Dead Of Winter (Willis/Carter #1)(52)

‘Yes. But not now and not later this evening, I have plans. Come and find me tomorrow.’

Ebony waited for Carter to catch up. He was taking his time. He called her over to take a look at the Ferrari.

‘Interesting choice of slipway this, Ebb. Not many you could get down without a four by four. Not many people know about this one, not the general public anyway.’ They stood watching the red Ferrari as the crane held it a few feet over the slipway; a loader turned up ready to take it. Carter walked across to the man driving the crane.

‘Let’s make sure she’s not holding any more surprises. Set her down on the slipway for me before you load her.’

While they waited for the car to be lowered Ebony turned to Carter:

‘Sarge, I saw Carmichael.’

‘When?’

‘A few hours ago on my way back to the office. He stopped me when I came out of the Tube. Bridget must have told him I visited the farm.’

‘You should have told me straight away, Ebb. ‘

‘I was trying to get a chance, Sarge.’

Carter turned to face her and took a step closer to make sure that in the still damp air his voice didn’t carry as far as the officers around the car.

‘What did he say?’

‘He knows everything we do.’

‘Did he know about Sonny?’

She nodded. ‘He told me that he was a small part of it and not important.’

He gave a nod towards the Ferrari. ‘Obviously someone agreed with him.’

‘He’s going undercover. He says he can infiltrate Sonny’s organization.’

‘Like this? Dead men’s shoes, is it, Ebb? Was this Carmichael’s doing?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Sarge.’ She’d had a sick feeling that wouldn’t go away, ever since she heard of Sonny’s body being found.

Carter looked away to gather his thoughts. ‘You know if we tell Davidson that we have the slightest inkling this could be Carmichael’s work then he’ll arrest him.’ She nodded. ‘Did he say anything that might tell you what his plans are, where he’s staying?’ She shook her head. ‘After all this time he can get in undercover? Shit. I take my hat off to him, Ebb. He must have had some very clever help. Or he must be taking an incredible gamble.’ Carter looked across at her and smiled reassuringly. ‘Okay. The main thing is he trusts you, Ebb. There’s nothing to really tell Davidson. We didn’t learn anything from him that’s new. But we did get closer to him and that’s a good start and it will do for now. But next time you tell me as soon as something happens, okay?’

She nodded.

‘Start trusting, Ebb. You’re not a one-man band. We’re a team.’





Chapter 33


That evening Jo Harding waited for the young Irish barman from Cork to come back her way.

He’d stopped to chat with a couple of girls who were on a Friday night out. Harding tapped her new nails against the side of her glass. He glanced her way and then back at the girls, his elbow on the bar, his smile fixed. Even as he sauntered over he kept glancing back to the girls to make sure they were checking out his rear view.

Harding was irritated: who the fuck did he think he was, keeping her waiting? She pushed the glass towards him. ‘Same again.’ He smiled at her, not open-mouthed, not full like he did to the girls at the other end of the bar. He smirked almost. Fuck him . . . she would remember not to suck his cock the next time she took him home. She was aware of someone standing next to her. She turned to see the good-looking face of James Martingale.

‘Hello, beautiful . . . as lovely as ever.’ He leant in to kiss her.

‘Good to see you, James.’ Harding smiled. He was still the charmer. Seldom did she see the charm offensive aimed at her but now she felt its full impact.

Fucking men . . . how come they get better-looking as they get older? Martingale definitely had, she thought. He had that confidence that says, I will be great in the bedroom; I have studied every book written about how to bring a woman to orgasm.

The barman left the girls and came over. He looked suitably impressed by Martingale, who cut a very distinguished moneyed look.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘A Manhattan, and put my lovely companion’s on my tab.’

He turned to Harding. ‘Let’s move to a table.’ He picked up her drink and turned to the waiter: ‘Have my drink brought up.’ Then he led the way upstairs to the restaurant.

After they had ordered he sat back and smiled at her. ‘What’s it been – three years? You look younger than ever. You had some work I don’t know about? I need to know who the surgeon is if so. I need to congratulate him.’

‘That’s a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one but I think I should thank you. No work, and no chance I actually look as good as you’re implying.’

He smiled and reached over to touch her hand. ‘It’s good to see you. I hope it wasn’t a problem to tear yourself away tonight.’

‘How could I turn down an invite from the mighty James Martingale . . . I’m honoured.’

‘Please . . . and it’s not as if we don’t know one another.’

She laughed. ‘Is there something I don’t remember? I apologize if that’s so. Obviously I wasn’t that bad if you’ve come back for more, even if you did leave me waiting three years.’