Delilah was feeling surprisingly good, considering that she’d had little sleep for the last forty-eight hours, had spent the day in a state of high tension and had then been shot. Sitting there in the Fleece, the buzz of excited conversation filling the room, Tolpuddle a warm weight on her feet, she was finally relaxing, no doubt helped by the painkillers the hospital had given her. On the other side of the table, DC Green was talking to Frank Thistlethwaite, Delilah only really half listening. Her attention was across the pub on Samson, who was standing at the bar, partly visible through the crowd of locals.
Since the shooting up at the quarry, it was like there was suddenly a massive magnet on his back, her focus constantly pulled towards him, her lips constantly curving into a smile at the sight of him. She knew he felt the same. All the way to the hospital they’d lain in the ambulance, just smiling stupidly at each other, Tolpuddle between them.
It felt good. Knowing that they’d come through the day. Knowing that they’d come through all the deceit and deception there’d been between them, finally out the other side and able to start building what she was sure was going to be something wonderful.
So yes, Delilah Metcalfe was feeling upbeat about life. Until there was a slight movement in the throng of people in front of her and through the gap that formed, she saw a distinctive looking woman leaning in towards Samson to whisper something to him. A woman who oozed poise and sophistication and effortless enchantment. Then her scarlet lips were kissing Samson on the cheek and she was walking out of the pub, Troy agog with awe as he watched her departure from behind the bar.
Another shift in the crowd and the gap closed, leaving Delilah staring at Clive Knowles and wondering if she’d just imagined the entire thing.
‘So,’ DC Green was saying, ‘seeing as I’m staying for a bit, I’d love to know what you did with the tracker I gave you.’
‘What? Sorry?’ Realising the detective was speaking to her, Delilah turned to face her as Samson emerged from behind the group of pensioners with a tray of drinks in his hands.
‘I got a full round in,’ he said, placing them on the table.
‘Good lad,’ said Ida, reaching for another half pint.
‘The tracker I gave you,’ DC Green repeated. ‘What did you do with it?’
They were all watching her now, waiting for her response as Samson retook his seat, his thigh touching hers, his hand reaching for hers under the table . . . Delilah forced herself to relax, to not dwell on the presence of the woman at the bar. Or that kiss.
‘The tracker? Oh, I put it on Tolpuddle’s collar.’
Jess Green shook her head in dismay while Samson stared down at the dog. And the old collar he was wearing once more.
‘That’s why he had a new collar? You were using him as a second decoy?’ he asked.
‘Sight more flattering than Clive Knowles,’ cackled Ida.
Frank laughed, while Samson reached down to stroke the Weimaraner, his head having appeared above the table at the mention of his name.
‘You poor thing,’ he murmured, rubbing the grey ears. ‘Wearing a tracker all day and not even knowing it.’
‘Happen he wasn’t the only one.’ Ida reached across to Samson and tapped the neck of her creation, his hideous yellow jumper. ‘Tha was being monitored, too, thanks to that.’
Samson was feeling the neckline, eyes widening as his fingers hit the lump embedded within the wool. ‘You had me tracked?’
Everyone burst out laughing at his indignant expression, even Delilah.
‘Only way to keep thee safe, lad,’ said Ida, taking a sip of her beer. ‘Especially as tha insisted on straying off course and paid no heed to all the warning texts tha was getting!’
A confused look crossed Samson’s face. ‘What warning texts?’
‘The ones supposedly from that bloody bugger that tried to kill thee! Tha was told three times in the last twenty-four hours to run and tha didn’t take a blind bit of notice. I told Delilah it were a waste of time.’
Samson blinked, frowned, then turned to Delilah, incredulous. ‘You swapped the phones? The mobile DI Warren gave me?’
‘Guilty as charged.’ Delilah smiled. ‘I got an identical mobile and made the switch yesterday. So that text you got last night and then the other two you got today supposedly from him were actually from Ida on a burner phone, in the vain hope that you’d take notice and get out of town.’
‘And the mobile he actually gave to me?’
‘Was in the folder with Seth’s training plans, giving out a beacon from the moment we stepped out of the office this morning. You unknowingly passed it to Seth who made sure Clive got it, so he could play the Pied Piper and lead the rat out of town.’
Frank Thistlethwaite let out a whistle of appreciation while Jess Green gave a begrudging nod.
‘But how did you know DI Warren was using the mobile to track me?’ asked Samson.
‘I didn’t. When Jess confronted me at the barn she told me her suspicions about your old boss, but I didn’t know who to trust,’ said Delilah, with a contrite glance at the Met detective. ‘If Jess was telling the truth, I figured there would be a good chance that the mobile you’d been given wasn’t as innocent as it seemed. If she was lying and she was the threat, then swapping the phone wouldn’t hurt. So I took a gamble. A huge gamble. I put Jess’s tracker on Tolpuddle, hoping that if that was the lure for the hitman, they wouldn’t strike while their target was inside a building. And I used DI Warren’s phone with our decoy. Either way, you were nowhere near what was happening.’
‘And the quarry? You knew Annie was up there all the time?’ asked Frank.
Delilah shook her head. ‘No. Our Plan B was a bit vague. Annie was on high alert that she may be needed if everything went pear-shaped but we didn’t know where. So I sent Ida a text to say that’s where we were heading, hoping she’d sound the alarm. But I never got a reply.’
‘Happen as I was afraid of getting thee in trouble if tha phone pinged when it shouldn’t have,’ muttered Ida. ‘Like a certain detective from Leeds.’
Frank grinned at the rebuke. ‘Good point. But what I don’t understand is why, if you didn’t know you had backup, you went ahead with the plan anyway?’
‘Faith,’ said Delilah simply. ‘I had faith that the people I’d placed my trust in would be there when I needed them.’
‘Faith,’ murmured Samson. ‘That’s what Dad said before you put yourself in the line of fire. He told you to have faith.’
Delilah nodded. ‘He knew the plan. How it was supposed to work. And I guess he had the same confidence in this lot as I did.’
‘Wow,’ said Jess Green. ‘I’m not sure I’d put myself between someone else and a gun on that basis.’
‘Me neither,’ said Frank.
Samson was staring at Delilah, in a way that was making heat rise up her neck. ‘I would,’ he said. Then he grinned. ‘Especially if it meant I got a bullet hole in this horrific jumper and never had to wear it again!’
Another burst of laughter washed over the table, Ida joining in, and Samson using it as an excuse to lean in to Delilah.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I owe you my life.’
His hand squeezed hers, and once again she tried not to think about the mysterious woman and the fact that they might still have secrets between them.
‘Right,’ Jess Green said, as Ida turned back to Barry Dawson, the pair of them resuming their conversation, ‘time I was off.’
‘You making any progress?’ asked Frank.
Jess nodded. ‘Yeah. It’ll be a long road but we’ve already got a link between Warren and the area. We found his Volvo parked up behind the abandoned cafe opposite the quarry and, interestingly, according to the car’s GPS, it wasn’t his first visit. There’s a previous route saved on the device which leads straight there. Looks like he was scouting out a potential site for the hit.’
‘Christ,’ muttered Samson. ‘When was that?’
‘Sometime last month.’ Jess consulted her mobile. ‘The eighth of April.’
Delilah gasped, the date triggering a memory of the corrupt detective in the benign setting of a pub. ‘Oh my God,’ she said, turning to Samson. ‘That’s when we met up in Skipton. I even asked him to help with your court case, and all the time . . .’
‘All the time he was planning to have me killed.’ Samson looked stunned, clearly re-evaluating the past when it came to his boss. ‘I can’t believe I ever trusted him.’
‘You weren’t the only one,’ said Jess, grimly. ‘He made fools of us all. So we’re even more determined to unearth the full extent of his crimes. And with that, I really must go.’
‘Just one last question.’ Samson leaned forward, voice lowered, something in his tone telling Delilah this wasn’t a random enquiry. ‘Who was the big bloke with you when you arrived at the quarry?’
‘Terry? Oh, he’s just someone who works for a friend. Thought a bit of backup wouldn’t hurt.’
It was said so casually. Almost too casually, her fingers playing with her glass.
‘What about up at the barn the other night?’ Delilah asked. ‘Who was the person hiding in the dark?’
Still the detective was convincing, blonde hair spilling over her face as she shook her head. ‘There was no one else. Just me and Terry.’
‘Come on, Jess. I could smell them. Whoever it was, they were wearing a really distinctive cologne.’ Delilah turned to Frank, who was watching the three of them, thick eyebrows pulled together, investigative senses piqued. She gave a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry to say but I actually thought it was you at one point. Whatever that aftershave is you wear, it’s exactly the same.’
‘It’s a Jo Malone,’ said Frank, looking a bit uncomfortable at the sudden attention. ‘An ex-girlfriend used to wear it and was always badgering me to try some, insisting it was unisex. When she moved out, she left a bottle behind. Thought it’d be a shame to throw it away.’ He shrugged and then grinned at Samson. ‘It’s called Whisky and Cedarwood, in case you’re tempted, O’Brien.’
‘Cedarwood!’ muttered Samson, his hold on Delilah’s hand tensing.
She waited for him to expand on his comment but he was looking over towards the pub door, frowning.
‘So who is this mystery person, DC Green?’ Frank asked, all levity gone, every inch the senior police officer now. ‘I trust it’s all above board?’
Jess sighed. Then nodded, leaning in towards them, voice no more than a murmur. ‘Look, I can’t say much other than we had an informant. Someone high up from within the kind of criminal circles DI Warren was mixing in. A powerful figure in their own right.’ She shrugged. ‘They approached me with information about Samson’s case, suggesting that we were looking in the wrong place. But they weren’t prepared to go public with their claims. So we had to resort to proving it was DI Warren by other means.’
‘So you were put in place as Samson’s suspension support officer and the trap was set. But how did you know they were a credible source when they first came to you?’
A small smile danced across Jess Green’s lips. ‘Let’s just say they were very close to DI Warren and he betrayed them. Big time. My boss was happy to build an investigation on the strength of that.’
‘Any chance you can tell us who it was?’ asked Delilah.
‘No way. The informant stuck their neck out helping us, giving us vital leads all along, and I’m not prepared to break that trust. Especially as their life is in danger until we’ve rounded up everyone involved in this case.’
‘Well whoever it was, they must have been incredibly close to everything to be able to tell you the precise day the hitman was coming! Personally, I’m grateful they were willing to take that risk.’
‘And this Terry bloke?’ Samson asked, reverting back to his original question, a strange expression on his face. ‘He works for this person?’
Jess nodded. ‘Bodyguard. It was part of the deal. He accompanied the informant everywhere. Even to the barn that night.’ She turned to Delilah. ‘I haven’t really had a chance to apologise for abducting you like that, but we just couldn’t think of any other way for it to work. Thankfully, it all turned out okay in the end and between the information from our source and the recording DCI Thistlethwaite made up at the quarry, we should have enough to make sure Dave Warren and his associates spend a long time in prison.’
‘What about O’Brien’s court appearance next week?’ asked Frank. ‘I’m presuming that will no longer be taking place?’
‘We’re pretty confident it won’t go ahead. But,’ she added, turning to Samson, ‘we’d like you to come down and help us go through everything to make sure that’s the case. So if you could report first thing Monday morning?’
‘Why do I get the sense that’s more of an order than an invitation?’ asked Samson dryly.
Jess blushed. ‘It’s for your own good. The sooner we get this put to bed, the sooner you get your name cleared. And then, DC O’Brien, you’ll be sent a letter of exoneration along with an invitation to resume your position within the Metropolitan Police.’
Delilah felt the room turn cold, her heart contracting. She hadn’t thought it through. That Samson’s acquittal would mean he was free to return to London and pick his life back up. His real life, not this seven-month sabbatical in Bruncliffe. And from what she’d seen of him up in the quarry, the quiet violence which had radiated from him, Samson was more than ready for a resumption of his high-risk undercover career.
‘Right,’ he said, nodding, face impassive while Frank slapped him on the back. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’
‘See you Monday, then,’ said Jess Green, beginning to stand, when a bellow from behind the bar made her pause.
‘Listen up, lads and lasses!’ shouted Troy, the pub falling silent. ‘Free drinks on the house in honour of what we’ve all achieved today!’
A raucous cry greeted his announcement but the shout from Seth Thistlethwaite carried over it.
‘Happen it took a brush with an assassin to loosen your grip on your wallet, Troy!’
Laughter rocked the pub, the landlord looking indignant.
‘Not sure what you’re accusing me of there, Seth, but I can’t take the credit for this. Some lady called by and left cash behind the bar. Said we were to celebrate in style.’
‘Was it Mrs Pettiford?’ called out Harry Furness to more loud laughter.
Troy shook his head. ‘An offcumden. By the name of Eve.’
Already halfway off her stool, DC Green gave a surprised start, bumping against the table and sending her unfinished pint to the floor.
‘Oh sorry, so sorry,’ she said, flustered as she stooped to pick up the glass, the rest of the pub oblivious, abuzz at this intriguing development in what had already been an enthralling day.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Frank was on his feet, hand under her arm. ‘I’ll walk you out and get a cloth to mop it up with on the way back.’
Face crimson, Jess Green said her goodbyes and followed Frank to the door, Samson watching her with hawk-like intensity.
‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’ Delilah asked him quietly as the rest of the pub crowded around the bar.
‘Cedar,’ he said enigmatically, turning to her with a smile. ‘The person you sensed hiding in the barn smelled of cedar.’
‘What of it?’
‘Not ten minutes ago, a woman I’ve never seen before in my life walked into the pub when I was at the bar and handed Troy an envelope of cash.’
‘Eve? The woman Troy just mentioned?’ Delilah’s heart was thumping, wondering what he was about to say.
Samson nodded. ‘I thought I recognised her voice but my head is so messed up after today, I just couldn’t place it. That sultriness. A real seduction to her.’
Alarm bells were ringing for Delilah, memories of a call she’d intercepted on Samson’s mobile once, that low sensuous voice, the bewitching laugh. A mystery woman she hadn’t had the courage to ask him about, sensing this was someone she could never compete with.
‘Someone sounding like that called you,’ she confessed. ‘Back before Christmas. You’d left your phone in my car and I answered. She just hung up when she realised it wasn’t you. So was that her just now, the woman who kissed you?’ The words blurted out, laden with the hurt and confusion she was feeling.
‘You saw?’ Samson looked awkward. ‘Well, that was the so-called Eve. Like I said, I’ve never clapped eyes on her before today. But I definitely knew her voice because she called a few times.’
‘About what?’
‘To warn me. Telling me to leave town because “they” were going to make me pay.’
‘You mean she was part of it all?’
‘Totally. And what’s more,’ continued Samson, ‘when she leaned over to kiss me, I caught the unmistakable smell of cedar. Exactly the same cologne that Frank Thistlethwaite wears.’
Delilah stared at him, trying to piece it all together. ‘So what are you saying? That this mysterious Eve was the one in the barn the other night? Jess Green’s informant?’
‘I’m sure of it. Especially as Terry the Giant was standing outside the pub as she left. Our sultry Eve is the powerful crime figure who drip-fed Jess and her team all the information they needed to catch their man.’
‘Wow!’ Delilah shook her head. ‘I’d love to know what happened to sour her relationship with DI Warren so much – she double-crossed him comprehensively.’
‘I might be able to help with that.’ A wide grin split Samson’s face. ‘Before she kissed me, Eve told me never to betray a woman’s love.’
It took a second, Delilah’s wits dulled by the painkillers and the fatigue of the day. But then her jaw dropped. ‘She was his mistress, not just his contact within organised crime?’
‘I’d say so. Dave Warren got into bed with his criminal partner in more ways than one. And then paid the price when his attention wandered.’
Delilah let out a disbelieving laugh. ‘Another woman! He was brought down because he was unfaithful?’
‘It certainly looks that way,’ said Samson. ‘You know what they say. Hell hath no fury—’
‘Never a truer phrase!’ Will Metcalfe had wandered over, Frank Thistlethwaite with him, cloth in hand. ‘Our Delilah is a prime example.’
‘Maybe I dodged a bullet, then,’ said Frank with a wink at Delilah as he bent down to the carpet. ‘Best get this beer cleaned up . . . oh!’ He glanced back up over the edge of the table, grinning. ‘Someone beat me to it. This dog’s better than a mop! Not a speck of beer left.’
Delilah and Samson both let out a groan as Tolpuddle emerged from under the table, expression innocent but traces of his surreptitious tipple still coating his mouth.
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Frank. ‘Does it not agree with him?’
‘Oh, it agrees with him all right,’ said Will Metcalfe, starting to laugh. ‘It’s the folk around him that’ll have the problem.’