Strong Women

by Roberta Kray

  With the last of his clients having been served, Stevie was preparing to leave. Leo wheeled his bike over and stood in front of him. ‘I need something,’ he muttered.

  ‘You name it, I’ve got it.’ Stevie grinned. ‘So long as you’ve got the cash.’

  ‘I’ve got it.’

  ‘Come on then, spit it out. I ain’t got all day. Bit of skunk, is it, a few Es?’

  ‘No, it’s …’ Leo said. His voice had gone hoarse. He stopped, cleared his throat and tried again. ‘I need a gun.’

  Stevie pushed his hands deep into his pockets and looked him up and down. ‘Fuck off!’

  Leo had to muster all his courage. Stevie scared the hell out of him but he couldn’t allow him to see it. Bullies could smell fear, could sniff it out at a hundred paces. He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. ‘What’s the matter? Too big for you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So?’

  Stevie glared at him. He didn’t like his reputation being called into question, especially by some scrawny loser in a school uniform. He shrugged. ‘You’re just a kid. You can’t afford it.’

  Leo took the money he had, the two twenties and the six tens he’d withdrawn from his savings account earlier that afternoon, and showed it to him. ‘A hundred,’ he said.

  Stevie stared at the cash, his cold eyes gleaming. That put a different slant on things. Eventually, he nodded. ‘Okay, put it away. You want everyone to see? I may be able to help. What kind of gun?’

  ‘Small,’ Leo said, thinking about how he would have to hide it from his mother. ‘And I’ll need some ammo too.’

  ‘What do you want it for?’

  Leo knew better than to answer that. ‘Can you get it or not?’

  Stevie gave him another long hard look. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But it’ll take a few days.’

  Leo’s fingers grasped the handlebars. A few days were a few days too long. He thought of the brute upstairs and of what he might do to Jo. ‘No, that’s no good. I need it quicker than that. Can’t you—’

  ‘I’m not a fuckin’ miracle worker. Have some patience. These things can’t be rushed. There are people to call, arrangements to make. Shooters are serious stuff, man. You can’t just walk into Tesco and pick one off the bleedin’ shelf.’

  ‘I know,’ Leo said. He was about to say sorry but quickly bit down on his tongue. Apologising to the likes of Stevie Hills was tantamount to lying down and asking to be kicked. ‘I just need it soon, right? The sooner the better.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. You got a number?’

  But Leo didn’t want him ringing him. He’d watched the crime programmes on TV, seen how the police could trace calls. If Stevie got arrested, Leo didn’t want to be the last person he had rung. Come to that, he didn’t even want to be in his address book. He could imagine his mother’s face, the shock and the shame, if the cops turned up on their doorstep. He shook his head. ‘I had it nicked a couple of days ago. I haven’t got a new one yet.’

  Stevie narrowed his eyes and stared at him. He didn’t seem convinced. ‘So how do I get in touch?’

  ‘I’ll see you here. You’re around most days, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s the first time I’ve seen you. What if I sort things out, go to all that trouble and then you change your mind? I’m left with some piece I might not be able to get rid of. That’s not good, man. It’s not good at all.’

  Leo quickly shook his head. ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘Not good enough.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Stevie folded his thick arms across his chest. He made a show of looking around the Green, of acting out some big screen drama. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. ‘I need security, mate. I need a deposit. Fifty ought to do it.’

  Leo hesitated. ‘And how do I know that you won’t just disappear?’

  ‘Chance you’ll have to take,’ he sneered.

  Leo weighed up the odds. Stevie Hills, for all his talk, for all his bravado, was purely small-time. Fifty quid might be useful but it was not enough for him to abandon his pitch. He was a local boy with local connections. The money he got from dealing might not be a fortune but it was regular, reliable and enough to keep him coming back. However, knowing that he was coming back didn’t necessarily mean he would deliver. What if Stevie took the cash but didn’t bother getting him the gun? He could hardly go to the cops. The world of negotiation, as Leo was rapidly discovering, was a minefield.

  ‘I’ll give you twenty,’ Leo said.

  ‘No.’

  Leo took a gamble. ‘Forget it. I’ll try someone else.’

  ‘You don’t know anyone else.’

  ‘I might.’

  ‘You don’t.’ Stevie quickly reached out his hand, palm up. ‘Make it forty and I’ll have the piece for you by Friday.’

  ‘Make it thirty and you’ve got a deal.’

  ‘Go on then, but if you let me down—’

  Leo peeled off the notes and passed them over. ‘I won’t. I’ll see you here, same time on Friday.’

  Stevie shoved the notes in his pocket and stared at him. ‘Well? What are you waiting for, a bleedin’ conversation?’

  Leo flushed, put his head down and wheeled his bike towards the gates. Aware that Stevie was still watching him, he decided to cycle around for a while until he was gone. He didn’t want him seeing where he lived.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The sun was casting its evening rays across the Green, bisecting it into two clear halves of light and shadow. The windows to the flat were open and a light summer breeze drifted gently through the kitchen. They were sitting at the table. Jo picked at the ham salad, too nervous to eat properly. She didn’t like Gabe Miller’s plan for meeting up with Susan.

  ‘I spent hours slaving over that dressing,’ he said. ‘Come on, it’s hardly the Last Supper.’

  She lifted her head, glancing across at the counter where a bottle of Tesco’s finest French dressing was standing by the kettle. ‘Yeah, right.’ She paused. ‘Look, I don’t trust her. Anyone could be waiting for you there.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry.’

  Jo stared at him. The whole day had been decidedly odd and it wasn’t getting any better. ‘It’s Silver I’m worried about,’ she insisted, in case he got any ideas about her being overly concerned for his welfare. ‘What’s going to happen to the girl if you’re not around?’

  ‘What’s going to happen to her if I’m just sitting in this flat doing zilch? This could be my one and only chance of talking to Susan face-to-face, of finding out who she’s working with, of maybe even convincing her that she has to let the kid go.’

  ‘And how likely is that?’

  Gabe shrugged. ‘It’s possible. She couldn’t have known that Ritchie Naylor was going to be knocked off and I’m damn sure she’s not happy about it. She’s in too deep. I think she’s looking for a way out.’

  ‘And if she isn’t?’

  ‘Then I’ll have to persuade her.’

  Jo speared a slice of cucumber and put it in her mouth. She chewed, tasting nothing, swallowed and put down her fork. She had one of those cold dread feelings spreading through her gut. This all felt wrong, terribly wrong. ‘It could be a set-up.’

  ‘It’s not,’ he said.

  ‘Why not? She wasn’t too worried about having you beaten up on Friday.’

  ‘This is different. Things have changed since then. Now she thinks I know who she’s working with she can’t take the risk of me telling Delaney.’

  ‘You won’t be able to tell him if you’re not breathing any more.’

  ‘True,’ he said, ‘but is she really going to take the chance that I haven’t already passed the information on to someone else? Or at least made contingency plans so that if anything does happen to me …’

  ‘You could be overestimating her intelligence,’ Jo said. Then, realising that the comment sounded rather more catty than she’d intended, quickly added: ‘
I mean, you don’t really know what she’s thinking or the risks she might be prepared to take. It’s hours since you talked to her. She could have been straight on the phone to her partner. By now they could have made all kinds of arrangements. They could have completely changed their plans so that it doesn’t matter if Delaney knows the guy’s identity or not.’

  ‘That’s a chance I’ll have to take.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘you don’t have to take it.’ Jo suspected that his feelings for Susan were clouding his judgement. That was the trouble with men like Gabe Miller, they had a tendency – no matter what the evidence to the contrary – to overestimate their appeal to the women they had slept with. ‘Is it a chance you’re taking or an unnecessary risk?’

  ‘It’s hardly unnecessary. You got any better ideas?’

  ‘Yes. Call her back. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. Tell her you’ve decided to leave, to go away.’

  Gabe shook his head and laughed. ‘What? And that’s your idea of a plan?’

  ‘Why not?’ she said. She was suddenly determined to change his mind. ‘I never thought I’d be saying this but perhaps it’s safer for Silver if you just back off and let the whole thing go ahead. That way they won’t panic, won’t do anything too rash. Delaney pays the ransom and they release her. By interfering you could be putting her in more danger rather than less.’

  ‘And you really think, once the ransom has been paid, they’re just going to hand her over?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I think there’s more to this than just money.’

  Jo felt a shiver run down her spine. ‘You think,’ she said, ‘or you know?’

  Gabe didn’t answer immediately. He picked up his wine, took a drink and looked at her over the rim of the glass. For a moment she thought he was about to confide in her, to tell what he really knew, but he glanced away. ‘I don’t know anything for certain – how could I?’

  ‘But?’ she said. She was certain there was more

  ‘But nothing. I have to go there tonight. I have to see her.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve made an arrangement and I’m going to stick to it.’

  ‘Even if it means—’

  ‘It doesn’t,’ he said. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Look, you don’t have to worry. It’s all under control. Can we talk about something else?’

  Jo pushed her plate aside. She couldn’t see what was more important than this. ‘Like what, for instance?’

  ‘Well, how about those letters you’ve got stashed away? Do you really think your husband was murdered?’

  Jo’s heart almost stopped. She looked towards the drawer and back at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Hey, I wasn’t snooping. I just spilled some water while you were out. I was searching for a cloth and—’

  ‘And just happened to come across some private letters that you couldn’t resist reading?’

  Gabe’s dark eyes gazed back at her. ‘I wouldn’t call them letters exactly – more a series of notes and very repetitive ones at that.’

  She was so angry she could barely speak. ‘You … you had no right to read them.’

  He gave another of his casual shrugs. ‘No, I didn’t. But I’m naturally curious and if you wanted to keep them private the kitchen drawer might not have been the ideal place to hide them in.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to hide anything.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘The problem is that you had no right to go poking around in my things.’

  There was a short silence before he spoke again. ‘Have you shown them to the cops?’

  ‘They’re not interested,’ she said. ‘They don’t care. They just think it’s some crank.’

  ‘But you don’t.’

  Jo buried her face in her hands. ‘I don’t know what to think. Can we just drop the subject, please?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘but we’re rapidly running out of things to talk about.’

  She raised her head and gave him a look. ‘That’s probably because we have so little in common.’

  Gabe grinned. ‘Yeah, that’s often the way, isn’t it? You think everything’s just hunky dory, you move in together and next thing you know it’s all awkward silences or petty rows over who left the top off the toothpaste.’

  Jo felt a warm flush rise to her cheeks. She told herself it was sheer horror at the idea of their having any kind of relationship. ‘I’m glad you find it so amusing.’

  ‘Well, you know me, sweetheart, always looking for the bright side.’ He stood up and pulled on his jacket. ‘Anyway, never let it be said that I can’t take a hint. I’ll leave you in peace.’

  She glanced at the clock. ‘What are you doing? It’s only half past six. It won’t take you more than ten minutes to walk there.’

  ‘Best to get there early and have a recce, make sure there aren’t any undesirables hanging around.’

  Now that the moment had come, she felt a sudden rush of panic. What if he didn’t come back? What if something dreadful happened? He had, for all his faults, a few good points too. On top of which, he was the only person who currently made her feel safe. The idea of losing him created a confusing tangle of fear and anxiety within her. ‘You don’t have to do this. There’s still time to change your mind.’

  ‘I think we’ve already had that conversation.’

  ‘Yes, but—’ Jo stopped and nodded. She could see there was no way to persuade him. Gabe Miller was as stubborn as a mule. She couldn’t let him go, however, without uttering some words of moral support. ‘Okay. But … but you will be careful, won’t you?’

  ‘No need to ask,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’ He paused and grinned again. ‘Although that’s probably the last thing you want to hear.’

  Jo thought of uttering something suitably caustic in return. A few choice words rose to her lips but she swallowed them back down again. Not only was he entirely mistaken – she did want to see him safely back – but this wasn’t the most appropriate time for point scoring. ‘Later, then.’

  ‘Yeah, see you later.’

  She heard him jog down the stairs and open the front door but, instead of the expected click of the latch, she heard voices. Jo froze for a moment before she leapt out of her chair and ran out on to the landing. Her heart took a dive as she looked down. Carla was standing on the doorstep.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  ‘Hi,’ Carla said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘Is it all right for me to come in?’

  Gabe had already gone and Jo had no idea of what had been said in the few seconds it had taken her to get to the top of the stairs. Lord, of all the bad timing …

  She forced a smile, trying to think of any acceptable reason to refuse the request. There wasn’t one or at least not one that wouldn’t make things worse. ‘Of course. Can you close the door behind you?’

  Carla looked over her shoulder. She could probably still see Gabe from where she was standing. ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I? I mean, if he’s coming back or—’

  ‘He’s not,’ Jo said, perhaps a little too sharply. ‘It’s fine. Just come on up.’ She retreated to the kitchen, softly cursing. Damn! She knew exactly what Carla was thinking and the kind of cross-examination that was about to ensue. She flicked on the kettle and waited.

  Carla was still grinning as she walked into the room. Her gaze instantly alighted on the table, still strewn with the remains of the meal and with the place settings for two. ‘Sorry to turn up unannounced. I was just passing and … Are you sure it’s okay?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’ Jo said, trying to appear calm and relaxed. Her response might have been more convincing if she hadn’t had her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

  She quickly dropped them to her sides.

  Carla lifted her brows. ‘Your friend seems very nice, rather fit in fact. Tall, dark and sexy.’ She laughed. ‘Come on, spill the beans. Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s his name? Where did you meet him?�
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  ‘It’s not what you think.’ Jo said, rapidly trying to construct a cover story. ‘He’s just an old friend. He called me yesterday and—’

  ‘God, Jo, you don’t have to make excuses to me.’ Carla pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘You’re perfectly entitled to see any man you choose. It’s been two years since Peter died. No one expects you to live like a nun.’

  ‘It’s not like that.’

  Carla stared at her. She pulled a face. ‘Sorry, I was only—’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Jo said, sitting down too. She knew that Carla’s heart was in the right place, that she only wanted the best for her but she couldn’t even begin to pretend that Peter had been replaced by someone like Gabe Miller. ‘It’s just that he isn’t … I’m not … it really isn’t like that. He’s very nice but we’re just friends. He’s just a friend.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Carla said. ‘I only caught a glimpse but I certainly wouldn’t throw him out of my bed!’

  ‘Tony might have something to say about that.’

  ‘I doubt he’d even notice.’ She dipped her finger and thumb into the salad bowl and picked out a piece of red pepper. She popped it into her mouth. ‘So what’s his name?’

  Jo didn’t like lying to her but she didn’t have much choice. ‘Mike,’ she said. ‘Mike Seymour.’ Her history of making up names hadn’t had much success to date but she could hardly tell her the truth. Gabe was a wanted man but not in the sense that Carla was imagining. ‘He’s only in London for a few days. He’s just passing through.’

  ‘That’s a shame. What does he do?’

  Jo racked her brains. This and that, Gabe’s own reply to the question, would only arouse more curiosity. She tried to think of something suitably vague. ‘He’s er … in the building trade.’