Murder on the Hill (18 page)

Cordi was still snoring upstairs.

I vaguely remembered introducing her to Jägerbombs. Oh man, what a night. I smiled as I remember Cordi dancing to the rock music. She got a lot of attention from the skinny boys in their black jeans and tight T-shirts. I don’t think she’d ever been in a mosh pit before.

It made a change to have good memories from the night before. With the whole Ivanov issue, I really needed a night like that to let loose and get the tension and stress out.

While I let Cordi sleep, I investigated her kitchen, trying to find some painkillers to quell the goblin’s renovations, as well as sticking on the kettle.

I had decided some time ago that when I die, I’ll be embalmed in tea—like a British pharaoh.

I looked at myself in a mirror, checking my wounds. The bump on my forehead had gone down but had left a yellowing bruise around my eye.

Nothing a spot of foundation wouldn’t fix.

Eventually I found some painkillers and sat down at the table, taking two pills and drinking a pint of water while the kettle boiled. After making a pot of tea, I received a message on my cell phone. It was still in the pocket of the jeans Cordi had lent me—and that I was still wearing.

I’d have to brave the Victorian contraption she called a shower and wash off the sweat and alcohol that was trying to escape my body through my skin.

In the meantime, I checked my messages. It was from Cole and just said,
Outside, babe.

I walked to the front door and peered out. And there he was, standing there fresh as a daisy in a clean suit, his hair perfectly groomed, and his stubble perfectly shaved. My body ached for him as I stared at him like a hobo at a burger stand.

“You make me feel like a bum,” I said.

“Heavy night?”

“Do I look that bad?”

“Nothing a good scrub wouldn’t fix.”

And he had to go and give me that image of him rubbing me clean in the shower, his hands over my body all soapy and slick. My body reacted to the thoughts, and I squeezed my thighs together.

“It was a good one, though,” I said, changing the subject. “Cordi enjoyed herself.”

“I got the info I needed. Good work on that front.”

“About that,” I said, ushering him inside. “I found something out. Come in and have a cuppa and let me tell you all about it.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said with a smile as he entered, his gorgeous eyes fixing me with their inner light.

The woman across the street stood there watching us while smoking a cigarette. I waved to her, and like last time she just ignored me. Snooty cow.

We sat down at Cordi’s table, and I poured Cole a cup of tea.

“Thanks, babe,” he said before sipping from the cup. “That’s a grand cuppa. So, about the info last night.”

As I started to fill him in about Sean and Johnny and what they had said, he suddenly stood up, sliding the chair back. “What the hell?” Cole said, nearly spilling his tea.

A growling noise came from under the table.

“You got a lion under there?” he asked, a worried expression on his face.

Monty edged out from beneath the table to Cole, his fur all fluffed up and his ears flattened. He hissed and growled at Cole.

“Oh,” I said, “that’s just Monty.”

“What the hell is it?”

“Insurance.”

“What?”

“From Ivanov. He’s my backup plan. If all else fails, I’ll invite Ivanov around for tea and let Monty deal with him.” I laughed and got up, stepping beside the cat.

Kneeling down, I whispered to him, stroking his back. Soon his ears were up and his tail flickering, the growl turning to a purr.

“You sure know how to handle that cat,” Cole said.

I bet he wasn’t so bad himself. He could certainly make me purr, I was sure of it.

“He’s okay, just mistrusting of new people.”

“Well, I’ve not had a tetanus jab for a while, so if you could keep the beast calm, I’d appreciate it.”

I let the cat outside to avoid any potential injuries to Cole and filled him in on what I had learned from Sean and Johnny the night before.

“So,” I said, “about the auction tomorrow. Is it all still going to plan, given what we know about these two idiots trying to pull some kind of scam?”

“Yeah,” Cole said, sitting back down at the table. “The diamonds are irrelevant, really. It’s the money paid from the whole auction I’m interested in. The Nazi gold is just part of it, as are the diamonds, it seems. From the emails, I’ve figured out where and how the transactions will go through. It’s all in cash after the auction, so once we get it, you’ll be all set to do a runner. I’ll handle Ivanov, paying off your debt with the money. The only fallout will be between the buyers and sellers, but that’s not our concern.”

“I already said that I didn’t want to leave, and besides, where would I go?”

“Anywhere you like.”

I didn’t like this as an option. I’d come to like working with Cordi, and after the Bellman case, I’d have liked to learn all about her business and help her rebuild it. Especially as it seemed she’d have to sell the house in order to pay off Alex’s divorce settlement.

And then there was the whole issue of Ivanov and the diamonds.

I now knew almost certainly that whoever was selling them would also be the killer. Ivanov wanted the diamonds, which created a conflict of interests for me.

I could steal the diamonds at the auction to keep Ivanov happy but upsetting Cole’s plans, or I could follow through with the original idea and hope we come away with enough cash to pay off Ivanov and for me to help Cordi out if I were to leave and start afresh somewhere else. And in the meantime, hope there’s something or someone that will lead me to discover who’s putting up the diamonds.

And finally, there was Cole himself.

He hadn’t indicated any thoughts of coming with me. If he was staying here, then a part of me wanted to stay too. I had never told him how I felt about him; we’d had up until now a professional relationship.

But then I don’t think someone would have gone out on a limb like he had for someone who was just an acquaintance, or in our case a kind of colleague.

“If I did leave,” I said, “would you—”

“You’re leaving?” Cordi said with surprise.

I spun round to see her standing in the hallway and looking into the kitchen with an expression of horror on her face. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles, and her eyes were bloodshot—the effects of the Jägerbombs.

“I… no… Cordi, it’s not that, it’s just, oh god, this is all so difficult.”

“I thought you were happy working with me?” Cordi asked, stepping into the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of tea from the pot.

“I am,” I said. “I want to stay. It’s just if things don’t go well with the auction, then I might not have a choice. I don’t want you getting in trouble with Ivanov and his goons.”

“Too late for that,” she said, referring to the break-in. “Listen, Harley, I might seem like this old, innocent lady, and that’s probably true, but you’ve shown me a new side to life, and I want to help you. Besides, do you really want Alex and Ivanov to win? I say we go to that auction, you guys do what you do, and we’ll find the killer. We’ll break the case, get the reward and rub Alex’s face in it, and you’ll get Ivanov off your back. We can start again, relaunch the business.”

It was an impassioned speech, and I felt myself welling up with emotion. Here I had two people who truly cared for me. Dare I say it started to feel like some kind of weird, dysfunctional family.

“Okay,” I said. “It’s all come down to this, then. The auction is all or nothing. Let’s do it.” Cole, Cordi, and I raised our teacups and clinked them together.

“This is so exciting,” Cordi said and then winced. “Oh, I need some of those painkillers. What on earth was I drinking last night?”

“Pretty much everything,” I said. “You were quite the hit.”

“Oh dear, I didn’t make a fool of myself, did I?”

That’s when I remembered the photos on my phone.

We all sat around laughing at the gallery of images I had taken as we made our plans to attend the auction later in the day. We had about four hours to kill and used that time to strategize our approach. When we were done, I showered, sadly alone, and borrowed some more of Cordi’s clothes.

Cole drove us across London to the East End.

We found an abandoned industrial unit in the heart of Hackney where the auction was being held. Cole had navigated through a maze of narrow roads until we came to an open area. Lots of other cars were parked up, and various men and women were heading into a warehouse.

“Okay,” Cole said, getting out of the car. “This is it. Remember the plan. Stay calm and act natural.”

Cordi and I nodded and followed Cole toward the warehouse. Two large doormen in black suits stood either side of the door. Despite my experience of these things before, my hands trembled inside my pockets as we approached.

“It’ll be fine,” I said to Cordi.

She just nodded, too nervous to speak.

“Names,” the doorman said, looking at us, then referring to a clipboard.

I noticed he had a pistol within his jacket. I swallowed and tried to remember what Cole said we should say.

CHAPTER 21

The doorman just stared at me with a look that promised violence.

For a moment I thought he might recognise me. Cole and I had attended at least a dozen or more of these auctions over the years. But I was wearing one of Aunt Maggie’s wigs.

She had a whole bunch of them back at Cordi’s place in one of the many boxes. They were from some Hollywood film. This one was blond with wide curls. With appropriate makeup and a trim from Cordi, we managed to make it look quite modern.

I looked like the perfect trophy wife with red lipstick and heavy eyeshadow. Though I didn’t have the cleavage or the plastic tits like some of the women here. Still, I thought it was convincing enough.

“Johannson,” I said, finally remembering the name Cole had said he had put on the roster.

“Kessing,” Cordi added, cool as anything.

“Johannson,” Cole said, wearing sunglasses and a terrible leather jacket. He was usually so dapper the hope was he wouldn’t be immediately recognised. The fake beard helped too. As long as no one pulled on it.

This whole charade could crumble down in a single hair-related mishap.

I put my arm through his as I waited, giving the best wife impression I could. Cole felt good next to me. His hard, toned body fitted against mine so naturally I could see myself getting used to it.

The doorman looked down at his clipboard. It seemed to take forever. I thought about running or making some excuse that we’d come to the wrong place when he stepped aside and ushered us in.

I let out a quiet sigh of relief as we entered the dark warehouse.

“Told you not to worry,” Cole whispered. “I managed to get into the organiser’s system from that key logger data. Beats having to break in.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind dying of a heart attack,” I said. “You did good, though, Cordi.”

“Thanks.” She kept her hands in her jacket pocket. “That was even scarier than the office situation. I’m shaking like a leaf.”

“Just follow the plan and you’ll be fine,” Cole whispered.

He led us to a row of seats toward the rear of the warehouse.

A platform had been erected at one end. A proper auctioneer’s podium stood behind a mic stand. The place was cold, and people’s excited voices echoed around the large, empty space. It smelled of oil and rust.

Toward the back, large hulking metal machinery rose up to the large vaulted ceiling. A long conveyor belt ran the full length of the warehouse to the right-hand side. It was covered in dust and debris and broken things.

“What was this place?” I asked Cole.

“Munitions factory,” he said.

Great
. That didn’t bode well. It couldn’t have been a teddy bear factory or a marshmallow plant; no, it had to be something horrible and portentous.

Leaning into me and whispering so close to my ear I could feel his warm lips touch my skin, he said, “Immediately to your right, behind the conveyer belt, is the door I mentioned. In there is a corridor that leads to another room where the transactions will take place after the auction.”

My body shivered, partly because of the chill and partly because of Cole’s lips sending tiny electric shocks throughout my body. I tried to put out the image of what his lips could do in other areas and focussed on my job.

“How am I going to get in there unseen?” I asked, my own whisper barely audible.

“I’ll cause a distraction after the last auction’s completed. Trust me,” he said, his lips curling at the edges with that suave, confident way of his.

Cordi’s face was still like a corpse as she took in London’s criminal underworld. Anyone who was anyone was here. Cordi turned to face me and subtly nodded her head to the front left seats.

Following her gaze, my heart sank and a cold sweat broke out beneath the flimsy silk shirt I borrowed from Cordi’s stash. Sitting there, with his two goons, laughing with a deep rumble, was Ivanov.

I don’t know why I was surprised he was there. He must have heard on the same grapevine that Cole has access to that they would be up for auction. I just hoped that if he did win them, he’d pay a hefty price. And given that half of the stones were fake, that would be some sweet karma.

A small, wiry man with bulging eyes like a cross between a bush baby and Steve Buscemi stepped up to the podium. His hair was slicked back, and his pinstripe suit looked like something straight out of the sixties.

“Ladies, gentlemen, thanks for arriving on short notice. I won’t waste any time, as I’m sure you’re all eager to get on with the auction. We’ve got some especially high-end merchandise this afternoon, so I hope you’ve brought plenty of dough. Standard rules apply, no funny business, the house takes twenty percent, all weapons to be checked in before transactions. Right, you know how this goes down, so let me introduce the first item.”

A young girl stepped up to the podium. Probably a prostitute given the short leather skirt, knee-high screw-me boots, and a face that said,
I’m only doing this to avoid being shot and thrown in the Thames.