Detective Amanda Lacey Box Set

by Linda Coles

  But thoughts like these were not going to help. All she could do was limit the evidence, set the emotional groundwork and spread a few crumbs of her own to keep suspicion away from her door.

  Still the message went unanswered. Was that a sign in itself, that she didn’t really want him dead? Wouldn’t she have clicked it by now if she felt sure? What the hell was she supposed to do? Pressure was building, her nerves rattling in their sheaths, and she gulped down a deep breath like a hiccup. Anxiety tightened in her chest; her breath came in shallow gulps as she fought to calm herself and breathe normally again. She felt beads of sweat on her forehead and wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  A tablet or two would fix it.

  Collecting her bag from the banister end where it was hanging, she slipped her hand into the side pocket and felt for the pills she knew would be waiting in there. She clutched two and slid them out. Would two be enough? Sighing, she reached in for two more. Staring at them, stark white and smooth against the palm of her fleshy hand, she hated them. Hated them for what they stood for, hated having to take them, hated that, without them, she would be crushed by the feelings that hurt her so much. Sighing again, she swallowed the lot of them down and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water to speed things along.

  The sun was not far above the horizon in the distance, the promise of a brighter day to come, and she remembered the girls still upstairs, tucked up snug in their own beds. It was time to get them ready for school. Perhaps she’d walk with them this morning. The fresh air and sunshine would do them all good.

  The girls. The pills. The two most prominent things in her life at that moment. One a blessing, the other a curse. She climbed the stairs to wake her daughters.

  She went into Victoria’s room first, planted a kiss on her cheek.

  “Time to get up, darling,” she cooed as Victoria opened her eyes. “It’s a lovely day. I thought I’d walk you both to school this morning. We could stop at the shop and get you a little butterfly cake each if you’d like?”

  Victoria smiled sleepily and nodded her approval before pushing the covers back and slowly climbing out. Sam watched as her eldest daughter made her way sleepily to the bathroom, then went into Jasmine’s room. Her heart swelled as Jasmine followed her big sister into the bathroom and the girls began their morning chatter. They were the most precious things in her world.

  Bar nothing else.

  She went back downstairs to make breakfast and wait for the girls to appear. As she put the kettle on, she made her final decision.

  She opened her laptop and clicked reply.

  She attached a recent picture of Duncan, along with the address of where he’d be staying that night. She typed:

  Money OK, picture and address included. What next? Send.

  The deed was done. The ball was rolling. The status quo was about to change.

  What happened from here on in was out of her hands.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  After she dropped the girls off at school, she went into a café and logged into her laptop again. As she’d suspected, there was a message waiting for her. If the other café customers knew what she was up to, sat in the corner organizing what she was organizing, would anyone try and stop her? Would she herself stop Anika if she was planning on doing the same thing to her partner?

  But Anika wasn’t married to Duncan, and Anika wasn’t a disappointment to her partner, unlike Sam was. If Duncan was flippant enough to tell her he was out of there if she didn’t change, then he could have what was coming to him.

  The message was simple and included two links.

  Time and place noted. Please transfer funds by following instructions in link. Message when half has been transferred.

  Sam clicked the first link and was a little surprised it wasn’t a regular banking transaction. But then she thought about for a moment and almost laughed aloud at herself. Who in their right mind would order a hit and transfer funds through a regular banking entity along with their account name? While that would have been simple, as would putting hard cash in a carrier bag and dropping it into a nearby rubbish bin, it was neither secure nor practical.

  She scanned the link he’d sent her – she’d assumed he was a ‘he’ – and read the basic instructions on opening a crypto currency account. It looked straightforward enough on the surface. Well, there was no time like the present. She needed to get this underway now, and opening an account and transferring the first instalment correctly was step one in getting the job completed.

  A few minutes later, she looked up from her screen with satisfaction. The first part was almost complete. She clicked the second link – how to buy currency and then transfer it to pay for the deal. Again, it was straightforward enough and it wasn’t long before she was ready to hit send. With everything lined up ready, this was the final part in sending the boulder careering towards Duncan. And it could never be undone. Looking away from her screen for a moment, Sam gazed out of the café window at the people outside going about their own business. What was going on in their lives right now, today? she wondered. Did they ever feel like obliterating someone from their lives? A boss, maybe? An abusive partner, a boring partner, or a parent, even? Perhaps a child that was causing distress or annoyance? Was anybody safe from the ideals of someone they knew?

  She looked at each person in turn as they moved past the window and tried to image what the imaginary thought bubbles coming out of them would say. Who would be making a shopping list, working on a presentation, figuring out an apology, or contemplating suicide? Everyone had their own set of problems that varied in importance, and what was important to one wouldn’t necessarily be important to another. Like when people moaned about having a bad day – one person’s version of a bad day would be totally different to the next person’s; a surgeon losing a patient topped finding out that your child has crayoned the hall wall. But whatever went on in a person’s own particular world, well, that was the most important thing, Sam knew, no matter how trivial it might seem to others. What would someone read from her thought bubble? she wondered. An involuntary shiver brought her back to the present, and the blinking transfer button. There was no point in delaying it any longer.

  She hit the button.

  A confirmation popped up to tell her the funds were now on their way, and Sam gulped nervously.

  Tomorrow night, her girls would no longer have a father.

  But she’d be single, in control of the girls’ future and comfortably well off for the rest of her life. It was a small price to pay for such luxury, and reconciling it in her head that way, she instantly felt better. The Cornish coast could be a great new place to settle her little family into a new routine and a new life.

  She drained the last of her coffee, closed her laptop and headed out. There were still a couple of things to take care of before tomorrow night, but the main part was complete. Well, at least the first half of the money had gone. Idly, Sam wondered if she’d ever use her crypto wallet again when this was all over.

  I’m not planning on buying more pills.

  Back outside in the bright, cool, sunny morning, all felt well in the world. A smile crept slowly across her face, and she realized that for the first time in a long while she felt good about things, about the future, albeit without the man she’d once promised to love and obey, in sickness and in health. What a load of old cobblers that had turned out to be. As she passed a fashion chain store, she heard Fleetwood Mac over the sound system, suggesting folks go their own way. Her smile grew wider until, by the time she’d sung along to a few lyrics, she was laughing out loud as she walked. Oh, the irony. Going her own way was exactly what she intended to do, and from the day after tomorrow, when everything had been completed and she was expertly playing the grieving widow, she’d be most certainly going her own way.

  Next stop: the garden centre and the greenest seed potatoes she could find.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Easy enough so far. The equivalent o
f £6000 was in his crypto account now, with another six to come in the next 24 hours. So far so good. There was enough to pay for a firearm with and time enough to finalize the loose ends of his plan, making a tidy profit in the process. It was turning out to be a good idea.

  His first hit was tomorrow night and he planned to drive down and back again in one go. He’d leave the car in a side street nearby, walk to the victim’s hotel, whip in, do the job, and then head home. He and Clinton would share the driving; it would be early morning when they made their way back and he didn’t want to risk falling asleep at the wheel.

  He’d yet to tell Clinton about his precise role in all this, but since Luke had been the initiator of the project, it was only fair on Clinton that Luke himself would do the actual deed.

  The thought terrified him.

  He took out the scrap of paper that Caramel Teeth Man in the pub had given him. There was a mobile number on it. No names; just a number to contact and organize a drop-off, cash of course. Luke found this funny somehow. Perhaps he should educate the man on the finer points of using a crypto currency. It really was quick and simple, and less risky than a rubbish bin deposit in a park somewhere. And besides, being tied to one location limited one’s business opportunities. Take it online, however, and the world was your oyster – though he doubted Caramel Teeth Man had ever tasted one. He dialled the number and waited for Caramel Teeth Man to answer.

  “Yeah?”

  “I need a piece as discussed.”

  Luke heard a gurgling sound as Caramel Teeth Man took a long pull from a can, then a hearty belch.

  “When do you need it?”

  “Today.”

  “That’s tight.”

  “That’s tough.”

  Watch it, Luke.

  Silence while the man thought. Then he said, “Tonight. Back door of the Pole. Still a Colt?”

  While Luke didn’t like the sound of the back-door situation, he couldn’t be choosy at this late hour. “Yes, and a silencer. And ammo.”

  “Right. Don’t want much on short notice, do you.” More of a statement. “It’ll cost you a bag, in twenties. And no one comes with you.”

  “A bag?”

  “Yes, a fuckin’ bag. A bag o’ sand. A grand! You thick or somethin’?”

  Luke winced at his mistake. Cockney rhyming slang and dodgy blokes weren’t particularly his forte, though he was learning fast.

  “That’s more than I was expecting.”

  “Well, take it or leave it. I’m a busy man.” Another glug filled his ears and Luke imagined the ‘busy man’ lying on a tatty sofa in a scruffy high-rise flat on the other side on Manchester, empty beer cans buckled and scattered around the floor. Luke had no choice and Caramel Teeth Man knew it.

  “I’ll take it, then. What time?”

  “Make it ten. Like I say, I’m a busy man. And don’t ring again ’cos I won’t answer.”

  “I’ll be there.” Before he could say anything else, the line went dead and Luke was left staring at the screen of his burner phone. To himself, “Ten it is, then.”

  That gave him all day to do not much else but sit and worry that there’d be no trouble later on and he’d be home and safely in his bed by midnight, free of cuts and bruises. It wasn’t ideal to be so late, but with limited options, that was what it was. Still, he wouldn’t need to go through this again – or would he? He groaned as the realization hit him: of course he probably would. He’d not likely store a stolen gun that had been used in at least one murder, would he? A professional hit man would use their own weapons yes, but they’d be brand new, well looked after and safely stored someplace secret. Luke, on the other hand, was a wannabe entrepreneur trying to get a business off the ground and raising funds via a side hustle. Still, it would work.

  He hoped.

  Figuring he’d better fill Clinton in on where he was at so far, he dialled his number from his regular phone.

  “Fancy a coffee? I’ve things to tell you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Tell you when I see you.” Luke glanced out the window to check the weather. It wasn’t raining. “Meet you in the park by the swings. I’ll bring coffee. Will an hour suit you?”

  “Sounds secret squirrel, but yes, see you there in an hour.”

  Now all Luke had to do was hope Clinton saw sense and didn’t go flying off his rocker. Last time he’d broached the subject, he’d started to come round to the idea and Luke hoped he hadn’t changed his mind. It wasn’t as though he had to do anything, really: Clinton was to be more of a back-up guy just in case, a bit of moral support and someone to find any holes in the plan that Luke hadn’t foreseen. Clinton would be his wingman and share the driving. Easy.

  Nearly an hour later, Luke was on his way to their rendezvous, two takeaway coffee cups in his hand. Heading for the swings, he could see Clinton up ahead of him not far from their chosen spot and he watched him settle into the seat to wait. Two young boys squealed with glee as a woman pushed them both on the swings. Happy days.

  “Here you go,” he said handing over a cup and settling himself into an adjoining swing. They both watched the youngsters for a moment before Clinton spoke.

  “So what’s up?” Clinton took the top off his cup and sipped.

  “I wanted to tell you where I am up to, where we are up to.”

  “Ah, I see. I should have known it was about that. Go on, then. Enlighten me.”

  There was exasperation in Clinton’s voice, but Luke tried to ignore it. Luke himself was the one driving this and Clinton needed to buckle in. He told him everything – and Clinton listened. When he’d finished, the two men sat in silence, Luke willing Clinton to say something positive. Eventually he spoke.

  “Right, then. So it looks like we’re all set.” Matter-of-fact. “This better work or we’re both in the shit.”

  That was good enough for Luke.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  The pickup had gone without a hitch and Luke now had a Colt and silencer wrapped up in an old T-shirt safely inside his backpack as he walked. He’d borrowed his dad’s car, not wanting to risk the walk in such a rough neighbourhood again or risk travelling on public transport carrying his purchase back home. And of course, he might have needed a quick getaway if Mr. Caramel Teeth had decided he wanted to keep the cash and the gun.

  He trotted along the pavement at pace and hoped the car was still where he’d left it – and that it still had all four wheels attached. Turning the corner, he spotted it up ahead. All looked in order. It was lucky his dad didn’t own a Jag – it would have stood out like Pinocchio’s nose. An Alsatian barked angrily nearby and a woman’s voice screamed after it. She sounded harassed, and her skilful expletives would have been funny on any other night.

  But not tonight. Luke made his way to the car past boarded-up windows and curtainless dark glass; the only light came from the few remaining streetlamps that hadn’t been smashed.

  He kept checking behind him to be sure he wasn’t followed, but no one was interested, it seemed. He hoped Mr. Caramel Teeth was too busy counting his loot to bother with anything further. The man could buy more than a few cans of beer with what Luke had given him, enough to cover his sofa and the floor with empty cans.

  Luke picked up the pace and jogged over to the driver’s side of his car, unlocked it and slipped inside, then immediately locked the door. While he’d liked to have rested and caught his breath a while, he needed to get out of Dodge – and right now. The ignition caught, and the tyres struggled for grip as he accelerated rapidly out of the estate towards the main road and home. Next, he needed a quiet place to inspect his purchase, a purchase he was still unsure of how to use properly. While he’d hoped to get a client or two, he hadn’t expected to get one so soon, but he had, and he’d have to do the best job he could under the circumstances. Tomorrow was D-Day, which left him only a few hours to get some practice in. His plan on the day was to get in nice and close as the man lay asleep; if all went to plan, it would be a d
oddle. What could go wrong? A child could shoot a sleeping man at close range and not miss.

  He went back through his plan as he drove.

  “First, he’s at the hotel on Purley Way. Second, he’ll be asleep because we’re going in after midnight. Third, I can get right up close, and fourth, no one else will hear a thing – I’ve got a silencer. Fifth, exit out the window then back to the car and home. That’s it, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve left anything out.”

  Satisfied he had thought of everything – because after all, he’d been thinking of not much else since this started – he slowed to a more reasonable speed and relaxed his shoulders. Getting caught speeding could be tricky if they asked to look in the bag – after all he was dressed in his ‘thug’ gear.

  The bag. It seemed to glare at him from the passenger seat and Luke glanced at it from time to time on the journey back, hoping everything he needed was inside. And what if it wasn’t?

  Then he was in the shit.

  Luke slunk in through the back door and headed straight upstairs, avoiding the lounge where his parents were probably engrossed in a movie. His mother called out anyway.

  “That you, Luke?”

  “Yes, Mum, only me. Be down later.”

  When he was inside his room, he rammed a chair under the doorhandle to stop either parent from entering unannounced. He used the same trick when he was getting changed. A small bolt would have been just as effective, but neither he nor his parents had got around to doing it. The chair worked well for now. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he opened the bag and removed the T-shirt with the gun and its accessories wrapped in it. It was surprisingly heavy. The silencer rolled loose and thumped to the floor. A small box of about a dozen bullets finished the inventory.