Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

- the clink of light visible in the otherwise pitch black alleyway. On each of these occasions it was the same man – a young, slim guy in a white shirt and black waistcoat, most probably a barman and each time he’d come out he’d slipped around the side of the bins to have a sneaky fag.

He had no idea where this door would bring him out inside the building or where Jonah Powell was in relation to it. All it would take was one person to spot him and he’d be done for, but it was the only option he had.

Robert watched the barman smoking and his fingers twitched against his jacket pocket, the urge to light one up himself, intense. But he couldn’t. Not now. This was the only chance he’d get.

Dashing across the alley, Robert slipped inside the door of the Feathers and made the decision to head straight up the dimly lit stairwell in front of him, rather than chance going through the door to the left.

Based on guessing the layout of the club from the outside he presumed there would most likely only be stock at this level – drink, food, chairs – that sort of thing, but he also knew from the research he’d done on the web, the VIP suites were at the top of the building with the main club below. But that was all it was – a presumption. He had no way of actually knowing. The offices could be anywhere, but more likely situated somewhere along with the upper echelons.

As he moved up the back stairs as quietly as possible, all Robert could hear was the thundering of his heart and his breathing, convinced it was so loud it would make him easily detectable.

He’d gone to the trouble of wearing his little-used dress suit so he would blend in with the customers and just had to enter somewhere that would bring him into a main area, rather than the parts with reception desks or added security.

Nearing the top of the stairs, Robert heard the muffled sound of the cabaret, but as to where it was coming from exactly, he couldn’t gauge. He stared at the metal door in front of him. Fuck. It might be a fire door and if he opened it, it could trigger an alarm. But apart from going back down the stairs he didn’t have any other options. He’d been undetected so far and he wanted it to stay that way.

Throwing caution to the wind, Robert gave the door a hefty shove and it opened out onto a square lobby. Glancing to his left, he saw the back of the bruiser doorman and quickly ducked back behind the door into the stairwell. This was the main lobby, but the reception desk wasn’t manned.

Peering back out, he spied the double doors opposite and another set to the left, as well as a single door off to the right. Which ones led upstairs and which opened onto the main club?

Robert’s breath hitched. He couldn’t afford to be spotted by the doorman, who luckily for him was busy on his phone. He had to make a decision and fast.

LENA SCRUTINISED HERSELF in the trifold vanity mirror of her dressing table. Her lashes were looking a bit ropey and spidery around the edges. She’d have to order a few more pairs and get what was left of her real ones dyed again before the wedding.

She smiled, checking her lips were symmetrically plump. They wouldn’t need topping up for a few months yet either. She had toyed with the idea of getting them done again, but it was too much of a risk. One of the times she’d had fillers her lips had taken a few days before they settled down and she didn’t want to risk anything like that happening so close to the big day.

No, she’d do just perfectly, thank you. It was all good. And next Friday she’d be meeting Uncle Ron. It was disappointing that Auntie Noeleen couldn’t make the new date, but at least Uncle Ron was coming.

Lena placed her mascara back on the dressing table. Despite all of the bad feeling resulting from her decision to leave in the first place, she missed her family greatly, but this marriage to Jonah would show her sentiments were for valid reasons. If it didn’t, then at least she’d be nicely well off.

It was also possible things could go the other way when the truth came out. She patted her kitchen roll bump. But whilst this was in situ she couldn’t see it going in any other way but hers. It would be ok. It would. And there wasn’t long to wait now.

Glancing up at the sound of the doorbell, Lena huffed. Who the bloody hell was that?

Getting up, she moved to the bedroom window and craned her neck, but couldn’t see past the porch overhang. She’d told Jonah they needed cameras installed that could be seen from any room, but he’d always been reluctant; coming out with crap that the day he lived like someone from Star Trek was the day his reputation no longer proceeded him, signifying he was finished.

Lena couldn’t envisage Jonah ever being finished and wanted the cameras regardless.

Begrudgingly making her way down the galleried landing, the doorbell rang again, this time more urgently. She tutted in irritation. Why did the postman insist on ringing the bell over and over? Why couldn’t they leave the bloody parcels on the doorstep? It wasn’t like anyone would pinch something from this house.

Lena’s eyes brightened. Maybe it was her dress? She’d received an email from the bridal company saying it had been despatched via courier so it could be that. Oh, she hoped so. She couldn’t wait to see it. The dress she’d commissioned may have cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth every penny. Jonah wanted her to look the business on their wedding day, didn’t he?

Reaching the bottom of the