As Good as Dead

by Ben Westerham

  “Until I heard what she had to say in there, I’d have said you could trust her to look after your last Rolo, but I don’t know what to think now. She pulled the wool over my eyes, good and proper. I didn’t have a clue what was really going on.”

  “She’s not done anything suspicious while she’s been here? Nothing that might have looked ordinary enough at the time but now doesn’t seem so innocent.”

  “Not really. She went AWOL yesterday morning, looking for breakfast in a local cafe, but I was well late showing up, so I suppose that was fair enough. She wasn’t on her own, though, when I found her.” Durham’s eyes widened, not a lot, but enough to make his interest clear. “She was sitting at a little table with a bloke, chatting and laughing, and when I sidled up she told me he was an old friend down here from London on business. I sat outside, so I could keep an eye on her, as I’m supposed to be doing. Everything seemed above board. Couldn’t say there was anything suspicious about the bloke.”

  “All the same, I’ll get some details from her and have him checked out. And what about these solicitors who signed you up? They didn’t say anything or drop any hints about what was really going on?”

  “Like getting blood out of a stone with them. My guess would be they don’t know much more than I do, or did. I’d bet she gave them my name and number, a big pile of cash and told them to sort out the arrangements.”

  “So it was all done through them. Did you meet her here in Brighton, or bring her down from London?”

  “Met the two of them, her and Scoular, at the railway station here. I came down a few days earlier, to give myself some time to top up the old tan. Scoular took a look at the hotel, told me to behave myself, then buggered off back to London.”

  “We’ll have a word with the solicitors as well. See if they’ve been keeping anything back. When you got back here this morning and dropped her off at her room, you didn’t hear anything, no arguing, sounds of a fight?”

  “No. She unlocked the door and went inside. No screams or nothing. You can see for yourself it only takes me a few seconds to reach my room, so I was inside probably before she’d even grabbed hold of that ashtray.”

  “Yes, that’s a right old whack she gave him. Doesn’t look like she held back at all. And when you got back to your room, you say the phone rang. Was that right away?”

  “That’s right. I could tell right off something was wrong from the sound of her voice. One of those heart in mouth moments when you tense up because you know something bad is about to smack you round the chops.”

  The lift pinged. We both looked down the hallway and saw the opening doors begin to reveal the figures of two pensioners, clearly about to exit.

  “You’ll be staying on for a day or two, I trust,” prompted Durham. “We’ll probably have some more questions for you.”

  “Fine with me. She’s paying, so I’ve got no problem with that. You going to shift her out of that room?”

  “Yes. I’ll have a word with the manager and get her moved to a new room. If what she says is true and it turns out that corpse in there is linked to her former boyfriend, then we’ll have to look at putting her up somewhere a lot safer than this place. At least until my colleagues in Richmond have made their minds up what they want to do with her. Mind you, my guess is it isn’t with the Richmond station any more. The Met has specialist teams for the likes of Groves. Anyway, let’s not hang around out here attracting attention.”

  Chapter Eight

  Angela found a new room for Alex on the next floor up and I spent a bit of time helping her shift her gear there, which meant hauling around that bloody suitcase again. Deep joy. The stress of things had started to take its toll on her by then and, as soon as we’d moved her gear, Alex slumped down on to the nearest chair and burst into tears.

  I picked up a small box of tissues from the sideboard and took them over. She blew her nose, curled her legs underneath her and leaned her head against the side of the high-backed chair, her eyes looking deep into mine.

  “Have you ever killed someone, David?” She seemed to be almost pleading for me to say I had.

  “Can’t save as I have, no. I’ve clobbered a few blokes pretty hard, sometimes with bloody big lumps of wood or metal bars, but they’ve always been able to get back up on their feet again, even if I they did need a bit of help.”

  “I feel so bad. It was horrible.”

  She was clearly badly cut up about what had happened and sounded distraught. There wasn’t a lot I could do for her, apart from offering her a shoulder to cry on. To tell the truth, my feelings for the woman were a bit mixed up. OK, some big gorilla had attacked her in her room, which wasn’t the sort of thing anyone would want to go through. I felt sorry for her about that. But, on the other hand, she’d been enjoying the life of Riley in London, living off the ill-gotten gains of a big, nasty villain who dolled out a lot of pain and unhappiness to his victims.

  Worse still, she’d sold me a pack of lies and put my well-being on the line without my approval. Who knows what might have happened? I could have finished up with every bone in my body broken or found myself taking a dive off the end of the pier wearing a set of concrete brogues, and I’m not a great swimmer at the best of times. What she’d done to me, that made me angry.

  I just hoped that, with a bit of luck, by the time we got to the end of the day I’d have said goodbye, handed her over to the law and all that would be left for me to do was be to bank a big fat cheque in payment for services rendered. Still, in the meantime there didn’t seem much point in giving her an especially hard time of it. I never have been the vindictive sort. Bit too much of a softie sometimes. All in all, I decided I might as well bite back the frustration and anger and finish the babysitting job like a pro.

  “I wouldn’t let it get to you.” I said. “Just think about what might have happened if he’d got you out the hotel and into a motor back to London.”

  She nodded and wiped her hooter with a fresh tissue.

  “If I was you, I’d take it easy for now. Get some rest. Nice, long soak in the bath might help.”

  “Yes, I’ll try that. Don’t suppose you’d make me a cup of tea first?”

  “Think I can manage that,” I replied, happy to have something to do.

  *

  I started the bath running for Alex and left her with a nice, hot cuppa before heading back to my own room. There were a couple of calls I wanted to make. As I approached Alex’s old room, I noticed Durham had left a copper on guard duty. I stopped to ask him for an update, though had no great expectations about breakthroughs and the like. He told me forensics were in the room, doing their thing, while the body had been shipped out to the hospital and Durham and Wills had retreated to the station. I didn’t imagine it would be long before they were be back to tell Alex what they’d been able to sort out for her.

  Once I’d closed the door to my room behind, I walked over to the phone. My first call was to Scoular. I gave him the news in as casual a manner as I could, hoping I’d catch him off balance. I wasn’t disappointed. The old sod must have come close to having a heart attack. He was spluttering gibberish almost as soon as I’d finished speaking. For one thing, he couldn’t seem to make up his mind what was worse, his client being attacked or said client bashing a man’s brains in. He also had a lot of trouble coming to terms with the news that the sweet, innocent young woman who’d walked into his office with a bit of an unusual request a week or so earlier was, in fact, until recently shacked up with a hardened East End criminal.

  I smiled as I listened to a stream of half-finished sentences, sighs and strange noises that didn’t seem altogether human. Poor old Scoular. He was the kind of bloke who liked everything in life one hundred percent predictable; all in its right place and no nasty surprises. Well, all of that had gone right out the window.

  Most all, though, I reckoned he was worried his client might come to a sticky end before she’d paid his firm their big fat fee for services already rendered. I
n my experience, lawyers and accountants are the best people in the world at making sure they get paid, even if it leaves their latest client homeless and living out of a suitcase without so much as a clean pair of undies.

  After a few minutes spent listening to him witter on, I managed to calm him down enough to let me fire a few questions in his direction, not the least of which was if he knew anything at all about Tony Groves and Alex’s real reason for being in Brighton. His reaction to what I’d already told him suggested he knew diddly squat. Unfortunately, Alex had told him exactly the same story she’d told me. And no, he’d not had any reason to think she was hiding anything. Apparently his sharp legal mind had been no better than mine at spotting a pack of lies when it had been told by a pretty woman with a nice pair of legs and a big smile.

  It turned out, however, that there was an Uncle Robert, or at least someone claiming to be him. Scoular had spoken to him several times; most recently the previous day, when he’d told Scoular things were coming along reasonably well with the blackmailing former boyfriend. No doubt the so-called uncle was someone Alex had paid to play the part. I made a mental note to ask her about him later.

  I also asked Scoular if there had been anyone else involved in Alex’s little scheme, even if they’d only popped their head above the parapet for a brief moment. But he confirmed Alex and the uncle were the only people he’d had any contact with.

  In other words, Scoular turned out to be absolutely no use at all in helping me work out whether I could believe what Alex had told us about Tony Groves. Not only that, but as he started to regain control of himself, the old git reminded me, in a way that made it sound like he was looking down his nose at me, that I was under strict orders to make sure nothing else untoward happened to his client. This seemed to me a bit after the Lord Mayor’s Show and ignored the small fact that Alex wasn’t my problem any more, because she was now in the firm grasp of the Brighton police force.

  Before he could irritate me any more by issuing yet more orders, I put a swift end to the call with a promise - that I’d not be making any great efforts to keep - that I would provide him with updates as the situation unfolded.

  Having drawn a blank with Scoular, I mulled over my options. I needed someone who had at least an outside chance of knowing something useful themselves or having the means to find out. What would help, I decided, was having friends in the Metropolitan Police in London and, happily, I had a few of those. One or two of them would even be happy to take a call from me.

  I dialled another number and waited. On about the fifteenth ring, someone picked up.

  “Nick Parkin, please.” I requested. “Tell him it’s his old mate, David Good, and I come bearing important news.”

  Hours seemed to have gone by when I finally heard another voice coming down the line. It was one I recognised. “That you, Dave?”

  “Nick. How’s tricks? Get lost on your way back from the loo, did you?”

  “How d’you guess?”

  “It took you so long to come to the phone, you had to either be making the tea or else sitting on the bog.”

  “Shame no one’s yet worked out how to do both at the same time.”

  We hadn’t spoken in a while and we spent a few minutes asking about families and girlfriends and what have you, but he knew I’d not called him at work just to say hello. He eventually moved the conversation on. “What’s up, then? You in trouble, again?”

  “You make it sound like I only call you when I want something. That might be true some of the time, but I did phone the other week with a hot tip and an easy collar.”

  “That was last year.”

  “Yeah? Time don’t half fly when you’re having fun. Have you caught that flasher they keep going on about in the papers? My old mum’s half a mind to get together with some of her friends to hunt him themselves. She reckons he won’t have anything left to flash if they get hold of him before you lot do.”

  “We arrested a dirty old git yesterday. Caught him when he had a nasty encounter with a motorbike trying to leg it after his latest exposure. You should see the tyre marks. Ouch!”

  “Hilarious. I’ll tell my mum the good news.”

  “So, what do you want?”

  “Well, seeing as you’re asking. I’m in Brighton. My latest client has had a bit of trouble. Left a bloke dead on the floor of her hotel room.”

  “Wear him out, did she?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What happened, then?”

  I proceeded to give Nick a run-through recent events, mostly the bits about the dead man and the news that Alex’s former lover was anything but an angel.

  “Blimey, you really are in it up to your neck, aren’t you? What’s up, can’t bring yourself to abandon a damsel in distress? If I was you, I’d leave the local coppers to sort out the mess and get yourself back up here as quick as you can.”

  “That’s what I was thinking of doing, but I’ve got this nasty feeling there’s more to this than meets the eye, even after Alex’s latest revelations, and I can’t bring myself to give it up just like that. Need to have a nose round before I chuck in the towel. You heard of this Tony Groves?”

  “No, it’s not on my patch, but if he’s that big a villain then I shouldn’t have too much trouble finding out something about him. I take it that’s what you’re after.”

  “Spot on. Think you’ll be able to get back to me later today?”

  “See what I can do. You know this will cost you? At least a couple of pints, I’d say. Maybe a packet of crisps, too.”

  “I’ll sort something out when I get back, so long as your missus lets you out to play.”

  “I’m in her good books. Took her out to the pictures last week. She’s still telling people about it.”

  “You old romantic, you.”

  I popped the phone back on the hook, confident I’d get something useful out of Nick before the day was done. It would have been nice to have some contacts among the criminal fraternity that I could ask about Groves, but, even if I could think of a likely candidate or two, by sticking my neck out I was very likely to find it getting chopped off.

  Anyway, surely it wasn’t going to take long for Durham and company to decide on their next move. As far as I could see, there were two possible outcomes to the predicament Alex was in. One, she’d be charged by the Brighton cops for manslaughter, if they weren’t entirely convinced by her claim of self-defence. Personally, I couldn’t see that happening, not given the circumstances, but it was possible. Two, she’d be shipped back to London and kept on a short leash, so the Met could roll up Groves.

  Of course, things might get a bit messy if the Brighton cops did want to charge her and the Met decided they wanted her back, but what difference did that make to me? My job was done, wasn’t it? I was free to enjoy myself, if that’s what you can call it, with Angela for another night or two. Could even spend the daylight hours sitting in a deckchair on the beach, recovering from Angela’s attentions. Then I remembered there was also the small matter of the thieving git in the hotel. That would keep me busy for a bit. The trouble was, I just couldn’t leave the Alex problem at that. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to find out more. Was it really Tony Groves who’d sent one of his thugs south to drag Alex back to London? Or was there something else going on?

  I’d been walking round my room while I’d been mulling things over, but, as I reached the window once more, I stopped and looked out to the sea, which was still pushing little waves on to the cobbles, like nothing in the world had changed. But things had changed, for Alex, for me and anyone else connected to what had occurred in her old room. And they certainly hadn’t changed for the better.

  I checked the time. It was nearly half-eleven. Too early for lunch and, anyway, I wasn’t feeling hungry. Not unusual when my brain was busy mulling over some aspect of a case. It was like my body couldn’t spare the energy or effort to deal with processing food, because it was all used up keeping my brain cells functionin
g at optimum level.

  Too restless to keep still, I wandered off to reception to see if Angela was around, but she was too busy for the likes of me. So I walked outside, crossed the road and stood at the top of the beach, letting the wind gusting in off the sea whack me about the chops and the stink of seaweed waft up my nostrils, thinking that might help my little grey cells to come up with some decent ideas. It didn’t and I soon got fed up with the smell and the buffeting from the wind, so went back into the hotel, ordered a coffee in the bar and sat down at a table planning to peruse one or two of the day’s newspapers.

  I’d barely got past page three of The Sun and Luscious Lisa’s ample assets, when I noticed a bloke striding towards me. It was Durham. Now, why was he back at the Churchill so soon? Under the circumstance, I decided it wasn’t going to be good news. Like someone once said, assume the worst and you’ll never be let down. Sound advice.

  “Hello again, Inspector,” I said, not bothering to stand up. “Just popped in for lunch, have you? I recommend the Dover sole. Can’t beat it.”

  He didn’t smile. In fact, he looked agitated and was breathing a little heavily, as though he’d been rushing around.

  “I wish I was. No, I’ve been back up to see Alex Rudd. That bloke she clobbered over the head has a nasty record, including assault and GBH. I’ve spoken to the Met and they’ve suggested we have someone on duty outside Miss Rudd’s room at all times. Seems they’re worried she might get another uninvited visitor.”

  “So it was someone sent by Groves then?”

  “Don’t know for sure. Not yet. We’ve sent the Met what information we’ve got and they’re looking into things. But, if you ask me, it’s Groves behind this, alright. I don’t go in for coincidences, especially not when there’s a back story like the one we’ve got here.”

  “You told Alex this?”

  “I have. Wouldn’t have been right to keep her in the dark, not after what’s happened. I’ve told her not to worry and all we’re doing by sticking a man outside her room is not taking any chances. But she’s not stupid. She knows there’s a chance Groves could try again.”