‘You don’t sound Australian,’ Ray said dubiously.
She put that right at once. ‘Don’t I, sport? I’ll just have to do something about that then, won’t I? Can’t have the natives doubting my story, can I?’
He gaped at her accent, which, to his ears was as authentic as that of Rolf Harris. Ray was an avid viewer of Animal Hospital.
Alex laughed. ‘Just one of my little skills,’ she said lightly. ‘You want I should be South Aaaaafricaaan instid?’ she added exaggeratedly. ‘Or maybe Jam-ai-can, man!’
As he started to giggle in a very unmasculine way, she quickly tired of trying to impress him. Why bother, anyway? It was the Wilkins brothers who needed to believe she was who she said she was.
She didn’t have to do it this way, of course. She could just go straight in there and tell them she was doing a little digging on Jane Leng’s behalf. But caution stopped her. From what she had noted from Gran Patterson’s scrap books, those burly, aggressive-looking young boys — she ignored the word thug — were businessmen now, and might not take kindly to having their past investigated.
‘By the way, have you seen Phil lately? Phil Cordell?’ she asked Ray.
It was just a casual question, no more. Just to make conversation and to wipe that moon-struck expression from his face. But she hadn’t expected the smile to slip or his perpetual blush to take on momentous proportions.
Christ, the two of them weren’t gay, were they? Phil certainly didn’t look that way, but that was the daftest assumption anyone could make. Gay people didn’t come bar-coded like something in Sainsbury’s, any more than anyone else did.
‘I haven’t spoken to him lately,’ Ray stuttered.
‘Oh well, it doesn’t matter. It’s just that I thought I might have heard from him by now. But you don’t need to look so embarrassed, Ray. What you do in your own time is no concern of mine.’
His blank look was one of total incomprehension, and assured her that no, there was nothing going on between him and Phil Cordell of a sexual nature. She grinned at her own words. Actually, they weren’t hers at all, but the kind of whispery ‘Les Dawson’ aside that her Aunt Harriet used whenever there had been something in the Radio Times she didn’t approve of on TV that night.
‘So let’s go,’ she said briskly to Ray now. ‘Are you all set?’
‘I think so. I’m just a friend of a friend, showing you around Bristol, and you’re Steven Leng’s Australian cousin. Is that right?’
‘Ten out of ten,’ Alex told him, pushing dark sunglasses on to her face.
He had proved his worth in the computer stakes again too, finding a map website on the Internet, zooming in and pin-pointing exactly where they had to go to find the Wilkins Haulage Company, before downloading it and printing it out.
Alex was sure she could have found it just as easily with the A to Z, but it didn’t hurt to allow Ray the pleasure of proving what he could do with an Internet website. He didn’t have much else going for him, and she doubted that the bouncy Mavis Patterson would have given him more than a second glance, if that.
*
Wilkins Haulage Company was some way out of the city on the road to Backwell, and then they had to drive some distance off the main road, through narrow country lanes to where they could look down on a huge water-filled quarry pit a little distance away from the main yard and some impressive office buildings.
No wonder it was well away from habitation, thought Alex, or there would surely be complaints from residents. Half a dozen lorries were parked in the yard or making their way to and from the quarry itself, and there was a general air of bustle and success. The noise of quarrying was deafening, and even looking down on the scene from the road above, dust rose everywhere, making Ray cough and wheeze like an octogenarian, and forcing him to take several undignified sucks on a blue asthma inhaler.
‘Sorry,’ he gasped. ‘I’ll be OK in a minute.’
‘Take your time, Ray, and tell me if you’d rather stay in the car while I go and speak to these people. I don’t want you expiring on me.’
For a moment he looked torn between longing to be in on the action, and dealing with the effects of the atmosphere on his lungs. Alex decided for him.
Besides, it was her show, she reminded herself, and if he wasn’t feeling up to scratch, he might be more of a liability than an asset.
‘It’s going to be worse when we get down to the yard,’ she said. ‘So you stay in the car with the windows closed, Ray.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ he wheezed.
‘I’m sure,’ she said.
But before she left him, she got out and took some pics of the whole area for reference. Then she got back in the car and cruised down to the yard, parking in the lane outside. There was no point in being too conspicuous before she knew the kind of reception she was going to get. God knows how those big lorries ever managed to manoeuvre their way through these lanes, but they obviously did. She’d found it hard enough not to scrape her precious Suzuki.
She left Ray still hunched up in the passenger seat, and only glanced back to see that he was all right as she reached the open gates of the haulage yard. By then, he was obviously feeling marginally recovered, well enough to be talking to somebody on his mobile phone, anyway. Probably his mum, Alex thought.
Then she forgot all about him, and remembered she was supposed to be Steven Leng’s brash Australian cousin, who was interested in meeting his old friends for an article she was writing for a small local magazine. Pommie-based articles were always welcome for ex-pats and their descendants, she thought, throwing herself into the role and practising her line of patter.
‘Are you looking for somebody, Miss?’ a male voice asked her as she walked towards the office building.
She turned around and faced the man. He was dressed casually smart, and was obviously no lorry-driver or quarryman, and she didn’t need to think twice to know that this was one of the Wilkins brothers. She had seen their photos, and recognized the aggressive, bull-headed looks at once.
‘Gee, I hope so after coming all this way,’ she said, with an ingenuous smile and lifting her voice on the last word. ‘I’m looking for either David or Clifford Wilkins.’
‘Well, you’ve found him. Clifford, that is. You’re Australian, aren’t you? I’m afraid we don’t deliver that far,’ he said, with a grin at his own joke.
Alex laughed back. ‘No, that’s not it. I was hoping you could give me a little background information on a cousin of mine. I never met him, as my folks emigrated to Australia just after I was born, but I gather he was an old mate of you and your brother’s.’
‘Really?’ He gestured for her to walk alongside him, and they moved towards the office. ‘Well, we’re always ready to help a pretty lady, so what’s your cousin’s name?’
‘Steven. Steven Leng.’
Cliff Wilkins stopped walking at once, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Alex. ‘That’s a name I haven’t heard of for years. What’s your interest, Miss?’
‘I told you. He’s my cousin, and I’d like to know more about him for a sort of family history I’m compiling.’ She quickly revised her intention of calling it an article for a small local magazine. This was far more plausible, she hoped.
‘Didn’t your parents ever tell you what happened to him? I find that a bit hard to believe.’
As suspicion came into Cliff Wilkins’ eyes, she sensed that she was on dangerous ground. He might believe her accent, but he didn’t trust her. And people who didn’t trust someone who asked an innocent question usually had something to hide. You always had to think laterally in this business.
‘My parents fell out with the rest of the family years ago, which was why they went overseas. They never kept in touch with any of them after that.’
Out of the corner of her eye she could see another man approaching them from the office. The brother, David Wilkins, was even tougher-looking than Clifford. She was thankful she didn’t have Ray here a
s her so-called minder, she thought fleetingly. He’d have shrivelled at once.
‘What’s going on?’ David Wilkins asked.
‘The lady’s looking for information on Steven Leng,’ Clifford said baldly. ‘Claims she’s his cousin.’
After an imperceptible pause his brother spoke curtly.
‘Steven never had any cousins. You know that.’
And why did she think he was deliberately directing his brother at that moment?
‘I know it, but she doesn’t,’ Clifford replied. ‘So just who are you, Miss, and what do you want?’
They could be calling her bluff on a double-bluff. Alex had no way of knowing, and nor had she had the foresight to check up on whether or not Steven Leng had any cousins, damn it. But she couldn’t afford to back down now.
‘Well, he’d hardly have mentioned me to you, since he didn’t know I existed,’ she said sarcastically. ‘But look, I only wanted to meet some of his old mates and get to know a bit about him. If you can’t tell me anything, I’ve obviously got a duff lead.’
‘Yeah, I reckon you have,’ David snapped, not giving her an inch.
As they continued staring at her, Alex suddenly realized she hadn’t thought this through properly. Any minute now they were going to ask her where she had got the information that they were friends of Steven Leng’s. And how the hell could she answer that without giving the game away that she knew very well how Steven had disappeared on an abortive camping trip, in which these two were involved?
‘Well, thanks for your time, anyway,’ she said, edging away.
‘Hey, just a minute’ she heard one of them say aggressively.
Then there was a flurry of dust from one of their nearby lorries as the driver revved it up angrily, shouting that there was a bloody car with a bloody nerd sitting in it that was blocking the bloody lane and he couldn’t get out for his bloody delivery.
‘Sorry. It’s mine. Shan’t be a minute,’ she called to him.
She just managed to resist saying she’d remove the bloody thing and get out of his bloody way quicker than bloody blinking, while thanking God for Ray’s feeble presence inside the car.
The sooner she got away from here the better. Superficially she had got nowhere, but there was often more in negative responses than people ever realized. And she had got it all on the tape recorder tucked inside her fleece bomber jacket.
*
‘Any good? Did you get anything out of them?’ Ray asked, remarkably recovered from his wheezing attack, Alex noted.
‘Not much. Maybe. I don’t know yet.’
She was more concerned right now with backing up the car into a suitable passing space and turning it round, with the aggressive-looking Wilkins lorry bearing down on her and crowding her. She eventually managed it, and the lorry roared past, splattering her car with mud and dirt. Bastard.
‘Are we going back to the office now then?’ Ray persisted. ‘And are you going to tell me what they said? I saw you talking to them down there —’
‘Shut up, Ray, and let me think,’ Alex snapped.
His inane chatter reinforced her preference for working alone. There had to be thinking time after any encounter, whether it was helpful or openly obstructive, and the best time to do it was immediately after meeting people like the Wilkins brothers.
‘I’m only trying to take an interest,’ Ray said, affronted. ‘And if you want my opinion —’
‘Well, sometimes it’s best to just keep quiet ... What opinion?’
‘I’d say from the way they kept looking at one another, they definitely had something to hide,’ he said importantly.
‘Big deal,’ Alex muttered beneath her breath, and then she spoke out loud.
‘That’s very observant of you, Ray. And where do you suppose they disposed of the body? In the quarry pit, perhaps? Maybe that’s where they dump all their victims. Maybe they’re mass murderers on the quiet and we’re going to get the Queen’s commendation for exposing them.’
And God knows why she was taking it all out on him. He was such a wimp, and she had hardly got started on this investigation yet, so there was no need to feel so frustrated. She did, though. She couldn’t help the nagging feeling that this whole thing was a damn-good waste of Jane Leng’s money.
Bob’s too, she reminded herself. It was Jane’s half of Bob’s retirement money that was funding all this, and she wondered if he knew it yet — and what the reaction would be when he found out. Having had a sniff of his temper, she didn’t hold out much hope for Jane’s peace of mind when he did. She felt more than a brief unease on her behalf. She didn’t like the woman any more than she liked her husband, but she didn’t want to see any harm come to her either.
She realized Ray had said nothing for the last few minutes, and when she glanced at him she saw that his lips were clamped tight shut. From the side, he looked even more weaselly than usual, with his small hooked nose and his jutting chin. She had never noticed it so strongly before.
‘Oh come on Ray, don’t sulk,’ she said. ‘You know what my dad used to say? If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. In other words, don’t expect me to be sugary sweet to you all the time, because I won’t be. This isn’t school now. This is the real world, and there are some bloody awful people in it.’
‘I know. And my dad is already nagging at me to get out of it.’
Alex glanced at him in surprise now before giving all her attention to the road as another car’s hooter screamed out at her.
‘Up yours, fella,’ she muttered. ‘So what’s up, Ray? Are you tired of the job already?’
She found herself praying that he’d say yes, giving her a way out. There was something about the little weasel that she didn’t like, and if it wasn’t for his computer skills and accessing the Internet ... but, hell, she wasn’t an idiot. She’d watched him do it, and he’d taken pride in instructing her. She could always take a course to improve herself. Or she could ask Nick down again, and get him to show her the finer points, which would be far preferable.
‘Isn’t the job all you expected it to be, then?’ she asked Ray more gently.
‘It’s not that. It’s my dad.’
‘What about him?’ They had reached the main road now, and she could breathe more easily.
‘He says I’m nothing but a gofer, and he doesn’t like the thought of me working for a lady snooper. That’s his name for it, not mine,’ he added hastily. ‘But it makes things awkward at home. And now this thing’s come up.’
‘Like a wart, you mean?’ Alex asked, trying to make the poor goof smile.
‘No. A works experience vacancy in his office. He wants me to take it.’
‘And what do you want?’
‘I don’t know. I always thought insurance would be a good job, with plenty of advancement. It was only when Mr Cordell told me about you, and he was so keen for me to try for it that I thought it was such a good idea.’
‘I see.’ Philip Cordell clearly had more influence over him than she had given him credit for. It was a shame to play on his adoration like that. And for what? So that Phil himself could get any information about her investigations through Ray? The idea was so absurd she didn’t even bother to follow it up. Why on earth should he be interested in the Lengs, anyway?
‘Ray, if it’s causing ructions at home, then I think I should release you from our temporary arrangement. Providing it’s what you want as well.’
‘I think it would be best,’ he said, not exactly unhappily.
‘Then you can finish the day out, and we’ll call it quits. When we get back to the office you can take my film to the camera shop to get it processed. Just bring me back the receipt and some doughnuts, and we’ll have a cup of coffee and settle up and that will be that. And no hard feelings, OK?’
Chapter 9
So now she was without an assistant — and so soon. But if Ray was getting aggro from home, the last thing Alex wanted was another irate father descending on her. Rel
uctantly, she knew it was time she called Philip Cordell and told him what had happened. She owed it to him, since he’d put Ray on to her in the first place.
She left it until that evening, and his reaction was affable enough.
‘I’m sorry about that, Alex. Ray’s a nice enough chap, but easily led, and his father’s a big influence on him.’
Like you, she added silently.
‘Well, never mind. It didn’t work out, but thanks anyway, Phil.’
‘But was he any help to you while he lasted?’ Phil persisted with a laugh. ‘I know he can be a bit intense, but he means well. And maybe I can find you somebody else —’
‘No, please don’t do that,’ Alex said quickly. ‘If I decide an assistant’s necessary, I’ll go about it in my own way. No offence, of course. And yes, Ray was very useful when it came to the computer.’
‘That’s all right then. So how about another date?’
‘I’m really busy, Phil. Let’s leave it for now, shall we?’
She couldn’t really say why she didn’t want to see him again. Perhaps it was because she had felt almost pressured into going out with him that first time, pressured into knowing him. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to go out with him again. And when push came to shove — or even to pull back — she preferred to trust her instincts. They might not always be right, but they were all she had.
‘Fair enough. Give me a call when you’re less busy, Alex. And good luck with the case.’
She hung up, feeling unaccountably annoyed. And for no good reason she was also struck with doubts and a sudden fit of depression. What bloody case? So far it seemed to be leading her nowhere. Who the hell did she think she was, trying to solve a ten-year-old crime without even knowing if there was a crime involved at all? It was a tragic incident, to use the jargon of the fire service, and one that the police had handled satisfactorily all that time ago, and had now presumably wiped off their books.
Deadly Suspicions (Alexandra Best Investigations Book 3) Page 11