Be Careful What You Wish For (14 page)

I sucked in a breath and felt my face (and a few other bits) flood with warmth.

Slowly, he reached out a finger and brought it to the edge of my lips. ‘You have barbeque sauce everywhere.’ The finger worked its way lower, tracing a line down my jawline and neck.

Mmm. Oh, yes, keep your finger going a bit further.
Bit further.

I shuddered, his touch burning my skin.

His finger stopped just before he reached my boob.

Ooh, hello! Nipples springing to attention alert!

All I could hear was my breath, rushing in and out, and the banging away of my heartbeat. Either it was scorchingly hot in here all of a sudden or my temperature had just shot up a trillion degrees. Even my bones felt like they were melting with the heat. If I got any hotter, I’d explode in a puff of smoke. Brad had dangerous hands, and not just for bad guys. In fact, his hands should be made illegal.

‘You even have some on your top here. Want me to kiss it off?’ His steady gaze bored into me.

My legs turned to jelly with the dangerous intensity of his gaze. My lips wanted to scream “YES” at the top of my voice, but my brain was sending me silent, red-hot warning signals.

‘Say something.’ Brad inched his lips closer to mine.

I clamped my mouth shut, not trusting myself to speak or succumb to his kiss or anything else for that matter. He looked soooooo edible. Or lickable, even.

God, it was temptation like nothing else on earth. Not even chocolate temptation compared to this, and that’s saying something! He was so close, and I knew just how good his skin would feel under my fingertips. I knew how explosive the sex would be. I knew how excited and safe and special I’d feel with his hands all over my body. I knew all this, but I decided to go with my brain’s signals and pushed him gently away.

He challenged me with his eyes and he broke into a slow, wicked grin. It was the kind of grin that made me want to throw myself at his feet and rip my clothes off. ‘It’ll never be over, you know, Foxy.’

I gulped. Yes, that was exactly what I was afraid of.

Chapter 9

I couldn’t sleep that night. My brain wouldn’t switch off at all. Partly because I kept thinking about Brad, and partly because the details of the case were going around and around my head in an endless loop. I tried to count sheep, but even they got fed up with waiting for me to drop off into la-la land and they all buggered off and left me. When I did finally succumb to sleep, I had a weird dream that I was at a fancy dress party with Vinnie. Actually, it was more like a nightmare. He was dressed up as a doughnut, although I don’t think he needed any extra padding around his stomach. I was dressed as Cat Woman, and I looked pretty sexy in my black rubber suit (that was the good bit). Vinnie held Coco in his arms, stroking the cat like the evil supervillain in James Bond (I forget his name) and cackling at me. Then Thuggy appeared dressed as Freddy Krueger, complete with slashing knife fingers, carrying Marmalade by the scruff of his neck. Thuggy was just about to bite Marmalade’s head off when I woke up.

Sweat dripped off my forehead as I sat bolt upright in bed. I could still hear the cackling resonating in my ears. Why couldn’t someone invent an on/off switch for my brain?

I had a long hot shower, soaping myself up with some lemon smelling foam that apparently contained real lemon zest (that was a fruit; would add it to my five a day) and washing out the tangles in my hair. No, actually that’s not quite true. I tried to have a long, hot shower. I dreamed of a long, hot shower. Wished for one, even. But, as usual, the hot water ran out after about five minutes, and the reality was somewhere in between lukewarm to glacial. I really needed to sort my plumbing out. Mental note: When this case is over, get a plumber to install a power shower that has a temperature control that goes above five degrees.

I blasted my hair with the hairdryer, whipped on some mascara and lippy and grabbed some breakfast to go (a bar of chocolate – handy and full of energy). I was out the door by eight, which was pretty good going.

I still had six names on my list of safety deposit box owners to question about their contents, and I wanted to crack on before my brain spontaneously combusted from too much activity.

One woman proudly told me her box contained a new, super vibrator that she’d invented and had yet to patent. She asked whether I wanted one when they went on sale.

No, thanks, I have a perfectly good one already.

Another woman had an heirloom of gold and diamond jewellery, which was worth about three thousands pounds. There was one man had some bondage photos of his boyfriend.

Ew! Too much information; bad visions would stay with me for the rest of the day.

An elderly woman had her dead husband’s false teeth in them (bless her) as well as the deeds to her house. Another man had five years of his research into various penile problems. He was thrilled to talk about this subject for half an hour, covering erections, premature ejaculation, and other facts known to penises that I tried to drown out. His manuscript was going to be the next bestseller, apparently, if only he could find a publisher for it.

And then I was down to my last one. Thank God.

I rang the doorbell on a small, whitewashed cottage with a picture book garden, wondering what sort of weird and wonderful things Eleanor Jones had stashed in her box.

A slim woman wearing a tailored trouser suit opened the door to me. She had long, brown hair pulled up into a neat chignon.

‘Can I help you?’ Her clipped accent matched the expensive suit.

‘Hi, I’m Amber Fox. I’m from Hi-Tec Insurance, and I’m investigating the safety deposit box robbery at Kinghorn Thomas Bank. Have you got time to answer a few questions?’

She hesitated for a second before fixing me with a smile. ‘Of course. Come in.’ She led me into an equally expensive looking lounge with lots of photos on the walls. Landscapes and portraits filled the room. ‘Please, have a seat.’

I glanced around. ‘You have a lovely home.’ Flattery was always good to put people at ease. ‘These are great photos.

She smiled. ‘Thank you. I’m a photographer.’

One of the photos in particular caught my eye – a small black and white photo perched on top of a bookcase. It looked old. Probably taken in the 60s sometime. But I didn’t say anything about it. Not yet. I’d wait to see what she said first.

‘I’m not sure how I can help you, exactly. I’m afraid I didn’t have much of value in my box.’ She fiddled with her fingers in her lap. ‘Just a few pieces of jewellery that my mother left me.’ She looked back at me with an expression on her face was like that of a child in severe agony.

It vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Maybe I’d just imagined it.

‘Why did you choose Kinghorn Thomas in particular to deposit your jewellery?’

She seemed to realize she was fiddling and stopped. ‘They have a good reputation – well, apart from the robbery, of course.’ She flashed me an ironic smile. ‘I thought it would be safe there.’

‘Did you know Edward Kinghorn or Carl Thomas before you looked into depositing your jewellery there?’

‘No.’

‘How about Deborah Thomas? Do you know her?’

Her hand flew to her pearl necklace and she fiddled with it instead. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. ‘No, I can’t say I do.’

 ‘Have you filed a claim with the bank’s insurance company for the loss of your jewellery?’ I asked.

She smoothed down her trousers. ‘No. Like I said, the pieces aren’t particularly valuable so I didn’t really think it was worth making a claim. It was more of sentimental value.’

I stood.

She glanced up at me, surprised and relieved that my questions were over.

‘Well, thanks very much for your time.’ I shook her hand.

Strange, I thought as I made my way to my car. Strange that the old black and white photo on her bookshelf showed a much younger Eleanor and Deborah at what looked like their university graduation party. Dressed in their black gowns and caps, they had their arms around each other, smiling ecstatically for the camera. Also strange were the pearls she was wearing. They had an identical heart-shaped pearl on them just like Deborah’s necklace. I didn’t believe for a second that the box held her mother’s jewellery. So what did it hold, and was there any connection between what was in the box and Deborah?

Romeo called my mobile as I motored towards Hi-Tec.

‘Hi.’ His voice was low and husky.

I felt a burny twinge in the depths of my stomach, but I wasn’t going to be the first one to bring up the subject of us. I didn’t seem to be thinking rationally lately. Maybe when this case was over I could finally make a decision about where my love life was headed. Maybe he didn’t miss me, anyway. Maybe the decision whether to end it for good between us had already been taken out of my hands by him.

 ‘Hi, yourself.’

‘The forensic tech people haven’t found anything untoward going on at the bank,’ he said, getting straight down to business.

 ‘Hmm. Maybe they just covered their tracks well,’ I said. ‘I’m certain that Edward Kinghorn was using clients’ money at the bank for illegal sports betting. He bet massive amounts of money on Levi throwing the fight in the eighth round.’

‘Really? That puts another spin on things.’

‘Hacker found out huge bets were placed all over the country from other people who don’t actually exist. I think you could easily start a new investigation into Vinnie for sharing insider tip-offs.’

‘When I’ve finished with the robbery and Carl’s murder, I’ll start looking into it, thanks.’

I filled him in on the other details I’d found out so far. Even if Romeo wasn’t sharing all his information, I wasn’t just going to stop because we weren’t actually seeing each other anymore.

‘Well, I checked out Levi’s alibi for the time of the robbery,’ Romeo said. ‘He really was at a health farm in Scotland.’

‘That figures. It doesn’t mean he didn’t get someone else to do it if he wanted what was in Vinnie’s safety box.’

‘True.’ Romeo paused for a beat. ‘The post-mortem test results came back on Carl Thomas. Cause of death was the knife wound to his throat. No surprise there, really. We’ve managed to find out he ate an early dinner on Saturday night before he went to the boxing match. From his stomach contents, the pathologist determined he was killed sometime between midnight and 4 a.m.’

‘Thanks. The other people I know of with possible motives for the robbery are Edward and Deborah.’ I pulled into the Hi-Tec car park and turned off the engine. ‘There’s also a possibility that Craig “The Knife” Hanson was involved.’

‘Craig Hanson? I haven’t heard that name for a long time. He did the First National Bank robbery with Lee, didn’t he?’

‘Yep. And according to his wife, he went missing a few weeks before the safety box robbery.’

‘Well, I’ll check into his whereabouts,’ Romeo said. ‘Edward Kinghorn was at a big banker’s dinner on Saturday night, which went on until after 5 a.m. Witnesses saw him there the whole time.’

‘So he couldn’t have killed Carl, then. And, to be honest, I doubt that Edward could’ve overpowered a stocky guy like Carl and slit his throat. He is in a wheelchair, after all. What about Deborah’s whereabouts that night?’

‘I don’t know. We’re still trying to get hold of her. She’s not answering her phone and there’s no sign of her at Ashcombe House.’

I tapped the steering wheel and leaned my head back against the headrest. ‘Maybe she’s done a runner. I think she’s involved in the robbery somehow.’ I thought back to Eleanor Jones’s safety box. ‘I’ll see if I can get hold of her as well.’

‘I’ll give you an update when I have something.’

‘Great.’ I hesitated, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. Seconds passed and neither of us spoke.

‘Bye, Amber.’ And he disconnected.

Before I could analyse the psychology of that, Dad phoned.

‘How are you?’ he asked.

‘Busy, busy, busy. How are you? Anymore burglaries in the neighbourhood?’ I grabbed my rucksack and eased myself out the door.

‘No. Nothing so far.’

‘Has Sabre pooped yet?’ I headed up the stairs to my office.

‘No, that’s why I’m calling. This isn’t like him at all. Do you think I should take him to the vet?’

‘No. Give him some prunes or something.’

‘Good idea. I’ll let you know as soon as he’s de-pooped.’

I grimaced. ‘Great. I’ll thoroughly look forward to it. How’s Mum?’

‘She’s…OK. Have you seen Suzy?’

Suzy’s my younger sister. We were about as opposite as the arctic and the desert. She was the arctic. Very cold and controlled. I think she’d actually been switched at birth.

‘No. The only time I usually see her is at your house.’ I deposited my rucksack on my desk and mouthed “Yo” at Hacker who looked up briefly from his keyboard.

‘Do you want to come for lunch on Thursday?’ Dad said. ‘That’ll cheer your mum up. Suzy’s coming.’

‘Sure. And Dad…’

‘Yes?’

‘Why don’t you take Mum out for dinner or something? I think she’s feeling a bit neglected at the moment.’

Silence for a while as he thought about this. ‘Good idea. I’ll stop off on my way home and get her some flowers, too.’

‘She’d like that. See you Thursday, unless Sabre poops before that.’ I hung up and leaned over the desk, eyeing Hacker. ‘So what have you got for me?’

‘I’m still working on the audio from the fight to see what Carl was saying.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not getting very far, though. It might be a lost cause. But…’ He held up his finger as he took a swig of sparkling water. ‘I have found out about the woman at Swallow Mews who’s having the affair with Levi.’

‘OK, shoot.’

‘Her name’s Amanda Forsythe,’ he said and waited for me to say something.

I thought about the name, head on one side, for a moment. I recognized it, but I didn’t know where from. ‘Who’s she?’

‘She writes those erotic novels.’ Brad suddenly appeared behind me.

‘Stop creeping up on me!’ I rolled my eyes at him.

‘But I’m bringing gifts.’ He grinned at me and plonked a box of doughnuts on my desk.

I eyed the box with appreciation. Yay! ‘OK, maybe I can make an exception for doughnuts.’