Angel Hunt by Mike Ripley

Author:Mike Ripley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: london, 1980, 80s, thatcherism, jazz, music, fiction, series, revenge, drama, romance, lust, mike ripley, angel, comic crime, novel, crime writers, comedy, fresh blood, lovejoy, critic, birmingham post, essex book festival, death, murder, animal rights
ISBN: 9781845838201
Publisher: Telos Publishing
Published: 2011-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

But on the way home, the prospect of a day or so out of sight seemed a prudent thing to consider.

I had no intention of trying to explain the whereabouts of Sunil’s goods to Sunil or his henchmen until I’d made contact with Zaria, and if she didn’t come across soon, there was a good chance she’d find me hanging from a Christmas tree by the neck. Sunil had sent three of them tonight, and if he kept that rate up they’d need a double-decker bus to follow me by Christmas Eve.

Checking all the time that there was no-one on my tail, I reviewed the situation to the sound of a bootleg tape of Sade singing jazz in cabaret.

On the minus side, they knew what I looked like, where I lived and what I drove.

On the plus side, I didn’t think they’d jump me at Stuart Street as long as Doogie was there.

That was it as far as the upside. And Doogie had a job to go to.

But then I hadn’t. I could just take off. Disappear until they got bored or Zaria finally showed up.

Back at Stuart Street, I found Fenella and Lisabeth and Miranda and Doogie busy decorating the staircase with brightly coloured tinsel streamers, which had clumps of real holly tied into them every 18 inches or so. The holly, being the sort of holly that is sold on street corners in London at this time of year, must have cost a fortune, and it didn’t have berries on. (They fetched a premium price in the West End stores.) Still, as a festive substitute for barbed wire, it was pretty effective. Even the mysterious Mr Goodson had a cut-out paper sign saying MERRY XMAS across his door. I suspected that Fenella had bullied him into it.

‘There you are, Angel,’ boomed Lisabeth from five steps up. She was doing what she was best at: supervising.

‘You haven’t forgotten you’re responsible for getting the tree, have you?’

‘Of course not,’ I smiled as I lied. ‘Hello, Binky.’

I said that only to annoy her, as Fenella was leaning over the staircase banister to fix some tinsel with double-sided tape, and one more inch and she needn’t have bothered wearing a skirt at all.

Lisabeth followed my eye-line and reached to pull down Binky’s creeping hemline. Fenella smiled between blushes.

‘We were thinking of having the party on New Year’s Eve,’ said Miranda, spraying fake snow from an ozone-friendly aerosol onto a twig of holly.

‘Oh good,’ I said, squeezing up the stairs behind Lisabeth.

What party?

‘Well, you see, Doogie’s got to work on Christmas Day – at the hotel.’

‘Sure. Er … fine. Whatever. It’s okay by me.’

‘Oh good. We were worried in case you couldn’t get the band together.’

Band? What had I promised the night before?

‘I’ll have to see, of course, but I should think the lads will come if we get plenty beer in.’

‘Aye, that’s a pre-requisite,’ said Doogie, who was doing something unspeakable to a metal coat-hanger. It looked as if he was weight-training,

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