Harry bite hungrily a piece of a sandwich Fry had just brought back for lunch even if it was well after 2. She pored over the papers on the desk, still focused on the job. She was reading the Thorn brothers files again, hoping to see something, a connection between them and Coltrane, or between them and one of the passengers with criminal records.
On her right, Dempsey was slumped in his chair, his left hand holding his head while his right hand was picking up a coin on the desk for the umpteenth time of the day. He put it back on its edge and gave it a quick twirl so that the coin started spinning furiously on itself with a low ruffling noise. Then the coin lost speed and stopped on the surface of the desk with much clatter. Once it was motionless, James picked it up, only to do it all over again.
Harry was used to his irritating behaviour and did nothing more than glancing at him, but the American was far away, lost in his childish game. He was clearly upset to be grounded in the office while Thompson was fishing for clues outside. A few of the officers seemed irritated by the recurrent noise, but none of them dared say anything.
When the door opened, he glanced sideways and sat upright recognising Thompson. The coin fell on the floor with a rattling noise but nobody bothered to retrieve it.
"So?"
Thompson grabbed a sandwich and fell in his chair, smiling. "My 'friend' Gary told me that two Americans arrived about a week ago. Brothers. They're working for another American but nobody knows who he is."
"So what's new?"
Thompson grinned. "You remember we thought they had to ask questions about your children, well Gary didn't want to talk about those Americans for long but he gave me the name of a little con who tipped off two Americans for a big bag of money some days ago."
"Yeah?" Dempsey didn't dare to set his hopes too high, but he couldn't help feeling hopeful; they might have a way to find those bastards.
"The name's Lucky Willy. I know him, he's a small criminal. Shoplifting, con game, some illegal bets, anything that can bring him some money, but nothing very serious. I know the pubs where he usually hangs out."
"Pubs." The American repeated. "You're sure you're gonna find him in his usual pub?"
"Sure, the man's got his own little routine. Plus, it's been a few days now, he's not expecting us anymore."
Dempsey squashed his mouth doubtfully but nodded. He got up, retrieved his coin on the ground and started twirling it again. Harry frowned, she was surprised he hadn't asked to go looking for this Lucky Willy. She watched him more closely and saw that his eyes were half-opened, half-closed, as if he was thinking hard about something. But since the beginning of this enquiry, she had had problems to know how he was feeling, at first because she hadn't paid any attention, being too furious and distressed herself, and now because he kept changing like a lunatic, being focused on the job one minute and lost in his own thoughts the next. Being unable to say if he was brooding or building up his own theory, she devoted herself once more to the list of names in front of her.
...
Harry drew her jacket tighter around her as she walked side to side with her husband. The night was falling rapidly over the city with a slight breeze and when she had gotten up this morning she hadn't planned to be strolling down one of the most disreputable streets of London. "Remind me what we're doing here."
"Thompson's friend said the Thorn brothers had their information from this Lucky Willy, right? So if we find him, he may know where we can find the brothers."
"Yes, I know that, but Thompson's already looking for Lucky Willy." She paused but had no reaction except for a snort. "Well at least Thompson is looking for him in the right part of the city. You read the file, this isn't Lucky Willy's neighbourhood!"
Dempsey smirked. "Lucky Willy ain't in his neighbourhood at the moment."
"Why wouldn't he be?"
"He's just fed bad information to a mad guy, a murderer. Believe me he's not sitting on his butt, waiting for that guy to find him."
Harry frowned slightly. Maybe he was right. "But you're still not telling me why we're here."
"We're here because I did read his file and Willy's got a little sister."
"And you think you can learn something from her?"
Dempsey stopped and looked at her, grinning impishly for some reason. "Who knows?" Then he started walking again. "She's working up this street."
"This street?" Harry shuddered, looking at the dirty poorly lit street littered with garbage. It was clearly lowlife.
"Yeah, only she's far less refined than you, if you see what I mean."
Harry frowned then rolled her eyes as the penny dropped. "What are you expecting from her? Pillow talk?"
Dempsey grinned. "Come on, I think that's her." He nodded towards a girl wearing high heels, fishnet stockings, a mini skirt and a sexy red top; she was leaning under a street lamp.
"How do you know?"
"I still got friends working for vice." He simply said but his grin faded as he spotted a car braking in front of the prostitute and he started taking larger strides at once.
He slammed back the door the girl had been opening and leaned by the car window. "Sorry mate, this one's taken!" Ignoring the insults the man in the car was yelling at him, he turned round and started walking, holding the girl's arm.
"Hey calm down! I'm coming!" She complained, then she watched him appreciatively and lowered her voice to dulcet tones. "You're quite a hunk, baby. Where do you wanna go?"
"It's up to you." Dempsey answered. "Either we go at your place to see Willy, or we can go straight at the police. What do you choose?"
The girl looked fearful for a few seconds and tried to free her arm. "Let go off me, pig!"
Harry caught up with them at that moment. "Seems like you're not going to have much fun with her after all."
...
"We're here." The prostitute sulked in front a shabby front door.
"The keys." Dempsey demanded, his hand outstretched.
Grumbling furiously, the girl leaned and pushed a flower pot behind which she usually hid her keys. She froze. "The keys aren't there."
James and Harry looked at each other. Instinctively, Dempsey raised a hand to his chest, only to remember he was unarmed. Cursing English laws, he flattened his body on the wall near the door. He gave a slight push and the door creaked ajar. "You stay with her."
Before Harry could say anything he had gone through the door and disappeared inside. There was no light on and the surrounding darkness offered him a poor vision but he knew he couldn't switch on the lights as this was his only cover being unarmed. Without his gun, he felt exposed, vulnerable, and he didn't like it.
He passed two opened doors and as he peered inside each room he couldn't keep the butterflies away, expecting to get shot any moment. But each time the room was empty. Walking silently across the corridor, he reached the last door. It was ajar. Taking a deep breath, he leaned on the wall, prickling his ear. He couldn't hear a noise inside the room.
He risked a glance but didn't see anything. Plucking up his courage, he jumped to the right, opening the door wide. His eyes travelled around the grimy bedroom, from the peeling walls to the ragged cover on the rusty bed. At the first glance this room looked empty too, but then he noticed it. A foot was protruding on the ground behind the bed.
Checking behind the cupboard door as he went, Dempsey walked round the bed. Lucky Willy was lying in a pool of his own blood, a big dark red hole in his chest. Dempsey shook his head, they had been beaten up at the little game. Whoever was pulling strings was still a step ahead of them.
"Life is hard then you die." He sighed his old motto looking at the body on the ground.
From the corner of his eye, Dempsey saw movement. A shadow had just appeared in the doorway; he turned to face his opponent, his fists raised, ready to fight, and stopped wide-eyed in front of his wife. His breathing came in rapid shallow gasps. Harry frowned, seeing his agitation.
"You fine?"
"Yeah." He said, relieved. He ran a hand in his hair. "But Willy's been better."
Harry joined him and moaned putting a hand in front of her mouth. She had lost the habit to see such things.
"Looks like Willy wasn't that lucky after all." Dempsey quipped.
His wife frowned and left the room, dialling on her cell phone. Dempsey glanced at the dead man again. He was frustrated; they wouldn't be able to question him, but at the same time, he wasn't sorry the guy'd been iced. He had sold his family after all.