Lost Hours

by Alex Walters

  ‘I’m just trying to be practical, Mickey. That’s what you pay me for.’

  ‘I don’t pay you for your bedroom skills, that’s for sure.’ She took a breath and stopped. ‘Sorry, Peter. I’m in a state. It’s not like me. I’ve never faced anything quite like this before. I’m being a bitch.’ She finally gave him a smile. ‘Though I suppose that’s not exactly unprecedented.’

  ‘You’re probably still in shock,’ Hardy said, calmly. ‘It was a hell of a thing to find. That’s why I’m trying to help you. I’ll top you up,’ he went on, gesturing towards her glass. They were sitting by the swimming pool. It was mid-evening, the sun hanging low above the horizon in an otherwise empty sky.

  ‘Okay, but I don’t want to get pissed. I don’t think that would be good at the moment.’

  Hardy picked up the two glasses and headed back into the kitchen. Exactly as Justin had done, Wentworth thought uneasily to herself. For the first time since she’d moved here, she felt vulnerable. Peter was right. Someone had done this for a reason.

  Her security here was as good as it could be. She’d insisted on that when they’d been converting the place. But it was designed to deter opportunistic burglars, not someone who was determined to harm her. For the first time in many years, she was beginning to feel she wasn’t entirely in control of events.

  Hardy returned and placed a full glass of white wine on the table beside her. ‘Do you want something to eat?’

  ‘Maybe later.’ Though she knew she was unlikely to feel hungry any time tonight.

  He sat himself down on the other side of the table, staring out across the landscape. ‘I still can’t believe this has happened.’

  ‘Tell me about it. What did you mean about being careful?’

  ‘Just that if this was targeted at you, you’ve made a pretty bad enemy somewhere.’

  ‘I’ve made enemies,’ Wentworth said. ‘Some of them utter bastards. But I still can’t believe any of them would do something like this.’

  ‘And yet someone did.’

  ‘It just seems unbelievable. This isn’t business.’

  ‘Maybe it’s someone who’s not even on our radar yet. Getting their retaliation in first.’ Earlier in the evening, at Hardy’s instigation, they’d finished compiling a list of individuals who might have reason to harm her. It hadn’t been a long list, but even so she’d felt it was overstated. Most were little more than competitors. In some cases, the individuals in question were undeniably ruthless individuals, but she still couldn’t see them as murderers. But Hardy had apparently promised the police that they’d produce a list of possible suspects, and she’d been happy to go along with the idea.

  ‘What do you mean, someone not on our radar?’ Wentworth asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But if you’re right about our current competition, maybe we’ve provoked someone we don’t even know about yet.’

  ‘With these new contracts, you mean? That’s your baby, Peter. You tell me.’

  ‘I don’t know. But these are big opportunities and they’re bound to take us into unknown territory.’

  ‘But you’ve done all the due diligence? We’re not going into this blind.’

  ‘You know we’ve done everything we can.’

  ‘I’m putting a lot of faith in you on this one, Peter. It’s your idea, your area of expertise.’

  ‘We know who the competition is, and we’ve done all the research possible on them. But it’s impossible to be sure that we’ve identified all the interests that might be involved.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘We always knew there was a risk in stepping outside our comfort zone. We just need to be careful.’

  ‘Look, Peter, it takes a lot to make me throw in the towel, but there are some risks that aren’t worth taking.’

  He held up his hands. ‘Let’s not be hasty. I’m just saying it’s something worth bearing in mind. I might be talking utter bollocks.’

  ‘So who else killed Justin?’ She looked at Peter defiantly, challenging him to give an answer.

  ‘It could be anyone. Maybe some disgruntled nutter who lost his job as a result of one of our contracts. Who knows?’ He paused, then continued speaking in a quieter voice. ‘Anyway, it’s not just that you need to worry about.’

  Wentworth took a sip of her wine. ‘It never is. What else?’

  ‘Whoever was responsible for Justin’s death, it means we’ll have the police sniffing round us for some time to come. Which, frankly, is not something I’m keen on at the best of times. And this is far from the best of times. We’ve got to make sure we appear squeaky clean.’

  ‘You think they’ll start probing into the business?’ Michelle was alert now. ‘Christ, Peter, if they really start digging around in there they could uncover stuff that would destroy me.’

  ‘Mickey, if they don’t get a result quickly, they’ll be looking into everything. I’ve had dealings with them before. Not on anything like this, but even so they can be like a dog with a bone. Just won’t let go until they’ve extracted every ounce of meat. If we get to that point, we need to make sure we’re a step ahead of them.’

  ‘That was why I called you today. You’re supposed to look after this stuff.’

  ‘I know, and it was the right decision. I’ll do some checking in the morning. Make sure there’s nothing that can trip us up. We’re careful with everything, but, yes, there’s stuff buried in there we wouldn’t want the authorities to know about.’ He paused. ‘There’s one other thing.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘This Family Liaison Officer they’re attaching to you. They’ll tell you it’s all for your benefit. That it’s just a mechanism to make sure you have appropriate access to the investigative team. To make sure you’re kept in the loop. All that kind of stuff.’

  ‘That’s more or less what they said, yes.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s all true. But the FLO is also a member of the investigation team. They want to gather evidence from you to help find Justin’s killer. They’ll try to build up a trusting relationship with you.’

  ‘That doesn’t worry me,’ Wentworth said. ‘For Christ’s sake, Peter, I didn’t kill him. They can think what they like.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ Hardy said. ‘The point is that they’ll be looking for you to make a slip. That was one reason I kept harping on them treating you as a suspect earlier, and why I wanted to give them the list of competitors. I’d prefer they were looking in that direction rather than paying too much attention to our business dealings. Sorry if that sounds a bit cold-hearted, but it’s your interests I’m thinking of.’

  ‘I know that, Peter. That’s what I value in you. Your level-headedness, even at a time like this.’ She was conscious her words sounded sarcastic. But maybe that was for the best. She’d always found his judgement invaluable, but there were moments, increasingly so in recent months, when he was in danger of getting too big for his boots. That was one reason she’d given him his head on the new contracts. To see if he could really deliver.

  His expression suggested he’d registered the implied rebuke. ‘All I’m saying is, watch what you say to them. It’s all too easy to get suckered into letting your guard down if you start to trust someone.’

  She gazed at him for a moment before responding. ‘Trust me, Peter. I know that only too well.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘I had a little run-in with one of your colleagues today.’ Sheena was sitting on the patio outside the open kitchen door, supping a gin and tonic and enjoying the last of the day’s hot sunshine, while Annie was inside cooking. At this time of the year, as summer slowly slipped into autumn, their west-facing garden acted as a suntrap in the evenings, having gathered the heat in the course of the afternoon.

  ‘That right? What was that all about?’

  Their evenings had no set routine, not least because when parliament was sitting Sheena spent much of the week in London. For her part, Annie worked late when Sheena was awa
y and usually satisfied herself with not much more than an instant meal from the freezer. But when both of them were around, they tried to make something more of the evening, sharing the cooking and enjoying a glass of wine or two. At present, parliament was in recess for the autumn party conference season, so Sheena was spending some rare extended time in the constituency.

  Annie was preparing pork, aromatic with herbs from their own garden, which she was intending to serve with roast potatoes and a fennel salad. She slid the pork back into the oven, poured herself a glass of red wine and stepped back outside into the sunshine.

  ‘It was this Payne’s affair,’ Sheena said, in response to Annie’s question.

  ‘Payne’s affair?’ Annie seated herself beside Sheena at the garden table. The sun was low now, shining through the trees, dappling the garden around them. After what had happened earlier in the year, she’d wondered whether they would stay here. The place had felt too exposed. The question was still supposedly up in the air – they’d initially postponed a decision until Sheena had fully recovered – but with each week that went by, their presence here felt increasingly re-established. On an evening like this, it was difficult to imagine wanting to be anywhere else. ‘Sorry. Missed that one.’

  ‘Manufacturing company, over near Matlock. They’ve got half their staff on strike. I went to do my bit to support the picket line.’

  ‘Are you still allowed to do that? Thought you were supposed to be all moderate and sensible again these days?’

  ‘You know me. I’ve never been moderate and sensible in my life. Luckily, nobody’s likely to want me in their shadow cabinet, whichever wing of the party they come from. I prefer just being a maverick. Anyway, this one strikes me as a good cause.’

  ‘I’ve not seen much about it on the news.’

  ‘That was one of the reasons I thought it was worth going over there. It’s been under the radar a bit, which is probably how the company prefers it. Thought my presence might help raise the profile.’

  ‘Especially if you got yourself arrested.’

  Sheena grinned. ‘I didn’t get myself arrested. Try to avoid that kind of thing these days. No, some numpty threw a bottle at one of the managers.’

  ‘Not helpful,’ Annie said with a wry expression.

  ‘It was the usual story. Fault on both sides. The manager in question was being an arsehole. Deliberately provocative. Doesn’t justify what happened, but not smart when feelings are running high. Then of course he made a meal of it. Called the police. Even wanted to call an ambulance, though it was only a scratch.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Your lads were very good. Must have calmed the so-called victim down. Came out and dealt well with the crowd, such as it was. None of us had seen who’d actually thrown the bottle – or at least no one was prepared to admit it – and the police obviously realised there was no mileage in pursuing it. But they made it clear it wasn’t acceptable and warned they’d take action if there was further trouble. Just what was needed.’

  ‘They’re usually good at handling that kind of stuff, other than a few trigger-happy smartarses. What’s the strike about?’

  Sheena took another sip of her drink before continuing. ‘It’s a long story, but basically the company’s outsourced its support processes. They promised the employees’ terms and conditions wouldn’t be affected. But the outsourcing firm who took on the contract have played all kinds of tricks, and in the end staff were offered the choice either of redundancy on minimum terms or retention on what amount almost to zero-hours contracts. Most of the employees have only short service, so it’s not much of a choice.’

  ‘Can they get away with this?’

  ‘It’s the usual story. They shouldn’t be able to. But the contract company have got the whole thing down to a fine art. They’ve got the best legal advice to make sure they don’t get caught out. Even the strike seems to have been deliberately provoked. They knew there’d be protests so they’ve done their best to make sure it happened on their terms. The union have done well in combatting the various shenanigans so far, but I suspect they’re on a hiding to nothing.’

  ‘It seems to be the way of the world now,’ Annie said. ‘I must be in one of the few lines of business that still offers a career and a job for life.’

  ‘Too right. It’s short-term contracts and precarious conditions everywhere you look these days. Even academia. If I get ousted from this job – which must be on the cards eventually – I wouldn’t want to go back.’ Sheena had been a lecturer in politics prior to her election as an MP. ‘And it’s going to get worse. Even the legal protections that are still there are gradually being whittled away.’

  ‘And presumably someone’s getting rich out of this?’

  ‘It’s the usual story,’ Sheena said. ‘The rich get richer and the poor get screwed. In the Payne’s case, the original company have been able to boost their balance sheet and profits by hiving off a load of overheads. The result is that people like Michelle Wentworth get to build a new swimming pool.’

  Annie had been sitting with her head tilted back to soak up the sunrays, but she snapped to attention now. ‘Michelle Wentworth? Where does she fit into this?’

  Sheena looked surprised. ‘Wentworth? She owns the contract company. You must have seen her on the news and stuff?’

  Annie and Sheena tended not to discuss the detail of their work with each other, other than elements already well in the public domain, each recognising that the other’s work involved a high level of confidentiality and discretion. ‘I’ve not just seen her on the news. I was interviewing her today. Look, Shee, this hasn’t been released officially yet, but we’re investigating the murder of Wentworth’s son.’

  ‘Jesus. I’d no idea. When did this happen?’

  ‘Earlier today. Brutal killing, too. At Wentworth’s home. At the moment at least, seemingly motiveless.’

  ‘I didn’t even know she was married. She seems the kind who’d put her career first, last and everywhere.’

  ‘I suspect she’s exactly that kind. She’s divorced. Lives alone, apparently, with the son away at university. He was back on summer vacation.’

  ‘I’ve no time at all for Michelle Wentworth,’ Sheena said. ‘But that’s an awful thing to happen to anyone. Unless…’

  ‘Unless she was responsible? It’s possible. In any killing, we look at family members first, but I’m not convinced in this case, particularly given the nature of the killing.’ Though Annie was still wondering if they’d been too quick to assume the murderer was an outsider. Something was definitely off with Michelle Wentworth and her lawyer friend.

  ‘She always struck me as the kind who’d do anything to get her way,’ mused Sheena. ‘Ruthless as they come. But I don’t know if that would extend to killing her own son.’

  ‘On the other hand,’ Annie said, ‘there does seems to be plenty of bad blood among her competitors and some of the people she’s screwed over. I imagine she wouldn’t exactly be on the Christmas card lists of most of the people on your picket line today, for example.’

  ‘Too right,’ Sheena said. ‘Hers was the name that kept coming up, much more than the managers they actually had to deal with. There was some real venom in what people were saying.’

  ‘Any of them likely to be suspects, you reckon?’

  Sheena shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea. I only really spent time with a handful of them. They seemed remarkably upbeat and good-natured in the circumstances, but there were clearly one or two who were angrier. It’s not exactly the basis for murder, though if people are feeling desperate who knows what they might do?’

  ‘You’d be surprised.’ Annie rose from the table. ‘Right. Pork should be about ready. I’ll get it out to rest while I get the salad sorted. Want some wine?’ She nodded to Sheena’s now empty gin and tonic glass.

  Sheena squinted at the almost-setting sun. ‘Think so. I’ve got a bit of paperwork to get out of the way, but a glass of wine normally helps w
ith that.’

  Annie nodded. ‘I’ve got some admin to see to, too. And, yes, the wheels could definitely do with oiling.’

  Chapter Eight

  Roger Pallance stared at his own reflection in the tinted mirrors that lined the interior of the lift. God, he looked tired. He wasn’t used to this kind of play-acting. He just wanted to do his job. He didn’t mind working hard. He didn’t mind working long hours. He didn’t even mind putting up with all the pressures and crap that he had to in this job. That went with the territory, and it was why they paid him what they did.

  What he didn’t want was all the theatricals.

  That was the stuff he found so wearying. Having to go through all that charade with those poor buggers out in the car park. The thing was, at a personal level, he really did feel sorry for them. They’d been well and truly shafted. There was no question about that. But that was business. He’d been shafted himself more than once, and he’d done the same to others. It wasn’t nice, but it’s a ruthless world and you’re either the predator or the prey. Pallance knew which he preferred to be.

  That part of it was fine. What he didn’t like was having to rub their noses in it. But that was Michelle’s style, and no one argued with Michelle. Not if you wanted to have any future in the business, and at the moment Pallance hoped his own prospects were looking bright. He knew he was one of Michelle’s rising stars, and he owed her a lot. When he’d first joined the firm more than ten years before, she’d quickly identified him as someone with potential. He had been rewarded with a series of rapid promotions. Michelle liked to do that if she took a shine to you – ‘growing our own’, as she called it, a way of creating a business that she hoped might outlive her. But Pallance was smart enough to recognise that Michelle’s affections could be fickle, and that not all of her protégés made the grade. If she suddenly decided he wasn’t up to it, even after all these years, he wouldn’t be given a second chance.

  So Pallance was content to do what he was told, however pointless some of it might seem. They didn’t really even need to be coming into this building any more. The majority of the staff – those who weren’t out on the picket line – had already been transferred to other locations. That was part of the strategy – to reconfigure the work and the locations of the staff, supposedly to create a new centralised structure with the aim of improving efficiency or some such bollocks. The real aim was to change the work sufficiently that staff lost the right to transfer under their existing conditions. They either took redundancy or they accepted the new, much less attractive contracts.