She resisted the urge to feel cheated, even though during her last encounter with the lady and her observations, she had sensed there was more behind Leanora’s dreary exterior than first appeared. She should feel pleased about her intuition, but she knew of old that if the police — and especially Special Branch — were involved, she would be out. There was no place in high-scale investigations for a one-woman operation.
‘Tea?’ the major reminded her. ‘My treat, of course.’
‘I should bloody well think so,’ she said grudgingly, and then she smiled. ‘Sorry. Tea would be lovely. I couldn’t face any more small-talk back there.’
‘No more could I. And I found out what I wanted to know.’
‘And what was that?’ she said casually, as she started up the engine and swished the windscreen wipers across the window to clear away the last traces of rain.
The major laughed. ‘Unsubtle, my dear Miss Best. But we’ll compare notes over tea.’
And you’ll tell me just how much you want me to know, and no more, you old bugger, thought Alex. Well, two could play at that game. She tried the shock treatment.
‘Are you convinced they’ve got the real killer?’
‘Aren’t you?’ he said, too quickly.
‘I asked first.’
‘Is that why you’re here?’
‘I’m here because Moira invited me on her own account. We — uh — happened to meet socially, and then I discovered her connection with Leanora—’
‘And that has whiskers on it, Miss Best — or may I call you Alex?’ the major said easily. ‘And the name’s Harry. We don’t need to be so formal, do we?’
She glared at him. She knew that technique. Taking her off guard, pretending an easy friendship, and then tossing in an artless question to get at the truth. She’d known DI Nick Frobisher far too long not to recognize it. But she believed in the direct approach.
‘So why are you here if not because there’s some doubt about Leanora’s murderer?’
‘I didn’t say that. You’re the one who seemed to question the identity of the murderer.’
She wasn’t sure that she had, except by implication. But these clever devils instantly seized on the slightest bit of ambiguity in a remark.
‘Watch out for the one-way system when you get nearer the sea-front,’ the major said suddenly. ‘There’s some parking in Montague Street and we can walk to Marine Parade from there. We can take a look at Madame Leanora’s premises in one of the side-streets on the way if you haven’t seen it already.’
It was a job for Alex to stop her jaw from dropping again. He obviously knew the town and where Leanora operated. Damn the man. She began to feel cheated again. This was her case, and already she felt it slipping away from her.
‘I haven’t, and I’m not sure I want to,’ she muttered, knowing that of course she damn well did. It was on the plans. But in her own time. And not with him.
He laughed out loud, reverting at once to the buffoon she had met on the cruise.
‘Course you do, sweetheart. Pretty little thing like you must be just dying to know what fate’s got in store for you!’
‘Well, Leanora’s not there to tell me, is she? And I thought I already knew my fate — until you popped up again, like the proverbial bad penny.’
And if this was no way to speak to what was it? — an investigating officer in Special Branch — then she didn’t care. She thought he was a bit over the hill for that job, after a full army career, but presumably he was good at what he did. But she hadn’t asked for his company, and didn’t see the need to be any more forthcoming than she chose to be.
‘All right, cards on the table over tea,’ he said, more soberly. ‘And no pun intended. Let’s leave all that to the sharks and charlatans that prey on gullible folk.’
Alex followed his instructions then and negotiated the narrow streets until she reached the car park at the wider Montague Street. She got out of the car, breathing in the clean salt air, the streets washed and freshened after the recent rain, a watery sun beginning to brighten the sky.
‘Moira was very convincing about her mother,’ she said as they walked. ‘She swore she was a genuine clairvoyant.’
‘No doubt, as far as the trade goes.’ He gave it no more status than a street vendor on a Saturday morning stall.
‘You’re not a believer then?’
He snorted. ‘It doesn’t go with the job.’
‘You can never quite dismiss it though, can you? I mean, there are people who see things that others don’t—’
‘And I thought you had brains as well as beauty,’ he scoffed, his eyes boldly lingering over her figure, the old lech. She didn’t rise to the bait.
‘I do. But I’m willing to give genuine people the benefit of the doubt,’ she said, nettled.
And she was even more annoyed at sounding so defensive, because she seemed to be siding with those loonies at the funeral, rather than going along with her feet-on-the-ground instincts. But that was the danger. They swept you along with their beliefs, until you were engulfed in them before you knew it. That was where they scored over the vulnerable.
‘Anyway, you can’t deny that the police occasionally consult mediums,’ she added triumphantly. ‘So there must be something in it.’
‘Especially when they’re making a nice little income in certain sidelines,’ Harry said, motioning her to turn down a side-street now.
‘How? Selling crystals and charms and all that rot?’
She realized he had stopped walking, and that they were outside a small shop premises with the name Madame Leanora over the door. An elegant sign boldly advertised clairvoyance and discreet readings, with tarot cards a speciality. The darkened glass on the shop window displayed nothing at all. The whole facade was presumably meant to create an aura of mystery, but to Alex it was gloomy and a bit unnerving, and she heartily wished she’d never met the woman.
‘Don’t you want to see inside?’ Harry asked softly, his voice quietly goading her, challenging her.
‘What? We can’t — I mean it’s closed. We can’t just break into the premises, and if I wanted to see inside, I’m sure Moira would arrange it—’ she hedged.
And now that she was here, she didn’t really want to go inside at all. Not — one — tiny — cotton-picking bit…
She heard the echo of her one-time lover’s voice in her head. Are you sure you’re in the right business, Alex?
No, Gary, she wasn’t. Not this kind of business, anyway. She could deal with clients who retained her to investigate income-tax fraud. She was prepared to do a stakeout surveillance for as long as required for a straying husband or wife. She was capable of tracking down missing funds or teenagers on the run though she didn’t care for that much.
Straightforward crimes of the minor variety were one thing but this was something else. This was venturing into areas she didn’t like and didn’t want. And damn it, she was only hired to find out who was stalking Moira — and had apparently been stalking Leanora too. She had almost lost sight of the reason Moira had contacted her, and she wasn’t damn well going to be side-tracked any longer.
‘I wasn’t suggesting that we break in, sweetie,’ the major said calmly now. ‘It’s all legit, naturally. Official business and all that. Moira gave me a key.’
Well, presumably this had been done beforehand, since Alex wasn’t aware that he had even been speaking to Moira at the funeral. But then, with so many people around, it wouldn’t have surprised her if half of them had been complete strangers. Filled with morbid curiosity perhaps, to see this spectacle for a woman whom many people would have feared. Anyone who dabbled in the occult or the afterlife was greeted with suspicion bordering on fear by most folk.
But she was probably demeaning all the genuine mediums and clairvoyants, and she had no real reason to think that Leanora wasn’t one of them. Nor did she have any option but to go inside Leanora’s premises right now unless she wanted to look like a bloody nitwit who
didn’t deserve the title of private eye at all. She took a deep breath. Wasn’t this what she was here for? And hadn’t she been born curious?
‘So what are we waiting for?’ she said.
‘That’s my girl,’ Harry crowed, squeezing her arm and making her cringe at such chauvinistic praise.
She still found it hard to get used to the fact that he was not what she had thought he was. A bragging bore, sizing up the most likely females on the cruise, and chatting up every one of them whenever he got them cornered. Definitely not of the sober, elderly Special Branch ilk.
And she should have asked to see his identification. It was the first thing to get clarified if ever there was any doubt. But why should there be? She had taken him on face value, simply because his attitude had changed, and he now seemed to be exactly who he said he was.
Bad move, Alex, she told herself, seeking anything to take her mind off the jitters she felt as they went inside the dim interior of Madame Leanora’s premises.
‘Christ Almighty, did somebody die in here?’ she heard her companion say tightly, and her heart leapt.
‘You know somebody did,’ she stuttered. ‘Leanora did.’
‘Sorry, girl. I was forgetting. It’s this bloody incense or joss-sticks or whatever the hell it is!’ he snapped. ‘I’ve seen most things, but I never could stand all this hocus-pocus. Turns my guts. Where’s the bloody light switch?’
He seemed to have reverted again, Alex thought. He was a chameleon, and he seemed almost as jittery as she was now. She registered the fact briefly, and then felt a flood of relief as the light came on, and the room was bathed in a red glow. And at once it became a normal room — if normal was the word to use for such an exotic interior.
‘My God, you’d never have associated the old girl on the ship with all this crap, would you?’ the major said.
Alex was hardly listening. She was thankful for having a photographic memory as she took in the atmosphere. It was the kind of place beloved by movies, where they exaggerated the set-up for maximum effect. But now it seemed that clairvoyants — this one at least — really did decorate their premises in the most exotic way imaginable.
Deep red drapes everywhere added to the suffocatingly aromatic ambience. The small circular table was covered in a black, bobble-edged chenille cloth that seemed of another era. A crystal ball had pride of place in its centre, and the shelves were stacked with crystals and baubles, books of magic, about ESP, the tarot, and the occult.
It seemed almost impossible to identify that dun-coloured woman Alex had met with all this... but then she remembered her evening attire... the feathered boa and dated cocktail dress, and the keen-eyed gaze she had locked onto Alex when she had warned her of a death... and she knew that in this stifling atmosphere anyone could believe anything…
‘What are we supposed to be looking for?’ she said in a cracked voice, seeing the major poking around on the shelves, opening book covers and flicking open a pack of tarot cards and scattering them on the floor with apparent disdain.
Alex picked them up resentfully, replacing them in their cardboard box with a shudder as she glimpsed the cards depicting the Hangman and the Fool. Such things had always unnerved her. How the hell could anyone prophesy anything from a pack of cards that some said were works of the devil and akin to Satanism?
‘Anything that will give us an inkling into her dealings,’ he said briskly in answer to her question.
‘Just what were these dealings you’re so interested in? Cards on the table, remember, Major?’
She tried to be jocular, but for the life of her, she couldn’t call him Harry. He’d been the bombastic major on the cruise ship. She hadn’t liked him then, and she didn’t like him now. Nothing had changed that.
‘Blackmail, Miss Best.’
And what had happened to Alex? It seemed as if he too, had decided to keep their relationship on a more formal footing. Thank God.
‘Blackmail? That sweet little old lady?’
He laughed. ‘Now who’s kidding who? You never thought of her as a sweet little old lady any more than I did!’
‘I certainly never thought of her as a blackmailer!’
‘People are rarely what they seem. You should know that in your business. In our business.’
She spoke as lightly as possible, considering that her heart was starting to beat sickeningly fast.
‘How odd. That’s just what I’m always telling myself. So tell me, which one of your personas really applies to you, Major? Are you the wicked flirt I met on the cruise, or the man from Special Branch? I should have asked to see your ID. Remiss of me, wasn’t it? And you should have reminded me!’
She felt a chill run through her even as she said the jerky words. Nick Frobisher would have flashed his card at her at once. So would Scott Nelson. So would any real copper.
She heard him give a low laugh. ‘Are you saying that you’re prepared to believe in this old biddy’s arty-farty stuff, and yet you’re doubting my credentials?’
‘I’d like to see your ID before I answer that,’ Alex said steadily. ‘And then I’d like to get out of here and have some tea like you promised me,’ she added, to allay his suspicions.
Just in case he wasn’t who he said he was.
And preferably in some nice, normal, seaside teashop, where the only aromas were of freshly baked cakes and steaming tea and coffee, and the plaintive cry of the seagulls would overcome the pounding of her heart.
‘Of course,’ the major said smoothly, his hand moving towards his inside pocket.
For a moment. Alex froze. Was he about to pull out a gun and murder her here and now? Or more likely a knife, since this was the place for a stabbing, she thought wildly, remembering Leanora’s fate. And did your whole life really flash before your eyes in such a moment? Hers hadn’t — yet.
In those few seconds she was completely disorientated, and then she heard a loud hammering, and hardly knew whether it was her thudding heart or the blessed sound of someone coming to rescue her.
‘Is everything all right in there?’ she heard a male voice say uncertainly, and she twisted around to face the young copper standing in the doorway. He was silhouetted, dark against the sunlight now that the rain clouds had cleared, but her relief was so great that if he had been the Grim Reaper himself, she could have kissed him.
The major pushed past her, almost knocking the young copper over, and brushing himself down as if to be rid of the remnants of the dusty interior.
‘Everything’s fine here, Constable. My ID card — Special Branch,’ he said, thrusting it under the startled young man’s eyes. ‘Miss Best and I have permission to be here today, and were about to lock the place up again. But you’re to be commended for your alertness. Full marks.’
‘Thank you, Sir,’ the copper, little more than a boy, stuttered. He all but saluted, Alex thought, still dazed at how quickly the major had taken charge of the situation. And whatever he had shown the constable, it had clearly satisfied him. So she had probably been wrong about him after all, she thought hopefully.
She spoke quickly as the constable walked away.
‘Look, I’m sorry—’
‘Never mind that. But I’ll have to forgo tea after all, or I’ll miss my train. It was interesting to meet you again.’
Without another word, he strode off, lost in the crowds that had appeared like magic after the morning rain.
Alex had no idea where the railway station was, but she didn’t care. Whoever he was, she wouldn’t care if she never saw him again. They had just attended a funeral, however bizarre, and merely saying that it was interesting to meet her again without any reference to the occasion, was just about the most insensitive thing anyone could say.
Once outside, she took a few deep breaths to rid herself of the cloying atmosphere inside Madame Leanora’s, and her general resentment of the major, and went to find a teashop. Something hot and strong was needed. And the sexy, normal image of one Gary Hollis slid unwi
ttingly into her mind.
She could do with his no-nonsense chatter now, and his earthy style of seduction. Anything to take her mind off the weird and mystical, and although Gary wouldn’t have been flattered by being put in that mould, she knew damn well he’d have com-plied. Willingly. Enthusiastically.
The crowds were becoming thicker now. Someone bumped into her and apologized briefly, but her mind was still on other things. Wondering with a stab of longing if she would ever see Gary again, while knowing that it was probably only time and distance that made thoughts of him so wanton.
But they had been so good together. Good to the point of spectacular... and the stirring inside her was more than somewhat as she entered the little tearoom with its olde-worlde bell clanging over the door, and the chintzy curtains and red-checked tables there to greet her.
‘What’ll it be?’ said a bored waitress.
‘Tea and a cream doughnut, please,’ Alex said, and to hell with her thighs.
She felt in her jacket pocket where she kept her purse with small change, and froze. It wasn’t there. She fumbled rapidly through her handbag, and it wasn’t there, either. She remem-bered somebody bumping against her in the crowded street, and knew what must have happened. She felt so bloody stupid, and so vulnerable, and so close to tears.
Before the waitress could come back with her order, she got out of there, fast. It wasn’t the right thing to do, and maybe if the girl had been better-mannered, she wouldn’t have run out on her. But she had other things to think about right then, trying to remember what had been in her purse.
Not much, thankfully. It was just the one where she kept a few notes and ready change, and she wasn’t in the habit of keeping her credit cards in it. They were safely in the inner compartment of her bag, together with the rest of her money, her ID and driving licence. The thief wouldn’t have got much for his trouble, but the experience shook her all the same.
And he wasn’t going to damn well get away with it, she fumed, as anger took over. She may not have lost much, but there might well be some dear old lady carrying all her life savings around with her, against all establishment advice, and she might not have been so lucky.
Illusions (Alexandra Best Investigations Book 2) Page 7