No Kiss For The Devil

35

Riley ran outside and saw a taxi depositing a fare. She jumped in and told the driver her address, then sat in mute impatience while he explained cheerfully about a problem on the Underground which had made taxis as scarce as hens’ teeth. Riley ignored him, watching as each street sign and landmark reeled by in horribly grinding slow-motion.

She checked her watch, although time was unimportant, and was surprised to find that it was already past one o’clock. Had the meeting lasted so long?

She dialled Palmer’s number repeatedly, each time getting an unobtainable message. He was either out of reach or his phone was dead. Thinking that word made her cringe inwardly, remembering the threats made at the hotel. But she told herself that the man didn’t know about Palmer, otherwise he would have produced a photo of him, too.

When the taxi arrived at the house, Riley thrust some money in the driver’s lap, and was out and running before he had stopped.

Inside, she found Mr Grobowski sitting on the stairs, cradling his head in his hands. The elderly Pole was moaning softly, rocking gently from side to side.

‘Mr G?’ She knelt down beside him, her heart flipping. ‘Where’s Cat?’

He lifted his head and pointed towards his flat. His craggy face was puffed with anger and sorrow, and he tried hard to meet Riley’s eyes. ‘The vet she is come… I could not take Lipinski to that place-’ He wrung his hands together and shook his head. ‘I so sorry.’

Riley grabbed him by both arms. ‘You did the right thing, Mr G,’ she told him firmly. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to do it, either. Tell me what happened.’

‘This man, he comes to the door. I think he is salesmans, or maybe a religious persons. I tell him we are not interested. But he a buhaj — a bull — and push past me like I not exist and ask where is animals. Without thinking, I say cat is in my flat, but why? He don’t say nothing and go inside.’ He shuddered and took a deep gulp of air. ‘I follow, telling him to get out… and then I see he has a gun. Black and shiny… not very big. I can’t believe it. Then he see Lipinski.’ He moaned softly. ‘Lipinski know he bad mans and show a fierce face. But the mans, he… he just shoot him and walk away. No words… just walking away. And Lipinski-’

Riley turned away and stepped through Mr Grobowski’s front door.

The first thing she saw was a woman in slacks and a blue jacket, kneeling on the floor. Beside her was a black case with the lid thrown open. It contained a variety of instruments, boxes and sterile packs, and a roll of medical gauze, ripped open with one end hanging loose.

But it was the cat which drew Riley’s gaze. Stretched out on the floor with its mouth open, it had a sticky-looking wet patch showing on its neck, the fur spiky and disturbed. There was no sign of breathing.

Riley dropped to her knees, a sob gathering in her throat. How could this animal be so long… and so thin, she thought distractedly, noting the length from battered nose to tabby tail. He’d always been such a bruiser. And with everything Mr Grobowski fed him, he should have died of over-eating, of a diet enriched by too many meatballs and other Polish delights, not… not this horror. She reached out to cradle him, certain her heart was going to tear its way out of her ribs. What evil bastard could have done this?

‘Don’t do that!’ The vet spoke sharply, reaching out to stop Riley touching the animal. ‘I need to get him to the surgery. He’s lost a lot of blood.’

‘What?’ Riley stared at the woman in confusion, wanting to tell her that her job was over, that she hadn’t come in time, that it was all too late. ‘I don’t understand.’

Then the cat opened one eye and saw her. It mewed, his mouth barely open but the sound surprisingly deep and resentful, protesting about the indignity of what had happened.

‘He’s alive?’ Riley was stunned.

‘He’s lucky.’ The vet replied pragmatically, pressing a pad against the cat’s neck and skilfully securing it in place with what seemed like several feet of bandage. ‘He’s built like a baby elephant, otherwise he’d have been dead. The slug wasn’t a big one, but it looks like it went through the fat behind his neck and nicked the scapula.’

‘The what? What does that mean?’ Riley tried to process her limited knowledge of anatomy into some sort of positive news. What the hell was a scapula? Wasn’t it what doctors used to hold down a patient’s tongue?

‘It’s the shoulder to you,’ the vet explained. ‘I won’t know how serious it is until I give him a thorough examination and an x-ray. If there’s no major damage or complications, he’ll come out of this with nothing more than a nasty scar and a bald patch to show his mates. Just hope it hasn’t hit the brachial artery.’ She finished off the bandaging with some adhesive wrap to hold it in place and jumped to her feet.

Mr Grobowski had heard the words and came rushing in to stand behind them. He moaned with relief, clearly having believed the worst had happened. ‘Is miracle! Lipinski…’

The vet gave them each a stern look. ‘Look, you two can do all that stuff later. Right now, we need to get him to where I can treat him. One of you hold the door, the other get my bag. My car’s outside. I’ve put a pressure pad on to stem the bleeding, but we can’t hang about.’ She looked first at the elderly Pole, but he was wringing his hands together, his face twisted with relief. She turned to Riley instead, indicating her black case. ‘Take a visiting card out of the lid and ring the surgery. Tell them what’s happened and that we’re on the way in. They’ll get the theatre cleared and prepped.’ She bent and scooped up the cat with great care, then added, ‘I’ll have to report this, you know. Shootings of any kind… the police have to be told.’

‘Of course.’ Riley grabbed a card and reached for her mobile, glad to be able to do something. The moment she got the chance, she was going to ask Mr Grobowski for a fuller description of the man who had done this, although somehow, that didn’t really matter. She already knew who was to blame.