by Penny Grubb
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured into his hair. ‘It doesn’t matter. Of course it doesn’t matter.’
‘Annie, we could have a go at it tomorrow. Take the day off. You’re not really going into work, are you?’
She held him tighter. ‘Mike, I have to. I’ve been away too long. And if Casey … well … I’d rather stay with you, you know I would. But I can’t.’
The next morning, Pieternel greeted her with haunted eyes and drawn features. ‘Christ, Annie! What a mess. How in hell did this happen? C’mon.’ She signalled her to the privacy of the small office. ‘It turned me over when they said it was you. Then no one could reach you.’
‘But you knew Casey had my coat. Why didn’t you say? And you could have told them I’d have my mobile off.’
‘I forgot about the phone and what’s your coat to do with it? No one mentioned a coat to me. Oh, I don’t know what I thought.’
‘How’s Dean taken it?’
‘He was knocked sideways when we thought it was you, but he’s OK now.’
Annie felt her jaw drop. ‘I meant how has he taken it, knowing it’s Casey?’
‘Oh … well, OK I think. I mean, we don’t know for certain, do we? We won’t know till later. Hey, where are you going? I haven’t finished.’
Annie marched into the big office, her gaze raking the space for Dean. She found him in a quiet corner surrounded by boxes and files. His face was blank, but drained of colour, a pulse beat at the side of his head.
‘Dean?’ She spoke softly, not knowing how to reach him. Only Casey had known that. ‘You don’t have to be here. We’d all understand.’
‘All?’ He turned eyes full of bitterness towards her.
‘Pieternel isn’t really a heartless cow. She just doesn’t think.’
‘She never liked Casey.’
‘Well, maybe not … but she knew how good she was.’
The flounce of his shoulders signalled his disagreement, or maybe just that it made no odds.
‘Look, Dean, why don’t you get off home? No one expects you in work after this.’
‘No, Annie. I’d go mad. I’d sit thinking about it.’
‘What are you doing now?’
The files that surrounded him were Casey’s notes, all the cases she’d ever worked for them by the look of it. His gaze followed hers.
‘I’ll go through them, Annie. I’ll pitch any that aren’t anything and I’ll go through the rest and see what I can find. Then it’s up to you. You’re the one who can do this stuff. It’s up to us. We’ve got to find out who did this.’
‘Dean, did Casey say anything to you? What makes you think it’s to do with one of her cases?’
‘It has to be, Annie. What else could it be?’
Annie blocked the thought that came to her mind, the voice that said she knew the answer only too well. She couldn’t think this out just yet. There was too much else in her head. Dean knew the sordid world Casey sank into now and again. She might have pissed off her dealer … tried to scam the wrong person … taken contaminated stuff and fallen unconscious in the wrong place … fallen victim to a mugging gone wrong. A connection with one of her cases was way down the list. But this was the only thing left that he could do for her, so she’d play along for his sake and to buy time for herself before she had to admit to him that she knew he was right.
What must it have done to her father that Casey’s body ended up in a fire?
‘OK, Dean. We’ll do this. And hold on to the memories.
Remember her face. Remember the good times.’
‘I’ll never forget her face, Annie.’
Pieternel had the grace to turn a blind eye to Dean’s extracurricular activities. ‘I suppose he must be fairly cut up, poor kid. This’ll get it out of his system. But it puts us two experienced bodies down. It’s going to be a struggle.’
‘We’ll cope.’
‘Yup. Uh … You’d better sit down, Annie. Something I need to tell you about the Buenos Aires report.’ Annie sat, noting something uncharacteristically shamefaced in Pieternel’s expression. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t need to know about this yet. I leaked a few bits of the report early. That’s why they wanted to talk to you, why I pushed you into going to Scotland.’
‘What bits?’
‘Where d’you think the work piled in from? We became the miracle workers, the ones to do business with.’
‘You used that footage, didn’t you? You spun it to make her look a fraud?’
Pieternel nodded.
‘Now what? They’ve seen the full report and know you weren’t straight with them, I suppose. How much damage is this going to do us?’
‘No, no, it’s kinda worse than that … uh … better than that. Depends how you look at it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, of course, the report matched the bits I leaked early. I’m not fool enough to feed them outright lies. I was just careful the way I spun it.’
‘And?’
‘The claimant’s lawyers have got wind of it; they’re kicking up a stink.’
‘Well, of course they are. What did you expect? Did you think they’d roll over and just take it?’
‘No, I assumed they’d fight it out. I expected the client to take our report to one of the big boys to get the extra proof they need that we’re right.’
‘And what when the big boys couldn’t find their extra proof?’
‘It’d show that they were no better than we are.’
‘Bloody hell, Pieternel. You know full well there’s no extra proof to find. The woman’s on the level. Poor cow. What’s happened?’
‘They didn’t go to one of the big boys like I expected. They came back to us. They want us to dig out the proof.’
‘Yeah, right. What’s the damage if we come clean?’
‘Annie, don’t be stupid! We’re not throwing in the towel like that.’
‘If the claim’s legit, we’ve no option.’
‘You’re back on the case, Annie. I want you to find some real proof the woman’s a fraud.’
Chapter 18
Out in the big office, Annie cleared herself a space as best she could on a stained and pitted desktop, thinking of the empty acres of polished wood in Margot’s office. Once again, she spread the papers from the Buenos Aires file in front of her.
There was no sense of anticipation this time; no sense of secrets to ferret out. And one big difference between now and the first time: Casey had been alive then. There seemed little point even looking at the papers again. She knew every corner, could recite them practically word for word. But it gave her something to concentrate on, to block out all other thoughts.
She put the fax at the top of the pile. It said nothing to her any more. It was just a piece of paper, a slightly skewed copy. No instinct sang. She hadn’t expected it to.
All she could do was go back to basics, first principles. Find the source. Look at the originals. The name of a clinic was on the fax. That was the source she must investigate. Nothing in the file gave any useful contact data. She reached a keyboard towards her. If the net wouldn’t cough up a contact, she’d try the official healthcare channels.
Before long she had a phone number that might or might not connect her to someone who could trace the original communication. She clicked again at the keyboard to figure out the time zones. No point antagonizing anyone with a 2.00 a.m. call. Her fingers flew across the keys. She wanted this to be over.
Through the clamour of the office, beyond faces of new people she’d yet to get to know, she saw Dean in his corner, painstakingly working through a mountain of paper. Pieternel, at the far end, was hunched over a phone, putting up barriers, Annie hoped, for when this new pile of shit hit the fan.
Her mobile rang.
‘Annie, can you spare any time today,’ her father’s voice said. ‘They’d like a statement from you about Casey Lane.’
‘Yes, of course. I can come now. Dad, why are you involved in this?�
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‘Uh … we can talk later, Annie. How long will you be?’ She checked her watch. ‘Twenty minutes.’
As she headed for the Tube, she thought of the grey post-mortem photograph of Charlotte her father had shown her the night they’d played Scrabble in the garden. Her mind superimposed Casey’s face on the memory. Only from what she’d heard, there hadn’t been enough of Casey left for her face to be recognizable.
A young detective constable from the local station took her statement. There was little she could say, other than to describe the circumstances of her last meeting with Casey. He already had a statement from the client Casey visited before she was killed.
When everything was signed, he gave her a mock-stern smile. ‘I understand you might have made some work for us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘With that report of yours. Uncovered a fraud by all accounts.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She felt herself colour up, and cursed Pieternel. ‘It’s early days. It might come to nothing.’
He stood up. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, Ms Raymond, we’d like you to look at some CCTV footage from outside the building Ms Lane visited. We’d like it confirmed as her by someone who knew her well. You know we’ve found no family?’
‘Yes, I know. She never mentioned family to any of us.’ Not even Dean.
Her father joined them to watch the tape.
The resolution was good and the film in colour, so that even though Casey had chosen to obscure her face under a large hat, it was unmistakably her who strolled down the steps and out on to the pavement, looked right and left then jogged across the road and off the edge of the frame.
Annie felt a chill to see Casey alive and carefree. ‘I’d forgotten how it rained that evening,’ she said.
‘Would you look once more, just to be sure?’
She nodded and paid attention again to the flickering frame. ‘Yes, it’s her. I’m quite sure. Uh … How soon after …? When did it happen?’
‘Probably soon after she left. We don’t think she was killed where she was found. Chances are she was bundled in a vehicle and driven to where they burned the body.’
She felt he was telling her things he wouldn’t have divulged had her father not been there. She also thought she felt her father’s disapproval sweep over them both, but when she looked at him, his face was ashen. He caught her eye and tried to smile. ‘I’m so pleased I didn’t see that yesterday. It looked just like you coming out of that building, Annie.’
She couldn’t meet his eye. She heard her voice rattle out questions. Who found her? When? Did they have any idea who did it? Could it have been an accident? A mugging gone wrong? She probably had no answers, but if she did, they didn’t register.
Before she left, she arranged to meet her father for a meal that evening.
Back in the office, Annie looked with distaste at the Buenos Aires file and the phone number she should ring later. Nothing must interrupt her evening with her father.
She took Dean aside to tell him about the CCTV image of Casey.
‘Why didn’t they ask me?’
‘They might.’
‘How’s it going?’ She nodded towards the heap of paperwork.
‘Nothing yet, Annie, but it’ll be there somewhere.’
Leaving him to carry on, she went to update Pieternel.
‘I’ll call the clinic later tonight. I want to catch them at about the same time of day the fax was sent, maybe catch the same shift, you know.’
‘Leave it with one of the new guys if you want. Have a relaxing evening with your dad.’
Relaxing? Hardly. ‘Thanks, I’ll do that. I wouldn’t usually leave something like this with … well, anyway.’
‘Give me the gen and I’ll pass it on.’
Annie went to retrieve the fax. ‘This is what I’m after. Another copy faxed from source.’ She showed Pieternel the numbers she’d dug out, reminded her of the time difference. ‘It might take some fast talking to get the info out of them, of course.’
Mike was already there when Annie arrived home. He sat at the kitchen table drumming his fingers on the surface.
‘For heaven’s sake, Mike,’ she snapped, ‘can’t you find anything better to do? I’d like to get this place cleared up a bit before Dad gets here.’
‘He can’t come tonight. He rang. Something came up. He asked if it would be OK to come round about midday tomorrow before he goes back to Scotland.’
What was it with her father? This summer was the first time in her life she wanted to talk seriously to him and he was never there. ‘Yes, of course it will. I can come home at lunchtime, work late if I have to. What did you tell him?’
‘I told him yes.’
‘Good. Then we can have a real go at this mess tonight.’
He made a face. ‘Let me get in one of those firms that’ll come in and blitz it. I could do it tomorrow morning while you’re at work.’
‘Don’t they cost a fortune?’
‘Well, yeah, but–’
‘And anyway, you couldn’t get anyone at this notice.’
‘I could. I checked in case you said yes. But …’
‘But what? Come on, Mike, spit it out. You’ve been on edge since I got back.’
‘Come and sit down, Annie.’
‘For crying out loud, I’m fed up with people telling me to sit down. What is it?’
‘I’ve done something you won’t like, but I don’t want you going off on one.’
‘What?’
‘I paid the electricity bill.’
She stared, nonplussed. ‘Oh, OK. Thanks. I hope you don’t need the money back in a hurry.’
‘I don’t want it back at all. I spend enough time here. But that’s not all. I’ve paid the rent too. The rent on the flat’s back up to date.’
‘Bloody hell, Mike. What are you playing at? I said I’d sort all that. I’d rather owe them than you.’
‘I thought about it when I was here with your father. When we thought that you … I didn’t want him thinking you’d died on the point of becoming homeless.’
‘Oh Mike, you idiot.’ She tried and failed to hold on to her annoyance at his interference. He was a sentimental fool at times but somehow he suited her.
‘I will pay you back when I can, but don’t do anything like this again, will you? I’ll get out of this myself. I always have before.’
‘I don’t want paying back, Annie, but I can’t afford to pay your bills as well as mine. Couldn’t we compromise?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why don’t I move in? Then we can share the bills, well, I can pay them till you’re on your feet.’
Annie stopped. The idea was preposterous. How could she let anyone into her life as closely as that? Yet, he spent most of his time here as it was. And the idea of having someone to share at least part of the financial burden felt like a weight lifted already.
‘That could work. You know, I racked my brains a while ago wondering if I could cram in a flatmate but there just isn’t room. But if you were to move in …’
‘It’s a yes then?’
‘It is. I don’t know what’s in it for you, but it’s perfect financial sense for me. Of course it’s a yes.’
‘Or you could say that I’m the person you want to share your life with and you want me to move in whatever the financial implications.’
‘You don’t want me spouting that guff.’
‘I wouldn’t mind once in a while. So, do we shake on it or, since your father’s not coming round, maybe we could seal the deal some other way?’
Annie laughed. Mike was right. It would be good to have him here all the time.
‘Why’s your father here, Annie? I know why he came to London, but why did he stay? Why is he acting like he’s part of the inquiry? He didn’t know Casey.’
Annie didn’t meet his eye as she shrugged, hoping he would interpret the gesture as a don’t know.
Chapter 19
&nb
sp; Annie arrived at work before six the next morning, but found the office already manned. Dean was by his paper mountain, still sifting through, still looking bewildered. She would offer to help him in a while. She knew now which case he needed, and he wouldn’t find it there.
She made them both coffee, then went to flick through the diary and papers on Pieternel’s desk. Paradoxically, although they were busier than they’d been for months, there was little for her to do. The workload had been divvied up whilst Pieternel had wanted her out of the way. All she had to work on was this second bite at the Buenos Aires case and once she’d sucked that dry, the credibility-sapping result would likely be another sudden diminution of their client base, this time fatal. None the less, she flicked through Pieternel’s notes deciding where to muscle in to get herself back into the thick of it.
She strolled to her desk as the door opened and Pieternel came in. They murmured hellos. Annie sat cradling her coffee as the office filled up around her.
The new guy Pieternel had spoken to the night before marched over and handed her a sealed brown envelope.
‘It’s that fax you wanted, Ms Raymond.’
Annie smiled her thanks, the formal ‘Ms Raymond’ underlining the isolation she’d felt these last few weeks.
She slit the envelope and took out a page of notes, neatly written, and another copy of the fax she remembered from the file. So he’d done the job. Well done, him. He’d be a useful member of the team, supposing there was still a team left when the dust settled.
The Buenos Aires file came out again and she went through the sheets until she found the original copy. With the two sheets side by side, the only obvious difference was in the auto-lettering at the edge giving the date and time of faxing. The new copy gave yesterday’s date; on the old one the information was lost in the angle of the off-centre copy.
Left to right. From top to bottom. Letter by letter and word by word, alignment and spacing. Every detail. She went through with a finger on each sheet following the printed captions and handwritten data.