Page 25

chapter twenty-five

Gabriella stopped at the grocer’s on her way home, buying ingredients for a nice dinner. She didn’t want to call James at the Yard, she didn’t feel comfortable doing that, so she made a meal for two, knowing he might not come by.

If he didn’t, she wouldn’t have to cook tomorrow night, which was fine, too.

But when at six there was a knock at her door, she smiled as she walked over and opened it.

“Hello, again.” The man from earlier, the one driving the black Mercedes, shoved her inside, locking the door behind him and putting the key in his pocket.

Gabriella backed away, adrenalin prickling under her skin at going from happy anticipation to cold fear. She edged around the table she had set for two, and saw the man’s glance land on the place settings.

“You’re expecting someone.” He looked over at the tiny kitchen, and gave a sniff. “Smells good.”

“They’re due at six,” she said, her voice wobbling a little. “That’s why I opened the door so quickly.”

He looked down at his watch. Grunted. “Then we’ll make this quick. I don’t like being messed around, so trust me when I say I have no patience for any more of your nonsense.”

“ My nonsense?” The fear gave way to outrage for a moment.

He stared at her. “You’re mouthy. I’m sure you’ve been told that before. Let’s just get through this, shall we?” He walked closer and placed his hands on the table, leaned over it. “Just tell me what house he came out of. That’s all. No mess, no fuss.”

“Why do you think you’re entitled to shove your way into my home and question me like this?” Gabriella was breathing fast, her chest tight, but she wanted to make sense of it.

“My business is looking up right now, love. The client that wants this information is my ticket to bigger things.” Mr. Mercedes clicked his tongue impatiently. “Now, which house?”

“You know the road I fined him on,” she said. “It would have been on the ticket.”

“Sorry, that won’t do. It’s is a long street. Too many houses and flats to investigate them all.” He narrowed his eyes, like she was testing him.

She felt her fear spike, her chest tighten. Because she couldn’t remember. She really couldn’t.

“I had my back turned to him. It was near the end of the road, just a few hundred yards from where it ends in a t-junction. He shouted at me from behind, and I turned, but I honestly don’t know which house he came out of.” She lifted both hands. She saw they were both shaking.

He hesitated. She knew the story sounded reasonable. It was almost the truth. She actually had noticed him coming down the path of a white Georgian townhouse, although she had no idea of the number, or could even point to the exact one, as there had been several in a row. She wasn’t about to send this thug to the wrong person’s door, that’s for sure.

“How far was he from you when you noticed him?” he asked.

“He was close enough that I heard him shouting, far enough that I couldn’t make out what he was saying,” she said.

He pulled out a London A-Z from his coat pocket, and she could see there was a bookmark sticking out of it. He flipped to the page, and turned the book to face her, setting it down on the table and jabbing a finger at the spot. “Give me the general area.”

She didn’t want to get closer, because he would be able to grab her, but she leaned forward a little. Hesitated.

“Show me, or I will become very unpleasant,” the man said. He glanced at his watch, and Gabriella flicked her own gaze to the old wall clock hanging in the kitchen.

Amazingly, only five minutes had passed.

A knock sounded at the door, light and friendly.

They both froze. Her eyes snapped to his face, but he was staring at the door. The knock came again, at the same time that she moved, edging around the table, and he panicked.

He lifted his arm and there was suddenly a gun at the end of it.

Gabriella had never had a gun pointed at her. Had she ever even seen a gun in real life, she wondered?

The thought seemed to come from some far away place.

She moved her gaze from the barrel to the man’s face. His lips had almost disappeared into his mouth, and his eyes couldn’t seem to stay still.

Up until now, he could have claimed she’d let him in to her flat, and they were just talking, but now, he had crossed a very big line.

“Gabby, you home?” It sounded like Jerome, although he never called her Gabby, only Gabriella. She had thought it was James.

The man held a finger to his lips. It shook a little. “Who?” he whispered.

“My neighbor,” she whispered back, terrified he was going to pull the trigger by mistake, out of nerves. “He’ll have seen my light is on.”

“Gabby?” Jerome knocked on the door again.

The man shook his head and made a zipping motion across his lips.

“Gabby, Mr. Rodney said you were hurt today. Are you all right? I’m worried.” Jerome knocked harder.

“Hurt?” the man frowned, voice very soft.

She held out her arm and lifted her sleeve, saw him dismiss the bruises with a shake of disbelief.

“Gabby, I’m worried you’re lying hurt. I’m going downstairs to Mr. Rodney to get his key to your place, I’ll be back.” Jerome shouted the words through the door, and then there was the sound of feet pounding down the stairs.

“Quick, show me the section of road, and I’ll be off.” He lifted the book and held it out to her.

She took it and tried not to look at the door, at the handle slowly turning. She got a little distance from him, moving toward the small kitchen cupboard. “Can I get a pencil to draw it in?” she asked softly.

“Quickly, and don’t make me take this up a notch,” he said, and the gun wobbled a little.

She made it to the drawer and pulled it open on a loud squeak, and at the same moment, the door swung open.

“Police.” James threw the door wide, and she saw his eyes widen in shock at the sight of the gun.

The man spun, but he didn’t forget where she was, either. He moved a few steps deeper into the room, where he could move the gun easily from her to James.

“Now how did she get the police here?” he asked.

“Miss Farnsworth’s boss put in a complaint about you with the Met this afternoon. I’m here to interview her. Part of the file contained your car’s registration number, and I saw your car parked outside. You were visible through her window from the street, and her neighbor gave me the spare key he keeps for her to let me in.” James spoke in an even, reasonable tone, but she saw when he stopped talking that his jaw was clenched tight.

“Bad luck.” The man shook his head, and she thought he muttered a few choice swearwords under his breath. “I don’t want this going any further. Get the neighbor in here, too.”

James turned. “Jerome, he’s got a gun. Please come in.”

Jerome peered in, saw the gun and swore. Stepped in with both hands held up in front of him.

“Go stand in the kitchen,” the man motioned with the gun, and Jerome came to stand beside her.

James began to move as well.

“Uh, uh.” The man shook his head. “You go stand right up against the wall over there.” He pointed with the gun. “I’m going to walk out of the flat, and you are not going to move, or someone might get badly hurt.”

James nodded, lifting his hands like Jerome, and did as he asked.

The man edged to the door, keeping them all in sight the whole way. He pulled out the key he’d pocketed when he’d locked himself inside with her, and with the gun still trained on them, slid it in to the outside lock.

Then he stepped out, slammed the door, and she heard the key turn.

“Damn,” she said, as James ran to the door and tried to put in the spare key. “That won’t work. Someone will have to pull the key out before we can unlock it from this side.”

James ran back to the sash window, and shoved the lower half up and leaned out. She and Jerome joined him, and saw the man run to his Mercedes and drive off.

“We thought we were so clever,” Jerome said, and he sounded disgusted.

“You were, though,” she said. If he hadn’t had a gun, it would have been masterful.

The ruse had worked beautifully. They had given the man the impression he had enough time to get his answer and leave before Jerome returned, and then they had quietly opened the door.

“I never thought for a moment he’d have a gun.” James turned to her, and she blinked at the harsh line of his mouth.

“How could you?” she asked. “He never even showed it to me until you two knocked on the door. I don’t think he wanted to use it.”

“Where did he even get it?” Jerome wondered.

“My guess is during the war. He’s old enough to have served.” James gave a sharp shake of his head. “He was the man from earlier today?”

“Yes.” She turned away from the view of the street and sat down on the deep window seat.

“When I saw the black Mercedes with some paint damage in the street, I guessed it was him.” James leaned against the window, hand in a tight fist.

“You were cooking dinner?” Jerome said, suddenly noticing the table.

“Yes.” She got to her feet.

“Who were you expecting?” James asked, also studying the table.

“You.” She shot him a look. “I thought it was you at the door, when he knocked.”

She went to the kitchen, got out another plate and cutlery, and set it on the table, ignoring the fact that her hands were shaking. “Help me move this to the window seat so we can all sit down. Unless you’ve eaten, Jerome?”

“No.” He looked bemused. “We’re having dinner?”

“Well, we’re stuck in here,” she said. “And dinner is ready.”

The two men exchanged a look and then lifted the table between them and set it down close enough for someone to use the window seat as a third chair.

“Sit,” she told them both. She dished pasta at the tiny kitchen counter and ladled sauce over it, sprinkled basil on top, and then carried it over. “Will you grate the parmesan?” she asked James, turning to fetch the grater and cheese.

He closed his hand gently around her forearm to stop her. “You all right?”

She lifted the back of her other hand to her cheek, and realized it was wet. “I’m all right.” She gave a slightly gurgling laugh. “Really. I’m fine.”

He let go of her, and she came back with her own bowl and the cheese. Took a seat.

“This looks good,” Jerome said. His words broke the tension and she flashed him a quick smile.

They started to eat, and she felt herself relax as a comfortable silence descended.

They had just finished when James turned at the sound of voices below.

“Solomon,” he called down from the open window.

“Hey, Mr. Detective.” Solomon stood below, looking up.

“We’re locked in Gabriella’s flat. Do you mind coming up and letting us out?” he asked.

“Now that’s a new one.” Solomon gave a chuckle as he headed inside, and Gabriella caught a murmur from someone who sounded like George.

The key turned in the lock moments later, and both men stepped inside, George looking around with interest. She realized it was his first time in her flat.

“Jerome?” Solomon must have expected it to be just the two of them. “What’s up, man?”

“Man with a gun locked us in, is what’s up.” Jerome said, head tilted.

There was silence, and Gabriella thought a lot was being exchanged between the two with not a word spoken.

“Not the green Jaguar man?” George asked.

Gabriella shook her head. “Connected, though. I think it was the private investigator he didn’t want me talking to. The one he said his wife hired.”

“And he came here, with a gun, to make you talk?” Solomon made a face and turned to James. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Now that I can leave the room without damaging Gabriella’s door, I’m off to find out his name and address off his car registration, and I’m going around to arrest him.” James shook his shoulders, as if loosening up before a fight.

“Need some help with that, man?” George asked, politely.

James hesitated, as if he was considering it. “Better not.”

“Pity.” George inclined his head.

James turned to her, and she thought he was uncomfortable with the audience they had. “Thank you for dinner.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be round tomorrow evening. I don’t think I’ll be able to come back at a decent enough time tonight.”

She gave a nod, and watched him grab his coat and disappear down the stairs.

“What car does this gun-toting man drive?” Solomon asked.

“A black Mercedes. It’s got a scratch on the side.” Gabriella couldn’t believe that that had happened just this morning.

“Number plate?” George asked.

She looked it up in her notes and told them.

“He comes here again, we’ll be ready,” Solomon said.

There was definitely some comfort to be taken in that.