by Roberta Kray
With her shopping finished, Jess stood on the pavement and wondered what to do next. She didn’t want to go back to the flat just yet. She felt too restless, her mind running once more through all the thorny complications of the Minnie Bright case. She was waiting for things to drop into place, for the fog to clear and the truth to be revealed. She had the feeling she could be waiting for a very long time.
Looking across the street, she saw the supermarket and had an idea. Perhaps Clare Towney was working there today. It was about time, she thought, that she put a face to the name. She had no intention of talking to her – she had promised Harry that they’d see her together – but a sneaky glimpse was hardly breaking her word.
Jess crossed over, jaywalking through the slow-moving traffic. Inside the shop, she picked up a basket and joined the throng. This high-street store was one of the smaller supermarket outlets, but it was still busy. As she wandered along the aisles, gathering a few random items – apples, bread, pasta, toothpaste – she glanced surreptitiously at the name badges of all the girls of a certain age who were stocking the shelves. By the time she’d completed three circuits, it was clear that Clare wasn’t around. Disappointed, she headed for the checkout, where two middle-aged women and a young, lanky bloke were manning the tills.
Jess had moved up to third place in the queue when her mobile started ringing. She put her basket on the ground, pulled the phone out of her pocket and checked the caller. It was an unidentified number.
‘Hello?’
‘Jessica?’
‘Yes,’ she said, pressing the phone closer to her ear and trying to identify the voice. It was male, but it sounded muffled, as if it was coming from a very long way away. Not Neil, though, and not Harry either.
‘How are you?’
‘I’m good,’ she said, playing along while she tried to figure out who it was. An old colleague? Someone she’d been talking to recently? ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you very clearly. It’s a really bad line.’
There was a rustling from the other end. Then silence.
‘Hello?’ Jess said. The queue shifted and she shuffled forward, using her right foot to move the basket. ‘Hello?’
‘Not much shopping,’ the voice said. ‘What’s the matter, babe, lost your appetite?’
She felt a jolt run through her. ‘What?’
‘Nice shoes, by the way. Black. That’s always a good choice.’
Jess whirled around, panic rising in her throat. Her gaze quickly raked the aisles for a man using a phone. She couldn’t see one. ‘Who is this? What do you want?’
There was a low, sinister laugh. ‘I want you to mind your own fuckin’ business, love. Do you think you can manage that?’
She could feel a cold sweat forming on her forehead. A sliver of ice slid down her spine. The man was here, close by, the man who had set fire to her flat and tried to kill her. Her first instinct was to run, but then her gaze darted to the wide glass windows. Maybe he was outside rather than in. Maybe he was waiting for her out on the street. Her fingers tightened around the phone. She said nothing. She couldn’t. Her throat had closed up and her lips were dry as parchment.
After a few seconds the voice came again, soft and menacing. ‘Be careful when you close your eyes at night, Jessica. You never know who’ll be there when you open them again.’
And then the line went dead.
For a moment she stood rooted to the spot. Her breath was coming in short, fast pants, her heart racing. And then the adrenalin kicked in. She couldn’t stay where she was. Abandoning the basket, she rushed out of the store and into the street. She looked left and right, scanning faces and examining the cars parked along the kerb. Where the hell was he? Still watching her, or already gone? Well, she wasn’t going to hang around to find out.
As she fled back towards Station Road, glancing constantly over her shoulder, another grim thought entered her head. What if he was waiting for her there? The front door would be open. He could walk straight in. She paused on the corner, racked by indecision. But where else could she go? Then her brain kicked into gear. No, he couldn’t get in without Lorna hearing him. It was impossible. The buzzer sounded as soon as the door was opened.
Jess set off again, jogging the last few yards to the entrance to Mackenzie, Lind. The carrier bag with the new shoes bounced hard against her thigh. She hesitated when she reached the door, fear scratching at her nerves. Then she swallowed hard and quickly pushed it open. She gazed up the staircase. It was empty. She listened, but couldn’t hear anything. She took a deep breath, went inside, closed the door firmly behind her and ran up the stairs.
Lorna was sitting at her desk, hunched over a pile of paperwork. She lifted her head as Jess came into the office, and smiled.
‘Hi, how are you?’
Jess’s heart was still thumping in her chest. ‘Good, thanks. Is Harry here?’
‘Sorry, love. He’s out for the afternoon. You can get him on the phone, though.’
Jess was tempted to blurt it all out, to tell Lorna what had happened, but she bit her tongue. She’d inflicted enough of her problems on the woman already. ‘Oh, okay. I’ll do that.’ She turned to go, then stopped. Before she went up to the next floor, she had to ask the question. ‘Er … no one’s come in here, have they? I mean in the last five minutes or so.’
‘No. Were you expecting someone?’
Jess shook her head, relieved. ‘Not exactly. I just thought … it doesn’t matter.’
‘Well, only Mac, but you didn’t mean him, did you?’
‘Mac?’ Jess repeated unsteadily. It came out as more of a croak than a query.
‘Yes, he just nipped out for a sandwich.’ Lorna frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Do I?’ Jess said, feebly attempting a laugh while her thoughts began to spin. So Mac had been out at the same time as the call had been made. How long had he been gone? It was hardly a question she could ask. And surely it couldn’t have been him. Why would he be threatening her? Except the voice had been so muffled, she couldn’t swear that it hadn’t been his.
Lorna gazed up at her, a quizzical expression on her face.
Jess backed away. ‘Sorry, my head’s all over the place at the moment. I’d better go. I’ll see you later.’
She dashed up the stairs, unlocked the door to Harry’s flat and then locked it behind her. For a while she stood very still, leaning back against the wood. Her legs felt shaky and her stomach was churning. Not Mac, it couldn’t be Mac. He might not like her – he’d made that pretty clear – but what reason could he have for warning her off? Except he was an ex-cop, and ex-cops had cop friends they might still be loyal to. If there had been some kind of a cover-up on the Minnie Bright case …
Jess waited until her legs had steadied before pushing off the door, dropping the carrier bag and her handbag on the table and going over to the window. She stood to one side, hidden by the curtain, and peered out, looking down the road towards the station and the Fox. Was paranoia starting to eat away at her reason? If Mac had only nipped out for a sandwich, he wouldn’t have had time to see her buy the shoes. It must have been at least an hour after that that she went on to the supermarket. Jesus, she had to stop jumping to crazy conclusions. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start suspecting anyone and everyone. And that, she knew, was the road to madness.
39
At six thirty, Harry took a shower, had a shave and then got dressed. He put on his grey Armani suit with a crisp white shirt and a red tie, ran a comb through his damp hair and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He frowned. Perhaps he didn’t need the tie. He took it off and opened the top button of his shirt. Then he wondered if the casino had a dress code. Deciding that it was probably better to be safe than sorry, he refastened the button and put the tie back on again.
On the off chance that Aimee Locke wasn’t going to work tonight, Warren James would stay in Walpole Close and follow her if and when she left. That w
ay they could be sure of not losing her. Harry could go straight to the West End, find somewhere to park and – so long as she was going to Selene’s – be there by the time Aimee arrived.
Not counting the Friday, it was three days since the surveillance had started, and to date there was not a shred of evidence that Aimee Locke was playing away. In fact she rarely left the house. Apart from her dinner with Vita Howard, she had gone out only once, and that was to do some window-shopping on the high street. There had been the visit from the crimper, of course, but Harry tended towards the opinion that if she was having an affair, she was unlikely to invite her lover to Kellston. Less risky, surely, to take the car and meet him somewhere away from the prying eyes of neighbours.
He was surprised that Martin Locke hadn’t called to find out what had happened on Friday. For a man who was convinced of his wife’s infidelity, and willing to pay good money to have her investigated, he seemed curiously uninterested in the outcome. But then again, he could simply be putting off the news – be it good or bad – until he returned from his business trip. There was nothing Locke could do while he was away, so perhaps he preferred to remain in ignorance.
Harry took one last look in the mirror, made a final adjustment to his tie and went through to the living room. Jess was already there, sitting on the sofa and flicking through a magazine. She stood up as he came in and his eyes widened in appreciation. She was wearing a simple but classy sleeveless black dress that showed off all her curves. His gaze ran the length of her body and lingered for a second on her feet and ankles. What was it about high heels that always set his pulse racing? He gave a low whistle of appreciation.
‘Very foxy, Ms Vaughan.’
‘Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.’
‘So, ready for a night on the town?’
She picked up her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. ‘Don’t you mean a night spying on some poor unsuspecting woman who has seriously bad taste in husbands?’
Harry grinned. ‘Well, that might be what I’ll be doing, but you’ll be free to squander all my money on the roulette table.’
‘And if I win?’
‘Then we split the proceeds,’ he said. ‘Fifty-fifty.’
‘It’s a deal.’
Harry locked up the flat and they went downstairs. Outside he beeped open the doors to the silver Vauxhall and walked around to the driver’s side. He got in straight away, but Jess stood for a while gazing along the street in the direction of the Fox. He glanced behind to see what she was looking at but couldn’t figure out what or who had caught her attention. It was just after seven, and the rush hour was over. Apart from a short queue at the bus stop, there was nothing much to see. A few seconds later she climbed in beside him.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked.
She hesitated, then gave a shrug. ‘It’s nothing. I just thought … It doesn’t matter.’
‘You still worried about that phone call?’ Jess had told him about what had happened in the supermarket. It was enough to freak anyone out, especially after what she’d already been through.
‘I suppose if nothing else it shows that I must be on the right track. Someone’s certainly worried about what I’m doing.’ She pulled her seat belt across and clicked it into place. ‘But I still can’t figure out how they even got hold of the number. I only bought the phone yesterday.’
Harry started the engine, checked his mirror and moved off. ‘Who have you given it to?’
‘You, Neil, Lorna, Sam.’ She furrowed her brow, trying to remember. ‘Oh, and Ralph Masterson has it too.’
‘You think he could be involved?’
‘Well I don’t think it was him on the phone, and I can’t really see him following me around Kellston. But I suppose he could have passed it on to someone else.’
‘Anything distinctive about the voice?’
Jess shook her head. ‘It wasn’t that clear, but I think it was a London accent. Not especially old or young.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘Which really narrows it down. A man somewhere between twenty-five and fifty-five who owns a mobile phone. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find, huh?’
Harry gave her a sideways glance. Despite all the bravado, he knew that she was shaken up. First the fire, and now this. ‘Maybe you should let the police know.’
‘What’s the point? There’s nothing they can do about it. I’d only be wasting my time.’
Harry shrugged. Although Jess hadn’t given any details, he suspected that her interview with Val hadn’t gone well. Which wasn’t that surprising bearing in mind his own frosty reception. Anyway, most of the police effort was currently concentrated on finding Becky Hibbert’s ex, Dan Livesey, and they simply weren’t interested in an unlikely link to the past. ‘So what about Masterson? Did he have anything interesting to say?’
As Jess was repeating her conversation with the old probation officer, Harry noticed how she kept glancing over her shoulder.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We’re not being followed.’
‘How can you be sure? I mean, with all this traffic …’
‘Because I’ve been keeping an eye out. Unless we’re dealing with professionals using two or three vehicles, there’s definitely no one on our tail.’ He heard her expel a light sigh of relief. ‘And don’t worry about the flat, either. We’ve got cameras being installed on the stairs soon. That way we can see everyone who comes in off the street.’
Jess frowned at him. ‘Not on my account, I hope. I’m okay. That call just … it just shook me up a bit.’
‘I know. But it makes sense to have more security about the place. Lorna’s often in the office on her own. She’ll feel safer with the cameras there.’ They hit a red light and Harry pulled up. While they were waiting, he returned to their earlier subject. ‘So,’ he said, ‘what’s your gut feeling about Ralph Masterson?’
Jess pulled a face. ‘Good question. He’s certainly angry and resentful, but whether he’d go as far as murder … I’m not sure if he’s capable of that. He didn’t want to talk about Stella Towney, though. He claimed they hadn’t been in touch since the trial.’
‘You think he was lying?’
Jess gave a nod. ‘For sure. But I don’t understand why.’
‘Maybe he’s trying to protect her. Maybe he thought that if he agreed to talk to you, if he gave you as much information as he could, then you wouldn’t go sniffing round Stella.’
‘Er, excuse me,’ she said. ‘I don’t sniff. I investigate and I report.’
Harry grinned. ‘My mistake.’ The lights changed and he shifted the car forward. ‘Well, maybe he just didn’t want Stella bothered, especially if what Maggie McConnell said is true.’
‘I’m hardly likely to go hassling a woman with Alzheimer’s. Give me some credit.’
‘I suppose he doesn’t know what you’re capable of. Some journalists – present company excepted – don’t have too many moral boundaries when it comes to rooting out a story.’
Jess glanced over her shoulder again, as if she simply couldn’t help herself. She saw him looking at her and smiled. ‘Sorry. It’s developing into a nervous twitch.’ She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then said, ‘I thought I might try and see Clare Towney tomorrow. Do you want to come along?’
‘Do you really think that’s a good idea?’
‘What, you coming along or my going to see Clare?’
‘The latter,’ he said. ‘I don’t imagine she’ll take too kindly to being doorstepped. I know I wouldn’t.’
‘Well, I’ll call her first. I won’t just turn up.’
‘And if she refuses to talk to you?’
Jess was saved from making a reply by an incoming phone call on the hands-free system. Harry pressed and released the button on the steering wheel. ‘Warren,’ he said. ‘Good news, I hope.’
‘Yeah, no problems. She’s in a cab and heading towards the West End.’
‘Great. Stick with her for a while just in case.’
&nbs
p; ‘Will do,’ Warren said. ‘I’ll give you a call if anything changes.’
‘Thanks. See you later.’ Harry ended the call, relieved that they hadn’t had a wasted journey. ‘Game on,’ he said as they joined the line of cars in Park Lane. ‘It looks like she’s going to work.’
The corners of Jess’s mouth twitched before her lips widened into a mischievous smile. ‘So you’re about to see the lovely Aimee Locke again. Is your heart beating just a little bit faster?’
In truth, Harry was looking forward to seeing Aimee again. He hadn’t had a glimpse since last Friday night at Adriano’s, and she had made quite an impression on him then. On the single other occasion that she had gone out, it had been Warren who’d been on surveillance. ‘If I didn’t know you better, Vaughan, I might think you were the one with a teensy-weensy little crush.’
‘In your dreams, sweetheart. Mind, if I was that way inclined …’
Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you mind? I’m trying to negotiate some tricky traffic here. I don’t need images like those running through my head.’
‘Admit it,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t kick the goddess out of bed.’
Harry wasn’t about to admit anything. The last time he’d mixed business with pleasure, it hadn’t ended well. Bones had been broken and people had died. A sudden image of Ellen Shaw, small and dark and vulnerable, rose into his mind. He felt a tightening in his chest, a squeezing of his heart. He might be a fool when it came to love, but even fools learned from their mistakes. On no account was he ever going there again.
40
Valerie had left Cowan Road at six and driven home to get changed. After taking a shower and doing her make-up, she’d spent the next half-hour trying to decide what to wear for her drink with Simon Wetherby. She’d been reluctant to think of it as a date, partly because of her confusing on–off relationship with Harry and partly because she didn’t want to ponder too much on what it would mean to embark on a relationship with someone new.