“Red.”
A very thin sheen of perspiration had built up on Jones’ forehead. Robbie sensed he knew something.
“You seen it?” asked Robbie.
“No,” replied Jones.
More silence. The screws were tightening.
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d know.”
Robbie leaned back and placed his hands inside his jacket pocket.
“Good.” His mood lightened, even though he figured he was being lied to. “You’ll know when you do. It’s an early eighties model, bruised and battered. The case has a small repair where a music stand made a mess of it.”
Robbie pulled out his wallet and extracted fifty pounds. He put the wallet back inside his jacket. “When you do see it, I’d like to know.”
He held the fifty pounds aloft.
Jones kept his eyes on it.
“And I’d like to be the first to know,” said Robbie, placing the money in Terry’s hand, squeezing it shut, but not too tightly. He didn’t want to frighten the music man. “Before the police do, if you get my drift?”
Jones nodded.
Robbie Carter let go of his hand, leaned back, smiled, collected his wallet and made for the door.
He turned before opening it. “I’ll be seeing you.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Grace waltzed through to the bedroom and switched on her PC. Sitting down she immediately logged in to Findadate.com.
She had seven emails, four winks, and had been favourited by three more men. Out of interest she gave them the once over. Two of them were far too old. She cringed. She couldn’t even if they paid her.
The third was quite interesting: very appealing with his dark brown curly hair and straight white teeth. She glanced quickly at all the icons covering the screen. He’d had 1,331 views. Ten had made him their favourite; twenty had winked at him.
But then came the catch: an icon further down the screen said he was not available, yet the information at the top said he had logged on within the last twenty-four hours.
Grace laughed. What the hell was all that about? Why did they do that? If they’re not available why keep logging on? Why make someone else their favourite? What was it with these people? Dating websites were simply a home for parasites.
Talking of which, Grace opened her emails, immediately locating the one she was after.
Critchley had replied. He was upping the ante, suggesting that they meet. He thought she was very nice, a class above anything else he had seen on the site, and he would really love to meet her for a drink.
Grace laughed out loud. “I bet you do.”
She leaned back in her chair, a smug expression on her face. Grace had worked so hard for so long to trap the bastard. She was so close to achieving her goal but rushing into something would not pay dividends.
She stared hard at the screen, realising that she had him exactly where she wanted him. He thought he was in control.
How wrong he was.
She needed to be patient.