No Sleep for the Dead

Chapter 24

The sound of the shot wasn’t as loud as Riley expected. A vague corner of her mind rationalised that Mr Grobowski downstairs wouldn’t have heard anything, as he was too busy banging his pots and pans in the kitchen. Even so, she flinched at the shockwaves in the air.

Szulu spun away with a cry of pain, clutching his left arm. When he straightened up and took his hand away, there was a hole in the sleeve of his jacket and a trace of blood was beginning to spread through the material.

‘Fuck, man — you shot me!’ he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe such a thing. ‘What you do that for?’

‘Damn, that was careless,’ commented Mitcheson mildly. He looked at Riley and continued as if discussing the matter with a new recruit, ‘They don’t always work after jamming like that; they usually need stripping down. Good job I was aiming at his head — I might have hit something serious, otherwise.’

Riley said nothing, too stunned to speak yet feeling an irrational urge to laugh. It had all happened so fast. She was mesmerised by the ease with which Mitcheson had shot her attacker, yet aware of the evident care he had taken not to kill him, in spite of his anger.

As if to demonstrate this, he grabbed Szulu by his good arm and slammed him against the wall. ‘Now, before I get really annoyed at you for frightening my girlfriend, what’s this about?’

‘John, wait.’ Riley stepped quickly alongside him and placed a hand on his arm. ‘He said he had a message for me. I want to hear what it is.’

Mitcheson lifted an eyebrow. ‘Really? Boy, Fedex must have really changed their core business.’ He jammed the gun barrel beneath Szulu’s chin and nudged it upwards until their eyes met. Whatever Szulu saw there made him go very still.

‘Let’s hear it.’

‘It’s…yo, man, this really hurts, y’know!’ Szulu sucked air through his teeth and held his wounded arm, until Mitcheson dropped the gun and pointed it menacingly against the man’s good shoulder. ‘Okay… okay. The message is… Christ, I don’t understand it, but she said to tell you-’

‘She?’ Mitcheson echoed.

‘Some woman called Fraser,’ Riley explained helpfully. ‘She hired him to drive for her. She’s been hanging around, but we don’t know who she is or what she wants. They already turned over Palmer’s office.’

‘So they’re not part of the other thing you told me about?’

‘Radnor? It doesn’t look like it.’

‘She said to tell you,’ continued Szulu, ‘she said you’d know what she meant. She said, ‘Lottie’s back’. That’s all, I swear. ‘Lottie’s back’.’ He slumped back with a sigh as Riley and Mitcheson exchanged stunned looks.

‘Lottie Grossman?’ Riley could hardly believe it. The name sent her thoughts spinning back to an assignment in Spain, when she had first met John Mitcheson. It was also the first occasion she and Palmer had worked together, and they had nearly lost their lives investigating the activities of the murderous ex-gangster’s wife and her gang of mercenaries. ‘I thought she’d be dead by now.’

‘Wishful thinking,’ said Mitcheson. ‘Never bloody works when you want it to.’

‘Of course!’ Riley said excitedly. ‘That explains the gardening bit in Palmer’s office. The evil cow was a mad keen gardener, wasn’t she?’

Mitcheson nodded. When Lottie wasn’t busy plotting, she had spent most of her time in the garden, armed with something sharp. ‘She just liked killing things. Weeds were a ready victim. She certainly put a lot of enthusiasm into it.’

Szulu looked from one to the other as if they were mad, and gestured towards the door. ‘Look, I hate to interrupt, but can I go now? I need a doctor.’

Mitcheson looked at Riley. ‘You got a small towel you don’t mind losing?’

Riley went into the kitchen and came back with a handful of paper towelling. Mitcheson made Szulu strip off his jacket and gave his arm a cursory examination. There was an entry wound but no exit, and he guessed the jacket and Szulu’s arm muscle, and maybe a poor charge in the cartridge, had combined to reduce the round’s velocity. He slapped the wadded tissue unceremoniously against the wound. ‘Hold that in place and don’t get excited, and you might not bleed to death.’

‘Wha-? Hey — I need proper medical attention, not this stuff!’

‘And you’ll get it. First, you talk. What’s with the mad Lottie? She after revenge or is she trying to make another comeback?’

Szulu frowned. ‘Huh?’

‘She used to run a gang, a few years back. Clubs, drugs, girls… that sort of stuff. You didn’t know?’

‘You kidding me? That old woman?’ Szulu almost laughed at the idea, then clearly thought better. ‘I ain’t surprised. She’s cold. Way cold. I don’t know about no comeback, though. But revenge, definitely. She said so, in fact. She hired me as a driver, see — and minder. First we went to Palmer’s place. But he wasn’t there. She seemed to be looking for something at his place, but she never told me what. Maybe she didn’t know herself. Fact is, she never told me nothing until it was almost too late. Then she told me he was some hotshot ex-army cop.’ Szulu looked aggrieved at the idea and shook his head. ‘Then she decided she wanted me to put the frights into her.’ He nodded at Riley, before quickly looking at Mitcheson. ‘But I was never going to hurt her — honest. It seemed like Grossman was building up to something… getting herself all wired up and that, but she didn’t say what it was.’

‘Revenge?’ said Riley. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘She told me Palmer had caused her old man’s death and spoiled some plans, and you’d helped him. It’s obvious, isn’t it? She was pissed and wanted payback. Said something about how she’d been waiting long enough and now was the time, before it was too late. Too late for what, she never said. Personally, I think she’s nuts. But that’s all I know, I promise.’

‘So why this?’ Mitcheson waved the.22 in the air. ‘You’re no gunman.’

‘It was for protection, man, what else?’ Szulu glanced down at his arm and hissed quietly as a wave of pain hit him.

‘But Lottie Grossman always flies mob-handed,’ said Mitcheson thoughtfully. ‘It’s the only way she knows. Are you saying there’s nobody else out there?’

Szulu looked from one to the other, a variety of expressions crossing his face. Then he said quietly. ‘Sort of.’

‘Sort of?’

‘Wait — it’s not like you think. See, I got into this problem. There’s this south London guy named Ragga Pearl. He’s bad news — I mean really bad. A gangsta dude with delusions. With Ragga, if he wants to hurt someone, he don’t think twice about it. Think of the worst person you ever knew, jack it up by a hundred, and you’d have the Ragga. He’s a real mamba on two legs. Anyway, he thinks I disrespected him, but I didn’t. See, he’s got this whole thing going about respect, and is totally crazy into the bargain — I mean lethal, right?’ He winced, but this time it didn’t seem connected with the pain in his arm. ‘I also owe him some cash, which was stupid, borrowing off a freak like him, but whatever. At the time, I was desperate.’

‘How does this mesh with Lottie Grossman?’ asked Riley impatiently.

‘I’m coming to it, right? I don’t know how Grossman connected with a guy like Ragga Pearl, her being old and white an’ all. I mean, it shouldn’t happen, even with all this multi-cultural crap they spilling out these days. You don’t mix lions with zebras, right? I reckon they must know people in common, is all I can think of. Anyway, I been expecting like the roof to fall in on me for about two weeks now, what with the way Ragga is. But next thing I know is, he calls me and tells me I’m working for this white woman until he decides otherwise.’

Mitcheson asked, ‘Doing what?’

‘He says I’m to do what she says, go where she wants, stuff like that. He says she wants someone followed and needs a guy who knows the moves, you know?’

‘Moves?’

‘Yeah. The street. How to move around but stay out of trouble. He says he told her I was good for that, and then he tells me if it goes down well, the debt’s paid off.’

‘Why?’

Szulu scowled. ‘Why? ‘Cos this is the Ragga. He don’t need no reasons, man. He just does stuff. It’s all part of his controlling shit…so he can pull strings and make like he runs this business fuckin’ empire. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t got an angle going, which in this case is earning money off the old woman for me being a modern-day slave. Only he ain’t gonna tell me his reasons, is he? All I know is, I do like the woman says, and maybe I’ll get out from under Ragga’s thumb, which is fuckin’ ace with me.’ He shrugged, which made him wince again. ‘You ask me, I reckon he knows stuff about this Grossman woman. Stuff he doesn’t let on about. But that’s Ragga, man. He’s always looking for an advantage.’ He managed what could have been a smile of admiration. ‘First she’ll know about it is when he drops a thunderbolt on her head.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ muttered Mitcheson. He looked at Riley. ‘She’s quick off the mark, I’ll give her that. Her and her time might be long gone, but she’s cottoned on fast to who the new boys in town are.’

Riley shrugged. ‘Different style, same aims. She needed someone cheap, and Ragga sold her this mutt.’

But Szulu was in full, resentful flow and appeared not to have heard the exchange. ‘Thing is, she never kept me in the loop about nothing. It was like everything was this big secret, and I was driving blind all the time. And there was Ragga always in the background. She even threatened to put in a bad word with him when I questioned her once; said she never put up with disloyalty, not ever. I mean, what was that about? It wasn’t like I was a kid or she owned me… but she acted like she did.’

‘That’s Lottie for you,’ said Riley. ‘Mad as a mongoose.’

‘Bless her,’ Mitcheson agreed. ‘So you don’t know anyone called-’ He looked at Riley.

‘Radnor,’ she put in. ‘Or Michael — he’s a Russian.’

Szulu shook his head. ‘No, never heard of them. Far as I know, Ragga don’t mix with no Russians. Like I said, no-one else was involved.’

‘Okay,’ said Mitcheson. ‘Is that it?’

Szulu nodded. ‘That’s it, man. See, I got the gun in case the Ragga come calling, or maybe the old woman decided to do something crazy. That was all.’ He looked at Riley. ‘I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean no real harm, only… it kind of ran away from me.’ He switched his gaze to Mitcheson and stood up straighter, lifting his chin. ‘That’s straight up, man.’

Mitcheson nodded. He sensed Szulu was telling the truth, it had all poured out so freely. Now he wanted out. ‘Fair enough. So what were you supposed to do after delivering the message?’

Szulu shrugged. ‘Go meet the old witch and tell her I done the deed. Then wait for her to tell me what she wants to do next. Only, I got a feeling she might not make it.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘She’s old, man. And sick. She had some sort of attack at her hotel, and it’s made her even more unpredictable. You want my opinion, she’s running out of juice.’

‘A heart attack?’

‘Don’t know, man. I ain’t no doctor. She got some pills that seem to help, and I’m supposed to pick up some more from a pharmacy, but I can’t second-guess her, you know? All I know is, I got to get away from her and Ragga, or I’m dead meat.’

Mitcheson pulled him away from the wall. ‘Then you’d better get going, hadn’t you? One thing, though.’ He leaned close to Szulu and stared intently at him. ‘You say a thing to Lottie about me and I’ll know. You’d also better not come back here. You dig?’

Szulu nodded and swallowed, not liking what he saw in the other man’s eyes. ‘Yeah, man. I dig.’

They listened to Szulu stumbling down the stairs and out the front door, before Riley turned to Mitcheson and leaned against him with a sigh of relief.

‘Do you believe him — about him being Lottie’s only man?’

Mitcheson shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. You know Lottie: she never employs one man where two or three will do better. But maybe she didn’t have a choice. Could be she’s firing on a low fuel tank. I think you’d better keep an eye out for anyone else who might be working for this Ragga Pearl. Just to be safe.’

‘I don’t want to sound like a helpless female,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m so glad you turned up when you did.’ She reached round behind her and pushed the hand holding the gun away so that he could put it down. ‘Especially before I used that.’

Mitcheson grinned and held her close. ‘Me, too. You’d have probably missed and made a mess of the wall.’

She slapped him on the arm. ‘You rat. You know what I mean.’ She had to crane her neck to look up at him, taking in the familiar easy smile and dark hair, liking the way it curled just behind his ears. ‘You called me your girlfriend.’

‘Did I? Damn. The things I say when I’m under stress.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘Was that the bloke you were watching?’

She nodded, embarrassed that she had been followed all the way home. ‘I thought I’d left him at the hotel with Mrs Fraser — or Lottie, I should say — but he must have seen me leave. He arrived too soon after I got back for it to have been a coincidence. Palmer would be so disgusted-’

He put a finger on her lips to silence her, aware that there was a thin line between relief and a sense of reliving events bordering on hysteria. He made her concentrate on saying hello properly, making up for lost time until they were forced to come up for air. Then he noticed the laptop lying on the floor. ‘Is that yours?’

‘Yes. But I hadn’t got anything else to chuck at him.’ Riley disentangled herself and picked up the machine. She switched it on and was rewarded with the usual hum of activity and the opening tunes. ‘Thank goodness. At least I’ve got some notes I can send Donald. That reminds me.’ She picked up her phone and dialled Donald’s number, and related what had happened along with the discovery that Lottie Grossman was back on the scene.

‘Do you want me to inform the police?’ said Donald. ‘I’m pretty sure there are still warrants out for her.’

‘No,’ said Riley. ‘At least, not yet. It sounds like she’s in a bad way, and the man she’s using has been, well, dissuaded.’ She glanced at Mitcheson and reached out to take his hand.

‘Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.’

‘Thanks, Donald. Actually, it might be worth tapping into that database of yours and seeing if there’s anything on Lottie. I think she’s living abroad, but I wonder if she’s got any resources here.’

‘I’ll do it straight away.’ She heard a keyboard being used. ‘Didn’t she once have a house in Buckinghamshire?’

‘Yes.’ Riley gave him the address and said she’d wait to hear from him, then switched off and turned to Mitcheson. ‘He’ll ring back if he finds anything.’

Mitcheson smiled and took hold of her. ‘Let’s hope he takes his time.’

‘If he doesn’t, I’ll never forgive him. How much time do you have?’

‘Enough. Just.’

Behind them, the cat appeared from the kitchen and sat watching, neat and tidy as if Szulu had never intruded. Riley sensed his presence and disengaged herself long enough to turn and say with a smile: ‘Top shelf tea for you tonight, my brave boy.’

The cat sniffed haughtily, before turning on his heels and walking away.

Szulu climbed in the car and stared through the windscreen, eyes on the house where Riley Gavin lived. Apart from the excruciating pain in his arm, he was feeling bruised and humiliated and wasn’t sure what he was going to do about any of it. His options were limited. He knew of a former surgeon who’d been caught playing hide the stethoscope with a patient in an empty operating theatre. The man sometimes took on a bit of back-street work for ready cash and no questions asked, so maybe he’d give him a call. It would cost, but it was better than going to a hospital, where they’d report gunshot wounds the moment he walked in. Before they finished their stitching, he’d find himself pinned to the bed by an Armed Response Unit. No way would they believe he’d been shot accidentally by a drive-by, which had been his first planned explanation.

Oddly enough, though, he felt relieved. Even with the constant threat of Ragga lurking in the background, he’d decided this whole business had gone far enough. No matter what Lottie Grossman said or did, no way was he going back anywhere near Frank Palmer, Riley Gavin or the big lug who’d just put the shot in his arm without hesitation. He shivered, partly through the onset of shock, but mainly at remembering the complete absence of expression on the man’s face as he’d pulled the trigger. Like he was swatting a fly.

He started the car and nudged it into gear with a grunt of pain, then headed towards south London. He’d get his arm fixed, then go back and face the old woman. Whether he’d tell her what had happened in detail was something he’d decide at the time. If she didn’t like it, she’d have to go look for another gofer — preferably a stupid one with a death wish.