Downtown Girl (Lipstick Red #1) Page 9

  Chapter 10

  Taylor woke, feeling her exposed breasts chilled and tight with hard peaks, stimulated by the breeze from the open window. She slid the sheet covering her pelvis up to her chin, and smiled at the memory of the night before. She curled round lazily, bringing her knees up to her chest, before stretching and patting the pillow beside her, disappointed. David had gone.

  She thought she’d set her alarm before they went to bed, but she’d either got that wrong, or David had switched it off when he got up. It was nearly lunch time and she’d slept for hours. What he’d said played on her mind. He could stay like that with her forever. She hugged herself tight. She could think of nothing better. A few days ago, she’d have run from him, but now she was thinking about planning a future with him. The sensible part of her brain tried to kick in, but she pushed it aside.

  ‘Grab happiness while you can,’ her grandmother used to say, ‘because you’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll be too late.’ She still missed her grandmother, even after five years. They’d always been close and Taylor had been devastated one summer day when she’d visited, only to find her lying on the floor in a puddle of congealed blood. Taylor was comforted when the post mortem showed she’d died almost instantly when her head hit the fireplace.

  She’d slipped while trying to hang a new picture on the wall. It was an old one from her youth, as a twenty something, on the arm of a local gangster who was both admired and feared. When Taylor first saw that picture as a teenager, she’d been shocked. She couldn’t understand why her grandmother would have fallen for such a seedy character. Now, she understood completely, and suspected that the gangster in the picture was actually her grandfather. The dapper young man had turned Mae’s head into mush, and she’d fallen hook, line and sinker for him. Taylor wished she’d found out how it ended. She’d look up his story when she got back to America.

  Mae might have been fifty five years older than Taylor, but she’d had an adventurous life. Pictures lined her walls of a daring woman on horseback, riding through rough terrain, with the wind in her hair. She’d been married twice and lived life to the full, enjoying every opportunity that came her way, and getting more adventurous as she grew older. She’d been more sexually pro-active than Taylor. If the term Cougar had been invented when Mae Griffiths was in her prime, she’d have worn it with pride.

  Good on you gran, she thought. Taylor’s attraction to David, finally allowed her to understand, that her grandmother had lived a good and happy life, not the seedy one that other people accused her of.

  Sliding out of bed, she pulled on an old t-shirt and faded denim shorts, then padded to the kitchen for a much needed coffee. She found his note waiting for her on the table.

  Emergency at work. Will call later. Didn’t like to wake you as you slept so beautifully. Dinner tonight if you’re free.

  David x

  She hugged the note, skipping like a little girl who’d just been bought a much treasured toy. He’d signed his name with a kiss. She’d have to cancel dinner with him if Amber flew in, but they could see each other another night.

  Her phone pinged with a new message. She’d slept through about a dozen already, so glanced at the last two first, both from Amber.

  ‘Did you get my messages? Caught the earlier flight.’

  ‘Where are you? Landing in two hours. Are you still ok to pick me up, or are you in the middle of a smoking spankathon?’

  Two flaming hours! That was no time at all to get to Heathrow. She’d have to use the tube. There was no way Amber would enjoy that on the way back to the flat. Her fingers flew over the tiny phone keyboard.

  ‘Bog off. Should never have asked you about spanking!! See you at Heathrow! Wine for lunch?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to ask about the wine…’

  ###

  Taylor’s phone rang as she took her seat on the busy tube to Heathrow. Frowning, she wondered whether to ignore it. She’d been sacked, so there was no reason for Kevin to call her.

  ‘Taylor Griffiths,’ she said hesitantly into the phone.

  ‘I should bloody think so. Where have you been?’ Kevin growled down the line. For someone who’s usually so amenable, she sensed his rising anger.

  ‘It doesn’t matter now. I’ve been sacked.’

  ‘Of course it matters. Who sacked you?’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’ she replied, totally taken aback that her indiscretion hadn’t been shared with the office.

  ‘Enlighten me. The day has gone from bad to worse, and it’s not even half over.’ His sarcasm caused her brows to knit together.

  ‘Jack Collins.’

  His explosion down the phone took her by surprise. ‘How? What the hell is he thinking? I’ll get that sorted today!’

  She couldn’t tell him about Jack. About how close she’d come to danger. She never wanted to see Jack again. Whispering quietly down the phone, she made her decision.

  ‘It’s over Kevin. I’m finished at Willgox. I won’t be back.’ She pressed the end call button, cutting him off in mid sentence. It was time to move forward. She wouldn’t help them dig up information about Alan Inglebrook, or David Burton for that matter.

  Kevin rang twice more before she banned his number. If she spoke to Kevin for too long, she knew she’d end up telling him about Jack, David and Alan. She wouldn’t do that willingly.

  She’d been daydreaming and not watching the arrivals board. ‘Over here!’ Taylor shouted, waving her arm madly when she spotted Amber leave the customs exit, in a bright red coat with purple spots. Just typical of Amber. She looked like a hyena in a bloodbath. She’d waited over an hour for the plane to arrive, and her nerves had grown by the second.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ Amber flashed her a massive grin as she leaned in to hug her tightly. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘You’ll never guess,’ Amber flushed red as she grabbed Taylor by the shoulders and enveloped her in another huge hug.

  ‘Guess what?’ Taylor queried as they collected her case and waited for the tube.

  ‘Jack Collins is taking me out tonight.’ Amber flushed with excitement as Taylor felt goosebumps raise on her arms. ‘I had to say yes, or I’d have had to pay for my own ticket.’

  ‘Shit Amber, he’s married!’ Taylor’s heart constricted. Jack Collins was playing with her. ‘Don’t meet him. Please.’ she took Amber’s hand in hers, her eyes locked on her best friend. ‘He’s bad news.’

  Taylor began to panic under her calm exterior. Jesus, what have I done? Amber was here, vulnerable, and Jack Collins was going to use her to make a point. Amber didn’t know him. She’d no idea what he was capable of. Through foggy ears, she heard Amber begin to speak as the air began to turn fuzzy around her eyes.

  ‘I owe him an explanation at least, for why I don’t turn up to work tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t owe him anything.’ Taylor shouted, forcing the descending grey mist from her eyes. ‘He pinned me up against a wall, so I kneed him in the balls. That’s why I lost my job, and you got offered it!’

  Amber’s eyes widened as her nostrils flared. Taylor pursed her lips as she considered Amber’s inappropriate response. She’d warned Amber. There was nothing more she could do to keep her from meeting Jack Collins. Amber’s face changed in a matter of seconds, from a disbelieving scowl with narrowed eyes, to the happy go lucky girl she knew. She hoped she’d done enough.

  ‘You’ll have to cancel him tonight. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’

  ‘The spankathon man?’ Amber giggled like a schoolgirl. Her momentary spark of anger diffused almost instantaneously.

  ###

  Pulling Amber into her favorite wine bar, she ordered two large glasses of white, as Amber quickly sent a text. Taylor had called David and left three messages this afternoon. He hadn’t messaged back, which was unusual and unexpected. He’d been meticulously predictable in the last few days.

  ‘Just as well I’ve blown off the talented Mr Collins isn’t it?
We couldn’t have you drinking alone, with Mr Spanky going awol.’ She lifted her hands to make inverted commas with her fingers in the air.

  Taylor unreasonably wanted to slap her for being so insensitive. She wondered if Amber had always been so blaze, or if six months in London had made the old Taylor grow up. It was going to be a long week. She was almost grateful when a group of youthful investment bankers idled up and monopolized the conversation. It gave her an excuse to pull out her phone and anxiously try David again. Amber was the centre of attention with her short black skirt that floated as she walked, teamed with a sheer royal blue chiffon top that hugged her pert breasts. She’d been born with a body to die for, and she knew it.

  Taylor touched Amber on the shoulder. ‘I’m going to the rest room, I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  ‘Take your time,’ she drawled. ‘Look at these guys, they’re hot. Which one will I go for?’ Taylor rolled her eyes and left Amber to giggle and flash her shapely thighs. She couldn’t get up to much in a public wine bar with dozens of people milling around.

  Sitting in a toilet cubicle, she tried to ignore the noise of the music, texting David worriedly. ‘Where are you? Answer your phone, please!’ She was met with silence, again. She dialed his number, only to get his answering machine. She hadn’t even asked which hotel he was staying at. She considered getting out a phone book and starting on the hotel section, under the letter A, but her head hurt as she blinked away the heavy feeling that descended over her eyelids.

  ‘Jesus, Taylor, are you there?’ a shouting Amber called through, banging on each cubicle in turn. Taylor opened the door, her cheeks stained with black streaks, where the tears had run rivers of mascara.

  ‘What?’ she asked miserably. She was sure she’d been discarded like a wet rag after he’d got what he wanted.

  Grabbing her hand, Amber pulled her through to the lounge. Her legs felt stiff, as if they were carrying lead weights. It was quieter in the lounge where Amber had gone to chat to the investment banker of her choice. She stared at the gigantic TV screen dominating one wall, as the rolling news flashed images of David.

  Feeling her legs begin to wobble, she leaned against a table for support. Her mouth dried as she tried to swallow and listened to the commentator.

  Lindy Collins, wife of legal high flier, Jack Collins, was found dead this morning at 11.30. She was found by her housekeeper, who was concerned that she’d failed to show for her regular breakfast meeting. Rumors state that she was strangled by her own lingerie. Sources confirm the arrest for her murder, of David Burton, her ex-boyfriend, entrepreneur and former gang leader, along with accused accomplice, Stephen Collins, estranged brother of the victim’s husband.

  Taylor’s legs buckled as the room went black, and she slid to the floor. Conscious of arms lifting her, she couldn’t pull herself out of the fog around her brain. She knew instantly that she’d been drugged, and her heart ached to think that Amber might have done it.

  Chapter 11

  David Burton had almost skipped from Taylor’s apartment. For the first time in years, he’d found someone he wanted to be with. If she felt the same, he’d consider moving her in with him. Years ago, he’d decided never to let anyone get under his skin again, but she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. Even Lindy could never have matched up to Taylor.

  Simply looking at her was enough to send shivers racing through his body. At first, he’d thought it was lust. He tried to tell himself that he only wanted her body, but when she’d come running to him when she thought he might have died in the sea, his heart had melted. She’d cared, and it had awakened a protective instinct in him. One that he didn’t want to lose.

  He’d planned to stay at her flat, but Stephen had used the emergency number to leave him a message, and as much as he hated leaving her, there was nothing he could do about it. Stephen wouldn’t have called unless it was urgent.

  When he left Taylor’s building, he called Stephen. His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke. Nerve endings spiked in David’s body as he instantly sensed danger.

  ‘The police are here. They’re taking the place apart. What the fuck’s going on?’

  ‘Damned if I know. On my way.’

  David still had the apartment he’d had for years. When he’d made it in Leeds, he’d bought it out of nostalgia, along with the one next door, even though it was in a rough area. Over the last decade, the area had been upgraded, improved and modernized. His apartment might be double the size it used to be, but it cost him next to nothing. It was worth an absolute fortune. He and Stephen used it as a crash pad in London, and the neighbors had no idea who he was. It was a world away from the seedy rental it had been when he’d lived in it as a youth.

  ###

  Walking past police officers at the front of his building, he took the stairs two at a time, racing to his door, convinced it would be a case of mistaken identity at worst.

  ‘David Burton?’ a plain clothes detective asked, flashing his badge for identity.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’ David asked, sure it would be a mistake, yet the hair stood up on the back of his neck as he watched an officer sweep a pile of books off his desk with an outstretched arm, deliberately trying to provoke him.

  His arms were spun round while he was pushed up against the wall, his right hand twisted up his back, his face trapped, with the officer locking his wrists in handcuffs behind his back. The detective grunted words into his ear.

  ‘David Burton, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Lindy Collins. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  Glancing over, David saw Stephen handcuffed and read the same rights by a different detective. David knew not to fight, or he’d look instantly guilty. Stephen struggled with his handcuffs, uselessly trying to pull them off. David’s years in the gang had taught him how to react when you were arrested.

  Spun around, David felt the crack across his cheek. Unable to defend himself, he lowered his head while keeping his eyes on his attacker. They’d broken protocol by not asking him any basic questions, but this wasn’t the place to argue. He wondered if the detective had ever been in an opposing gang. He couldn’t think of any other reason for such a rough arrest. His pockets were emptied and his phone confiscated, while he could only watch.

  Yanked down the stairs, David hung his head as a neighbor passed him on the way up, his face white with embarrassment. Clenching his fists behind his back, he felt the muscle in his jaw tighten. Thrown mercilessly into the back of a police car, the doors were slammed shut, leaving him alone. It gave him time to think.

  Fuck. Lindy was dead. He hadn’t seen that coming. Even though he’d discounted any possibility of being a murder target, he instantly knew that whoever was killing off his old gang, had decided to set him up for the murder. He knew it would raise too many questions to kill a wealthy man, but framing him for murder was the perfect revenge. He’d been too complacent, too wrapped up in his own world to see the danger.

  Seething, he remained calm and silent, as he’d learned to do as a youth. He’d keep his opinions for official questioning. The plain clothes detective and the uniformed officer took their places as he was booked into a holding cell at the police station. His heart sank at being back in a small square space that he hoped he’d never see again.

  He’d been told of his right to contact a solicitor, and have someone informed of where he was. He’d chosen a friend in Leeds as his lawyer, and waived his right to inform anyone else. Taylor would have seen the news of his arrest. His heart lurched as he considered how she would feel when she heard, thinking he was guilty. It was almost laughable when they removed his belt and laces. As if he was a danger to himself.

  His door opened quicker than he expected. He thought they’d make him sweat it out first. ‘Interview,’ was all the burly sergeant said, as David was led to a
small room with three chairs, and a desk with a tape recorder. The questions came thick and fast. David knew his rights.

  ‘Where were you last night from nine pm onwards?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘When did you last see Lindy Collins?’

  ‘No comment.’

  He kept up the non-co-operative answers for nearly an hour. An officer was replaced by a smiling detective with a different agenda.

  ‘This is your chance to tell your side of the story. We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.’

  ‘No comment.’

  David looked him straight in the eye. He wanted to know what happened to Lindy, but he knew this wasn’t the time or the place. As a young gang member, he’d had it drilled into him that police officers were only looking for evidence to convict in initial interviews. They’d ignore anything that might help, and focus on something they could use against him. He’d save his evidence for the court, when he had legal representation.

  Exasperated, the first detective ended the interview and walked him back to his cell. ‘You’re an idiot,’ he hissed into David’s ear. David ignored the bait meant to provoke a reaction and quietly took his place in the cell, challenging the officer with his eyes.

  ###

  The sun was setting outside. David knew that meant he’d been locked up for at least six hours or more. They hadn’t even mentioned how or where Lindy had died. He’d been tempted to ask, but he knew better.

  The cell door opened and he was summoned once again. Prepared for another interview, he was surprised when he was led to a meeting room and directed to a chair, while his feet were shackled to the floor. If his Leeds lawyer had been summoned, there would have been no need to shackle him. Something else was going on.

  When the door opened, he instantly knew why. Jack Collins breezed into the room, smelling of body wash and clean air, immaculately dressed in a navy pinstripe suit.