He stood up and went through to the main office.
“CC, I want you to find out all you can about the Medical Council decision that led to Conrad Stormont losing his licence.”
She looked up and nodded. Paolo had stopped himself from commenting when she came in this morning, but couldn’t help himself this time.
“I’ve got to know, CC. When you went to the hairdresser, what colour did you ask for?”
She grinned at him. “Incandescent Cerise, sir. Do you like it?”
“I don’t think it would suit me, but it…it’s…it’s…”
“Striking?” she asked.
Paolo laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly the word I was searching for. Any news on the fingerprints lifted from the crime scene?”
“Forensics picked up plenty of clear prints, but no matches on the database, unfortunately. Looks like our man hasn’t been in trouble in the past.”
“Hmm, we can also rule out all those professions where fingerprinting is compulsory. I suppose even negative information is better than none at all.”
He looked around the office. “Where’s Dave? I want him to come with me to re-interview the housekeeper.”
CC beckoned Paolo towards her desk and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s in the corridor with Rebecca. She came in a few minutes ago and asked him to go outside with her.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
Paolo settled down on the edge of CC’s desk. If there was a chance Dave and Rebecca could get together again, the interview with Mary Prentice could wait for ten minutes or so.
In the end, it didn’t take that long. Just moments later, Dave came in looking as if Christmas had arrived early.
“Will you just look at the soppy expression on his face?” CC whispered, grinning at Paolo. “There’ll be doing nothing with him until he comes down off that cloud.”
Paolo laughed and whispered back. “It’s good to see him looking happy again.”
“I’d say dazed was more the word, sir. Dazed, but in a good way.”
Dave wandered over to his desk, but Paolo called out to stop him from sitting down.
“Don’t bother getting settled, Dave. We need to go and re-interview Mary Prentice.” He turned back to CC. “I could put a string on his ankle and he’d float to the car like a helium balloon.”
Paolo heard CC’s soft laughter as he and Dave headed for the door. He had no intention of prying into whatever Rebecca had come to say. If Dave wanted to share, he would. Not that Paolo needed to be told the reason for her visit. It was obvious from the look on Dave’s face.
They walked down the stairs and out to the car park.
“You drive,” Paolo said. “We’re going to Mary Prentice’s home address. Parking’s difficult in that part of town. We might need your luck with finding a space.”
“Right you are, sir,” Dave said, patting his pockets for the keys, finding them in the last place he tried.
“Why do you always do that?”
“What?” Dave asked, opening the car door.
“You put your keys in your right-hand pocket, but pat every other one before you try the place where they are going to be.”
Dave grinned. “Habit. I never used to be able to find my keys, so I started putting them in the same place each time, but when my mind is on other things, I forget and go through the whole searching for them routine.”
Paolo pulled open the passenger door. “Well, do me a favour; make sure your mind isn’t on other things while you’re driving. I happen to have a date tomorrow night and I don’t want to miss it because you’ve driven me into a brick wall.”
Dave got in and started the engine. “Really? A date? Who’d have thought it!”
Paolo grinned at him. “That’s enough of that from you.”
After negotiating his way into the traffic, Dave glanced across. “Seriously, sir, I’m pleased for you. Everyone should have someone in their lives.”
Paolo felt a butterfly of anxiety flutter, but he suppressed it. Things would either work out with Jessica, or they wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to try to force the issue.
After twenty minutes they arrived at Constellation Road. A row of identical terrace houses, all with cars parked outside, stared back at them. The only sign of personality the houses expressed was in the different colours of the front doors. It seemed to Paolo that every shade of the rainbow, and all those in between, had been used by the residents. Funny, he thought, how we strive to be different, while also trying to fit in.
“Looks like even your luck isn’t going to get us a parking place,” Paolo said.
“Oh, I don’t know, sir. Look!”
Paolo glanced over to where Dave was pointing. The reversing lights shone from a car parked on the other side of the road. As they watched, the car was manoeuvred out of the space and driven away. Dave drove across the road and reversed in.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Paolo said, shaking his head. “You do it every time.”
Mary Prentice must have been looking out for them because her door opened before Paolo had time to use the gleaming ornamental brass knocker.
“Come in,” Mary said. “I’ve just put the kettle on for tea.”
She pointed to a door on the right-hand side of the small entrance hall.
“Go into the lounge and make yourselves comfy. I won’t be a minute,” she said, disappearing along the hall to the back of the house before Paolo could refuse the offer of refreshments.
As Paolo had expected, the lounge was tiny, but what came as a surprise was the choice of artwork on the walls. Images of a much younger Mary Prentice filled every available space. In most of them, clothing appeared to be an optional extra.
He and Dave settled into armchairs facing each other and Paolo was amused to see Dave’s attempt to look anywhere but at the walls. Paolo couldn’t decide whether Dave was relieved or mortified when Mary Prentice eventually came into the room, carrying a tray laden with cups and what looked like a homemade angel cake.
She smiled and nodded at the wall containing a massive blow-up of a naked woman reclining on a bed of crimson silk. “That’s me in my former glory days. You won’t believe it now, but I was much in demand as a model back then.”
“I’m sure you were,” Paolo said.
He glanced across at Dave who had turned a stunning shade of puce. If he went and stood next to the photograph, his face would disappear into the background silk, Paolo thought. He’d never have put Dave down as a prude.
Mary cut slices of cake. “Help yourselves,” she said as she sat down on the sofa between the two armchairs. “It’s a bit cosy in here, but it suits me fine now that I’m on my own.”
“It’s very nice,” Paolo said, reaching for a plate. “As I explained on the phone, we have some images we’d like to show you. We have reason to believe the man you saw was impersonating the journalist, but we’d like you to tell us if he resembled the real man in any way.”
He put down his plate on a small side table and took the images Dave held out to him.
“This is the real Seth Buchanan,” he said, passing the photograph to Mary.
She studied it for a few minutes before giving it back. “He did look a bit like him, but it wasn’t him, if you know what I mean.”
Paolo nodded. “Yes, I understand. Can you tell us what was similar and what was different?”
“He had the same sort of hair and glasses, but the face wasn’t the same at all.”
Paolo took out the earlier image of Conrad Stormont.
“This was taken about ten years ago. Would you say this could be a younger version of the same man?”
Mary reached out for the image and concentrated on it. Eventually, she sighed and handed it back.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know. I suppose it could be, although I wouldn’t want to swear to it. But I’ve remembered something about the man who pretended to be the journalist. Or, at least, I think I have. I’m not sur
e.”
Paolo waited while Mary collected her thoughts.
“I think he might have been following me, but not when he looked like he did when he came to see the professor.” She shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not putting this very well.”
“You’re doing fine,” Paolo said. “Just relax.”
She smiled and Paolo caught a glimpse of the younger Mary who adorned the walls.
“It’s like this,” she said. “When I opened the door to him, he looked familiar but I didn’t think much about it. Back in the day, when I was modelling, I met so many people that faces tended to blur after a while. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’m pretty sure I’d seen him before. I’ve tried and tried to think where I might know him from, but there just isn’t anywhere. I don’t know him at all, but still his face seemed familiar in some way. The only explanation I can come up with is that he’d been watching me and I’d spotted him without it registering. Does that sound insane?”
“No, not at all,” Paolo said. “I think you could be right. He might have been keeping the professor’s apartment under observation for a while to see what time you came in and left. Checking for regular movements.”
“The really annoying thing is that whenever I try to picture someone hanging around, there’s no one specific I can bring to mind.”
“Don’t worry. Something might come to you later. If it does, call me,” Paolo said. “The information you gave to our photo-fit man was very helpful. It seems the killer went to great lengths to impersonate Seth Buchanan.”
Mary opened her mouth, as if to speak, and then closed it again.
“You wanted to say something?” Paolo asked.
“Not really, but yes, I suppose so. I feel guilty because I can’t bring myself to be sorry the professor’s gone. Is that bad of me? I know it is, but he was just such a horrible man to work for.”
Paolo stood up, signalling for Dave to do the same. “From what we’ve discovered so far, you’re not alone in thinking like that. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, Mary. He certainly didn’t inspire affection in those who came into close contact with him.”
A look of relief flashed across her face. “Thank you.”
“For us, though, it doesn’t matter what type of person he was, someone has to be held to account for killing him. If you think of anything that might help, no matter how insignificant it seems, call me.”
Back in the car, Paolo turned to Dave and grinned.
“Did I see you getting hot under the collar in there?”
“Blimey, sir, everywhere I looked, there she was, naked as the day, or near enough.”
Paolo laughed. “Whatever happened to my detective sergeant who used to love ‘em and leave ‘em? Surely you must have seen a few naked bodies back then?”
As soon as he saw the stricken look on Dave’s face, Paolo wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“There never was any of that, sir. It was just me talking big. I thought you knew that.”
“I did, Dave. Sorry, I was teasing you. That was out of order, but…”
“It’s okay, sir.”
Dave hesitated and fiddled with the car key for a few seconds, then inserted it into the lock, but he didn’t start the engine.
“I don’t know if you noticed,” Dave said, “but Rebecca came in to see me today.”
“I knew, but didn’t like to comment. I know how you feel about her.”
Dave grinned. “We’re sort of back together again. I took your advice and let her in on my issues.”
Paolo waited. If Dave wanted to tell him more, fine, but he wasn’t going to pry. The silence lengthened and then Dave shrugged.
“I couldn’t tell her face to face and it’s not the sort of thing to talk about over the phone, so I sent her an email. It took me the best part of a week to get it right, but I told her all about what happened when I was a kid and how it made me feel. I also told her about being in therapy and all that.”
He turned to Paolo.
“I thought she’d run a mile, but she didn’t. She says she’s there for me if I need her. I can’t believe it.”
Paolo smiled. “Dave, you deserve someone special in your life. We all do,” he said, thinking of his Friday night date with Jessica. Tomorrow night, in fact. It took all his willpower to prevent himself from doing a high five in the air like a kid.
“Right, before we get any deeper into our imitation of characters from a ‘new men’ novel, let’s get back to work.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Week Two – Friday 1st August to Thursday 7th August
Paolo ripped off his shirt and tie and added them to the pile of clothes littering his bed. What to wear? He now had more clothes out of cupboards than he’d left hanging up. What did people wear these days on dates? He hadn’t been on one since he was seventeen and had fallen in love with Lydia. Had things changed that much in the intervening twenty-three years? Did it matter what he wore?
He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. With an hour to go before he needed to leave there was no need yet to panic, but there would be if he carried on like this. He felt like a fool. Forty years old and incapable of dressing himself to go out.
The littered clothes testified to half an hour already spent in indecision since he’d arrived home. It was just as well he’d left the station early. He stood up and chose a maroon sweatshirt at random. Would this be okay? What with? Jeans? Too casual? Probably. The shirt and tie he’d just taken off were too formal. He couldn’t go out as if he’d dressed for work.
As he sank back down onto the edge of the bed, admitting defeat, his phone rang. He hesitated before reaching for the receiver. It might be Jessica cancelling their date. She probably had to wash her hair, or paint the walls in her flat, or get up early to run a marathon tomorrow, or…
Stop being an idiot and answer the phone!
“Storey,” he mumbled, sounding as if his mouth had been stuffed with cotton wool.
“Hi, Dad. How’s it going? What time are you off out?”
“If I can’t work out what to wear, I won’t be going anywhere.”
Katy laughed. “Now that’s not something I ever expected to hear from you.”
“I know,” Paolo said, “I sound like a teenager on a first date. I feel like one, too! Come on, Katy, help your old dad. What should I wear?”
“That depends. What did you have in mind for this evening?”
Paolo felt a hot flush rising up from his feet and travelling through his body. Surely Katy wasn’t asking…
“Dinner,” he said. “I thought we’d go out for dinner somewhere.”
“Borrrr-ring!” Katy said. “I’d expected better from you, Dad. Does Jessica know about this exciting plan of yours?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t mention dinner or anything else. I just said I’d pick her up at eight.”
“Which restaurant?”
“I thought we’d stroll around until we find a place we both like the look of.”
He heard Katy sigh. “So the poor woman doesn’t even know where you’re going or what you might be doing? You think you’ve got problems deciding what to wear? That’s nothing to what she’ll be going through. You should ring her and tell her you’re going out to eat and which restaurant. At least that way she’ll know the dress code. Honestly, Dad, you’ve got a lot to learn.”
Paolo laughed. “Yes, Katy, I know that. What did you mean by dinner being a boring idea?”
“Why not do something different? You could go bowling, or ice-skating. That would be more fun than sitting down over a plate of food trying to make conversation.”
Paolo pictured the scene – long silences punctuated by small talk that meant nothing. Jessica would be so bored she’d never want to repeat the experience. Maybe not ice-skating but bowling wasn’t a bad idea. They could always go on for dinner afterwards if the evening went well.
“Katy, you are a star. Did I tell you I love you to bits?”
&
nbsp; “Cupboard love, Dad. You only love me because I’m brilliant. Anyway, you need to decide what you’re going to do, give Jessica a ring so that she knows what to wear and then get yourself ready.”
“Will do. Did you ring for any particular reason, or just to harass me?”
“Not just to harass you, although it’s fun and I do get a buzz out of doing it. I wanted to know if it’s okay to come over tomorrow. I’ve had a few thoughts about my future and wanted to run them by you.”
“Of course you can come over. If you get here in time for lunch I’ll treat you to a plate of food in a boring restaurant and we can make boring conversation. How does that sound?”
“Perfect! See you tomorrow. And, Dad…”
“Yes?”
“Relax and enjoy yourself.”
He replaced the receiver and looked up Jessica’s number. Feeling more at ease than he had all day, he dialled.
“Hi,” he said when Jessica answered. “Have you ever been ten pin bowling?”
“Not for years, but I used to be pretty good. Why are you asking?”
“I just wondered if you’d like to do that tonight.”
“You mean instead of going out to eat?” Jessica asked.
Paolo tried to detect how she felt about the idea from her tone of voice, but couldn’t pick up any clues. Some detective you are, he thought.
“I was thinking more along the lines of bowling and then going to eat afterwards. But we don’t have to do—”
Call It Pretending (#3 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 5