Crime Always Pays (4 page)

          'So she said. What about Karen and Ray?'

          'The usual All Pointless Bullshit. Airports, ferries.'

          'The boys think they're leaving the country?'

          'Not dragging a wolf with them they're not. By the way, the wolf? The boys're shooting on sight. We're down one Alsatian already, out at Seagrove. I wouldn't mind but it was one of our own.'

          'They're shooting at Anna? But she's a pet.'

          Sparks sucked chocolate off her finger. 'The vet who called in the mauling, the possible rabies? He said the guy was a feather off having his head mushed. And that van they found in the woods, the window was busted in from hard enough to shunt the van into a gully. Inside was like a bomb in a jam factory.' She forked home more cake. 'Why didn't Karen just cross a croc with a rhino, be done with it?'

          'What van is this?'

          'The van in the woods.' Sparks frowned. 'They found it in the gully, beside a wrecked Beamer.'

          'But no Rossi. No money.'

          'No money and about two pints of, they're guessing, the elusive Rossi.'

          'If it was Anna,' Doyle said, wondering why Ted hadn't mentioned the van, 'she had her reasons. Rossi, breaking her in, took her eye out with a fork.'

          Sparks thought about that, then shrugged and forked home some more cake. 'So what're you doing to do with your time off? You need to stick around for the investigation?'

          'Nope.'

          'Then take a holiday. Pack a thong, get some sun on that lily-white ass. Where's Niko these days – Barcelona? Cannes?'

          'Don't even go there,' Doyle said.

          '
You're
 the one won't go there. I was you, had a guy calling me up, "Hey, come on over to Venice for some fun, we'll party, no strings," guess where I'd be? The Tardis, seeing if I couldn't be in like five different places at the same time, getting five different tans.'

          'You have no idea,' Doyle said, 'how bad his breath stinks.'

          'So pretend you're a hooker, you don't do kissies. Listen, the main reason I brought it up? I've time coming. I'm due twelve days.'

          'Oh yeah?'

          'Plus I ran a check on one Madge Dolan.'

          'You ever use that computer for official police work?'

          'I'm police, I'm official. Anyway, the last time Madge used her credit card? Sunday, over the internet. Booking a cruise out of Athens that starts Friday night,eight o'clock.'

'It can get sunny,' Doyle said slowly, 'in Athens. She booked in on her own?'

          'According to the cruise people, no.'

          'They're the ones who'd know,' Doyle said. 'So who?'

          'Promise to tell me about Madge and Rossi?'

          'Christ, Sparks …'

          'Karen King.'

          'No Ray Brogan?'

          'No Ray. No Raymond, Raphael, Rainier, Reynaldo, Raymundo … You find out his real name yet?'

          'It's a work in progress. So she books a cruise on Sunday …'

          'And gets herself snatched Monday. Maybe she's psychic, huh? Had herself a premonition.'

          'Could be. When's she flying out?'

          'Thursday evening, six o'clock. Except here's the thing. It's for two flights to Denver.'

          'Denver?'

          'Denver Colorado, via New York. Plus there's payments to a place called Piste of Mind.'

          'The ski shop?'

          'You know it?'

          'It's where Ted picked up his stuff, gloves and shit, that time he went on the stag weekend.' Doyle cocked her head. 'What d'you think, she's laying down a false trail?'

          'Looks like it. But which is which?'

          'With no flight to Athens, you'd be thinking Denver.'

          'She look much like a skier to you?'

          'I'm thinking a cruise'd be more her style.'

          'Me too.'

          'Mainly,' Doyle said, 'because you want some sun on your ass.'

          'True. But hey, you're there for Friday night when the cruise leaves, she's not on it? Just hop a flight for Denver.'

Doyle drank off the last of her latte, cold now, tasteless. 'You tell the boys any of this?'

Sparks shrugged. 'Since when has it been an actual crime,' she said, 'to book a cruise?'

Melody

'Be with you in a sec,' Melody said, looking up from the computer. She glanced over the guy's shoulder at the clock on the back wall above the rack of Far East / Australasia brochures, its red LCD showing temperatures in all the time-zones, still 28 degrees in Marrakech and nearly ten o'clock there, give or take.

Then focused on the guy, hulking and slope-shouldered, the untidy shag of dirty-blonde hair with a fringe, falling across his eyes and putting her in mind of Javier Bardem, 
No Country
. 'So how can I help?' she said, flashing a smile.   

          'I'm looking to book a holiday.'

          'Well, you've come to the right place.' She rattled a few keys on the keyboard for show. 'Anywhere particular in mind?'

          'Not really. Where's hot right now?'

          'Weather-hot or cool-hot?'

          'You can't get both?'

          'Sure. Just give me an idea of where you're thinking about.'

          The guy considered, then shrugged. 'That girl was just in here, she looked funky. Where's she going?'

          'I shouldn't say,' Mel said. 'It's not really a service we provide to women flying alone, a potential stalker as a surprise added extra.'

          The guy grinned. 'It's okay,' he said. 'I know her.'

          'Oh yeah? What's her name?'

          'Let's just say she's a friend of a friend.'

          'You know the friend's name? That'd be a start.'

          'We, uh, only met this afternoon.'

          'Love at first sight,' Mel said. Trying to figure the guy, nice eyes behind the fringe when he smiled, no psycho vibes. Big all round, the husky type, but no sense of threat with it, a gentle voice. Although maybe that was his schtick. 'Listen,' she said, 'here's an idea. Why don't you ask her friend you know so well where the girl's going on holidays?'

          'See,' he said, 'the friend's already gone. This girl, she'll be meeting her. And it's more the friend I'm interested in.'

          'This is a travel agency, not a dating service.'

          'I know, but --'

          'Sorry,' Mel said, 'no can do.'

          He held her gaze a second or two, a shaggy bear standing there with his shoulders slumped. Then he shrugged and lumbered to the door. Locked it and flipped the sign around, started back slow, tugging up his t-shirt so Mel could see the pearl-grip butt of a gun sticking out of his pants. Mel soundtracking it – Kenny Rogers,
Coward of the County
. Or maybe Ennio.

          'Look, uh, Melody,' he said, nodding at her name-tag, 'I really don't want --'

          'Is that thing even loaded?'

          ''Course, yeah.'

          'So I don't tell you where the girl's gone, you'll shoot me. Just like that.'

          'I'm not saying it'd be easy,' the guy said, 'but --'

          'Bullcrap.'

          'Sorry?'

          'Who're you supposed to be, Eddie G?'

         ‘I was more aiming for Mitchum.'

          'Yeah,' Mel said, 'I can see that now, with the sleepy-eyes thing going on. You ever done time for dope?'

          'Three months, yeah. Half a pound a weed. I wouldn't have minded so much, it actually was for personal use. Anyway, this girl, where's she going?'

          'How come you want her?'

          'You first.'

          'No, you.'

          The guy considered. 'See,' he said, 'I could tell you, yeah, but then you'd be an accessory after the fact.'

          'What fact?'

          'You don't have to worry about the girl,' he said. 'I mean, she's a cop, yeah. But our beef isn't with her.'

          'She's a cop?'

          'Yep.'

          'Shouldn't she be chasing you?'

          'Like I say, she's a friend of a friend. The friend, or friends, they've got money belongs to an associate of mine. So …'

          'How much money?' Mel said.

          'I thought this was a travel agency, not an information bureau.'

          'Touché. But listen, uh, Bob …'

          'It's Gary.'

          'Okay, Gary …' Mel put her elbows on the counter, leaned in. 'I tell you where she's going, Gary, how much is that worth to you?'

          'That depends.'

          'On what?'

          'I really couldn't say,' Gary said. 'I'm the muscle, not the money-man.'

Frank

'Frank's the victim here,' Bryan told the lead detective. 'You don't 
get
 that? He's been set up, dragged into some kidnap scam, had his knee blown out … I mean, he's the one lying in a hospital bed, okay, makes it a little easier for you to track him down, pin all this bullshit on him, I understand how it's maybe more difficult for you to catch bad guys who're still on their feet, able to walk away, maybe run a few rings around you they feel like a little aerobic exercise. But,' Bryan held up three fingers clamped together, looking to Frank like he was about to execute a Scout's salute, dib-dib-dib, Frank watching with his eye half-open, feigning coma, 'if you're not out of here in three seconds flat you'll be looking at a harassment suit on top of the negligence, I shit you not.'

          'When'll he be able to answer questions?' the cop asked the nurse.

          'I don't know,' the nurse said. 'Ask the doctor.'

          'Where'll I find him?'

          'Oh,' the nurse said, edging around the bed to check Frank's saline drip, 'there's a box in the corridor marked 'Doctors', we just pull one out any time we have a question. Just make sure you put him back when you're finished, okay? We hate it when there's loads of doctors running around doing stuff.'

          The first cop looked at the other cop, who shrugged. 'We'll be back in the morning,' the first cop said. 'First thing.'

          'Visiting hours,' the nurse told their departing backs, 'are from eleven to three.' The second cop, without turning around, flipped her the bird.

          When the nurse finally left, Frank opened his eyes all the way. 'Christ, I've been at quieter spaghetti junctions. The fuck'm I paying Blue Riband for?'

          'Technically speaking,' Bryan said, 'medical staff have access to you twenty-four-seven. It's for your own good.' Bryan the acid-fried former hippy and Frank's current lawyer, on the basis he was the cheapest legal advice of Frank's regular four-ball partners out at Oakwood. Bryan who'd originally come to Frank with the idea of having Madge snatched, then claiming on the insurance. Which meant, it was only occurring to Frank now, it should be Bryan and not Frank lying in a hospital bed with his knee pureed.

          'Frank?'

          Frank turned his head, struggling to peer over the sheeted tent erected over the scaffolding protecting his leg, then glimpsed, with a sinking feeling, Genevieve sitting on a chair beside the window.

          'You let 
her
 in? Fucking hell, Bry.'

          'She's claiming common-law, Frank. She's entitled.'

          'I godda a question for you, Frank.' Gen stood up, staggered a little, then pointed an unsteady finger. 'How come the cops're saying you hadda one-way tigget to this Haiti place?'

          'Didn't you hear Bry?' Frank said. 'The fuckers're trying to frame me. They'll say whatever suits 'em.'

          'Why would they say Haiti, Frank? I mean, 
we
 were gunna Agapulgo. After you got this ransom. So you shoulda had, the ver' least, two tiggets.'

          'I thought visiting hours,' Frank said to Bryan, 'were eleven to three.'

          'Gen gets special privileges, Frank. Common-law.'

          'We been together,' Frank said, 'what, eight months? Nine? How's that qualify as common-law?'