Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. (28 page)

She stepped out into the plushly-carpeted and wood-paneled lobby. Only one door led off. The key was visible in the palm pot. She turned it silently in the lock and replaced it in her pocket. The heavy door swung open. The apartment was massive. A thick deep-blue carpet ran along a wide corridor. At the far end a door was open and led into a room with a floor to ceiling glass window. The air was filled with wonderful perfume. She held her breath and listened. The unmistakable sounds of sexual pleasure caught her ear. She moved towards the source. She could tell it was Jasmine. Even in lust her voice was shrill and somehow posh. She crept along the corridor. She was in the room with the open door. Through the window she saw a panoramic view of the O2 Arena and the River Thames. She peeped into the room. Jasmine was naked on the bed. A large pink vibrator stood up like a space rocket on her bedside table. Gary was sucking her nipple while he pleasured her sex with his hand. Shannon pulled out the Canon camera and set the video running. She eased further into the room and settled herself at the foot of the bed. Jasmine’s eyes were closed in ecstasy. Suddenly she grasped Gary’s head and forced him down almost fiercely to her clitoris and held him there. Her legs were wide apart as Gary’s tongue performed a tender expert job on her. Jasmine had started to yell in helpless lust. As she jack-knifed forward in convulsions, Shannon fired the camera. Frame after frame and flash after flash seemed to pulse in rhythm with her orgasm.

PC Woods looked up from his work, smiled and gave a thumbs-up for the camera. As he rolled aside she could see that Jasmine’s pleasure had fully aroused him. He certainly had a big talent for his chosen lifestyle. Jasmine was gulping for air, her legs were still apart.

“What the fuck!” she screamed.

“That’s a good way of putting it,” said Shannon with a broad grin. “Full Hollywood, Jasmine. I’m impressed.”

“You fucking black slag. This is burglary. You’re going to jail.”

“Yeah, well you’re under arrest for perverting the course of justice. You fitted Ben up with that cannabis. You got your lover to nick him. Are you gonna claim you don’t know PC Woods?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Get dressed. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you fail to mention when questioned....”

“Shut the fuck up. I know the bloody police caution.”

“Good, get your clothes while I call for transport. Do I need to cuff you or not? I’d love you to resist arrest.”

Gary Woods was struggling into his clothes. He was looking worried. Shannon knew she was bluffing but clearly he did not.

Jasmine had pulled some bedding around her. She narrowed her eyes.

“What do you really want? Take me down and you come too, you know that.”

“Yup!” snapped Shannon.

“Just tell me the deal,” said Jasmine.

Shannon had to admire her sang-froid. There were no tears, no embarrassment, and no pleas for mercy. Life was a deal. You assessed it and got the best one for yourself.

“You do nothing at all. You don’t go near Spencer, Ben, or Bloxington Manor. You do not carry out any of your blackmail threats against Gary. You do not make any trouble for me. If you do these pictures and the video will go to Spencer, Prince Xavier and the head of your law firm with a note about Ben’s case.”

Shannon fixed her with an unwavering stare.

“It’s outrageous,” said Jasmine.

“Exactly. I won’t do anything at all. You have my word. You just think about your situation and when you’re ready, contact me any time at my police office. My mobile is on ring-through from the landline. Just keep in mind your plans for the future. You’re a top lawyer, soon to be a Queen’s Counsel. You’re tipped to be a judge in a few years. You have a blooming relationship with a handsome young prince. You mix with royals and cabinet ministers, and have enormous wealth. You love to ride your horses. A lot hangs on you and me getting along,” she said, watching her words sink in.

“I’d drag you down even deeper. You’d be a police slag in prison.”

“We could share a cell for our joint safety, Jasmine. Any tricks, you know the score. Come and see me soon. Just be grateful I haven’t added an arrest for murder.”

“You’ve got no fucking jurisdiction!” she shouted.

Shannon froze in amazement. Gary Woods sucked in a deep breath and looked open-mouthed at Jasmine.

“You killed her didn’t you?” he said.

“No.”

“That was a slip, my lovely. Maybe you should sit in Holloway Prison while the French police have a look at the case papers and decide on extradition,” he said.

“Go home to your grubby little slapper of a wife and your puggled thick brat,” said Jasmine.

“My missus is worth ten of you. I’ve got a good mind to lock you up myself,” he said.

“You’re a pleb, Gary. I was sick of your vacuous mind anyway. They sell vibrating toys with conversation sexier than you. You’re an IQ zero with a soft dick.”

Shannon smiled inwardly. It wouldn’t hurt Gary to lose a bit of confidence in his powers for a while. Jasmine was vicious. She was a worthy enemy.

“OK, our business is done for now. Contact my office and make it soon.”

“And you won’t make any moves?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. So Jasmine, I fucking well won’t.”

“We can get along, Shannon. I’m sure of that.”

“So am I. Just don’t come with that illegal number plate. If you do I’ll give you a ticket.”

Gary let out a laugh.

“You’re stitched up like a bloody kipper Jazz. You should see your bloody ugly horsey face. How I kissed you without throwing up, I just dunno.”

Shannon left those last words for Jasmine to digest. She made no attempt to stop them. She was happy to be outside. She pulled the memory cards from the recorder and the camera. The job was done.

“I’m gonna get the kit straight back to Scotland Yard,” she said. “Fancy a drink after?”

Gary Woods eagerly agreed. By 6 p.m. they were in the “Marquis of Westminster” pub in Pimlico.

“Am I really free of her?” he asked.

“Yeah. If she so much as threatens you, let me know and I’ll sink her. Don’t doubt my sincerity.”

“You’ve got some balls, Shannon.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, “you played a blinder. That thumbs-up was a master stroke.”

He gave a wry chuckle. He got out his wallet and produced a picture of his pretty young wife and baby.

“I’m going straight, honest. I’ve learned my lesson.”

She looked at him, not hiding her skepticism. He was a lover of women and a charmer in his own cheeky way. He had more front than Walmart. He was doomed.

He bought her a second pint of lager. She relaxed realizing how tense she’d been. Spending time with this guy merely showed her how lightweight he was compared to Spencer. Her fingers and toes ached for him. Gary was burbling on about his early life riding circus horses and learning trapeze. She nodded and smiled. Eventually he changed back to his normal patter.

“You must get lonely out there in the sticks on your own,” he said holding her eyes. “If ever you needed a bit of police back-up or just a chat....”

She took his hand.

“Gary, your libido will get you hanged. You just can’t stop, can you?” she said.

“Nah, I wasn’t thinking that way Shannon. You’re a gorgeous unbelievably sexy and beautiful woman, but I could ignore all that....”

They both started to laugh together. She shook her head.

“I’d kiss you just for your comedy, Gary, but I know where you’ve been.”

After another beer and a fantastic meal of burger and chips they turned to old war stories and crime legends of South London. An evening had passed when she could have fallen into a loveless vacuum of longing and regret. He walked her to Vauxhall and put her on a train.

“Maybe we’ll never meet again,” she said, ignoring the health risk and pecking his cheek.

“You’re a true lady. I’ll never forget you. I’m going straight I promise. I’m going back home now and showing that lovely little girl how much I care,” he said.

All night she longed for Spencer. It was 8 a.m. when she booked on duty. Her car was still at Croydon since she’d come home in a mini cab. She’d hitch a ride on a Z-District area car later in the day. Her first job was to scan all the police news involving Fleetworth-Green. Unusually there was a missing person report. Her heart began to pound. The incident had been filed at two minutes past midnight. She took in the full details. Surname: Chamberlain-Knightsmith. First names: Benjamin Rupert Spencer. Date of birth: 24th November 1997.

The message had been received by phone at Croydon control and graded as routine and carried the usual suffix “Local Area Officer to advance.”

Something pretty dramatic had happened for sure. Whatever her relations with Ben or Spencer it was her professional duty to deal with it. Fifteen minutes later she was leaning her bike against a pillar at the front of The Manor. Mrs Travis, the housekeeper, opened the door.

“Thank God you’re here. His Grace is at his wit’s end,” she said.

A few seconds later Spencer came down the wide stairs looking pale and unshaven.

“Shannon….”

She knew she had to keep this formal.

“Let’s make sure we’re right on top of this from the start. I’ve got to fill in forms and set a whole bunch of stuff running. There’s a story to be discovered.”

“Of course, come to the study. Helen, could you please bring in some tea.”

Mrs Travis smiled and threw her a long glance. It was obvious she had something to say privately. Shannon seated herself at the desk and spread out all the official Missing Person forms.

“So, what do we know?”

“If only we knew anything. He went out yesterday morning. As far as I know he was fine. I don’t think he knew of our ... ” he hesitated searching her eyes, “our problems and the information you gave me.”

“So when did you start to worry?”

“Yesterday evening. I thought he was out with friends. I tend to let him roam free in the holidays. When it got dark and he wasn’t answering his phone I knew there was something wrong.”

“Spencer, why didn’t you phone me?”

“I didn’t want to mix my own feelings with police business.”

“The good news is that there are no unidentified lads in police cells, hospital wards, or mortuaries. That also means we haven’t got a clue where he is or where to start. I have got a suspicion about the why.”

“Really?”

“Jasmine was here overnight on Tuesday into Wednesday morning.”

Spencer shook his head wearily.

“You see, this is what I didn’t want. It will be too easy to get involved in personal issues.”

She stared at him. Perhaps he still couldn’t see Jasmine’s character? She moved on with formal procedures.

“I need names of friends, e-mail accounts, Facebook passwords, details of bank accounts and any debit or credit cards. I need recent photos and something like a hairbrush or toothbrush to sample for DNA. I’ll also need to talk to everyone who was here yesterday. That will eventually mean Jasmine.”

“I’ll get straight on to it. Shannon, the officer I spoke to last night was rather negative.”

“What did he say?”

“That kids went missing all the time. He said there were about eighteen thousand reports a year. In a nutshell there are too many to run around looking for them.”

The strain and worry were expressed in his face. She wanted to hug him. She was still angry he hadn’t trusted her but he was a deeply good man with a missing son and no partner to turn to.

“Forget the official police line. I’m on this case twenty-four/seven until he’s home and he will come home.”

He looked up at her. There were tears in his eyes.

“I didn’t believe he was innocent did I? It’s easy to understand why he’s run off. It’s a massive comfort to know you’re on the case.”

“Right. Is there any chance we have any notes or messages? The sooner we get into his e-mail and Facebook stuff the better.”

“I’ll search his things.”

As Spencer left the room, Mrs Travis arrived with the tea.

“What do you know then Mrs Travis?” asked Shannon.

“I can’t speak out of turn. It wasn’t my business.”

“If it’s to do with Ben, then it’s police business.”

“That lady – Jasmine de Montfort was here. I heard her talking to Ben.”

“How?”

“She creeps around the house when she’s here. I don’t like her. His Grace has always told me to make sure she doesn’t come up to his room. I think she walked in on him once and was a bit of a nuisance. His Grace wasn’t happy with her.”

“So you keep an eye on her?”

“Yes. I heard her going upstairs and she went to Ben’s room. I ... well, I listened at the door.”

“You did the right thing,” said Shannon, noting Mrs Travis’s nervous glances at the door.

“She was telling Ben he was going back to Eton. Then she said that some other woman had let his father down and that she was coming here soon to be his mother and take command. Then she said that he mustn’t tell his father because it would ruin his chance of happiness if Ben got involved. She told him she would pay him a special extra allowance of two hundred pounds a month as a secret kindness while he was at boarding school. All the poor lad had to do was keep quiet and enjoy the money having treats with his chums.”

“How did Ben take that?”

“From what I could hear he just walked away without answering. I don’t think anyone has seen him since.”

Mrs Travis was trembling on the verge of tears. Shannon took her hand.

“You’ve done absolutely the right thing to listen and to tell me. Now we know what’s in his mind.

“That woman’s not good. I’ve always felt it. I don’t know why His Grace doesn’t see it.”

“Men have exchanged their intuition for logic. They can tell you the exact visibility difference between a mist and a fog but they don’t try to look through either of them,” said Shannon.

Spencer crossed paths with Mrs Travis as she left.

“He was signed in to his e-mail. There’s been no activity at all,” he said.

“It’s not very professional of me but I think I should say that I believe some of this is my fault,” she said.

“How could it be?”

“You don’t know why he’s run off do you?”

“No.”

“Jasmine was here. It is to do with her. Can you tell me why she came on Tuesday night?”

“I asked her to come. I wanted to look her in the eye in the light of what you had told me.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, up to a point. Can someone be that false?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“I told her of my feelings for you and that I believed she was a negative influence in our lives. I made the mistake of telling her that she had caused a rift between us. I wanted to see how she reacted.”

“Did she spit acid or turn into toad?”

“No, she told me she understood that I’d been hoodwinked by a person of a lower social position. She advised me that I wasn’t sufficiently streetwise to handle someone like you,”

“Gor Blimey your Lordship—may I say your handling of a common wretch is most satisfying. As long as you scrub yourself thoroughly afterwards, Sir, you shouldn’t come to no harm.”

“Shannon, I’m telling you what she said. To be honest she showed a very ugly side of her nature. I told her I had no romantic interest in her.”

“Some fillies would be heartbroken. In her case, her sewage pump could have suffered a terminal blockage.”

“There were no terminal blockages,” he began with a small laugh. “She thought it was a very reasonable starting point. According to her, persons of noble blood form contracts and advantageous alliances. She told me I would not be required to handle her physically or emotionally and that I could play in the mud to my heart’s content. She has her own far younger and virile sources to satisfy her. She wanted a partnership of aristocracy and wealth.”

“Spencer, that’s remarkable. For once she told the truth. Her current stunt cock is twenty-six. Would you like to see the pictures?”

He seemed to wince at little and didn’t ask what she meant.

“I told her to be gone when I got up. She was.”

“Before she went, she told Ben she was getting him sent back to boarding school and that she was coming back as his step-mother. Mrs Travis overheard her.”

“Shannon, now you can see she cannot and will not believe I won’t accept her deal. She had a couple of billions from her divorce with Ivan Molassovitch. She has top inside information on the London stock exchange and nets a few extra millions every year. She commands fees of hundreds of thousands as a barrister.”

“I get a pretty decent pension after thirty years. I’ve got nearly three thousand in the Metropolitan Police funeral fund if I croak. But hey, we’re here to get Ben back.”

“I have absolute trust in you, Shannon. Do you forgive me for making you feel I didn’t.”

“Nothing to forgive. I was hasty. Mel talked me through it.”

“He’s a fine man. Gentle little Tim can’t believe he’s got this tough hunky cop looking out for him. He’s so in love.”

“So let’s get this boy home, Spencer ... then we’ll see where everything stands. I assure you that Mrs Travis told me what she heard. I don’t think you need take it any further with her.”

“Absolutely not. I’m very grateful to her.”

“Shannon, I know we have to think of Ben but there is something on my mind. Until you spoke to me in the car I’d never wondered about Saskia’s accident.”

“That’s remarkable. Mel said you would. I’m a cop. In theory I rely on evidence. Suspicion is for novelists. Let’s just say I enjoy a good read.”

He nodded and held her eyes. There had been enough of her own concerns. There was one thing to add.

“We’re a team on this job, Spencer. Before it’s wall-to-wall police talk I just want to say I love you.”

“You can’t imagine how valuable that is to me. I love you so much. Let’s get Ben back and we can start over.”

“Agreed. Right. Experience has shown me that bank cards often give us the best chance. People buy things and need cash. Is there anywhere he would go?”

“There’s Sir Rupert Spofforth, his grandfather, but he flew to the USA yesterday.”

“Phone the house, I guess there are staff. He might even be there.”

She worked hard gaining every single shred of information that she could. She recorded numbers, passwords, addresses, guesses, and hopes. She knew she hadn’t hugged him or offered comfort. There could be no peace or joy while the lad was missing. She had far more experience than him and she was feeling tense. Just where the fuck was he? He was on the run from Jasmine. Anyone with any sense would just keep running.

When she had all possible details she arranged a ride to Croydon police station. She wanted Spencer to stay at home. With luck, the boy would just walk in, do a teenage grunt and shrug. Her first stop was with Inspector Lilly.

“I’ve seen the report. His Grace must be very distressed. Ben is such a fine young man. What can I do?” said the inspector.

“Get this bank authority processed. Cut through all the red tape and get Vodafone to trace his mobile if it’s on.”

“Of course. You have all our resources, Shannon. I’ve classified the case as possibly kidnap for ransom.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” she asked.

“No, but it opens every door.”

“Can I work from here? It’ll save a lot of time.”

She settled into a position in an open C.I.D. Office. She knew a couple of faces and it wasn’t long before she had company. One of them was a female Detective Chief Inspector she’d noticed at the Operation Kakkada briefing.

“He’ll turn up. They all do,” said the woman.

She was gorgeous, sophisticated and confident with long dark hair. Her perfume was expensive and her accent refined. “I’m Anna La Salle. I’m working with Tom Mitchell. You’re Shannon, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re coming on my squad at the Yard.”

“I am?”

“Hope so.”

“Let’s hope he turns up alive and that no one’s buggered his ass or got him on crack,” said a world-weary old-soldier detective.

Sometimes she hated cops. She didn’t need him to spell out the risks. He’d been out one night. A second night for a vulnerable kid could be critical. His details had gone out to every corner of the UK. Every arrest, every dead body, every youth stopped on the street would be checked against his profile. In her heart she carried a plea for him just to walk in and end this torture of worry and constant imagining of what could be happening. Please, Ben. Please....

A message popped up on her tablet from Spencer.

“He went to grandfather’s address in Chelsea 3 p.m. yesterday. Walked off towards Hyde Park. Wearing low-waisted blue jeans and faded red hoodie. He was alone.”

This was good news in a way. He was trying to stay inside the family loop. There was still no answer on his phone. Either he’d turned it off, it was out of power or he’d lost it. In the back of her mind was the fear that he was in a situation where he couldn’t use it.