Dirty Game (20 page)

‘Remember your plan, Miss Bailey?’ asked that chilly voice on the phone.

Annie was standing in the hall. It was Saturday morning. Chris was sitting there, watching her impassively. She felt tired and irritable. Redmond
fucking
Delaney had got her out of a nice warm bed to play mind games. Okay, it was eleven in the morning and she should have been up and dressed. She knew that. But knowing it was one thing, doing it was something else. And so she was here – again – in her dressing gown with hair like a haystack in a gale. Dolly passed by, looking with disapproval at the state of her. It was almost funny. She was turning into Dolly, and Dolly was turning into her.

‘Plan?’ echoed Annie.

‘Expansion, Miss Bailey.’

‘Oh.’ Annie dragged a hand through her hair. ‘That plan.’

‘Why not go ahead with that?’ asked Redmond.

Why not
, thought Annie. Because she could hardly summon the energy to stand up, far less launch a new business? Right now she could think of a thousand reasons why not.

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘Only I’ve looked at a few places with good potential.’

‘Right.’

‘Perhaps I should leave it with you, let you mull it over.’

‘Mm. Okay.’ She put the phone down. She’d forgotten to say a polite goodbye, she realized afterwards.

‘Bugger,’ she muttered.

You didn’t just put the phone down on Redmond Delaney. But then she was so deeply in the shit, would another few inches matter? She had dumped Max Carter. You didn’t do that, either. But she had. Was she brave, or just stupid?

Stupid
, she thought. Because now she was miserable as sin. She missed him far more than she would ever have thought possible. She knew he was a bastard, but she was still in love with him. And what was there for her here? She was strictly surplus to requirements. Dolly had brightened up

after Annie’s little peacemaking speech yesterday, but she was still edgy. The message was clear; she was here on sufferance, and the sooner she went, the better.

Annie went through to the kitchen and found Dolly there at the table with Billy. She hadn’t seen him for quite a while. He’d obviously been intimidated by Chris standing on guard and by the formality of using the front door, she knew that, but now it looked like he’d overcome it. Annie could see, to her shame, that her appearance startled him. Fuck, she knew she looked a wreck. Dolly poured her some tea. Dolly looked immaculate from her hair down to her fingernails.

This can’t go on
, thought Annie.

‘Hello Billy, how are you?’ she asked, making an effort.

‘I’m f-fine, thank you Miss Bailey,’ he said, looking sideways at her while scribbling in his notebook.

She looked over at what he was doing. As usual, it was just scribble, blackening the page. There was nothing intelligible there, nothing that made sense at all. Maybe it made sense to Billy. Who knew? It was rather sweet, the way he still came calling even though Celia was gone. And it was good of Redmond Delaney to turn a blind eye to Billy’s continued presence on his manor.

She took her tea out to the hall and dialled the Delaneys’ number.

‘Hello?’ said Redmond.

‘Mr Delaney, I’m sorry, I think we got cut off.’

‘Yes.’

‘What you were saying, about plans,’ said Annie.

‘Yes?’

‘I might have a place in mind,’ she said. It was probably gone by now, but if it was, so be it.

The first place she’d looked at with Ellie had been a favourite, with its fabulous views out over Green Park, but it was unfurnished and it would cost an arm and a leg to get the place done out as she’d like it; it was also a little too far out.

The second had been closer to Whitehall and was rather like a gentleman’s club inside, fully furnished with lots of dark wood panelling and large comfy chairs. Even the bedrooms were sumptuously done out in reds and golds. She could picture her gentlemen there, making themselves at home.

She didn’t want to think about the third apartment. The apartment where she had lived and loved with Max. She put that straight out of her head.

‘I’ll contact the agents and get back to you, if that’s all right?’ said Annie.

‘Good, Miss Bailey.’

‘Goodbye then.’

‘Do keep in touch, Miss Bailey. I’m following your career with interest.’

Annie was surprised to find herself smiling as she put down the phone. Against all probability, she quite liked cool, collected Redmond Delaney with his soft and sophisticated Irish lilt. Like Orla, he seemed to have a polish and poise the other Delaneys lacked.

It was about time she got herself back on track.

The same estate agent she’d spoken to before met her at the Whitehall apartment. The place still looked mightily impressive. The panelling lent it a grandeur, the chandeliers cast a soft, clubby light down on the costly rugs, occasional tables and leather Chesterfields. The drapes were thick gold velvet. She liked this place. She could do business here, she felt.

‘I’ll take it,’ she said, even though the shortest lease was six months and the price was astronomical. But that was where Redmond Delaney came in.

Back at the agent’s office she wrote a cheque for a month’s rental in advance. The agent shook her hand, she got a taxi back to Limehouse and straightaway put a call through to Redmond.

‘I’ve rented a place in Upper Brook Street,’ she said, and described it to him in detail.

‘It sounds perfect,’ said Redmond.

‘You said you’d chip in with half the rental if we negotiated a cut of the profits.’

‘So I did. And you remembered.’

‘Will you, then?’

‘Yes, of course. But I’ll want input on how the business is run.’

‘Understood.’

‘I’ll meet you there at ten tomorrow. Give me the full address and notify the agent. I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Bailey. And I’m pleased you’re back.’

Which was nice, thought Annie. But Redmond wanted his pound of flesh out of this. She didn’t much like the idea of him having too much of a say in how she ran the business, but she wanted his cash input so what could she do? Needs must, she thought.

Yeah
, thought Annie as she ran upstairs to sort out something suitable to wear for meeting the boss of the Delaneys tomorrow. She was
back
.

 At nine o’clock on Monday Redmond Delaney was shown into the front room. Annie had been up and dressed early, before the rest of the household in fact. Only Chris had been about.

‘But I thought he was meeting me up West?’ said Annie.

Chris shrugged and sat down in the corner.
A man of few words, Chris. Obviously Redmond had decided on a change of plan. Annie straightened her pearls in the hall mirror and went into the front room, shutting the door behind her, a smile of welcome in place.

It wasn’t Redmond, it was Kieron.

‘Oh,’ she said blankly.

‘As warm welcomes go, that leaves a little to be desired,’ he smiled.

‘I was expecting Redmond,’ said Annie.

‘And the welcome’s not getting any warmer,’ noted Kieron.

‘Kieron, why are you here?’

Kieron’s smile dropped. ‘Sure, I’m beginning to wonder about that myself.’

Annie was shocked and alarmed. She had already seen something horrible happen to someone she was fond of. It wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat. It wasn’t safe for Kieron to be anywhere near her, and she knew it. Somehow she was going to have to push the point home. Brutally, if necessary.

‘What are you seeing Redmond about?’ asked Kieron when Annie stood there in silence.

‘Business.’

‘Should you be getting involved in that?’ asked Kieron.

Annie decided enough was enough. He had to be told, and she had best tell him right now.
‘Fucking hell, Kieron,’ she exploded. ‘What’s it to you what I get involved in? What am I, pure as the driven snow? Has it escaped your notice that I live in a whorehouse?’

Kieron looked taken aback. ‘Yeah, but you’re not a whore,’ he stuttered.

‘No, I ran this place and pretty soon I’ll run another. I’m a Madam, Kieron. I’m not a schoolgirl. I don’t need anyone’s permission to conduct my business any damned way I please.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Kieron held up his hands, looking amazed and a bit hurt by this unexpected tirade. ‘I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I was told you’d split from Max Carter, I just wondered how you are.’

‘You wondered how I am?’ Annie’s face was hard. ‘I’m fucking hunky-dory, Kieron. I’m
fine
.’

Kieron was silent then. His face was a picture of hurt. Annie steeled herself. She wanted to hug him, to see him smile and laugh, but she didn’t dare. For his sake.

‘I thought we were friends,’ he said at last.

We are
, thought Annie painfully.
That’s why I
have to do this
.

‘Oh, grow up,’ she said harshly.

‘You’ve changed,’ said Kieron.

‘Maybe I have. Maybe I’ve had to.’

‘I missed you, Annie,’ he said in a voice suddenly thick with emotion.

‘For God’s sake.’ Annie turned away. She hated seeing him in pain.

‘When you were with him, when you were with that fucking animal Max Carter …’

‘Don’t do this, Kieron,’ said Annie, shaking her head.

‘I have to. I have to get this out or it’s going to fucking-well choke me to death. Annie Bailey, when I didn’t have you in my life I missed you. And I started to realize …’

‘
No
,’ Annie howled.

‘
Yes
. I’m going to say this because it’s the absolute truth. I saw you as nothing at first. A beautiful face. A subject to paint, that’s all. Then I started talking to you, getting to know what you’re really like …’

‘What I’m really like is hard as nails, Kieron,’ said Annie, clutching her arms around herself because this was horrible, it hurt too much. ‘I’m hard because I’ve had to be. I’ve no time for anyone unless there’s something in it for me. I hated my mother and I took my sister’s husband, how’s
that
for sheer fucking nastiness?’

‘Your mother was a drunk who put you through hell all your young life. And you were in love with the man.’ Kieron grabbed her shoulder and she shook him off. ‘You loved him and he took advantage of that.’

‘Oh sure. Good as gold Annie corrupted by big
bad Max Carter, that’s me. Come off it, Kieron. I’m a bitch of the lowest order. You’ve heard all about it, you ought to know it’s true.’

‘None of that’s the real you,’ said Kieron. ‘You’re sweet and you’re funny and you care more than you ever let on. And I miss you like fuck. I don’t like not having you in my life. I should have said all this before, and maybe you would never have got involved with him again.’

Annie turned and gave him a look full of scorn. ‘Who do you think you are, Kieron Delaney? Do you really think you could ever measure up to Max Carter?’

Kieron flushed with temper. It was only the second time Annie had seen it happen. He grabbed her arms and shook her.

‘I may not be a thug like he is, but I’m a man,’ he spat out. ‘I can get women. Any women I want.’

‘Well bully for you,’ said Annie coldly. ‘Go out and find one of those women, Kieron, because
I
want a real man, not a sorry excuse for one.’

‘You cow,’ said Kieron, and kissed her.

Annie fought like a tiger and quickly got free.

‘Chris!’ she shouted.

The door was flung open and Chris stood there, alert.

‘Oh don’t bother,’ said Kieron. ‘I’m going.’ He turned and gave Annie a bitter smile. ‘Chris won’t touch me, anyway, don’t you know that? I could
tie you up and rape you with a bag over your head and he wouldn’t lift a finger. Because I’m a
Delaney
. But then maybe that’s the sort of treatment you prefer.’

‘Fuck off out of it, Kieron,’ said Annie.

Chris stood aside.

Kieron went.

Jonjo Carter was with yet another blonde, shagging away on the big bed at his place.

‘Oh come on, sweetness,’ she whined, because she was tired and she wanted to get this over, and Mr Stiffy kept turning into Mr Bendy, at this fucking rate she’d be panting and gasping all night, and she was ready for a kip.

It had been a long day for Jonjo. Not a bad one, really. Cara worked in the bedding section of a department store the firm was taking an interest in. It always paid to have an insider to call on, should you need one. And it looked as if they might need one. So Jonjo had gone to look around, and had pitched up in bedding where he was naturally attracted to blonde pretty Cara. She seemed ideal. She had the face of an innocent angel and the soul of a greedy harpy. She was perfect.

Jonjo had taken her to the dogs and doled out

cash for her to bet a fortune at the track, winning some but losing more. Which had put him in a bad mood, but he’d hid it because he was trying to keep the grasping cow sweet.

They had moved on to the Shalimar, where he had drunk too much to show off to his mates and their girlfriends, and now look at the result. Cara sighed. Mr Bendy was back in the saddle again.

Jonjo rolled off her. ‘Fuck it,’ he said. ‘Not in the mood.’

Maybe the blonde thing was getting to be a problem. He liked blondes, as a rule. He liked them dim and big-busted. Cara was all of that – fantastic tits and a brain bypass. Perfect. Maybe he ought to ring the changes, though, swear off blondes for a bit, try a brunette.

But then, look at what had happened to Max with that fucking Bailey slag. Jonjo was pleased that was all over, but Max was still fuming over the whole thing. It was making him edgy and eager for a ruck. Not a bad thing, really. There was this big heist in the offing now, and Jonjo was made up that Max was back.

So maybe not a brunette. Big thinkers, brunettes. They always seemed to have a plan and a way of squeezing your balls until they squeaked. No, the last thing he needed was pussy-whipping.

Maybe a redhead. He’d never had one of those. He thought of Orla Delaney – mad Irish bitch she
might be from a long line of mad Irish bitches, but she was a corker. Apparently as frigid as fuck, though, if the rumours were to be believed. Which was a bit of a drawback.

Maybe he’d stick to blondes. Like Cara. If they used her on the heist he would have to lay out the rules. Pay her well, that went without saying. But maybe also give her a light slapping and explain to her that the police might be scary but the firm was scarier. That they must never be mentioned, that if they could pin anything on her at all and it came to doing time, then she did it and was well looked after when she came out. Inside or out, though, she kept quiet. Because inside or out, they would know and they could get to her whenever they wanted. Or to her family, of course. There was always that.

He turned back to Cara, who was pouting prettily because he hadn’t come. Women. They always liked you to come. Took it as a deliberate affront if you didn’t. Christ, it must be nice to be a tart. Just lie there and let it happen, no worries about getting it up, no worries at all. He was trying, but he couldn’t get his mind off the job that was coming up. It was exciting. You couldn’t concentrate on your oats with a job like this on your mind, unless you were made of stone. Which reminded him. He was running late.

He reached over to his trouser pocket and pulled out a few sovs. He tossed them at Cara.

‘Get yourself a taxi home, there’s a love,’ he said, and got out of bed.

Cara sat up, indignant. ‘Is that it, then?’ she demanded.

And that was the other thing, they always wanted to talk after sex. If it went badly they wanted to pull it apart and find out why. If it went well – which usually thank God it did – they wanted you to stay awake for hours whispering sweet nothings in their little ears when all you wanted was to peg out for the night.

‘What do you want, “God Save the Queen” or something?’ asked Jonjo, covering his limp dick with his pants. ‘The evening’s over. I’ve got a meet to get to. Now shift your arse. I’ll phone you, okay?’ He dropped a kiss on to her rumpled hair. Keep her sweet. Maybe she’d be needed, maybe not. Hedge your bets.

‘And they say romance is dead,’ she grumbled, crawling out of bed and retrieving her undies from the floor.

Jonjo’s mind was already over at Queenie’s old place. The boys would be assembling there again, Max at the head of the table.

He hoped that sour-faced wife of Max’s wouldn’t be there. If there was one thing Jonjo hated it was a woman with a face like a smacked arse on her. He thought Max was far too soft with Ruthie. If she was
his
woman, Jonjo would have
kicked her straight up the puss by now. His sister-in-law didn’t seem able to make up her mind where she wanted to be. Sometimes she was at the old house, sometimes she was down in Surrey at the big posh place that was now on the market, talking to the estate agent and packing up all their belongings.
Jesus, what a pain in the backside she was
.

Max had confided to Jonjo that Ruthie was a bit too keen on the bottle. She was a loose cannon, Jonjo thought, rattling about the place, skinny as hell and ugly as fuck. At least Annie Bailey had a good set of knockers and a great arse on her.

Even if she was a brunette.

 Ruthie Carter was at the Surrey house and, despite the lateness of the hour, she was still up, wrapping things in paper and packing them into tea chests. Max had told her not to bother about the annexe, of course.
He
would see to that. Ruthie sneered to herself and took another pull of her voddy and tonic.

Blimey, this place was a size. She’d already completed the packing up downstairs, helped by Miss Arnott; now she was working her way through the bedrooms. This particular room had been Eddie’s. She didn’t mind being up here in Eddie’s room late at night on her own, with the Surrey night so still and dark all around her. Ruthie didn’t believe in ghosts. The dead wouldn’t hurt
you, she was sure of that. It was the bloody living you had to watch out for.

It was a bit sad to be sifting through his things, though. Eddie had been such a snappy dresser. His clothes were designer, and immaculately clean and cared for. Now what the hell would become of them? She piled all his shirts and trousers and stuff to one side ready for disposal. Unless Max wanted to keep them, but she couldn’t really see that happening. Of course he’d kept Queenie’s annexe just as it was on the night she’d died, maybe he’d want to build a shrine to his dead brother, too.

She shivered.

Clutching her drink, she went over to the dressing table where Eddie’s silver-backed brushes looked forlorn as if they were waiting for him to come back. Well, they’d have a bloody long wait. She pulled out the bottom drawer and yanked out the piles of vests and pants laid neatly in there, then moved on to the next large drawer up and found jumpers and a couple of waistcoats.

All that remained of a life
, she thought.

God, she was low today. Lower than usual, and that was saying something. She moved on to the smaller drawers at the top and opened the left-hand drawer to reveal a stack of brown bottles, every one full of the pills they had given Eddie before he died. Pills to ease the pain. Pills to clear infection. A fat lot of use they’d been. And pills
to make him sleep. Jesus, how she would love to sleep! Ruthie laughed and the sound was loud in the room. She jumped a bit and looked around, suddenly feeling nervous.

Maybe spirits did linger. Who knew? Maybe Eddie was right here with her now, showing her the way to go. She picked up one of the bottles of sleeping pills. It was full to the brim. She unscrewed the cap and shook a few into the palm of her hand. She raised her hand to her mouth. The taste on her tongue was slightly bitter, but the voddy and tonic washed it away.