Erotic Amusements
“It’s a lie,” screamed Flipp. “Don’t believe him. Help me.”
“Sorry, sir,” said the senior officer, stopping to look Rhodes up and down for the first time. “This crime has taken place in my jurisdiction. I think I need to ask you both to come with me for further questioning. You’ve arrested the girl, have you? Read her her rights?”
“Yeah. But I’m not coming with you. I need to get her back to London.”
“He’s kidnapping me,” pleaded the exhausted Flipp, her heart banging as she watched Rocky carried out by two burly officers and laid on a stretcher. “Is he alive?” she shouted to them. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Bit concerned for an attempted murderer, isn’t she?” the senior officer remarked. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t let you take her to London. I must insist you accompany me.”
“I’m a detective chief superintendent in the Met,” Rhodes exploded, losing his temper at last. “Who the hell are you? I’ll have your arse for this.”
“I’ll take your word for it, sir. All the same…”
“Wait till I get you home,” Rhodes muttered into Flipp’s ear, then straightened up into a savage smile when the officer looked around and beckoned them to follow him to the car park, where they were helped into the officer’s car and driven away for questioning.
“What happened?” Jeremy hastened over to where Michelle cowered on the bench, still shaking and crying.
“I shouldn’t be crying. I should be glad he got shot,” she mumbled. “But Rocky didn’t deserve it. Not really.”
“Well, if you live by the sword, you die by the sword.” Jeremy shrugged. “I need an eyewitness account, Michelle. Can you give me a quick one?” He put an arm around her trembling shoulders and relented, the empathetic man in him defeating the journalist just this once. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m pushing you. Let me take you home. We’ll talk at my place, yeah?”
“Yeah, thanks.” She accepted his offer with a wobble in her voice, leaning on his arm and walking back, past the crowds of spectators and police, who ignored them all the way to his car. “Do you think he’s dead?”
“Cordwainer? I don’t know. It’d solve a lot of problems if he was, I suppose.”
“I shouldn’t care, should I?”
Jeremy rubbed her arm. “No,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t. And one day you won’t.”
Laura glowered at her father as he picked up the phone.
“I won’t forget about it, Dad. No use trying to deny it. I know what you’ve been getting up to and I think it stinks.”
Councillor Trewin flapped a guilty hand at her and put the phone to his ear.
“Trewin. Hello, yes.”
Laura continued to brood over the morning’s Gazette as her father took the call. Jeremy had been as good as his word and kept the Trewin name out of the paper. All the same, Laura thought it only right and proper that she let her father know what she thought of his illicit activities. Leverage was leverage, after all.
“Are you serious?”
She looked up. Trewin’s face was grey.
“Is he going to be okay? Which hospital is he in? What about the bitch that sold him out? Does anyone know where she is? I see. Well, of course, I don’t. Thanks for letting me know.”
He put down the phone and stood silent for a moment, watching Laura yet not seeming to see her at all.
“Well, you can rest easy now, love,” he said at last. “Looks like my partner in crime might be on the way out.”
“What do you mean? Cordwainer’s ill?”
“He could be dead. Got shot. By that girl from the arcade.”
“Flipp? Seriously?”
“So I’m told.”
“Was, er…” Laura trailed off, not sure whether to ask the question or not, but she needed to know. “Was Rocky with her?”