Page 64 of Return Ticket

If he did what he was thinking of doing, he would be exposing Whetford. Possibly to deadly retaliation.

There was no other reason to bury the case, ensure it went cold, other than he’d taken a bribe, or gotten some favor from the killer. If the case was dug back up, like James was considering doing now, whatever deal Whetford had made was done. Finished.

He turned over the implications. If Whetford had used this murder to put a gangland killer in his debt, if he’d let them get away with the death of a rival in order to profit from it, then did James really care what the fall-out was?

As he climbed the stairs, he decided the answer to that question was no.

chaptertwenty-five

Gabriella stoppedat the grocer’s on her way home, buying ingredients for a nice dinner. She didn’t want to call James at the Yard, she didn’t feel comfortable doing that, so she made a meal for two, knowing he might not come by.

If he didn’t, she wouldn’t have to cook tomorrow night, which was fine, too.

But when at six there was a knock at her door, she smiled as she walked over and opened it.

“Hello, again.” The man from earlier, the one driving the black Mercedes, shoved her inside, locking the door behind him and putting the key in his pocket.

Gabriella backed away, adrenalin prickling under her skin at going from happy anticipation to cold fear. She edged around the table she had set for two, and saw the man’s glance land on the place settings.

“You’re expecting someone.” He looked over at the tiny kitchen, and gave a sniff. “Smells good.”

“They’re due at six,” she said, her voice wobbling a little. “That’s why I opened the door so quickly.”

He looked down at his watch. Grunted. “Then we’ll make this quick. I don’t like being messed around, so trust me when I say I have no patience for any more of your nonsense.”

“Mynonsense?” The fear gave way to outrage for a moment.

He stared at her. “You’re mouthy. I’m sure you’ve been told that before. Let’s just get through this, shall we?” He walked closer and placed his hands on the table, leaned over it. “Just tell me what house he came out of. That’s all. No mess, no fuss.”

“Why do you think you’re entitled to shove your way into my home and question me like this?” Gabriella was breathing fast, her chest tight, but she wanted to make sense of it.

“My business is looking up right now, love. The client that wants this information is my ticket to bigger things.” Mr. Mercedes clicked his tongue impatiently. “Now, which house?”

“You know the road I fined him on,” she said. “It would have been on the ticket.”

“Sorry, that won’t do. It’s is a long street. Too many houses and flats to investigate them all.” He narrowed his eyes, like she was testing him.

She felt her fear spike, her chest tighten. Because she couldn’t remember. She really couldn’t.

“I had my back turned to him. It was near the end of the road, just a few hundred yards from where it ends in a t-junction. He shouted at me from behind, and I turned, but I honestly don’t know which house he came out of.” She lifted both hands. She saw they were both shaking.

He hesitated. She knew the story sounded reasonable. It was almost the truth. She actually had noticed him coming down the path of a white Georgian townhouse, although she had no idea of the number, or could even point to the exact one, as there had been several in a row. She wasn’t about to send this thug to the wrong person’s door, that’s for sure.

“How far was he from you when you noticed him?” he asked.

“He was close enough that I heard him shouting, far enough that I couldn’t make out what he was saying,” she said.

He pulled out a London A-Z from his coat pocket, and she could see there was a bookmark sticking out of it. He flipped to the page, and turned the book to face her, setting it down on the table and jabbing a finger at the spot. “Give me the general area.”

She didn’t want to get closer, because he would be able to grab her, but she leaned forward a little. Hesitated.

“Show me, or I will become very unpleasant,” the man said. He glanced at his watch, and Gabriella flicked her own gaze to the old wall clock hanging in the kitchen.

Amazingly, only five minutes had passed.

A knock sounded at the door, light and friendly.

They both froze. Her eyes snapped to his face, but he was staring at the door. The knock came again, at the same time that she moved, edging around the table, and he panicked.

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