Grace Smith Investigates

by Liz Evans

  And she should know. Annie is also ex-police service. Like me, she’d resigned for personal reasons. Unlike me, she retained an excellent unofficial working relationship with all her old contacts.

  I asked how come the alarm system hadn’t activated.

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Annie snarled through her splintered door frame at Vetch, who’d just climbed the stairs with an armful of planks.

  ‘Ask me what, sweet thing?’ he panted, depositing the load and removing hammer and nails from his pocket.

  ‘Grace was wondering why the alarm didn’t go off.’

  ‘It did. And the security company’s response was everything they promised, I assure you.’

  ‘What did they promise?’ I asked, surveying the debris. ‘To take a round trip via the Orkneys before they dealt with any trouble?’

  Annie was packing the computer’s hard disk and a dozen plastic files into a bag. ‘They offer a six-minute response time. And judging by the amount of damage to Jan’s desk, I’d say that was about right. Needless to say, they didn’t have time to enter Vetch’s office at all. You see, the alarm triggered when our vandals got bored trashing the upper floors and decided to wander down to reception. And do you know why it went off at that particular juncture?’

  I was beginning to have an idea. But Annie was in full rant and not about to be interrupted.

  ‘See that?’ She dragged me on to the landing and pointed to the winking red light of the security sensor nestling in a ceiling corner. ‘It’s a fake. It’s nothing more than a plastic box with a battery-powered bulb. The only genuine ones are those on the ground floor.’

  ‘Since when?’

  Vetch gave a shrug. ‘The past two years or so.’

  ‘But why?’

  For once the smug self-assurance had been wiped off his round face and even the tips of his ears seemed to have a hangdog droop. ‘Cash flow, delicious. The tide has been ebbing so I decided we’d have to economise.’

  ‘No, you decided the rest of us should economise. Your office still had the benefit of the security system,’ Annie snapped.

  ‘It is on the ground floor. It made sense.’

  ‘To you, maybe, you cheap little…..’

  ‘Gnome,’ I supplied helpfully.

  ‘I was going to say chiseller. The sooner I move, the flaming better.’ She heaved the packed bag on to her shoulder and waved a hand over the rest of the stacked files. ‘You see that lot. Well, I expect to find them stored in your safe when I get back.’

  ‘It’s rather occupied at present.’

  ‘Unoccupy it until you’ve got my filing cabinets and office door repaired. I’ll let you have the bill for replacing the carpet and furniture.’

  ‘But if you’re leaving anyway, dear thing ...’

  ‘As the others will be, I should think, when they see the state of their offices. Which will leave you two cheapskates to see who can scrounge the most off each other.’

  That was too much after the last couple of days. ‘Listen, when it comes to cheap, you could win medals, lady. What kind of best mate can’t even remember to buy a birthday card?’

  ‘You what?’ Sparks glittered behind Annie’s lenses.

  ‘I said ...’

  ‘I heard. Come here.’ Her hand locked around my wrist like a handcuff. She had more weight and a surge of energy fuelled by adrenalin and a whole day of furious filing. I was dragged downstairs, into the street, and marched past the strolling gaggles of day-trippers making the most of the warm Saturday evening along the promenade.

  The mood she was in, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Annie had hauled me down the beach and tipped me straight into the rollers. But she swung inland again part way along the prom and stormed up a familiar side street.

  The tables were packed with beach bunnies tucking into fry-ups before they hit the arcades and pleasure park for the night, and the jukebox was jumping to ‘Chantilly Lace’. Ignoring the fact I was bouncing off the tables, Annie charged up to the counter with me in tow. ‘Evening, Shane!’

  Swinging round with his arms wide open, Shane metaphorically embraced us to his T-shirt. ‘Here she is at last - the original birthday girl. Great party you missed there.’ He swept the arms out again, embracing the whole of his cafe.

  For the first time I noticed that Pepi’s was somewhat more gaily decorated than usual. There was a large sign strung behind the counter with holographed letters spelling out ‘Happy Birthday’. I let my eyes slide further round the walls. Bunches of balloons were stuck up at regular intervals; some had shrivelled and shrunk but there were enough left to read the birthday greetings, ‘30 today’, and assorted erotic suggestions. I completed the three-hundred-degree sweep and locked on to Annie’s glittering eyes.

  ‘We had a surprise birthday party for you. Shane shut the cafe for the evening so we could use it.’

  ‘You never said.’

  ‘That is rather the point of a surprise party. You said you’d be around Thursday evening. In fact, you asked me out for a drink.’

  ‘I sort of forgot.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Sorry.’ There didn’t seem a lot else to say. She’d plainly gone to a lot of trouble to give me a good evening. And I’d not only missed it but slagged her off as well. Fortunately I was saved from further abasement by another arrival.

  ‘Barbra,’ Shane yelled. ‘How’s the best little bopper in town?’

  ‘Tired. I haven’t jived like that for years.’

  I remembered Barbra’s cryptic remark on the phone Friday morning about hoping to catch me ‘last night’. ‘She came too?’

  ‘Vetch brought her,’ Annie confirmed.

  ‘And you had dancing?’

  ‘Moved the furniture into the back yard so we could bop in here. It was so good we had people queuing up outside to get in. Thought we were the latest club, didn’t they, Barbra?’

  ‘Yeah, it was a belting do,’ Barbra confirmed. ‘You get a better offer?’

  ‘You could say that,’ I murmured. ‘Were you looking for me?’

  ‘Went round the office. What a bleeding mess - reminds me of some of Lee’s visits. Vetchy thought you’d be here.’ She took another photo wallet from her bag. ‘Here. Don’t go washing this lot.’

  ‘Why did you want to see me?’ I shouted over Jerry Lee Lewis ripping it up.

  ‘Warn you. Lee’s back.’

  ‘Has he tried anything yet? Matricide-wise?’

  ‘Even he’s not that thick. He’s not going to make it that obvious.’

  ‘Does he know about... ?’ I held up the wallet.

  ‘I made darn sure he did, darling. Take care now. And don’t forget lunch tomorrow. You and Vetch. One o’clock. Bye, sexy . ..’ She blew a kiss at Shane. He smiled smugly. And then asked me if I wanted the rest of my cake.

  I glanced at a still steaming Annie. ‘A cake?’

  ‘Looked like a giant cheeseburger with trimmings. Full buffet as well. And the booze could have filled a bathtub. Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where some of it started out, actually .. . but still you found something better to do. How did you spend your birthday, as a matter of interest?’

  ‘I started off skinny-dipping and ended it getting bonked by a complete stranger who wears a frock and spent the entire evening lying through his teeth to me, if you must know.’

  My announcement happened to coincide with a switch-over in discs on the jukebox. It blasted into all four corners of the cafe. The clink and scraping of cutlery came to an abrupt stop.

  ‘Blimey.’ Shane’s jaw dropped. ‘No wonder you hadn’t got time for the party. Tell you what, wait until the rush dies down a bit and I’ll cook you both supper on the house. Steak, onion rings, fries, the works. And you can pick up yer presents. I got them all in the back.’

  ‘I love you, Shane.’ Leaning over, I smacked a kiss on his lips.

  ‘I’d love you too,’ Annie assured him. ‘but I’ve given up men for the present. We’ll ta
ke two teas to go and wait for the lull outside. Come on, you ... I want every salacious detail.’

  She had to wait until we were seated on the largely deserted beach before I gave her the full story.

  ‘So where do you go from here? Are you still going to go looking for this charmer?’

  ‘You bet. For one thing, I've got to find him in his Rainwing mode for this ...’ I tapped Barbra’s photos that were sticking out of my jacket. ‘And for another, I want to tell the rat what I think of him. Preferably in a way that will ruin his chances of future fatherhood.’

  ‘Why? I mean, it’s not like he forced you into doing anything - is it?’

  ‘No.’ I drove my bare feet into the warm sand, watching it creeping up until they were buried up to the ankles. ‘No. He didn’t. But it’s just ... I don’t know how much was real now. And I feel such a victim.’ I wrapped my arms round my knees and rested my chin on them so I was looking out to the retreating tide rather than at her. ‘I don’t make a habit of one-night stands. I know everyone does it these days’

  ‘I don’t.’

  It didn’t seem very polite to point out I didn’t suppose she got asked all that much. ‘You read about it in the papers and mags. All these columnists going on about who - and how many - they’ve had this week.’

  ‘That’s probably because admitting they go home to watch Coronation Street with a microwave meal and the cat doesn’t make good copy.’

  I looked round. Annie was flat on her back, staring at the small wisps of clouds drifting in from the Channel.

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Yep. You know that girl in your class who came in every Monday morning to tell you how she’d got dead drunk/stoned over the weekend and been at it with at least six drop-dead- gorgeous boys since Friday?’

  ‘The only one who was still a virgin when we all left?’

  ‘That’s the one. Well, I reckon those columns are the literary equivalent. They’re the twenty-something match of the diary you hoped your mum would never read when you were fourteen - ninety-eight per cent wishful thinking.’

  ‘I’m not sure that makes me feel better about leaping into bed with a bloke I’d only known a couple of hours.’

  ‘Write it off as a mistake. You’re entitled to one a decade. And you’ve got a whole new decade to screw up in now.’

  ‘Cheers.’ I finished my tea, emptied out the dregs and stared out across the sands whilst I assessed if I felt any better about last night. I guessed I did, I decided.

  I let my eyes wander around the sweep of the sands. Some diehards were still pitched in small groups around the sandcastles and holes, but most people had moved off to join the traffic jams home or pack into the cafes and private hotels for dinner. Which was why the couple plodding through the soft sand drifts towards the steps caught my attention. They didn’t notice me until they were practically tripping over my feet. In Carter’s case that was probably because his eyes were fixed on Kelly Benting’s backside as she stalked ahead of him.

  ‘Hi, Carter.’

  ‘What? Oh, hiya.’ He stood awkwardly, his arms full of a beach bag, towels, two pairs of trainers and shirts. ‘Kelly and me’s been doing the beach. We went to the amusement park yesterday evening. Didn’t we, Kel?’

  ‘Don’t call me Kel. I told yer, it’s Kelly.’ She’d paused a few steps beyond us. When her two-sizes-too-small clothes might have been appropriate, she was wearing an overlarge sloppy T- shirt that brushed her knees, and a pair of shorts underneath. Standing now with both hands in the shorts pockets, she ordered Carter to get a move on.

  ‘OK, Kelly. You sure you don’t want an ice cream? Or some chips? We could go up the fish bar.’

  ‘I’ve told you, I don’t want nothing to eat. Saturday’s our busiest night. I have to help out Mum in the restaurant. Now go get us a taxi quick, before they all go.’

  ‘Sure, Kelly.’ He turned clumsily in the sand and nearly fell over when she told him to leave her shoes and he had to change direction again.

  Thumping down beside us, Kelly dragged the trainers on, heedless of the film of dried sand clinging to her skin.

  ‘I thought Carter wasn’t your type? In fact, I thought Carter wasn’t anybody’s type.’

  Kelly raised her shoulders. ‘I got to thinking about what we said - about how Carter could be into big money in ten years. I mean, it’s not like I have to just stick to him. He’ll be off to university anyway. But when he does start earning big bucks and gets a place in California

  ‘You’re making sure he remembers who you are when you turn up with the suitcase?’

  ‘Yeah. Investing, that’s what I’m doing.’

  She sounded uncertain. I had the distinct impression that not even the prospect of a condo on the Pacific was going to keep Kelly ‘investing’ for long.

  ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘I just dumped Ricky - my boyfriend - and I’ve got to have someone to go round with. You can’t not have a boyfriend. Only pogs don’t have a bloke.’

  Carter arrived back in a flurry of kicked sand and asthmatic hurring. ‘Taxi’s waiting on the prom, Kelly.’

  ‘Coming. See ya then.’

  ‘Interesting couple,’ Annie remarked once they were both out of earshot. Her eyes were closed and I thought she’d been dozing. ‘Where’d you meet them?’

  St Biddy’s. My legatee hunt. Oh, hell!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve left the damn bike there. I’d forgotten all about it. I wonder if Luke’s found it.’

  ‘Who’s Luke?’

  ‘A would-be film producer with a car to die for who gave me his phone number. He wants me to have a drink with him.’

  ‘Short, ugly and married?’

  ‘Tall, gorgeous and available.’

  ‘Well, haven’t you struck the jackpot lately.’

  ‘After yesterday’s farce, I’d say it was more like the booby prize.’

  ‘Now don’t get all bitter and twisted on me. It’s very ageing.’ Annie extracted her mobile from her bag. ‘You know what they say about getting back on a bike after a fall.’

  ‘You could have put that more delicately.’ But perhaps she was right. One louse did not a lice convention make. I punched in the number quickly, before I could lose my nerve. The phone rang distantly while Annie browsed through the useless snaps ‘Rainwing’ had foisted on me. Eventually Luke’s mobile message service clicked in. I left a message that I was still up for that drink and facetiously added I hoped he was being faithful to me - or else.

  ‘Looks like we’re both going to be pogs - whatever they are,’ Annie said, locking her phone again. Before she’d finished, it rang. Her face changed as she listened to the caller. She was scrambling up, banging sand grains off her bottom, before the call had finished.

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘It’s Zeb. Something’s happened. I have to go.’ She ran for the promenade steps.

  ‘Do you want company?’

  ‘No,’ she shouted back. ‘I’ll call you.’

  My birthday supper wasn’t quite the same on my own. Although Shane did his best to make up for the deficiency by letting me choose the evening programme on the jukebox. And I had my presents to open, and a stack of belated cards. By the time I wandered home past the neon-lit arcades, with their whistling game machines, and the distant throbbing rhythms and excited screams from the amusement park rides, I was in a mood to love the whole world.

  It lasted until I manoeuvred my way carefully down the outside basement steps, trying not to drop my genuine Elvis statue that jigged to ‘Jailhouse Rock’ when you clapped your hands (Shane’s present). The rawer wood where they’d used a chisel stood out as a light patch against the dark paint. Cautiously, ready to jump aside if they were behind the door, I nudged it ajar with one foot. I felt for the light switch - and experienced a sense of deja vu. It was like revisiting the offices once more - with one exception. In the midst of my trashed living room was a short, muscular bloke, blinking in surprise at the sudd
en light.

  I decked him.

  16

  He was the owner of the local plant centre, delivering my sister’s birthday present.

  It had been overlooked in their order book, and rather than let me be disappointed for a further day, he’d made a special out-of- hours trip. He was quite reasonable about the situation once I’d picked him up, stuck a wet tea towel over the blossoming bruise and re-righted a chair so he could sit down. His cutie-pie voice sat at odds with his burly yob appearance of bulging biceps, gold earring and oil-slick hair.

  ‘The door just swung open when I touched it. I was so surprised. And I thought I’d just tiptoe in and leave it inside because ... well... one just never knows who might want to steal such a scrumptious arrangement.’

  I stared at the round wooden tub the size of a truck tyre bristling with a collection of weirdly spiky-leaved, needle-sharp vegetation that looked like it had escaped from a 1950s B-movie of The Cabbage that Ate the World variety. ‘Is this my sister’s choice? Or all your own hallucination?’

  ‘It is exactly as specified, I promise. Tierra Caliente succulents. Very fashionable this year. All the top interior designers are using them.’

  That explained it. She’d have seen them in Vogue or Tatler. My sister thinks those magazines are obligatory instruction manuals rather than leisure browsing.

  ‘Aren’t they just wonderful?’ my visitor cooed. ‘They’re so butch.'

  ‘You like them?’

  ‘I adore them.’

  ‘Then you keep them. Compensation for my thumping you.’

  ‘Oh, no. I couldn’t hear of it. Your troubles are greater than mine.’ He waved the blood-stained towel around the chaos. ‘I couldn’t deprive you of the one delightful thing in this terrible mess.’

  ‘You could. Honestly.’

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t. ‘I shall leave you in peace to call the police. Unless you’d like me to stay? For emotional support? This kind of thing can be so stressful.’

  I told him I thought I could bear up OK, thanks. And asked him if he had a business card. ‘You’ve been so great about this, I’d really like to recommend you to all my friends.’ (Besides, it wasn’t unknown for someone trying to break in to pose as a florist delivery. I’d done it myself.)