The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

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      ‘Now where shall we go?’ he said, coming back and helping her into her coat. He flashed a grin at a frowning Orla while Annie stood there silent, wondering how she was going to get out of this without making a scene in front of them all.

      ‘Can’t go to the Liberty or the Galway, now can we?’ he said. ‘Someone went and burned the fecking things to the ground. I know. We’ll go to the Palermo Lounge. I’ve heard they get some really good acts there on a Saturday night.’

      ‘For God’s sake, Kieron,’ said Orla, really worried now.

      The Palermo was the jewel in the crown of the Carter clubs – and Max’s favourite.

      Orla was looking anxious. As well she might. Annie didn’t know what had got into Kieron, but she was liking all this less and less and she was getting seriously pissed off with him. What was he thinking of, wanting to take her to a Carter club? Maybe he had a death wish or something.

      ‘Ah, don’t be looking at me like that,’ laughed Kieron, steering Annie towards the door. ‘I’ll be good as gold. On my best behaviour. You see if I’m not.’

      Kieron drove and Annie sat silent in the car. She was feeling tense and worried. He seemed twitchy, she thought. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, whistling, sending her little smiles. He seemed very keyed-up.

      ‘Actually I’d rather just go home,’ she said at last.

      Cheerily Kieron patted her knee. Annie pulled away, irritated.

      ‘Ah, come on. A night out’s what you need to cheer you up,’ he told her.

      ‘No it isn’t.’

      ‘Yes it is. The Palermo’s a good club, you’ll love it. Have you been there before?’

      About a lifetime ago, thought Annie. She didn’t particularly want to go there again, cover all that old ground. Especially not with a Delaney. She could almost smell the stench of trouble on Kieron tonight.

      ‘Ah, but I was forgetting,’ said Kieron, slapping his forehead. ‘Of course you’ve been there. And in the Shalimar, I suppose. And the other one, what’s it called …?’

      ‘The Blue Parrot.’

      ‘That’s the feller. Of course you’ve been in his clubs, you were in his bed often enough after all.’

      ‘Just take me home, Kieron,’ said Annie coldly.

      ‘No, the evening’s just beginning,’ said Kieron, sending her another dementedly cheery little smile.

      Fuck it, thought Annie.

      Max was in his office upstairs in the Palermo. Through the floor he could hear Donald Peers warbling away at a song to wring at the hardest heart. But Max wasn’t moved. Nothing much seemed to move him any more. He added up last night’s takings, sipped his whisky, and thought about the bigger stash of money from the department store job, all safely tucked away.

      He was doing plenty of lucrative work with Constantine Barolli’s properties up West now, and he was thinking maybe of going legit. The Old Bill were getting a bit keen lately, and he was sensing a change in the air. But meanwhile there was the money from the heist. He thought of that again, and of where it could take him. Anywhere in the world he wanted.

      But where did he want to go? He’d been thinking about it; every time he drew a blank. Where would Ruthie like to go?

      Now that really did ruin the illusion of paradise. Fucking Ruthie with her drinking and her shrill accusations. What a treat! He’d rather fucking-well stop here than take Ruthie anywhere, the mouthy cow.

      Annie drifted into his mind. Jesus, she was in the shit and no mistake. Running a brothel – oh sorry, judge, a ‘disorderly house’ – and selling liquor without a licence. The Delaneys, of course, had drifted out of the frame and left her to it. So she was going down for a stretch, no doubt about that.

      He thought about Annie, inside. He didn’t like it one little bit. The rough tarts in there would eat her alive.

      There was a knock on the door.

      ‘Come in.’

      ‘Boss?’ One of the boys poked his head in.

      ‘Hm?’

      ‘Thought you ought to know, Boss. Annie Bailey’s just come in with Kieron Delaney.’

      Max sat up straight. He had thought of her and now here she was. With Kieron fucking Delaney.

      ‘Keep an eye on them,’ said Max. ‘I’ll come down.’

      And do what? he wondered as the door closed and he was alone again. Why go down at all? Let them have a drink and a dance, then leave. Why torture himself?

      No good getting older if you didn’t get smarter with it. She was with Delaney, why not leave it at that now? She’d made her choice, he thought bitterly. And it wasn’t him. He took another sip of whisky and went back to looking at the books.

      It was over an hour later when Jimmy Bond knocked and entered.

      ‘That Delaney ponce is causing trouble,’ he said.

      Max sat back and looked at him. ‘Is Jonjo in?’

      ‘Yeah, with a girl. Kieron Delaney’s been cutting in, and Jonjo’s about to blow.’ Jimmy cleared his throat. ‘Annie Bailey’s down there with Delaney.’

      ‘I know.’ He didn’t want Jonjo going off on one in the middle of the club when it was packed with good regular punters.

      ‘Ask Mr Delaney to step into the office, will you, Jimmy? Bring Annie up too.’

      ‘There’s more,’ said Jimmy.

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘Redmond and Orla Delaney have just arrived. They’re asking to see you.’

      ‘Looks like we’ve got us a party,’ said Max.

      ‘You carrying, Max?’

      ‘Is it looking as bad as that?’

      ‘I’m not sure. I’m getting a bad feeling.’

      Max nodded. Jimmy’s ‘feelings’ were not to be ignored. His parents were settled Cockneys but his grandparents had been travellers. Jimmy had gipsy roots. Max didn’t ever discount Jimmy’s ‘bad feelings’. On the night of the robbery, Jimmy had been keeping watch and had ‘felt’ that someone was about. He’d gone to what he believed to be the main door, the one all the staff entered through. The manager had come through the back, surprising them all. But Jimmy’s instinct had been proved sound.

      ‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘You?’

      ‘Packing, yeah. I’ll bring a couple of the boys up too.’

      ‘No. Just you.’

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