The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

The door almost sighed, opening slowly. Zuccari’s swollen face appeared in the crack. “Look, I’m fine. Just leave me be, please?”

The Sarge took one look at Zuccari, then barged his way inside the pokey flat, putting his arm around Zuccari’s shoulder and walking him through to the lounge. The big guy sat the flat owner on the sofa and stood looking down at him. “The fucking state of you.”

“Gee, thanks, Sarge, you say the nicest things.”

Walker could read through the bravado. His colleague and friend was petrified. He noticed Zuccari hiding his left hand, sitting on it. “Show us your hand.” He could see a white bandage that had turned almost grey.

“What? Fuck off. You’ll be asking to see my dick next.”

“Ah no, that comes after dinner.” Walker leaned over and grabbed Zuccari’s arm. His little finger and ring finger were missing. “What the fuck! Who did this to you? Where are your fingers?”

Whipping his arm back, Zuccari sat on his hand again. “I had an accident with a saw, is all. They couldn’t sew them back on, so the nurses disposed of them.”

“It was those Turkish gangsters, wasn’t it?” Sarge said.

Zuccari broke down. “They blindsided me, bundled me into a van and took me to some barn out in the middle of nowhere. They beat on me until she arrived. That’s when they took out the circular saw and sliced off my fingers. Melodi’s demanding I pay it off in part by keeping her in the know on your girlfriend’s case, that triple murder.”

“She wants a cop on her payroll, Zuccari. If it wasn’t you, it’d be someone else.” The Sarge’s eyes flared, angry. “This fucking bitch and her thug cousins are going to get what’s owed them. Where are your fingers really?”

“Melodi wrapped them up in a hanky and put them in her bag, then she left and the Inans beat the crap out of me, bundled me back into the van and dropped me off outside a hospital. I don’t remember much about the latter part; I passed out, woke up in a hospital bed attached to tubes this morning. I only got home quarter of an hour ago.”

“Why’s she interested in Rachel’s case? Why that one specifically?” Walker couldn’t understand the specificity of it. “I mean, having a cop on the payroll makes sense, but why earmark a certain investigation?”

“I don’t know! Maybe she had them killed and she wants to keep an eye on how the investigation’s going? You tell me! You’re shacked up with Miller, you must know more about it than I do.” Zuccari’s eyes were wild, darting all over the place, scared. “Help me, please. They said if I don’t come up with the goods, they’re going to take my hand next.”

Sarge bent down and helped Zuccari to his feet. “You’re coming with us. If you’re in our custody the whole time, they can’t touch you. Luke, get the door, would you?”

“Where am I supposed to stay? They’ll find me.”

“Not at mine, they won’t.” Sarge helped him out into the hallway. “And while you’re recovering, we’re going to pay the Inans and Melodi Demirci a little visit, aren’t we, Luke? They can’t get away with this kind of crap, not on one of my boys.”

Walker closed Zuccari’s door, cursing. He had an inkling Sarge wasn’t all talk on this one; he meant every word. The fact one of “his boys” had been hurt by the Inans was a slight to his name personally. Walker was positive Sarge would find a way to repay the favour, with interest.

49

Charlotte couldn’t motivate herself at home knowing Richard was being grilled by the police, the NCA, or whoever. Since arriving home, she tried to put her efforts into cleaning the house, which she failed to do, never wanting to stray too far away from her landline phone in case he called her on it. “Ring, you bloody thing, ring!”

Sat on the third stair up, she took out her mobile and checked she didn’t have a missed call from him. Hopes dashed for the fifteenth time, she sighed, got up and went to the kitchen, switching the kettle on. The stress of it made her want to smoke.

In her handbag hung on one of the kitchen chairs, she reached in and felt around the bottom. “There you are!” She continued rummaging, until she found what she was looking for: a lighter. “I shouldn’t, but sod it.”

Carrying her packet of cigarettes outside, she slid out a Silk Cut and put it between her lips, the familiarity comforting. Back when she used to hide smoking from Samuel, she’d kept an ashtray hidden by the side of the shed. Charlotte retrieved it, sat on a patio chair, and lit her cigarette.

And boy was it worth the wait. The smoke harsh but lovely on her lungs as she inhaled for the first time. Stupid, really, given how into exercising and eating healthy she was. Why would she smoke? It was barbaric in this day and age, yet so enjoyable. With no one else around to scorn her, she tilted her head back and drew on her “cancer stick”. “Why did I ever give you up?” She knew why.

Her landline phone rang. Charlotte sat up, choked, waved away the smoke, before getting up from the white plastic chair. And when she did, the head rush kicked in. It was heaven. Woozy, she made her way through the kitchen, to the lounge.

On the sixth ring, she answered. “Richard, it’s you! Are you all right? Where are you? Is the solicitor with you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer.

“Lottie, I love you, but please shut up. This is important.” His voice was hushed, but angry, like he was trying to be quiet, and talk. “I haven’t long. They’re probably listening to us right now, but I don’t have a choice. That which I showed you earlier will fit in Neelkanth Safe Deposit, okay?