Nell pulled a face. ‘You mean like hearing a man shouting, “Help! Help!”’
‘Yes,’ said Morag firmly.
‘Actually that’s not a bad idea,’ I said. ‘At least we can potentially rule out Selina being a kidnapper. If she has abducted Stevie, then her flat is the most likely place to keep him prisoner.’
‘I’m not up for this.’ Nell shook her head vehemently. ‘What if Selina turns out to be a kidnapper after all? What would happen if she unexpectedly showed up and found us peering through her letterbox? We’d be brown bread.’ She made a slicing motion across her throat.
‘Selina is at work,’ I pointed out. ‘We’re safe for hours.’
‘I don’t get a good feeling about this,’ Nell protested. ‘You two go. Leave Eddie and Henry with Rosie and me.’
‘We’ll take you up on that,’ said Morag. ‘If there were any danger – I said if Nell – then we certainly wouldn’t want the babies with us. Come on.’ Morag spun Henry’s pram around. ‘There’s not a moment to lose.’
Forty-five minutes later I stood in Morag’s bedroom. The bed was covered in a collection of wigs.
‘So tell me again what you use these for?’ I picked up an afro wig. It was like an early Jackson Five hair-do. Except in pink.
‘These are my sex wigs,’ Morag purred. She picked up a shoulder-length brunette jobbie. ‘Matt particularly likes me in this one. I wear it with these.’ She rummaged in a drawer and produced a pair of black geeky spectacles. ‘Et voila!’ Morag pushed the specs on her nose and plonked the wig on her head. ‘Now I’m Secretary Susie. Susie loves taking down dictation and her boss’s trousers.’
I picked up some waist-length blonde tresses. ‘Don’t tell me,’ I sighed. ‘Barbie.’
‘How did you know?’ Morag clapped her hands together gleefully.
‘Combined with your chest measurements, it doesn’t take much working out.’
‘Matt adores playing Barbie and Ken,’ confided Morag. ‘And I particularly like this one.’ She reached for a wild ringletty affair. It wouldn’t have looked remiss on Cher.
‘Pop icon?’ I asked.
‘Wrong!’ Morag trilled. She rummaged briefly in the drawer before slinging a stethoscope around her neck. ‘Does this give you a clue?’
‘Ah yes. Doctor Do-Anyone.’
‘Nope. Nurse Knockers!’ she smirked. ‘Nurse Knockers is very naughty. She wears an old-fashioned uniform with a hem line around her bum. She particularly likes using her stethoscope to check out pulse points near the penis.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake Morag.’ I snatched the wig from her. ‘We’re meant to be looking for Stevie, not playing dressing up.’
‘Au contraire.’ Morag suddenly looked grim. ‘If we’re going snooping, we need to be suitably disguised. I don’t think for one moment Selina will turn up. But she must have neighbours. If we bump into anybody, I want to be sure we look very different. So both of us are wearing wigs and specs.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly. Hurry up and choose one.’
I picked up the shoulder-length brunette wig and put it on my head. A few adjustments and it looked surprisingly passable. Picking up the geeky spectacles, I slotted the arms behind my ears. Good heavens. I didn’t recognise myself. Morag put on a dark heavily fringed number. She instantly morphed into Jessie J. Seconds later she’d teamed it with sunglasses and a trench coat.
‘Don’t you think the sunnies and mac are a bit obvious?’ I asked. ‘You look like Inspector Clouseau’s sidekick.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Morag. She belted the coat and stuffed her mobile in one pocket. ‘If anybody asks what we’re up to, we tell them we’re from the Council. Let’s go.’
With Morag behind the wheel, the drive to Blackheath didn’t take long. As the Galaxy swung between the gateposts to Selina’s apartment, I found myself pulling my coat collar up and putting my chin down. I hoped to God we were both right in assuming Selina would remain at work. The last thing we needed was her pulling another sickie and turning up here.
‘Okay,’ said Morag. ‘Let’s investigate.’ She grabbed an official looking clipboard from the backseat. It had been swiped from Matt’s office at the yard. The clipboard actually held various horses’ diet sheets. ‘Now remember. If anybody asks, we’re investigating a noise complaint.’
We slid out of the car. For a moment we stood uncertainly on the forecourt. Morag peered at me over her sunglasses, and then jerked her head at the building. I nodded and swivelled my eyes to the front door. Morag signalled her understanding. Suddenly joined at the hip, we shuffled as one to the entrance. My heart was starting to speed up. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. The wig was making my head feel uncomfortably hot. Seconds later my face had broken out in a fine sheen. The specs slid down my nose. I pushed them back up with one finger and looked at the door in front of us. It was a mix of wood and glass. It was possible to see inside the hallway. We peered in. The foyer was high-ceilinged and stylish. The floor was marble. An elegant wrought iron staircase swept upwards. Nobody was about.
And then a shadow fell across the doorway.
Chapter Twenty Three
‘Can I help you?’ asked a voice behind us.
Morag and I let out ear-splitting screams. If the residents hadn’t been aware of our presence before, they certainly were now. We spun round and came face to face with a tall silver-haired pensioner. He wasn’t unlike Victor Meldrew. Hell, this was all we needed. A nosy neighbour. Morag was the first to recover.
‘I’m so sorry. You rather startled us. We’re from the Council and investigating a noise complaint. We were asked to pay a visit by Miss Selina–’ Morag hugged the clipboard to her chest whilst pretending to consult it.’
‘Selina Hadley?’
‘The very one.’
‘That’s strange. Miss Hadley is rarely here these days. Although,’ he frowned in concentration, ‘I did see her recently. With a gentleman. But they didn’t stay long. She’ll be at work right now. I have her mobile number. Do you want me to call her for you?’
‘No!’ we trilled together.
‘Thank you,’ Morag said, ‘but that won’t be necessary. However, it would be helpful if we could go inside and listen for a bit before making an official report.’
‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem. And your name?’
‘My name?’ asked Morag.
‘Yes,’ said Victor. ‘It’s just for the purposes of Neighbourhood Watch. I’m the co-ordinator for this building. There are only three tenants here. But I always ask visitors for their name if a resident isn’t at home.’
‘Of course,’ Morag said briskly. Her eyes darted to the clipboard. ‘I’m Mrs Dobbin. And my colleague here is–’
‘Marple.’ I straightened up. ‘Miss.’
Victor nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He produced a notebook and pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. He wrote the names in carefully. ‘So that’s Mrs...Dobbin and...Miss...Marple.’ He snapped the notebook shut. A second later it had disappeared back inside the jacket. Fishing in another pocket, he produced a key and unlocked the entrance door. ‘After you ladies.’
We stepped over the threshold and strolled over to the centre of the hallway. Victor made his way to the only door on the ground floor. Clearly this was his apartment. However, he didn’t go inside. Instead he hovered.
‘Thank you very much for your help,’ Morag said dismissively. Victor inclined his head graciously. And stayed put. Bugger. Morag peered at her clipboard before addressing me. ‘It says here,’ she stabbed a finger at Dobbin’s feed proportions, ‘that prolonged industrial sawing is occurring within the premises.’
I peered dutifully at the clipboard. Dobbin was to have two scoops of bran, one of pony nuts and absolutely no oats whatsoever. ‘How utterly inconsiderate,’ I said to Morag. We appeared to be talking very loudly. And woodenly. As if on a stage. Victor would have no trouble catching what we were saying. ‘I suggest we stand very still a
nd listen.’ My voice bounced off the walls of the hollow hallway.
‘I quite agree,’ Morag enunciated.
‘I agree too.’
‘Good. So we are both in agreement.’
‘We are indeed,’ I articulated.
There was a pause while we stood, still as statues, and listened for prolonged industrial sawing. You could have heard a pin drop. I contemplated the floor. Rocked back and forwards on my heels for good measure.
‘I think I just heard something,’ Morag cried. She cupped one ear.
‘I think I did too,’ I shouted.
‘And it seemed to be coming from upstairs,’ Morag yelled.
Victor moved away from his apartment door. He walked carefully towards us, hands folded behind his back.
‘Mr Dawson lives upstairs,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s a retired school teacher. He doesn’t own a screwdriver, never mind an industrial saw.’
‘Nonetheless,’ Morag waggled a finger authoritatively, ‘we are duty bound to investigate. I insist Miss Marple and I check out the first floor.’
Victor looked at us without saying anything. Eventually he gestured toward the staircase. ‘Please, do go up.’
‘Thank you,’ said Morag. ‘Our investigation won’t be complete until we have also examined the top floor. Would you like us to let you know when we are finished?’ Morag stared unblinkingly at Victor. Her unspoken message was clear. Leave us alone.
Victor again regarded us silently. The seconds began to stretch towards a minute. I could feel my nerves starting to frazzle. Just when they were at screaming point, he cleared his throat. ‘I will be in my apartment.’ Victor indicated the door behind him. ‘You know where to find me.’
‘Indeed. We won’t be long. Come with me please Miss Marple.’
As Morag took to the staircase, I scampered along behind her. I risked a quick backward glance at Victor. He was in the process of opening his apartment door. Thank heavens for that. The man was an absolute nightmare. A professional busybody. We reached the first floor landing. And walked smartly past the door to Mr Dawson’s flat. The second flight of stairs was straight ahead. Fortunately the staircases and landings were carpeted. As we wound our way to the top floor, our footsteps were silent and stealthy. Suddenly we were standing outside the door to Selina’s apartment. I was feeling inexplicably edgy. A part of me was terrified the door would fly open. That Selina would swoop down on us like an avenging angel, her head rotating three hundred and sixty degrees. But the door remained shut. All was quiet apart from the thud-diddy-thud of my heart, and slightly ragged breathing from climbing two staircases.
Morag put one ear against the door. She listened intently. ‘I can’t hear anything,’ she whispered. ‘Shame these apartments don’t have letterboxes, otherwise we could peer into the hallway.’
‘Somehow I don’t think we’re going to find Stevie in Selina’s hallway,’ I sighed. ‘I know. Why don’t we knock? If he’s in there – but unable to get to the door – he could call out.’
‘Cass, I’m quite sure if Stevie was being held prisoner he’d be yelling his head off,’ said Morag.
‘Not,’ my eyes widened, ‘if he was bound and gagged.’
Morag shuddered. ‘Don’t say that Cass. That sounds horrible.’
‘Well that’s why we’re here isn’t it,’ I hissed, ‘because we suspect dodgy circumstances! Go on. Knock on the door.’
‘No, you knock on the door.’
‘Oh for goodness sake,’ I huffed. ‘We’ll knock on it together. After three. One...two...three.’
We rapped on the door and instantly sprang backwards, as if the wooden panels were red hot. It remained shut. No sound came from within.
‘Oh my goodness. Look,’ I pointed down the landing. I’d initially assumed it was a window set in the wall. In fact it was a glass door. A fire exit. ‘Let’s see if it’s unlocked. We might be able to peek into Selina’s apartment from a mezzanine platform or something.’
We scuttled over to the door and peered out. Sure enough there was an open steel floor that wrapped around one part of Selina’s apartment. It connected up to a series of staircases that criss-crossed all the way down to the communal gardens. A fire escape. We were at the rear of the building. I levered down the door handle. It creaked open. So much for Victor’s Neighbourhood Watch. Any wannabe burglar could simply jump the garden fence, climb the fire escape and walk right in. Cold air blasted our faces as we stepped out onto the platform. It was windy up here, and the long brown tresses of my wig whipped about. I put a hand up to stop the wig from taking off. Turning, I indicated that Morag should follow me. Together we eased our way along the platform. It ran straight past a window of Selina’s apartment.
‘That must be her kitchen.’ I indicated an extractor fan and vent set into part of the wall.
‘Let’s check it out.’
We darted across the platform and ducked below the window sill. Crouching down, we eyeballed each other anxiously.
‘Come up slowly,’ I said to Morag. She nodded by way of response. Together the pair of us peered over Selina’s window ledge and gazed into a modest kitchen. It was nothing like the contemporary granite and steel jobbie in Ethan’s penthouse. Plain white cabinets and a matching worktop ran the length of one wall. On the other side was a sink, washing machine and ancient fridge. In the centre of the kitchen was a small table with two chairs on either side. I pressed my nose up to the glass. Papers were scattered across the table. Three small bottles of liquid stood side by side. There were labels on them, but I couldn’t decipher the writing. They looked like the sort of bottles I had in my medicine cabinet at home, full of liquid vitamins for the children.
‘Can’t see anything unusual,’ I said. ‘Can you?’
‘Well, Stevie’s not in the kitchen that’s for sure.’ Morag stood up. Lowering her sunglasses, she peered through the window pane. ‘What’s that on the table?’
‘Vitamins I think. And notes of some sort.’
Morag stared hard. ‘Not vitamins Cass. I would hazard a guess it’s something medicinal. Something you’d get on prescription.’ She squinted hard. ‘I can’t read the label properly. Whatever it is, it begins with G. Let me take a picture.’ She whipped out her mobile phone and switched it to camera mode. ‘You never know, it might come in handy later.’
Another gust of wind tugged at my wig. ‘Come on. Let’s go. We’ve been on a wild goose chase. Stevie’s not here. Whoever sent that last text, it would seem we’re going to have to rule Selina out. I might mention it to Charlotte though. Just in case she can put her finger on anything. Perhaps she can go back to Stevie’s house. Have another look around for any indications of Stevie having an affair with a second woman.’ My stomach let out a growl of hunger. I’d had no breakfast and it was coming up to lunchtime. At least the earlier nausea had disappeared. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here and back to Nell’s. She can make us a couple of bacon butties.’ Suddenly I was ravenously hungry.
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Morag.
We clanked back along the steel platform. I pulled open the fire escape door and stepped back onto the carpeted landing. After being out in the bright winter light, for a moment I couldn’t see a thing. I blinked rapidly at the shadows and waited for my eyes to adjust. And when they did, my heart sank. Victor was standing there.
‘Ah. Miss Marple. Mrs Dobbin. I wondered where you’d both gone. So, did the fire escape yield any industrial saws whirring away at distressing noise levels?’
The sarcasm was unmistakable. I felt a rush of anxiety. Victor was giving off a bad vibe. I had a feeling we’d been rumbled. If Morag felt alarmed, she was doing a good job at hiding it. She peered into the gloom over the top of her sunglasses. Her eyes found Victor’s.
‘I am very pleased to report that no saws, industrial or otherwise, have been located. I’ve made some notes.’ Morag stood up to her full height and indicated the clipboard. ‘It’s all here, and I shall be reporting back to t
he Council immediately.’
‘Very good,’ said Victor. He was blocking our access to the stairs. ‘And what Council did you say you were from?’
‘I didn’t,’ said Morag crisply. My eyes had now fully adjusted to the internal light, and I was horrified to see Morag’s wig askew. Pale blonde hair poked out from the Jesse J hairpiece. ‘I merely said I was from the Council.’
‘Well I’m asking you now. Which Council?’
‘That is classified information,’ said Morag.
Suddenly Victor’s hand shot out. For a moment I thought he was going to hit Morag. Instead he grabbed her clipboard. His eyes scanned the equine diet sheet.
‘Cuthbert – two portions of hay, must be damped down. Bramble – bran mashes with a handful of sugar beet. Matt – sex food until further notice.’
‘Give me that.’ Morag snatched the clipboard back. ‘I’ll have you know this is a confidential report.’
‘Mrs Dobbin – if that is indeed your real name – I don’t know who you are or what you are doing here. But I will be giving a full account of your visit to Neighbourhood Watch. And the same information will be passed on to the police. It is quite apparent to me the pair of you are casing the building for burglary and–’
We didn’t wait to hear the rest of Victor’s suspicions. Morag shoved him to one side. Grabbing me by the hand, she yanked me after her. We fairly flew across the landing, and almost hurled ourselves down the entire flight of stairs. By the time we’d reached the ground floor, our wigs had flown off. I was aware of Victor coming after us. For an old boy he could certainly shift. But not as quickly as us. Morag shouldered the entrance door open and sprinted, hand out, key fob extended, to the Galaxy. She popped the central locking and we threw ourselves into the vehicle. The engine burst into life and tyres squealed as the vehicle shot backwards – nearly knocking Victor over in the process. Hell’s bells. That was all we needed. Not only arrested on suspicion of burglary but wanted for flattening a pensioner in the process.
Lipstick and Lies Page 23