Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

he? Or could she be the result of any one of the number of liaisons that Agnes is reputed to have had outside the marriage?’ said Charley.

‘I had at least hoped to find Lucinda and Seth’s child’s birth mentioned somewhere, whether in the register, or in the records, but it’s as if the child never existed.’

‘Maybe it never did,’ said Ricky-Lee. ‘Perhaps Lucinda miscarried; then again, the young woman could have had a stillbirth.’

‘Hmm, but both Lily and Josie told us the same story independently – that Lucinda had a child.’ Charley turned to Annie. ‘What did Lily have to say about the treasure trove of pictures and papers that Josie referred to?’

‘She didn’t. She brushed it off as Josie being fanciful.’

‘Do you think Lily told you everything she knows?’ said Charley.

‘Did she ’eck,’ said Wilkie chasing the crumbs of his sandwich around its plastic container before popping them into his mouth.

Annie looked quizzically at Wilkie. ‘Can I just ask, is that your dinner or your tea?’

‘Depends which part of the country you come from,’ he said. Wilkie’s smile was mischievous.

Charley pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps now’s the time to bring Lily Pritchard out of the comfort of her home and into the station to speak to her.’

Wilkie leaned forward with a smirk on his face, and menace in his eyes. ‘Then, because she’s a Bible basher, we’ll have one on the table in the interview room. If we think she’s telling porkies we can get her to swear on it.’

Charley pulled a face. ‘That is not helpful or professional. If you’ve nothing productive to say, keep it shut!’

Wilkie mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of, it was no different from a lie detector, no biggie.

Mike knew Charley well enough to know that when she turned to him, her expression would be one of frustration. ‘For God’s sake take the comedian with you, will you and go see Jonathan Raglan again. I want to know more about Waseem Chaudry’s nephew’s visit to the estate agents.’

Mike pushed his chair backwards and looked as if he was preparing to stand. ‘More to the point, find out why Raglan didn’t think to tell us about it, and the fact that the nephew, Faisal Hussain, had been enquiring about the whereabouts of the Dixons.’

Charley dismissed the group, but she raised her hand at Ricky-Lee. ‘I’d like a word with you,’ she said. ‘My office, now!’

Chapter 25

Ricky-Lee saw DI Charley Mann sit down, as if in slow motion, on the swivel chair behind her impeccably tidy desk. She had a deep scowl etched on her face and, when she sat, her posture was stiff and unyielding. The detective closed the door slowly and quietly behind him, a gnawing beginning in the pit of his stomach.

‘Why are you avoiding Ben and Terry?’ Charley found herself clenching her teeth as she spoke.

Tension filled the air, and she waited for the officer to respond. Ricky-Lee moved to the edge of a chair, leaned forward and cleared his throat. He looked down at his interlocked fingers which he was wringing, in the space between his legs. After a few silent moments, he took a breath, and looked up to see black eyes, as sharp as granite, looking back at him. Charley’s expression shocked him.

‘DC Lewis, I know you’re an intelligent man, so don’t piss me about. What the hell is going on? I’m dealing with a double-murder enquiry and your behaviour is becoming a distraction that I can well do without. I thought we had an understanding after our talk in the graveyard, but it appears not.’ She paused briefly. ‘You’ve got one chance to tell me what’s going on. Don’t leave anything out, and don’t lie to me,’ she said. Charley’s voice had a sharp edge to it that Ricky-Lee had never heard her use before, and it sent goosebumps down his spine.

Ricky-Lee’s voice sounded shaky to his own ears. ‘Boss, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to avoid anybody or anything that has to do with gambling, not just them,’ he said, quietly. ‘The truth is, I can’t be around gamblers. Not if I want to kick this addiction. That’s why I walked out, when Mike saw me, rather than join you, and Ben and Terry.’

Charley put her elbows on the desk and clasped her hands together. ‘Go on then, tell me about it. I’m listening,’ she said.

Ricky-Lee took a long deep breath. ‘It all started six years ago. I didn’t think gambling would be a problem, not for me. I was working undercover; a big drugs case. The job required infiltration into the drugs gang. The fun part for me was the race meetings, a bit of light relief from the violent world I found myself involved in. At least, I thought it was fun at the time. We were given free hotel rooms, free meals, as much alcohol as we could drink, and the cartel provided the drugs and the girls. I was more than happy to people-watch, with the odd visit to the betting stand to authenticate the reason for being at a race meeting. I had to be one of them. I’m not much of a drinker and I was engaged to be married. Money was no object; we had wads of money to play with. It was like Monopoly money, it had no value to me whatsoever.’ He gave a half-hearted laugh. ‘They needed to get rid of their dirty money somehow, and believe me, it’s true, money attracts money.’ Ricky-Lee’s eyes filled with tears, but swallowing hard somehow seemed to stem their flow. ‘How stupid was I to think that I could do the same, after the job had finished, with no tip-offs from the professionals: the trainers, the stable hands, the jockeys who were all happy to help and take the backhanders. But I was hooked.’

‘Why on earth has this addiction reared its ugly head now?’

Ricky-Lee shook his bowed head. ‘Once a gambler, always a gambler, I suspect.