Read Online Lost City (An Eoin Miller Mystery Book 3) by Jay Stringer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jay Stringer
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battery had run down overnight, leaving me with a useless piece of plastic.
Good.
I shuffled round the flat in my underwear, pretending I wasn’t searching for traces of another man, someone who had taken my place in the years since the divorce. I even checked the toiletries in the bathroom. Nothing. I took that with a swell of pride and then cursed myself for being a dick. I showered and grinned a little when I was forced to use Laura’s deodorant.
I slipped back into the cheap clothes Laura had picked out for me and drove back into town smelling like a summer meadow.
Before Gaines had promoted me, I’d been renting a flat out in Wednesbury, a fifteen-minute drive outside of the city. I’d been working as a soccer coach at the new local sports facility Gaines had built, and handling whatever odd jobs she’d thrown my way—usually finding people who didn’t want to be found. The promotion had tipped my world upside down. I had a cut of the illegal side of things, and my name was on enough official paperwork that the taxman now thought nothing of me owning a renovated loft apartment on Princess Street, overlooking the city center.
It was all white paint and wood paneling, with glossy laminate flooring. I tried not to think of what the younger version of me would have thought of it. It suited the adult me just fine. Gaines owned the rest of the building and I handled the renting of the flats, which meant I got to pick and choose my neighbors. I had an attractive young lawyer living in the flat below mine, and on the same floor as me was a young footballer who hadn’t yet earned enough to run away to Sutton or Birmingham. It had been the perfect arrangement, right up until Claire Gaines somehow got a key and came and went as she pleased.
She’d started selling drugs to the lawyer and was stringing the footballer along with innuendo and half-promises. The second didn’t bother me, but I wanted the lawyer off the drugs or out of the building. I just hadn’t figured out which. I climbed the stairs and opened my door, bracing myself for a rush of questions from Claire, but she wasn’t there.
I plugged in my phone to charge, and changed into my own clothes before setting about making breakfast in the open kitchen. Both my parents loved cooking, and they had never seemed to relax as well together as when they worked with each other on a meal. It had rubbed off. I found something soothing about pulling down spice jars, throwing random flavors together. Most of my best thinking was done over the soup pot or balti pan. I threw some chopped tomatoes and onions into hot oil and let them start to sizzle before throwing in a large slice of pork.
I could hear my phone buzzing every few seconds to tell me of another missed call or text, but I ignored it until I’d poured my food out onto a flour tortilla and set it on a plate beside the strongest cup of coffee known to mankind. I flicked through the messages as I ate. There were three voice mails from Gaines and four texts:
WTF? Call me.
Where are u?
Fuck Sake. Call.
I’ll try Claire’s number.
That last one sent a wave of ice through my guts. Did Gaines know what had been going on between me and her sister? The voice mails sounded increasingly urgent. Whatever was eating at her was going to be eating at me as soon as I called her back.
There was also a text from Laura:
We’ll talk.
We sure would.
My phone buzzed one more time as a final message was delivered, and it was short and simple from Claire. I read it a couple of times without understanding what it meant.
You Are In The Shit. XXX
I took a deep breath and called Gaines.
She picked up straight away and didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What the fuck?”
I tried to find something to hold on to. “What?”
“What did you do?”
When? What? Was she talking about me and Claire or me and Laura? “What do you—”
“The hotel,” she snapped at me, her voice sounding frayed, even nervous. “I
Good.
I shuffled round the flat in my underwear, pretending I wasn’t searching for traces of another man, someone who had taken my place in the years since the divorce. I even checked the toiletries in the bathroom. Nothing. I took that with a swell of pride and then cursed myself for being a dick. I showered and grinned a little when I was forced to use Laura’s deodorant.
I slipped back into the cheap clothes Laura had picked out for me and drove back into town smelling like a summer meadow.
Before Gaines had promoted me, I’d been renting a flat out in Wednesbury, a fifteen-minute drive outside of the city. I’d been working as a soccer coach at the new local sports facility Gaines had built, and handling whatever odd jobs she’d thrown my way—usually finding people who didn’t want to be found. The promotion had tipped my world upside down. I had a cut of the illegal side of things, and my name was on enough official paperwork that the taxman now thought nothing of me owning a renovated loft apartment on Princess Street, overlooking the city center.
It was all white paint and wood paneling, with glossy laminate flooring. I tried not to think of what the younger version of me would have thought of it. It suited the adult me just fine. Gaines owned the rest of the building and I handled the renting of the flats, which meant I got to pick and choose my neighbors. I had an attractive young lawyer living in the flat below mine, and on the same floor as me was a young footballer who hadn’t yet earned enough to run away to Sutton or Birmingham. It had been the perfect arrangement, right up until Claire Gaines somehow got a key and came and went as she pleased.
She’d started selling drugs to the lawyer and was stringing the footballer along with innuendo and half-promises. The second didn’t bother me, but I wanted the lawyer off the drugs or out of the building. I just hadn’t figured out which. I climbed the stairs and opened my door, bracing myself for a rush of questions from Claire, but she wasn’t there.
I plugged in my phone to charge, and changed into my own clothes before setting about making breakfast in the open kitchen. Both my parents loved cooking, and they had never seemed to relax as well together as when they worked with each other on a meal. It had rubbed off. I found something soothing about pulling down spice jars, throwing random flavors together. Most of my best thinking was done over the soup pot or balti pan. I threw some chopped tomatoes and onions into hot oil and let them start to sizzle before throwing in a large slice of pork.
I could hear my phone buzzing every few seconds to tell me of another missed call or text, but I ignored it until I’d poured my food out onto a flour tortilla and set it on a plate beside the strongest cup of coffee known to mankind. I flicked through the messages as I ate. There were three voice mails from Gaines and four texts:
WTF? Call me.
Where are u?
Fuck Sake. Call.
I’ll try Claire’s number.
That last one sent a wave of ice through my guts. Did Gaines know what had been going on between me and her sister? The voice mails sounded increasingly urgent. Whatever was eating at her was going to be eating at me as soon as I called her back.
There was also a text from Laura:
We’ll talk.
We sure would.
My phone buzzed one more time as a final message was delivered, and it was short and simple from Claire. I read it a couple of times without understanding what it meant.
You Are In The Shit. XXX
I took a deep breath and called Gaines.
She picked up straight away and didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What the fuck?”
I tried to find something to hold on to. “What?”
“What did you do?”
When? What? Was she talking about me and Claire or me and Laura? “What do you—”
“The hotel,” she snapped at me, her voice sounding frayed, even nervous. “I
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