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do that?” Vodicka winked again.

Walker sat opposite them, playing along, taking it all in jest. “Fuck the both of you. Who really likes it in places like this anyway? Soho’s such a shithole.”

“It wasn’t last week if I remember correctly. I seem to recall you getting some last weekend from a place just like this.” The Sarge picked up his pack of cigarettes and lit one. “So, what’s she like, this Miller?”

This was the part of the evening Walker dreaded. Every time he got with a woman, the Sarge would start asking questions. What’s she like? He was basically asking what she was like in the sack? With a woman he’d slept with and left, he’d go along with it, for the sake of keeping up appearances. Not with Rachel, though. He wouldn’t risk it. “She’s great. Thanks for the interest, Sarge. I appreciate it.”

“Come on, man, have you sealed the deal yet, or what?”

He had all eyes on him. “I’m not telling you that. Piss off.”

“Ah, I get it, he likes this one, Sarge, he’s gone all coy on us.”

“Fuck off, Voddy, and drink your drink, will you?” Walker took a big mouthful of beer, hoping they’d back off about Rachel.

It was always like this; his team would rib him until he’d had enough, then roll it back. “And there’s something I need to discuss with you both anyway. The reason I suggested we meet up tonight.”

“Wait! You mean it wasn’t for our scintillating company?” Sarge smirked.

“I feel so used, so dirty,” Vodicka said with a grin.

“You’ll get over it.”

“I can tell it’s something serious, Walker, so what you got?” The Sarge lost all joviality, his craggy face serious. “This have something to do with Zuccari, by any chance? I saw him this morning and he looked like shit, worse than shit.”

Walker nodded. “He’s in a bad place. He’s gone and got himself in way over his head. He’s in so deep, I just don’t see a way out for him. He’s talking about doing a runner, but I don’t see how that’s going to help.”

“He’s gambling again?”

Walker nodded to the Sarge, who shook his head in disgust. “And it’s bad.”

“How bad? Who’s he owe money to this time?”

With his head hung, Walker muttered, “Melodi Demirci.” He heard Vodicka gasp, and the Sarge groan. He lifted his head up to find his boss staring skyward, his hands on his head, exasperated. “And you don’t want to know how much he’s into her for.”

“Whoa! Don’t even think about holding out on us,” the Sarge growled. “If we’re going to help Zuccari out of this, we need to know what we’re dealing with. You say it’s bad. How much is bad in your book?”

“A hundred grand.” Walker waited for the frowns to appear. A few thousand was bad enough, but a hundred grand was not easy to come by.

“How the fuck did he get that much credit in her casino?” The Sarge was confused, livid. “I couldn’t get half that.”

“He lied to Demirci, told her he was some big shot investment broker, or something. He lost money and kept asking for credit. Oh, and he was fucking her. As it turned out, she knew he was a cop, and offered to stake him a hundred grand and he took it. Then he lost it all. Now he’s got a week to pay her quarter of it, or her cousins will take it out of him a piece at a time.”

“Her cousins, Unar and Yasin Inan, they’re a nasty pair I hear.” Vodicka, face grave, stared at the Sarge, then him. “If they want their pound of flesh, they’ll take it.”

Walker wanted the Sarge to take action, or at least tell him that he would sort it somehow. The thought of Zuccari getting beaten and tortured by the Inans filled him with dread. Rachel told him to involve his supervisor, that he would know what to do. “Sarge? What do you think we should do?”

“Leave it with me. I’ll look into these Turkish thugs. They’ll leave Zuccari alone, don’t worry, but both of you be ready, in case I need help with them, okay?”

40

Miller lay on the sofa with the TV on, not that she was watching anything. It was a noise in the background keeping her company, nothing more. Luke sent her a text at least an hour earlier saying he was on his way over. If he didn’t hurry, she would go to bed without him. “Where are you?” She got up and went to the kitchen.

She spent all afternoon on the computer, finding out as much as she could about Colin and Richard Fisher, and Charlotte Edwards. After hours of research, she and Hayes concluded Colin Fisher was the intended target, not Brandy Reid or Kurt Austin.

Hayes filled her in about the interview with Melodi Demirci and her solicitor, telling her that Demirci agreed to give them access to all her accounts. She thought it odd that the prime suspect in this investigation would willingly give up so much information. Her partner still believed she ordered the murders, and the murder of Henry Curtis, although they were both stuck as to a real motive.

According to Hayes, Demirci made a valid point: why hurt or kill people who owed her money? She would never see a penny out of them if she knocked off every non-paying loanee. Plus, the death count in the capital would be huge. Despite this, Hayes still believed Demirci was behind it.

While sat at their desks, they discussed the interview with Richard Fisher and Charlotte Edwards earlier, and why Richard lied about Henry knowing Demirci. There was no need for it, although Richard Fisher could claim no knowledge of it through intoxication. That was how he would get away with it.

At about four in the afternoon, Demirci’s accounts came through, and ten minutes later, Accord’s accounts pinged into Hayes’ folder. There was so much data, it would take days to check it all out. Inspector

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