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Keith Dixon

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  • Herausgeber: Keith Dixon
  • Kategorie: Krimi
  • Sprache: Englisch
  • Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
Beschreibung

Private Investigator Sam Dyke is hired to find a man who’s been released from prison and subsequently gone missing. But the ex-con is an ex-cop who might have been imprisoned for a crime that he didn’t commit. Working for the man’s daughter, Sam soon discovers that this isn’t just a missing persons case – there are other people involved, including the owner of a high-profile casino and a senior police officer. And when the brutal representatives of an Asian gambling syndicate show up with their own brand of persuasiveness, Sam knows that he must put things right before he and everyone he loves become potential targets ...

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THE STRANGE GIRL

KEITH DIXON

 Semiologic Ltd

Copyright

© 2014 by Keith Dixon

First published by Semiologic Ltd

Keith Dixon has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph, photocopy, or any other means, electronic or physical, without express written permission of the author.

Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental and to be deplored.

For information, contact: [email protected]

Cover image © Sarah Dinu

under Creative Commons License https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode

Design by Keith Dixon

Subscribe to the Website at www.keithdixonnovels.com or the Blog at www.cwconfidential.blogspot.com to get The Private Lie, the second in the Sam Dyke series, for free!

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

About the Author

Other Works

CHAPTER ONE

DESPITE WHAT MOST people think about private investigators, I don’t spend all my time waiting in my office for beautiful blonde women with mysterious eyes and long legs to walk in and offer me money to find their missing relatives.

And the first time it happened, it was just my luck she was brought by a cop.

His name was Howard, and I’d had a couple of dealings with him over the years. He was the very embodiment of the word Plod - although he was thin, almost bony, his demeanour was so heavy you felt that if he stood still long enough he’d grow roots.

So when he knocked and poked his head around my office door I wasn’t expecting much in the way of entertainment.

He glanced around the empty room and nodded.

‘You’re in, then.’

‘Apparently.’

‘Got a job for you.’

Perhaps I should have sat up straight and showed some enthusiasm, but to be honest I don’t have a lot of enthusiasm these days. My son, Dan, had traded Bitcoins online for me during the last three months, and I’d done surprisingly well. In fact, the income I’d made in the last three months had outstripped my investigation earnings for the last two years.

Not so good for the motivation.

Now Inspector Howard opened the door wide and stepped back. A young woman walked past him and into my life.

Is that too corny?

Possibly, but that’s what it felt like. She was tall and slender, with the kind of walk that placed one foot in front of the other, like a catwalk model on a tightrope—not that kind of splay-footed amble people usually adopt when entering a space they don’t know. She moved into the room as though she owned it, looked for a seat and commanded it, placing slender hands on either arm of the chair as she sat. It looked grateful to receive her.

She shook her head to release her hair and it bobbed once and settled. It was long and ebony black, framing a pale, oval face with hazel eyes at its centre. She crossed her legs, but she was seated on the far side of my desk so I couldn’t see them. I didn’t need to see them to know they’d be great.

I hadn’t realised I’d stood up until I found myself sitting down. Howard had also come in by now and moved the other client chair to take his place beside her.

I said to the woman, ‘You’re not blonde.’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘We’ll find out. I’m Sam Dyke.’

‘So I’ve heard. Inspector Howard told me that while he wouldn’t trust you, you’d probably do a good job. He said you’d be persistent. Was he right?’

‘Yes. He never trusts me.’

‘But are you persistent?’

‘I keep trying to be. Every now and then I give up.’

She turned to Howard.

‘He thinks he’s funny. Will you tell him, or shall I?’

As she turned, I caught a glimpse of her profile. I’ve seen worse. Straight nose, delicate chin, earlobes like porcelain shells. Long eye-lashes, too, beneath a high and gently-sloping brow. I’ve already mentioned the black hair, but I’ll add the fact that it seemed to fall in natural waves to her shoulders without any help from product or styling.

Howard leaned forward in his chair and placed a hand on my desk.

‘This young lady needs your help, Dyke. I’ve told her you’d do the job. Don’t let me down.’

‘Or what, you’ll never talk to me again? I can live with that.’

He didn’t move and kept staring at me, his lips slightly pursed in irritation.

I shifted my gaze to the woman. ‘You have the advantage of me. You know my name. I don’t know yours.’

‘Let me explain the situation first. Then you can tell me whether you want to hear my name.’

‘I’m all ears.’

She relaxed into the chair, uncrossing her legs and reaching for her handbag. Howard leaned back and looked out of the window behind me, into Crewe town centre, as though trying to demonstrate that he wasn’t going to listen to what she said. Either that or he found shoppers fascinating.

The woman had opened her handbag. She said, ‘Can I smoke?’

‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t. It might set off the fire alarm. I don’t like fires.’

She placed the handbag on the floor again, every action precise as though it had been considered for several minutes beforehand.

She said, ‘My father is Lorenzo Strano, and he was a policeman. Several years ago he was found guilty of selling steroids and was sent to prison. He served eight years and was released last month.’

She paused and I wondered if she was going to cry. She’d given no sign of emotion but there was an intensity in her expression that led me to think she might just burst into tears.

I said, ‘Must have been bad for a policeman in prison.’

‘Probably. I wouldn’t know. Since he’s been released I haven’t seen him.’

Howard said, ‘That’s where you come in.’

The woman glanced sharply at him then turned back to me.

‘When my father was sent to prison my mother took me away. I was seventeen and didn’t argue. I was angry with her and I was angry with him. Can you understand that?’

‘Of course.’

‘After that first year I went away to university and I’ve been away until the last few years. Now I’m back in the area and I’m something I never thought I’d say—I’m a business-woman. I have a good life with good friends and a fancy office.’

I said, ‘But the simple version is that you want me to find your dad?’

‘Your first deduction, I’m impressed.’

‘And what do you want me to do when I find him?’

‘I want you to tell me where he is.’

‘And what will you do then?’

She stared at me. ‘That’s up to me, the client, don’t you think?’

‘Not if you go round to his place with a sawn-off shotgun because he abandoned you and your mother. Not if you set a gang of thugs on him. Do you see my point?’

‘Not entirely. This is a financial transaction, isn’t it?’

‘My point is, what if he doesn’t want you to know where he is, possibly for very good reasons of his own?’

She turned to Howard again.

‘This isn’t going well. Do you have another investigator on your list?’

I said, ‘Look, I’ll find him for you, if that’s what you want. But you have to be prepared for the fact he might not want to be found. You might have a conversation with him and then he vanishes again. Why else do you think he hasn’t been in contact?’

Her lips tightened and her hazel eyes found a touch of steel, and the atmosphere in the room gained a little electricity.

She said, ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but relations between my father and me weren’t always good. You have to remember I was seventeen when all this happened. I daresay I blamed him for breaking up the family. And I daresay I didn’t hide it.’

‘What does your mother think?’

Howard brought his attention back into the room as though a code word had triggered him.

‘Maria died a couple of years ago. Anjelica nursed her but the cancer took her in the end.’

A grateful look passed between the young woman and the policeman, as though he’d said something she couldn’t. And now I had a name - Anjelica Strano. I liked it, though its owner was turning out to be rather spiky.

I said, ‘So now your father’s out of prison and you think he’s steering clear of you because you weren’t getting on. Did it occur to you he might be embarrassed or ashamed? Perhaps he doesn’t want you to see him after eight years in a prison environment. Perhaps he’s got tattoos or was beaten up. Perhaps he wants to be the one who decides when you actually see each other again.’

‘I understand that. But I don’t know for certain, do I?’ She hesitated briefly. ‘I don’t want him to think I bear him a grudge. I’ve grown up. I’ve lost my mother … I don’t want to lose my father as well.’

There was no doubt it was tempting. I would have liked Anjelica Strano as a client. I would have made sure we had regular client meetings, probably in a more relaxed environment than my uncomfortable office.

But her father was an ex-cop. Which meant that to learn anything, I’d probably be talking to other policemen—something neither they nor I would like. Moreover, it seemed like a fool’s errand. If he wanted to talk to his daughter it was his right to choose when and where to do it. There was no reason for me to be mixed up in this, nothing I could use to defend my involvement in the case—if it was even a case.

I said, ‘I appreciate your situation, Miss Strano. But I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you. If I were you, I’d talk to some of his old friends and see if they know where he might have gone.’

Howard interrupted again. ‘We’ve tried that. No one knows anything. That’s why we thought we’d use a professional. But we came to you first.’

I ignored the jibe and so did Anjelica. She said, ‘Don’t you want to know the real reason he was sent to prison?’

‘I don’t see what difference it will make.’

‘He gave up.’

‘You mean he admitted it?’

‘It was a big trial, lots of pressure. TV and newspapers. He was accused of buying and selling steroids from a man working in a gym. There seemed to be no doubt he was guilty. They found steroids in a suitcase in our house and there were witnesses who saw him talking to his supplier and other witnesses who allegedly bought from him.’

‘Sounds open and shut.’

‘But my dad offered no defence. For the first time in his life, he had nothing to say. Just took it, day after day in the dock, saying nothing. Didn’t defend himself.’

The intensity had returned to her face, sharpening her features, putting a light in the back of her eyes. She’d laid a hand on the desk between us. Her fingers were long and slender and tipped with pink.

I said, ‘So why do you think he was silent?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Explain it to me.’

‘He was either guilty or he was protecting someone.’

‘So he put himself in jail? Hard to believe, for a copper. What was his defence team doing?’

‘Nothing. They barely questioned the witnesses and seemed bored most of the time.’

‘You watched it?’

‘A few days. Then I couldn’t stand it. He’d given up, so in the end even I thought he must be guilty. I was young, I didn’t know anything.’

‘Why have you changed your mind?’

‘Because I’m my father’s daughter, and I don’t give up. Like you, I’m persistent.’

TWENTY MINUTES LATER I’d agreed to look for Lorenzo Strano. I didn’t want to and I didn’t need the work. But I couldn’t argue with the strength of the young woman’s conviction and the fact that Howard agreed with her. He was as cold-hearted as they come, so if he’d seen enough to bring her to me, there was probably something in it.

After we’d arranged terms and she’d given me some photos of her father, they both got up to leave.

I said to her, ‘How did you find the Inspector here? Why him?’

‘He knew my father and was the only one to send me a Christmas card every year. Sounds silly, but it meant a lot to us. Everyone else acted as though he’d never existed.’

Howard had turned away but I thought I saw some colour in his cheek.

I said, ‘That’s tough. Coppers usually stick together. It doesn’t bode well. If they didn’t want to speak to you then, it’s not likely they’ll want to speak to me now.’

As if in reply, she handed me an index card on which she’d written two names and telephone numbers.

‘Talk to them. They knew my dad. They wouldn’t talk to the Inspector but then he’s still an officer of the court, as they say. They wouldn’t talk to me because … well, because they know who I am. They’re probably embarrassed.’

‘And you think I can bully them into talking.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way.’

I said to Howard, ‘What’s your opinion? Why do you think he’s gone into hiding?’

‘I don’t have an opinion. You’re on your own with this. I’ve done what I can because I know the family, but I can’t do any more.’

I understood. He was probably acting against policy by steering the young woman towards me in the first place. It was harder these days for individual policemen to act independently, whatever their rank. His hands were almost certainly tied.

He looked as though he might add something but instead just nodded at me and led her to the door. Before she left completely she came back into the room, shook my hand and almost as an afterthought gave me a business card.

She said, ‘About my name. I don’t use Strano any more. There was so much publicity about the case I changed it.’

‘So what do I call you now?’

Before answering she walked back to the doorway then turned to look at me from within her cloud of long black hair.

‘Strano is Italian for “strange”. It was my nickname at school. The Strange girl. You can call me Anjelica Strange.’

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER THEY’D GONE I sat in my chair for a while and stared at the door. Then I stared at the wall, followed by a brief session of staring at the chair in which Anjelica Strange had rested her shapely bottom. Staring seemed to replace thinking for a few minutes, but when I got back to thinking I wondered what I was doing by accepting the case. I didn’t need the hassle of dealing with policemen, current or former, and I wondered whether I’d taken the job simply because I was attracted to Anjelica Strange.

It also struck me that her story was familiar to me in ways I didn’t quite understand. After I’d thought about it longer I realised that her relationship with her father was similar to my relationship with my son, Dan. When we’d first met he’d been angry because he thought I’d made no attempt to find him and possibly rescue him from his foster home. The fact I had no idea he was even alive didn’t reduce his animosity. Anjelica Strange’s intensity when talking about her father reminded me of the fire I’d seen in Dan’s eyes those first few days—the hurt of being overlooked, of being thought inconsequential. I recognised that look in her eyes, having seen it in his.

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