Free Past Darkness by Sam Millar Page B

bookie’s shop across the street.
    ‘That’s okay. I can wait here till you return.’
    ‘I bet you a tenner you can’t.’ Karl smiled.
    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
    Just then, a female traffic warden appeared.
    ‘Which of you two gentlemen owns this vehicle?’ she said, pointing at Chambers’ car.
    ‘It’s mine,’ Chambers said.
    ‘Can’t you see the double-yellow line?’
    ‘You don’t understand. I’m a–’
    ‘No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. You can’t park here. That’s not too complicated to understand, is it?’
    Chambers’ hand went to his inside pocket, and produced a small brown wallet, containing his police ID. He flourished it to the woman. ‘I’m a policeman.’
    ‘Then you should know better than to break the law. Move the car immediately; otherwise I’ll have it towed.’
    Karl let out a large, loud laugh. ‘Belfast doesn’t know the meaning of the word “protocol” when it comes to making money.’
    A chastised and chastened Chambers got back inside and started the car.
    ‘That’s a tenner you owe me, Chambers,’ Karl said, making his way quickly to the bookie’s.

    Ten minutes later, Karl reappeared, tearing up a docket.
    ‘No luck?’ Chambers said, standing at the doorway.
    ‘The nag fell at the first hurdle. A hundred quid gone like coal in Hell. And talking of Hell, what sort of little harassment operation has my devious devil of an ex-brother-in-law sent you on?’
    ‘Inspector Wilson has nothing to do with this. He’s over in Edinburgh at the moment, on assignment.’
    ‘Good. Hopefully the bastard stays there. Where’s that maniacal thug of a side-kick of yours – ‘The Priest’, the one who gets so much pleasure from confession?’
    ‘Detective McCormack?’
    ‘The very one.’
    ‘He’s back in the station. This is an off-the-record meeting.’
    ‘The last time I saw you two together, you were beating the crap out of him with that kung-fu shit of yours, after he assaulted me.’
    ‘Yes, well…that was in the heat of the moment. I shouldn’t have done it.’
    ‘I was grateful you did. You saved my neck, while giving his a good chopping. So, what is it you want?’
    ‘Can we go back to your office and talk?’
    ‘So you can eye Naomi? I don’t think so.’
    Chambers’ face flushed slightly. ‘This is a friendly visit, Kane. We got a complaint from the Europa. A guest by the name of Graham Butler received a vicious beating, a few nightsago. Apparently, Butler didn’t want it disclosed, because of his reputation as a hard man, but when the regular manager returned from some days off, he immediately reported it to us, as required by hotel policy.’
    ‘Long story short?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Get to the point. I’ve a hundred quid to get back from Hill Billy.’
    ‘I checked the hotel’s CCTV. You were seen clearly on it; you and Miss Sharon McKeever – or Lipstick, as she refers to herself.’
    ‘Is there a crime in that?’
    ‘I suspect Miss McKeever was there for a sexual encounter, as she has–’
    ‘She’s an adult. She can do whatever she damn well–’
    ‘Something bad happened in Butler’s room, and you were called in to help her. I know the history between you and Miss McKeever.’
    ‘History? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ Karl bristled.
    ‘She saved you from being killed by Peter Bartlett, the assassin. She shot him. That’s more than enough for you to be indebted to her.’
    Karl looked at his watch. ‘Unless you’re going to arrest me for assault and battery, I’m going to go back inside and–’
    ‘Graham Butler is a very dangerous individual. He’s awell-known criminal from London’s East End. In one of his prettier moments, he killed a rival drug dealer, cutting him up and disposing of the body parts all over London. At the moment, he’s suspected of arranging meetings with drug dealers over here, hoping to extend his franchise.’
    ‘A nice chap, then? Look, I appreciate