Free I Remember You by Martin Edwards Page B

thing.
    â€˜That’s all I need! Having to explain to PC Plod why I was on my back beneath a tattooist with the gift of the gab and not much else when I should have been at work! Do you realise I told Nick Folley I had a migraine? I feel a thousand times worse now than if I’d been forced to spend the day in a darkened room.’
    Outside a siren howled.
    â€˜I can’t believe this is happening,’ she said bitterly. ‘And all because I was weak and let myself be blarneyed into a quick leg-over! God, I hate myself sometimes. But not half as much as I hate you, Finbar.’
    â€˜Sophie darling, be reasonable.’
    â€˜ Reasonable ? Find someone else to be reasonable with. You have too many enemies, Finbar, too many people want you dead. Well, I’m not going to share your coffin.’
    â€˜Sophie, love, you need to calm down. Do that and everything will be fine. I’ll see you...’
    â€˜Not if I see you first! And don’t “love” me! I’m not another Melissa, you know, neurotic and clinging. Even she must see sense after this. You’re dangerous to know.’
    She teetered for a second, as if her legs were about to give way, then turned and slammed the door behind her.
    â€˜Hysterical,’ said Finbar. ‘You can understand it. She doesn’t mean what she says.’ He sighed. ‘Jases, Harry, what a mess.’
    For once, Harry thought, his client was erring on the side of understatement. He walked over to the window to view Finbar’s car which had been parked in an unmade entry on the other side of Braddock Street. A police cordon now sealed off the scene of the crime, but did not disguise the extent of the devastation. Smoke thickened the air; even up here, there was no ignoring its pungent whiff. Firefighters had been pumping water on to what was left of the car body and a river was beginning to stretch down the street, where fragments recognisably belonging to the old red Granada had been scattered over a wide radius. Uniformed policemen had blocked off traffic at both ends of the street and were now waving away any vehicles or passers-by who stopped to linger. The hum of their walkie-talkies filled the air. Harry guessed they must be nervous, wondering if a second bomb had been planted, waiting for the Special Branch to arrive, not wanting to take any chances in the meantime. He himself had only been able to enter the Blue Moon by following Finbar’s telephone directions to an unmarked basement door in an extension at the rear of the building.
    Amongst the debris, Harry glimpsed something which resembled part of a steering wheel. The sight of it sickened him. No one sitting in that car when the bomb went off could have had a hope of survival - and Finbar had said he’d promised to give Sophie a lift back to work once they were done in the hotel.
    â€˜It may take more than a day or two for her to calm down. She’s lucky to be alive, and so are you.’
    The Irishman winced. ‘Don’t think I don’t realise. Who would have imagined it? We were only after a little harmless fun.’
    He had already explained how, working as swiftly as ever, he’d called Sophie that morning after Pop In came to an end and invited her to lunch at the Ensenada. During the course of wining and dining her in lavish manner he had persuaded her to accompany him here. The Blue Moon was owned by an old friend of his called Rajeshwar Sharma, to whom Finbar always referred as Reg. Reg owned a chain of hotels in Merseyside, all of which catered for guests seeking a room and a bed rather than the last word in luxury. This place was one of Finbar’s favourite haunts.
    â€˜It’s like a second home to me, Harry,’ he said now, with a touch of mischief. ‘I have so many happy memories of my stays here.’
    â€˜Most of which last around the sixty minute mark, I suppose?’
    â€˜A couple of hours as a rule, mate.