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“You are—aren’t you?”
“I’ve already told you who I am, and my colleagues at the station will be delighted to confirm it. Then you can have a long session in a cell telling yourself it’s true,” he informed her grimly.
True? Of course it was true! It was all so obvious now that this authoritative man could never be the miserable worm she was after. Her instincts had told her that from the first, but she hadn’t listened to them. Now she’d failed in her job and gotten herself arrested into the bargain. Oh, what a mess!
“Will you kindly release me so that I can get dressed?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Modesty now, is it? I don’t recall that modesty was much in evidence when you were inviting me to have an interesting time.” But he loosened his grip and got on with his own dressing, taking care to keep between her and the door.
Debbie grabbed frantically at her clothes. The bra was beyond repair so she stuffed it into her purse and fastened the leather jacket up to the neck. Now the shortness of the skirt horrified her and she tried to pull it down, but it was no use. The skirt had been designed for provocation, and provocative it remained. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Miss James’?” she asked.
He groaned. “Surely we’re past that stage? Why go on pretending?”
“I’m not pretending. I don’t know anyone called Elizabeth James. My name is Debra Harker, ex-Detective Sergeant Harker. I left the force to become a private investigator. I’m on a case. Now, who are you?”
“All right. We’ll play the game to the finish. I’m Detective Inspector Jake Garfield, and you are Elizabeth James. Pretending to be a policewoman was a neat idea but—”
“There are a dozen people on the force who can tell you who I am,” she interrupted in exasperation. “Starting with Chief Superintendent Manners.”
“Manners?” He looked at her curiously. “Now that you mention it, I have heard Manners bellyaching about a Debbie Harker on his staff—wild woman, pain in the neck.”
“That’s me,” Debbie said without hesitation.
Jake studied her through narrowed eyes. “I had a meeting set up with Liz James who was going to spill the beans about a nasty character called Lucky Driver. All I know about her appearance is that she’s blond, and they don’t come much blonder than you. You really expect me to believe you’re not her?”
“That’s right. Because I’m not.”
Jake drew a sharp breath and snatched up the telephone and called the desk. “Is there a young woman with fair hair waiting down there?” he barked.
Debbie could just hear the male receptionist’s voice. “There was someone answering that description but she’s gone now. If you’re Mr. Garfield, she left you a verbal message.”
“I’m Garfield. What did she say?”
The receptionist cleared his throat awkwardly and repeated the message. It was extremely vulgar, very explicit, and left no doubt that Jake would be wasting his time trying that source of information again. Jake swore and slammed down the phone. “Now see what your interference has done!” he snapped.
“Just a minute,” Debbie muttered, and seized the phone in her turn. “Hello, reception? This is Room 18. Has a Mr. Speke been asking for me?”
“No, madame.”
“Are you sure?”
“There’s been only a young lady and she’s gone.”
“Thank you.” She replaced the receiver, chagrined.
“So much for Mr. Speke,” Jake said ironically.
“He exists. He’s making my client’s life a misery.”
“So you were going to strip off by way of persuading him to stop?”
Debbie ground her teeth. “He’s a blackmailer—”
“He’s a blackmailer?” Jake demanded with angry hilarity.
“I was trying to compromise him to get him to stop his nasty activities but you fouled it all up.”
“I— Now wait! You approached me in the lobby, not the other way around. There were no names. You just assumed—on no evidence whatever—that I was Speke.”
“Not ‘on no evidence.’ There was the way you looked at me, raising your eyebrows.”
“Raising—”
“As if you were asking me if I was the right person.”
“I was asking if you were the right person. But you weren’t.”
“How was I supposed to know that? And then there was your car. It’s a rich man’s car.”
“No need to tell me that. I live in poverty just to keep up the repayments.”
“You’re not too poor to afford handmade shoes.”
“I have bad feet,” he said through gritted teeth. “I need handmade shoes. So that’s enough to convict me of blackmail, is it? I wish I could sit through one of your cases in court. It must be interesting.”
“You played along,” she said indignantly. “You didn’t use any names, either, and you didn’t try to stop me stripping off.”
“I was fascinated to know how far you were ready to go.”
“Oh, yes?”
“And I was riveted by the performance, I don’t deny. You have some very special skills there. In fact...” He stopped and looked at her speculatively. “Very special,” he repeated slowly. “So special, in fact, that you might be the one woman I need.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Let’s assume that you really are ex-policewoman Debbie Harker. I’m not convinced but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“You’re so kind,” she murmured ironically.
“Once you worked on the side of the law, but who knows whose side you’re on now?”
“Hey—”
“Let’s say that you’ve had no success as a P.I.—a reasonable assumption after today’s fiasco. Let’s say that you’re desperate, that you’ll take any job without asking too many questions.”
“No, let’s not say that,” she said angrily. “Because it isn’t true.”
“So you claim. But suppose you were sent here by Lucky Driver, who maybe suspected that his girlfriend might be about to rat on him? Your job was to distract me so that she never got the chance to talk.”
“Rubbish,” Debbie said trenchantly. “If he thought that, it would be simpler for him to prevent her coming here at all. You don’t believe a word you’ve just said.”
“You miss the point, Miss Harker. I could choose to believe it, thus giving myself an excuse to dump you in the cells. Couldn’t I?”
“If you want to be unpleasant about this, yes.”
“But I am unpleasant,” he informed her affably. “Ask around. You won’t find anyone with a good word to say for me. And I don’t just mean the crooks.”
“I believe it.”
“So the question is, what are you going to do to convince me that you’re on the side of the angels?”
“Sock you in the jaw,” she said darkly.
He grinned. “Don’t try it. You caught me by surprise with that rugby tackle, but I’m on guard now. You wrecked a good case, but I’m going to be reasonable about it because you can be useful to me.”
“Suppose I don’t want to be useful to you?” she demanded crossly.
“Let’s say it’s in your own interests to convince me that you’re who and what you say you are.”
His eyes were hard and uncompromising. Debbie faced him defiantly, but she knew that he held the high cards. “So how am I going to be useful?”
“I need a woman to work undercover with me.”
“There are plenty of policewomen for that.”
“None who are suitable. This job requires special skills, the kind you’ve proved you have in abundance. Do you know Lucky’s Place?”
“I’ve heard of it. It’s a nightclub. Very glitzy and expensive.”
“It’s also a gambling establishment where a great deal of money gets lost and won. The perfect laundering setup for drug money, and probably a drug distribution center.”
“Is that how it’s being used?”
“I’m sure of it. The key lies with the man who owns and runs it, Abel Driver, known to his friends and enemies as ‘Lucky.’ He’s a crook who uses the nightclub as a cover for crime, but proving it is another matter. I plan to get a job on the inside, but that’s not enough. Lucky has a weakness for women. You can get closer to him than I ever could. It’s no use hoping for anything from Liz. She’ll be on the run by now, if she’s got any sense.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“I don’t think so. What?”
“My professional pride.”
“Your what?” he asked hilariously.
“My professional pride,” she repeated through gritted teeth. “I happen to be on a case at the moment. You may think it’s just a big joke—”
“If you conduct them all as you did today I think I’ll die laughing,” he retorted without any sign of amusement whatsoever.
She resisted the temptation to toss her drink over him. “I’m on a case,” she repeated. “I can’t undertake another job until Elroy Speke is stopped.”
“Are you out of your mind? You’ve blown your own case as thoroughly as you’ve blown mine.”
“Then you’ll have to help me with him, won’t you?”
“What? Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than pick up the pieces after your mistakes?”
“Not at the moment you haven’t, because without my help you can’t pursue Lucky Driver.”
“And I’m going to have your help—if you know what’s good for you.”
Debbie gave him a sudden mischievous smile that brought a tremor of remembered enchantment to his loins and a scowl to his face. “Oh, I’ll help you, Detective Inspector,” she declared with a theatrical emphasis that warned him something was coming. “At least, I’ll do my very best. But I can’t promise how good my best will be when I’m so worried about Elroy Speke and my poor client...”
“Somebody should have strangled you at birth,” he growled.
“Will you help me neutralize Speke?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll neutralize him myself, without any help from you. That way I can be sure there won’t be any foul-ups.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it!”
“I won’t.”
“Now all that remains is for you to tell me where I can get hold of your photographer.”
“What do you want him for?”
“Because I’m not going to stand for that kind of picture of me on the open market. I’m going to get his pictures and then I’m going to put the fear of God into him. Now, who is he and where do I find him?”
“I never betray a source.”
“You’ll betray this one.”
“Like hell I will.” Debbie set her chin, her eyes glinting with defiance.
After a moment Jake shrugged. He could recognize mulelike stubbornness when he saw it, and there was no point in fighting about this when his contacts would probably enable him to track the man down. He’d gotten a reasonable look at him. “Give me your address,” he said. “I’ll be in touch when I’m ready.” He took the paper she handed him and said, “Cancel anything else you have on hand and hold yourself in readiness.”
Debbie gritted her teeth. “I can see why you’re so popular.”
“I never wasted time on popularity, Miss Harker. It never put anyone behind bars. Now, let’s get out of here. I’m busy if you’re not.”
He walked out of the hotel bedroom, forcing her to follow. “You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?” she said scathingly.
For answer, he turned so that she was forced to back against the wall. “You’ve only just got a glimpse of how charming I can be. There’ll be others—”
“Hey...” she said suddenly, for she’d seen something over his shoulder.
“Just a moment, I haven’t finished.”
“But there’s—”
“Be quiet and listen. I don’t want to work with you because, frankly, your working methods aren’t impressive, but circumstances are going to force it on me. But let’s set the ground rules. I give the orders and you take them. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, mon capitane!” She saluted ironically.
“Are you trying to be funny?” he asked coldly.
“Would you know the difference?”
“Don’t push me, Miss Harker.”
“Then don’t lecture me about your brilliant methods. While your attention was occupied trying to scare me a man came up in the lift, took one look at us and went down again. I strongly suspect he was Elroy Speke.”
Jake swore and made a dash for the lift, but it wouldn’t respond to his furious pressure on the button. “He must have jammed it open downstairs,” Debbie observed. “It’s too late now. Which means we’ve both managed to lose him today, and I’d say that left us about even. Wouldn’t you, Inspector?”
* * *
The next day Debbie contacted Chief Superintendent Manners, her old mentor, and arranged to meet him for a drink after work. He choked with laughter at the story. “All right, it wasn’t that funny,” she said crossly, watching his massive shoulders shake.
“It’s hilarious,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You and Jake Garfield, crossing each other’s wires. I’ll bet he was fit to die.”
“Fit to kill, more like. Me.”
“If you mucked up one of his cases I’m not surprised.”
“He mucked up one of mine,” Debbie said, seething.
“I’ll bet that’s not how he saw it.”
“Oh, sure. He tried to make out it was all my fault. He’s the rudest man I ever met.”
“He doesn’t like losing out.”
“I asked you here because I wondered what you knew of him.”
“I’ve worked with him a few times. I can’t say I’ve taken to him. Few people do. He doesn’t put himself out to be amiable. He does things his way and you like it or lump it.”
“You used to bawl me out for doing much the same thing.”
“True. But he does undercover work so he can get away with it more easily.”
“Plus he’s a man so he can get away with it more easily.”
“Will you come off your soapbox?” Manners begged. “I’ve had a tough day.”
“But it’s true. You wouldn’t have put him behind a desk.”
“I wouldn’t dare try. He’s a very hard man. No vices, no weaknesses.”
“Phooey!”
“Well, it’s what they say. He became a bit of a legend. His nickname is Stoneface.”
“That I can believe.”
“Stone face, stone heart. That’s the word on him. It’s impossible to blackmail him, bribe him, flatter him or seduce him...” Manners looked at her curiously. “Unless you know differently?”
Debbie gave a reminiscent smile. “Well, I certainly ruffled his cool. Just how deep it went, I have yet to find out.”
“I hope you haven’t turned him into your enemy.”
Debbie gave a choke of laughter. “I’ve turned him into a reluctant colleague. He wants me to help him snare Lucky Driver.” She related the conversation and Manners whistled.
“I can see what he means, though,” he said thoughtfully. “You could get under Lucky’s skin if any woman could. Mind you, it’s putting your head into the lion’s den. It’s not very gallant of him to shove you in there. Still, Stoneface never did think of anything but the job in hand.”
“At least it shows he regards me as a serious colleague,” Debbie observed.
“Yes...” Manners said slowly.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Well, he doesn’t like working with women. He says they’re unreliable. I’ve heard him be downright insulting on the subject. You must have really impressed him.”
“Oh, I impressed him all right,” Debbie said. “As cannon fodder.” She spoke crossly, for Jake’s attitude was irritating. She was used to fending men off. What she wasn’t used to was men who looked her beauty up and down and assessed its suitability for a job. His attitude was doubly insulting after what had passed between them in the hotel room. After that, he simply had no right to turn a cool, appraising eye on her. Still, she reflected, she had rather invited that approach.
To her surprise, three days passed before she heard from Jake. During that time the only thing that enlivened her boredom was a small newspaper item reporting that “entrepreneur Elroy Speke” had suffered a burglary at his office. It appeared that Mr. Speke had declined to call the police since he blamed himself for lax security, preferred not to cause trouble, and various other reasons all equally unconvincing. Nonetheless, the story had somehow found its way into the press, together with the information that every single paper in his filing cabinets had been removed, leaving only an empty shell and a note saying that the contents would be destroyed unread.
Debbie read this through carefully, then whistled in unwilling tribute to Jake Garfield.
The following evening she went out with a team she often worked with, trawling the city streets for homeless youngsters who could be taken to a safe place. With her huge, shapeless sweater, her face bare of makeup and her glorious fair hair pulled tightly back, she looked very different than the seductive beauty who’d attacked Jake’s defenses so successfully a few days ago.
Coming home at two in the morning, she went into the darkened flat, and stopped, instantly alert. There was no sound or movement, but all her senses told her that she wasn’t alone. She tensed, ready for action, but then some instinct made her say into the darkness, “I suppose the man who could burgle Elroy Speke so thoroughly would have no trouble with my locks.”
“That’s very good,” said a cool voice.
She snapped on the light and saw Jake sprawled on her sofa. He had three days’ growth of beard and looked as if he hadn’t slept or eaten for at least that time. He rubbed his eyes as if it was an effort to keep them open. “I was expecting to hear from you before this,” she said.
“My time’s been rather taken up. A man I put away escaped from jail, hell-bent on killing me. He’s back behind bars now, but I had to give him all my attention—well, almost all. Here.” He handed her a large brown envelope.
Debbie pulled it open quickly. It contained the compromising pictures of Jane Quinlan, looking fifteen years younger than the woman Debbie knew. There was also a full set of negatives.
“I took everything he had and destroyed all the others,” Jake said with a yawn. “But I thought you’d like to give these back to your client.”
“She’ll be thrilled,” Debbie breathed. “Thank you.” She colored suddenly. “I couldn’t have done it so thoroughly.”
“You underrate yourself. Your, er, talents would have achieved a result in the end.”
“Yes, I could have gotten Jane’s pictures, but I couldn’t have saved all his other victims, the way you have,” Debbie said honestly.
“You’re a fair-minded woman,” Jake said, regarding her. He sighed and added reluctantly, “I guess I can work with you.”
“But you’d much rather not,” Debbie said, goaded by his tone.
“But I’d much rather not,” he agreed.
“You don’t like working with women at all, do you?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” he demanded sarcastically.
“Chief Manners. I asked him about you.”
“What a coincidence. I asked him about you.”
“According to him, you’re known as Stoneface.”
“He says you’re brave, resourceful and trustworthy—”
“But?” For Jake’s tone clearly contained a “but.”
“But too prone to get some bee in your bonnet and forget everything else. In other words, you’re unreliable, and to me that wipes out all the rest. And, yes, since you’re asking, I’d say the same about any female colleague. I’ve worked with women before and always ended up swearing never, never again. I acted on impulse the other day and I wish I hadn’t. Unfortunately it’s too late to cancel the plan. My superiors are delighted with it, so I’m stuck with it.”
“Stuck with me, you mean?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “I must have been out of my head. You, of all people, with your scatterbrained way of working...”
“You can’t forget one little mistake, can you?” she snapped.
“One little mistake was all right with me but it’ll be one too many with Lucky Driver. He’s a ruthless murderer. Do you know what happened to Liz James?”
“No.”
“Neither do I, and that worries the hell out of me. She’s vanished off the face of the earth. I hope that means she’s gone into hiding but it might mean something more sinister.”
“It makes it the right moment for me to appear in Lucky’s life,” Debbie said thoughtfully. “He’s not only lost his woman, he’s lost face. He needs a new woman on his arm, someone spectacular.”
The relish with which she said “spectacular” made Jake look at her sharply. For the first time he fully took in her shabby clothing and absence of makeup. It didn’t matter, he realized. Her glorious sexual aura was so vital a part of her that it shone through her prosaic garments. It was there in her glowing skin, in the instinctive elegance of her movements. It breathed through her every pore. This was a woman whose sexuality could give a man heaven or hell. The hell he already knew about. The heaven was a dream whose fulfillment had been cruelly snatched away from him.
As he stared, the formless clothes seemed to become transparent, enabling him to see the beautiful frame beneath, as he’d seen it before, once in reality and every moment since in his unwilling consciousness. The memory dominated what little sleep he’d had these last few days.
“And you think you’re spectacular enough for this assignment?” he asked ironically.
“Don’t you?” she asked simply.
He took a deep breath. “I guess you already know the answer to that.”
“I can be as spectacular as I have to be. Just leave the details to me.”
He seemed to speak with an effort. “Well, now that we’ve got that settled, I can give you your orders.”
Debbie stiffened at the word “orders.” “How about we tackle this as a team of equals?” she said, trying to sound pleasant.
“No. How about we do it the efficient way, with me leading and you following?” he said curtly. “This is a police matter and the police must direct it.”
It was a reasonable argument and if he’d spoken courteously Debbie would have accepted it, but his brusque tone set her back up. “So you’re going to tell me how to win Lucky Driver’s heart?” she challenged. “Perhaps you’d like to refer me to the appropriate chapter in the police manual.”
He regarded her cynically. “I didn’t think hearts were what you dealt in.”
“I deal in whatever the job requires,” she snapped.
“Yes, I remember. Now, can we talk practicalities? Driver is interviewing women for his floor show. You can meet him that way. The rest is up to you. But as soon as possible you get me a job close to him.”
“Consider it done. Now I need some tea.”
She went into the kitchen. When the tea was made she carried a cup out to him. But he made no response and she realized that he’d fallen asleep.
He lay with his head back against the cushions, his big body sprawled the length of the sofa. His clothes were shabby but they couldn’t hide the magnificent lines of his frame. A frisson of remembered pleasure went through Debbie as she thought of how well she already knew that body, how she’d pressed it, almost naked, against her own, excited by the awareness of his strength. Now his limbs lay where they’d fallen, as though a puppet master had dropped the strings, yet the feeling of latent power was still there. Fate had made them antagonists, but the excitement wouldn’t go away.
His hands lay still, as if they’d never been filled with tension, touching her urgently. They were shapely hands with long, blunt-ended fingers that spoke of skill and subtlety. She had to fight the temptation to touch them.
He looked exhausted. Beneath the dark stubble he was pale and drawn and there were shadows under his eyes. She considered his looks feature by feature. He was handsome but there was a lack of symmetry about his face that made it interesting. He had thick eyebrows that almost met over the top of his long nose. The angles of his jaw were sharply defined, and he had a stubborn chin.
She disliked him but she had to respect him. He’d dealt with Elroy Speke with a speed and thoroughness that was impressive. But it was his total absence of scruple that left her awed and secretly thrilled. She, too, had often ignored the book, but this man tore the book up and made a bonfire of the pieces, and there was a renegade streak in Debbie that responded to it with delight. In his uncompromising, quirky face, she saw the mark of the outsider that called to her. Crazy as it sounded, she and this man were fellow spirits.