An Old Score

by Edie Baylis

  Table of Contents

  An Old Score (Retribution, #1)

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Forty

  Forty One

  Forty Two

  Forty Three

  Forty Four

  Forty Five

  Forty Six

  Forty Seven

  Forty Eight

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  More From This Author

  More From This Author

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  Join Edie's Mailing List

  AN OLD SCORE

  THREE FAMILIES... ONE PRIZE...

  Teagan Fraser had no idea what she was getting herself into when she took on an assignment as a live-in carer for Dulcie Adams – a retired dancer from a Soho club. Dulcie has waited forty years for her lover, Michael Pointer, to return, but she’s been living in hope for a time that never came and left looking after something important, which Jonah Powell and his firm want back.

  In addition to the notorious Powell firm, there are others wanting to claim what they believe is rightfully theirs and they’ll do anything to get it back. If only Dulcie wasn’t around it would be a lot easier, but she’s difficult to shift...

  A lot can happen in the space of two weeks and Teagan might wish she’d never become involved.

  Fans of Martina Cole, Kimberley Chambers and Jessie Keane will love An Old Score.

  Also by Edie Baylis

  Until the End of Time (Downfall Series #1)

  Escaping the Past (Downfall Series #2)

  Vengeful Payback (Downfall Series #3)

  The Downfall Series Box Set

  The Status Debt (Hunted Series #1)

  The Family Legacy (Hunted Series #2)

  The Target of Lies (Hunted Series #3)

  AN OLD SCORE

  RETRIBUTION SERIES #1

  EDIE BAYLIS

  First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Athame Press.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

  Copyright © Edie Baylis 2020

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Front cover design Copyright © Athame Press/Edie Baylis 2020

  Front cover photography: Judeus Samson/Unsplash, Luise and Nic/Unsplash

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to any real person, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  e-ISBN 978-1-9161627-4-7

  Athame Press

  Unit 13230 - PO Box 6945 – London – W1A 6US

  For my son

  My superstar, best mate and right-hand man

  I love you more than pins

  xx

  Prologue

  1965

  DULCIE HEFTED HERSELF UP onto the pillows and sighed contentedly. Her painted eyebrows formed a frown as Michael moved to the edge of the bed, reaching for his clothes hanging over the back of the dressing table chair. ‘You’re leaving already?’

  Standing up, Michael pulled on his trousers and smiled. ‘You know I have to, but it won’t be for much longer.’ Leaning down, he pressed his lips on Dulcie’s.

  ‘But Michael,’ Dulcie said breathlessly, already ready for a second helping of the man she found irresistible. ‘How long before... before...’

  ‘Before we can do this for real, you mean?’ Michael said, placing one of his large hands gently on Dulcie’s belly. ‘Like I said, not long.’

  Dulcie’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve been saying that for ages.’ She winced, feeling a strong kick from within. ‘This child of yours won’t wait around much longer. I’ve already left my job and moved away, like you wanted, but all you’re bothered about is how it looks to everyone else? It wasn’t an issue putting this one in me whilst my husband’s body was still warm, was it?’ she snapped, knowing she was pushing her luck by speaking this way, but she loved Michael. Loved him desperately.

  Michael swallowed his rising irritation. ‘I’ll pretend you didn’t say that Dulcie,’ he said, his voice, although soft held a distinct note of warning. ‘Like you wanted, I ensured Peter was taken out of the way, didn’t I? But we have to leave a reasonable time before we move things forward.’

  Dulcie pouted. ‘I know you did and I’m grateful for that.’ Her husband’s unfortunate death outside The Feathers under the wheels of a car whose out of control driver hadn’t even bothered to stop had certainly freed her from her unwanted marriage, leaving the way clear for her to be with the man she truly loved, but months on and she was still on her own. And she didn’t like it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  She glanced around the large bedroom – the bedroom in this massive house Michael had moved her to; the place where she’d imagined waking up next to him every day, but instead, several months on, she was still rattling around alone in his absence. ‘I’m sick of being your bit on the side.’

  Michael reached for his crisp white shirt and shrugged it on. ‘The solicitor is wrapping things up with my divorce as we speak,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry. As promised, it’s all in hand. I just need to make sure everything’s done properly.’

  His name would be mud when it became known he was divorcing his wife. Everyone had a bit on the side, but it wasn’t the done thing to ditch the wife and mother of your children in favour of a mistress – especially in Jacky Powell’s eyes.

  Michael had worked for the Powell firm for years and Jacky, the head honcho, had a strong set of principles when it came to family. Michael knew full well he would lose a lot of kudos and respect when it got out that he was leaving his missus. A few of the other lads already knew, thanks to his mouth getting loose after too many drinks the other night, but Dulcie Adams would also shortly be the mother of a child of his too. The difference between her and Sophie, his wife, was that he loved Dulcie, so the only way forward was to make a decision.

  Seeing the worry etched across Dulcie’s face, Michael tenderly ran his finger down her cheek. ‘I swear it won’t be much longer,’ he murmured. ‘There’s just a couple of things to tie up and then I’m out of there for good and I’ll be joining you permanently.’

  Dulcie sat forward, panic rushing through her. ‘Out of where? What do you mean?’ She’d only come to this massive house at his insistence. It was supposed to be temporary, wasn’t it? Was he now saying they were staying here and leaving Soho? Leaving all the glitz and the glamour, his work and the m
oney?

  Michael faced Dulcie, his lopsided grin – the one that always melted her heart, present. It had been a difficult decision to make and one which was a hell of a risk, but he’d done well in covering his tracks. Even if the firm eventually put two and two together, by that time they’d have no idea where to find him and in the end the trail would go cold. Buying this house was step one of the plan.

  ‘I’m leaving the firm, Dulcie. And Soho. I’m going to be here with you.’

  ‘Y-You’re leaving the firm? But why? What about the money?’ Dulcie spluttered. ‘What will we live on?’

  ‘They’d never accept me divorcing Sophie, so this house... I bought it and it’s in your name.’

  ‘My name?’ Dulcie cried. ‘I thought you’d rented it! I...’

  ‘Yep, it’s yours.’ Michael grinned. He waved his arm around the large bedroom with its lavish, but garish pink wallpaper. ‘I swung it so it looked like it came from Peter’s death duty. As far as the insurance was concerned, his death was a dreadful accident, you know that. The most important thing is that you’ve got somewhere bloody decent to live ready for this one.’ He stroked her belly. ‘And of course, your other kid.’

  Dulcie glanced in the direction of the room where Helen was sleeping before her eyes returned to Michael. She grasped his arm. ‘I just want us to be together. All of us...’

  Michael’s thumb rubbed against Dulcie’s bottom lip, watching with satisfaction as her eyes closed in anticipation of his lips on hers. ‘Like I said, once I’ve tied things up in Soho, I’ll be joining you.’ He placed his hands back on Dulcie’s swollen belly. ‘And I want to meet my son.’

  ‘Or daughter!’ Dulcie corrected, softening. ‘But what...’

  ‘Don’t worry about money. I’ve sorted our future – just like I said I would, but it does mean I’ll have to lie low for a while.’

  Dulcie’s eyes opened wide in anticipation. ‘How? What with? Wh...’

  ‘I need you to hold onto something for me.’ Pushing himself off the bed, Michael reached for his suit jacket. Slipping it on, he delved into one of the inside pockets and retrieved a small cloth bag.

  Dulcie sat forward, her eyes squinting at what was in Michael’s hand. ‘What is it?’

  Michael smiled. ‘Just a little insurance for me... For us...’ He grinned widely as he pulled the cord securing the top of the bag, spreading the cloth on the bed and enjoyed hearing the audible gasp coming from Dulcie’s mouth.

  Scrambling out of bed as quickly as she could, Dulcie pulled a frilly chiffon wrap around her naked body and peered closer at what Michael had placed on the bedspread. ‘Oh my God! Are those real?’

  Michael fingered the handful of large jewels. ‘They are indeed. Let’s just say payment for a job well done.’

  Dulcie clutched onto Michael. ‘Dear God, these must be worth a fortune! Michael, I...’

  ‘Thousands Dulcie, thousands,’ Michael grinned. ‘And I want you to keep them safe.’ Gently gripping her shoulders, he turned her towards him, his face serious. ‘Put them somewhere - somewhere no one will find them and where they’ll be safer than houses. Guard them like the crown jewels, ok?’

  Dulcie looked both wary and panicked. ‘You took them? Christ, you took these from the Powells? From the last job you did? Oh my God, Michael! Are you crazy? They’ll kill you!’

  Michael laughed. ‘No, they won’t. They won’t be able to find me. Besides, they owed me, so they’re mine. Well, ours. There’s a few more than this, but I gave them to Sean to keep his gob shut. We’ve got the majority, so keep them safe until I’m back. I’m trusting you on this, ok?’

  Dulcie clutched onto Michael once more. ‘You know you can trust me, I...’

  ‘That’s why I’m leaving them with you.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘And...’ He fished a fat envelope out of his other pocket and placed it in her hand. ‘Take this too.’

  Dulcie nervously peered inside the envelope, her mouth hanging open in shock at the thick wad of notes. ‘Jesus, Michael! There must be hundreds in here?’

  ‘Twenty thousand, actually,’ Michael corrected. ‘I told you we’d be ok for money.’

  ‘But what if the Powells catch up with us?’ Dulcie exclaimed, dread mounting once again. ‘You sa...’

  ‘Dulcie,’ Michael soothed. ‘We’ll be just fine. It’s unlikely they’ll ever discover that heist contained more than what I said it did. I was the one overseeing it, remember? Besides, they trust me, so I’ll be the last person they’ll suspect.’ He grinned. ‘And as for the money, they’ve got so much stashed in those safes of theirs they won’t even notice twenty grand missing.’

  Dulcie still felt less than convinced. ‘But won’t they immediately suspect you of something if you disappear?’

  Michael shook his head. ‘I’m not just disappearing, I’m resigning. I’ll eat shit and tell Jacky I’m leaving because I know he doesn’t approve of divorce. I’ll also add in that I won’t rub Sophie’s face in it by staying around – make out I’m doing it for his and my ex-wife’s sake.’

  Michael tilted up Dulcie’s chin and looked into her eyes. ‘Listen, everything will be fine. Although it will be some time before we can risk shifting those jewels, the twenty grand is more than enough in the meantime.’

  ‘What’s Sean doing? Is he leaving the firm too?’ Dulcie asked. ‘Won’t that look even more suspicious? Won’t they realise?’

  ‘Sean isn’t going anywhere; we’ve already talked about that. He’s got no reason to. The only reason I’m leaving is because I don’t want grief about being with you, not because of those.’ He nodded towards the diamonds spread on the bed. ‘Sean remaining in the firm will also be useful because he’ll keep his ears open and warn me pronto on the miniscule chance of anyone ever getting suspicious. But they won’t, ok?’

  Dulcie felt tears burn the backs of her eyes as Michael got to his feet. ‘Just be patient. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ He pressed his lips to hers then turned on his heels and left before she could say any more.

  Dulcie shakily sat back on the edge of the bed and stared at the small cloth containing the jewels. Her pretty face slowly morphed into a wide smile. So, he’d done it? Michael was leaving his wife and setting them up with everything they needed for a fresh start.

  She’d miss her life at the club, but that was nothing in comparison to not being with Michael. He was all she’d wanted for so long and now her dreams had finally come true.

  Dulcie wrapped her arms around herself with happiness and as the downstairs door slammed signifying Michael’s departure, she hadn’t the faintest idea that she’d never see the man she loved so much ever again.

  One

  2005

  JONAH POWELL YELPED as the burning drops of coffee scorched his skin where he’d let the angle of his cup tilt too far. ‘Fuck’s sake!’ he roared, hastily mopping at the liquid soaking through the front of his once pristine white shirt. ‘NERO? Get in here NOW!?’

  Jonah scowled. He couldn’t believe this. He just couldn’t fucking believe it. After all this time? All this time he’d listened to how this had slipped through the firm’s fingers. He’d been brought up with tales of what would happen when the truth finally came out. But the truth had never come out. Not in his father’s lifetime anyway.

  Until now.

  Jonah’s eyes flicked around his wood-panelled office situated near the rear of The Feathers Club. A plethora of framed accolades and certificates adorned the walls, signifying the almost 100-year popularity of the place – many of which stemmed from after his father took ownership.

  His father had loved this club – loved everything about it. Aside from it being a legitimate front for several of the other interests the Powell firm had, there had always been a deep-seated love for The Feathers; it’s staff, the show and the whole atmosphere. But Jacky’s happiness and unrivalled loyalty to everyone – both involved in the firm and the club itself had been blown out of the water by what had happened in 196
5.

  Jacky Powell went to his grave thirty years later still seething about being wronged – by not one, but two of his trusted men and on top of that, witnessing his eldest son being sent down because of the connected fallout.

  Because of this, Jonah had made the promise to his father that he’d find a way to get even. That was ten years ago. Ten years since his father had passed and now – here it was. Right in bloody front of him.

  Anger like a thick miasma seeped from every single pore and only the grating noise of the heavy door to his office opening stopped him from spontaneously combusting.

  Jonah glared at Nero Banks, his most trusted right hand man, standing in the doorway. ‘I thought I told you to get that fucking sticking door fixed!’

  Nero eyed Jonah warily. He didn’t know what had happened but one thing was for sure and that was his boss was not in a good mood and he’d bet the reason he’d been called in wasn’t to discuss the state of the door.

  ‘Look at this!’ Jonah snapped, jerking his head towards his computer screen.

  Nero stood to the side of Jonah, the rage emanating from the man making his skin bristle. He looked at the screen and frowned. Ok, so it was a news website – the video section. Bending forwards slightly, he peered at the computer. What the hell was this and why was Jonah watching it?

  ‘Well?’ Jonah barked, waiting for a response. ‘What does that tell you?’

  Nero blinked. ‘It tells me you’re watching an old bat doing the goose step.’

  Jonah slammed his fist down on his desk and spun around in his chair, his face forming into a ferocious snarl. ‘It’s not just any old bat. Look closer and listen.’ He pressed ‘play again’ on the video clip.