tongue, considering. He looked quite genuine as he replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t recall the name. But I do talk to a lot of people. Is it important?”

  “Just a name that has come up, a routine question that will probably lead nowhere. If you do recall the name, give me a call, would you?” Jack said. He passed a card to Hadley, who nodded.

  “We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you for your time,” Jack said, and they both walked back down the corridor to the door at the end. When they were back out on the street and headed to the car, Amanda voiced what they both were thinking.

  “I’d say he doesn’t know of the name. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know of the person. Meeks just might use another name.”

  Jack slid into the driver’s seat and waited for Amanda to get in before responding. She pushed the junk mail newspapers and leaflets to one side with her foot. There must have been at least two weeks’ worth in the well.

  “I agree, the name didn’t light any beacons, but he didn’t want to talk about fetish groups or chat rooms either, did he?”

  “No, but neither would you if you had one, would you? And particularly if you were talking to the police about something that could be related, at least in subject matter. He’s not stupid, but it was worth a try.” Jack started the engine and pulled out into the street before adding, “It’s still a coincidence, though. And for what it’s worth, I’m thinking this Chris character is up to something online with fetishes, but I’ve no clue what. Just a hunch, but they don’t work in a court of law. We need a break, something positive that links all this together besides two women losing their hair, a bloke from way back and a sexual harassment case going away. I can see the DI pulling us off this case and nothing more happening with it. In the meantime, behind our backs, hair is going missing.”

  Amanda couldn’t help but grin.

  “What?”

  “It just sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud. ‘Hair going missing.’ How the hell does hair go missing? It wanders off like a cat?”

  Jack laughed gently, and then a stab of pain hit him hard in his right side again and he winced as he grabbed at his belly with his hand. There was no way to hide this one.

  “Jack? You’re in pain, aren’t you?” Amanda’s voice was sharp with concern. “And that isn’t still beef pickle sandwiches, not now.”

  Even though Jack didn’t want to admit it out loud, he’d come to the same conclusion earlier that morning. The pain had stabbed him at regular intervals all through the night and all of today, and it was getting stronger and stronger as the day wore on.

  Amanda asked him, “Has that been going on since yesterday, and getting stronger all this time, by any chance?”

  “Who are you now, Florence Nightingale?” His lame attempt at humour fell on deaf ears. Then he relented and filled her in. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I’ll have to get to the doctors, I know that.”

  “Give me your phone and I’ll call them now, see if someone can see you this evening.”

  He turned to her, confusion on his face.

  “I’m guessing the number is in your phone? Or you can tell me who you go to and I’ll use my own.” She watched as he pulled the phone from his jacket pocket and handed it over. Sifting through his contacts, she found what she was looking for and made the call. A couple of minutes later, the appointment was set for 5.30 pm.

  “You perhaps shouldn’t be driving, Jack. Why don’t you pull over and I’ll drive us back?” She glanced across and noticed Jack’s face. It was going an odd colour, like pale processed cheese. Alarmed, Amanda instinctively grabbed hold of the steering wheel just as Jack vomited violently across at the windscreen. Acting quickly, she leaned across him, ignoring the mess, and hauled on his leg, removing his foot from the accelerator. She grabbed the wheel with her free hand and guided the car to the side of the road. Car horns blared as they finally came to a halt in a no-stopping zone.

  “Holy fuck, Jack! Are you alright? Speak to me, Jack, speak to me!” She shifted her weight off him and took his face in her hands. A sort of whimper came from his mouth, like a wounded dog.

  “I’m calling for help,” she said, grabbing her phone from where it had landed in the mess on the floor. “Stay with me, Jack, stay with me,” she urged him. She punched in the emergency number and told the operator an officer was down and needed urgent medical attention. She gave their location, hung up and turned back to try and help Jack.

  “Hold on, Jack. Help is on its way. Stay with me, Jack.” She put the emergency flashers on, then loosened Jack’s tie with one hand and undid his seatbelt, holding his hand firmly in her other hand. She found tissues in her bag and wiped his mouth a little to make him more comfortable, and then placed her fingers on his neck, pressing gently into his carotid artery. His pulse was steady but quick and weak. The air was putrid, and she reached across him and opened the driver’s side door to get some fresh air to him. Slowly, a bit of colour came back into his cheeks again, though his forehead was hot and sweaty and he was barely coherent.

  What the hell had just happened? Amanda wondered. Her beloved friend and colleague looked seriously ill. Amanda hoped he was going to make it.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Amanda watched from the curb as Jack was carefully wheeled into the ambulance, still looking very ill but better than he had a few minutes ago. A little colour had come back into his face, and the ambulance team had given him some pain relief. He wasn’t talking, though, and Jack always talked. They suspected appendicitis, given the symptoms Amanda had described.

  The inside of the car looked like half a dozen carsick children had consumed far too much ice cream, and the smell was already building up in the late afternoon sunshine. Amanda still had specks all over her trousers and dared not pick at it. Dried puke was not something she wanted on her hands or down her fingernails. She smiled encouragingly at Jack as his stretcher was secured, then climbed in alongside him. There was no way she could drive to the hospital in Jack’s car as it was; she had alre
ady made the call for it to be towed to a valet to get cleaned up. It had needed a good clean anyway; today it would think it was its birthday.

  Since Jack’s wife had died some years back, there wasn’t anyone back at home to notify of his illness, but she dropped Ruth a text to explain what had happened. Jack thought of them both as the daughters he’d never had.

  “Need me to grab anything?” her text back read.

  “I’ll go round later. I have his keys. He’ll need toiletries.”

  “Give him my love and wish him a speedy recovery. I’ll see him later.”

  “Will do. I’ll get a lift back. I’m splattered in puke.”

  “Gross, Ms. Lacey. Love you, though.”

  Amanda smiled at the last message back. She’d found her soulmate in Ruth, and she couldn’t wait until they were married.

  “All ready to go in the back here?” enquired one of the paramedics. His colleague was already in the driver’s seat, engaging the flashing lights. Amanda nodded and took Jack’s hand in hers as the rear doors were finally closed, the driver sounded the sirens and they set off across town towards the emergency unit and a hospital bed. Appendicitis could be deadly if the appendix burst, and time was of the essence. Amanda rocked from side to side in her seat, never taking her eyes off Jack, as the ambulance took left and right turns at speed. Jack seemed more comfortable now that he’d been given painkillers, but he still looked terrible. Wisps of his thinning ‘salt and not much pepper’ hair stuck to his clammy forehead, and Amanda was tempted to gently push them away.

  He turned towards her and tried to speak from under his oxygen mask.

  “Sor… f…. messss.”

  “I think I got that, Jack,” she said, smiling at him, still clutching his hand. “Don’t try and talk. Save your energy. Your car needed cleaning anyway. How many junk circulars were you trying to collect in there?” She was teasing him, and she smiled to let him know it. Humour was one way to dispel the fear they were both feeling right now.