by Roberta Kray
Through her marriage to Reggie Kray, Roberta Kray has a unique and authentic insight into London’s East End. Born in Southport, Roberta met Reggie in early 1996 and they married the following year; they were together until Reggie’s death in 2000. Roberta is the author of many previous bestsellers including Broken Home, Strong Women, Bad Girl and Streetwise.
Also by Roberta Kray
The Debt
The Pact
The Lost
Strong Women
The Villain’s Daughter
Broken Home
Nothing But Trouble
Bad Girl
Streetwise
Non-fiction
Reg Kray: A Man Apart
The Honeytrap: Part 2
Roberta Kray
Copyright
First published as an ebook in 2015 by Sphere
ISBN 978-0-7515-6109-8
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © Roberta Kray 2015
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Sphere
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
www.littlebrown.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Contents
About the Author
Also by Roberta Kray
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Coming Next In The Honeytrap …
7
Harry was parked up near the Lincoln Pool Hall when the call came through from Jess. Although he could hear the panic in her voice, he didn’t share her anxiety. It was more likely, he thought, that Sylvie had been forced to make a hasty exit; she may have spotted a former target or someone else she knew and was afraid her cover would be blown. And the guy, Keynes, could have had any number of reasons for leaving.
He rang Lorna, explained the situation and asked if she’d heard from Sylvie yet.
‘Only the text to say she’d arrived. That was about eight o’clock. Nothing since.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be in touch. I don’t think we need to be too worried, but I’m going over to Wilder’s. I’ll ring you again in a while.’
‘How long has it been, Harry? How long has she been gone?’
‘Not that long. Fifteen, twenty minutes? If she left in a hurry, she may have forgotten to text. Or maybe her phone needs charging.’
‘Perhaps we should come down to the office. What do you think?’
‘It’s up to you. Look, I’d better go. Speak to you later, yeah? And let me know if she gets in touch.’
Harry tried Sylvie’s number next but it went straight to voicemail. ‘Hi, it’s Harry. Could you call me as soon as you get this? It’s important.’
He threw the phone on the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition and started up the Vauxhall. He’d spent the last six hours following Danny Street around, hoping that Ellen would show her face. If there was any kind of deal still on the cards, she’d have to make contact eventually, and he wanted to be there when she did.
Ellen was still on Harry’s mind as he pulled up outside Wilder’s. Her past had been a difficult one, a tangle of lies and deceit. It was the fear in her eyes that haunted him, the knowledge that it was all going wrong for her again. He didn’t understand why she’d run from him and felt bemused by it, even faintly offended. Hadn’t he only ever tried to help? And they’d been close for a while. They’d had one of those strange connections, a mutual understanding that went beyond mere words. Or maybe the connection had all been in his head. Had he just been kidding himself?
He slapped the wheel with the palms of his hands, frustrated by the thought that he might miss her while he was chasing after shadows. Sylvie was smart, streetwise, and he didn’t really believe that she needed any help. There would be a rational explanation for why she’d gone missing … if she had gone missing at all.
Jess was standing on the pavement shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, and was on him as soon as he got out of the car. ‘Have you heard anything?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Why would she just go off like that? I was waiting for her. She wouldn’t just have left without telling me. We should ring the police. Something’s happened, I know it has.’
‘We don’t know anything yet,’ Harry said. ‘Let’s not panic before we’ve checked the place out.’
‘I’ve already checked it out. I know every nook and cranny of this damn bar and I’m telling you she isn’t here.’
‘So we’ll check again.’
Except now they had another problem. The man on the door, taking the tickets, refused to let Harry in. ‘No invite, no entry,’ he said firmly.
‘He’s with me,’ Jess said.
‘It ain’t a plus one, lady.’
‘We’ll only be five minutes. We’re not staying. We’re just looking for a friend of ours.
You know, the girl I asked you about earlier, the fair-haired girl. You said you hadn’t seen her leave.’
The man looked at Jess, shrugged and transferred his attention to Harry. ‘You need a ticket, mate.’
Harry was losing patience. The sooner he got inside, the sooner he could get all this sorted and return to the Lincoln. ‘Get your boss,’ he said. ‘I want to see Guy Wilder.’
‘He’s busy. There’s a party on, in case you ain’t noticed.’
‘Well, you’ve got a tough decision to make. You can either get him or have half the local police force crawling over the bar. Your choice – but I’d make it fast.’
‘What’s this got to do with the law?’
‘Just get your boss, okay?’
Eventually the doorman gave in, called over a colleague and asked him to find Guy Wilder. While they waited, Harry pulled Jess to one side and asked her to go through exactly what had happened from the moment she and Sylvie arrived. He listened carefully and when she’d finished he said, ‘So if you were reading, she could have walked straight past and out the door and you wouldn’t have noticed.’
‘It’s possible, but I don’t see why she would. Even if she was in a hurry, it would only take two seconds for her to say she was going. And the doorman doesn’t remember her leaving.’
‘He might not have noticed if there were guests coming in.’
‘People always notice Sylvie.’
Harry couldn’t dispute that. He breathed in the chilly night air and gazed up and down the road. The station was only round the corner; Sylvie could have picked up a black cab from there or hopped on a train. Although that didn’t explain why she’d made no contact since. He tried her phone but it went straight to voicemail again.
Eventually Guy Wilder came to the door. He was a tall, handsome blond man, confident and charismatic. Harry had mixed feelings about him. On the surface Wilder was clever, amusing and affable, but from what he’d heard there was a darker side, a more sinister edge to his character.
‘Mr Lind. How nice to see you again. Is there a problem?’
It was Jess who answered the question, as eager as Harry to get on with the search. ‘We just want to have a look round.
I was here earlier with a friend, but she seems to have … we only want to see if she’s still inside.’
‘A quick look,’ Harry added. ‘It won’t take long.’
Wilder glanced from one to the other. ‘Well, I can’t see any difficulty with that. But there was a mention of the police? I don’t quite understand.’
Jess jumped in again. ‘We’ve not been able to contact her and we’re starting to worry.’ She gave a brief description of Sylvie, asking if he’d seen her.
Wilder shook his head. ‘Sorry, but it’s pretty crowded in there. I’ll ask my manager and the staff. I’m sure if she’s in the bar we’ll find her.’
‘Thanks,’ Harry said. ‘There’s probably just been a misunderstanding.’ He saw Jess shoot him an angry glance as if he was implying that she was overreacting, but deliberately avoided her eyes. In truth, he expected Sylvie to ring at any minute – and if she didn’t, to find her inside the bar looking for Jess.
Wilder stood aside and waved them in. ‘You’ll be discreet, yes? I don’t want the guests being bothered.’
‘Of course,’ Harry said. He took hold of Jess’s elbow and propelled her over the threshold before she could say anything to make Wilder change his mind. When Jess got the bit between her teeth, discretion went straight out of the window. ‘You check the Ladies’ again,’ he said. ‘I’ll cover the bar.’
Harry made his way through the room, looking at every face, every sofa, every place Sylvie could possibly be. He kept his eyes peeled for any blonde wearing a pink dress. He was aware of the images playing on the walls, of the close-ups, of Lauren Bacall gently taunting Bogart in Key Largo. He stopped for a second to gaze at the screen; a moment of distraction before he continued with the search.
By the time Harry joined Jess by the toilets, he was certain Sylvie wasn’t in the bar. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘She’s not here.’
‘So what now?’
‘Have you tried the emergency exit?’
Jess stared along the passageway. ‘You think she could have gone out that way?’
‘Maybe. If she didn’t want to be seen.’ Harry strode forward and pushed against the metal handle of the fire door. It swung open into a shadowy yard filled with crates of empty wine bottles. He glanced around for a light but couldn’t see one. ‘Hold it open while I take a look.’
Jess leaned against the door while Harry ventured into the yard. There was a high gate, topped with razor wire. He tried the handle, found the gate was unlocked, opened it and saw that it led into a short alley that ran around the side of the building and back on to the high street. It was too dark to see anything clearly, and impossible to tell if Sylvie had been there.
‘What’s that?’ Jess asked, pointing towards a piece of tarpaulin that was stretched over something in the corner.
Harry peered at it before approaching. Despite his conviction that Sylvie was perfectly safe, he still held in his head the memories of all the cold corpses he had found in the past. He found himself holding his breath as he crossed the yard, leaned down and tentatively lifted a corner.
‘What is it?’ Jess hissed.
Harry stared at the lumpen shape, unsure for a moment as to what he was looking at: a soft twisted mass, the gleam of something metallic …
The voice that came from behind Jess was cold and clear and edged with irritation. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Oh,’ Jess said, turning towards Guy Wilder. ‘Sorry, we thought Sylvie might have come out this way.’
‘And hidden herself under a tarpaulin?’ Wilder strode out into the yard, glared at Harry and whipped back the sheet to reveal a heap of paint pots, old rags, brushes and empty bottles of turpentine. ‘As you can see – nothing very interesting. Would you care to tell me what’s really going on?’
‘A girl is missing,’ Harry said.
Wilder glanced down. ‘And you think she might be lying under here?’
‘No one said that.’
‘So you’re just snooping around because?’
‘No one’s snooping,’ Jess said. ‘We were just … just checking she wasn’t here.’
Wilder dropped the tarpaulin, gave a snort and said, ‘Well, I think we’ve established that, so unless there’s anything else I can do for you?’
‘No,’ Harry said.
‘Yes,’ Jess said. ‘Did you ask the staff if they’d seen her?’
Wilder gave a sigh. ‘Yes, they saw her earlier, talking to some guy at the bar.’
‘But no one saw her leave?’
‘We’re very busy. People are coming and going all the time.’
‘What about the man she was talking to? Joshua Keynes. Did anyone see him go?’
‘I have no idea who Joshua Keynes is. This is a private reception; I’ve never seen most of these people before.’
But Jess was persistent. ‘So could you tell me who the organiser is? Perhaps I could have a word with them and—’
‘No,’ Wilder said firmly. ‘You’re not having a word with anyone, not tonight. I want you both to leave. You’ve established that your friend isn’t here so I suggest you go somewhere else to look for her.’
Harry took Jess by the arm and propelled her back into the passageway. ‘Come on, that’s enough. Let’s go.’
Guy Wilder closed the fire exit behind them and escorted them through the crowd to the door of the bar. ‘Goodnight,’ he said when they were safely out on the pavement.
Harry gave a nod to Wilder. ‘Thanks for letting us look round.’ He knew they’d overstepped the mark and been caught in the act, and didn’t want to make an enemy of the man. If anything had happened to Sylvie – although he still doubted it – they might need his cooperation in the future.
Jess shot an angry glance at Harry as they walked away. ‘“Thanks for letting us look round”,’ she mimicked. ‘What’s wrong with you? Sylvie’s missing, for God’s sake. We’ve got every right to check out his yard.’
‘I think you’ll find that it’s private property.’
‘So what? If he’s got nothing to hide, why should it bother him?’
‘For the same reason it would bother you if someone started rooting around your back garden without asking permission.’
‘I haven’t got a back garden, and anyway, we did ask.’
Harry raised his eyes to the heavens. ‘She’s not there, Jess. What do you want me to do, rip the place apart?’
‘But we have to do something. What about the police? Don’t you think we should ring them now?’
Harry took out his phone and checked it again. Nothing. ‘Let’s go to the office first and dig out her address. She might be there.’
‘If she was there, she’d have called you.’
‘She could still be on her way home. She might not have picked up my message yet.’
As Jess walked beside him she kept glancing over her shoulder.
‘What?’ he asked, looking back too. It was Saturday night and the street was busy. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just … Do you ever get that feeling?’
‘What feeling?’
Jess gave a visible shudder. ‘Like someone just walked over your grave.’
8
As they turned the corner into Station Road, Harry looked up towards the first-floor windows and saw that the office lights were on. So Mac and Lorna had come over after all. He paused when he and Jess came to the station and stared towards the platforms. There was no sign of Sylvie. ‘We’d better check out the Fox,’ he said. ‘She could be waiting in there.’
‘She won’t be,’ Jess said.
‘We should still take a look.’
So they pushed their way through the crowds from one end of the pub to the other. There were plenty of blondes and Harry ran his gaze over all of them, searching for Sylvie’s distinctive features. By now Jess’s pessimism was starting to get to him. What if she was right and something bad had happened? But he didn’t want to believe it. He kept expectin
g to see the French girl loom into his line of vision, all smiles and apologies, with a perfectly rational explanation as to why she’d disappeared.
He waited while Jess went to the bar and had a word with the landlady, Maggie McConnell. The older woman shook her head, went off to speak to the two barmaids, returned and shook her head again. Jess’s shoulders slumped. She came over to join him, her mouth set in a grim tight line.
‘No, she’s not been back.’
They left the pub, waited for a gap in the traffic and jogged across the road. Harry opened the door and they climbed the stairs to the office in silence. Lorna was in Mac’s office, rooting through a filing cabinet with one hand while she held the phone to her ear with the other. She pulled out a folder, laid it flat and flicked through the contents. ‘Yes, that’s definitely it,’ she said. ‘Number forty-three. I thought it was. Forty-three B.’ She paused. ‘I suppose you could give it another ten minutes or so.’ A longer pause. ‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’
Jess leaned against the door, waiting for Lorna to finish her call. ‘Was that Mac?’
‘Yes, he’s over in Shoreditch now, at Sylvie’s flat, but there’s no one there. He’s going to hang around for a while, see if she shows up.’
‘She won’t,’ Jess said bleakly.
Harry got a coffee from the machine, raised the plastic cup to his mouth and blew across the hot surface. ‘You don’t know that. You want a drink?’
‘No,’ Jess said. ‘No, thanks.’ She looked over at Lorna. ‘Have you called Joshua Keynes’s girlfriend? We need to find out where he is.’
Lorna glanced at Harry. ‘I’m not sure if—’
‘We can’t call her,’ he said.
Jess frowned at him. ‘Why not?’
‘And say what? We think your boyfriend might have done something to the girl who was trying to set him up? What if he’s completely innocent in all this?’
‘Well, he wasn’t slow to take her phone number so he’s not exactly innocent. And anyway, I’m sure you can find a more subtle way of putting it.’
‘Really? Like what?’