Clean Kill by Nick Everard

Author:Nick Everard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing
Published: 2022-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Frank recognised David’s number as he answered his phone.

‘Dad’s been called in for questioning.’

‘What? Why didn’t he tell me?’ asked Frank, taken aback.

He’d drummed into Carl for years that any contact from the police was to be notified to him, without fail. Hitherto, his client had always done that scrupulously. It was a rule which had served them both well.

‘Disrespect, he says. Apparently, you swore at him.’

‘I did, and he bloody well deserved it,’ replied Frank. ‘Silly bugger. He hasn’t gone alone, has he?’

‘No – he’s taking Jim Steiner, who got a lot of pleasure out of calling to tell me this morning. The meeting’s in a couple of days’ time.’

Frank swore. Jim Steiner had done some legal work for him in the early days, and he was definitely a competent lawyer, but he was also manifestly ambitious. He’d clearly had his eye on Frank’s position as what the Mafia would have called “consigliere” to Carl. Too clearly.

So, Frank had got rid of him a couple of years ago – just like that. When Carl learnt of it, he had jested clumsily about anti-semitism, but Frank had responded seriously.

‘The reason I don’t like Jim is not because he is Jewish but because he is a nasty, untrustworthy little worm,’ he’d said.

Carl had accepted the reproach at the time without comment. He’d just nodded.

But clearly, he hadn’t forgotten the man or his competence. Maybe he was just teaching Frank a lesson. Or perhaps this was a permanent shift to Steiner. Frank cursed.

‘This is getting beyond a joke,’ he said. ‘I’ll call him.’

‘Good luck with that,’ replied David. Then he revealed Carl’s visit to the flat.

‘What does your mum say about that?’ asked Frank.

David was caught momentarily off balance; he hadn’t revealed that Cynthia was staying with him. But the question didn’t infer that Frank was actually aware of that, he decided.

‘Didn’t think she knew such language,’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘Hopping mad. She’s had it with him.’

There was a pause on the line before Frank responded.

‘I reckon that makes three of us then.’

***

That evening, Cynthia cooked David’s favourite meal – it was in the oven when he got back from the office. She knew he could smell it from the look on his face, which he’d had since childhood when steak and kidney pie was in the offing, though he tried hard to conceal it.

‘You called him, yeah?’ he asked his mother anxiously, as she emerged from the kitchen and offered him a glass of red. She already had one herself.

‘No,’ Cynthia said forcefully. ‘Most certainly I did not.’

‘Mum…’ began David in the small boy, whiny voice he’d never quite got out of when pleading with her.

‘I texted to tell him I’d got the message,’ said Cynthia. ‘So, you’re in the clear.’

She took a sip of her wine, awaiting his reply.

‘And that’s all?’ said David.

‘That’s all,’ replied Cynthia.

David gestured helplessly. ‘OK.’

Once her son was busily guzzling down the meal, Cynthia got to the point. She’d been thinking about it all day.

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