The Sugared Game - K.J. Charles Page 0,12
had lurking?”
“My man, of course. Peacock. You haven’t met him, I think? Very discreet. He, ah, lurked in the kitchen and, may I say, finished my Times crossword while he waited, piling humiliation on top of embarrassment.”
“Good,” Will said. “I hope you never get a seven across again. Arsehole.”
Kim grinned at him. He looked entirely as if they were playing a game and he was enjoying it, and the damn fool thing was that Will felt that way too. Of course Kim would turn up after two months with some bizarre story; of course he wouldn’t tell it like a normal person. He was up to something, and he’d come round here to be up to it. A prickle of interesting possibilities ran up Will’s spine.
He pulled himself together. “So you paid this toe rag because...?”
“I wanted to find out what would happen next. It seemed to me that my little blackmailer might provide a useful lead, so I gave him a tenner and had Peacock follow him when he left.”
“And? Where did he go?”
“The High-Low Club on Maddox Street.”
“You’re joking. I was just there the...other...” Will sat up straight, his absurd enjoyment evaporating like spit on a stove. “Did you know that? You knew that, didn’t you? Is that why you’re here?”
“You were indeed there, with Maisie,” Kim said calmly. “And then today you met one of the waiters for dinner. I wondered why.”
Will didn’t realise he’d propelled himself off the bed until his stockinged feet hit the floor. “What the fuck does that mean? Are you accusing me of something? What the hell?” He was staggeringly hurt, he realised, somewhere under the anger, horrified and appalled that Kim might be regarding him as the enemy.
Kim wasn’t, though. Rather, he was rolling his eyes as though Will was the unreasonable one. “I’m not accusing you of anything, you idiot. The very opposite. Apart from anything else, if you wanted to hurt me, I have absolute faith you’d do it yourself and in person.”
That was a very Kim sort of compliment, but it did smooth Will’s ruffled feathers a little. “I do want to hurt you. Frequently. Damned if I know why I haven’t.”
“Your restraint is astonishing. Sit down, for heaven’s sake. I have not been spying on you, but I have been keeping an eye on the High-Low for my own reasons. Imagine my delight when you turned up.”
He said that with his usual light irony. Will had no idea how to take it. He glowered, as an all-purpose response. “What reasons?”
“What did you think of the High-Low?”
“Good band. Overpriced drinks. The manager and her second in command are a right nasty pair, they have gangs in, and there’s a regular dope dealer on the top balcony.”
“An excellent summary,” Kim said. “It’s a very dubious proposition indeed and I need to find a trustworthy inside man, which brings me here. How do you know the waiter? Or are you getting to know him?” He raised a suggestive brow.
Will returned a deeply unfriendly look. “I served with him, since you ask. Lieutenant Beaumont. I met him the other night when I took Maisie there, and we had dinner tonight to catch up.”
“I see. How was it?”
Will shrugged. “Awkward. You know.” Of course Kim didn’t know; he hadn’t served. “He’s changed a lot since Flanders, but haven’t we all.”
Kim nodded. “What are his circumstances? I assume he isn’t well off, if he’s waiting on tables. Is he in need of money?”
“I am not putting you in touch with Beaumont so you can bribe him,” Will said flatly. “We might not be bosom friends but he doesn’t deserve that.”
“Throw a dog a bone. I’ve got to get into this blasted place.”
“Why? What is it exactly that you’re after? What’s this job you have on?”
Kim contemplated him for a long moment, as if weighing something up. At last he said, “How did you come to visit the High-Low? Were you invited? An advertisement, a recommendation?”
“Maisie picked it.”
“And you didn’t know this waiter chap worked there?”
“Of course not. I haven’t thought of him since 1918.”
“Was he surprised to see you?”
“Almost dropped his tray. Mind you, that was because I’d bumped into him. Are you trying to get at something? I went to this place because I’d promised to take Maisie dancing and she named it. Do I need more reason than that?”
Kim sighed. “Fate, then. Our wills and fates do so contrary run, and you are the most contrary of Wills.”
“What?”
“The High-Low,” Kim said,