Saving Anna (Jake Talbot Investigates Book 2) by Toni Allen

Author:Toni Allen [Allen, Toni]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-30T23:00:00+00:00

33

It was way gone eight by the time they left, Mrs Goddard still tearful.

‘Let’s grab a bite to eat. It’ll make you feel better,’ Talbot suggested, and treated her to a pizza in Dorchester.

Turning his phone on was truly disappointing. No message from Frankie. Damn, where was he? A text was waiting from Weissman, asking where he should send his courier with the phones, and at what time. No idea.

He texted back, ‘West Bay 22:30 by the Old Station Tea Room. I might be delayed. Get him to wait.’

On the drive back, he said, ‘Could you drop me down at West Bay? Frankie isn’t answering my calls and I suspect he’s got caught up with that dealer we know, the one who likes a few bevvies.’

‘You think he’s drunk in a pub, don’t you?’ She sighed. ‘Youngsters these days. They just don’t have a sense of responsibility. No care that others might be fretting over them.’

‘I’ll give him a good dressing down. When I find him.’

Assuming it was the George Talbot was after, Mrs Goddard stopped as close to the door as possible. They parted with a hug, Talbot smiling and waving, and relieved to be out in the fresh air, away from sick and depressed people. He waited until she’d driven some distance before lighting up. A quick scan of the outside seating area showed no sign of Frankie, or Ben, or their friendly sot, Mandy. Where the fuck was he?

Several times he tried Frankie’s number while walking up to the station tea room. Come on, Frankie, pick up. Speak to me. Tell me to fuck off—anything. Anxiety was making his insides raw, the constant not-knowing nagging away and bringing on sudden surges of adrenaline that made him edgy. There was a little over an hour left until midnight, then he’d be calling in the troops.

By the glow of a streetlamp he saw the courier beside his motorcycle, hovering, not even bothering to move around and stretch his legs, although he had removed his lid, and was taking a bit of a breather. For the sake of efficiency Talbot switched his phone onto vibrate, so that he could get the business over and done without fear of interruption. Huh, it was the same rider who’d been sent to pick up the prescription meds from him at the Ilchester Arms; the one he’d refused to buy a coffee. The one who didn’t appear to be a day over twenty-five.

It wasn’t busy, but a few people were milling about, collecting their cars, ambling home from the pub, stopping on street corners to chatter.

‘Nice evening for a ride,’ Talbot said, making out he was merely passing and engaging a random stranger in conversation. ‘What’s the bike?’

Same clapped out piece of shit as before, by the looks of it.

‘Ducati 1098 Biposto. Throaty little number. Handles the bends around the country lanes a treat.’ Bike Boy patted the petrol tank, as if it were a horse, as bikers are inclined to do when standing by their metal steeds.

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