Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (91 page)

“This Linda, did she manage to scratch the bastard at all?” Tony asked.

Lorne started stacking the plates and took them over to the sink. “Nope. He tied her hands behind her back. Another reason why I think the police will also have their hands tied—excuse the pun. Anyone want some ice cream?”

“Not for me, love,” her father said. “I’m thinking this guy has raped before.”

Lorne nodded at her father. “I came to the same conclusion, Dad. To me, it sounded all planned out. From the innocent nod and joke sharing with the bouncer to being enticed to his home and being dumped back at the alley. I’ll see what I can dig up on this Graham Gibson later. The police paid him a visit yesterday. When I last spoke to them, the girls had no idea of the outcome. I’ll ring Fiona tomorrow to see what they had to say, if anything.”

She took two dessert bowls from the cupboard and scooped two dollops of chocolate chip ice cream into each of them.

Tony took his bowl from Lorne. “I’ll help later with the checking. Maybe—just maybe—if the coppers come up blank, we could make this our first case.”

“You read my mind, although I haven’t discussed it with the girls yet. Not sure they would be able to afford our fees.”

Tony contemplated Lorne’s words for a few minutes as he ate the ice cream on his spoon. “You could always do it pro bono. You know, to get you—or us, I should say—into the swing of things.”

She looked over at her father for his opinion. He was nodding. “I’d do the same, if the police come back and say they’re not willing to pursue the matter. Who’s to say how many women he’s raped? It has to stop or be stopped.”

“Agreed. I’ll be in the lounge, scouring the Internet for dirt on this Graham Gibson.” Lorne rose from the table and walked towards the door.

“Umm… Aren’t you forgetting something, dear wifey?”

She turned to face him and followed his gaze over to the pile of unwashed dishes. She pouted, and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “If you really and truly loved me, you would wash up while I got on with some real work. It’s only a tiny bit.”

Tony tutted. “Go on with you. I’ll join in a little while, once I’ve done your chores.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she called over her shoulder.

She opened the laptop on the coffee table and booted it up. A picture of Charlie cuddling Henry filled the screen. Lorne blew her daughter a kiss. “See you at the weekend, darling.”

Once the computer had gone through the motions of starting up, Lorne typed “Graham Gibson” in the search engine. Several possible options appeared, but the girls had told her that the GG she was after worked in the city. She ran the pointer down the screen and located him. She selected his details and was taken to another screen.

Lorne enlarged the personal photo and studied it for a few minutes. Clean-shaven, close-cropped hair, looked like a model in one of those swanky aftershave ads off the TV, and dressed to impress in a beautifully cut business suit. His bottle green eyes sparkled with laughter, or was that mischievousness? Lorne had to admit that he didn’t look like a rapist—but then, who did? It wasn’t as if those guys ran around with the term rapist tattooed on their foreheads.

Wearing an arrogant sultry look and sporting perfect, blemish-free skin that screamed he religiously moisturised every morning and night, GG reminded her of a darker version of the footballer David Beckham. A shudder ran through her as she focused on his eyes, eyes that were purposefully angled so that he appeared to be looking through her and into her soul.

“There’s something about you I don’t like, sonny. Let’s see what else we have on you.” She tapped through another link highlighted on the screen, and it took her to the webpage of Domino Finances. At the top of the screen was a group photo of all the employees, and surprise, surprise: GG was posing in the centre at the front, a female colleague on either side of him.

Further investigation into Domino Finances led Lorne to a page full of satisfied customers singing their praises and a headline stating: “During troubled times, Domino Finances comes out on top for safe-guarding your money.”

“How’s it going?”

Lorne looked up and shrugged as Tony placed mugs of coffee on the table.

He sat on the couch beside her and she angled the computer so they could both see the screen.

“Have you come across this firm before?” Lorne asked.

“Can’t say I have. That’s a pretty impressive pedigree they have there, though. Their list of clients reads like a who’s who of the finance world.”

Lorne went back a few pages and showed Tony the picture she had found of GG.

“Is that him?” Tony scrutinised the picture through narrowed, untrusting eyes.

“Yeah, that’s him. You should’ve seen what he did to Linda. In one way, I hope the police aren’t able to proceed further, because I’d love to bring the smug-looking bastard to justice, myself.”

Tony leaned over and kissed her temple. “Really? You do surprise me. Your paperweights have been lacking new additions lately. His balls would make a handsome addition.”

Lorne smiled and returned to searching the Internet for anything dubious on the suspect, but unfortunately the results came back blank. “Damn, this guy looks cleaner than polished silver.”

“Why don’t you call it a day? Wait until you hear back from the girls and Katy, and then go from there, huh?” He pulled her back and slung a lazy arm over her shoulder.

“I guess that makes sense. If I don’t hear from Fiona by noon tomorrow, I’ll give her a call and tell her I’ve decided to place Blackie with them for a trial period. I’m sure they won’t argue with that. Actually, after seeing what GG looks like, I’d feel much more comfortable if Blackie was there with them. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything further happened to either one of them.”

Tony squeezed her shoulder. “The trouble with you is you have a soft centre. I know you want to take on the world and right all the wrongs in it, Lorne, but sometimes—just sometimes—even superheroes have to take a day off.”

Their lips met in a lingering kiss.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she asked, interlocking her fingers with his.

“Not since this morning, no.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lorne was busy completing the paperwork she had started the day before when the house phone rang. “Hello?”

“Is that Lorne?”

She recognised the voice immediately. “Fiona?”

The woman sounded downhearted and sighed heavily. “I’m just ringing up to let you know that the police told us that they won’t be taking any action against Graham Gibson.”

Lorne thought as much. Not enough evidence. “Damn, I’m very sorry to hear that, Fiona. No point in me asking how Linda has taken the news.”

“She’s crumbled. Gone into her shell, and I’m not sure what I can do to snap her out of it.”

“So what happens next?” Lorne asked, tidying some of the papers in front of her.

“I don’t know. Is it so awful of me to want to stalk this guy and get revenge?”

“No. It’s completely understandable, just not advisable. I do have a suggestion, though.”

Fiona sighed on the other end of the line then said, “I’m listening.”

“On the drive home I did a lot of thinking. Is it possible for me to bring Blackie over to meet the other girls, and we’ll go from there?”

“Are you kidding? That’d be great, Lorne. I’d be so grateful to you.” And she sounded it, too.

“That’s only the beginning of what I have in store for you all. Will you all be at home today?”

Fiona remained quiet as she thought. “The only person I’m not sure about is Ami. Can you stay on the line while I text her?”

“Of course. I need to be sure Blackie feels at ease with you all, and vice versa.”

Lorne heard the sound of Fiona’s phone beeping an incoming text.

“Here she is. She’ll be home at six this evening. Is that too late for you?”

It was really, after having to get up before the cock crowed, but Lorne didn’t tell Fiona that. “That’s fine. I’ll bring Blackie, and we’ll see how things go. Don’t buy any food or anything like that. I’ll supply what he needs for the next few days, just in case things don’t work out.”

“Are you sure? You really are too kind.”

Lorne smiled as if Fiona was in the room with her. You think that’s going to be the extent of my kindness? “We’ll see you later. Give my regards to Linda, and tell her to keep her chin pointing upwards.”

Lorne hung up and went in search of Tony. She found him with an axe trying to cut down the tree he’d started to annihilate the day before. By the look of things, the tree seemed to be fighting back. He had numerous scratches across the back of his hands and a raised red mark, approximately three inches long, on his left cheek.

“Baby, what happened?” She gently ran her finger down his cheek.

“This darn thing just doesn’t want to come out. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a lumberjack.”

“Let’s get someone in. I wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours to get all mashed up by the nasty tree.” Tony already had a few scars on his face from his time as an agent. When they had first met, he had a pronounced, ugly scar on his right cheek, which had drawn her eye. That particular scar had faded well over the few years she had known him. But that was nothing to the permanent scars the Taliban had left him with on his chest and stomach. The Taliban had been brutal when they had tortured him, publicly flogging his front instead of his back. The bastards were always trying to figure out ways of upping the pain they dished out to their victims.

“We’ll see. Maybe if the PI business takes off, we can consider hiring a full-time handyman, because I sense that all this land is going to be a full-time job to look after in itself.”

“We’ll see. Not regretting buying this place, are you?”

Tony mimicked the way her mouth had turned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll be fine once I can get the hedges trimmed back. What’s up, anyway? You’re not your usual chirpy self.”

“Fiona just rang. The police aren’t interested in Linda’s case.”

“We thought that would happen. Did you tell her what your intentions were?” he asked, leaning on the axe in front of him.

“No. I’d like to see their faces when I do that. I just wanted to check if you had any plans for this evening. Only I said I’d drop Blackie off around six. I’d like to stay there a little while to help settle him in and talk over the PI aspect with the girls. That’d mean either an early or late dinner for you and Dad.”

Tony shrugged. “Suits me. You could pick up fish and chips from the chippie on the way home.”

She laughed. “You better get cracking and start burning off some excess calories, then.”

Lorne spent the rest of the afternoon exercising the dogs, cleaning out the kennels, and gathering Blackie’s food, bowls, and a selection of toys, getting him ready for his temporary home.

At five thirty, she and Blackie set off in the van to the girls’ flat. She observed the dog in her rear-view mirror. He was panting excitedly, happy to be out of his kennel and eager to get to their destination. As she got the dog out of the van she said, “You’ll be good, Blackie. For a few days, at least. Maybe longer, who knows?”

Lorne pushed the buzzer.

Fiona opened the door. The first thing she did was to crouch down and give Blackie some fuss, which was good to see, from Lorne’s point of view. One down, two more to go.

Lorne handed the leash to Fiona and closed the front door behind her.

Linda approached the dog with a tiny bit of trepidation, but once the dog licked at the sores on her face, she fell in love with him.

Ami, however, was a different story altogether. Whether it was a cultural issue or something else, Lorne wasn’t entirely sure. Didn’t they eat dogs in China? Only that morning, Lorne had received a Facebook message from Charlie, urging her to sign a petition to put a stop to the fur farms in China, where the poor creatures lived their whole lives in cages and were skinned alive, then dumped on a heap to die the most horrific of deaths.

She shook the sickening image from her mind and continued to watch Ami’s interaction—or lack thereof—with Blackie.

Fiona prompted Ami to stroke Blackie. “Go on, Ami. He won’t hurt you.”

Lorne wasn’t keen on the idea of Ami being forced into something she didn’t want to do. She walked over to stand beside Ami and beckoned the dog. She felt and sensed the fear emanating from the young woman. “Ami, can you look at me? It’s obvious you’re scared of Blackie. Give me your hands.”

Ami looked at Lorne as if she had just escaped the local asylum.

Lorne smiled reassuringly as the other woman placed her hands lightly in hers. “Good. Now copy me. Breathe in deeply, and let it out extra slowly. Keep your gaze locked on mine.”

Ami did as instructed. The intense anxiety the woman had been suffering from visibly slipped away.

That was, it slipped away until Blackie jumped up and hooked his paws over their arms. Ami squealed and ran to the sofa. Lorne hooked her fingers through Blackie’s collar to prevent him from chasing Ami.

Fiona gave Lorne a look that asked ‘How do we overcome that?’