Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set

by Saffina Desforges

  Pippa gazed adoringly at Red. “I do believe that’s almost perfect! I knew there was a reason why I liked you. I’ll confirm dates with Richard.” Pippa relaxed back into the seat. “Now all we have to do is sort out Christmas. Any bright ideas?”

  “Funny you should ask.”

  “Richard wants the children Boxing Day.” Pippa reminded Red.

  “But he’s away the New Year, right? Him and Barbie-Girl are on the ski-slopes somewhere or other.”

  “The Swiss Alps,” Pippa confirmed. “And there, but for the grace of God, go I.”

  “You’ve never been skiing, Counsellor.”

  “Precisely my point. Every summer Richard would try to convince me to book a holiday for the following winter. But I would not even consider being seen in one of those ghastly outfits. As for cable cars. You saw what happened in that James Bond film you made me sit through.”

  “Do behave. Besides, I was thinking of the Lakes again.”

  Pippa stared at Red. “The Lakes? After last time?”

  Red nodded. “Especially after last time. First thing to do when you fall off a bike is to get back on.”

  Pippa considered the comparison. “Yes, you’re right. It would do us all good to confront our demons. And it’s not as if the Huntsman will be bothering us again.”

  Red suddenly found the view out of the window very interesting.

  Chapter 101.

  “Casa Romaneasca?”

  “Told you it was Romanian.”

  “You said a Romanian restaurant in the city.”

  “I said London. We’re inside the M25, aren’t we?”

  “Only just. That taxi fare was probably more than the meal will cost.”

  “Don’t exaggerate, Counsellor. You’re always telling the kids, sorry, our kids, about being open to new culinary experiences. Eclectic tastes, remember?”

  “So long as it’s not goulash.”

  “I think you’ll find that’s Hungary, Counsellor. As in Hungarian goulash?”

  “The first sign of a mouse, and we’re leaving. One can only take rustic so far.”

  Red pushed open the wooden door, scanning the restaurant for a waiter. A young man appeared from nowhere, cleanly dressed in black and white livery. A gleaming smile.

  “Table for four, mesdames?”

  Pippa looked behind her. No-one. She stared at the waiter.

  Red nudged her. “He means us. He’s presuming we must be accompanied.” To the waiter, “Table for two. We have a reservation. Name of Rose.”

  The gleaming smile. “Ms. Rose, of course. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you would be… That is, please, come this way. The Count has reserved a lovely table for you with a mountain view.”

  “The Count? Mountain view?”

  The waiter’s smile gleamed again. “Just a little fun for the tourists. But I can see you ladies have somewhat more sophisticated tastes.” He ushered them into a cubicle with a window, despite their being in the middle of the room. The curtains pulled aside automatically as they inched in, revealing a spectacular mountain view. “The Transylvanian Alps,” the waiter beamed. “Please, let me take your coats. Can I bring you a drink with the menu? Compliments of the maitre d’?”

  “A glass of wine each, thank you,” Pippa said. “Preferably red.”

  The smile. “But of course. Red wine is our speciality. Please, let me take your coats.”

  “American,” Pippa said as the waiter disappeared with their coats.

  “Don’t be daft. Course he’s not.”

  “With perfect teeth like that? He has to be.”

  “I’ll ask him when he comes back.”

  “You will do no such thing.”

  “What, worried you’ll be proved wrong?”

  “Let’s not start bickering,” Pippa said. “You know, I’m quite impressed, so far. This establishment has been very well thought out. I especially approve the way everyone gets a window seat.”

  “Let’s hope the food is as good.”

  “Mesdames.” The waiter reappeared with two glasses of wine and two menus. “With the Count’s compliments.”

  “Will we be meeting the mysterious Count before we leave?” Pippa asked.

  “Count Vadim is otherwise engaged this evening,” the waiter said. “Next time, perhaps?”

  “Tell Count Vadim I will look forward to that occasion.” Pippa said. “Beautiful glasses, by the way.” She held the half-empty vessel to the light.

  “Now, whenever you are ready to order, just wave.”

  “Are you American?” Red asked, to a sharp kick on the ankle from Pippa.

  “American? No, no. Romanian, of course. Born in Constanta, on the Black Sea coast.”

  “Told ya,” Red said to Pippa.

  “Do I sound American?”

  “It’s the perfect teeth. You must have excellent dentists in Romania.”

  The waiter’s hand flew to his mouth, the smile history. “Excuse me,” he mumbled through his fingers, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Now you’ve embarrassed the poor boy.”

  “You started it.”

  “I did no such thing. All I said was… Oh. My. God.”

  Red spun around. “What?”

  “To your right,” Pippa said. “This is not happening. Please tell me I’m dreaming.”

  Red followed Pippa’s gaze across the empty table immediately to her right, to the couple at the next setting. Her heart sank as she saw a fake-tan stained arm waving in the air.

  “Cass!” Nikki Marshall squealed. “Look, Jez, it’s your boss and her girlfriend.”

  “Shit.” Red stretched up a reluctant hand and wiggled her fingers at the pair. “Hey, fancy seeing you two here!”

  Harris stood awkwardly, pulling a napkin from the neck of his shirt. “Guv.”

  Red said a silent prayer that they were seated and already tucking into what looked like starters. “Evening, Jez. Small world.”

  “Anna recommended it. Thought we’d give it a try.”

  “Same here.”

  “How are you finding the food, Jeremy?” Pippa said by way of polite conversation.

  “Prices are a bit steep.”

  “Don’t know what you’re moaning about, Jezza,” Nikki piped up. “I’m the one who’s paying.”

  Harris cringed at the statement. To Red and Pippa, “I did offer to go halves,”

  “Yeah, but you only get a lowly copper’s wage,” Nikki said affectionately. “Only right it’s my treat.”

  “Well, we’ll leave you two love birds in peace,” Red said. “We’ve got things to discuss.”

  “Enjoy your meal, Guv.”

  “Phew! For a moment there I thought you were going to invite them to join us.” Pippa said beneath her breath.”

  “Really, Counsellor. Would I do a thing like that to you?”

  “Ladies!” a voice boomed before Pippa could answer. “I am Count Vadim! Welcome to Casa Romaneasca!” A smiling figure bowed so low his shining bald patch was almost level with the table. He pulled himself upright and extended a hand. “Please. I am the proprietor and chef. Allow me to recommend some of our specials.”

  “That would be lovely.” Pippa beamed. “Thank you.”

  “Our peasant beef soup is particularly popular to start with,” the Count said, clasping his hands to his chest. He turned to Nikki and Harris. “It is good, no?”

  “Excellent!” Harris spluttered between mouthfuls.

  Red finished the complimentary wine. “We’ll have a bottle of whatever that was. Where’s your cape?”

  Pippa kicked Red’s shins beneath the table. To Vadim, “The waiter said you were not here tonight?”

  “I have just this minute returned,” the Count explained. “I cannot bear to be away too long. Yes, the peasant beef soup is an aperitif traditional. Typically Romanian, a little of everything.”

  “Go for it.” Red said.

  “And for main, you simply must have the house special meatball
s. . It is regulation”.

  Closing the menu before Red could object, Pippa beamed at Vadim “That would be wonderful, thank you.” She paused a second. “I’m afraid I may have offended your waiter earlier.”

  Vadim waved a dismissive hand. “Do not worry. He is shy, that is all. But for the rest of the evening I, Count Vadim, am at your service.”

  “Count Vadim.” Red nodded appreciatively. “Nice touch.”

  “But it is true,” Vadim assured her. “My ancestry can be traced right back to the earliest days of the union between Moldavia and Wallachia.”

  Pippa reached for Vadim’s arm. “How lovely! I’ve never met a real-life count before.”

  Red buried her head in her hands. “Give me strength.”

  Chapter 102.

  “Jez has ordered that meatballs thingy. I’m having the sea bass.” Nikki patted her stomach. “I have to watch my figure, being a professional model.”

  “Lovely,” said Red. “Enjoy.”

  “We’ll let you know what they’re like.” Nikki said.

  “Yes,” Pippa said with resignation. “I’m sure you will.” To Red, “So, about the Lakes.” Hesitantly, “I was thinking maybe we should invite mother along.”

  “Great idea,” Red agreed.

  “Really?”

  “Seriously,” Red assured her. “Me and Madame Sin get on just fine. And it would mean we get some quality time to ourselves while she takes the kids on long country walks.”

  “I should have guessed there would be some ulterior motive, you sly thing.”

  “Mesdames.” A waiter appeared with the aperitifs. “The Count is preparing your main course at this very moment. It shall not be long.”

  “What happened to your mate?” Red asked. “The other waiter?”

  “He is on his break.”

  Red looked up. “Gissa smile.”

  The waiter forced a smile across his face, lips never parting. He bowed and left.

  “Touchy, aren’t they?”

  “Really, Cass, can I not take you anywhere without being embarrassed?”

  “Give it a break, Counsellor. You’re so –”

  Red’s words were drowned out by a squeal from Nikki.

  “Ooh, that looks lovely.” Nikki plunged a fork into the plate of juicy meatballs in front of Harris. “I’ll just have the one, Jezza, just to see what they taste like.”

  Harris smiled sheepishly at Red. “It’s probably full of dead rats anyway.”

  Red glared. “Cultural awareness extends to all nationalities, Jez.”

  “Yes, Jezza. What she said,” Nikki giggled. “Hey, Cass, was that last waiter a dead ringer for Sweeney Todd or what?”

  Red smiled at Nikki “I didn’t notice.” She turned apologetically to Pippa. “I’m sorry this evening didn’t quite turn out as planned.”

  “It’s not your fault. You could hardly have known those two would be here.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t have come if I had. Look at the pair of them. Still, we might get some peace and quiet now they’re both eating.”

  “Oh my god!” Harris shot up, scraping his chair noisily on the stone floor.

  “You were saying?” Pippa said.

  Every face in the restaurant turned to stare at Harris. Harris stared at his plate. Nikki stared at Harris, then at Red. A He’s not with me shrug.

  They watched as Harris used his dessert spoon to sift through his plate. He lifted a portion of food and slowly walked over to Red’s table.

  Pippa sank into her seat.“Oh my God. What is he doing?”

  “Offering you a taster by the look of it.” To Harris, “Jez?”

  “Guv, take a look at this.”

  “Jesus, Jez! Why would I want to inspect your regurgitated food?”

  “No, look. It’s a fingernail!”

  Red glared in disbelief at Harris. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jez.. That’s Nikki Two-Kays talking about Sweeney Todd. It’s triggered what little imagination you actually have.”

  Pippa leaned across. “Actually, I think he’s right.” There was a slight smile on her face. “It is a fingernail.”

  “This is sick,” Harris muttered. “I’m gonna complain. Where’s the manager?”

  “One moment, Jeremy. Before you embarrass yourself even more.” Pippa calmly turned to Nikki. “Nicola, would you be so kind as to hold up your hand.”

  Nikki stared at Pippa. “Do what?”

  “Your hand? Just hold it up.”

  Nikki hesitantly raised her hand.

  “Now the other.”

  Nikki complied, bewildered.

  “Index finger, left,” Pippa said. She pointed to the meatball on the spoon Harris was still holding out. “I’d recognize that garish glitter anywhere.”

  “Oh, Jezza!” Nikki brayed like a donkey. “And you thought it was real! Bring it over, will ya? I may be able to fix it back on.”

  Harris blew out a huge sigh. “Thank Christ for that. I thought we’d been eating missing Russian dissidents or something.”

  Red had to smile. “There you go, Jez. You can call the dogs off now.”

  Harris’s cheeks were colouring fast. He looked at Pippa. “Sorry.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Pippa assured him. “One can’t be too careful.”

  “That’s put me right off my dinner. Come on, Nikki. We’ll get a snack on the way home.”

  Nikki shovelled one last mouthful of food in. “Suits me, big boy. I’d much prefer a kebab anyway.” She threw some twenties on the table. “That should cover it.”

  “See you back at the madhouse, Jez,” Red said. “Bye, Nikki.”

  Nikki waved with both hands.

  Red kept the smile planted firmly on her face until Nikki and Harris had gone through the door. To Pippa, “Never a dull moment.”

  “Honestly, Cassandra. How do those two even hold a job down?”

  “Try working with one of them. Anyway, it’s just the two of us now. Peace and quiet, just what we came for.”

  Picking up her fork again, Pippa finally smiled. “No more dramas?”

  Red nodded. “I promise.”

  ~

  Pippa glanced at her watch. “It’s almost ten. Maybe we should skip dessert. Mother’s probably nodded off on the couch by now.”

  “I’m stuffed anyway.” Red pushed the last remaining meatballs around the plate, making patterns in the rich sauce. “Not sure I could even manage a profiterole.”

  “Nor I,” agreed Pippa. “In fact, I… Cass, pass me your plate, would you?”

  Red stared at Pippa. “Counsellor? If you’re that hungry, we can stay for the next course.”

  “Really, Cassandra. Have you ever known me eat from someone else’s plate?”

  “Then what?” Red watched bemused as Pippa prodded the left-overs with a fork.

  “Unless I’m very much mistaken there appears to be another fingernail. On your plate. And it most definitely is not Nikki’s.”

  Chapter 103.

  Pippa shot a curt glance at the device in Red’s hands. “Another gadget, Cass? Don’t tell me, fingerprints and photo-fits?”

  “Nothing to do with the Met, actually, Counsellor. Well, not directly, anyway. It’s an e-reader.”

  Pippa’s look of disdain darkened to outright contempt. “Really, Cassandra. Not you, too. My colleagues in Chambers have been trying to convince me my life isn’t complete without one of those horrid things.”

  “They’ve got a point. I’ve only had this a couple of days and already it goes everywhere with me.”

  “These co-called ebooks,” Pippa gesticulated air quotes with her fingers, “are just a fad. Give it a week and that thing will be gathering dust in a drawer with all your other expensive toys.”

  “Only when I upgrade to the next model. Honestly, Pip, you need to give this a whirl. It’s the best thing since sliced bread.”

  Pippa smiled smugly. “An apt description. Sliced bread is nothing like a real loaf, just as these... I hate even u
sing the word... these,” fingers rose to the air again, “ebooks are nothing like real books.”

  Red sat back to enjoy the rant.

  “It’s ridiculous to even think of comparing the two,” Pippa raged. “A book is a physical object, not an intangible. A good book is an object of beauty. Of desire. You can’t put that ludicrous device on your bookshelf and admire the spine. Or let the pages ripple through your fingers. Or...” Pippa stared into the air, searching for further examples to illustrate her point.

  “Gotta move with the times, Counsellor.”

  “That doesn’t mean embracing every new fad that comes along.”

  Red shrugged. “Yeah guess you’re right. I always said the internet and email were seven-day wonders. And mobile phones. Who came up with a crazy idea like that? As for flat screen televisions...” Red turned to admire the fifty-inch screen on the wall. “That reminds me, we really ought to upgrade to 3D.”

  “Cass, we are not getting 3D. It’s bad enough watching those HD channels, with those disgusting close-ups of the newsreader’s nostril hair. And please do not change the subject. I distinctly remember discussing e-readers with you a week or so before Christmas, and you agreed with me. Nothing could ever replace the feel of a real book in your hands. Honestly, you’re a candle in the wind.”

  Red sported a sheepish grin. “That was last year.”

  “It was five months ago.”

  “Pip, when do I get time to go to Waterstone’s?”

  “Why would you want to? This is London. We have a Foyle’s.”

  “Behave, Counsellor. Anyway, with this thing I can order a book and start reading it seconds later. Besides, some books aren’t available in print nowadays. Only as ebooks.”

  Pippa halted pouring the coffee to look up and make her point. “There’s a good reason for that.”

  Red sighed. “Here we go.”

  Pippa pressed on. “Times were, if you wanted to publish a book you had to work hard to make it happen. It had to be good just to get an agent, and then the agent had to convince the publisher to look at it. It was only exceptional books that got published and into a real book store. Now it seems anyone can jot down a few misspelt ramblings and throw them online as an ebook. The problem is, they’re all full of typos and written by dyslexics. I have never tried one and I assure you I never shall.”