THE DOMINO BOYS (a psychological thriller) (18 page)

‘You’ve got the wrong guy,’ said Barry as the door closed behind him.

‘Most definitely the right one,’ Lavery replied. ‘Through there, into the living room.’ He gestured with his open palm.

Barry did as he was told, went cautiously into the living room.

A man rose from a seat. Came forward.

‘Hi, Barry,’ he said.

It was Duncan Winslade.

*  *  *  *

‘It’s a beautiful morning,’ he said, standing by the curtains and looking down onto the grounds of Red House. Alfie Parker’s white van was just coming through the gates. 10.00 a.m. precisely. He smiled smugly. It felt good to have people under your thumb. ‘Shame you’re not up out of bed and about to make the most of it.’ Donnie Craddick went over to the bed. Looked down on Camellia Lucas’ still, bound form. She glowered up at him. He bent close to her, wiped a finger over her cheek. She flinched a little.

‘She’s here, Mr Craddick,’ said Steve Roche from the open bedroom door.

‘I’ve got to go now,’ Craddick said to Camellia. ‘Got to see a rather charming lady. She’s about to write a piece about me for her newspaper. But I’ll be back. You can bet on that.’

Roche was grinning from the doorway. ‘Mr Craddick tells me you and me are going to spend some quality time together later, Camellia.’

‘OK, let’s get down to business, Roche,’ said Craddick, ushering him out of the room and closing the door. ‘Any news on Stocker?’

‘None. I’m checking up but not sure where he’s being held.’

A deep groaning sound came from his throat. ‘I should have taken care of him earlier.’

‘I did tell you…’

‘Forget him for now. Have you sorted my money?’

‘I’ve got it downstairs for you. You’ve got a week to pay it back.’

Craddick smiled. ‘No problem.’

‘But we’ve got other issues. Staff issues…’

‘What the hell are you talking about, Roche?’

‘Those two guys you hired as minders.’

‘What about them?’

‘They legged it. Last night.’

‘Why, for Christ’s sake?’

‘Seems the incident in the grounds unnerved them.’

‘I needed them to come with me when I meet with Ginetta. I’ll be going without protection otherwise.’

‘You’ve got me,’ Roche assured.

‘I need more!’ he screeched.

‘You can’t get the staff these days…’

‘Damn their hides! When this is over I want them punished.’

‘That list is growing, Mr Craddick.’

‘Are you questioning me?’ Roche shook his head meekly. ‘Find me someone else, someone who isn’t afraid of their own shadow.’

‘I can’t find anyone that soon.’

‘Then as soon as you can, moron!’ he barged past Roche.

‘Good morning, Mr Craddick,’ said Susie Storey as Craddick entered the room. She reached out a hand to shake.

‘You can call me Donnie, please.’

‘Donnie it is.’

The reporter had a large black sports bag slung over her shoulder. ‘That looks heavy; let me help you with it,’ he offered.

‘That’s fine, Donnie. I’m used to lugging this around; it’s my camera and recording equipment. We have to be head cook and bottle washer these days. The paper used to employ their own photographers but what with the cuts they’re a luxury and largely a thing of the past. Is this where we’re going to do the interview?’

They were in a drawing room. The sunshine was slanting in through the tall windows, casting hot panes of blistering light onto the carpet. A tasteless, ornate, gold-painted statue of a half-naked woman appeared to be sunning herself in the early-morning beams.

‘I dunno. Is this OK?’ he asked.

‘Well, for the interview, yes, but for the photograph I think it would be good to have you posed against something more office-like. You know, give you a sturdy businessman’s air. I remember your father showing me to his office when I interviewed him. Is that still available?’

‘Sure it is. Let me take you to it.’

‘Great!’ she said, shouldering the bag and following him.

‘There,’ he said, opening the door, ‘how’s that?’

She stepped inside the room. Her eyes widened in pleasure. ‘This hasn’t changed. I’ll put my stuff down here,’ she said, placing it by Mickey Craddick’s desk. ‘Your father liked his books,’ she said, looking across at the bookcase crammed with leather-bound volumes.

‘Not a bit. Those are for show. My father used to brag that he’d read two books his entire life; the first was a Famous Five novel, and the other wasn’t.’

‘Oh. He told me otherwise.’

‘He would. Shall we get on? Where do you want me?’

Susie reached into the holdall and took out a notebook and pen and a small recorder. She placed the recorder on the desk. ‘Here will do nicely,’ she said, indicating for him to sit in his father’s chair. He smiled and sat down, tried to make himself comfortable. But he never felt comfortable sitting in his father’s chair. She sat opposite, looking across the desk at him.

‘Right, let’s get on with the interview.’

‘It’s a bit formal, isn’t it? Me behind the desk. It’s like I’m about to interview you.’

‘I think it makes you appear – how shall we say – dominant.’

He raised a brow. ‘You like dominant men?’

‘Sometimes. When it suits me.’

‘I can be dominant if you like.’

She grinned. ‘I’m sure you can, Donnie. She opened up her pad and hit the record button on the machine.

‘What say we get together after the interview?’ he said. ‘We can go out for a meal or something.’

‘I thought you were going to get married, Donnie.’

‘I’m not married yet,’ he said. ‘Anyhow, my fiancé has gone back home. I’ve been left all alone in this big empty house.’

‘I doubt a man like you is afraid of a big empty house, Donnie.’ She tested her pen on the paper. ‘OK, maybe we can go out some time. I’d like that. But first I need to get that interview.’

‘I’m all yours,’ he said, leaning forward, his elbows on the desk, his chin supported on a bridge made by his interlocked hands. ‘Be kind to me in that article, won’t you?’

‘You have my word, Donnie. It’s hard to be unkind to a man like you.’

‘You flatterer,’ he said.

‘That makes two of us.’ Her eyes shone.

‘Who’s that with you?’ Steve Roche called over to Alfie Parker.

Alfie was in the process of unloading the carpet cleaning equipment from his van parked by the rear door.

‘His names Dickie Sugden,’ he replied.

Dickie paused at the van’s door. A large, heavy cardboard box in his hands. ‘Hello,’ said Dickie.

‘He’s been helping me out here for a few days. He’s not got any work and since he’s built like an ox and I’m getting on a bit I thought he could help me clean all these bloody carpets. Do you know how long this is going to take me?’

‘I don’t care,’ said Roche. ‘Donnie told me to tell you that you can’t work today.’

‘Why not? I’ve got the bedrooms to finish off.’

Roche sneered. ‘Just do as I say, Parker. Donnie’s being interviewed in his father’s office. He doesn’t want disturbing.’

‘Can I drop off these boxes first? Save me doing it tomorrow,’ said Alfie.

‘Whatever,’ said Roche. ‘Then get your arse out of here pronto. Donnie doesn’t want you around today.’

Alfie motioned for Dickie to bring the box inside.

‘What’s in the boxes?’ questioned Roche.

‘They’re full of bottles of cleaning fluid. You want to check?’

‘Do I look like I’m interested in carpet cleaner?’

‘You asked.’

‘Don’t give me lip, Parker.’ He turned his back on him and walked away.

‘Is Miss Lucas around?’ Alfie called.

Roche stopped. Turned. ‘Why’d you ask?’

‘Just wondering.’

‘Stop wondering. She’s gone.’

‘Where?’

Roche raised his hands in frustration. ‘What is it with you, Parker? It’s none of your business where she’s gone. Home, I guess. I don’t know. Just get on with what you’ve got to do and scram.’

‘He’s a nasty man,’ said Dickie, watching Roche’s back.

‘That’s right, Dickie. He’s a very nasty man. They’re all nasty men here. Bring the box into the house like I told you, eh? And help me get the others inside as soon as we can, there’s a good fellow.’

‘You’ll buy me an ice-cream like you promised?’

‘I’ll buy you all the ice-cream you want, Dickie.’

‘You’re not a nasty man, Alfie. Not like that other nasty man.’

Alfie studied the man as he struggled with the heavy box.

‘People can be nasty in many different ways, Dickie,’ he said quietly. ‘Even when they don’t mean to be.’

Roche looked out of the window when he heard Alfie’s van pass. He’d just taken a call from Ginetta asking if everything was going to plan. He told him yes, Craddick was waiting for a call from him. ‘And my payment?’ he’d asked. Ginetta assured him it would be secretly handed over to him when he came to the meeting, when he’d got his hands on Craddick’s money.

Roche was just turning away from the window when he heard a loud metallic bang from outside.

‘What the hell?’ he said under his breath.

He saw that Alfie had accidentally driven his van into the gatepost. There was a loud, teeth-clenching sound of grinding gears as he tried to find reverse. Roche opened the window, leaned out.

‘What are you doing, you idiot? You’ll pay for any damage done!’

The car reversed then crawled slowly out of the gates like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Roche shook his head, but he didn’t give the incident much thought; he’d bigger things on his mind.

‘That should do it,’ said Susie Storey with satisfaction, closing up her pad and stopping the recorder. ‘I should have more than enough to pull together a really great article. Very interesting, Donnie.’

‘The date’s still on?’ he asked.

‘I suppose that depends how sweetly you smile for the camera,’ she said, reaching into the sports holdall and taking out a black digital SLR. ‘Now then, let’s see...’ She turned on the camera, looked through and adjusted the lens.

‘Where do you want me?’ he asked.

‘Stay where you are, sat at the desk,’ she said, crouching down to eye level and aiming the camera at him. ‘You look good,’ she said.

‘I know,’ he returned, grinning.

‘Still looks a little too formal, though. Take off your jacket, hang it on the back of the chair.’ He did as he was bid. ‘Roll up your sleeves, make it look like you’re getting down to business.’ While he was doing this she took out her mobile phone, hit the buttons. ‘Excuse me a moment; I’m letting the office know when I’ll be finishing off here and what time I’m likely to be back. I’ve got another interview planned for later and they don’t want me to miss it. There, that’s all done,’ she said, slipping the phone into her jacket pocket. ‘Where were we?’

‘How’d you want me?’ he asked.

‘That’s a loaded question, Donnie,’ she said and raised the camera, taking a few shots. ‘That looks just fine. Act natural. That’s good. That’s perfect. A few more, just to be on the safe side…’

At that moment Donnie Craddick’s phone rang and he took it out. He stared at the screen and frowned. ‘I’ve got a call to take. Excuse me for a few minutes, eh?’

‘No problem,’ she said.

He left her in the office and closed the door behind him. ‘Hi, Mr Ginetta.’

‘So glad to hear your manners are improving, Mr Craddick. Do you have the money?’

‘Yeah.’

‘All of it?’

‘What do you think? Of course I’ve got all of it.’

‘I’m impressed, Mr Craddick. Perhaps I have misjudged you. We’ll meet tonight.’

‘And you’ll have my money there?’

‘All million pounds of it. As soon as I get my one hundred thousand I’ll hand over your merchandise.’

‘How do I know I can trust you?’

‘You don’t, Mr Craddick. But you don’t have a choice. You’ll come unarmed, but you can bring your lackey Steve Roche with you if that makes you feel better.’

‘Unarmed? I don’t think so.’

There was silence at the other end of the line. ‘Are you being difficult, Mr Craddick?’

He swallowed. ‘No. I’ll come unarmed.’

‘Both of you.’

‘Both of us. Deal. Where and when?’

‘In exactly one hour from now you will go to the site of the old Henderson sewing machine factory, west of Rotherham. It’s about ten miles from Overthorpe. Do you know it?’

‘I know somebody who does.’

‘Be there and don’t be late.’

The line went dead. Donnie Craddick sauntered back into his father’s office. Susie Storey was sitting patiently in her chair with the camera on her lap. He noticed how her skirt had ridden up to reveal the tops of her long, wonderfully shaped legs.

‘Sorry to have kept you waiting. I’m afraid we have to wrap this up. I’ve got urgent business to attend to.’