Kiss Me Quick Read Free Page A

his notebook and started writing.
    ‘Tommy Ribbons came in with two mates,’ continued Duval. ‘Maltese guys – dark, swarthy-looking buggers from all accounts. Nattering away in their lingo, ten to the dozen, you know how they do. They sat in the booth.’ He pointed to the booth. ‘Then they ordered some drinks off one of our lovely hostesses, the only one on duty at the time as it thankfully happens. When she returned with the drinks, the two swarthy fellas were gone’ – Duval glanced down at the body ‘– and only he was left.’
    ‘Where’s the girl?’ asked Tobin.
    ‘I sent her home. She was in floods. In floods, she was, poor cow. She’s new and she comes from Luton. Never seen a dead body, let alone one like this. Nice introduction to the bright lights, eh?’
    ‘We’ll need to talk to her,’ said Tobin, ‘and see if she got a good look at the dagos.’
    Duval tut-tutted and shook his head, not in admonishment but simply to rectify that last statement. ‘They were Maltese, Eddie. Dagos are Italians.’
    ‘I thought Italians were wops,’ replied Tobin. ‘What’s the difference?’
    It was Vince’s turn to shake his head. ‘Nothing, Eddie. I think Mr Duval is just looking after you, wanting you to get your racial epithets right.’
    Duval issued a mirthless laugh, then looked Vince up and down, reappraising the young detective. ‘Oh, you’re cute. Whippet-smart, and good-looking, too,’ he said, nodding in wary admiration. ‘Double cute.’
    Vince ignored all this and carried on studying the stiff, kneeling again to take a closer look at the weapon that had put him there. ‘Big knife, not the kind you’d carry around with you,’ he said, looking up at Tobin, who knew Soho like the back of his fist. ‘There’s a hardware store on Greek Street sells kitchen supplies , right?’
    Tobin nodded, his slitty eyes showing no enthusiasm for what Vince was saying.
    ‘Maybe it wasn’t planned. They saw Tommy, went and bought the knife, invited him for a drink somewhere dark and empty,’ he continued, switching his attention to Lionel Duval. ‘Somewhere not too many questions get asked, because they don’t like the publicity, and they killed him there.’
    ‘What’s the adjunct saying, Eddie?’
    Vince stood up. On its second mention, the word ‘adjunct’ had lost its charm.
    Tobin raised two placating hands. ‘He’s saying nothing, Lionel. Just speculating.’
    ‘Any other witnesses?’ asked Vince. ‘Punters?’
    Duval shook his head, then qualified the gesture with, ‘No, we’d only just opened. We don’t attract the normal theatre crowd. We cater for a later clientele. A more adventurous punter, shall we say.’ Again with the big convivial grin, topped off with a wink. ‘All good dirty legal fun.’
    ‘So I hear. Got any of it on film?’ Vince asked.
    Duval’s grin turned into a grimace as he fixed Vince with a hard stare. ‘Litigious little fucker, ain’t he, Eddie?’
    The club owner had himself recently made front-page news in the People , when a party at his Suffolk mansion had predictably enough turned into an orgy. But, more unpredictably, it was rumoured to have been filmed, with two-way mirrors and hidden cameras all over the gaff. Some fuzzy black-and-whites of a peer of the realm and a Russian diplomat being serviced by a rent boy and one of Duval’s ‘hostesses’ had surfaced on Fleet Street. But the papers couldn’t publish them – lots of arse shots but no faces.
    ‘All good dirty legal fun,’ echoed the smiling young detective, breaking off the staring competition with Duval and turning his attention to the booth where Tommy Ribbons had sat with his killers.
    On the table, a candle stub was stuck in an empty wax-encrusted Mateus Rosé bottle but, like all the other candles in the joint, it hadn’t been lit yet. Dark as it was, Vince reckoned the hostess must have seen Tommy Ribbons cop for the knife, but then Duval had straightened her out with a few