Death's Cold Hand J.E. Mayhew (best romantic novels to read TXT) 📖

Another sigh. “What you should do for the best, Jeff is have nothing to do with that psychopath. But, yeah, I can see your dilemma. He didn’t say anything else?”

“He went on about Romance stories. He said something about ‘a lovelorn hero, a whore with a heart of gold and a handsome bad boy…’”

“Kyle Quinlan,” Blake muttered.

“Do you think he’s been in touch with Quinlan? I mean they were friends in the past, weren’t they?”

“Anything is possible with Gambles, Jeff. If Laura is home, then I’m sure she would have got in touch. She could be in danger. Although Quinlan has been very quiet. She took off the moment she realised he was coming back, and I haven’t heard anything amongst my colleagues about him. Listen, thanks for letting me know and… I’m sorry I bit your head off. I’ll check it out.” Will hung up and Jeff sat staring at his phone for a second, hoping he hadn’t just lit a fuse for a powder keg of Gambles’ making.

Chapter 16

Blake sat at his desk, turning a biro over and over in his fingers. The news that Laura was back on the Wirral disturbed him. He hadn’t expected her to come running to him for protection but at the same time, she could have let him know. What had changed to bring her back of her own free will? Or had she? Had Quinlan caught up with her?

DCI Matty Cavanagh had been looking into the whole business of Kyle Quinlan, but Blake was sure it had all been put on the back burner now. Still, it might be worth chatting to Cavanagh in case anything had come up recently.

Cavanagh had a reputation as a young DCI who cared more about his appearance and popularity than actually getting to the truth of things. He and his trusty DS Dirkin also had a knack of cutting through the crap and getting speedy arrests. There was a suspicion, too, that Dirkin had pulled Cavanagh’s fat out of the fire on many occasions. How true any of this was, Blake didn’t know. If he was honest, too, he disliked Cavanagh more for his easy manner and ability to charm almost anyone. Blake rarely felt comfortable in his own skin. Cavanagh was a scouser through and through, and he wore it like a badge of honour to the point of it becoming almost stereotypical. He loved his football and his banter, especially if he was teasing Blake about being from the Wirral.

True to form, Cavanagh was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the desk when Blake entered his office. “All right, Blakey,” he said, not altering his relaxed position.

“Sorry, Matty, are you busy?” Blake said, maybe with a little too much edge in his voice.

Matty Cavanagh tapped the side of his head. “Thinking, Blakey, mulling stuff over. Got to have time to think, eh? How are your turnips growing over the water, eh? Good harvest? Sheep all healthy?”

Blake rolled his eyes. “Hilarious. Listen, have you heard any more about Kyle Quinlan? Last I heard you were looking into it…”

“We were, Blakey, then your Laura did a runner, didn’t she? We were chasing shadows, to be honest. I blamed that bloody Gambles character for sending us on a wild goose chase.”

“So you closed the case?”

Cavanagh stretched in his seat. “We were going to but then Kyle Quinlan showed up…”

“Showed up? What d’you mean, showed up?”

“Obviously, we knew he was around because of what Laura told you but nobody had eyeballed him. Then he bought a house up in Caldy, bold as brass. I think it belonged to that mate of yours off the telly. The one Gambles murdered.”

“Ross Armitage? Kyle Quinlan bought Ross Armitage’s house?” Blake dropped heavily into the nearest chair. “Jeez, that’s bizarre. How would he be able to afford a property in Caldy?”

Cavanagh raised his hands and his eyebrows, displaying a disturbing lack of knowledge or care. “Who knows, Blakey? We can’t just go barging into people’s houses asking them why they’re rich, can we?”

“Not unless they’re massively wealthy and can’t account for it, no but…”

“And Quinlan hasn’t been down to Harrods on a shopping spree for handbags and shoes, recently. So we’re stuffed at the moment. But we’re watching him.”

Blake rubbed his chin. “Ross Armitage’s house,” he muttered. “Jeez. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would we tell you, Blakey?” Cavanagh said, leaning forward. “Have you heard something?”

Blake nodded. “Laura is back, according to Gambles…”

“According to Gambles? Has that nutter been pulling your little brother’s strings again, mate? You wanna have a word about that. Listen, you’ve got to stay away from Kyle Quinlan.”

Blake looked up. “What? Did you know? About Laura?”

“I can’t tell you anything, mate,” Cavanagh said, red spots appearing on his cheeks.

“You’re a crap liar, Matty. What’s going on? Where’s Laura? Is she safe?”

Cavanagh rubbed his forehead. “’Kin’ ‘ell,” he muttered. “She’s fine, Will. More than fine. Thriving, okay?”

“What are you on about?” Blake said, planting his fists on Cavanagh’s desk. “What do you mean she’s thriving?”

“I didn’t want to be the one to break the news, mate. She’s living with Quinlan. We’ve seen her coming and going freely from the house, sometimes with Quinlan sometimes without…”

“Jeez,” Blake threw his arms up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why do you think? Look at yourself. Nobody likes news like that. This is a delicate operation. We’re just at the information gathering stage and…”

“He must have some kind of hold over her,” Blake said. “We’ve got to get her away from there…”

“Will, she’s fine. There’s nothing we can do. You know that. Just stay away. I told you. Quinlan came back from the States and, from what we’ve gleaned, he was working for a pretty heavy outfit over there: drugs, extortion, protection and gambling rackets. Our theory is that he’s setting up on the Wirral. We’re watching him. If you go wading in, then he’ll cotton on right away.”

“But if Laura could be in