Deadly Obsession (27 page)

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Authors: Nigel May

BOOK: Deadly Obsession
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Now, 2015

N
othing fazed Adam Rich
, not normally. But then today, so far, had not been a day like any other. He'd woken up hung-over, the excess of Jack Daniel's he'd drunk the night before still uncomfortably swallowing the inside of his head.

It wasn't very often that Adam let himself drink too much but when a colleague had asked him to join him for an evening's poker game he'd gladly accepted. His wife was spending his hard-earned cash and moving fucking ridiculous statues into their home, his waste-of-space daughter was playing all sorts of raucous tunes throughout the house, not allowing him to think clearly and all the talk of his killing Weston Smith was really beginning to swamp his every thought.

The evening poker had turned into a late night and it was easily 3am by the time he'd returned home. The house was quiet, Lily obviously out or asleep – the former, knowing her. He fell asleep on the sofa. The only noise when Adam woke up mid-morning the next day was the banging inside his head from the whisky and the ring of his office telephone. At first he ignored it, but when it kept ringing he knew that somebody was desperately trying to get hold of him.

Stomping his way to his office, he snatched up the phone. It was Tommy, telling him about Jemima's death. A boulder of foreboding shattered inside him. Jarrett had killed Jemima, he knew it. He'd found out about Weston's death, that he and Riley were responsible and he was back to kill his way through those nearest and dearest, causing as much horrific misery as possible. He'd have to check on Caitlyn and Lily, make sure they were okay. And watch his every move.

His mood only changed somewhat, disbelief replacing despair, when Tommy informed him that Jemima's death was a suicide and that she'd killed herself over the death of Winston Curtis.

‘What, she was shagging the bloke who worked with Riley? Fucking hell, Tommy, right underneath your nose, you poor bastard.' As ever, Adam spoke before he thought. ‘She was swallowing a length of black cock and you never even knew?'

‘No, I had no idea.' Tommy's voice was weak, uncharacteristically so. ‘But that's not why I rang. Can you come over?'

‘Are you fucking messing me, Tommy? I was out last night and my head feels like somebody's taken a bleeding dump in it this morning. I'm going back to bed ... I'll swing by later if I—'

Tommy cut Adam off in full flow. ‘I've seen Jarrett Smith. He was here this morning. I'm sure it was him. I wasn't going to come in, what with the news about Jemima, but some of the staff haven't turned up – the bunch of lightweights have probably clocked off early for Christmas – so I needed to sort some things out.'

Adam could feel the blood drain from his face, sudden fear and the hangover causing him to stagger on his feet. ‘Are you fucking sure?'

‘Ninety per cent, yes. I'm sure he was getting into a car outside here. He had someone with him. I don't think he saw me, but he's got to be here for a reason and I don't think it's to open a tab at the casino, do you?'

‘I'm coming over. Don't move.' Adam slammed the phone down, chucked on some clothes and was out of the door in minutes. He only stopped on the way out to make sure that the gun in his pocket was loaded with bullets. It was.

B
oth Amy
and Grant had woken up mid-morning too. The air of awkwardness between them as they realised the spooning position they were still in lasted only a few seconds, Grant smiling to break any embarrassment.

‘Thank you,' said Amy, her meaning simple and clear. The comfort she had felt from being in his arms was immense. She hadn't realised just how much she had missed the touch of a man's body against hers. The shared experience between them had not been sexual in the slightest, despite Grant's obvious erection, pushing at the material of his pyjama bottoms as he stood up off the bed. Amy couldn't help but smile as it caught her attention.

‘Sorry, force of habit ... morning glory and all that,' grinned Grant, moving his hands in front of his crotch. ‘I'll go and freshen up in the bathroom and see you later. What are your plans for today?'

Amy hadn't really thought. She had no idea how to get hold of Riley. She did have unfinished business with Dolly but that could wait for now. She needed to see Lily. She had obviously come to the hotel to see her for a reason, but with the appearance of Riley, all of that had gone out of the window.

‘I'm going to see Lily. She came here to talk about something. I need to know what it is. Not that I really want to hear anything that she has to say. Plus, if Riley is back I want to make sure she has no plans to reignite their affair.'

‘Why? Are you going to take him back?' asked Grant. His question seemed multi-layered, as if his own interest were at stake, but Amy wasn't sure whether she was imagining it.

‘To be honest,' said Amy, pulling her knees protectively to her chest as she sat on the bed, ‘I don't know if I can. I need to see him I guess, but I've no idea how. He has all the balls in his court. What he's done to me, to you ... to so many people ... is totally foreign to me. All this hurt and suffering. But I need to know what happened at the club, why my best friend died, even if my husband didn't. I have no choice. I'm doing this for Laura.'

A cloud of reflective silence hung between them for a few minutes, neither knowing what to say next. It was Amy who ended it.

She looked at Grant. ‘Do you want to come to Lily's with me? I could do with the company.'

Grant hung his head slightly. ‘Listen, Amy, do you mind if I don't? I was actually thinking that maybe I should get out of your hair for a bit to be honest. Don't take this the wrong way, but the stabbing has made me realise just how serious this all is. I will do whatever I can for you, but I don't like Riley, I never have. And being stabbed by him, well ... that's not exactly what was planned in my mind when I came here with you. Do you understand?'

‘Of course, this is my fight, not yours.' Amy could feel the disappointment in her voice. She had got used to Grant being around.

‘I'd be lying if I didn't say that I think you're fucking mad for chasing after him in the first place, after everything he's put you through. You're worth better and he deserves your hatred. But I guess that's not my call is it? I'm going back to London. My agent has set up some meetings and well, I need to make sure this is all healed before I start filming again in the new year,' he said, motioning towards his stab wound. ‘I hope you find peace with all this, Amy. Riley owes you an explanation. If somebody tried to kill him, then I think there are more likely candidates, given the somewhat seedy nature of his work, than TV folks like me. This is all getting a little too real for me. I prefer my drama on the pages of a script. But I'd walk away from all of this if I were you.'

‘I know ...' whispered Amy, ‘But I can't. I'm sorry you became so involved. You've been amazing. When are you going?'

‘I'm going to head back this afternoon. You can ring me any time you like. Stay here at the hotel for as long as you want. I'll leave my details at Reception, charge it all to me. Just don't ever let Riley stay here with you, eh? I'm not paying for that little shit, okay?'

Grant's voice had a hairline of jest running through it, but his meaning was clear. His opinion of Riley would never change. Amy could see that their bitter schoolboy rivalry would be something that would run deeply within Grant for a lifetime. Plus there was the somewhat graver matter of the stabbing.

‘You'll always hate him, won't you?' It was more of a statement than a question.

‘Of course I always will. We'll always clash so I think it's best that we're not in the same city at the same time, especially with all the crap flying around at the moment.'

Grant went to walk away, heading for the bathroom.

Amy knew it was her cue to leave.

‘Can we stay in touch?' she said. They had shared so much, after all.

Grant turned towards her, a mask of sadness across his face. ‘I'd like that, I really would. You have my numbers. Don't be a stranger.'

‘One last thing, then ... I need to know. You could have told the police about Riley stabbing you. You could have had a warrant out for his arrest, had him charged with bodily harm or something. Why didn't you?'

‘And cause you more pain? I like you Amy, I've grown fond of you. Really fond.' His meaning was clear. ‘But you're so wrapped up with Riley and everything that's going on, and that's totally understandable. There's no room for me, not now, maybe not ever. That's another reason that it's best I'm not around you for a bit. I couldn't tell the police. Not because of him. Just because of you. You look after yourself, you hear ...?'

Grant moved back over to Amy and kissed her gently on her cheek. The one with no trace of bruise. Amy felt a tenderness in his touch. He turned and shut the bathroom door behind him. There was no more to say.

A
dam and Tommy
had talked themselves around in circles. This was another thing that unsettled Adam. He liked his conversations to have a beginning, a middle and an end. Endings had to be mapped out.

If Jarrett Smith was in town, then Adam wanted to know what they could do about it.
Where
could they find him? How would they deal with him? And more importantly, what exactly did he want? The two men had argued, Adam showing no compassion for Tommy's recent loss.

‘For fuck's sake, Jarrett Smith was here and you let him slip through your fingers. What kind of fucking wuss are you, Tommy? We need to finish this.'

Tommy spat back. ‘Well, what exactly do
you
think
we
are supposed to do, Adam?'

‘We need to sort the fucker. If he's back here seeking revenge for Weston then he's getting a bit too close for comfort. We need to stop it.' Adam pulled the gun out of his pocket to indicate his intention.

‘And what good would that do?' barked Tommy. ‘We'd have the whole of London gangland after us then, wouldn't we? Dirty Cash sees me well, Adam, I don't want to fuck anything up. This all stays buried with Weston. With Riley out of the way your secret's safe.'

A storm of rage ran across Adam's face. ‘
My
secret? It's
our
fucking secret, sunshine. If anyone links me to that death, then you're coming with me, all the way to hell if need be.'

‘Okay,
our
secret,' rectified Tommy. ‘Now, get out of here and take that shooter with you. If Jarrett Smith has anything to say then I'm sure he's going to let us know. There's nothing we can do for the moment. For all we know he might be here on some other kind of business. We've just got to hope that's the case.'

‘I don't believe that for a second,' cried Adam. ‘And you're not fucking stupid enough to either.'

Adam was right, Tommy wasn't.

A
dam felt twitchy driving back
to his house, unable to shift his deep seated feeling of uneasiness. He'd just spoken to Caitlyn to tell her about Jarrett and she was sensibly pissing off to London again. Meanwhile, his day was going from bad to worse, and as he turned into his street and saw Amy walking towards his house he knew that it wasn't going to get any better. What did she want?

Pulling alongside her in his car, Adam wound down the window to speak to her. ‘What are you doing here? Can't you just let your fucking husband rest in peace?'

‘Not when he's still alive, no, I don't need to.' Her words floored Adam.

‘He's alive? You're deranged. His face was blown off and he's living it up with Satan. He's probably trying to strike a deal with the devil's helpers to see if they can melt down Beelzebub's trident for drug money for him.'

‘Then why did I see him two days ago, here in Manchester?' said Amy. ‘And not just me, Lily saw him too. Why don't we go and ask her? Is she home?'

Riley alive?
The thought wrapped itself around Adam's throat, squeezing it dry. Who the hell was blown apart at the club then? He tried not to let it show on his face. ‘I've no idea, but she's a creature of the night normally so she'll probably be sleeping like a baby right now before heading off to whichever shit-heap she chooses to spend her time at. Jump in.'

Adam pushed open the passenger door of the car, allowing Amy to climb inside. He pointed a remote control at the iron gates protecting the property and keyed in the code to open them. They swung open and the two of them drove up to the house.

‘Lily, get down here now.' Adam was shouting up the stairs as loudly as he could as soon as he set foot inside the Rich family home. ‘Amy Hart is here to see you. And I bloody want to speak to you and all ...' Amy could see a vein in Adam's forehead throbbing as he spoke. He was a man on the edge.

There was no reply from above. Nothing unusual.

‘Stupid girl is probably wearing her bloody earphones or something. She can't hear a damn thing when she's wearing those great big things. Lily!' Adam shouted again, this time a little louder, ‘Get your scrawny little ass down here now!'

‘Maybe's she's not here. Maybe she's managed to track Riley down before me,' Amy looked worried. ‘Just tell her I need to see her ...'

Adam stomped his way up the stairs, shouting Lily's name as he did so. He was used to his daughter not answering back. He turned to face Amy. ‘Well, are you coming or what? If you want to see her she'll be stoned off her face on her bed listening to some godforsaken racket. Maybe you can talk some sense into her about your wanker of a husband.'

Amy followed Adam upstairs.

‘She'll be in a world of her own with those bloody stupid earphones on her head, you mark my words ... all she does during the day is listen to music and take fuck knows what. It's a pity that club of yours isn't still going, at least you gave her some sort of PR job, even if she was peddling that shit of hers. But I suppose when you're sleeping with the boss you can do whatever you bloody well like. You know about that, I suppose, my Lily sleeping with Riley ...?' Adam didn't really care if she didn't, half of him hopeful that he could be the one to break the news.

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