Cat Flap

by Ian Jarvis

  Sipping coffee, his wife stared through the French doors at the eerie beauty of the fog drifting over the terrace. The winters were mellower here than in the Carpathian mountains and Marika loved the crisp mornings of frosted cobwebs. The young girl was a believer in fate and destiny. Fate had certainly played a part in Rupert choosing Romania for his hunting break last May and booking the Bucharest hotel where she worked as receptionist. Toying with marriage for some time, he’d been considering a Thai wife, but he’d changed his mind on discovering East European girls. Marika weighed up his surprising proposal, decided in six seconds flat, and packed her bags for a new life as lady of the manor. The girl was jolted from her thoughts by her husband’s hearty voice.

  ‘How are we this morning?’

  ‘There you are.’ Marika beamed as Rex strolled in clad in a black tracksuit. ‘How nice to see you at last.’

  ‘And you.’ He grinned and kissed her. ‘You were out on Tuesday when I arrived and again last night.’

  ‘Are you staying until Christmas?’

  ‘Just a few days, if that’s okay? I have to see Dad on Christmas Eve.’

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear about the Marines.’ Marika’s husky Romanian accent set the heart thumping and could make condemned offal sound sensual. ‘Rupert tells me the recruitment officer was mentally ill. It’s shocking, isn’t it?’

  ‘Er, quite.’ Rex flopped onto a Chesterfield. ‘I’ll be sending a stiff letter to the relevant officials.’

  ‘Have you been running?’ Rupert eyed the tracksuit with the sort of revulsion evangelists reserve for anal sex.

  ‘No, just going through a few katras on the lawn.’

  ‘In the snow and fog?’ Marika poured coffee. ‘Which martial art do you practise?’

  ‘Kung Fu. I have a private tutor in Tooting - a Tibetan monk.’ He took Marika’s offered mug. ‘Training with Frank is expensive, but he says I’ve pretty much reached Bruce Lee’s standard.’

  ‘Barrymore took a call while you were out.’ Rupert held up a sheet from the butler’s notepad. ‘Someone named Quist said it was a shame about the weather and best if you didn’t try driving to the York party. He’ll ring later and let you know if he’s discovered anything.’

  ‘Will he really?’ said Rex, fuming. Like Quist, he knew about Selden’s death from the news. He’d had to virtually beg this private eye to let him help with the investigation and now the big-nosed old fart was trying to dump him. Well he could forget that idea. ‘Nice of him to be concerned,’ he growled, ‘but the snow isn’t too bad and as soon as this icy fog thins out, I’ll be heading over there.’

  ‘How did yesterday go?’ asked Rupert. ‘What on earth did you do in the countryside without a gun?’

  ‘This and that.’ Rex sipped his coffee. ‘I bumped into a girl actually.’

  ‘Not a rambler?’ Rupert wrinkled his nose. ‘Those idiots who protest about keeping footpaths open? Waste of a good white skin.’

  ‘No, I met her in York, not Lamberley.’

  ‘Lamberley?’ echoed Marika. ‘Is that where you went? The place where Raoul’s ex-fiancé was killed?’

  Rex nodded. ‘Did you ever meet Lisa?’

  ‘Yes, a few times. I liked her, but she never really got on with Rupert.’

  There’s a surprise, reflected Rex, taking out a cigarette. He shuddered at the thought of Lisa discussing conservation with a man who complained in restaurants that the veal didn’t taste young enough.

  ‘So terrible,’ muttered Marika. ‘I rang Raoul to say how sorry we were. How’s he taking it?’

  Rex reached for the coffee table lighter. ‘Well, you can imagine...’ He froze as the girl gasped with horror and snatched his wrist to inspect his palm. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded anxiously.

  ‘Oh... nothing.’ She released him. ‘For a moment, I was sure I saw... I’m sorry. Forget it.’

  ‘You scared the hell out of me,’ chuckled Rupert. ‘You leapt up like a hunt saboteur when they get a bullet in the leg. What was it?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She gave an embarrassed titter. ‘Sorry, Rex; I’m seeing things. You must think I’m crazy.’

  ‘Er, no.’ Rex checked his palm. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘How about more coffee?’ proposed Rupert. ‘Come on, Darling. You’re closest to the pot. Six sugars in mine.’

  Rex studied Marika as she filled the cup. Her relaxed manner had disappeared. She looked paler and her smile seemed forced. Hah - women! He dismissed his thoughts. It was probably that time of the month.

  Chapter 33

  Creeping out of Gillette’s office, Amy gently closed the door.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  The doctor whipped around, sighing to see Nicole Patterson at the water dispenser. The secretary was only a temp and unacquainted with office protocol, especially the rules on never entering the research director’s office in his absence. Thank God it wasn’t Doctor Keating. The assistant director was the last person she wanted to run into here.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she lied, her heart-rate slowing. ‘I was just dropping off some paperwork for Will. You scared the hell out of me. I’ve been jumpy ever since the police started this surveillance business.’

  ‘I can’t blame you.’ Nicole sipped her water and pointed down the corridor. ‘But you should be okay with the new doctors protecting you.’

  Thirty feet away, a gorilla in a white coat pretended to use the photocopier whilst watching the girls. Thanks to his size, broken nose and 9mm armpit bulge, he looked more suited to snapping legs than handling test tubes.

  ‘Yeah.’ Amy headed the opposite way towards reception. ‘Certainly blends in, doesn’t he? The other undercover policeman is even bigger.’

  ‘Where are you working today?’ Nicole followed. ‘I understand they’ve temporarily closed South Lab.’

  ‘I’ve moved to East lab, along with Doctor Sherman back there and Doctor Cromwell.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’re here at all. If I was in your place, I’d be taking a month off with stress.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ Amy reached the lobby and peered through the glass doors into the mist. ‘But the police don’t want me to change routines.’ Lynn Chandler wasn’t behind the reception desk. This would be the ideal time to do this.

  ‘They think this murderer might go for you next?’ The secretary shook her head in horror. ‘That’s awful. Hey, what are you looking for?’

  ‘I’m just checking the police car is there.’

  ‘Gary Mitchell? Don’t worry. It’s hard to see him in this fog, but his Honda is near the steps. Donna from the canteen keeps taking tea and biscuits to him, along with her number and obscene suggestions.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Listen, I’m keeping you from your work and...’

  ‘Not at all. With Will not here, I don’t have much to do.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I do. I’ll see you later, Nicole.’

  ‘Take care.’ The secretary headed back towards the administration area. ‘You’ll be okay, I’m sure.’

  Amy set off for the labs, counted five seconds, and quickly retraced her steps to the lobby. The receptionist was still absent, and slipping through the door, she avoided Mitchell’s unmarked police car and darted across the misty tarmac to a waiting Volkswagen.

  ‘Hello again.’ Watson leant through the passenger window. ‘Hey, this is like a spy film, where agents meet and...’

  ‘Yes,’ broke in Quist, testily. ‘I’m so glad to see you’re okay. I really can’t thank you enough for agreeing to this.’

  ‘I still can’t believe I did agree,’ whispered Amy, ‘but I’m afraid there isn’t much to thank me for. I don’t have any print-outs for you because the data on the Solstice and the eye droplets that you’re suspicious about has been erased.’

  ‘Re
ally?’ Quist raised an eyebrow. ‘Intriguing.’

  ‘Would you have understood what you were looking at?’ asked Watson. ‘You’re no chemist, Guv.’

  ‘I’ve dabbled in many things over the years.’ The detective took a plastic bag from his pocket and shoved it in the glove compartment. ‘That’s a tub of the original Solstice sunblock. I bought it at a chemist this morning.’

  ‘Ah!’ Watson nodded. ‘If Amy could have printed that data, you were going to compare ingredients with the new experimental version?’

  ‘Correct.’ Quist shot the girl a warm, lopsided grin. ‘I’m glad you trusted me.’

  ‘Yes, I do trust you.’ Amy studied him, chewing nervously at her lip. ‘I don’t know why, but I do. I can’t tell you where they were sent for testing either. He’s wiped all the information and shredded the paperwork from his desk.’

  ‘Has he indeed?’

  ‘The weird thing is, nothing else has been erased; all the other cancelled products are still on the computer.’ She turned back to the lab. ‘I have to hurry before they notice I’m missing. They’ll wonder why I’m out here, supposedly under protection, yet alone in a foggy car park.’

  ‘This mist is dissipating,’ said Quist. ‘They’ll be able to see you soon. I’ll ring you tonight when you get home to talk further.’

  ‘Actually I’m leaving as soon as you’ve gone. They said to continue as normal, but after Will didn’t show up, and then after accessing his computer...’

  ‘You’ve had enough stress for one day.’ Quist nodded. ‘Yes, the best thing for you is to relax with your policewoman nanny.’

  Amy glanced into the rear of his car, her eyes widening.

  Quist turned, scowling at the figurine on the rear seat. ‘A flashing garden gnome,’ he muttered. ‘What does your mother think I want with that?’

  ‘You must have impressed her,’ said Watson. ‘She never gives them away. It’s a wooden original, not mass-production resin, so make sure you paint it. You don’t want it rotting, do you?’

  ‘Heaven forbid!’

  ‘I just wish this had been worth it,’ said Amy, cringing. ‘All that risk for nothing.’

  ‘Hardly nothing,’ corrected Quist. ‘His erasing everything tells me a great deal.’

  Chapter 34

  ‘The police are going,’ said Strand, tapping his driver’s broad shoulder.

  ‘Okay.’ Fisher waited until the patrol car left Gillette’s house before pulling across the misty Fulford street and parking the Mercedes van outside. ‘Do you want us to...’

  ‘I want you to wait here.’ Strand adjusted his sunglasses and opened the door. The fog was clearing, but icy patches remained and he checked that no one was watching. ‘All of you stay here. There are a few more questions I need to ask.’

  ‘But, Sir...’ began Hinds.

  ‘Wait here and don’t move.’

  Slipping down the side of the house, Strand found the drapes closed and the kitchen door locked. He rang the bell, waited a while, and then punched through the glazed panel to reach the key. ‘Hello, Will?’ The key was missing and, withdrawing his arm, he shouldered the door from the frame. ‘Hello? Is there a doctor in the house?’

  Gillette stood by the lounge fireplace clenching a glass. He trembled uncontrollably, eyes bulging behind his large spectacles.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ said Strand, strolling in. ‘I’m afraid that door will need a little attention. I did ring, but there was no reply.’

  Gillette swallowed dryly. The ice in his whisky tinkled franticly.

  ‘Tell me, Will, what were the police doing here?’

  ‘They were checking on me.’ The doctor’s voice was a strangled croak. ‘The laboratory staff were worried and called them when I didn’t show this morning.’

  ‘Oh dear! Are you sick? The curtains are drawn and that bottle on the bureau is almost empty. It was full last night; I notice little things like that. Why haven’t you been to work?’

  ‘Why? Can’t you guess?’ Gulping from his glass, Gillette laughed hysterically. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘Scared? You look terrified. I’m somewhat familiar with the look of terror.’

  ‘Officially, I’m sick with stress and that isn’t far from the truth. I told you the staff were suspicious over the chemicals, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I take it those girls were murdered on your orders?’

  ‘I’m afraid it was necessary.’

  ‘But they knew nothing. Now we have police watching the place and asking questions. They’re going through the records and searching for Stapleton. The only member of the research team you haven’t killed has officers protecting her night and day.’

  ‘Just as I hoped.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Gillette crumpled into a chair. ‘This project needs absolute secrecy and all you’ve achieved by these pointless murders is to fill the news with Ebor Pharmaceuticals and bring us all under police scrutiny.’

  ‘Exactly, but I’ve achieved rather more than that. There’s a little more to this operation than you suspect, Will. Believe me, everything is proceeding to plan.’

  ‘What?’ Gillette let out a staccato laugh. ‘I don’t know where I am. I have to tell you one thing, Silva another when he rings, and the police something else. Silva knows Stapleton has vanished, but he still believes I’m working on the eye droplets with no success.’

  ‘Excellent!’

  ‘Excellent?’ He gulped again at the whisky. ‘I don’t know how I got through yesterday without cracking up - questions all afternoon, and then you turning up with those monsters. I’m sure the police know I’m lying about Stapleton being in Canada.’

  ‘They know nothing about the... project?’

  ‘Well of course not. If I told them anything, they’d put me in a madhouse. As soon as that money transfer goes through to the offshore bank, I’m out of the country and away from all this.’ The doctor wiped a hand over his face and shook off the sweat. ‘Everything has been destroyed apart from the data disc and Stapleton has that. I couldn’t tell you anything last night; you said they were Silva’s guards.’

  ‘Yes, part of his personal protection team. I left them outside today so we could talk.’

  ‘So what now?’ Gillette stood up unsteadily and reached for the whisky. ‘The police think I’m ill and that Stapleton’s skiing in Canada. Anyway, they’re the least of my problems. I’m supposed to be working for Silva and he’ll want to know what’s going on.’

  ‘The least of your problems?’ Strand removed his sunglasses, his green eyes flaring. ‘Actually you’re problems are over. Face the fireplace.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do as you’re told.’ He locked his gaze upon Gillette. ‘Turn around!’

  The research director stiffened and shuffled to face the mantelpiece.

  ‘No more problems, Will.’ He reached over Gillette’s shoulder to grip his chin. ‘Silva won’t bother you anymore.’

  The doctor heard the snap and looked into Strand’s blurred face - his head had been twisted around so sharply that his spectacles had flown across the room. Frowning, he raised a curious eyebrow and looked down at his own buttocks.

  ‘Thanks.’ Strand dropped the corpse and replaced his sunglasses. ‘Working together was fun.’

  Fisher revved the engine as his superior walked back down the drive.

  ‘My suspicions were right.’ Strand climbed into the van. ‘Gillette was withholding something yesterday. He gave me two addresses where we might find Stapleton.’

  Fisher eyed the dashboard clock and gave the other bodyguards an uneasy glance. ‘What about the hospital, Sir?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you think we should be heading for the hospital first?’

  ‘Yes, we’ll visit the hospital.’ Strand checked his
phone for messages. ‘Mmmh, but not just yet.’

  Chapter 35

  The light covering of snow had gone, leaving the Clifton streets wet and glistening. Quist had been right; you didn’t need the house number to find a drunken gathering of bikers. You didn’t really need the name of the street. The town would probably suffice. Watson heard the shouting, revving engines and rock music long before the Beetle entered Minster Avenue.

  ‘Hey, there’s a Harley.’ The teenager pointed to an American bike amongst the cycles outside the house. ‘Hello? Watson to Quist. Harley-Davidson dead ahead. Are you receiving? Over?’

  ‘Yes, I heard you.’ The detective stroked thoughtfully at his nose. ‘Sorry, but I was thinking about the lab and that sunscreen.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d think about driving past this place?’

  ‘I need to see these bikers and figure out where they fit into this.’ He parked the car. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Oh absolutely.’ People had shown more enthusiasm walking to the electric chair.

  Watson had never been keen on hell’s angels and gate-crashing one of their get-togethers wasn’t his idea of sanity. He’d seen Quist handle himself, but there had been four opponents in the Squinting Ferret. With fifty, it might be different. The apprehension was justified. Six bikers were throwing Bowie knives at a treetop sex-doll in the garden and it wouldn’t take them long to work out that screaming, running targets were more fun. They paused to glare at the Beetle in the same way the disciples might have glared, had Judas turned up drunk at a reunion asking if anyone fancied a kiss.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ said Quist, climbing out. ‘Eddie of the York Cannibals told us about your party.’

  An enormous character cracked his knuckles and headed their way, his expression similar to that which police dogs adopt when trainers pull on padded arm-protectors. Watson groaned. This was probably the chapter’s Sergeant-at-Arms. Chosen for their size and psychopathic natures, these gentlemen sort out trouble, or occasionally black kids and well-spoken strangers with big noses.