Copy Cap Murder (24 page)

It worked. He swallowed and blew out a breath and his voice was calmer when he spoke, “It's Quantum Calculations, it's an accounting firm.”

“Okay, can you lead me out of here?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

We passed the girl in the cubicle who was on the phone, and I paused to say, “Tell them that a killer is in the stairwell. His name is Tyler Carson.”

I heard the collective gasp emitted from the group. So they knew him. This could go badly for me.

“I have the proof that he killed Winthrop Dashavoy,” I said. “I must get it to the authorities, and I need your help.”

Adi looked at me then at the door. “Tyler Carson, one of the richest men in England, are you sure?”

“Positive,” I said. “He was afraid Win was planning to take over his company just like he'd taken his wife.”

There was a moment of silence while the room absorbed this information. Adi studied me closely and then nodded.

“All right then,” he said. He turned and looked at the people in the room. “I saw him, I saw him trying to catch her. Whatever you do, do not let him in.”

A buzz of conversation began, and two men came forward. They positioned themselves on either side of the door and crossed their arms.

I wanted to weep with relief. Maybe I was going to survive this after all.

“He'll be stuck in the stairwell unless he can get someone to let him out. The lower sixteen floors are a Swiss insurance company, so I don't know how lucky he'll get,” Adi said. “You can beat him by taking the elevator, but let's hide that hair of yours.”

Adi was taller than me by six inches and he was moving fast. I had to pump my wobbly legs to keep up. He snatched a hooded coat off a coatrack and tossed it to me.

“Put that on with the hood up,” he said.

He hit the elevator button while I put the larger coat on over my own. I pulled up the hood, covering my red hair.

“That should work,” he said. He adjusted the hood a bit before he was satisfied.

The elevator arrived with the pleasant
ping
of an electronic bell. It was empty. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He went to step inside with me, but I shook my head.

“No, stay here,” I said. “It's too dangerous.”

The doors started to close.

“But—” he began to argue but I cut him off.

“I'll return your coat,” I said.

He looked like he was going to jump in with me, but the doors shut. I felt both relieved and disappointed. The coward in me would have liked the company but I couldn't bear it if he was harmed because of me.

The elevator glided down the floors. I remembered that Mim had been very excited about the Gherkin, which was completed a few years before she died. She loved that it was the tenth tallest building in the city, and that its elevators moved at a clip of six meters per second. I couldn't
believe these ridiculous thoughts were flitting through my mind, then again, anything to keep the panic at bay.

I glanced up. Surely I should have reached the lobby by now. It felt as if the elevator were crawling. I wondered if Carson had managed to sneak out of the stairwell. Would he be waiting for me? The elevator stopped on the eleventh floor. Three people got on. No one even glanced at me as they stayed on the other side of the compartment, chatting about the upcoming weather forecast for the weekend.

At first, I was annoyed. Why are you stopping my getaway elevator and then talking about inanities? But then I realized that they would make an excellent cover for me to hide behind when we reached the lobby.

When the car stopped, I gestured for them to go first and then I followed, sticking close to their heels as if I were a part of their group.

It worked for about ten steps, but as we came around the corner of the elevator bank, a hand grabbed my arm, stopping me.

I balled my right hand into a fist. If it was Tyler, I was going to drop him with a sucker punch. Okay, I was talking myself up, since the only thing I'd ever punched was a pillow.

“Ginger, what are you doing here? What was that message about? Hey, whoa!”

Luckily, Harrison ducked just before my fist would have connected with his nose. I put so much weight behind it, it spun me around, pushing the hood off my hair while I fought to keep my balance. He caught me about the waist and then frowned.

“Whose coat is this? It's enormous on you,” he said.

“Harrison!” I cried. I hugged him hard and fast and then started running for the door. “No time!”

The front of the Gherkin has two massive revolving glass doors. I hit the one on the right with Harrison jumping right in behind me. As it began to turn, I saw Inspector Franks coming in the other. We saw each other at the same time, and in a nanosecond, I knew it was true. Everything Tyler Carson had told me about the inspector was true.

“Ginger, what is going on?” Harrison asked.

I looked at him in panic. Then I started trying to push the door to go faster.

“Franks is bad,” I said. “He's a bad cop! Carson murdered Win, I have the proof, Reese might be dead, and we have to get the hell out of here!”

Harrison stared at me and then saw Franks. He didn't hesitate but shoved the door with all his strength. As soon as the sweet rush of November air hit us, he grabbed my hand and we bolted. We were running flat out, past businessmen and women in suits and shiny shoes, racing down St Mary Axe toward Leadenhall Street.

I looked over my shoulder once and saw Inspector Franks with two constables running beside him. They were gaining on us.

“Where are we going?” I shouted at Harrison.

“Aldgate,” he said. He glanced back. “If we make it. Run, Ginger, run!”

We didn't make it. A black sedan hopped the curb and screeched to a halt in front of us. The passenger door was shoved open and I glanced inside to see Inspector Simms looking at us.

“Get in!” he cried.

Harrison looked at me and I shrugged. Could we trust Simms? I had no idea.

“I know about Franks. I know he's—” Simms stopped talking as if he couldn't bear to say it out loud. He looked angry and sad at the same time.

It was a leap of faith but just because Franks had let me down didn't mean Simms would, too. There was no place else to go and Franks was almost upon us.

I climbed into the front seat and Harrison took the back. I had barely shut the door and was just reaching for the
seat belt when Simms hit the gas. We shot out onto the street, narrowly missing a couple of pedestrians.

“Slow down, man, you're going to get us killed,” Harrison said.

“I can't. The two PCs with Franks left their cars out front. They'll be on us in seconds,” Simms said.

I glanced out the rear window, and sure enough, Franks and his two henchmen were running for their cars.

“What about Tyler Carson?” I asked. “I left him in the stairwell.”

“Franks's men got him out before we could nab him,” Simms said. “This is why I need to get you to safety.”

“How did you know where I was?” I asked.

“Reese Evers called me and told me everything,” he said.

“Is she all right?” I asked.

“Carson tied her up, but he must have been in a hurry, because she got free and called us,” Simms said. “She has a nasty head injury, but she'll be okay. Luckily, I was on duty and not Franks and took the call.”

“I'm trying to keep up, really I am,” Harrison said. “But I'm lost. Could someone please tell me what the bloody hell is happening?”

Simms gestured for me to do it.

I turned in my seat so I was facing Simms and could see Harrison. Then I started with the memory of Win not wearing a tie, my time with Reese, and ended with Tyler's confession on the stairwell. Both men were silent, not asking questions, just listening.

When I got to the part about Franks, they both looked pained. “And that's when I ran into you,” I said to Harry and
then turned to Simms and added, “And then you appeared. I don't think I'm overstating that you saved our lives.”

Simms nodded. “I've been tailing Franks. Him coming back from York the way he did just felt . . . wrong.”

“I can't believe it,” Harrison said. “I liked him, really liked him.”

“There might still be an explanation,” I said. “Maybe he's deep undercover, trying to out Carson.”

Simms shook his head. “I'd have known if he was.”

The traffic slowed to a crawl and I saw Harrison look out the back window as if he expected Carson or Franks to rise up in the window like Godzilla or King Kong.

“I think we're safe now,” I said. “They can't catch us and I still have the invoice, plus I sent you and Viv copies of it.”

“You sent one to Viv?” Harrison asked. He scrambled with his phone, pressed the front of it and held it to his ear. He checked the time on his wristwatch and then made eye contact with Simms in the rearview mirror.

“She's not answering,” he said.

“That's it then,” Simms said. He fired up the siren on the car, forcing the traffic out of our way.

“What is it?” I asked. “What's going on?”

They exchanged a glance as if trying to figure out what to say, infuriating, and then Harry said, “Viv isn't answering the shop phone. She should be open for business by now.”

“Oh, god, Viv!” I cried. “She's in danger, isn't she? Just because I sent that stupid text.”

“I seriously doubt they're after her for that,” Harrison said. “There's no way for them to know about it, but they do know that Viv is important to you, so—”

Hysteria bubbled up in me like a geyser, only the stuff that came out was a flood of tears, snot and a whole lot of panic.

I looked at Simms and yelled, “Step on it!”

As soon as the car in front of us moved over, he floored it, zipping through the traffic in a way that would have made me vomit if I hadn't been singularly focused on getting to Viv.

The dash through London was a start-and-stop affair as we alternately crawled and raced, paused and pushed, shoving our little car to the max as we darted around corners and forced our way to Notting Hill and Portobello Road.

My heart was in my throat as Simms drove by the shop and parked three buildings down at the curb across the street. A sick feeling twisted in my gut as I noted that the window shades were still drawn as if the shop had never opened. I glanced back at Harrison and he had the same tight look on his face.

I went to open the door and Simms held me back.

“Wait,” he said.

“But she could be in trouble,” I argued.

“And if you go racing in there, it could get worse,” he said.

I stared at him. Did I trust him to have the knowledge and experience to get my cousin to safety? He had just discovered that his mentor and partner was bad. Could he do this?

He must have read my doubts because his gaze was steady and he said, “Trust me.”

I nodded. “What do we do?”

“We're going to park here,” he said. “Then we're going to
get out of the car and walk across the street as if we're headed to the pub. Then we'll slip into the alley and work our way to the back of the shop, where you can let us in, right?”

“Right,” I said. I wanted to run, I wanted to hurry, but Simms was very clear that if anyone was watching we had to look like regular neighborhood folks going about their business. I put the hood up on my borrowed jacket so that my hair didn't draw any attention.

“On three?” Harrison asked. “One, two, three.”

We all popped out of the car and I noticed that both men turned their collars up and hunkered down into their coats. I didn't know if it was from the cold or to hide their faces. I didn't much care. I just wanted to get to Viv.

We crossed the street with a chilly November wind at our backs. I felt like it was urging us to hurry, which unsettled me even more.

We passed the pub and circled around the large brick building into the alley in back. It appeared empty; only one garage door was open but no one was there. We moved past several more buildings until we reached the back gate of our small patio garden.

Viv's bird feeders brought in flocks of birds and when we arrived they all scattered with some indignant chirps and mad flapping of wings. I swear the ingrates waited for her in the morning and they started singing about breakfast an hour before she woke up. A glance over the wall and it looked as if she hadn't even been out there today.

I reached up to unlatch the gate and lead the way in, but Harrison stopped me.

“Let me go first,” he said. I started to argue but he held up his hand. “It makes sense that I'm here as the business
manager. If there's a problem, I can bluff that I'm just here to do the books.”

“He's right,” Simms said. “If you go in and Carson is already here, he'll have no reason to keep either of you alive.”

“Except he doesn't know that you have the invoice now,” I said. “When I tell him that—”

“He really won't have a reason to let you live,” Harrison said.

Shivers rippled down my spine. Still, I felt like I should be the one to go in and save Viv. She was my cousin and I had gotten her into this mess.

“At least connect your phone to mine so we have an idea of what is going on,” I said.

Simms nodded and Harrison called my cell phone and I answered it, leaving the phones connected so we could eavesdrop on him while he went into the house. Harrison put his phone in his front pocket, out of sight but easily able to pick up sound.

He reached over and squeezed my hand before he unlatched the gate and entered the patio. I was too short to see over the back wall and Simms stayed hunkered down so he wouldn't be seen. The only way we could tell what was happening was if Harrison told us on his way inside. It was maddening.

I heard him unlatch the back door. He didn't call out a greeting, which told me Viv and Fee weren't in the workroom in the back. My heart sank into my feet. This was bad, really bad.

Simms was listening intently to my phone. I wondered if his training taught him to listen for other sounds, and if so, was he hearing good noise or bad?

I wanted to ask him, but I didn't want to miss any sounds coming from my phone by talking over them. A tense few minutes, okay probably seconds, passed with no noise. I checked my phone to see if it was working. Our phones were still connected.

I bounced on the balls of my feet trying to channel my anxiety. What was taking so long? Why wasn't Harrison saying anything?

Thud! Oomph!
Then I heard a low voice say, “Run.”

The sounds that came out of my phone weren't voices. It sounded like someone just got clobbered and let out a groan. I didn't think, I acted. My hand shot up and unlatched the gate and I was pushing my way into the garden. Simms grabbed my arm, but I ripped myself free.

“Scarlett, you have no idea what's going on in there,” he whispered.

“I know, but that's my cousin and my future boyfriend in there,” I hissed. “I have to go.”

He stared into my eyes, which were probably looking a bit deranged. Then he held out his hand and said, “Give me the phone.”

I slapped it into his hand and shut the gate. He caught it before it slammed but I really didn't care who heard me coming. These were my people and this was my place and I would do anything to protect them both.