Soho Ghosts (The Soho Series Book 2) by Greg Keen

Author:Greg Keen [Keen, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542048361
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-04-11T22:00:00+00:00

Olivia’s invitation had lightened my mood. For the first time in months – if not years – the streets of Soho didn’t feel like a rat run. The workmen tearing up the pavement on Old Compton Street seemed a cheery bunch of artisans and I didn’t send a French tourist in entirely the wrong direction for Trafalgar Square.

Sebastian could do with a slap or three but that was hardly his sister’s fault. You can choose your friends but not your family and all that. I suspected Seb hadn’t raided the till to fund a trip to Holland & Barrett, but it wasn’t any of my business. As long as he didn’t show up at Dean Street that evening, it was good enough for me.

Even the Vesuvius mid-afternoon couldn’t dampen my spirits. A couple of the regulars stared at the racing on the TV with expressions that suggested fortune wasn’t smiling upon them. Whispering Nick was peering at a copy of the Sun as though it were the Rosetta Stone. The smoking ban was being accorded the usual level of respect, and a pall of blue haze hung over the place.

Gary was waiting at one of the tables. ‘How are things?’ I asked.

‘I’ve had better mornings,’ he replied. ‘You?’

I told him about my meetings with Judy Richards and Sally Thomas.

‘Who were the photographs of?’ Gary asked. I reached into my pocket and laid them on the table. ‘No way! Will Creighton-Smith blackmailed George Dent?’

‘Unless he doesn’t know the camera’s there either.’

Gary picked up one of the images. ‘Nah, he knows all right,’ he said. ‘You can tell Dent hasn’t got a clue, though. Shouldn’t you go to the police, Kenny?’

‘Maybe,’ I said, and changed the subject. ‘The Burbage was a total wipeout?’

Gary sank back in his chair and sighed. ‘No one recognised the picture. Billy must have met McDonald in a different hotel.’

‘Or he didn’t meet him at all,’ I said. ‘I spoke to him earlier and he reckons he can’t remember any of the pubs they visited either.’

‘Why would he lie?’

A good question, for which I had no answer. Meg Dylan would have given her son pretty much anything he asked for. And while six hundred thousand was a fortune for anyone on the right side of the law, it would hardly break the Dylan bank.

‘There’s some kind of scam going on,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know what it is and I don’t know how to prove it.’

‘Has Odeerie found anything?’

I shook my head. ‘He would have been in touch.’

Joie de vivre began leaking out of me like gas from a ruptured pipe. Supper with Olivia Porteus was all well and good, but if I didn’t find Martin McDonald I’d be food for worms by next weekend. Gary waved his hand above our table in a vain attempt to dispel the cigarette smoke. ‘What d’you want me to do next?’

‘How about keeping an eye on Billy’s place in case McDonald shows up?’

‘What are you gonna do?’ he asked.

‘See a man about a camera,’ I said.

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