Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set

by Saffina Desforges

  “How about Pete? Or Mr. Metcalf, if you want to keep it formal. What do you call Anna?”

  Taylor stared at Metcalf like he was crazy. “Anna, obviously. That’s her name.”

  “And I’m Pete.”

  Taylor looked mystified. “Duh. I know who you are. What’s that got to do with anything?””

  Anna folded her laptop. “Describe me, Barry. In lay terms, not Police Identity Code.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Go on. I won’t be offended.”

  Taylor shrugged. “Female, five foot five, shoulder length brown hair, hazel eyes, a tad overweight, too much make-up. Dressed like a –”

  “Yes, thank you, that will do,” Anna cut in. “I lied about not being offended, DC Taylor. Just remember I outrank you.”

  “You asked me.”

  “To make a point, Barry. Which you did very well, I might add. Now describe Pete.”

  Taylor shrugged again. “Whatever.” He looked Metcalf up and down. “Black, male, five eleven, with –”

  “Hold it right there, Barry. Now define the word racist for me.”

  “What? I ain’t no racist.”

  “Then why was the first word of your description of Pete that he is black?”

  “Well he is, ain’t he?”

  “I’m white,” Anna said. “But you didn’t mention my ethnicity once in your rather personal description.”

  “Yeah, well that’s because…” Taylor’s excuses ground to a halt at the first hurdle.

  “Institutionalized racism, isn’t that how they described it?” Anna turned to Metcalf and Roberts. “You were saying, Lee? About Preston?”

  “We scared the shit out of him basically,” Roberts said gleefully.” Made him think he was our one and only suspect and that if he couldn’t provide us with an alibi, then we were hauling him in.”

  “Charming,” said Anna.

  “He panicked, and fessed up to having an affair with another bloke,” Roberts continued.

  “Who happened to be with him whilst Walker was at work, and at the time Walker was killed,” Metcalf explained. “It all checks out.”

  “His alibi’s as tight as a duck’s ass,” Roberts said.

  “Now why does that remind me of you, Jez?” Anna said.

  “We did get some goodies too.” Metcalf threw an evidence bag across to Anna. “Preston fetched us these from Walker’s bedside cabinet. Apparently Walker was big on escorts. Male and female alike.”

  Anna poured the contents onto the table. “Constant Companions. Classy.”

  Harris grabbed the card from Anna. “Hey, that’s one of the agencies my Nikki works for.”

  Anna looked at Harris. “I thought Nikki was a professional glamour model?”

  “Yeah, she is,” Harris stammered. “But she does a bit of escort work on the side, a couple of evenings a week. You know, to help pay the bills when it’s quiet. Anyway, it’s all above board. No sleeping with the clients. The agencies clean. I’ve checked them out.”

  “Not using Police resources, I hope, Jez?”

  Harris shuffled uncomfortably. Taylor grinned. “Dropped yourself in the shit again, Jezza?”

  Anna ignored them. “There’s some here that are definitely less reputable,” she said, selecting another card. “At least three of these are known brothels.”

  Harris shrugged. “Yeah, well Nikki ain’t nothing to do with them.”

  “We can check them out,” Roberts said. “Right, Pete?”

  Metcalf let out a long sigh.

  “Hold on, Lee,” Taylor objected. “You can’t go cherry picking the best jobs. Me and Mac might be best for that job, right, Anna?”

  Anna looked up from the cards. “A tad overweight, did you say, Barry?”

  Taylor’s smile vanished. “Oh, come on…”

  “I’m senior officer until either Mac or the Guv come in, Barry. You should have thought of that earlier.”

  Harris beamed at Taylor. “Now who’s dropped themselves in the shit?”

  Metcalf leaned forward. “There’s enough there for both of us, Anna, don’t you think?”

  Anna pushed the cards back at Metcalf. “Men. Sort it out between you. Except Constant Companions. Jez and I will take that one.”

  While Roberts and Taylor squabbled over which cards they would work on Anna took Harris to one side.

  “Jez, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. What say I head off to Costa and you head off to see Nikki. Official business. Have a quiet word. See what you can come up with.”

  “On my own, you mean?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “What, getting paid to go and see my girlfriend? You’re kidding!”

  “Just remember it’s Police business.” Anna shot a glance at Taylor and Roberts. “But it certainly won’t do you any harm with the Guv if you come up with a lead and they don’t.”

  Mackenzie appeared in the doorway.“Jez, I’ve booked you in for some OT tonight. Is that okay?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Mackenzie grinned. “Not really. Observation. Anonymous tip-off. Probably nothing, but can’t take the risk ”

  Harris cursed beneath his breath. “Why can’t Barry do it?”

  “He’s already got a job tonight. With me.” To Taylor, “The Guv just updated me, Barry. Midnight bloody interviews. What the hell were you thinking of?”

  “Wasn’t me, Mac,” Taylor protested.He grinned at Harris. “Still, better than a stake-out, right, Jez?”

  “Bollocks,” said Harris.

  Chapter 38.

  “I’m just going for a soak, hun,” Red told Pippa. “It’s been a long day.”

  “No worries. Ruby here has some homework I’m going to help her with.”

  “Homework? My Rubes? No way!”

  Ruby nodded solemnly at Red. “Miss Wiggle wants us to cut out some pictures of our favourite toys, and write what they are underneath. Mummy has buyed me special scissors so I can cut them myself.”

  “Your own special scissors? You are so lucky! And who’s this Miss Wiggle when she’s at home?”

  “I think you’re new teaching assistant is called Miss Wrigley, Ruby,” Pippa said. “And buyed is not a word. It’s bought.”

  Ruby shrugged, turning her attention back to the ice-cream she was chasing around her bowl.

  Red pulled the kitchen door closed after her. The thought of the gun being hidden in the house had haunted her all day, following her around like some black ghost wherever she went. She reached the landing and listened out for the other children.

  The dull thump of music emanated from Ella’s room, punctuated intermittently with the ping of a text arriving or leaving. Jack’s bedroom door was open and Red could see his legs swinging back and forth over the edge of his bed as he pirouetted his Xbox controller in the air.

  “Hey, you. What’cha playing?”

  “COD 4.” Jack’s eyes never left the screen.

  “Cool. Mind if I shut the door? I want a nice relaxing soak without the sound of machine gun fire.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks, soldier.”

  Padding across the landing to her own bedroom, Red tried trying to visualize everything as it had been before, making sure nothing looked out of place.

  The covers on the bed were pulled neatly across, not a wrinkle in sight. The curtains hung in perfect symmetry, drawn and tied back. The early evening sunlight bathed the cherry-wood floor in a warm, yellow glow.

  Red fell to her knees at the foot of their king-size bed, and lifted the lid on the huge red leather packing case. Blankets and linen lay neatly folded on top, just as it had been the day before.

  Moving those to one side Red plunged her hand underneath layer upon layer of sheets and pillowcases. She rummaged frantically for the carrier bag, feeling her heart beat in her throat.

  Seconds later, her fingers caught hold of something cold and plastic. The welcome rustle and heavy weight returned her pulse to normal almost
instantly.

  Sinking back on her haunches, Red looked up to the ceiling, sending up a silent prayer in thanks. One thing she could rely on was that Pippa would never involve herself in domestic chores if she could help it. She hadn’t opened the ottoman in years.

  Red grabbed her bathrobe and wrapped it around the bag with the gun inside. She held her breath as she carried it self-consciously to the bathroom, both arms holding it to her chest, as if anyone seeing her might cause her to drop the weapon.

  Once inside she slid the bolt across and breathed a sigh of relief. She put the bag down carefully and turned the taps to run the bath, then turned them off and turned on the shower instead. She directed the rose so it sprayed against the glass, then turned the power up full. Adjusted the hot-cold ratio so the water was cool. Less steam.

  She checked the door again, just to be sure, then slowly unwrapped the gun and held it in her hands. A Magnum she decided. She had no idea, but it looked like something Clint Eastwood might have on him. She wondered why the name had been filed off.

  Red stood before the mirror, the gun at her side, one finger gingerly on the trigger.She brought the weapon up, pointing it at her reflection.Now ask yourself, did I fire six shots, or was it only five? Well punk? D’ya feel lucky?

  The excitement subsided as quickly as it surged. The image of the Huntsman shooting Bill Andrews flashed through Red’s mind. She reflexively dropped the gun. It landed on a pile of soft towels by her feet. Her hands were trembling.

  Tomorrow it goes.

  Chapter 39.

  “Pass me the rice, Jez.”

  Harris sucked Peking sauce from his fingers, then wiped his hands on his trousers. “Here you go, sweet-cheeks.”

  Nikki scooped rice from the container onto her plate with accomplished movements using chopsticks.

  Harris watched her enviously. “Give me a knife and fork any day of the week.”

  “You’re so uncultured sometimes, Jez. Do you know that?”

  Harris grinned. “But that’s why you love me right?”

  Nikki gave him the special smile she knew turned him on. “I’d love you more if you were staying all evening.”

  “I was stitched up,” Harris explained. “Mac’s fault.Still, the money will be useful. So, any news on the magazine shoot?”

  “Nothing yet. They’ve got some other girls to see. Anyway, I’m not sure I want that gig. It’s long hours and the pay’s not great.”

  “Yeah, but it’d mean you could give up the agencies.”

  “We’ve been over this, Jez. I like working at the agencies. It’s easy money. I get paid to dress up and get taken to posh restaurants.”

  “I know you do, hun’, but I don’t like the thought of you going out with other men.”

  Nikki reached across the table, taking his hand. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like I’m sleeping with them.”

  “I know, I’d just feel a lot better if you gave it up, that’s all.” Harris popped a prawn cracker in his mouth. “One of the guys who got his thingy chopped off has used your agency before.”

  Nikki’s chopsticks stopped mid-air, a sweet and sour pork ball poised between them. “Do you mind!”

  “Sorry.” Harris grinned. “Anyway, you’re okay. It was his dick, not his balls. Yeah, Stu his name was. Stuart Walker. Did you come across him at all?”

  Nikki shrugged. “I don’t take any notice of names. It’s just a couple of hours out on the town, then a kiss goodbye.”

  “A kiss?”

  “Just a peck on the cheek, Jez, for God’s sake.”

  “Do you think you’d recognize him if I showed you a photo?”

  “Maybe.”

  Harris picked up his phone, thumbing through his emails. “This is him. From a year ago. It’s the only recent photo we could get hold of.” He held the screen up for Nikki to see.

  Nikki studied the image briefly. “No, never seen him before. How do you know he came to my agencies?”

  “Their cards were in his bedside cabinet, along with several others. The lads are checking them out.”

  “Sounds like you’re no closer to finding this guy than before.”

  “Between us, beautiful, we haven’t got a clue.”

  Chapter 40.

  Jez Harris tapped impatient fingers on the steering wheel of the Vauxhall Insignia, checking the digital clock on the dash for the tenth time in as many minutes. Seeing it flick over to 01:00 he thumbed the radio at his shoulder.

  “Lima three-one-five. Nothing to report. This is a waste of time, if you want my opinion.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Jez,” came the indifferent reply. “Only another five hours to go.”

  “Bollocks.” Harris switched off the transmitter. He hated late night stake-outs. Nothing could be worse than watching a gents’ toilets all night. But the anonymous tip-off couldn’t be ignored. Just in case. And Mackenzie was making him pay for pulling a fast one to spend a few days with Nikki.

  His fingers absently played with the strap of the Rolex Nikki had bought him. Nikki. He could be there now, cuddled up in bed. Maybe hard at it.

  He stared at the door to the public convenience. A light was flitting off and on inside. Not a single person had been in there since he’d arrived.

  Her flat was just a short drive away. No traffic at this time of night. He could be there and back before the next check in.

  A twenty-four hour Tesco was just up the road. He slipped the car into gear and drove there, parked up and raced around the store with a basket. Came out with an A4 plain paper artist’s pad, a black marker pen, a pack of blu-tac and a cheap spray of cut flowers.

  Back across the road from the toilets he laid the artist’s pad on the passenger seat and with the greatest of care wrote Out Of Order in bold letters with the black marker pen, ripped the page out and took it over to the gents’. A quick tour confirmed no-one had been dismembered and killed in his absence.

  He pulled the door shut, pulled off some lumps of blu-tac and stuck the Out Of Order sign at eye-level on the painted woodwork. It covered the gents’ symbol, but Harris figured that didn’t really matter. No-one would be going in there now.

  He stood back and admired his handiwork. It wasn’t going to win any awards, but in the amber glow of the sodium street lamps it would do the job. It might even save some poor bastard’s life, he thought as he drove away.

  Chapter 41.

  Ten minutes later Harris was back on the fourth floor of a small apartment block in Brixton, scanning the room numbers. The corridor was unlit so he used his mobile’s keyhole light to illuminate the room number. He slipped the key into the lock.

  The door opened into the same compact living room he had left a few hours earlier.He reached for the light switch and the 60 Watt bulb revealed a clutter of half empty take-away cartons. Chinese. You could at least have cleared up, he thought. The room will be stinking by the morning.

  He threw the flowers onto the sofa and made straight for the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, the gap illuminated by the flickering of a small TV set, volume turned down to barely audible. His eyes moved to the bed. He could see the shape of her beneath the covers, her bleached blonde hair spread out on the Egyptian cotton pillowcases.He felt the stirring in his groin. He hoped she was up for it. Tough luck if not.

  He held his breath so as not to wake her while he silently undressed, feeling the arousal as he thought about slipping in behind her, gently waking her with kisses on the back of her neck. “God, I’m one lucky bastard,” he whispered into the darkness.

  Lifting the covers he slid into the bed, nuzzling into her back. “Nikki, babe. It’s me,” he whispered. He grappled under the quilt for the bottom of her nightdress, easing it up her thighs. She murmured, still foggy from sleep, wriggling slightly to move closer into him. “That’s it, babe, come to Jezza.”

  Suddenly the figure sat bolt upright. “What are you doing?” a gruff voice demanded. By the flickering light of the TV Harris saw the
blonde head turn towards him.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” Jez leapt out of bed, dragging a sheet to cover himself. “Who the hell are you?”

  The figure clambered out of the other side of the bed, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing like a stranded goldfish. Harris took in the well-toned figure of a pale male, late teens, wearing a pink negligee and a long blonde wig, his lips painted red. In need of a shave. Harris felt his buttocks clench.

  It was a toss-up over who looked the most surprised.

  Harris came to his senses first. He pulled his trousers on, his face flushing purple, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “Where’s Nikki? Who the hell are you?” He yanked the zipper up and scrambled over the bed, pinning the youth against the wall, a hand at his throat. “Speak to me, you freak! What’s going on?”

  The youth stared back at Harris, then suddenly two powerful arms came up, grabbing Harris by the wrists. A twist and Harris was flying back across the bed, to crash into the far wall, fighting for breath.His opponent stood still. Watching. Saying nothing.

  Harris lunged for his jacket, producing his badge. He held it up. “Police! You’re under arrest!”

  The youth stared back indifferently.

  “Where’s Nikki?” Harris demanded. “What have you done to my girlfriend?” He leapt back across the bed and launched himself at the interloper a second time. Two hands came up and grabbed Harris by the wrists gain. Spun him round and twisted one arm back in a half-nelson. Harris yelped in pain.

  In front of him the door swung open. The silhouette of a female figure.

  Oh my God, there’s two of them!

  The ceiling light clicked on, flooding the room with brightness.

  “Jez! Leave him alone!” Nikki stood in the doorway, looking anxiously from Harris to the youth holding him effortlessly in the half nelson. “Kevin, are you okay?”

  Harris’s mouth dropped open. “Kevin? Jesus. You know this perv?” The hurt shone in Harris’s wide eyes as his mind raced to make sense of things. “That thing? You’re two-timing with a… With whatever that is?”