"The code's already been switched off."
"Try the lock."
Penelope fumbled around in her handbag before finding the keys to the heavy front door. She inserted the key but found it was already unlocked. "Christ!" she swore under her breath. "It looks like we've been burgled."
"I think we should call the police," Shona suggested. The colour had drained from her face.
"Let's call from inside," Penelope pushed the door open and began to climb the stairs to the office.
"Pen, don't go in! It's too dangerous. What if they're still inside?"
"Don't be daft," Penelope rolled her eyes in exasperation. "They're obviously long gone, unless, of course they've decided to hang around and wait for us to make them a cup of tea."
"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Shona retaliated and reluctantly followed her friend upstairs.
They tentatively entered the reception area and surveyed the office. It was open plan so they could immediately see if anything had been stolen. "Well, Mark's computer's gone," Penelope announced.
"The Sony laptop's missing too," Shona said.
"Rebecca's favourite Jack Yeats' painting has been stolen too. She'll be upset when she finds out they're gone. Her father gave them to her before he passed away."
"I'm calling the police," Shona announced. She picked up the telephone and rang the number to their local police station.
Detective James Leary went to investigate. Burglaries were not an unusual occurrence in Dublin, which, like other cities and big towns in Ireland, had been plagued by burglaries in recent years, especially in the aftermath of the economic downturn. Greedy criminals were even more anxious than ever to get their hands on valuables and make some quick money. He arrived at M&R Photography expecting to find a typical break-in scenario awaiting him but he quickly realised that it was not a random burglary. Immediately, his suspicions were aroused.
"There are no signs of a break-in," he said, carefully watching the reactions of Penelope and Shona.
"It seems the person who entered your office had keys and knew the alarm code, which was deactivated at 9.24 p.m. last night. Where were you both at the time?" He flipped open a blank page in his notebook and began to write.
"What is this?!" Penelope cried. "Don't tell me you think that WE were involved?"
"I don't know what to think until I carry out further investigations," the detective replied. "Can you tell me where you were at 9.24 p.m. last night?"
"We were together," Shona piped up quickly before Penelope had a chance to fly completely off the handle. "We share an apartment together in Ballsbridge. We have the penthouse at Riverside Towers."
"Can anyone verify that?"
"Yes, Mr. Evans, the concierge saw us arriving."
"I see," the detective continued his note-taking. "Has anything been taken?"
Shona gave him a list of the stolen items.
"I'll dispatch our Crime Scene Unit who'll further investigate the closed circuit television footage," Detective Leary advised. "I'm assuming you'll be here until this evening?"
"Yes," Penelope agreed. "We usually close at six o' clock, but we planned on finishing earlier this afternoon, maybe around half past four. We were going to drive to Westport for the weekend. Is it okay if we continue our business as usual?"
"Yes, that's absolutely fine. The team should be here by lunch time. If you think of anything else please don't hesitate to contact me."
"Thank you," Penelope smiled weakly and walked him out.
Shona surveyed the mess. The usually pristine office was in total disarray. Paperwork and photographs were strewn everywhere and the contents of drawers and cupboards had been flung unceremoniously all over the floor. She didn't even know where to begin, so she decided to make herself an extra strong coffee instead.
"Well, a burglary is the last thing I expected on a Friday morning," Penelope groaned.
"It certainly isn’t a great start to the weekend," Shona sighed and stirred more sugar into her coffee. “You know what they say; bad luck comes in threes, so I wonder what else is going to happen today.”
“That’s just ridiculous superstition.”
“We’ll see,” Shona said ominously.
"I don't know how you drink such strong coffee. It looks like treacle!" Penelope decided to change the subject.
"I need it, trust me." Shona took a loud sip of her drink, as if to prove her point.
"I don't understand who would be interested in burgling a photography business,” Penelope mused.
"You're joking, right? The burglars probably assumed we had expensive equipment and cameras here. Luckily Mark locked all his gear in the safe before he left for France. Besides, they did quite well; collectors would pay a lot for the paintings."
"Are you certain you set the alarm last night before we left?"
"I'm one hundred per cent positive," Shona insisted.
"I don't understand. There were no obvious signs of a break-in; whoever did the job must have had a key and known the code. There are only four of us who have that information; Rebecca and Mark are in France and we were together, so who the hell did it?"
"Let's leave it to the police to find out," Shona advised her friend. "We've got lots to do before we finish for the weekend." She drained the last of her coffee and began the mammoth task of tidying up.
"I agree with you, James," Detective Dan Connolly of the Crime Scene Unit confirmed his colleague's suspicions that the burglary at M&R Photography was not a random break-in. "We couldn't find anything substantial of an evidential nature. The closed circuit television footage of the immediate area showed that the camera at the side of the building where the office was located was disabled. Two other cameras showed a car entering the area at 9.22 p.m. and parking in front of the office. However, it was impossible to see who was in the car or even how many people were there."
"It's strange," Detective Leary was thoughtful. "Only four people had the access code and keys and every one of them can account for their whereabouts last night."
"I'm sure something will turn up," Detective Connolly said. "It usually does."
"I'm knackered," Shona yawned loudly as she hauled her suitcase out of the car. The drive to Westport had taken longer than usual due to a serious accident on the motorway.
"Yeah, me too. I couldn't be bothered going out tonight. Why don't we order a pizza and share a bottle of wine instead of going into town?"
"Great idea." Shona dropped her bags in the hall and switched on the central heating.
"It's cold," Penelope shivered and went in search of a bottle of wine. "You'd never think it was almost the end of April. I wish I was in France sunning myself on Rebecca's yacht right now."
"I don't, not if we had to put up with Mark's presence." Shona poured two large glasses of the wine which Penelope had conveniently found in the refrigerator.
"Actually, forget it. It'll be lovely and cosy here in a short while once the heating gets going." Penelope dug about in the freezer until she found her favourite pizza; pepperoni and cheese.
"Is there anything entertaining on TV tonight?" Shona asked, flicking through the channels.
"Yes, stop right there! X Factor repeats," Penelope demanded.
"Do we have to watch it?" Shona groaned.
"Oh come on! How can you possibly resist? It's trashy television at its very best! Anyway, who needs to go out when we can spend our evening with the hunky Simon Cowell. Now he's the man for me," Penelope grinned.
"Oh my God! Simon Cowell?" Shona flung a cushion at her friend incredulously. "He's such a cliche."
"He's a very rich cliche. Besides, he's got that provocative mix of power and money with a whole lot of bad boy thrown in for good measure. He's irresistible; my ideal man."
"I think you need your eyes tested! Have you seen how high he wears his trousers? And he's always got the same t-shirt on. You'd think with all his riches he’d hire a stylist. It just proves that money can't buy taste."
>
"Well, I think he's perfect," Penelope stared dreamy-eyed at the television screen while Shona poured herself another large glass of wine.
"Hello," Shona picked up her mobile phone sleepily. She'd dozed off shortly after X Factor had started. Simon Cowell's charms hadn't been enough to keep her awake.
"I believe you've lost a few computers," a woman's voice on the other end of the line replied.
"Yes," was all Shona could manage to say in response.
"I'll be at your house in five minutes," and with that the caller hung up abruptly.
"Who's that calling at this hour of the night?" Penelope glanced at her watch. It was after midnight. "We weren't expecting any visitors were we?"
"No, but it seems someone’s on their way," Shona replied.
Penelope stared in concern at her friend's ashen face. "Shona, what's wrong? Who was that on the phone?"
"I don't know but she said she'd be here in five minutes to talk to us about the stolen computers."
"What?!" Penelope sat bolt upright. "Who the hell is she?"
"I have no idea, Pen, but this is getting creepy." She looked like she might burst into tears at any minute. "I think we should call the police."
"Maybe it's a hoax," Penelope suggested, searching for a plausible explanation. "I don't think anyone will show up here, not tonight anyway. It's too late."
"I don't know," Shona was doubtful. "She sounded like she meant what she said."
The shrill ringing of the front door bell made them jump. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this one way or another," Penelope got angrily to her feet and stalked out of the room. "I refuse to be intimidated in my own home!" She marched to the front door with Shona following close behind her.
"Can I help you?" Penelope asked, flinging open the door. She quickly took in the petite blonde woman who was standing in front of her and her heartbeat began to return to normal. The woman looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly. She was very pretty and her long blonde hair cascaded around her narrow shoulders. A silver-grey silk scarf was tied in an intricate knot over her expensive chocolate-brown leather jacket. Her jeans were tucked into knee-high tan stiletto boots and a large matching handbag was slung over one shoulder. There was nothing in the least bit intimidating about her. She looked baby-faced and both Penelope and Shona began to relax.
"Yes, actually, I think you can help me," the woman replied. She spoke with an English accent, possibly from the London area, Shona figured. Shona had spent a few years working in Solihull, which was near Birmingham’s city centre and her ear was still attuned to their different intonations. "My name is Savannah. I believe this belongs to you." She removed the missing laptop from her handbag and handed it to Penelope who stared at in surprise.
"Where did you get this?" was all she could manage to say.
"It was stolen from your office last night," Savannah replied. “Do you have any enemies?” She asked, arching an eyebrow. Penelope was too stunned to respond. “It seems you've messed with the wrong person, because somebody wants you dead.”
Shona and Penelope listened in abject horror as Savannah told them there was a contract on their lives and the life of Rebecca McNamara. She advised them that the contract was worth one hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling but that she wouldn't carry out the hit if they bought out the contract.
"How do we know this isn't some elaborate story you've invented to extort money from us?" Shona asked.
Savannah showed them a photograph of the three women. Shona's blood ran cold and Penelope almost collapsed at the sight of it.
"Where did you get this information?" Penelope demanded, snatching the photograph from Savannah's hand.
"I'm not at liberty to reveal that information just yet."
"I'm calling the police," Shona turned and walked back inside.
Savannah marched quickly down the drive and jumped into a taxi which was waiting for her at the gate.
"What the hell was that about?" Penelope cried. "What's going on around here?"
"I have no idea but I’m calling the police.”
It was 2.30 a.m. when Shona's phone rang again. Her heart almost exploded out of her chest with the fright. Neither of them had been able to sleep and they were sitting in the kitchen drinking endless cups of sweet tea. Shona stared at the phone. The caller's number was blocked and Shona was too scared to answer it.
Penelope grabbed the phone. "Hello!" she snapped.
"Have you started getting the money together?" Savannah asked.
Penelope took a deep breath to steady her nerves and exactly as Detective Leary had earlier advised she told Savannah she’d need some time to organise the cash.
"Good," Savannah sounded pleased. "Meet me at the bus station tomorrow afternoon at two o' clock."
"I'll meet you at the bar of The Westport Hotel," Penelope said decisively. Detective Leary had recommended that this would be the best location if Savannah suggested meeting. It was close to the police station and it would also be much easier to organise a surveillance operation at the hotel than at the bus station.
"I'd like a small white wine please," Penelope perched herself on a stool at the bar and glanced nervously around the room. Detective Leary had put several plain clothes police officers in place in a three hundred and sixty degree circle around the hotel. Two female officers were sitting within view of Penelope but she couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by the surreal situation in which she found herself. Who on earth hated her so much that they were willing to kill her? What was the connection between her and Rebecca and Shona? She and Shona had stayed up most of the night trying to make sense of what was going on but it was impossible. They'd tried contacting Rebecca in France to warn her but she wasn't answering her phone and she hadn't returned any of their calls.
Shona was so frightened that she'd contacted Westport Security Services first thing that morning. Penelope had tried to calm her but Shona had insisted they needed to take steps to protect themselves. "First the office is mysteriously burgled, with no apparent signs of forced entry and now someone has made a threat on our lives!" Shona cried. "How much more serious is it going to get?" Eventually, Penelope had agreed and they'd contacted Ronan Kelleher of Westport Security Services to discuss bodyguard arrangements. He'd agreed to meet them the following morning to arrange their protection and it couldn't come fast enough for the two women.
Penelope placed her handbag carefully on the counter. The money which Savannah had demanded was sealed in a brown envelope inside. She sipped her wine and waited. The hotel was very busy and the bar was quickly filling up with weekend revellers. People were ordering their drinks and chatting and laughing with friends. Everything seemed so normal, just like any other weekend afternoon in many pubs and hotels around the country, but everything was far from normal for Penelope. She found it difficult to believe that life was continuing as usual.
"Hello," she grabbed her mobile phone and answered it on the first ring.
"Hi, this is Savannah. My colleague will meet you to count the money. He'll be in the lobby of the bathroom in five minutes." She abruptly hung up without even giving Penelope a chance to respond.
Penelope immediately telephoned Detective Leary who was standing outside the hotel, a few metres away. He advised her to meet the man in the lobby as arranged.
She drained the last of her wine, figuring that she needed as much courage as possible. Her heart was pounding as she slowly walked to the lobby. She was a nervous wreck and her hand trembled as she clutched her handbag close. A tall, dark-haired man approached her. She’d seen him walk past her in the bar a few minutes previously. He was in his late thirties and was dressed head to toe in black. Daniel Williams looked every inch the gangster with his black suit and shirt and his trademark metal aviator sunglasses. Penelope noticed the strong smell of cigarette smoke from him and when he spoke his teeth were badly stained with nicotine. They stood in the small carpeted lobby between the glass doors leading to the bar and front desk.
Penelope could see the reception area to her right and muffled behind the doors people going about their business completely unaware of the covert operation going on in their midst. She later described the meeting at the hotel as having an eerie quality and felt she was in the presence of someone who had no respect for human life.
Daniel didn't waste any time. "Do you have the money?" he asked, looking Penelope up and down.
"Do you have the computer?" Penelope retorted, staring defiantly into his close-set green eyes. She drew herself up to her full height of almost six feet tall and squared her shoulders. It was an act of bravado which she certainly didn't feel.
A police officer in plain clothes walked past the lobby at that moment and Daniel hastily took off. He didn't notice the police officers who followed him from a discreet distance. Savannah came out to meet him; from where she was sitting she could see him leaving the hotel. “We've got to get out of here,” Daniel said, without stopping. Savannah quickly fell into step beside him and they walked hurriedly towards their rented car which was parked a short distance away. They stopped at a public telephone box and Savannah once again rang Penelope, desperately trying to salvage something from what was rapidly becoming a very expensive trip for nothing. “What the hell are you playing at?” Savannah hissed down the phone. “Why didn't you hand over the money as we'd arranged?”
“No computer, no money,” Penelope promptly retorted and hung up the phone. She leaned against the wall for support, suddenly feeling quite weak. Then she went back to the bar and sat in a quiet corner by the fire, trying to compose her thoughts.
"You did very well," Detective Leary smiled at her, making her jump.
"That was probably the most frightening moment of my life," Penelope replied. "What happens next?"
"We'll be in contact with you over the next few days," Detective Leary advised. "Come on, I'll give you a lift home. You look like you could do with a strong cup of tea."
Unfaithful (The Complete Trilogy) Page 26