Strong Women Read online

  Jo was starting to despair. ‘For God’s sake, all I’m trying to do is make some sense of all this. I don’t know Delaney or Naylor or Silver … or even Susan come to that. I’m working in the dark and you’re not doing much to enlighten me.’

  A few seconds passed before he slowly looked up again. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He raked his fingers through his hair, shook his head and groaned. ‘I just can’t believe this has happened.’

  ‘Join the club,’ she said.

  There was a short silence.

  Miller was the first to speak again. He sounded tired, exhausted, as if everything was finally catching up with him. ‘Susan might have paid him for a one-off, used him to get Silver out of the hotel, but that’s all. He’s not the connection to Delaney. Ritchie couldn’t have known where she was.’

  ‘Unless Silver called him. She’s got a phone, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Not one with any credit,’ he said. ‘That ran out weeks ago.’

  ‘She could have called from the hotel room, when you were down in the bar.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘she could but I don’t think she did. Anyway, this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was planned. Susan was talking to you last night, persuading you to help her out. Why would she have been doing that if she didn’t already know that I’d found Silver? She must have heard that we were heading back and that we were booked into the Lumière – and the only other person who knew that was Delaney.’

  ‘So who did he tell?’

  ‘If I had the answer to that,’ Miller said, ‘we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marty Gull waited impatiently by the entrance. He peered out at the camera and beeped his horn. There was another delay before the gates slowly swept aside. He swore under his breath, put his foot down and sped along the drive.

  Pulling the Saab into the space beside Delaney’s Jag, he cut the engine and gazed through the windscreen. The house was one of those large Tudor-type constructions, all black and white stripes and mullioned windows. To his left, beyond a low brick wall, were a landscaped garden, a tennis court and an outdoor heated pool. Not much change from three million he reckoned. Chigwell wouldn’t have been his first choice when choosing a home – he was more of a city centre man himself – but he supposed, when the time came, that he’d get used to it.

  Marty got out of the car. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, every window ablaze, two thousand watts spilling out across the gravel. So much for saving the environment. Delaney’s only contribution to a greener world came with the switching off of other people’s lights.

  He walked to the glossy black door and glared at it. It still pissed him off that he was obliged to knock before he was allowed in, that he had to use that ridiculous brass lion’s head. It made him feel like a delivery boy. This was the first time in years that he hadn’t been given a key. Nina had seen to that.

  He rapped twice and stepped back.

  The skinny foreign woman who answered stared at him like she always did – as if she’d never seen him before. ‘Yes?’ she enquired solemnly. She was an ugly bint in her late thirties. Her face was narrow, as pointed as a fox’s, and she had bad skin. She was dressed in a ridiculous uniform, a black dress with a white apron and a little white cap on her head. No doubt another of Nina’s brilliant ideas.

  ‘I’m expected,’ Marty said, pushing past her into the hall. He strode through to the living room, took off his jacket and threw it across the back of a chair.

  ‘Excuse,’ the maid said, trotting in behind. ‘I have not told … you cannot … I must—’

  ‘It’s all right, Louisa,’ Nina said.

  She was stretched out on a plush gold sofa, her upper half propped up by two matching velvet cushions. At first sight, with her pale oval face, dark hair and wide brown eyes she reminded Marty of a fragile but beautiful invalid, like a woman he had seen in a picture long ago. It was an impression that rapidly faded. She was actually in the process of painting her nails.

  Louisa stood her ground. ‘But Mr Delaney, he say I should always—’

  ‘Yes, don’t worry about that now. You can go. Just be a dear and pop upstairs. Tell him that Mr Gull has arrived.’

  Louisa hesitated, her hands dancing in mid-air, her thin body shifting anxiously from one foot to another.

  ‘Upstairs,’ Nina urged, pointing towards the ceiling with a scarlet talon. She raised her voice as if an extra few decibels might help overcome the language barrier. ‘Go upstairs and tell Mr Delaney that—’

  Finally getting the gist, Louisa nodded her head and retreated. She closed the door behind her.

  ‘Jesus,’ Nina sighed. ‘Where does he get them? A goddamn monkey would be more useful.’

  Marty grinned. ‘A monkey wouldn’t wash your filthy sheets or make your breakfast in the morning.’ Walking past her, he went over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a brandy. Delaney always liked the help to speak minimal English, enough to understand basic domestic orders but not enough to comprehend any of his more iffy conversations. ‘You want one?’ he said, lifting the bottle.

  ‘You haven’t even asked how I am.’

  ‘Sorry, babe,’ he said, returning to lean over her. He kissed her mouth while his hands slid down around her breasts. She had a good pair of tits although their size was more down to the skill of the surgeon than to anything nature had provided. ‘How is the sweetest bitch in Chigwell?’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said, twisting her face and slapping him away. ‘What the fuck are you doing? Vic could be down any minute.’

  ‘Vic doesn’t get anywhere in a minute. He’s too bloody fat.’

  She giggled. ‘Get me that drink,’ she said. ‘I need it. You have no idea of the grief he’s put me through tonight. That demented daughter of his has a lot to answer for.’

  ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘How do you think,’ she said, glancing up again at the ceiling.

  He looked up too. ‘Has Miller rung?’

  ‘A while ago.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he mentioned where he was.’

  Nina made a soft sarcastic noise in the back of her throat. ‘Oh sure. He sent through a map. You want me to get it for you?’

  ‘Have I ever told you what a cow you are?’

  She smirked. ‘Love you too, sweetheart. I’ll have a Baileys if it isn’t too much trouble. Two cubes of ice.’

  Marty straightened up and walked back to the cabinet. Nina Delaney thought she was someone but she wasn’t. She was just a tart, a pea-brained greedy bimbo who had managed to get lucky. She thought she was in charge, in control, but he knew better. The only game that was being played out here was his. He made the drink, took it over and gave it to her.

  ‘Ta,’ she said.

  He sat down with his brandy and gazed around. Never had so much been spent on so little. Some of the furnishings were old, some new, but none of them blended together. The room was a shocking combination of conflicting styles and colours. It was a prime example of why women with no taste should always be refused credit.

  ‘What’s eating you?’ Nina said. ‘You’re not really taking this ransom thing seriously are you?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, examining her nails. ‘It’s just another of Silver’s sick games. She’ll do anything to get Daddy running round in circles. Vic’s such a sucker. What’s the betting that she’s shacked up with that creep of a boyfriend. She’ll be hiding out in some dingy flat, smoking dope and laughing her stupid socks off.’

  ‘Your tender responses never fail to amaze me.’

  Nina stretched her arms above her head, opened her mouth and yawned. ‘You try living with her and see how tender you feel by the end of a week.’

  He was about to reply when Delaney burst through the door. ‘Where the fuck have you been?’

  Marty got to his feet. It was more through habit than respect, a knee-jerk reaction. ‘
Sorry, Vic. The traffic’s bad. I got here as fast as I could.’

  ‘I don’t care about the fuckin’ traffic. My daughter’s missing. You want to explain why Miller is still out there?’

  ‘He did a runner, gave Parry and Devlin the slip. He must have realised we were on to him. I’ve been working on it; I’m trying to track him down.’

  Delaney’s small mean eyes glared out from between the folds of flesh. ‘Yeah,’ he snarled, ‘and that’s been exactly how successful?’

  ‘I’ve put the word out. I’ve got the boys watching his flat and checking out his regular haunts. I’ve got all the bases covered. He can’t go to ground for ever. He’ll surface soon and then we’ll have him.’

  ‘You should never have lost the bastard in the first place.’

  Marty nodded, looking suitably chastised. He had long since learned to take the path of least resistance. Once it had been down to necessity, to self-preservation, but now it was more to do with expedience. A little grovelling, a little patience, was a small price to pay for keeping the peace. It was nineteen years since they’d first met, when they were both doing a stretch inside. Delaney had been a vicious bastard with an appealing streak of sadism. They had hit it off instantly.

  Delaney was drunk and unsteady on his feet. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ he said. ‘What are you staring at? You screwed up. You all screwed up. You make me fuckin’ sick.’

  Marty felt sick too. It disgusted him to even look at Vic now. The man had always been solid, thickset, but the years of good living had taken their toll: the muscle had turned to fat and he was grossly overweight. A pendulous belly drooped down over his belt, his chin had multiplied and a welter of tiny red veins mapped a path across his sallow cheeks. His nose was puce, bulbous, and a few greasy strands of grey were all that remained of his once pale brown hair.

  Delaney pushed his fat face into Marty’s and breathed out his stale whisky breath. ‘Miller swears he had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Yeah? Well he would, wouldn’t he? He’s taking the piss. Who else could have known where Silver was tonight?’

  ‘Perhaps Miller’s telling the truth,’ Nina piped up.

  They both turned to look at her.

  She shrugged and rolled her eyes. ‘Jeez, I’m only making a suggestion. You know what she’s like. She could have planned all this herself.’

  ‘Haven’t you got something to do?’ Delaney said. ‘I’m trying to have a conversation here.’

  ‘Well, pardon me for speaking,’ she said, getting up. She slipped her bare feet into her high heels. ‘I’ll leave you two to chat in private.’

  She smiled at Marty as she passed. He watched her backside as it wriggled out of the room. She had her charms, he couldn’t deny it, but they were of the purely superficial variety. She was good but not that good. Delaney’s wives came and went and this one, he reckoned, would be history by Christmas.

  Vic slumped down on the sofa. ‘Devlin said Miller got in a cab, that he had a girl with him.’

  ‘Yeah, just a tart that he picked up in the bar. She’s not important. He probably dumped her down the road.’

  ‘What if she calls the filth, if they start sniffing around? If anything happens to Silver—’

  ‘It won’t,’ Marty said, sitting down beside him.

  Vic placed his white clammy palm on his thigh. His voice was full of menace. ‘You’d better be right.’

  Marty narrowed his eyes. ‘Miller’s not stupid. He won’t have told her anything. Why should he?’ In truth, the girl was rapidly becoming a priority. She was the only lead he had to Miller, to where he may be hiding now. He couldn’t afford to have him on the loose, poking his nose into things that didn’t concern him, maybe even trying to track down Naylor. It was Susan who’d arranged the set-up with the blonde. He had tried to get a name, an address out of her but she’d refused to spill. Leave her alone, she’s got nothing to do with this.

  ‘I want my girl found.’ Delaney’s fingers moved up towards Marty’s groin, tightened, and dug into his flesh.

  Marty flinched, a gasp escaping from his lips. ‘Your little girl’s all I’m thinking about, Vic.’ He took a breath. ‘I’ll find her. I’ll bring her home. I swear I will.’

  Delaney prolonged his agonising grasp for a few more seconds before his hold gradually relaxed. His eyes turned faintly tearful and his voice softened into some semblance of affection. ‘Yeah, you’re a good boy, Marty. I know you won’t let me down.’

  Marty, still feeling the pain, forced a smile. Nineteen years he’d been at his master’s beck and call. It was time for a change. He was due a reward, some payback for all that loyalty and dedication. And just as Delaney had once possessed him, had made him so utterly and completely his own, he would shortly do the same with Silver.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was well past midnight and Susan was looking through the grille again. She couldn’t help herself. Every time she went upstairs, she turned right around and came back down. She worried that the girl might wake up, might get sick. That stuff Naylor had given her could wear off at any moment.

  Silver, however, was still unconscious. Susan watched as the girl’s small chest slowly rose and fell. Was she warm enough? She was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans. She was partially covered by a blanket but the air in the cellar felt damp and cool. In the dim light she looked even younger than she actually was, closer to twelve than fourteen. Her eyelids flickered as she slept her dreamless sleep.

  Susan’s gaze slid along the blanket towards the motionless hand. Silver’s wrist was manacled, cuffed securely and attached by a long steel chain to a ring set into the wall beside the mattress. The chain was long enough for her to move around, to walk across the room and reach the toilet and the old wash basin with its rusted taps. Susan had left out loo paper, soap, towels, a toothbrush, toothpaste and a bottle of drinking water; it wasn’t quite the luxury a princess was used to but it would have to do.

  She wondered what it was like to be Silver Delaney, to grow up with everything you wanted, to never have to go without. She imagined the clothes she must possess, the fancy shoes and the flashy jewellery. Susan had been raised on a council estate, a crumbling filthy slum full of dealers, pimps and spaced-out junkies. It was a place she never intended to go back to.

  She gazed at Silver and sighed. Some people didn’t know how lucky they were. The kid had no mother, of course, but Susan didn’t lay much store by mothers; they were, in her opinion, completely overrated. Her own excuse for a parent, a gutless, disappointed, downtrodden woman, was an utter waste of space.

  She stood back, glanced at the steps and squatted down on the cold concrete floor. This way she would hear if Silver moved or called out. Her vigil had more to do with protecting her investment than with anything more solicitous. If she felt any emotion for the girl it was only a faint curiosity. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have much cared if she lived or died but this was altogether different. The kid was a cash cow, true enough, but she mattered for another reason too.

  It was a reason Susan didn’t want to think about right now.

  She shifted into a more comfortable position and frowned. Bastards like Delaney didn’t deserve to have kids. And half a million, all things considered, wasn’t much to get a beloved daughter back. With his bulging bank account, he’d barely notice the withdrawal. It was just a shame she’d had to link up with Marty Gull in order to get what she wanted. He was a liability, a twisted arrogant fuck-up of a man. And he’d messed up big time over Miller. Had Marty been doing his job properly, he’d never have allowed him to get away. And if he hadn’t got away Jo wouldn’t have ended up in the cab with him. She hoped that wasn’t going to be a major complication.

  ‘No,’ she murmured, shaking her head. She smiled and leaned back against the wall.

  There were no real worries on that score. She had done all the groundwork, portraying Gabe Miller as a first-rate liar, a blackmailer, the lowest of the low. Even if Jo
was forced into listening to him, she wouldn’t believe a word he said. And she certainly wouldn’t have taken him back to where she lived. That flat of hers was sacrosanct, an altar to the memory of her dead husband. The only men who ever crossed the threshold were the ones who came to read the meter.

  Susan stretched out her legs and kicked off her shoes. It had amused her, making friends with Jo Strong. She had never done the whole girly thing before, spending long evenings in another woman’s company, drinking wine and sharing ‘confidences’. It had been an interesting experience. She had felt almost normal for a while. But a while, she reflected, was more than enough. Normal was ordinary, commonplace and she could never be that.

  Her thoughts returned to Gabe. If it had all gone to plan he’d be out of the way by now. But it hadn’t and he wasn’t. He was still out there somewhere, a threat to everything she had planned.

  Susan got to her feet and looked through the grille again. She had to stop stressing. Whatever else might have gone wrong, no matter how badly the cards had fallen, she still had the ace lying right in front of her.

  ‘Don’t worry, baby,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to take good care of you.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was twenty past eight when Jo’s eyes flickered open. Squinting at the alarm clock, she was aware that her head was throbbing. It took a few blurry seconds before she remembered what had happened the night before. She sat bolt upright and listened.

  There was no sound from the living room.

  He must still be asleep. It had been after two before she’d got to bed, before he’d drained her brain of everything and anything Susan Clark had ever said to her. Jo rubbed at her temples. She had drunk too much whiskey and her mouth felt stale and dry. She shouldn’t have let him stay but then again, what choice had she had? Kicking him out in the early hours had hardly been an option. He wouldn’t have left, she thought, even if she’d asked him to. Gabe Miller was a law unto himself. Scrunching the duvet around her, she sank her face into its folds and groaned.