I scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like I was gonna hang about so you could dish out club vengeance on the say-so of someone related to the dead guy. I don’t think so. Pardon me for not having a death wish, Ledge.” Fuck my life, but I wasn’t moving from this coffee shop until I either got a lift, or the staff kicked me out. I did not feel safe.
They both stared at me, with identical expressions of confusion. I held up a hand for them to give me a minute.
Something was circling in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t be rushed. I needed to work it out. “Who else told you the knife had my prints on it?”
“None of your business.”
“Just Stanno.”
They both spoke at once. I seized on what Razor said. “Stanno, who told everyone he was in Portugal, claims to have seen this knife and identified my fingerprints? The same fingerprintsIcouldn’t even pick out of a lineup even though they’re attached to me? How the fuck would he know what to do anyway? You don’t magically get the skills from binge-watching detective shows.”
“Stanno was in Portugal.”
“Was he though? And who did he tell about the knife? You, the rest of the club, the police?” A feeling of dread curled in my gut, low and sneaky like a snake waiting to strike. I’d liked Stanno. Thought we got on pretty well.
Ledge’s sour expression soured a degree more. He wasn’t the sparkliest bulb in the disco, but — and I hated to admit this — he wasn’t entirely without brains or morals. He was just really fucking homophobic. I had the ominous feeling his hatred of who I was might have clouded his judgment — a lot.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, and looked weary. When he spoke, he addressed me and Razor. “Stanno was the one who called me to tell me Chip was dead. I don’t even know for sure therewasa knife.Wedoknow Chip was stabbed though. I think we need to do some checking up about Stanno’s claim to be in Portugal.”
Razor gave a terse nod. “Perhaps the rozzers need to know.”
“I should fucking say so!” They both glared at me. “Look, I appreciate nobody from the club seems to have mentioned my name to the cops, and if my prints are the only set on the murder weapon, I’m not running to turn myself in, especially as I have a watertight alibi.”Please be foolproof at your job, Baxter.“But someone wanted Chip dead.” The hamster wheel in my mind turned a bit faster. “Could Stanno have been compromised, or embarrassed by Chip or something? About him being gay even? They are related, aren’t they?”
“They really are?” Razor snapped at me, and I jolted back in my seat, nodding frantically. He shook his head in a conciliatory gesture. “How?”
“I dunno. Nephew, or cousin. Nephew, I think. Why?”
“Stanno’d been on a warning already, for some turf wars that got out of hand.” When I made an impatient ‘go on’ wave of my hand, he continued. “One of our…side businesses.”
Ah, drugs, what a shock — not. “You think Chip threatened to dob him in?”
Ledge snorted. “Christ, you’re naïve. Hardly. He was one of my top earners.” His top lip curled so much, it was in danger of becoming a third eyebrow. “Which is why it pains me to know he was a—Like you,” he finished.
“Charming and sexy? Why thank you, Ledge.” I was rapidly losing my fear of this oaf. I rolled my eyes when he snarled. “Oh get over yourself. You don’t want me anywhere near your private parts, and the feeling’s mutual. But we both want to know how Chip died, and why.” I had their attention now. “If it wasn’t me, and believe me, if it was, I wouldn’t be brave or dumb enough to come back here, then it had to be someone with something to gain. If Chip was cutting into Stanno’s turf, or alternatively, Stanno’s a bigoted cunt who couldn’t bear the shame of ahomosexualin the family, what better plan than to rabbit on about his upcoming vacay in the sunny Algarve, then not actually go. If he’d been booked anyway, which none of us knows.”
Razor grimaced. “Actually, we do. Look, he updated his Instagram loads.”
“Let me see?” He passed his phone to me, and I scrolled through Stanno’s account. “Nah, see, this is bullshit. None of these places has a location tag. He could be standing in front of a travel agent’s window display in a couple of these.” I scrolled a bit further. “There’s a couple of his wife, but she could’ve sent them to him.” I stared a bit closer. “Fucking hell, I think I saw this place on TOWIE. I’ll eat my favourite shirt if that’s a Portuguese night club.” I tapped the screen.
Ledge shot me a look of grudging admiration. “Seriously?”
I held up the phone. “Bit suss when every other single shot he’s posted, going back, lemme see…” I kept scrolling. “…years, has a location. Don’t you think?” I slid the device across the table, and slithered out of the booth. “I need a piss. Mine’s a latte when you get the next round in, ta.”
I took ages in the bogs, mostly to splash cold water on my face, and convince myself I wasn’t a dead man walking for suggesting Stanno was somehow involved in Chip’s demise. When I couldn’t delay any longer without potentially incurring more homophobic shit about what I might have been doing in there, because I doubted Ledge had even got started with the abuse, I returned to the table. Sadly, there was no fresh coffee. I mentally pouted, but kept my thoughts to myself.
Ledge eyed me with what might have been a tad less hostility than he had earlier. He opened his mouth a fraction to mutter, “I guess we’ll take this to the rozzers. Good call.”
I clasped my hands to my chest. “I’m lost for words at your high praise.” Truthfully, I was astounded.
“Don’t get used to it,” he snapped. “You’re still a filthy cocksucker. Don’t forget, you know fuck all about Wyvern business other than The Dive, and The Lion.” He scraped the chair legs as he stood, and their screech on the tiled floor hurt my ears. Razor copied him. Ledge took two strides towards the door, and turned back. He pointed his forefinger and middle finger at his eyes, then directed them at me.I’m watching you.
In a last defiant hurrah before my heart threatened to give out, I blew him a kiss.
38
CHARLEY
Phone sex wasn’t nearly asmuch fun as I’d thought it would be. Luc seemed to struggle with it too, and although we both came, it felt contrived and stilted. I hoped it was due to the strain of waiting to see what happened next, rather than any problem between us. At least my phone had behaved so I could speak to him, and see him, which after three entire days without him by my side, was what I craved even more than an orgasm. I lay on my bed later that night, replaying our conversation over and over, extracting his warm words, the heat in his eyes when he’d told me he loved me, and storing them away in a little corner of my brain I labelled ‘Luc’. Just Luc. Nothing fancy. I didn’t need fancy if I had him, I realised. Would I mind some pampering and a bit of luxury? Course not. But what I needed, craved, was the scent of his skin surrounding me, his limbs entwined with mine, and his heart beating where I could hear it.
