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Cigar Bar, No. 5 Cavendish Square
Wilkinson rubbed his thumb around the end of the cigar in his hand, his eyes fixed on the glowing ember at the other end. He really wasn’t sure why he’d come here ... True, it was the night he and his “set” usually gathered here, but tonight... Wilkinson tipped the ash into the ashtray nearby and reached for his scotch. Even the scotch was less-than-enjoyable.
Of course, it didn’t help that Grayson couldn’t seem to shut it...
“There really has to be something we can do.” Grayson took a sip of his scotch before continuing. “That Murder Squad unit is... if they can pull that kind of a political move, and obtain files, unsealing documents... None of us will be safe.” He paused, then turned on Wilkinson, his steely blue eyes looking even harder. “And you certainly didn’t help things much! Coming into the Commissioner’s office and pulling that ‘release all the paper’ bullshit!”
Wilkinson sighed. “It was not bullshit. And I am not the Chief Crown Prosecutor, Reynolds is... I follow orders and get things done, and maybe someday I’ll have a run at it, but not now.”
“Grayson, Jer is right.” Ethan Warwick chimed in. Wilkinson tried to maintain his impassive face, while inside he was shocked. The weasel-like Warwick usually sided with Grayson. Not surprising, considering he was the go-to solicitor for inquests and investigations into fellow police officers. In this instance, though, even Warwick knew Grayson was out of order. “You simply can’t...” Warwick trailed off as Grayson’s gaze shifted to him.
“Can’t what?” Grayson snapped.
“Can’t be so bloody fookin’ obvious!” Antonio Lusk ran a hand through his black hair. The Scottish-born real estate mogul was usually quiet and smoldering, but now his temper had ignited. “You need to understand... EVERYTHING depends on us not being found out. You draw too much attention to us, and pretty soon we are the ones whose files are being opened, whose records are being checked.” He tapped at his temple. “You need to wise up, Grayson.”
Grayson pressed his lips together to keep from responding, although Wilkinson could see it was taking all his strength to refrain from doing so. But Lusk was a big guy, had done some boxing at university, and even after, and Grayson would be a fool to challenge him. Grayson knew it, too. He shifted gears...
“Everything started to go wrong when that American showed up.” Grayson glanced briefly at the attractive young man sitting near Lusk. “I’m sorry, Parris, I know you have a thing for her, but that woman is nothing but trouble.”
The young man, Parris Devereux, looked up through long lashes. He was almost too pretty for a man, though the masculine scruff on his chin helped. His lips moved in a slight smile, but he said nothing, focusing his gaze, like Wilkinson, on the tip of his own cigar.
“Kate Gardener is the least of our worries,” Lusk said quietly, his temper once more restrained. He took a sip of his scotch and noted the attentive gazes of the four men with him. “I was going to wait until Oliver got here,” referring to Parris’ older brother, a member of Parliament and long-time member of the group. “But I think we need to talk about it now. Things may be about to get dicey. Cleaning women went into the loft this past weekend.”
The men all exchanged looks, with Wilkinson’s the most concerned. “Have you received any notice?”
Lusk shook his head slowly. “No, but if it’s being cleaned, it can mean only one thing.” He took another sip of his scotch, and swallowed.
Even Grayson was clever enough to look dismayed at that. Wilkinson took a drink of his scotch, gulping the large amount noisily. Warwick, ever slow on the uptake, frowned thoughtfully.
“So, you’re saying...?”
Lusk sighed. “Yes, gentlemen... Mary Stoner’s back in town.”
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The End.
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Read on for a sneak peek at the next installment of the Kate Gardener Mysteries series