Pop Goes the Weasel | страница 119

As he got closer, he slowed. It was a woman. And she was placing a box by the pavilion entrance. What was in the box – a trophy? A prize?

He called out as he ran over. The woman spun round, stopping Alfie in his tracks. She wasn’t smiling and had a nasty face. To his surprise, she turned and walked off without saying a word.

Alfie watched her go, confused. Then he turned his attention to the box. There was a word he couldn’t understand written on it. He tried to spell it out. F. I. L. T. H. But it made no sense to him. Why was it written in red ink?

He looked around, wondering what to do. There was no one to tell him he couldn’t open it.

Double-checking the coast was clear, Alfie stepped forward and opened the box.

It was hours after the event but Tony’s mind was still reeling. His heart was beating nineteen to the dozen, fired by a mixture of fear, adrenalin and anxiety.

He tried to gather his thoughts but they spun round and round, eluding him. He hadn’t felt like this in ages, yet a little voice was shouting inside him, abusing him, shaming him. It was all he deserved, yet oddly he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. Which Tony was thinking these thoughts? He didn’t recognize him.

He had always been a by-the-book copper. Some said he was stolid. Others more charitably said he was professional, exemplary. Helen certainly respected him. The thought suddenly made his head hurt. What would she think if she could see him now? It wasn’t uncommon, but that didn’t make it any better.

Melissa stirred next to him, turning over in her sleep. He took in her naked body. It was marked with tattoos and ancient scarring in places, but was still muscular and alluring. His eyes flicked to the bedroom curtains again, checking for the umpteenth time that they were pulled together. On the street outside, a colleague of his was sitting in an unmarked car. Would he have noticed anything? The light going on and off in the bedroom? Surely he would have assumed it was Melissa going to bed finally. But what if he’d done a perimeter check of the house and noticed that Tony wasn’t downstairs?

When it happened he hadn’t thought of the risk at all. He had held her close, enjoying the warmth of her body against his, then she’d looked up at him and drawn him towards her. They had kissed. Then kissed some more. Despite the fact that she was both a prostitute and their key witness, Tony had not hesitated, his desire driving him on. They were in bed minutes later – Tony was stunned to think of his utter recklessness – he had never once paused to draw breath.