by Roberta Kray
Jess followed his gaze and said, ‘You spotting any useful body language, hun?’
‘Are you taking the mick, Vaughan?’
‘Just trying to be helpful.’
Ray Stagg left the table, went to the bar and got himself a drink. He stood there for a while, sipping on a Scotch while he surveyed his empire. Harry knew that with every minute that passed, Stagg’s wealth was accumulating. No wonder he looked so smug. For all the jackpots, for all the big wins, it was always the house that came out on top in the end.
Aimee Locke continued to deal. She didn’t look in Stagg’s direction again, but his gaze returned constantly to her. It was as if he couldn’t help himself. But then he wasn’t alone in that. A quick glance around the casino confirmed to Harry that half the men in the room were equally enchanted. There was something unique, something mesmerising about Aimee Locke.
Suddenly, without any warning, Stagg put down his glass, moved away from the bar and headed straight towards Harry and Jess. Seconds later he was standing over them, an oily smile on his face.
‘Mr Lind,’ he said. ‘How nice to see you again. It’s been a while.’
Not long enough, Harry thought. He gave Stagg a nod but said nothing.
‘I hope life’s been treating you well.’
Harry maintained his silence.
Stagg’s blue eyes hardened. He turned his attention to Jess. ‘And Ms Vaughan too. To what do I owe the honour, business or pleasure?’
‘Pleasure,’ Jess said, smiling back nicely. ‘We felt the urge to squander some money.’
‘And win a bundle too, I hope.’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘We don’t ask for miracles.’
Stagg’s smile faltered, but only for a second. The place was busy, the tables around them full, and he knew that the conversation could be easily overheard. Leaning in towards Harry, he said, ‘If I could have a word in private.’
‘Anything you’ve got to say, you can say it here.’
‘I don’t think so. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.’
Harry decided to go along with it. If nothing else, he wanted to know what was on Stagg’s mind. Rising to his feet, he looked at Jess. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘This won’t take long.’
She gave a nod. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ll be fine.’
Harry followed Ray Stagg across the casino and out through a staff door. There was a long, empty corridor beyond. Stagg walked briskly to the end of it and then turned right. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor.
‘Where are we going?’ Harry asked.
‘Somewhere we won’t be disturbed.’
‘If I was of a nervous disposition, that might worry me a little.’
Stagg ignored the comment. He didn’t even look over his shoulder. Instead he kept on walking until he came to the end of the corridor. Pushing against a metal bar, he opened a fire door that led outside. The cool evening air flooded in, along with the sound of the traffic from the street.
‘This is where we say goodbye,’ Stagg said. He turned towards Harry, his face hard and angry. There was no pretence now, no trace remaining of that veneer of charm. ‘Stay out of my club and stay away from her.’
Harry frowned, pretending not to understand. ‘Her? I don’t—’
‘Don’t even go there!’ Stagg interrupted fiercely. ‘You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing? You’re been watching her all night. Don’t even try to fuckin’ deny it.’
Harry didn’t. The casino was covered with tiny cameras fixed into the ceiling. Stagg must have been watching him watching her for the best part of the evening. ‘Well, she’s a beautiful woman. Kind of hard to ignore.’
Stagg leaned forward until his face was only inches from Harry’s. His breath smelled of whisky and cigarettes. ‘Stay away from her,’ he hissed again. ‘You go near her one more time and—’
‘And what?’ Harry asked. He stared defiantly into the other man’s eyes.
Stagg held his gaze, his face hard as stone. ‘Let’s just say I don’t like scumbag peepers spying on my employees. Get the message?’
‘Loud and clear.’
Stagg stood aside and gestured towards the open door. ‘Take a left and you’ll come to the front of the building. Your girlfriend’s waiting for you there.’
Harry didn’t move. He put his hands in his pockets and smiled. ‘Are you this protective of all your employees, or just the ones you’re sleeping with?’
‘Get out of here!’ Stagg’s features twisted with rage and two thin stripes of red appeared on his cheeks. ‘Get the fuck out of here while you can still walk!’
Harry laughed as he strolled out of the door. Seconds later it was slammed shut behind him. Quickly he headed back round to the entrance. Stagg’s reaction had already told him what he’d wanted to know – that his interest in Aimee Locke went far beyond the purely professional.
Jess was waiting for him on the corner of the street. Ah, still in one piece,’ she said as he approached. ‘I was starting to worry.’
‘Are you okay?’
She grinned. ‘Nothing damaged apart from my pride. First time I’ve been to a casino and I get thrown out. That’s a record even for me.’
‘Sorry about that.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. It was all done very discreetly.’
They started walking along the street towards where the car was parked. ‘Well, we’ve learned something tonight,’ he said. ‘Ray Stagg’s certainly looking out for Aimee Locke.’
‘Yes, but is it true love?’
Harry breathed in the night air and breathed out a sigh. ‘I wonder.’
43
It was Thursday morning, shortly after ten, and Jess was alone in the flat. She was sitting working at the table – or at least trying to work. No matter how many times she went through her Minnie Bright notes, the pieces still wouldn’t come together. All she knew for certain was that someone didn’t want the truth coming out.
Her mind drifted back to the previous night, to Aimee Locke and Ray Stagg and the buzz of the casino. The legacy of three Singapore Slings, even after a decent night’s sleep, was a small dull headache that nagged at her brain and made her thoughts sluggish. She wondered if Aimee’s husband was the guy she had seen hanging around outside the office last Friday, the man who had kept walking past, unable to make up his mind about whether to go in or not. Of course, once that step was taken, there was no going back. And once suspicion had rooted itself, it would grow ever deeper. That marriage, she was sure, was already doomed.
With a yawn, she turned her attention back to her notes. Clare Towney was the next person she had to see. She checked the internet for a number but wasn’t surprised to find it absent. The household was probably ex-directory. Her only other option, other than turning up unannounced, was to call her at work. But would that get Clare into trouble? Personal calls probably weren’t encouraged, and Jess didn’t want to alienate the girl before they even got a chance to talk.
She thought about it for a moment and then had another idea. She found the number for the Kellston branch of the supermarket and dialled. It was answered after a couple of rings, and she instantly put on her professional voice. ‘Good morning,’ she said briskly. ‘This is Jane Woods from Human Resources. Could I speak to Clare Towney, please?’
‘Oh, okay,’ a man said. ‘Just one moment. I’ll see if I can find her.’
Jess gave a sigh of relief. In her experience, claiming to be from Human Resources was a fairly safe bet when ringing any large organisation. No awkward questions about what the call was about or any nasty comeback on the recipient. It didn’t always work, but thankfully on this occasion it had.
A couple of minutes passed before a girl’s voice, small and tentative, came on the line. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi,’ Jess said. ‘Is that Clare?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry to bother you at work,’ Jess said. ‘I told the man who answered I was from head office but … well, actual
ly I’m a reporter. My name’s Jess Vaughan.’
‘Is this about—’ Clare stopped abruptly. ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s about your uncle, Donald Peck. I have some new information and I’d like to discuss it with you.’ Fearing that she might hang up, Jess quickly added, ‘I talked to Ralph Masterson yesterday and he was very helpful.’
‘I don’t see how I can …’
Clare’s voice trailed off and Jess smartly filled the gap. ‘I think you’ll be interested in what I’ve got to say. How about this afternoon, after you’ve finished your shift? It won’t take long. I could come to your house. Palmer Street, isn’t it? What time would be good for you?’ Jess knew that she was railroading her, but she was also aware that this might be the one and only opportunity she got to secure the interview.
There was a silence, as if Clare Towney was trying to decide what to do or say next. Jess plunged in again, eager to persuade her. ‘Look, what I’ve found out could change everything. And I think you have the right to know about it first.’
‘All right,’ Clare eventually said, albeit without much enthusiasm. ‘Come over at two o’clock.’
‘Thank you.’ Jess asked for the number of the house and scribbled it down. ‘I’ll be there.’ She said her goodbyes and hung up.
Sitting back, she pondered on what approach she should take when they met. Clare Towney had every reason to be angry and resentful about what had happened in the past. She and her mother had been made to suffer for someone else’s crime. Over fourteen years, rage could easily build up and resentments could fester. Donald Peck may or may not have been guilty of murder, but if the girls hadn’t encouraged Minnie to go into the house in the first place …
Jess recalled her conversation with Masterson and his sudden outburst about the ten-year-olds. His anger had been clear as day. Did Clare share his bitterness? Did she also believe that the girls had got off lightly? After having made a new life for herself, she had had to return to Kellston, to a community that had once rejected her. And what had she discovered when she’d got back here? That the girls who had abandoned Minnie Bright to her fate were all getting on with their lives, oblivious or maybe just indifferent to the damage they had caused. Well, all apart from Lynda Choi.
Jess was still pursuing this line of thought, wondering how she’d feel in the same situation, when she heard the door to the flat open. She looked up as Harry came into the living room.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Are you free at two o’clock? I’ve just spoken to Clare Towney. She’s agreed to a meeting.’
Harry pulled out a chair and sat down on the opposite side of the table. He was wearing his serious face.
Jess tried to deflect any imminent objections. ‘Hey, I know you’re not happy about it, but I’ve really got to talk to her. She’s got more reason than most to bear a grudge.’
‘It’s not that,’ he said. ‘I’ve just had Jeff Bryant on the phone.’
The name was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. ‘Who?’
‘From the Fire Service.’
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Apparently the guys from the Fire Investigation Unit have had a chance to take a closer look at your flat and … Well, it seems like you were definitely the target. The bedroom window, the one you couldn’t open, had been sealed from the outside.’
‘Sealed?’ Jess echoed weakly.
‘Some kind of industrial-strength adhesive, they think. It still needs to be analysed.’
Jess swallowed hard. Although she thought she’d come to terms with the fact that she was probably the intended victim, the confirmation still rattled her. She had a sudden flashback to the room filling with smoke, to her desperate attempts at escape. Her heart began to pump a little harder. She realised now that it wouldn’t have mattered if she had been able to open the grille – the window still wouldn’t have shifted.
Harry reached across the table and touched her hand. Are you okay?’
‘Sure,’ she said over-brightly. ‘I mean, we’d already guessed that the fire was meant for me, hadn’t we?’
‘Except there’s a difference between someone trying to scare you into silence and a full-blown murder attempt.’
‘Thanks for reminding me.’ Jess could see now how the killer had figured it would pan out. By starting a blaze in the hallway, a fire that would quickly spread to her flat, he or she would effectively block the exit from her front door and her living room. The only way out would be through the bedroom window, and so that had to be sealed off too. They had, in effect, created a tomb for her.
‘The Hackney police will want to talk to you,’ Harry said. ‘We could go now if you like. Do you feel up to it?’
She lifted and dropped her shoulders. The last thing she wanted was another conversation with the cops, but if it had to be done, she’d rather it was sooner than later. ‘I suppose.’
Harry gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll find out who did this, Jess. I’m sure they will.’
Jess gave a nod, forcing a shaky smile on to her lips. Although she didn’t share his level of confidence in the law, she still appreciated his attempts to reassure her. At a time like this, a girl needed friends she could rely on. ‘And then you’ll come with me to see Clare Towney?’
‘If that’s what you want.’
Jess sucked in a breath. The sensible, logical, self-preserving thing to do would be to drop all her enquiries into the Minnie Bright case … but she couldn’t. No matter how scared she was, it wasn’t in her nature to back away from trouble. She’d travelled too far down the road to stop the journey now. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It is.’
44
Harry drove Jess over to Hackney and stayed in the car while she went into the station to talk to the police. On the journey he had kept an eye on the rear-view mirror, making sure that they weren’t being followed. Now, as he waited, he had another good look round. Someone had tried to kill her once – it was probably only a matter of time before they had another go.
He pondered a while on the Minnie Bright murder, trying to figure out the missing piece of the jigsaw. It had all seemed so black-and-white at the time, but now, fourteen years later, shades of grey were starting to creep in. The past was swathed in secrets and lies, and at least one person was prepared to go to any lengths to keep it that way.
Harry got out his phone and made a call to Mac. He outlined the new evidence about the fire at Jess’s place and asked him if he could use his contacts to try and track down Hannah Bright, Minnie’s mother. ‘And maybe you could check if there are any other relatives around, aunts, uncles, half-siblings and the like.’
Mac heaved out a sigh. ‘You sure about this, Harry?’
Harry furrowed his brow in exasperation. ‘What, you think I should just drop it?’
‘I thought you were supposed to be investigating the damage to Sam Kendall’s car. And a few malicious notes. You start digging around in an old murder inquiry and you’re going to make enemies.’
‘Yeah, I know. You’ve already mentioned it. But I don’t see what other choice there is.’
‘There’s always a choice.’
‘Come on, Mac. Whoever torched Jess’s flat isn’t going to give up until they’ve finished the job. I can’t just turn my back on her.’
From the snort on the other end of the line, Harry could tell that Mac would be more than happy for him to do exactly that. ‘Okay,’ Mac said. ‘I’ll see what I can dig up. But do me a favour, right. The next time she tries to involve you in one of her investigations, tell her you’re busy.’
‘I’ll lock the door and bar the windows.’
‘Shame you didn’t do that last Friday.’
Harry hung up and put in a quick call to Warren. There was no news from Walpole Close. Aimee Locke hadn’t gone out, and only the cleaning woman had gone in. After being unceremoniously ejected from the casino last night, Harry had called it quits and returned to Kellston. The surveillance was probably a waste
of time now; Stagg would have tipped off Aimee and she’d know that she was being followed. Would she challenge her husband about it? He thought it unlikely. Better, surely, to keep quiet and let Mackenzie, Lind file a report that put her in the clear.
The sun was shining on the windscreen, making the car feel uncomfortably warm. He put the phone down, opened the window and rolled up his sleeves. A motorbike roared past, leaving a trail of exhaust fumes, and Harry followed its progress until it reached the end of the road and turned left. With less chance of getting snagged up in traffic, a bike was a good way to tail people in London.
Whoever was out to get Jess obviously knew where she was living now. The threatening call at the supermarket proved that much. But then it wouldn’t have taken too much brain power to track her down. Anyone who’d been following her movements over the past six days could have guessed where she would be.
Harry thought about Becky Hibbert, mercilessly strangled on the Mansfield Estate. Murdered because of what she knew, what she might tell, or for reasons completely unrelated to the Minnie Bright case? Valerie was clearly working along the lines of the latter option, but then she wasn’t in possession of all the facts.
He picked up the phone again and stared at it. After the coolness of their meeting on Tuesday, he was tempted to keep his distance. But he couldn’t let personal problems stand in the way of a murder inquiry. Reviewing the conversation in his head, he was aware that he hadn’t told her everything.
Valerie answered her mobile straight away. ‘Harry,’ she said, her voice edged with irritation. ‘What is it? What do you want?’
He was unsure whether the tone of her response was down to him or whether he’d caught her at a bad time. ‘I won’t keep you. I was just wondering how it was going. Any sign of Dan Livesey yet?’
Valerie hesitated, clearly unwilling to discuss the case with him. ‘We’re following up a number of leads,’ she said briskly, as if she was talking to a probing journalist.
‘Right. Only … only I think there are a couple of things you should know.’