NO KISS FOR THE DEVIL (Gavin & Palmer 5) (32 page)

The driver
stopped sideways on and close to the main doors of the building, just as all
the lights on the ground floor went out. Apart from the faint wash of light
from other buildings and passing traffic, it left the area around the entrance
in near-darkness.

 Szulu inched
forward for a better view. ‘They went in after me and Palmer did our bit,’ he
explained. ‘I don’t know who they are, but they’re on the same side as us.’ He
looked around, ‘Must be something nasty about to happen.’

‘What makes you
say that?’ said Riley.

He pointed to a
nearby street light, which was out. ‘They’ve disabled the lights. They were
working earlier. How would they do that?’

‘Maybe they
shot them out.’

Szulu scowled
at her. ‘You obsessed with guns, lady,’ he warned her. ‘You need to talk to
somebody about that.’

Riley hissed a
warning as a tall, slim figure stepped out of the main door towards the van and
opened the nearest side door, moving briefly through the wash of the van’s
brake lights. She couldn’t see his face, but she recognised something about the
way he carried himself. It was Koenig, Al-Bashir’s security man.

‘Stay here,’
Szulu said. ‘I’m just going for a closer look.’

‘No way – I’m
coming, too.’ Riley hustled after him, and they made their way across the road
and skipped over the low wall into one corner of the car park. As they settled
down to watch, two men moved quickly out of the entrance carrying something
between them. They dumped the object in the van and went back inside. They came
back with another load, then another.

On the fourth
trip, as they moved through the lobby area, the driver, who had stepped out of
the van, jumped back in and touched the brake lights. The glow was enough for
Riley and Szulu to see that the load they were carrying was a man’s body, with
one arm hanging down.

Riley felt the
hairs move on the back of her neck.  ‘What are they going to do with them?’ she
whispered.

‘They clearin’
up the mess,’ Szulu replied knowingly. ‘No bodies, no proof.’ He sounded
worried, though, and Riley caught the tension in his voice.

‘What’s up?’

Szulu shook his
head slowly, the dreadlocks skimming against Riley’s face. ‘That’s four down.’

‘So?’

‘I counted
five. At the hotel and here. There’s one missing.’

‘Are you sure?’
She remembered the body she’d seen at the rear of the lobby. That must have
been one of the four they had just carried out.

‘Definite.
There was a short one, like this monster body-builder.’

‘His name’s
Pechov. Palmer took care of him.’

‘Yeah? Cool.
Then there was two taller guys, and a big dude in some fancy threads. I think
he was the boss.’

Vasiliyev.
Riley didn’t say anything.

‘And there was
a little guy with a bald head,’ Szulu continued. ‘I ain’t seen no bald head
yet.’

‘Or Frank
Palmer.’ Riley felt sick. Wherever Palmer was, she had to believe he was still
inside and safe. Palmer wouldn’t give up easily. The always laid back, often
irritating but mostly sweet former military cop just wouldn’t let himself be
overcome like that. He was indestructible.

The men ducked
back inside the building, leaving the driver in the van, watching the car park
and the street. For one moment, it seemed as if he was staring right at them.

Szulu gave a
soft hiss and froze, his hand gripping Riley’s arm in warning.

‘What’s
wrong?’  Riley whispered. ‘I thought you said they were the good guys.’

‘I did. But
that don’t mean they’d be stoked with anyone seeing them movin’ a bunch of dead
bodies around, does it?’

There was a
movement at the entrance, and the other men re-appeared. This time, they had a
figure sandwiched between them. He was on his feet, but seemed reluctant to go
with them. For the last couple of yards, the men picked him up and carried him.
They pushed him inside and closed the door.

Seconds later,
they were gone, leaving just a wisp of exhaust smoke hanging in the air.

Riley and Szulu
waited, both thinking the worst.

Then, from
behind them, Frank Palmer’s voice drifted out of the dark. ‘Are you two girls
staying here all night? Only I’m gagging for a pizza.’

*******

Three
days later, with the pain from her burns slowly receding, Riley held a planning
meeting with Mr Grobowski.

 The surgery
had called to say that there was a problem with the cat: he was howling so
loudly, he was keeping the other resident animals awake. They would consider an
early release, but on condition that someone would be able to look after him
and change his dressings.

‘Is not a
problems, Miss Riley,’ the elderly Pole boomed eagerly when she told him. ‘You
bring him homes and I be his nurses for as long as it takes.’ He paused
uncertainly. ‘Is okay with you, of course?’

‘Of course it
is, Mr G. You know Lipinski – he’s a free agent. If it hadn’t been for your
magic meatballs, he’d never have survived.’

‘Sure, I
knowing that.’ He smiled shyly and rubbed at his craggy face. ‘You are very
kind persons, Miss Riley. We are like little family, I think.’ He rushed away
downstairs, suddenly overcome by emotion and muttering about having to cook more
meatballs.

He passed Palmer
and Szulu on the way. The two men had come in response to Riley’s offer of
lunch at the Belvedere in Holland Park, as a thank you for their help.

‘You know, I
never got into this sort of trouble before I met you two,’ said Szulu, slumping
onto the sofa. It had been a recurring theme ever since they had left Palatine
House. ‘Mind you, I never got taken to no fancy restaurants, neither.’ He
grinned. ‘I am so gonna give the menu a pastin’ man, I warn you.’

‘Suits me,’
said Riley approvingly. ‘You deserve it.’

Palmer nodded
in agreement. ‘I second that. But,’ he gave Szulu a stern look, ‘you haven’t
mentioned any of what you saw to your girlfriends, have you? We’ve got too much
to lose.’

‘Hey, man –
what you take me for?’ Szulu looked hurt. ‘I ain’t no blabbermouth. I’m a
professional - I know when to keep it zipped.’

Before Palmer
could say more, there was a knock on the door. Riley opened it.

It was DI Craig
Pell. He was alone.

‘I’ve been
trying to get hold of you,’ he said sternly. His eyes flicked past her shoulder
and fixed on Palmer and Szulu.

‘I’m sorry,’
Riley replied, ushering him in. ‘I’ve been between the hospital and the vet’s
surgery. Neither of them like people using their mobiles.’ She smiled sweetly,
daring him to call her a liar. ‘Would you like some tea?’

‘No, thanks.’
His eyes widened when he noticed the reddened skin on her neck and lower jaw.

Riley nudged
him along, to stop him asking questions. ‘Was there something else?’

‘Uh, yes,
actually. I got a report that there was a shooting on these premises. I need
some details.’ He looked at them in turn, but Palmer was ignoring him and Szulu
was pretending he was somewhere else.

‘The shooting
was downstairs,’ said Riley firmly. ‘I was out. It was probably a case of
mistaken identity.’

‘Yes. The old
bloke downstairs says the same thing. At least, I think that’s what he said.’

‘Why are you
investigating it? This isn’t your area, is it?’

‘My area is
wherever I’m sent.’ He gave her a tight look and explained, ‘We have this new
situations alert software that’s been installed. It’s pretty neat. Anything
happening within a mile of a known address gets flagged for immediate
attention.’ He smiled proudly.

‘Known?’
Riley’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What do you mean ‘known’? This isn’t a crack house!’

Pell’s smile
vanished in an instant. ‘I’m sorry. It’s still in the trials stage and I
entered your address as a test. I was… concerned.’ He puffed his lips and
looked away, his face going pink around the edges.

Palmer
exchanged a knowing look with Szulu.

‘Oh.’ Riley was
slightly mollified. ‘In that case, thank you. But I don’t know anyone who’d
want to harm a cat. Mr Grobowski said he thought the man may have been on
drugs.’

‘Yes.
Interesting man, Mr Grobowski.’ It seemed the nearest Pell was going to get to
calling the elderly Pole a liar. ‘There’s also a report pending about a
kidnapping outside a vet’s surgery. The same surgery where your cat was being
treated for a gunshot wound. That was also flagged on our new system. The only
eyewitness is now having doubts. She thinks it might have been a prank.’

They returned
his stare with blank looks. He sighed. ‘I was told I’d have days like this. How
is the cat, by the way?’

‘He’s fine. I’m
bringing him home soon.’

‘That’s good.’
He cleared his throat and addressed Palmer. ‘We don’t have any new leads on
Miss Bellamy’s murder, I’m afraid. The foreign national she met in west London
seems to have disappeared… if he ever existed. But we’ll continue with the
investigation, of course. I just want to warn you that we may never find out
what happened. I’m sorry.’

Palmer nodded
without comment.

‘You don’t seem
surprised.’ Pell’s voice was dangerously soft. He waited for a few seconds, but
when nothing was forthcoming, he shrugged. ‘I’ve got to go. Oh, one thing more:
there was a serious ruckus in Euston three nights ago. Reports of shots, a
vehicle blown up in the street and armed men inside an office building. No
bodies, though.’

‘Really?’ Riley
forced the word out through a dry throat, not daring to look at Palmer or
Szulu. Where was this going? Did Pell know something or was he just fishing?

‘Yeah. It took
place at a building called Pantile House. Like the one in the photo you were
sent by Miss Bellamy.’ He glanced at Palmer. ‘Added to that, the building
supervisor is missing and his family are all dead. A nasty business.’

Palmer returned
the look with steady eyes. ‘What some people will do to get a cheap office.’

Pell seemed to
subside, his tone softening. ‘There’s a possible link with a Serbian drugs
gang. The dead man moved here to get away from them.’ He shook his head.
‘Obviously, it wasn’t far enough.’ He glanced at Riley and gestured towards the
door. ‘Could we have a word? In private?’

Riley followed
him out onto the landing. She could hear Mr Grobowski singing in his flat, a
mournful dirge which, for him passed as light music.

The moment
Pell’s eyes settled on her burns, she said, ‘Please don’t ask. I feel stupid
enough already, without having it pointed out to me. I had an accident in the kitchen.
It happens.’

‘Oh.’ He looked
apologetic. ‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But that’s not what I was going to
say.’

‘The answer’s,
yes,’ she said, before he could elaborate. It was more for her sake than his,
before she lost her resolve and shut herself away like a nun. John Mitcheson
was out there somewhere, she knew that. And he might re-appear at any time. But
life was for living, and time was too precious to sit around waiting for
maybes. ‘Dinner,’ she continued, ‘anytime after today and anywhere you like
except Korean. I tried it once and it didn’t agree with me.’

Pell grinned.
‘You don’t mess about, do you? How did you know I was going to ask?’

‘I didn’t.
Haven’t you heard – we girls are doing it for ourselves these days.’ She looked
at him with wide eyes. ‘Or am I being too forward? Only, if you’re not
interested-’

‘I am. I am.’
He reached out and touched her arm, then snatched it back. ‘Uh, I’ll call you.
Later.’

‘You’re not
concerned, then?’

‘About what?’

‘About being
seen fraternising with a member of the press. It might tarnish your image.’

He pretended to
give the possibility serious consideration. ‘Actually, I’m more concerned about
your accident rate. I’ve been reading up on you. Gangs on the Costa, DEA rogue
agents, Colombian drugs. And now shot cats and domestic accidents. I hope it’s
not catching.’

‘Well,’ she
said, ‘you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?’

 He fluttered
his eyebrows, then turned away.

Riley watched
him go back downstairs.

She was
smiling.

END

Thank you for reading this fifth book in the Riley &
Palmer crime series. I hope you enjoyed it. If you are interested in reading
more of my work, please visit my
website
or 
Facebook
author page
for more details).

Riley Gavin/Frank Palmer series

No Peace for the Wicked

No Help for the Dying

No Sleep for the Dead

No Tears for the Lost

Harry Tate spy series (Severn House)

Red Station

Tracers

Deception

Retribution

Inspector Lucas Rocco crime series (Allison & Busby)

Death on the Marais

Death on the Rive Nord

Death on the Pont Noir

Young Adult

The Lost Patrol (Ebook only)

Non-fiction (Accent Press)

Write On! - The Writers' Help Book

Writing as Ellen Cleary

Short stories with Happy Endings –
volume 1)  Ebook only

Short stories with Happy Endings –
volume 2)

~~~~~~~~~~~