by Jo Fenton
“We’re looking for a suite. Probably a sofa and an armchair. Cheap, cheerful and comfy.” Joanna smiles sweetly at him, and I’m reminded of the charm she can turn on when she wants something. Seeing her use it now, I realise how much she’s got round me since she’s been in Manchester. Despite everything, she always seems to get her own way, and she succeeds before anyone’s had time to realise they’ve been played. On the plus side, it’s a useful skill in a detective.
Half an hour later, Joanna has ordered an olive-green suite (2-seater settee and 2 armchairs). The wallpaper in her lounge has an olive-green leaf pattern, so it should match nicely. They don’t seem to sell desks, and the sales chap suggests IKEA or Argos.
When we get back to the car, I give her a choice of ordering from Amazon, or going to IKEA without me. I don’t think I could handle another warehouse right now.
“I’m sure Amazon will be fine. You seem a bit calmer now. Are you happy to drive?”
“Sure. Let’s get back and see what we can find online.” My driving is now normal, and we return to Joanna’s house without incident. I’m turning the engine off when her phone rings.
“I don’t recognise the number,” she says, pressing the green Connect button. “Hello, White Knight Detective Agency?”
I sense her excitement as she listens to the person on the other end of the call.
“Yes, of course. Would three-thirty tomorrow afternoon be convenient? Great.” She gives out the address and some basic directions. “Wonderful. See you soon then.”
She ends the call and turns to me, her face lighting up. “We’ve got our first client.”
Chapter Ten
Because Joanna bought it from an independent store, the furniture should arrive tomorrow morning. So our client, whose name is apparently Penny Moore, will have something to sit on.
Joanna makes me an omelette in one of the frying pans we extracted from a box this morning, and we eat it at the small table in the kitchen, using plates and cutlery that we also rescued earlier.
“Are you up to B&Q this afternoon?” she asks.
I sigh and agree. It’s another shop in a warehouse-type building. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have flinched; now, the idea of going into any area remotely resembling that place reduces me to a quivering wreck. However, with the client coming tomorrow, we really don’t have time to wait around for Amazon orders.
I give myself a good talking-to before we get back in the car, and manage a better trip than the morning expedition. We then spend three hours battling with the newly-bought CCTV, the receiver and the various wires. The instructions that came with the kit are worse than useless, and it’s only thanks to the multitude of YouTube videos that we’re able to set up a system that works.
I arrive home at six, exhausted and too tired to cook. Cheryl orders pizza for all of us from an app on her phone, and I fall into bed shortly after eating, too shattered even to discuss the day’s events with Matt, or to wonder what he’s been doing.
It’s only the next morning that my curiosity returns.
“What did you do yesterday while I was out?” I hand him a mug of coffee, place another on the table, and sit down opposite him.
“Just rested mostly. Obeying doctor’s orders. I did a bit of reading. Watched daytime TV. Nothing unusual. Well, not unusual since I got out of hospital.” He’s gazing at me – perhaps a bit too steadily, as if trying not to look shifty. “How did your day go?”
Experience tells me he won’t tell me anything if pressed. I must be more devious. I launch into an explanation of my day.
“Why didn’t you call me to sort out the tech stuff? You know I’m better at that than you.”
“Last time you saw Joanna, you nearly died. I’m sure you can understand my reluctance. Especially as you won’t tell me why.”
Matt reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You know I’d tell you if I could. I’ve not had an affair or anything so sordid. It’s complicated though.”
“You’re making no sense. What’s going on?” But I leave my hand in his, enjoying for a brief moment the comfort of physical contact.
He looks thoughtful, then speaks. “Joanna and I got involved in a government project to do with some pharmaceuticals. It was, and still is, very secret, and I can’t tell you about it. Seeing her here that day, I thought something had gone wrong. There could be very serious implications if it had, and that was why I was so distressed.”
Now I pull my hand away and stare at him. I can’t believe he’s told me as much as this. I guess he cares that I suspected him of infidelity.
“How the hell could you get involved in a top secret project?”
“I got approached, Becky. It was two years ago. Your job in the police made a difference because they could vet you properly. It got complicated after… Well, you know when I mean. With you not in the force anymore, they wanted me to stop working on it. I think they were a bit suspicious of the circumstances in which you left.” He pauses. “They’re not always decent people. In fact, they rarely are. I regret having got involved, and I’ve already said far too much. Forget it, love, please.”
“How can I forget something like that?” I decide to make a confession. “Also, when you were asleep the other day, I noticed a message come in on your phone. It said something about a ‘drop’. What was that about? And who are RT and KL?” I get a suspicious look for my pains. “I only glanced at it because it pinged, and that message popped up on the home screen.” Even to my own ears I sound ridiculously defensive now, but he relaxes.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. I was supposed to help with a new job, but they got someone else on to it. KL is just another operative. RT is the guy in charge. Put it out of your mind and focus on your new case. You’ve got a client coming today. Prepare yourself for that.”
His expression is set again. I’ve already learned much more than I expected, and I need time to take it all in.
***
I get to Joanna’s at 11am. It’s earlier than planned, but even after an hour’s walk in the woods to clear my head, I don’t feel ready to return home and pretend nothing has happened.
Joanna welcomes me in.
“Thanks for coming so early. I had a bit of a lie-in this morning and have just had breakfast. Do you want some coffee? The delivery men will be here shortly.”
I accept the offer, and we sit in the kitchen sipping our drinks in silence for a few minutes.
“Something’s up? What is it?” she asks me, as the quietness becomes heavy.
“Matt told me you and he had got involved in some government project, top secret thing. I kind of dragged it out of him.”
“Wow, well done. I suppose he didn’t really have a choice. It was that or let you continue to think we’d had a fling.” She narrows her gaze at me. “What exactly did he tell you?”
I repeat the conversation as accurately as I can.
“Okay. Well, I’m glad that’s out of the way. I’m sure you want to know more details, but it’s not safe right now. Believe me, we’ll let you know as soon as we can.”
“So, are you and Matt still working together?”
“Not really. The project finished about six months ago. At least, Matt was taken off it then, and I resigned last month, as I needed to move, and leave my job. It closed my avenues of research, and therefore of usefulness. But I wanted to continue to use those skills, hence the detective agency. I’m pleased we can be open about it now, but only between ourselves. I’m still highly bound to secrecy, and I’ve probably endangered us all by telling you as much. Except I don’t think they know yet where I am. I hope not. My married name isn’t really Knight, but I chose it because I thought ‘the White Knight’ agency sounded cool.”
“It does sound cool. But surely, if these are professionals they’ll have been able to track you down by now. And how did you set up bank accounts and get a job with a changed name?”
“It may have been foolish, but I changed it by dee
d poll as soon as I left the project. So yeah, I had to tell people like the HMRC, and get my driving licence and passport amended, but I don’t think they’d think anyone would be so stupid as to do it officially.”
I take a deep breath and try not to show impatience. I can see she’s done everything in good faith, but I reckon Matt would have a fit if he knew.
“Okay. When I was in the police, I would always do the basic checks first. Mostly nothing would show up, but every so often, a criminal would be very daring or perhaps a bit naïve, not realising what we could access. In those cases, it made it really easy to catch them.”
“You’re saying I’m naïve?” She looks hurt. Shit.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to offend you. But I think any operative worth their salt will have tracked you down by now. On the other hand, if you’ve nothing to hide, why worry?”
“I’ve not really got anything to hide. It’s just that I don’t like people keeping tabs on me, and once you’ve worked with them at all, they kind of never let you go.”
“I can see that, but changing your name and stuff makes it looks as though you’re hiding from them. Why don’t you make contact? You can say that you’re trying to avoid your ex, who’s being a pain, and that you wanted to make a new start. Let them know where they can contact you if they need you, and thank them for everything they’ve ever done for you.”
Joanna wraps her hands around her mug and sits back in the chair, looking thoughtful.
“Maybe. Yeah, I could do. I suppose looking at it from their point of view, it would seem as though I’ve done a runner because I wanted to avoid them. They’d think I’ve done something wrong.”
“It does look like that.” I give her a quick, nervous glance. “So, how well do you know Matt?”
“We met about half a dozen times. Usually in London, but twice further North – Newcastle, Carlisle. I never got to know him though. He was just another operative. Someone I worked with remotely on a project. We discussed the project when we met.” She hesitates.
“Carry on.”
“The only thing is that we had to meet in hotel rooms, to make sure the discussions were private. There’d be this thing, where one of us would book the room, then when we arrived, we’d always ask for a different room, and it would usually be the third or fourth room they offered. We had to be sure we hadn’t been set up. If our enemies had known we were meeting there, they might have bugged the room or something. So we avoided it by changing rooms. Nothing ever happened between us. I didn’t fancy him anyway, but he made it clear that he was happily married and the hotel rooms were a necessary evil. I was fine with that. I had enough complications going on in my life. And obviously if I’d known who he was, the question of marital status wouldn’t even have arisen.”
Clearly the question did arise, but Matt’s alleged response sounds very like the sort of thing he’d say – upfront and before it became an issue – so I do believe Joanna.
“Fine. I think it’s time we prepare for our first client. What do we know about her so far?”
Joanna gets out an A5 notebook and opens it to the first page. “Penny Moore works for a press agency – primarily taking photos of celebrities.”
“Do we know anything else about her?” I ask, but any response is delayed by the doorbell. Joanna jumps up and goes to the door, and we spend the next several minutes directing the delivery driver and his mate to get the sofa and chairs through the front door, which suddenly seems much narrower.
Eventually we’re alone again. The suite is arranged appropriately in the lounge, with the plastic covers safely stowed in the bin. It has that lovely new smell, and I breathe deeply.
“You daft woman,” says Joanna. “Why don’t you sit down, and test it out? We’ve never sat on it without the plastic. It might be awful.”
I give her a look as if to say It wouldn’t dare be awful, but sit down as instructed. The soft fabric has just the right amount of support, allowing my legs and bottom to melt into it. I feel my muscles relax.
“This might be a bit too comfy. We’ll never get rid of the clients.”
“No, it’s good.” She settles herself into the armchair. “It will encourage them to talk.” She flashes me an evil grin.
“Maybe. Anyway, you never answered my question. What else do we know about Penny?”
“Not as much as I’d like. Bloody data protection laws. I kept hitting a wall. I might have to teach myself to hack?”
“How easy it to teach yourself something like that?”
“The kids seem to do it all the time. My son’s not a bad hacker.”
“Where is he?”
“He lives in Edinburgh, to be as close to his daughter as he can be – he has joint custody - but he’s a software engineer, and can work from home. If we give him some warning, he could come down here for a week and stay with me. I spoke to him last night, and he wants to see me settled in, so that could work out well.”
“Okay. Alternatively, and perhaps more legally, I still have friends in the police who could check things out for me.” My thoughts return to Wendy and Finn. I’ve avoided contacting them for the last few months, and I wonder if they’d be pleased to hear from me now – just because I want something.
My phone pings. I glance at it, and it blurs before my eyes. I blink hard and try to slow my suddenly rapid breathing.
‘Becks. How r u doing? Don’t hide from me. BF’
BF stands for Big Finn (he’s six foot three), or Best Friend. He once joked that he’s happy with either.
“Oh my God, that’s really spooky. That was my best pal from the force. Can I just answer this?”
Joanna nods, and I type out a quick message.
‘Great to hear from you. Fancy meeting up?’
‘Obvs! Lunch tomoz? Village hotel near u? 12:30?’ His texting is more like that of my younger daughter than a grown man. In anyone else it would drive me mad, but I smile and type back ‘Sure’ and add a smiley emoji. We had a conversation about messaging once a long time ago, but his comment still sticks in my mind: “Just because I don’t put kisses in my messages to you, Becks, it doesn’t mean I don’t care. Quite the opposite in fact. I wouldn’t want the wrong person to pick it up and get the wrong idea.”
He meant Matt and the kids, but it would have only been partly the wrong idea. Finn and I have never had an affair (I don’t count a few drunken snogs at Christmas parties), but he’s held a special place in my heart for the last twenty-five years, and if we’d ever both been single at the same time… Well, who knows? It obviously wasn’t meant to be, but he still makes my insides go all gooey.
Joanna doesn’t need to know any of this, although she’s clearly curious.
“Best pal, huh? Male?”
“Yes, why?”
“You’re smiling as you type.” Her knowing smile immediately irritates me.
“He was my partner at work for a long time. We had each other’s backs. He’s a close friend, that’s all.”
“It’s fine. You don’t need to justify anything to me. But if you’ve got a soft spot for someone, cut Matt some slack, particularly when he’s not done anything to earn your anger or jealousy.”
“I’m neither angry nor jealous. And it’s two-thirty. Don’t you think we should check out the equipment, to make sure all the angles are correct?”
She agrees, but with a glint in her eye. I have a horrible feeling she’s not forgotten the subject.
We spend the next twenty minutes adjusting camera angles and playing back film of a cuddly elephant sitting on the sofa. The elephant is the size of a ten-year-old child or thereabouts, and apparently watches over Joanna while she’s asleep in her bedroom. I find that a bit strange, but I’m happy to make use of Elinor Elephant to get the CCTV set up correctly.
At ten to three, Joanna returns Elinor to her dressing table, and returns downstairs to pace the kitchen. I make myself another coffee and obey instructions to raid the cupboard for biscuits; and settl
e myself at the table with the laptop to view the live images of the now empty sofa.
“Shit.” I bang my hand against my forehead.
“What’s up?”
“We forgot about speakers,” I say, frustrated with myself.
“We’ve got a few minutes; we could test them out now?”
“We didn’t buy any. I’m going to have to listen at the door, or just come in really early on.”
“Play it by ear – if you don’t mind the pun. I’ll try to take notes while she’s talking. That’s the doorbell. Shut this door for now and listen as well as you can.”
Chapter Eleven
As I watch on the laptop, with my ear as close to the door as I can manage, the guest settles herself in the seat indicated by Joanna. I can see her perfectly. The image is quite good. I’m looking at a young woman in her mid to late twenties, with short blonde hair and a pixie-shaped face. Joanna introduces herself, and then the prospective client speaks. I can hardly hear her. Damn. She’s got one of those soft, indistinct voices. I watch her again for a few seconds. She’s a complete stranger and doesn’t set off any alarm bells in my head. I leave the camera running on record, so we can watch back later, and open the door to the lounge.
“Hi, sorry I’m a few minutes late. I’m Becky, Joanna’s business partner.” I hold my hand out, and Penny shakes it. She has a limp, damp and pathetic sort of shake that leaves me wanting to clean my hand on my trousers. I control the temptation and smile at her instead.
“It’s okay. It’s nice to meet you.” Her smile is shy, and doesn’t reach her eyes, but I put this down to her obvious nervousness.
I sit down in the free armchair, and nod to Joanna in the other chair, to lead the conversation.
“So, Penny, how did you find us, and why?”
“You were in the paper, advertised as white knights who could rescue a damsel in distress. I need a white knight.”
“Why don’t you tell us the problem?” I can see Joanna controlling her irritation, by the way she speaks slowly and carefully – totally unlike her usual rapid communication.