Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

running nicely to clockwork before all of this shit with Dulcie Adams started. Although he knew once it was sorted it would close an overdue chapter in the Powell’s life, he couldn’t help but feel it had upset the equilibrium with just about everything and everyone. And from his side, he was beginning to suspect the very people he’d always trusted implicitly.

WALKING ALONG THE OPEN WALKWAY leading to the flat, Keith ignored the looks he received from an old woman peering through her net curtains. She was certainly no tom; at least ninety and looked like an extra from the Tales of Narnya or Lord of the Rings.

He shuddered inwardly with the uncomfortable thought of booking a tart and finding that. Mismarketing if ever he’d seen it.

Continuing, he stepped carefully over a pile of dog shit and the broken remains of a kid’s ride-on bike.

‘Ere!’ a tinny voice yelled.

Keith glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting the wizened troll to have spirited herself outside in the futile hope of enticing him inside, but this one was definitely a tom – a stereotypical one at that. Unfortunately, not much more attractive than the other thing either.

He ran his gaze over the woman’s straggly hair, overtight short skirt and sky-high heels, choosing to concentrate on her well-stacked chest rather than her face, which wouldn’t win any beauty contests or adverts for blemish-free skin any time soon.

He wasn’t in the mood for her either. At a push on any other normal day and ten pints he might have been tempted, but this wasn’t a normal day. This wasn’t a normal week. In fact, it hadn’t been a normal month and he was about in as much the mood for sex as he was for being dismembered. He’d had enough of all of this. Dealing with the type of shit Saul was dishing out was not in his job description.

He fixed his beady eyes on the scantily-clad woman. ‘Yeah? What do you want?’

The woman stomped over, her platform heels echoing on the concrete floor. ‘This your flat?’

‘What if it is?’ Keith answered gruffly. If this woman started pawing him in the hope of securing a quick tenner, then she’d find herself launched over the edge of this stinking hallway. The whole lot of them could fuck off.

‘Whoever the bird is in there, you need to tell her to shut her fucking rattle! All night she’s been bastard screaming and crying,’ the woman ranted, folding her arms over her large bust, meaning that Keith no longer had anything slightly acceptable to focus on. ‘I’ve been banging on the fucking wall and I’ve even banged on the door several times, but the silly bitch won’t answer. You need to tell her to keep a lid on it or I’ll...’

‘Or you’ll what?’ Keith growled menacingly, moving into the woman’s face however much it offended him seeing her close up.

Even Keith’s intimidating stance failed to dissuade this woman from backing down. ‘I’ll complain. It’s putting off my punters. No one wants to listen to that! It sounds like she’s being tortured! What the fuck are you doing to her in there?’

Keith smiled even though it was the last thing he felt like doing. ‘Give me your name. I’ll pass your concerns on to my boss.’

The woman eyed him suspiciously. ‘And who’s your boss? I’ll speak to him myself, so I will.’

‘Powell. Saul Powell...’ Keith said slowly, amused as the nature of the woman’s mistake flooded across her face. He glanced at the neighbouring flats. ‘I take it one of these is yours? I’ll get Mr Powell to come and see you and then you can sort it out with him.’

The woman stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the huge platform soles of her shoes in her haste. ‘Y-You don’t need to do that. I just wondered if she’s alright, that’s all. Forget I said anything. There’s no problem.’

Hiding his chuckle, Keith watched the woman stumble off in the opposite direction, glancing over her shoulder several times before she disappeared into the stairwell. Then his face fell. This was no good. Not only was keeping the girl in the flat and dosing her up out of order, but it was drawing attention too. This was asking for trouble – trouble he in no way wished to be associated with.

Reluctantly jamming the key in the scuffed door, Keith pushed it open, then quickly shut it behind him. If people were getting wind that something out of the ordinary was going on in here and put his face to the person coming and going, then that didn’t sit well.

That was it. His mind was made up. He would tell Jonah what was going on. After checking on the girl, he’d go and meet the stoner and if the knob was telling the truth about the diamonds, which for all their sakes, he’d better be, then he’d take them straight to the Feathers. At the same time he’d tell Jonah about this girl and what Saul had been doing. Hopefully, the presence of the diamonds would offset from the unfortunate part he himself had played.

And if the stoner was lying... Well, Keith hadn’t got a Plan B, so he’d just have to hope it didn’t come to that...

Steeling himself to face the girl who he felt unusually bad for, Keith tentatively pushed open the bedroom door, immediately struck by the overpowering stench of urine, faeces and vomit that pervaded the stale air of the small room and quelled the urge to throw up all over himself.

His eyes adjusted to the gloom, dark in comparison to the outside, thanks to the drawn curtains. He looked at the girl writhing on the bed, awake but not anywhere near coherent. Her naked body was covered in a mixture of her own filth and blood from the red raw wounds where the manacles had gradually eaten away at her wrists.

He eyed the countless needle marks on the inside of her arms and shook his head in a