The Lost Read online

  ‘Go inside,’ she said. She glanced nervously at Harry as if he might try to prevent it but when he didn’t she made a fast shooing motion with her hands. ‘Go on! Go on!’

  They watched as he stumbled towards the door. When he was safely inside, she turned towards Harry. ‘Thank you,’ she said again.

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  ‘He doesn’t know what he’s doing,’ she said. ‘He is … how you say – impulsive? He is young, very young.’

  Harry snorted. ‘Old enough to try and beat my brains to a pulp.’

  ‘You survive,’ she said. Her green eyes stared purposefully back at him. ‘So will you ring police?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? I’ve just been attacked by a bat-wielding maniac’

  Agnes pulled a face. ‘The cops will make trouble.’

  ‘Unlike your friend.’

  Her pink lips curled down at the corners. ‘I know. Is very bad. But he’s worried, afraid, yes? He thinks you try and make trouble for me.’

  Harry leaned back against the bonnet of a nearby car and rubbed at his shin, provoking a pain sharp enough to make him wince. ‘And why should I do that?’

  Her slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘You can have good guess. Some persons don’t much care for foreigners.’

  He looked at her. ‘Are you here illegally?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘not at all,’ although a faint tremble in her voice told him that it might not be true. ‘I have passport. You wish to see?’

  ‘No, I don’t wish to see. I’m not from immigration. It’s got nothing to do with me.’

  Agnes wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at him.

  Harry could see she was shivering, although whether it was from the cold or from fear he couldn’t really tell. Perhaps it was a combination of both. ‘You should go inside,’ he said, ‘before you catch your death.’

  ‘And wait for police to come?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘Did I say I was calling the police?’

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did she moved forward and flung her arms around his neck. He could feel her long fair hair brushing against his neck and smell the strong scent of her perfume. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you so much.’

  Enjoyable as her embrace was – it was a while since any woman had pressed her breasts quite so enthusiastically against him – Harry gently disentangled himself. ‘It would be useful if you could find some way of keeping your friend’s temper in check.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

  ‘And if you can help me sometime?’

  ‘Help you?’ she said, smiling. ‘Of course. Very much.’ Her eyes were sparkling now, filled with relief. She leaned over him again and kissed him full on the lips. Her mouth, incredibly soft, was sweet and moist. ‘You know where I am. I’m always here. Whatever you want—’

  ‘No!’ Harry said, suddenly aware of the bargain she was trying to make. ‘That’s not what I meant.’ He saw her face fall and paused, trying to think of a diplomatic way of explaining. He couldn’t claim he wasn’t tempted – what red-blooded man wouldn’t be? – but the persistent throbbing ache down the length of his shin was enough to distract him from any more lecherous feelings. ‘It’s not that I don’t like you,’ he said. ‘I do. You’re very …’ He cleared his throat. ‘Very attractive. But the only reason I’m here is because I’m looking for Al Webster. So if you know anything about him, about where he is …’

  She smiled again. ‘I wish but … I know nothing. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said.

  ‘But if I hear of him …’

  ‘I’d be grateful,’ Harry said. ‘That would be good.’

  ‘Good,’ she repeated softly, the word sounding more like a sultry invitation than any form of agreement. Swivelling on her high heels, she gave him one last lingering look before walking away. ‘Goodbye. I see you soon, I hope.’

  Harry knew that he’d just been seduced into letting Troy off the hook but he had ceased to care. The kid was a loose cannon and someone else, hopefully sooner rather than later, would finish off the job for him. Harry’s mind was preoccupied with watching her slim hips sashay seductively away from him.

  After she’d gone, he limped cautiously towards the Audi, crawled inside and pulled the door shut. Could he drive? He turned the key in the ignition, put his foot down and yelped in agony. A vicious shooting pain ran the length of his right leg. He waited a few seconds and then tried again. ‘Ah!’

  The damage was worse than he thought. He needed help.

  Harry reached for his phone and scrolled down through the menu. He tried the office first but only got the answering machine. For once Lorna had managed to get away before the clock struck seven. He tried Mac’s mobile but that was turned off too. Hell! Under normal circumstances, he’d have rung Val but with everything that had happened recently his pride recoiled at the very thought of it. He could imagine what Jane Anderson would say when she heard: That guy always comes running when he needs something.

  His finger kept on pressing, rolling through various friends and acquaintances – none of whom he’d been much in contact with recently – until he came to the end of the list. Jess Vaughan’s number stared up at him. Could he? No. No way. He was better off calling a cab than getting in touch with her again. But no sooner had he made that decision than he realized it would mean leaving the car here overnight and that in turn would mean that Troy, if he got his second wind, might be overly tempted to use that cute little baseball bat again.

  All things considered Jess seemed like the lesser of two evils.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The phone rang four times before she picked up. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Jess?’ He felt a momentary doubt but it was too late now to change his mind. ‘Hi, it’s Harry. Where are you?’

  ‘At home,’ she said.

  That was good. It would mean, if she agreed, that she could be here in less than fifteen minutes. ‘Are you sober?’

  She sounded incredulous. ‘What are you,’ she said, ‘the flaming drink police?’

  Harry raised his eyes towards the dark night sky. He might have known this wasn’t going to be easy. ‘Sorry, it’s just that I need a favour. I’m stuck in Shoreditch, at Vista.’ Before she could jump to any fanciful conclusions about what he’d been doing in a place renowned for its prostitutes and drugs, he quickly added: ‘I’ve had some trouble, nothing serious but I can’t drive. I was wondering if you could get a cab over here – I’ll pay for it, naturally – and then drive me and the car back to Kentish Town.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘Have you tried Yellow Pages? I think what you’re looking for is a chauffeur.’

  Harry pulled a face. After the way he’d walked away from her this morning, she had every right to tell him where to go. It was hardly as if she owed him any favours.

  ‘Would it help if I begged?’

  She gave a laugh, the kind that wasn’t entirely sympathetic. There was another worrying silence. Eventually, she expelled a short exasperated breath. ‘Where are you?’

  He gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks. In the car park, to the far left as you go in through the gates. Do you know how long you’ll be?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck,’ she said. ‘I’ll get there when I can.’

  While he was waiting, Harry shifted carefully over to the passenger seat. He rolled up his trouser leg and examined the damage; there’d be a mighty bruise by tomorrow but he didn’t think anything was broken. As regards the rest of his body, the damage was only superficial. There was an ache in his shoulder and his left eye, caught by what he liked to think of as a lucky punch, was starting to close. He peered in the mirror and wiped away the blood on his cheek.

  It was another twenty minutes before the taxi rolled in through the entrance. He watched as she paid off the cabbie and then, as she turned, flashed his lights. Jess walked over to the car, got in and stared at his f
ace.

  ‘Jeez,’ she said, screwing up her eyes. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘A brief encounter with an irate barman.’

  She grinned. ‘What did you do, insult his cocktails?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Harry smiled thinly back.

  ‘I take it you haven’t called the cops.’

  ‘It’s not that serious. And anyway, I know how it works, remember? I’ve got better things to do than spend half the night down the nick giving a statement.’ In fact, Agnes’s plea hadn’t been the only reason he wanted to avoid his former colleagues; he had no desire to explain what he was doing here or how he’d been stupid enough to be taken by surprise by some jumped-up little scrote.

  Jess gave him a quick sideways glance. ‘And here was me thinking that you always played by the rules.’

  ‘Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you thought.’

  She put out her hand. ‘You got the keys then?’ He passed them over and she jiggled them between her fingers for a moment, gazing at the dashboard.

  ‘You can drive, can’t you?’ Harry said anxiously.

  ‘No, I just thought I’d come over and play dodgems with your bright shiny Audi.’ She grinned again, put the key in the ignition and switched on the engine. ‘There’s no need to look so worried. I’m only savouring the delights of being behind the wheel again. My motor spent so much time in the garage I had to scrap it six months ago.’

  ‘And you haven’t got another because …?’

  Jess groaned out her reply. ‘Because junior reporters get paid a pittance in wages and I figured it was cheaper to use public transport than to fork out for yet another useless heap of junk that I could barely afford to keep on the road. Besides, the parking outside the flats is abysmal.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, bending down to rub his shin.

  She pulled the car out and headed towards the exit. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to take you to hospital?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  Jess glanced down towards his leg. ‘It’s not broken, is it?’

  No.’ He snatched his hand away, the abruptness of the action increasing the ache in his shoulder. As he leaned back, he noticed Agnes standing in the doorway to the club. Smiling, she took a step forward, raised a hand and waved at him.

  He smiled back.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ Jess said.

  ‘Her name’s Agnes – she’s a hostess here.’

  Jess lifted her brows. The woman was a stunning blonde with the face of an angel and a figure to die for. Dressed in something so short and flimsy that it barely existed, she must have been close to every heterosexual man’s dream. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘And are you on first name terms with all the girls at Vista?’

  Harry sighed, deliberately ignoring the implication. ‘You need to turn right here.’

  ‘It’s one way,’ she said. ‘Where else would I go?’

  She joined the traffic and took another right on to Great Eastern Street, then wound down the window and lit a cigarette. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ She glanced down towards his leg which he was surreptitiously rubbing again. ‘Maybe you should get that checked out by a doctor.’

  ‘I don’t need it checked out,’ Harry said. ‘If there’s one advantage to having a leg full of steel, it’s that it takes more than a jerk with a baseball bat to make a dent in it.’

  ‘A baseball bat,’ she said. ‘That must have been painful.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting it,’ he said.

  Jess heard the defensiveness in his voice. Sensing his discomfort, she was wickedly tempted to take advantage. ‘Who would be?’ Had the fight been something to do with the beautiful Agnes? She wouldn’t be surprised; it would hardly be the first time two men had made fools of themselves over a woman. She opened her mouth, about to pursue the subject, when her conscience got the better of her. She suddenly remembered what Len had told her, about how those two poor cops had been blown to oblivion and how Harry Lind had been lucky enough, if lucky was the word, to have walked in just behind them.

  ‘So how’s the case going?’ she said instead. ‘No sign of Mr Webster yet?’

  Harry frowned at her. ‘How did you know—’

  ‘You told me. The other night, when we went up West together. I believe it was around the third bottle of wine.’ Her mouth crept into a smile again. ‘You sure that bat didn’t catch you over the head?’

  Had he told her? Harry couldn’t recall but then he had been three sheets to the wind. And it didn’t really matter. Al’s disappearance was hardly the secret of the century. ‘I doubt he’s even in the country.’

  ‘Except he didn’t take his passport,’ Jess said. She smiled as she saw the expression on his face. ‘Yes, you mentioned that too. I have an amazing capacity to absorb and retain information even when I’m well and truly pissed.’

  ‘Quite a talent.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘So what were you doing at Vista?’

  ‘Wasting my time. But I’m pretty good at that.’

  ‘Join the club,’ she said.

  Harry nodded, and gave her a sideways glance. ‘And just in case you were wondering, I was there on business. I had to see Ray Stagg again.’

  ‘Of course,’ Jess said. ‘And how was the delightful Mr Stagg?’

  ‘Unhappy, drunk and not much in the mood for conversation.’

  ‘You don’t think he had anything to do with …’ Jess glanced towards his leg again.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Why should he?’

  ‘You tell me. First his brother-in-law goes missing, then his old mate Tommy Lake gets murdered and now one of his barmen is running riot with a baseball bat. I wouldn’t like to be too closely connected to him at the moment.’

  Harry shrugged, turned his face away and stared out of the window.

  They were approaching Kentish Town before he spoke again and then it was only to give directions. Jess let him guide her through the back streets. After she’d found a space and parked, he got out, held on to the door for a few seconds, and then limped slowly towards the house.

  Jess remained standing by the car. She stood back, not quite sure what she was supposed to do next. ‘Here,’ she said, holding out his keys.

  He glanced over his shoulder. ‘You’re coming inside, aren’t you? At least let me make you a coffee for your trouble.’

  Jess hesitated.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘And I can call you a cab to get home.’

  She could have called one herself – she had her mobile with her – but that would mean standing around in the cold until it finally arrived. And anyhow, she was curious enough to want to see where he lived.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  His flat was on the ground floor of an old terraced house. Jess followed him inside and looked around. It was bigger and far tidier than her own flat but devoid of anything in the way of character. Too neat and tidy perhaps. The living room was painted pure white and everything was in its place – the leather sofa, the matching leather chairs, the glass-topped coffee table, the upright contemporary lamps. It had a stark, almost sterile air to it. The only personal touch was a photograph on the mantelpiece. Jess stared at, examining the image of Harry and a beautiful female companion. She was one of those tall cool blondes, an elegant Grace Kelly type.

  ‘What does your girlfriend do?’ she asked.

  ‘Valerie’s a cop.’

  Jess nodded. ‘I bet the bad boys don’t put up too much resistance when she tries to arrest them.’

  Harry gave a thin smile.

  ‘So how come you didn’t ring her?’ she asked. ‘Couldn’t she have picked you up?’

  ‘She’s away for a few days.’ Hoping to change the subject as quickly as he could, he reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a tenner. ‘Hey, I still owe you for that cab.’

  ‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘I’ll claim it off expenses.’

  But he hobbled across the room and pushed the note into her hand. �
��Please. I insist. I wouldn’t like you to be accused of defrauding the Hackney Herald.’

  ‘God forbid,’ she said.

  ‘Sit down. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘You sit down,’ she said. ‘I think you’re more in need than me.’

  Jess could see the kitchen from where she was standing. Without further discussion she walked on through. This room, thankfully, wasn’t quite so impeccable. There were dishes in the sink and toast crumbs scattered over the counter. There was even an empty pizza box lying on the table. She had a suspicion that in the absence of the lovely Valerie, Harry was reverting to sloppier ways.

  She switched on the kettle and plucked a jar of instant coffee from one of the cupboards. ‘Milk and sugar?’ she called out.

  ‘Just milk.’

  While she was waiting for the kettle to boil, she stepped back into the doorway. ‘Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘That eye looks sore.’

  Harry automatically lifted a hand to it and flinched. ‘Skilled as they are, I don’t think doctors can do much for a black eye.’

  ‘What about the leg?’ she said.

  ‘What about my drink?’ he said.

  Jess knew when to take a hint. Smiling, she retreated to the kitchen. A couple of minutes later she emerged with two steaming mugs of coffee.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘And thanks for coming out too. I owe you one.’

  Jess curled up in one of the comfy leather armchairs. An idea had dawned on her. ‘Now, it’s funny you should mention that …’

  Harry peered over the rim of his mug. A low groan slid from his mouth. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to regret it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Because you have a naturally suspicious mind?’ She took a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t the best she’d ever tasted but at least it was hot. ‘It’s just that I was wondering … I mean, seeing as you’re probably not going to be able to drive for a day or two, if I could maybe borrow your car tomorrow.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask,’ she said, ‘only I need to go to Maidstone prison and it’s going to take me all day if I have to mess around with buses and trains.’