“One more word, Taylor, and you’re on report.” Red angrily gathered her files from the desk. As she passed Terri, Red forced a smile. “For someone who officially only started thirty minutes ago, you’re doing bloody well so far.”
“Thanks, Guv.”
Red pulled the Perspex door to on the last word of Taylor’s farewell.
“Dyke.”
Chapter 28.
As the Judge disappeared through the door to his chambers the silence of Court Two was broken by the muted rumbling of conversations rekindled. Red glanced discreetly at her Blackberry, the background chatter fading in and out like someone messing with the volume knob.
All morning sat here for a three minute statement, while the Burns brothers are running around the Bec like Apache Indians.
Red steadied herself against the rising swell of anger building in her chest, memories of Pippa dissecting her case in that very court, just weeks before. How can I love someone who defends the very people I’m trying to put away?
A text popped up silently on screen. Hey, beautiful. How’s it going in Ct1? In Ct2 and I swear I can feel you through the walls.
Red smiled inwardly, almost hugging the phone to her chest, her unspoken question answered. She texted back, “Adjourned until two. Meeting Bill for coffee. Miss you. Love you too.”
Chapter 29.
“What a total waste of time.” Red spoke into her Americano in the Bankside Costa, Southwark.
“No-one said the system was perfect, Cass.” DCI Andrews absently stirred his cappuccino, his mind elsewhere.
“Yeah, well, it stinks.”
Andrews looked up from the coffee. “So does Barry Taylor. We all have our crosses to bear.”
A smile dissolved across Red’s face. “Tell me about it.”
Andrews finally surrendered his spoon to the saucer. “What’s he done this time?”
“He came on to Terri this morning.”
“Was she okay?”
Red beamed. “She put him right in his place. It was a picture.”
Andrews returned a warm smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting her. I’m hearing good things already, and it’s still her first day.”
“She’s certainly impressed me, Guv. Not only visited Mrs. Tasker over the weekend, off her own back, but got a statement from her and had the report typed up and on my desk first thing.”
“I know. I saw it.”
“You saw it?”
“I popped in to see you this morning. Thought I’d keep an eye on your office, in case any more mystery gifts turn up. So where were you? Traffic?”
“Deimante was late, so I was late. Pain in the butt, that girl.” Red sipped her Americano nosily. “Eager to please, that’s for sure.”
Andrews looked confused. “Deimante?”
“Terri Miller. Keep up. So what did you make of it? Her report, I mean. Is there enough there to bring them in?”
“You obviously don’t think so, or you wouldn’t be asking.”
Red nodded agreement. “Mrs. Tasker was heavily sedated when Terri spoke to her. Pippa would tear it to shreds in Court.”
“My thoughts exactly. You need to re-interview her once the doc’s given her the all-clear. And video it. I doubt a judge will allow it to be shown in Court but it will certainly strengthen our position with the CPS.” Andrews paused. “So, another case almost in the bag for Detective Chief Inspector Rose.”
Red glanced up from her Americano, narrowing her eyes. “Meaning?”
Andrews shrugged. “It’s your investigation, Cass. I’m just saying, it can’t hurt to chalk up another big case like this for when your review comes up. The Chief Super has asked me to keep him appraised. Obviously the media will want every detail when these louts go down. The perfect transition.”
“Is that what the brass think?”
“It’s what I think.”
Red sank back in her chair, her eyes still cold. “I know you’re only trying to help, Guv, but really, I want to do this on my own.”
Andrews let out a long sigh. “Here we go again.”
“I know how this thing works, Guv.” Red created an invisible headline in the air with a thumb and forefinger. “Met promotes first gay female cop to Chief Inspector.” She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “What are the chances they’ll leave out the word gay?”
Andrews instinctively reached across the table to cover her hand. “When you make DCI, Cass, it’ll be because you’ve earned it and you’re the only one for the job. It took me twelve years and almost cost me my marriage - twice! Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Who cares if they promote you to make their figures look good? Jeez, I’d happily have been a ruddy statistic.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“Can we just change the subject?”
Andrews sipped thoughtfully on his coffee. “Is it true about Anna and Jason?”
“Since when did the private affairs of my team interest you?”
“Since you asked to change the subject. Not that I’m enamoured by the idea of Anna being courted by a civilian, I must say. There are potential conflicts of interest there.”
“She knows what she’s doing. And Guv, we don’t say courted anymore. That is so last century.”
Andrews shrugged. “You see, yet another reason why I need to retire sooner, and you need to take my place.”
Red put up a restraining palm. “My turn to change the subject. Let’s talk about the Chief Super’s holiday home.”
The DCI put his coffee down, eyeing Red with suspicion. “What about it?”
“We all know he’s got one or two.”
“Your sudden interest in the Chief Super’s private life is about as implausible as my interest in Anna and Jason. Is there something I should know?”
“I’m just a bit miffed he thought it appropriate to borrow my latest team member for a private discussion about the American property market when she was supposed to be at my briefing.”
“When was this?”
“This morning.”
Andrews took a long sip of his drink. “After she’d clocked in?”
“After.”
“But you were late, by your own admission.”
“So?”
“So maybe he thought he was doing Terri a favour, rescuing her from a fate worse than death at the hands of Taylor and Harris.”
Red nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe he was abusing his position to pursue personal interests on police time.”
Andrews locked eyes with Red. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Inspector.”
Chapter 30.
As the dancing mask flickered into life on the screen the Huntsman purposefully studied his fingernails.
“More theatrics, Queenie?”
“Just take a seat,” the androgynous synthesized voice ordered.
The Huntsman sighed, obeying with increasing weariness. “I’ll be glad when your batteries are flat.” He sat heavily into the seat facing the mirror. “Happy now?”
The mask frowned. “As and when I’m happy, you’ll know about it. Now, my money?”
The Huntsman patted the case at his side. “As per my report, it’s five grand light. Famer came through with his twenty-five. Mickey was short.”
The mask darkened in colour, the lips tight. “Still short? I was hoping you might have sorted it for me by now.”
“It’s not my problem, Queenie. I’ve more important things to do than to go chasing your petty cash. Christ, it was only five goddamn grand.”
“I don’t care if it was five godamn pence. I will not tolerate theft.”
The Huntsman smiled at the irony. “I explained to Mickey in no uncertain terms that you weren’t happy.”
“I’d like to have a word with this Mickey myself, I think. Just to drive home the point.”
The Huntsman looked up at the screen, frustration etched on his normally dead-pan features. “You’re out of luck, Queenie. Unl
ess you have an account with the big man upstairs.” He extended an index finger up to the ceiling.
“And exactly how am I supposed to verify this?”
“Have you seen Mickey about since?”
“He could have done a runner.”
“What, for five K? Be serious. I dealt with him. End of.”
“No question he got what he deserved. If he’s dead.”
The Huntsman delved into his hold-all and pulled out the plastic bag containing the fragment of Mickey’s skull. He emptied it onto the polished desk. “Satisfied?”
The mask dissolved into a smile. “I see. Well, as you say, it’s just petty cash. However, the rest of it isn’t.”
An electronic chute shot out of the wall before the Huntsman, catching him unawares. He shot back in his chair. “For Christ’s sake, Queenie!”
The mask wobbled, obviously amused. “Just slip it in, there’s a good boy.”
The Huntsman sighed, dropping the case in, barely snatching back his hand as the drawer was sucked back into the shadow of the wall, leaving no sign that it had ever existed.
“I don’t like demeaning myself like this, Queenie. It’s not good for my reputation.”
“You get paid good money.”
“I am not your errand boy. You said this was a one-off. That was the third collection. There won’t be a fourth. ”
“You’re leaving me?”
“Give me a proper job and I’ll do it.”
“I’m still waiting for Andrews.”
“That’s in hand. I said I’d do it in my own time.”
“Just so long as it’s done. Now, you’ll be pleased to know my regular boys are back in harness.”
“About time.”
“So I have new errand for you.”
“I don’t need errands. I want a proper job or nothing.”
“Believe me, this is a proper job.”
“Another hit?”
“Nothing so mundane. I just want you to retrieve something I lost many years ago.”
“I just told you I –”
“Same fee as for a hit.”
The Huntsman sat back. “I’m listening.”
The image on the screen swirled into the centre and disappeared. The Huntsman shifted uncomfortably in his chair, eyes darting from one corner of the room to another like a puppet being operated from behind. To his right, a camera whirred. Snapping his head round to follow the noise, he caught site of a tiny red LED blinking rapidly.
“What the…”
He sat bolt upright as music boomed from invisible speakers. “I haven’t got time for these stupid games, Queenie.”
“Games? I don’t play games, my friend.” Two additional screens dropped down from the ceiling, like trapeze artists from a big top. The mask appeared simultaneously in both of them, spinning nauseatingly. On the centre screen, pixels slowly melted into view, blurred squares of red and silver gradually coming into focus, melding together to reveal a diamond-encrusted, apple-shaped jewel with a massive ruby for a heart.
“What is this? The home shopping channel?”
“This, my dear friend, is the real pay day. The legendary pomme-rouge.”
The Huntsman shrugged indifferently. “Looks like it might be worth a few bob.”
The synthetic laugh reverberated around the room. “A few bob? The ice alone is worth more than you could count in a month of Sundays. And with that provenance… This, my friend, is what the term priceless was created for.”
“And this affects me how, exactly?”
“It’s due to go on display at the Victoria & Albert next month. Part of the Louis XIV season. On loan from the Louvre, in Paris. I was rather looking forward to acquiring it.”
“What do you take me for? I ain’t no tea-leaf, Queenie.”
The synthetic laugh again. “Be serious. The security in place at the V&A for the pomme-rouge puts the guard on the crown jewels to shame. I’ve had insiders working on this for the past year and a half. Every little detail in place. I’ve recruited the crème de la crème to get me this little baby. Professionals to the core. On the last day of the display the pomme-rouge was to be mine. It’s not a job for amateurs.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed or insulted?”
“You are supposed to listen.”
“I’m all bloody ears. Now get to the point.”
“A rather unfortunate event occurred while the pomme-rouge was en route from Paris to London.”
A pause.
“And?” the Huntsman demanded.
“It was stolen.”
It was the Huntsman’s turn to laugh. “Someone beat you to it! That’s rich. So you want my sympathy, is that it?”
“No, I want the pomme-rouge. And I want the person who took it. I want you to find them, and the jewel, and bring them both here.”
“Here?”
“The next room. There will be a bath waiting for him.”
Chapter 31.
“So how was your day?” Red watched Pippa unloading her files onto the table. The weary mannerisms told their own story. “Lost a case, babe?”
Pippa forced an unconvincing smile. “It was an ambush. The CPS brought in last-minute new evidence.”
“And the Judge allowed it?”
“Her Honour Judge Adele Walters writes the rules as she goes along. As well you know.”
“Appeal?”
“No point. He was guilty as hell. He deserved far more than the three years he actually got.”
“So justice was done.”
Pippa glared. “Don’t be so naive, Cass. Justice is about who has the best legal team. On this occasion it wasn’t us.”
Red grinned. “Losing your touch, gal?”
“As if. I was fed duff intelligence. A workman is only as good as his tools.”
“Speaking of tools...” Red raised a mischievous eyebrow. “How about we have a repeat performance of the other night?”
“Cassandra, really!” Pippa gestured to her files. “Besides, I’ve got this lot to plough through if I’m to redeem my reputation tomorrow.”
“It’s not often we get the house to ourselves of an evening. There’s nearly two hours before Rubes gets dropped off.”
“It’s Ruby, Cass, not Rubes. How many more times?” Pippa’s eyes wavered between her lover and her files. “But I must admit, it is a fortuitous coincidence, having all three out at the same time.”
Red laughed. “And you call me naive!”
Pippa looked mystified. “Am I missing something?”
“It was only Ella originally. Then Jack. That was easy enough. But I had to pay Deimante to keep Rubes out till eight.”
“Cassandra!”
Red grinned. “Oh, and now Jack is sleeping-over, so he won’t be back until morning.”
“When did I authorize that?”
“You didn’t. I did.”
“I hope it’s not with that Darren child.”
Red studied her fingernails.
“Oh my God! He’ll come back with lice and...”
“Tick-tock, girlfriend.” Red glanced at her watch. “Deimante will text me when she’s at the end of the road so we can look respectable for when Rubes arrives.”
“It seems you’ve thought of everything.”
“Everything. I’ve even bought new batteries.”
Chapter 32.
“Deimante, are you sure you don’t need a lift? It’s no problem.” Red reached for her car keys as Pippa took collection of an excited Ruby.
“Thank you, but no need. A bus is due very soon.”
Red shrugged. “Your call.”
“I trust my little Ruby was on her best behaviour?” Pippa hugged her daughter tight. “Were you good for Deimante, honey?”
Ruby nodded.
“Of course she was. Always,” Deimante confirmed.
“Pip, that little girl is exhausted,” Red said. “Look at the poor thing. She can hardly keep her eyes open. Come on, Sleepy. Let Cassie tuck you
in, darling. Mummy’s got lots of work to do. Say good night to Deimante.”
~
Ruby slipped easily into her nightdress and beneath the covers. She reached over for her book.
“Rubes, be serious. You don’t want reading to this late, surely?”
Ruby nodded. “Snow White!”
Red repressed a sigh. Why do tired kids always wake up the moment they get into bed?
“Snow White? Again?”
“It’s the best story in the world.”
“But it’s late, darling.”
“Snow White! Snow White!”
“Wouldn’t you rather wait till tomorrow? That way Ella can read it to you. You know Ella reads it better than I do.”
Ruby beamed. “Yes, let Ella read!”
“She’s not in, babe.”
“Yes she is.”
“She’s not, darling. She’s watching a film with her friends.”
“She isn’t.”
“Honey, she went out with her friends. She won’t be back until...” Red followed Ruby’s beaming smile to the doorway. “Ella?”
“I came back early,” Ella explained with an enigmatic smile. “Just so’s I could read to little sis. Right, Tues?” Ella sauntered into the room, taking the book from Red. Ruby bounced up and down gleefully.
“Snow White! Ella reads bestest! Snow White!”
Red cast a resigned glance in Ruby’s direction. “Thanks, Rubes. I’ll remember that.”
Ella grinned triumphantly. “Best leave it to the expert, Cass.”
“I thought you were at the cinema?”
“The film was crap. Left half way through and got the bus home.”
“On your own?”
“Cass, I’m nearly twelve. Almost a teen-ager.”
“That’s not the point, Ella. It’s not safe on the streets. You know that. You should have phoned.”
“You and Mum were busy.”
“Not too busy to have come and collected you.”
“You looked pretty busy when I came in.”
“Busy?” Red felt her face colouring.
Ella shrugged. “Good job Deimante and Tues’ weren’t back then.”
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