Gareth Dawson Series Box Set

by Nathan Burrows

‘Good stuff,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Dave was saying earlier that Charlotte’s well up for this.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gareth replied with a frown. ‘She’s a strange one, isn’t she?’

  ‘Your boy Dave seems happy enough.’

  ‘It’s an observation, not a criticism,’ Gareth said with a sharp laugh. ‘Her voice does my head in though. I don’t think she’s got an off switch.’

  ‘Thanks for all this, mate,’ Jimmy replied. ‘I do appreciate it.’ Gareth made a sound that was something between a forced sigh and a laugh.

  ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘But let’s see how we get on before we sleep together, yeah? I need a pee. Excuse me for a moment.’ Gareth wandered over to the bathroom and walked into it, lifting the toilet seat before unzipping his fly. He left the door open as he did so. ‘Hey Jimmy?’ he called over his shoulder.

  ‘Yes, mate?’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘Can I have some of these painkillers?’

  ‘You fill your boots, fella,’ Jimmy said with a chuckle.

  Jimmy and Gareth spent the next twenty minutes talking through their plan for the evening. Gareth had thought of one or two refinements to it, all of which Jimmy agreed with. It was risky to an extent, and there was a lot that could go wrong, but hopefully by the end of the evening Jimmy would be a lot closer to the centre of the web that Milly seemed to have been caught up in.

  There was another knock at the door, and Gareth got to his feet to open it.

  ‘Gareth, Jimmy,’ Dave said as he walked into the room, closely followed by an excited-looking Charlotte. The young man put a suit carrier on the bed and threw his laptop case next to it.

  ‘How'd you get on?’ Gareth asked him. Dave was about to reply when Charlotte cut him off.

  ‘We did it, we did it,’ she said, clapping her hands together. This was the first part of their plan. A keystroke logging device on one of the hotel’s computer terminals.

  ‘Hang you on, Charlotte,’ Dave said. Jimmy laughed at hearing the phrase—Dave would never be anything other than a Norfolk boy. ‘We planted it, but I don’t know for sure yet if it’s working.’

  ‘How did you distract the receptionist?’ Gareth asked Dave.

  ‘He didn’t, I did,’ Charlotte replied. ‘She was a right stuck up cow, so she was.’ Jimmy thought back to when he’d checked in earlier. It had been Alaina on the front desk, the same dour-faced woman from his previous visit. ‘I told her I’d been caught a bit short and asked if she had any emergency sanitary products. Once she understood what I was talking about, she couldn’t have been more helpful.’

  ‘That’s brilliant, Charlotte,’ Gareth said with a grin. ‘Lover boy here never would have thought of that.’ Charlotte beamed at him, revelling in the praise.

  ‘Mind you, the thing she gave me is like a bloody nappy. I would have to be desperate and wearing very baggy clothes to actually use it.’

  ‘Thanks for that image, Charlotte,’ Dave said as he unzipped his neoprene laptop case. ‘Let’s see if it’s working, shall we?’

  An hour later, they were almost ready. Jimmy and Dave had both changed. There’d been a lot of nervous jokes about how much Dave looked like an estate agent, with Charlotte trying to defend him. According to Gareth, Dave wearing a suit just made him want to punch him in the face.

  ‘Well, you look the part at least. Very retro,’ Gareth said with a smirk as he looked at Jimmy.

  Jimmy was wearing his best and only suit. Despite the fact that he’d only worn it a handful of times since he’d bought it, it still fit him well. When he’d bought it—at Hannah’s insistence—the style had been the height of fashion. Now, thirty years later, it was again. Jimmy ran his fingers over the lighter in his pocket, remembering a conversation he and Milly had about the suit a few years ago. He’d been trying to make the point that one day the suit would come back into vogue. Milly had responded by saying that it was a fine suit if you were about to be cremated, but it was never going to feature on the front cover of GQ magazine. When a few years later a bearded hipster wearing a very similar suit had appeared on the cover, he’d bought a copy and taken great delight in showing it to Milly.

  The most nervous of them all was Charlotte, although Jimmy could see how hard she was working to hide it. She was in the bathroom, getting changed, and when she stepped back into the room, Jimmy gasped. She looked nothing like she had done when she’d walked in there.

  Charlotte was wearing one of Milly’s dresses from her wardrobe—a slinky black dress that showed off the few curves she had to perfection. A light matching scarf was draped over her shoulders, and her calves were taut and defined from the Jimmy Choo high-heels she was wearing. The whole outfit was perfect.

  ‘Jesus wept, Charlotte,’ Dave whispered. ‘How much are you again for the evening? I’ll pay it, no problem.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake, Dave’ Gareth snapped with a dark look at him. ‘Really?’

  ‘Shit, sorry.’ Dave looked at Jimmy, realising his mistake. ‘I didn’t mean–‘

  ‘Dave, don’t worry,’ Jimmy waved his hand to stop him apologising. ‘You’re right. She’s stunning.’

  ‘Right, we all set?’ Gareth asked. ‘Jimmy, could you run through this bloke’s description again?’ Jimmy reached into his suit pocket for Milly’s phone. He’d texted Gregory earlier on, asking for a description so that “Nikki” didn’t approach the wrong man.

  ‘He’s about five eight, medium build, grey hair,’ Jimmy read from the screen. ‘He’ll be wearing a navy blue suit with a pink shirt.’

  ‘Ouch,’ Gareth grinned. ‘Navy blue and pink? We should be able to spot him a mile off.’

  Jimmy sat in his predetermined position at the end of the hotel bar, a cup of coffee next to him and a copy of the Financial Times spread out in front of him. He could see Dave through the doors to the bar, sitting at a table in the foyer with his phone pressed to his ear. In front of him was his laptop, the screen open. Gareth had been right earlier—the young man looked every inch the estate agent. Tucked into a booth in the rear of the bar was Charlotte, who had arrived a few minutes after Jimmy. The barman had gone over to her when she first sat down, presumably to see if she wanted a drink, but whatever she had said had done the trick as he was now polishing glasses behind the bar. Jimmy glanced at the clock on his phone. It was a couple of minutes before half-past seven.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy saw a man in a navy blue suit walk into the foyer and stand a few feet away from Dave. He looked around for a few seconds before walking toward the doors to the bar and had almost reached them when Gareth appeared from nowhere and bumped into him before apologising profusely. Jimmy watched as the man in the dark blue suit laughed nervously and said something to Gareth. By the time “Gregory” walked into the bar, Gareth had disappeared.

  Jimmy kept his eyes firmly on the newspaper as the man approached. Behind the bar, the barman put his polishing cloth down and walked over to greet him.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ the barman said. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘I’ll have a half a Stella, please.’ Gregory’s voice was so quiet that Jimmy strained to hear him.

  ‘Certainly. Will there be anything else?’ Gregory looked around in Charlotte’s direction.

  ‘I’m meeting someone here. Can you give me a second?’

  Gregory walked over to Charlotte’s booth as the barman started pouring his beer. He returned a few seconds later.

  ‘Large vodka and tonic, please,’ Gregory said. Jimmy hid a smile. Good girl. Sting the man for a drink before we sting him for everything else.

  ‘Would you like that on your room, sir?’

  ‘Yes, please. One oh four.’ Jimmy grimaced. That was a couple of rooms along from the one he’d stayed in the other night. Gregory here obviously preferred to spend his money on things other than decent hotel rooms.

  ‘Could I have your room key, sir?’

  Jimmy glanced at Gregory as the barman asked him this. The other man patted his suit pocket b
efore frowning. He ran his hands over his other pockets before looking at the barman.

  ‘I must have left my wallet in my room. Do I need to get it?’ Jimmy held his breath for a moment, returning his attention to the newspaper. The barman stared at Gregory, no doubt summing up the chances of being scammed. Eventually, Jimmy saw him smile.

  ‘Don’t worry, sir,’ the barman said. ‘That’ll be fine. I’ll just charge it to your room without it.’

  Thanking the barman, Gregory picked up his drinks and walked over to where Charlotte was sitting. As he did so, Jimmy folded his newspaper on the bar and looked in the mirror behind the barman. He had a good view of the booth that Gregory was now sitting in. Gregory had slid in next to Charlotte, briefly running his hand over her arm as he did so. Jimmy had no idea how that must have made Charlotte feel, but it made even him shiver.

  Jimmy pulled his phone out and tapped out a quick text to Dave. Three digits. 104. Through the doors to the bar he saw Dave pick up his phone, glance at it, and without looking away from his laptop give Jimmy a brief thumbs up. His fingers started moving rapidly over the keyboard as Gareth reappeared and sat down next to him.

  They were now in Charlotte’s hands. The next move was hers to make. Jimmy watched her in the mirror. She was talking to Gregory while she sipped at her drink, and Jimmy wondered what they were talking about. What Milly would have been talking about if it was her. As he watched, Charlotte tilted her head back, and he heard her laugh tinkling across the bar. Gregory smiled, pleased that whatever he had said to her had made her laugh.

  Jimmy watched them for a few moments until he noticed that Charlotte had inched her way to the edge of the curved bench that she and Gregory were sitting on. She put one hand on Gregory’s for a few seconds before pushing her clutch bag to the centre of the table. Charlotte stood, her hand still on Gregory’s and pointed at the bag. Smart move, Jimmy thought as he realised she was asking him to mind her bag for her. Without as much a sidelong glance in Jimmy’s direction, Charlotte got to her feet and walked toward the toilets at the rear of the bar. Gregory’s greedy eyes were fixated on her backside as she walked away from the table. As Charlotte disappeared through the door of the ladies, Gregory looked back round and for a split second, his and Jimmy’s eyes met in the mirror.

  ‘Excuse me, mate?’ Jimmy called out to the barman.

  ‘Yes, sir?’ the barman, who was polishing yet another glass, replied.

  ‘Can you tell me where the toilets are, please?’

  As Jimmy had hoped, the barman pointed towards the back of the bar. If Gregory was still looking in his direction, he would see the barman pointing them out to him. Jimmy made a concerted effort not to look in the direction of the main doors to the bar as he got to his feet and started ambling towards the toilets. As he got to within a few feet of the table Gregory was sitting at, he heard Gareth’s voice calling out behind him.

  ‘Hi, sorry to disturb you,’ Gareth said. Jimmy turned round to see him also walking towards Gregory’s table. Gareth was looking at Gregory with a disarming smile, clutching a thick black wallet in his hand. ‘I think you dropped your wallet in the foyer?’

  Jimmy and Gareth reached Gregory’s table within a few seconds of each other. Gregory, who didn’t seem to have registered Jimmy’s presence, was staring at his wallet in Gareth’s hand. He was about to say something when Gareth slipped into the bench seat next to him. Jimmy stepped across and did the same on the other side of the bench. Gregory wasn’t going anywhere.

  ‘Wait, what?’ Gregory said, his voice high pitched. Jimmy could see confusion turning to fear on his face in the space of a few seconds.

  ‘Hi, Simon,’ Gareth said, still smiling.

  ‘My name’s not Simon,’ Gregory replied, his voice trembling. ‘It’s Gregory.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Gareth said as his smile started to fade. ‘You’re Simon Timpson. Did you have a good drive here from Cambridge?’

  Chapter 36

  ‘What’s going on?’ Gregory—now called Simon—exclaimed. He started to get to his feet, but Gareth put a meaty hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down again.

  ‘Stay where you are, Simon,’ Gareth said with just the slightest hint of menace.

  ‘I told you, my name’s not Simon,’ he replied.

  ‘Yes, it is. Your name’s Simon, you live in Trumpington just outside Cambridge, and you’ve driven here hoping to have sex with the young lady you were just talking to.’ Even though the light in the bar wasn’t particularly good, Jimmy saw the colour drain from Simon’s face.

  Jimmy silently blessed Dave, sitting in the foyer on his laptop. The key logger he’d attached to the hotel receptionist’s computer earlier on when she was helping Charlotte with her female emergency was obviously working. The only thing Dave needed to start data mining the hotel’s computer was a room number, which he could use to get a name and a credit card number from the hotel’s computer system. Dave had assured them that with just those bits of information, he could get a lot more. Jimmy was looking forward to finding out just how much information that was.

  ‘Who are you?’ Simon’s eyes darted from Gareth to Jimmy and back again. ‘Are you police?’

  ‘Much worse than that, mate,’ Jimmy said, smiling.

  ‘I’ve been mistaken for many things over the years,’ Gareth added, ‘but never Old Bill. How about you, Jimmy?’

  ‘New one on me, too.’ As he said this, Charlotte was walking back from the ladies' toilet. She stopped by the table and leaned forward at the waist. The black dress fell away from her chest giving all three men an unrestricted view, but Simon was the only one who took the opportunity to look.

  ‘You take a good, long look, fella,’ she said through clenched teeth. Charlotte picked up her clutch bag from the table and stood back up. ‘That’ll be the closest you’ll ever get to these fun bags.’

  As she walked away from the table, swinging her hips with an exaggerated air, Gareth snorted with laughter.

  ‘Did she just say fun bags?’ he asked, looking at Jimmy and winking.

  ‘She did, yeah,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Didn’t she, Simon?’ There was no reply from the man in the middle of the bench. ‘Simon? Don’t be fucking rude. I asked you a question?’

  ‘Yes, she did,’ Simon said in a quiet voice. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Gareth replied. One of his hands waved at the barman, and the other slipped below the table. ‘I’ll have a pint of Stella. How about you, Jimmy?’

  ‘Same for me, please,’ Jimmy replied, starting to enjoy himself. ‘Very kind of you, Simon.’

  Jimmy saw Simon flinch as the barman approached the table and glanced down to see Gareth had his fingers dug into the soft flesh just above Simon’s knee.

  ‘What can I get you, gentlemen?’ the barman asked. Simon flinched again and Jimmy noticed Gareth’s knuckles whitening.

  ‘Two pints of Stella, please,’ Gareth said, ‘and a glass of sparkling mineral water for our friend here. Room 104. Isn’t that right, Simon?’ Simon just nodded his head in response, not even raising his eyes to the barman.

  ‘I’d quite like a packet of dry roasted as well, please?’ Jimmy added.

  ‘Make that two,’ Gareth said. ‘Simon? Any bar snacks for you?’ The only response was a slight shake of Simon’s head.

  When the barman was safely behind the bar and pouring their drinks, Simon finally found his voice.

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ he said, with a hint of defiance. ‘I’ve done nothing illegal or broken the law.’

  ‘We never said you had, Simon,’ Gareth replied, putting both hands on the table in front of him. ‘We just want a chat, that’s all. Hey Jimmy, I’ve got a question for you.’

  ‘Go for it, mate? Ask away,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘What’s in your wallet?’ Jimmy folded his arms across his chest and pretended to think for a few seconds.

  ‘Bankcards, twenty quid in cash maybe. Nectar card. That�
��s about it, I think. How about you?’

  ‘Bit more than twenty quid. But yeah, other than that just bankcards and my driving licence.’ Gareth’s hand disappeared below the table again and Jimmy realised the barman was approaching with a tray. They sat in silence as he placed their drinks on the table, and two small dishes full of peanuts. When he had finished, the barman stood in front of them for a few seconds.

  ‘Give the man a tip, Simon,’ Gareth said as he reached for one of the bowls with his free hand. ‘Don’t be stingy.’ With a resigned sigh, Simon replied.

  ‘Add a tenner to whatever that lot came to.’

  ‘Very kind of you, sir.’ The barman beamed at Simon, but he didn’t return the gesture. ‘Thank you very much.’

  Once the barman was out of earshot, Gareth picked up his pint and sat back on the bench.

  ‘Let’s get down to business, shall we? What’s in your wallet, Simon?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to know what’s in your wallet.’

  ‘Cash and my keycard.’

  ‘No personal effects? No bankcards? Driving licence? Not even a supermarket loyalty card?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s unusual. How much cash?’

  ‘A grand.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Jimmy chipped in, sipping at his own pint. ‘That’s a lot of money. Those fun bags were nice, but that’s a lot of cash for a bit of a play with them.’

  ‘I told you, I’ve done nothing illegal.’

  ‘Mrs Timpson might not be so sanguine about your position, though?’

  ‘There is no Mrs Timpson,’ Simon replied.

  ‘Yes there is,’ Gareth said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He prodded at the screen and a photograph of a middle-aged woman appeared. He showed the phone to Jimmy. ‘There she is, standing outside number forty-three Highcliffe Gardens. Quite the looker, isn’t she?’

  ‘What a pretty lady,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Who’s that in the background?’ He pointed at the screen.

  ‘That must be either Amelia or Elizabeth. They’re twins. Are they still teenagers, Simon, or are they now out of their teens?’