Palmer Ch. 06

"One of those apartments are empty, or the owners are away," Palmer deduced. "Probably the same floor as this, or possibly the one above. I want to take a look over there."

***

Dominic DeVere needed to see Dennis Price. It was time to introduce himself. Take care of business. Price needed to understand his place in the scheme of things.

The Ming Jiang restaurant was a favourite of his and the private room overlooking Hyde Park was ideal. The beautiful Chinese woman who greeted them looked not a day older than eighteen. They always were young. He made that requirement clear.

She had a tiny flower of a girl's face that worked in perfect harmony with her dusky, Southern Chinese skin and glossy black hair. The form-fitting, yellow mandarin dress was a nice touch, hugging the girl's slender body, yet short enough to show off her shapely thighs.

"Welcome," she smiled, her voice as delicate as her figure, her bow as graceful as the meaning of her name. "I am Nuo and I will take care of you today. You like drink before order lunch?"

DeVere nodded as he removed his shoes. He sat cross-legged. "Dennis?"

"I'd like a bourbon," Price asked, following suit, albeit a little uneasily. This was definitely out of his comfort zone.

"Make that two," the keen eyed entrepreneur told their young host, unable to resist a smile at Price's discomfort. "So Dennis, I'm so pleased to have you on my team."

"Yourteam?"

"Oh yes," DeVere answered. His face was smiling but his grey eyes weren't. They were observing every movement on Price's tired face. You could tell as much from facial expressions as the words people used. "There are a few things you need to know..."

He paused as Nuo returned, bowing low as she placed the drinks onto the low table in front of the two men.

DeVere smiled up at her, his grey eyes wandering across her young body. "How old are you, Nuo?"

"Eighteen," her melodic voice answered.

"How long have you worked here?"

She bowed, her yellow-blue eyes as attractive as the rest of her face. "Six months. I study at University. This gives me enough money to help my studies."

"Studying what?" Price asked, his overlarge eyes running across the perfect, young body. DeVere didn't miss the look.

"Engleesh. I want to be school teacher back in Shanghai."

"Ambitious," Price responded. "Have..."

DeVere interrupted. "Would you bring the menu's now, Nuo. We need to order." He had just enough time to brief Price before his meeting later that afternoon with Giovanni.

The girl bowed again as she left. "Hai."

"Forgive me for being rude," the grey haired man told Price. "There'll be time enough for Nuo afterwards. For now, let me tell you a story..."

***

They chatted about the forthcoming assignment in Milan over salads. The day was beautiful outside, and their window seats overlooking the Thames were very private.

"Tell me, Kelli," Erin asked, smiling into the enthralled young model's eyes. "How does all that sound?" She'd painted the most delightful pictures of the runway show, the Italian city, and the parties that went on during and after. She split the last of their second bottle of wine between their glasses.

Kelli's chest heaved as she'd absorbed every word. Her mind raced, trying to find the suitable words of thanks. "It sounds wonderful. Erin... I can't tell you how much this all means to me. I can't believe how quickly it's all happened."

"That's how I work, darling," the American woman responded. "As if every day could be my last. Life's too short for regrets, don't you think?"

Kelli nodded, flashing her brown eyes at her mentor. She felt so alive, so in tune with life and the beautiful scenery around her. That scenery included Erin, with those high cheekbones and glittering eyes. "You know, Erin," she agreed. "I'm only just beginning to realise that."

"I worked it out when I was your age," the Agency Head smiled. "And I've never looked back. But tell me, darling, what does your husband think of all this? Excited for you?"

"Ye... yes," the blonde replied, not too convincingly.

"Which means?" Erin asked, picking up on the hesitation.

"It's difficult," Kelli replied a little uneasily, running a finger around the rim of her empty glass. "It's been difficult with Jack and I for a while."

The Agency Head reached across the cleared table and settled her hand on Kelli's. This sounded perfect. "Want to tell, darling?"

The blonde looked across the small table at Erin's sympathetic face. It was easy to see why she'd been a supermodel herself in her youth. She was still devastatingly beautiful, but in an intelligent, mature way that set her apart from the models she managed.

For a few moments Kelli was quiet, stopping herself for fear of how Erin would react. Would the other woman judge her? She didn't want to sounds like she came with a lot of baggage, but there was also so much on her mind.

She took a deep breath and let it all out. "Different priorities, I guess. I love Jack. But more and more it seems that what he and I want are poles apart. It's crunch time. I feel I have to make a decision. Things can't continue between us as they are."

"Have you sat down and had a heart to heart with him?"

Kelli threw back her wavy, blonde hair and snorted. "How can I? I haven't seen him for a couple of days and he didn't even come home last night. No phone call. No note. Nothing. Chances are, I'll not see him 'til after the Milan fashion show. That's the life I lead, Erin!"

The Agency Head nodded, shared a sympathetic grimace as her thumb stroked the back of the blonde's hand. Kelli appreciated the fact that the American woman didn't cast judgement.

"What doyouthink, Erin?" she suddenly blurted. "Should I try and make it work. Give up what I'm so close to achieving to be a good cop's wife?"

A cop? That was interesting. The older woman shrugged as she ran her other hand through her short, glossy strawberry blonde hair. "That's not for me to say. I'd never even begin to offer advice," she lied. "But a couple of things occur to me."

She watched the tears build behind Kelli's eyes. The young model's eagerness for guidance was obvious. Tell her what she wants to hear.

"Well, darling. First, it seems to me like you've been trying to patch things up for some time. Has Jack met you halfway?"

The blonde's eyes dropped to the table as she shook her head. She sniffed, but held back the tears. She wasn't going to cry. Not here.

Erin squeezed the girl's hand, reaching over to tip her chin up. The women locked gazes. "Second, I do believe that life is too short, Kelli. Seize the moment. You're on the verge of modelling stardom. On the back of your own ability. It's not right that you should have to give that up, darling."

Kelli took a deep breath, nodding. "You're damn right," she snapped, banging her empty glass on the table. She coloured when she realised the vehemence of her reaction and both women laughed. "It's all down to you, Erin. I'll always be in your debt. I'll never know how to repay you. "

"I do, darling," Erin retorted, her piercing blue eyes burning into Kelli's soul. "Are you into massage?"

***

The meal was sumptuous. Dennis Price loved Chinese food. He also loved his battered pipe. When DeVere had Nuo bring and light him a cigar, the professor held out the pipe. Quite why he should look for approval, he was unsure. But he did.

When DeVere nodded, he stuffed tobacco into the pipe and lit it, allowing the smoke to fuse with that from the large, Havana cigar.

"From what I hear, you've made a big difference already," DeVere told Price. "Got Jack Donaldson to back off. That's impressive."

He allowed a large smoke ring to rotate towards the ceiling as he sipped the expensive wine. "And, Dennis, so there's no ambiguity, I understand it's a place in the public eye you want as your reward. But let's be more specific. Exactly what?"

The professor took his time, pretending to push down the ash from his pipe. It was better to be direct, he eventually decided. No point in beating around the bush with a man like DeVere. "A safe seat that will get me elected," he said, his voice monotone. "And then Party Chairman."

DeVere smiled. "Not much to ask, Dennis..."

"I'll deliver in return," Price responded. His voice was matter of fact. It was a statement of intention, not an empty boast.

"Oh, I know you will," DeVere said, flashing one ofthosesmiles. A smile full of authority. Full of, 'or else'.

Price nodded. He didn't want to come over as deferential to the man opposite, but after everything DeVere had positioned with him over lunch, he was well aware he couldn't afford to get on his wrong side.

"Well," the hunch-backed man eventually said, searching for the right words, "It seems like you've been doing well enough without me. Maybe I can just help with that final push..."

"Final push and beyond," DeVere smiled. "Labour is so far behind in the polls that we'll need every single edge to keep George in power for a second term. You'll have a big part to play in that. So will I."

"I won't let anyone down."

"Oh, I know," DeVere smiled, allowing another smoke ring to leave his lips. He stubbed out the barely half smoked cigar in the ashtray. "I must leave shortly, Dennis. Anything you'd like to ask before I go? Anything unclear?"

"Nothing's unclear," Price answered. "You've set out the position very well, Dominic. I understand perfectly. But, I'm curious - tell me what attracted you to George Blair in the first place."

DeVere paused, swilling the wine around his mouth before swallowing. It was as if he was debating whether to deign to answer. "That's a fair question," he eventually said. "His passion. And his drive. I wanted to back a winner. He has that combination of qualities that'll make him a success. All he needed was a little help."

"That's where you came in?" Price asked, nibbling on his pipe.

DeVere nodded, but that was all. He had a way of looking at a person when he disliked being questioned. He threw back a question of his own. "And your first impressions, Dennis. Looking inwardly. You're getting to know George Blair. Is there anything you can see getting in our way?"

Price thoughtfully tapped the dying ashes out of his pipe into the cigar filled ashtray. If DeVere wasn't interested in saying anything more about himself, he wasn't going to push it.

"For this to succeed, for all of us, there is onlyonething I need to know," he murmured, taking a long sip from the glass in front of him. "Is he clean, Dominic? Is there anything that can be pinned on him? Ruin our efforts?"

"Is anybody everthatclean," DeVere evasively responded, wiping away the image of Roxanne that immediately appeared in his mind. "But, yes, Dennis, there's nothing I believe anyone can pin on George. He'll stand up to scrutiny."

Price could tell from the tone that there was some sort of story in there. He was sensible enough not to ask. "That's good. And his wife is supportive? And just as clean."

DeVere actually laughed. This time it was a softer noise, almost one of relief. "No problems there."

"Okay, Dominic," Price nodded. "On that basis, I can guarantee you I can guide George to becoming Prime Minister. And almost guarantee I can keep him in great shape for another four years after that."

"Guarantee is a strong word, Dennis."

"I know," the professor replied. "But just like you, I'm confident in my abilities. I'm the best in my field, Dominic." It was simply a statement of fact.

"I know that, Dennis," the grey haired man responded, pushing a hand through his crew cut. "That's why I recommended you."

Price's eyebrows shot up. "You?"

"Of course. George needs the right men working with him. I know the people I want on our side. My side. I had you checked out, Dennis, and you didn't disappoint." He smiled at Price, one of those stares that confirmed he knew something.

Price nodded uneasily.

DeVere could tell the thoughts going round in his mind as if reading a book. Had him checked out? What had he found? The nervous grin that creased the edges of Price's plump face was justified.

"Well, I guess that's that," the professor said, holding up his glass as he tried to bring that particular conversation to a close.

The crew-cut man shook his head. "I don't think so, Dennis. Do you? There's one other thing."

The colour drained from the professor's face. He knew what was coming, but how did Dominic? He'd been so careful.

"I can't have anyone on the team who will damage our chances."

"Why would you think..."

DeVere clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Dennis!" His voice was severe. "Please. I told you that I checked you out. Never lie to me. And never hide anything from me. No secrets, Dennis."

Price's face became paler by the second.

"You aren't married, Dennis. Maybe that's why you have a need for prostitutes? I hope you understand – that could kill us! You think you could be Chairman of the Labour party on that basis? I don't think so!"

His hand stopped Price from responding.

"Two things, Dennis. First, you keep nothing from me.Never! Second, no more prostitutes.Am I clear?"

Price stared at his inquisitor. How the hell had he found out about... How dare he speak to him in that way? Then he realised that DeVere was talking again.

"In return for that commitment, Dennis, I'll ensure your needs are met. In a safe environment. One that can't harm us."

The professor understood the first part of the message. That was loud and clear.Don't fuck with me.But there was one thing he wasn't sure about. "How?"

DeVere didn't speak. Instead, he clapped his hands. When Nuo re-entered the room, everything made sense.

***

It had taken until early afternoon for Webster to pull the necessary strings. Palmer was right; one of the two apartments on the same floor opposite was empty. But the owners of the other were on holiday. If his theory was correct, either apartment could be the one used by the killer.

Somehow, Burley had swung some time away from base and returned to accompany Palmer to the complex. Whatever jam Webster had helped the Geordie out of, it must have been pretty serious.

In the apartment of the holidaying couple, Palmer and Burley found nothing but a pair of bruised knees. The forensics man had been exceptionally thorough, checking every item in every room. It took a good hour.

"Let's hope we have better luck in this one," Burley groaned to Palmer as they headed to the empty apartment.

"We will," the wavy haired detective responded, his jaw set in determination. "I can feel it in my water."

***

"What?" Goodwin asked. The puzzled expression on his face conveyed his bemusement.

"We can't," Sandra Wilson told him.

"Can't? They'll be away a good couple of hours at least. Webster's back at the office." He reached for her again. "Why can't we finish what we started earlier?"

Wilson pulled away, a shudder running through her body. Death always affected her this way. "Alex, a woman's just been killed. A woman at the centre of our case. Murdered."

"Yes, but..."

"God, Alex! Are all men this insensitive? We were fucking when she was shot, for goodness sake. On duty! We should have been paying attention to what was going on!"

His bemusement left him, replaced by a look of denial. "Now, wait a minute, Sandra. Are you implying we could have saved her life? Or were in some way responsible? That's bullshit!"

The dark haired detective pulled away again when he tried to hug her. Turning her back, she walked across to the window and stared at the apartments opposite. "I don't know, Alex. I just don't know. All I know was that we were fucking on duty. And a woman is dead."

"But..."

She swung back, her eyes blazing now. "For goodness sake, Alex! I... don't... want... to... fuck!" Walking across to the table, she picked up her bag and headed for the door.

"Sandra..."

"I'm going for a smoke," she shot back over her shoulder.

Goodwin's bemused look reappeared. Women!

***

Dennis Price sat transfixed as the eighteen-year-old Chinese beauty raised her hands to the button at the top of her yellow, mandarin dress. With a flick, she popped the collar open and slipped her fingers into the fold. The rest of the dress opened smoothly, pooling in shimmering silk at her feet. The naked girl bowed as she kicked it away.

Dominic DeVere smiled. He knew only to well how to ensure loyalty. Find a man's weak spot and use it. "Well, I'll leave you to it," he muttered, patronisingly patting the spin-doctor on his shoulder. "I have business to see to. Nice meeting you, professor."

Slipping his shoes on, he made his way to the door.

Price watched him go before his overlarge eyes swung back to the young girl. They were devouring her nakedness even as she floated across the short distance towards him.

"You like?" Nuo politely asked. She ran her hands across her nakedness, caressing skin that shimmered like satin. She let him to feast on her nakedness. He may have been the most unattractive man she'd been paid to fuck, but money was money. And fucking was fucking.

His eyes covered every inch of her body, unsure of what to focus on. Her small, perky breasts had little dark nipples high on their slopes. They went well with her narrow, girlish hips and small, smooth mound.

When he licked his lips, she nodded.You're going to enjoy this,her eyes said. She was very good at what she did.

Her soft hand on his shoulder prevented him from rising from his kneeling position on the floor. Stepping across his lap, she took his head in both hands and pulled it to her dewy sex. "You prepare Nuo," she explained.

Price understood. His tongue flicked out. Her skin smelled like jasmine. She tasted sweet.

"Hai," she moaned, her fingers caressing his thick, black hair. He may have been ugly, but he was good. She allowed him to lap at her for half a minute before her fingers gently pulled his head away.

"Nuo ready," she told him. With a shake of his head, he jammed it back against her. He'd had a taste and wanted more. "Nuo ready," she told him again. This time her soft voice was more of a growl.

Price licked the smooth pussy faster, changing the pace, finding her growing clit. He'd make her cum before he fucked her.

"Hai! Hai!" This was wrong. She was trained in the art of giving pleasure, not receiving. She was paid to give. But this was so good. Her legs widened. She crouched further. Her hands pulled him tighter.

He circled her clit with his tongue. Faster and faster. She raced to the edge. Her hips bucked against his head. Her juices covered his face. When he sucked on her little bud, she squealed like a chipmunk and erupted.

***

They entered the same way. Burley's experienced hands picked open the door and Palmer burst in, Kel-Tec .380 in hand. The young detective's heart was always in his mouth at times like this. Even though the odds of the killer staying around were infinitesimal, he never quite knew.

Palmer stayed low, hurrying from room to room. Only when he'd confirmed it was safe did he allow Burley inside.

The Geordie slipped on his surgical gloves for the second time that afternoon, slowly and methodically moving from room to room. Without furniture, it took no time, but the results were the same. Not a single fingerprint to be found.

"Try the area beside the two windows," Palmer irritably snapped. "There's got to be something there, somewhere."

"Nee problem," Burley smiled. "Patience, Grasshopper. If there's owt to be found, aa'l find it."

Shaking his head, Palmer wandered around the apartment. Checking. Double-checking. Nothing. Each time the forensics man took a scraping or sample, he was at Burley's side. "What've you found?"