The Dead Squirrel (The Mac Maguire detective mysteries Book 2)

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The Dead Squirrel (The Mac Maguire detective mysteries Book 2) Page 13

by Patrick C Walsh


  Diane looked puzzled.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, he’s sent us a longer version which shows you walking away from Catherine’s and getting into your car and driving off. He said if you want to press charges he’ll provide all the evidence he can.’

  ‘And if I don’t press charges?’ Diane asked.

  ‘He said that he has some business interests in Siberia and that whoever was behind the blackmail attempt will find themselves representing him there for quite a few years to come.’

  She said nothing.

  ‘Is it true that you’ve refused to see him since the divorce?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Why would I want to see that bastard’s face again?’

  ‘I think he’s just trying to get your attention, that’s what the takeover bid was all about, a chance to meet you.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  ‘I do.’ Mac said. ‘He said something interesting, he said he’d found out too late that the only women in the world that he was absolutely sure that loved him for himself were his mother and you.’

  She stood up and started pacing up and down.

  ‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘I did love him…then.’

  ‘He said he’d be in Tony’s restaurant tomorrow at eight and if you give him half an hour he’ll drop the takeover.’

  ‘I thought he was still angry at me, wanting to get even.’ She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘And if I don’t turn up?’ she asked.

  ‘He said he’ll drop the takeover anyway. He also said he’ll stop trying.’

  This seemed to disturb her for some reason.

  ‘He said he’ll stop trying, really?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  She sat down and held her head in her hands.

  ‘God I so wish daddy was still alive, that he could tell me what to do. I suppose that’s why I came here when we split up. This was his house, his little hideaway, it’s where he did his best thinking he always said. The problem is I just can’t seem to think at all at the moment.’

  ‘Well, he would have clearly seen that it was making you utterly miserable. Perhaps he might have said that it doesn’t have to be this way, sometimes you have to give people a second chance in life.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘We all make mistakes, don’t we? After all Elizabeth forgave Darcy, didn’t she?’ Mac said.

  ‘Yes she did,’ Diane said, brightening up a little.

  ‘It was quite a lot to forgive too, wasn’t it?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Yes, yes it was I suppose. Thank you,’ she said giving them the faintest of smiles.

  Outside Leigh asked, ‘Exactly what was it that Elizabeth forgave Darcy for? I must have been making tea during that bit.’

  ‘Elizabeth’s sister Jane was in love with Darcy’s friend Mr. Bingley. However Darcy persuaded his friend that Elizabeth’s sister wasn’t a good enough match for him. When Jane went to London to try and see Bingley Darcy made sure that she’d fail. This made Jane absolutely miserable. So Elizabeth was seething when she found out that it was Darcy who had engineered it all and that he was responsible for keeping Jane and Mr. Bingley apart. So when Darcy asked Elizabeth to marry him she turned him down flat. She said that ‘had he behaved in a more gentleman-like manner…’ In those days that was probably the nearest thing to using a swear word.’

  As they drove down the road to the Earl Lewin Mac wondered how it would all turn out. It was now half past seven and the pub was heaving. They made their way past the queue and Mac managed to get Nico’s attention.

  ‘Is your boss around?’ Mac asked.

  ‘It’s his day off,’ Nico replied. ‘But he lives over the shop as it were. Come on I’ll take you to him.’

  They went through a door marked private and up a narrow flight of stairs which Mac took very carefully as there was no bannister. He led Mac and Leigh into a spacious room, a sort of very large bedsit dominated by a state of the art kitchen in one corner. Simon Gent was cooking something and the aroma was entirely wonderful. Mac suddenly realised that he was very hungry.

  ‘Mr. Maguire and his lovely assistant. I hope you’re both hungry,’ Simon Gent said.

  ‘I am that,’ Mac replied sincerely.

  ‘Good sit down at the table there and I’ll bring it over in a minute. Just a little experimenting but I always end up doing loads more than I should so I’m really glad you’ve both come.’

  Mac sat down. If the food was as good as it aroma suggested then he knew he was in for a rare treat.

  As he brought two plates to the table Simon asked, ‘I take it you’re Irish with a name like Maguire?’

  ‘Yes I was born there and came over here when I was young.’

  ‘I hope you like white pudding then?’

  ‘Love it,’ Mac replied with complete sincerity.

  Simon brought a large frying pan over to the table.

  ‘Good, I’d like your opinion on this. It’s Irish Bream with a White Pudding and Carrageen Moss crust served with warm soda bread. I’m thinking of doing a special for St. Patricks Day.’

  It looked beautiful. Mac took a corner off the fish with his fork and put it in his mouth. It was absolutely totally magnificent.

  ‘I’ve just died and gone to heaven,’ he said as he continued eating.

  Simon smiled broadly but Mac noticed that he was looking mostly at Leigh.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’

  Mac didn’t say another word until he’d wiped the plate clean with the bread.

  ‘You’re a very talented man,’ Mac said.

  ‘That was fantastic,’ Leigh said, handing the chef her empty plate.

  ‘Thanks, it’ll be on the menu then.’

  The chef cleared the table and then sat down with them.

  ‘So how can I help the police?’

  Mac had almost forgotten why he’d come.

  ‘I saw some CCTV cameras downstairs, one on the front entrance and another one on the car park. I wondered if you keep the images?’

  ‘I was just looking at some of them before I started cooking. Here.’

  Mac and Leigh followed him to the far corner of the room where a very large TV hung on the wall. Simon picked up the remote control and Mac saw people opening the pub door and leaving.

  ’I’m not interested in the car park stuff just these,’ the chef explained.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Something I learnt from one of the first chefs I worked for. He always used to look at the videos of the customers as they left. He used to say that people may smile and say everything was okay and wonderful but when they step out of the restaurant there you’ll see the truth on their faces. Do they still look happy, do they look pissed off? He always said that the mask dropped when they were leaving. I’ve found it very useful especially for my regulars. If they don‘t look happy when they leave I try and find out why.’

  ‘I’m quite amazed at your attention to detail. I’ve no doubt you’ll go far but to get back to the case, have you any images for the night before Catherine was murdered?’

  ‘Sure I think they go back a year or more. What was the date?’

  Mac told him and he got the relevant video up in less than a minute.

  ‘What time approximately?’ the chef asked.

  ‘Around nine-thirty in the evening.’

  He quickly found the image of Diane leaving the pub.

  ‘Can we switch to the car park?’ Mac asked.

  Simon did so and seven minutes later they saw Diane walk past the camera and disappear to the left, re-appearing a minute or so later behind the wheel of the Ferrari. She then drove out of Willian towards her home.

  ‘Thanks Simon,’ Mac said. ‘I think that’s all I need to see for now. Is there any chance that you could email that video to this address?’

  He gave Simon Andy’s email address and thanked him again for the wonderful meal. Leigh followed him out a minute or so later looking a bit flustered.

&nb
sp; Nico showed them out. As he held open the door Mac gestured for him to follow him outside.

  ‘Nico, I know all about you and Catherine. Why didn’t you tell me when I was here before?’

  He looked like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  ‘I’m sorry Mr. Maguire but I didn’t want to talk about it in there. I didn’t want anyone to overhear. I’ve got a wife and kids.’

  Mac let it go at that.

  ‘Tell me everything you know about Catherine and I mean everything.’

  ‘Okay, we used to meet at her house every Tuesday and Friday after she’d eaten at the restaurant. She’d go back and get herself ready while I was closing up here.’

  ‘And she paid you for these visits?’

  The waiter nodded.

  ‘But it wasn’t like that, well not after I’d known her a while. We became friends. I really liked her Mr. Maguire. I know she was in her forties but she looked after herself. I thought she was quite beautiful.’

  ‘Was it during one of these visits when she told you about the book offer?’

  ‘Yes we’d have a drink afterwards and have a chat before I went home. She was very excited about the book. It was a fantastic chance for her to get better known.’

  ‘Did you discuss anything else that might be of help?’

  Nico gave it some thought.

  ‘Yes there was one thing but I’m not sure…’

  ‘Tell us anyway,’ Mac said.

  ‘Okay I think it was around three weeks or so ago on a Friday night and it happened when she was crossing the road just there.’

  He pointed to a spot about twenty yards down the road.

  ‘As she was crossing a car came straight at her. She thought she was going to get run over but the car swerved at the very last minute and just avoided her. She said it went up the kerb and onto the pavement before driving off. The car didn’t have its lights on so Catherine reckoned it was just someone from the pub who’d had too much to drink.’

  Mac wasn’t so sure.

  ‘Did she notice anything about the car that might help us to identify it?’

  ‘Not really, she said it was dark coloured but she didn’t know much about cars.’

  ‘It definitely wasn’t a sports car then?’

  Nico gave Mac a sharp look.

  ‘You mean like Diane’s car? No Catherine knew that car well. I think it must have been some sort of saloon. ‘Just a normal car’ were the words she used.’

  ‘Did she ever mention getting any threatening letters?’

  ‘No. Why did she get some?’

  Mac didn’t answer.

  ‘You know I’m still wondering about you and Catherine and Diane. I mean Diane’s a really good looking woman, how come you preferred Catherine’s company?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Yes Diane is beautiful but what’s that song? Yes ‘beautiful but oh so boring’ well that was Diane.’

  ‘Boring, in what way?’

  ‘Well, I’ll be honest I really like sex but with Diane it was sometimes like being in a sweet shop and then being told that you’re not allowed to touch anything.’

  Mac was surprised.

  ‘Oh yes we had sex sometimes but more often we’d just lie on the bed fully clothed, she’d have her back to me and I’d hug her until she fell asleep. Now Catherine was totally different, the minute we went through her front door it was clothes off and sex, sex, sex. God, I’ll really miss her.’

  ‘Is there anything you can think of that you haven’t told us already?’

  ‘I’m sorry no.’

  Mac gave him his number in case he remembered anything else.

  As they seated themselves in the car Mac found he was curious and asked Leigh a question.

  ‘Why were you looking so flustered back then, when we left Simon Gent?’

  She had a big grin on her face as she held out her hand.

  ‘He kissed it!’ she said. ‘He kissed my hand.’

  It was the happiest Mac had seen her.

  Leigh drove him home. It had been quite a day. He sat on the settee thinking things over when he suddenly became aware of how tired and how close to melt down he was. He got undressed, took a blue pill and got straight into bed. He fell asleep almost immediately.

  …and another poisoning

  It was just getting too delicious.

  Even walking along the street he would cast his eye over neighbours and acquaintances and wonder ‘Are you going to be next?’ This thought always made him smile. People had told him many times that he looked much happier these days. If only they knew why.

  He had expanded his operations and enjoyed some nice days out in places he’d never been to before. However his next project was somewhat closer to home. He’d rid the world of quite a few slugs by now. So many in fact that he decided that he’d earned a little bonus and that bonus was Matthew Silsoe.

  He liked his work. His work was all about numbers and he liked numbers. They were honest and reliable. Two and two always made four, always did and always would. His work was recognised within the company. They used him to train others and write procedures. He’d been offered managerial positions on more than one occasion and he‘d turned them all down. With a person two and two might make four one day then five the next and absolutely anything on yet another day. People were inherently unreliable.

  Matthew Silsoe hadn’t been on his radar until one day when he overheard a conversation. He’d been in the cubicle doing the Times crossword when two men came in to use the urinals. One of them was Silsoe.

  ‘Between you and me Old Derrington’s retiring and I’ve been given the nod that I’m going to be taking over,’ Silsoe said with more than a hit of triumphalism. ‘The first thing that I’m going to do is sack that odd little number cruncher. I know he’s good at what he does but I must say that I can’t stand the chap. Anyway he’s not exactly very dynamic is he? Once I get behind Derrington’s desk he’ll be straight out the door and I’ll get someone younger in.’

  He didn’t take him long to figure out that the ‘odd little number cruncher’ Silsoe was referring to must be himself. David Derrington, his boss for many years, had always appreciated him and had just let him get on with the job. Now he was retiring. He had no idea what he’d done to upset Silsoe and, if he was being honest, he didn’t much care. Within a minute of hearing the conversation he’d already started formulating his plan.

  A number of his colleagues went for a drink most Fridays before going home. He sometimes joined them before catching his train so no-one was surprised when he turned up on that particular Friday. He bought Silsoe a drink and they had a chat. He told him that he’d heard that he was up for Derrington’s job and wished him luck. Of course Silsoe accepted the drink. He thought he was being buttered up when in fact he’d just had his death sentence delivered to him. That nice big glass of juicy red wine had quite a wallop, all supplied by the wonderful Mr. T.

  Silsoe was in a good mood that night and had quite a few drinks as everyone there told the police afterwards. After all he was celebrating his imminent promotion and a big pay rise.

  The policemen nodded. They were now sure that they’d found the reason for his death.

  Silsoe always caught the Northern Line home and he had the habit of standing near the tube tunnel at King’s Cross station so he could get into one of the last two train carriages. This left him right opposite the station exit when he got off. While he was standing there he suddenly felt nauseous. However it was the sudden feeling that he was standing on red hot coals that made him lose his balance. He fell onto the track just as the train came out of the tunnel. There was nothing the driver could do. The cause of death was obvious and no-one looked any further.

  When he first heard the terrible news he thought he did admirably well in keeping a straight face. He shook his head, bemoaned the loss of an esteemed colleague and cried crocodile tears along with the rest of them.

  Even when he was b
y the graveside and a certain thought struck him, his mournful expression remained intact. Poor Silsoe had apparently been neatly cut into two pieces by the train wheels, sliced apart just below the hips. He laughed inside as he remembered the very last words he’d heard him speak.

  ‘I better go home,’ Silsoe had said, ’I think I’m getting a bit legless.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thursday

  Leigh picked him up at ten thirty allowing Mac to have the luxury of a lie in. She’d already been to the station and had a chat with Andy. He wanted them to try and interview the last two members of Anne’s group and then meet him back at the station to discuss next steps.

  ‘So how are you today?’ she asked. ‘You looked absolutely exhausted last night.’

  Mac looked at her before he spoke. He could still detect a little smile and there was a lightness about her that he hadn’t seen before. He thought she should get her hand kissed more often.

  ‘Yes sorry about that. I don’t know whether it’s the drugs or my condition but I sometimes get these bouts of exhaustion. I’m fine now I’ve had a nice long sleep. Anyway what’s next?’

  ‘Andy wanted us to visit the last two members of Anne’s group and then report back to him.’

  ‘Okay so let’s try this Zsuzsanna Dixon first as we know where she works.’

  St. Hilda’s School was a private school, girls only. It had a good reputation and charged a good price for it. Leigh drove into the car park. The school consisted mainly of a large Edwardian pile attempting to look like a grand country mansion and pretty much succeeding. A nice lady in the lobby took them down several corridors, their footsteps echoing as the upper half of the walls were painted and the lower half tiled. She took them to a door that had a sign ‘Mrs. Z. Dixon, Deputy Head’. She opened the door for them and went back to her duties.

  A small long faced lady in her fifties with a severe bun and wire rimmed spectacles stood up behind the desk.

  ‘I’ve been expecting you,’ she stated as she held her hand out.

  Mac introduced himself and Leigh.

  ‘Why were you expecting us exactly?’ Mac asked.

 

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