Tons of Trouble (Izzy Izzard Private Investigator, #4) by MacLeod Roo I

Author:MacLeod, Roo I
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roo I MacLeod
Published: 2023-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

It was late and busy. Vapour exited with our breaths, but we were hurrying and not bothered about the chill night. Tourists stood with cameras held aloft and proud. Thieves bumbled and nudged and lifted stuff from pockets and bags. The vagrants dawdled and hunted, looking for a site to pitch for the night. Regulars, like the locals, dodged and talked, hoping for a party, an end to their night to make it perfect.

Dolorez and I, hand in hand, were heading for the mainland station that would take us out west. It was a walk, but as the streets were busy, and the traffic gridlocked, it was the safest route. Every block or so, I’d hustle the girl inside a shop and watch for pursuit.

They weren’t coming for us. I pushed her toward the train station, keen to get off the street and be heading for home.

I had no idea what occurred in the flat with Mick and Slim, but whoever survived that encounter must know we were headed for Ostere. I had to assume they’d come for us. But in Ostere, I felt safe. At least on home turf, I had backup and home-ground advantage. And we needed the client’s husband. He had the key.

Dolorez wanted to talk. She was teary-eyed and emotional and scared that her Mountain Mick was dead. She loved him, she said. But he was destructive. Possessive. He hated seeing her working or socialising. He wanted her locked away in an exhibit only he could view.

“Back in the day,” she said. And she smiled. It cracked up her features, exposing wrinkles no makeup could hide at that time of night. But it was a nice smile. It encouraged me to smile, and my last smile had been an age ago.

“He wooed me.” She laughed at the statement. “Seriously, he brought me flowers. Walked me home. He controlled the crowd, who could be quite lewd, at my performances and was my greatest fan. He loved my voice.”

The train clickety-clacked. Punters sat with phones in hand, absorbed by their images and messages of import. Outside, the lights shone on dark brick and the occasional signage.

“I didn’t know he was a robber. How was I to know?”

“What did you think he was? The man is a beast. He was hardly a nurse or a kindergarten teacher, right?”

“No, but I saw him as a big old friendly giant. There was no fee fi fo fum to him. When he escorted me from CoCos, I felt safe.”

“So, what changed?”

“The robbery.”

“That’s when you knew he was a robber. A bad man.”

“He became secretive and lied about his movements and stuff. The night of the robbery, he called me and asked me to give him an alibi. I couldn’t. It was impossible. I wasn’t where he said I needed to be.”

“Where were you?”

“With a punter. Making a quick buck. Getting promises and hearing praise.”

She dropped her head, her shame evident. “I couldn’t tell him that, but I couldn’t tell the cops I was at home with Mick.

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