Ruth tilted her head sharply to one side and pressed her fingers under the angle of her jaw. “Just behind the jawbone here, there’s a very vulnerable blood vessel. Rupture that and you’re brain-dead in seconds. Normally it’s protected by the jaw. And by the way we instinctively duck our heads when any threat approaches. It’s almost impossible to hit accidentally, but it could be caused by, for example, a stiff-fingered karate blow to the neck.”
“And Dennis was a Para,” I said hollowly.
“Dennis was indeed a Para. He says he never learned any karate in the service, but we both know what a bugger it is to try proving a negative.”
“So the police are saying that Dennis was there, Dennis had good reason to get into a ruck with Pit Bull Kelly, so Dennis must have murdered him then emptied his stock out of the shop to cover his tracks?”
Ruth nodded. “That’s about the size of it. That, or Dennis caught Pit Bull Kelly in the act of stealing all his stock.”
“What’s Dennis’s version?”
“Perfectly plausible, as you’d expect. According to him, the landlord turned up yesterday with a couple of heavies who were even bigger than Keith. He gave Dennis twenty-four hours to get out or suffer the consequences. Dennis thought this was a not unreasonable proposition, so he spent yesterday evening with Keith and a couple of the lads, loading the stock into a van. Keith and the others went off with the van around half past nine, and Dennis went home, where he spent the rest of the evening watching a video with Debbie. They then went to bed, together, and woke up, again together, at around eight this morning.”
“That’s his alibi? The blonde with no brain?”
“The blonde with no brain who has previously been caught out giving him false alibis,” Ruth said drily.
“Wasn’t Christie home?” I asked. Dennis’s daughter obviously couldn’t testify that he’d been in bed all night, but at least she’d have been a more credible witness to his TV viewing.
“She stayed overnight with a friend.” Ruth carefully placed her empty cup on the side table. “I won’t deny it’s looking bad, Kate.”
I nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
Ruth stood up and enveloped herself in the fake fur. “I know Dennis will appreciate it. I think they’ll probably charge him tomorrow and bring him before the Mags on Monday. Once he’s remanded, you’ll be able to visit him and see if there’s anything he can tell you that he’d prefer me not to know. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
We hugged, the silken fur stroking my face. “Just leave the coat,” I said. “I’ve got to go to Saddleworth.”
Ruth groaned. “It’s not the coat you’ll need, it’s a team of huskies and a sled. You’re surely not going there for pleasure, are you?”
I laughed. “They do pleasure in Saddleworth? A place where their idea of a good time is brass bands, Morris dancing and the annual Ducking of the Greenfield Trollop? I don’t think so.”
“So, strictly business,” Ruth said, adjusting her pelt so not a breath of chill air could penetrate. “No fun Saturday night with Richard, then.”
“He’s probably babysitting,” I said, more of an edge in my voice than I’d intended.
Ruth’s eyebrows rose. “The boy getting broody, is he?”
“If he is, he’s wasting his energy,” I told her firmly.
“I’d keep an eye on that, if I were you,” Ruth said ominously as she swept out.
Where would we be if it wasn’t for the love and support of our friends?
Chapter 12
MERCURY SQUARES THE ASCENDANT
She is inclined to keep her own counsel, but can’t resist poking her nose into everybody else’s business. She’s never quite got to grips with the idea that there are times when it’s tactful to keep her advice to herself. She is a quick worker, energetic and inventive. She tends to be a chameleon, appearing all things to all people.
From Written in the Stars, by Dorothea Dawson
It’s not often I feel sorry for journalists. But I had to admit my heart went out to the handful of hacks still staking out the entrance to Gloria’s enclave. The temperature was already below zero, and the interiors of their cars were no match for a winter’s night on the edge of Saddleworth Moor. They perked up momentarily when I swung into the narrow lane, a couple of them even getting out and trotting through the freezing slush in my wake.
But I was through the gate and gone long before they caught up. I hadn’t had to use the intercom; I’d phoned Donovan just as I was approaching precisely so I wouldn’t have to run the gutter-press gauntlet. As I got out of the car, Gloria appeared in her doorway. She was wearing a high-necked, sparkling, midnight-blue evening dress that hung straight down from her bosom in an elegant fall. On her feet were glittering gold strappy sandals. She looked ready for the Oscars on a balmy California evening, not a charity auction in a Manchester hotel on the coldest night of the year. My charcoal wool crepe suit that doubles up for evening wear and impressing the hell out of clients left me feeling seriously underdressed. Gloria clearly agreed.
“You do know this is a black-tie affair?” she asked.
“I’m a minder, not a model,” I snapped, forcing her to step
“Everything under control,” he reported, thrusting his big hands into the pockets of his jeans, which made his shoulders look even more like an American footballer’s padding. “Are you going to drop me off in town, or what?”
Gloria swept past me and slipped her arm through one of Donovan’s. His eyes widened like a startled Bambi. “Kate, don’t you think it would be better if Donovan escorted me tonight? All I’m thinking is that you’ve been splashed all over the papers, and I don’t want you to have to spend your evening fending off nosy parkers.”
She didn’t want anyone stealing her limelight, more like. Besides, women like Gloria like to impress people. What better fashion accessory than a drop-dead-gorgeous toy boy like Donovan? That would take everyone’s mind off death threats and on to prurient scandal. “I thought you just said it was black tie,” I said sourly.
Gloria gazed up at Donovan. “Have you not got a dinner jacket, chuck?”
“Sorry, no.” Relief relaxed his features into a smile.
“Never mind,” Gloria said. “Harry Gershon the tailor’s on the committee for tonight’s do. I’ll give him a bell and you can tell him your measurements and he’ll bring a suit along.”
“Oh,” Donovan croaked. “But …”
Gloria gave him the hundred-watt smile. I could see sweat on his upper lip and it was nothing to do with the central heating. “We’ll have a great time, Donovan. I promise you.” Her throaty chuckle left almost nothing to the imagination.
“That might not be such a bad idea,” I said slowly, an idea beginning to form.
“But Kate,” Donovan protested, apprehension and betrayal in his voice.
“If I take Gloria’s car and shove a Brenda wig over my hair, I can act as a decoy and pull the press off. Then you’ll get a clear run into town. I’ve got some work to do digging into Dorothea’s past, so
Donovan looked like I’d just given him life with a recommendation for twenty-five years. “You mean you want me to carry on bodyguarding Gloria?” he asked desperately.
“At least, chuck,” Gloria purred, delighted to be getting her own way.
“And I’ll pick Gloria up later at the hotel and bring her back here,” I said sweetly, enjoying the irritation that flashed in her eyes as she watched her bubble burst.