Cracks like whiplash by Karen Guyler

Author:Karen Guyler [Guyler, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unexpected Books
Published: 2023-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

33

Nikki searched for Quick Cabs. The numbers on the one storey units told her it should be right there, sandwiched between the glass frontage of Wingdings, a takeaway chicken place, and Spice Masters, whose empty white shelving and counter top gave nothing away.

Right address, wrong name. The pink sign above the door where Quick Cabs should have been had Carrie Cabs calligraphied across it in sweeping strokes and curves, with the dot on the ‘i’ a small red heart. It looked like a beauty salon.

She knocked a police officer’s knock, loud and insistent. An Indian woman with long hair pulled back into a severe high ponytail, wearing a wireless headset, yanked it open. “Where’s the fire?”

Nikki held up her warrant card and introduced herself. “Are you the owner?”

“Do I look like the owner?” With a hand tipped by iridescent blue nails, the woman gestured at her shiny white trainers and white, what was it even called? Too fitted, too glitzy to be a track suit, leisure wear maybe? She wore enough gold that if she took off her necklaces, she’d probably stand an inch taller.

“Is the owner here?” Nikki asked.

“Would I be here if he was? He told me he’d be here an hour ago.”

“How long have you been working here?”

The woman laughed, wiped the corners of her eyes. “No, babes, I don’t work here, shouldn’t even be here. It’s my husband’s business so what am I even doing here, you ask. It’s a good question, been asking myself the same thing for an hour.”

“I’m after Quick Cabs but. . .” Nikki gestured at the sign on the outside.

“Yeah, that’s us too, but the Carrie Cabs sign’s loads better, innit?”

“I need to look at Quick Cabs’ records for journeys made in June two years ago.”

“Two years? You having a laugh?”

“Believe me, nothing about this is remotely funny.”

“You’d better come in.”

Nikki followed her into a bare bones office containing a large desk and, beside a sink in the middle of the back wall, a kitchen unit on which was a kettle and a jar of coffee, two closed doors on either side. The woman did something on the computer and moved the mic of her headset in front of her mouth. “Carrie Cabs… Where you going? Yeah, what time?… What’s your mobile number?… You’ll get a text confirmation.”

She tapped on the computer, hit return, and looked up as the door opened.

A short lean man wearing almost as much jewellery as her burst into the office. “Sorry, sweet,”

“Sorry?” She arched a perfectly drawn eyebrow. “I’ve missed my massage.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you will,” jerked her head at Nikki. “Police, for you. I’m off.”

She kissed him as if Nikki wasn’t in the room and slammed out.

Her husband grinned as if he’d won the lottery. “My wife.”

“I got that. I’m interested in Quick Cabs, what happened to them?”

“Nothing, still here but we diversified. With all the. . .” he searched for the word, “issues around women’s safety my wife wanted to do something about it, so Carrie Cabs was born.

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