Stay Dead by Jessie Keane Read Free Book Online Page B

is. If you don’t, forget it.’
    The man’s dark eyes were glaring up into Max’s. ‘I will
never
talk,’ he said.
    ‘Now see, that’s annoying,’ said Max, wondering what a Sicilian male would place more value on than loyalty. He thought he knew. He leaned down and unzipped the man’s
fly.
    ‘What are you—’ the man babbled, bleeding, squirming.
    ‘What, you’re like your mate in the wheelchair? You’re prepared to die to keep her secret?’ asked Max. ‘Then you’re going to arrive in hell minus your prick,
you cunt. Now talk, or things get ugly. That’s a promise.’

14
    Oh, the fucking rain. How could she have forgotten about the rain? And the grey skies. A year in Barbados, and now Annie Carter’s default setting was blue skies, white
sand, vivid sunshine.
This
was strange to her, but the damp air and the cool wind reminded her forcibly that this was home, where she was born, where she had spent most of her life. London.
Traffic swooshing by in the downpour as she sat in the taxi from the airport. Grimy buildings looming like canyons overhead as the car edged along in thick traffic, the windscreen wipers sweeping
back and forth in a sleep-inducing rhythm.
    She’d love to sleep. She hadn’t slept on the plane, although she’d tried. Her brain just kept churning over what Tony had told her on the phone the day before yesterday –
that Dolly was gone, lost to her, dead and never to return.
    It choked her up, every time she thought about it.
    And she thought about it all the time.
    She hadn’t even spoken to Dolly recently. They called each other maybe once a month, just for a chat. Annie would ask how the business was going, and Dolly would always say fine and tell
her what the girls in the club had been getting up to. There was always some funny story with one of the punters, Annie always put the phone down laughing.
    The last time they’d spoken had been about a fortnight ago, and then there had been no suggestion that anything was wrong, and Annie had been blissfully unaware that that was the last time
she would ever talk to her friend.
    She just wished that she had been able to speak to Max before she left Prospect. She’d left him a note in their usual place, told the maid where she was going, and to tell him when he got
back, but . . . she’d really needed him there when she got that awful news. And as usual he was away, busy, doing something that didn’t concern her.
    A spasm of hurt lanced her as she thought about that. He was so secretive these days and she was thinking more and more . . . trying not to, but she was thinking that her gut feeling was right,
that he was having an affair. Why else would he not tell her what he was doing, where he was going?
    She was trying not to be all little-wifey and clingy and needy about this, but for God’s sake, he never told her anything! So yes, she felt hurt. And angry. And guilty and afraid, because
she had secrets of her own. And on top of all that, now she had this to deal with – and where was he?
    He’s fucking another woman
. . .
    Stop it!
    Her mind was all over the place. Even things that should have been straightforward, like deciding where she was going to stay in London, had her going round in circles. The Holland Park house
was standing empty, closed up, unstaffed and unwelcoming since Rosa, her old housekeeper, had retired. The Carter firm still owned the three nightclubs – the Palermo Lounge, the Blue Parrot
and the Shalimar – and each had a flat above the premises. But Annie didn’t feel strong enough to go near the Palermo, to set foot in the place where Dolly had been murdered – not
yet, at any rate. Besides, the Bill would have the flat cordoned off as a crime scene; most likely they’d have shut down the club too.
    The Blue Parrot was being run by Gary Tooley, a tall blond vicious man who’d been one of Max’s most trusted foot soldiers for years and who cheerfully hated Annie’s guts, so he