by Louise Wise
‘That was the best beans on toast I’ve had in a long time,’ she declared suddenly.
‘Me too,’ Ben lay down his knife and fork, and picked up his coffee and finished the last dregs. ‘But maybe the company had something to do with it.’
As a stain highlighted Charlie’s face again, Ben realised how his words could have been interpreted. He hadn’t meant to flirt but somehow with her, it came naturally. ‘I’ve enjoyed this morning,’ Ben continued. He stood up, and grabbed his jacket from over the back of the chair. ‘I thought it’d take us all day to shift that lot. You’ve worked hard, and certainly deserved the beans on toast.’ He grinned easily at her. ‘You’re good company Charlie, and the only distractions you have on the company are good ones, so pay no heed to er, Fanny.’
It had been a hasty exit, but Ben felt if he didn’t leave at that moment he would probably find an excuse to stay with her all afternoon. The canteen was almost full, and already they’d been receiving curious glances. Ben felt he had been the centre of enough talk lately, and to have gossip about his possible dalliance with office staff was something he could do without – no matter how attractive he found them.
It took a lot of will power for Ben not to turn back at the canteen doors and give Charlie one last farewell glance. It was crazy to feel like this about a woman he barely knew. The tune Spirit of Man from War of the Worlds stopped Ben just outside. Ben looked at the number before answering. It was Kevin Locke.
‘Kevin,’ he said as he walked. He climbed the stairs and stopped outside the double doors to the large open plan office and peered inside through the window. Most were still at lunch, but others still dotted the office, either on the phone, or busy at their desk.
‘Exciting news,’ Kevin Locke said.
Ben’s head snapped away from the window. ‘Go on.’
‘She stayed only two nights with Sally Readman, and left for Vincent Road thereafter. She’s been there ever since!’
‘Vincent Road? You say it as if I’m supposed to know the area.’
The PI sighed. ‘Westminster. The city of Westminster! She hadn’t left London as we feared, nor has she been tramping the streets.’
Ben leaned heavily against a wall, disturbing a painting that could be hung any way and still look the same. ‘Thank God.’ He closed his eyes, and allowed himself a few moments to calm the adrenaline sweeping his veins.
‘I don’t have the house name or number yet, but it’s only a matter of time,’ Locke said with self-importance threading his voice. Ben wondered if he was related to John Fanton. ‘I told you to leave it to the experts, didn’t I?’
‘You did. And I can’t thank you enough for finding her,’ Ben said through gritted teeth.
‘I haven’t yet. We’ve still got to find the house she’s staying at. Do you realise how long that road is? It goes on for miles.’
‘I know, but thank you regardless.’ He clicked off and Ben pushed through the double doors towards his borrowed office.
His sister was safe, and well out of harm’s way. He felt an inner peace, which he hadn’t felt in a long time, but he knew it wasn’t only to do with knowing his sister was safe. Ms Charlie Wallis made the sun shine even when he had felt his life was crumbling beneath him.
Ben felt her presence, and turned to watch her from Fanny’s office window as she walked towards her desk. He knew she had come in by the way the small hairs on his arms all quivered to attention. Her love of life was dynamic – heady; her almost dazzling green eyes and mop of red hair. She was like sunshine. Dazzling, intense and wonderful to be around.
Ben felt giddy. He was in love!
His spirits plunged even before the revelation came to him. Why would a beautiful, popular woman like Charlie want to be seen with a man whose idea of fashionable dress is a trip to a 1940s museum? He must be mad to even think he had a chance with her. She was a party girl… wasn’t that called a ladette these days?
Ben opened his brief case and pulled out the A-Z of London from his briefcase and tried to dislodge Charlie from his mind. He’d concentrate on finding Camilla instead. He traced Westminster with his finger, and located Vincent Road. Locke hadn’t been exaggerating, the road went on and on.
He tried to think of people he knew in Westminster. The Queen didn’t count, although he had met her when his father collected his OBE for his charity work. The Nicoles of this world would have been impressed, but the Charlies wouldn’t. Now, if he could say he’d met David Beckham or some popstar… there he went again, thinking of Charlie.
Suddenly, in his mind’s eye he saw a green-eyed woman glaring at him from the back of his car. His eyes widened, and his head flew to the office window that overlooked the staff floor – and Charlie. She was on the telephone, leaning back in her chair and laughing at something the caller had to say.
Charlie! It had been Charlie in the back of his car. Heavy makeup must have covered her freckles and her red curly hair had been covered with a hat, but nobody could forget those large green eyes.
He turned from the window, his hands clutching the top of his head. Was Charlie a prostitute?
The girl in the back of his car had black hair, but maybe the dark had made it appear black instead of red? He thought back to Tarty – dark afro hair. But she had long legs and ... Ben swallowed ... Charlie in the Union Jack dress had long legs.
How could he have not have recognised her? The hair must have been a wig or something. God, he was stupid!
Didn’t Core pay enough? Christ… what if she became a victim – not worth thinking about. He brushed the thought away quickly, then turned to look back at her, but Melvin Giles caught his eye and waved as if they were long-lost buddies. Ben began to raise his hand before he realised what he was doing, and jammed both hands in his pockets. He couldn’t make out what was written on Giles’s T-shirt from where he stood, and frankly, he didn’t want to know. He was just grateful the public never got up to this floor.
God, had Charlie recognised him as the driver of the car? She didn’t appear to, but… Christ, what was she up to?
THIRTY FOUR
Charlie wasn’t sure how she managed to get through the rest of the day. She had practised her plan in her mind, and was becoming almost delirious with excitement as it began to take shape: an elaborate honey-trap. She was going to be the honey for the Gentleman Abductor.
It was Pete’s birthday and Charlie and the entire third floor were invited out for a few drinks after work. Charlie barely knew Pete, he was a shy, middle-aged, married man of four, and usually liked to keep himself to himself, but this occasion, his fiftieth, wasn’t going to go uncelebrated, not by his colleagues anyway.
Charlie tried to wriggle out of it, but Melvin warned her that Pete would feel hurt if she didn’t turn up. And so she had to pretend she was her usual happy-go-lucky self when she knew that later she’d be using herself as bait for the abductor.
She entered the Pig in Muck pub with Melvin, grumbling that she had a pile of ironing to catch up on.
‘You never iron,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t look as if you do anyway.’
She aimed a light-hearted punch at his arm, but then stopped dead.
Ahead of her, a tall broad-shouldered man stood at the bar, his back towards her. It was Ben Middleton, and her heart skipped a beat. He was ordering a round of drinks, and as Charlie neared her eyes drank him in. She focused dreamily on his hair: black and straight, apart from where it curled around his ears.
There was that horrible moment of being inside the red Audi all over again. That taste of fear, her panic and the escalating terror that she might not escape the car alive.
She stared at the back of his head and imagined him wearing the beanie hat. Her eyes travelled to the broad shoulders and then the hands as they reached for the drinks the barman handed him, then back up to the hair again.
She tried to remember if his hair had been like that in the canteen, or even in the park, or at any other time come to that.
Ben turned around, and on seeing her, his face broke into a spontaneous smile that did strange things to the lining of her stomach and the muscles in her legs. ‘Just in time,’ he said. ‘What are you having?’
She stared at him stupidly. Her body was reacting to him, yet her mind was turning circles.
‘I’ll have a gin and tonic,’ Melvin said, and he linked his arm through Charlie’s as if to enlighten Ben that Charlie was taken. ‘Charl’s a Malibu girl.’
‘With Coke, lemonade...?’ Ben looked at her, as she stood struck dumb.
Melvin nudged her, but said, ‘Coke. She’ll have Coke and Malibu.’
‘I, er, I need the loo,’ she muttered, and scurried off. Inside a cubicle she sat down to do her business. It had been two weeks since Ben had been taken in for questioning and released without charges, but even when gossip had circulated and was at its strongest she had protested his innocence. Had she been wrong?
Above the toilet cistern was the tissue dispenser and Charlie twisted around to lift a hand to pull the tissue down. It was a new roll, and cursing she spun the reel to seek the end. She found it and pulled. A tiny piece of tissue came away between finger and thumb, she cursed again.
Ben couldn’t be the abductor, she thought. She couldn’t be so completely wrong about a person. And especially Ben. He was too… too… God damn it...! she spun the roll of paper trying to find the end; and finding it, she grabbed it and pulled sharply and the reel released reams of toilet paper down on her head.
Charlie sat on the toilet, knickers around her knees, covered with white tissue. She stared miserably at the grey door with its graffiti covering. Ben wasn’t a criminal, she insisted to herself. She fancied him! There, she had admitted it. He was geeky and dressed in suits from a past era, but there was something about him ... something that compressed her heart whenever she thought about him.
Oh God… what did that make her? Was she was one of those women who were attracted to bad men. She’d be writing to murderers on death row next!
She pulled the tissue off, and stood up adjusting her clothes. She balled the excess and left the cubicle and placed the surplus toilet paper in a bin. She washed her hands, and in the mirror checked her lipstick and that her hair wasn’t too untidy.
Her mind drifted to Andy and immediately realised that the feelings she felt for him, if indeed there had been any, could not be compared to those she felt for Ben. Ben, she thought, crush or not, occupied her thoughts night and day whereas Andy barely made a moment a week even when they were together. She wondered what he was doing and if he had any guilt at the way he acted, then realised she didn’t care. Ben popped back into her head, and her heart jittered. She cursed her reflection.
She rejoined Melvin and, after checking that he was alone, hissed in his ear, ‘Tell me Mel, did you believe in those rumours about Middleton being the abductor?’
‘No, I didn’t believe in them. I’m not keen on the man, but the very idea is just outrageous. He was taken in for questioning and released without any charges. It was all over the car he drives, and the fact he was investigating the abductions! An easy mistake.’
‘Car?’
‘He drives a red Audi when he doesn’t take the tube. Haven’t you seen it in the car park?’
‘An Audi? He drives an Audi?’ Charlie’s heart was thumping heavily.
‘Yep, and the abductor drives a similar red car. See the possible connection, hun?’ Melvin was looking amused.
‘I see,’ she said, thinking hard. Did she?
‘Why the interest?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, I like to be kept in the know.’
‘Well, Sir was playing journalist, and got nicked for kerb-crawling.’ Melvin chuckled. ‘Then police got a tipoff that he was this abductor because of his car.’
Why didn’t she check the carpark when Ben was actually in the building! Some reporter she turned out to be.
‘But now the police believe their abductor is a Scottish man with a grudge against prostitutes in this area, so your Mr Middleton is well and truly off the hook!’
Scottish?
That had been her evidence!
She turned to look for Ben. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Could he put on a Scottish accent? Oh, God, she could do with something to drink right now. Something neat and strong.
‘You can continue lusting after him safely knowing he hasn’t been abducting women off the streets,’ Melvin said.
She turned back to him. ‘Where is he, anyway?’
‘Yep, crush,’ Melvin confirmed. ‘You’re practically hyperventilating, and you’re not listening to me. Classic symptoms. He’s at the bar, getting our drinks. Hey, tomorrow his new spick and span office will be ready so this’ll probably be the last time we’ll see him daily, and your crush with peter out.’
Her eyes searched for him, but it looked as if the entire staff of London Core were jostling for their turn at the bar. There was a movement in the scrum and a dark head popped up – Ben. He must have dropped something. He was head and shoulders above most men there. She needed a moment alone to think, and thought about heading back into the Ladies but Melvin was speaking again,
‘And Fanny will get his office back, which hopefully will make him more tolerable to work with. He’s been such a miserable sod lately.’
‘You can tell?’ she said absently, dragging her eyes away from Ben.
‘You have it bad, Charlie Wallis,’ Melvin said. ‘Would it help if I said that Sir was the abductor? Would that put you off him and prevent you from getting hurt?’
She stared at Melvin for a moment, taking in his words. ‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’
‘I think I’m in love. Really in love.’
‘It’s a crush, doll. And as long as it stays that way you’ll be OK.’ He put his arm around her. ‘Sir probably doesn’t know you exist, if I’m to be brutally honest.’
It was brutal.
‘We had lunch in the canteen,’ she said, ‘and he bought me a coffee in the park. He does know I exist, Mel, and I think he likes me.’
Melvin dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Doll, he’s bought me a coffee a couple of times too. He’s,’ he cleared his throat, ‘trying too hard being everyone’s friend. Don’t read too much into the canteen lunch. It meant nothing to him.’ He hugged her tightly, as if trying to shield her from his words. ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’
He was right. She knew it deep down, and was relieved. That’s what she told herself anyway. She didn’t want an abductor interested in her, after all.
‘Melvin!’ Mikey came over and pulled him away from Charlie. ‘I need your brain for a moment…’
As Melvin was led away, he glanced over his shoulder at her and mouthed, ‘Are you OK?’
She smiled, and nodded. As Melvin disappeared into the throng of people with Mikey she turned around ready to make a move towards the door and fresh air, but found her gaze locking with a pair of chocolate brown eyes. Her heart melted; no, it evaporated in a puff of vapour. She could almost hear it sighing as it floated somewhere inside her. She returned Ben’s smile, and knew herself hooked on this abductor-cum-gentleman. At least, she’d be murdered happy, she thought as he arrived at her side.
‘Here’s your drink,’ he said. He put Melvin’s drink on a table.
Charlie thanked him, and took the glass. They continued to smile at one another until he said,
‘How have you been keeping?’ as if she were a maiden aunt.
‘Fine, thank you,’ she answered back, just as prim. She checked his hair and hoped to find that it no longer curled around his ears. She was out of luck. The little curls either side of his head were in place.
He cleared his throat noisily, squared his shoulders and looked somewhere above her head. He rocked back on the balls of his feet. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be out of your hair,’ he said.
‘Hair?’ Charlie almost choked on her drink.
‘Tomorrow my office will be ready for me to mov
e into, and you’ll have your Mr Fanton back.’
Charlie flashed him a dazzling smile to cover up her earlier confusion. Ben made a funny movement with his feet as if he’d lost his balance and was struggling to regain it. His elbow banged against the bar table.
‘Are you all right?’ Charlie asked.
‘Yes,’ he said quickly, almost cutting her off in mid-sentence.
She studied her drink, trying to think of a way of dropping in ‘Scottish accents’ into the conversation. The top of the ice cube had a hole in it, she noticed. She poked it with her tongue.
‘I envy him,’ he said suddenly. And it took Charlie a moment to realise he was talking about Mr Fanton.
She lowered her glass, hoping he hadn’t seen her chase the ice cube around her glass with her tongue. ‘Why?’
‘He has no huge, whopping business to worry about. He lives the simple, but respectable life and more importantly has a loving wife, and a couple of kids.’
‘You envy that?’ she asked, momentarily taken aback. ‘I’d have thought you’d be living it up with blondes on each arm, driving flash red cars…’ she trailed off blushing.
Ben tugged at his collar, as Charlie noticed his suddenly pallid face.
‘Sorry,’ she said, averting her eyes. ‘None of my business.’
He made a remarkable comeback; flashing her a grin that had her heart evaporating all over again. ‘I’ve never been the type of man who enjoys the company of those kinds of women.’
‘What type of women do you like?’ she asked before she could stop herself.
‘I’ve never known my type,’ he said, still grinning. He laughed, almost to himself and said, ‘I’m practically a virgin.’
Charlie coughed on the lump of ice.
They fell silent again.
‘How are you for money?’ he asked, and appeared to wince as soon as his words were out of his mouth. ‘I, er, I mean, generally, h-how do you think the staff of Core is for money? Do we pay you enough?’