by W. Soliman
“You know how it looks, Charlie, your refusing to say why you went to see Miller again.”
“Not guilty, guv,” I said, causing Jimmy’s lips to quirk.
I felt like smiling myself at how easy it was to wind her up. But smiling at the best of times didn’t do a lot for me and at that particular moment it was hardly appropriate.
Slater was right about one thing. This didn’t look good for me. That meant I’d have to find out who really did kill Miller, because Slater would never get there on her own.
Bored now, I finally told her what I’d been holding back.
“Has it occurred to you that I might not have been visiting Miller on the day he was killed?” I could see from her expression that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. “Look up the names of the rest of the residents before trying to pin this thing on me.” I drained the last of my coffee from its plastic cup and grimaced. I’d forgotten just how vile it tasted. “Now, I’m done here, and if you’re not arresting me I’ll be off.”
“Sit down, Mr. Hunter,” Slater said authoritatively.
I remained standing. “Or what?”
“You’re not under arrest now but you soon might be if you don’t cooperate.”
“You’ve had all the cooperation you’re gonna get out of me.” I moved toward the door. “But don’t take it badly. You know where to find me if you ever get enough to bring me in. Thanks for the coffee, if that’s what it actually was. I know the way out.”
She sighed. “Go with him, Taylor, and make sure he leaves the premises.”
“Christ, Charlie,” Jimmy said as soon as we were alone. “Sorry about that. She’s a real bitch, but then you don’t need me to tell you that. She couldn’t believe her luck when she saw you on that CCTV footage. It was like all her Christmases had come together. But then she’s had it in for you ever since you pissed her off.” Jimmy pulled a doomed face. “Talk about bearing a grudge. You should have given her one when you had the chance. It would have done us all a favour.”
I shuddered. “Think I’d prefer to take my chances, if it’s all the same to you.”
Jimmy grinned. “It’s your funeral, mate.”
I sauntered through the squad room beside Jimmy as though I didn’t have a care in the world, and waved to some of my old mates. They waved back, regarding me in a friendly way now that it was clear I was no longer under suspicion about anything.
Once we were outside, Jimmy’s entire demeanour changed. He concentrated his gaze on the pavement as he formulated his next words. I could already guess what was coming.
“Look,” he said, “I didn’t tell her about what you asked me to do.”
“I know you didn’t and I appreciate it.”
“I might have to though if she carries on with this vendetta against you.”
“Do what you have to do, mate. Don’t drop yourself in it because of me.”
“I know you didn’t murder anyone, Charlie, and she probably knows it too. If I thought for a moment that you had anything to do with it then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Jimmy, you don’t have to—”
“The super only allowed her to bring you in for questioning because he wants to play this by the book and not have it look as though he was going easy on one of our own. But if she knew of your interest in the offshore company Miller fronted then it would give her what she needs to hold you on suspicion and to search your gaff.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. “She won’t find anything because there’s nothing to find.”
“No, but she’d enjoy embarrassing you.”
I conceded the point with an irritated nod. “Yeah, but all she’s got right now is circumstantial.”
“You think that’ll stop her.” He kicked moodily at a loose drinks can. “But I owe you big time, mate, and I’ll keep stum for as long as I can.”
He was right about that. He did owe me. When I’d been in the job, he’d stupidly jeopardised his marriage by having a meaningless fling. His wife found out about it, took the kids and ran off to her mother’s. Jimmy, full of remorse, hit the bottle and fell apart. I covered for him and helped him to get his act together. His marriage was now solid again, his career back on track and I wasn’t about to let him risk it again because of me.
“Look, Jimmy, I can’t tell you what’s going on. Even if I could, it’s better that you don’t know. I’ll clear it up myself but it would help if I knew what other names were in Miller’s appointment book immediately after I called on him.”
He was silent for a moment. “I could probably find that out,” he said a bit reluctantly.
“Don’t take any risks.” What I’d really like to see was the contents of Miller’s file on Holder Enterprises but I knew the likelihood of that happening was just about zero. I asked the question anyway. “What about his files?” Jimmy shot me a disbelieving look. “Just asking,” I said mildly.
“There weren’t any that I saw.”
I thought about that. “I didn’t see any evidence of paper records whilst I was with him either but I figured they might be in another room.”
“Well, if they were, they aren’t now. One of his partners called the murder in. Apparently Miller didn’t turn up for a vital board meeting and wasn’t answering his home phone or his mobile. That was so unusual that alarm bells rang and someone went round to see if he was all right.”
“How did they get in?”
“Spare key at the office. His firm own that flat and Miller rented it from them. By the time we got there, Miller’s laptop was gone and a desk drawer had been unlocked and emptied. His partners are claiming client confidentiality and won’t let us near his computer without a warrant.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“They’re trying to act like concerned citizens and have said that if there’s anything on it to help our investigation they’ll pass it on.”
I expelled a long breath. “More concerned with the image of the firm than with seeing justice done.”
“That’s how it came across to me.”
I started walking slowly along the pavement. It wouldn’t do for anyone in the nick to see us in conversation for too long. “There’s something going on here and I’m not sure yet what it is. I’ll do some digging if only to exonerate myself. Presumably you’re looking at Miller’s phone records.”
“Of course.”
“Well, if any interesting names crop up—”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, mate.”
“What were you doing at that building on the day Miller died?” Jimmy asked. “Just as a matter of interest, like.”
I flashed a brief smile. “Paying a social call on my stepbrother.”
The wrinkles on Jimmy’s brow immediately flattened themselves out. “Then why didn’t you tell her that and get her off your back?”
I quirked a brow. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Jimmy guffawed. “But it puts you in the clear. You have an alibi.”
“No, unfortunately I don’t. If I did I’d have told her. Eventually. But Paul wasn’t in. That’s why I was in and out of the building so quickly.”
“Fuck it!”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, I’d better get back to work but I’ll give you a bell with the names in Miller’s appointment book when I can.”
“And if anything interesting comes up on his phone records?”
“I’ll let you know that too.”
“Thanks, Jimmy, I owe you one.”
Chapter Six
I returned to a rapturous welcome from Gil and a more guarded one from Cleo.
“What happened?” she asked. “You’ve been gone for ages and I was getting worried.”
&nb
sp; I reached for a beer and then changed my mind, going for whisky instead. Cleo seemed angry but I figured that was just her way of dealing with stressful situations. She wasn’t the emotional, weepy type and for that I was grateful.
“Oh, just my ex-colleague trying to peg me as a murderer.” I shrugged, trying to make light of it.
“Don’t be so flippant, Charlie.”
“Sorry, it’s been a long morning.” I slumped onto the seating unit and took a healthy swig of my drink. Cleo paced a couple more circuits of the limited floor space before she joined me. “It looks as though I’m going to have to get to the bottom of this whole business myself,” I said wearily. “Slater won’t let it go until I can prove I’m not involved.”
“But you can prove it. You were in and out of the building too quickly to have murdered anyone.”
I harrumphed. “That won’t stop her from needling away at me.”
“She can’t do that, can she?”
I shot her a look that said don’t be so naïve. “You ought to know the score by now. How many years did you live under the same roof as your old man?”
“Yeah but he was a career villain. He expected your lot to come calling whenever anything with his moniker on it went down locally and didn’t hold it against you.” She flashed me a sapient smile. “Bet you never thought you’d be on the receiving end of police harassment.”
“You wouldn’t get very good odds on a bet like that.” I twisted my lips into a parody of a smile that quickly faded as I thought the matter through. “Slater will keep at me just because she can. And one thing’s for sure, she’ll be so obsessed with pinning the whole thing on me that she won’t look too hard anywhere else and then—”
“And then the murderer’s trail will go stone-cold.”
“Yeap.” I exhaled slowly. “That’s about the size of it.”
“All right then. What can I do to help?”
“I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”
“That won’t work. I got you into this so I’m staying around for the duration.”
“All right then, it’s your turn to cook.” I ducked the blow that she aimed at me, pleased to see her finally crack a genuine smile.
“I had something a little more practical in mind.”
“There’s nothing more practical than food.”
She rolled her eyes but got up and rummaged about in the galley without further protest. “I certainly don’t believe that.”
“I’m emotionally drained after my ordeal at the hands of the brutal police,” I said, milking the situation for all I was worth. “Besides, I can’t think properly on an empty stomach.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point. But, just so that you know, I’m no Delia Smith so don’t expect any sort of gourmet experience.”
She rustled up a pasta dish with salad and crusty bread. I wolfed it down, causing Cleo to make some cryptic remark about my ordeal not having affected my appetite.
“So, Charlie,” she said when we’d cleared up and were back on the seating unit, my arm draped round her shoulders, jazz playing softly in the background. “What’s our next…say, what’s that music?”
“It’s Oscar Peterson.”
“It’s cool.” She tilted her head and regarded me quizzically. “You listen to a lot of jazz. Isn’t that what was playing in your cabin last night when we—”
“The rhythm helps me to maintain my…er, rhythm.”
She laughed at my lame attempt at humour.
“I was rather hoping you’d appreciate my harmonic diversity.”
“I’m sure I did. Whatever that is.” She smiled at me. “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there. Jazz is a big part of who you are.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know really.” She threw her head back and rotated it slowly, as though forcing herself to relax. “It’s just that at times of high emotion, or stress, you automatically turn to music. And it’s always some sort of jazz. I think I could get to predict your moods through your choice of music, is what I’m trying to say.”
I didn’t want to get into a discussion about jazz, aware of where it would lead, and brought the conversation back to more pressing matters. I told her Jimmy had promised to get me more information about Miller’s recent appointments and phone calls.
“How will that help?”
Good question. “Who knows? Can’t say until I know who he’s been dealing with. That’s how detecting goes. You niggle away at every little angle until something interesting pops up. It usually does, eventually.”
“If you say so.” She stretched and settled herself into a more comfortable position, her tucked up knees resting on my thigh. “So, what do we do in the meantime?”
“What, right now?”
She giggled. “I have a pretty good idea what’s on your mind right now.”
“Hey, I’m still traumatised.”
“You could get counselling.”
“I prefer my method of coping.”
I kissed her because it seemed like the right thing to do. Because it was what I wanted to do. She leaned toward me and returned that kiss with fervour. Five minutes later, clothes indiscriminately discarded along the way, we were in bed having brutal sex. I was starting to understand her. She enjoyed harsh physical contact, no talk and little emotional investment. She wrapped those long legs of hers round my neck and lifted her hips, taking everything on offer with a hunger that was infectious.
In all other aspects of her life she appeared to be self-contained and completely in control. But between the sheets she was insatiable, which was a definite turn-on. I liked to think it was my skill as a lover that wrought such a change in her but suspected she was one of those women who simply enjoyed sex and wasn’t ashamed for her partner of choice to know it.
We fell asleep afterwards, me feeling strangely unsatisfied despite having had completely satisfying sex. Then Gil’s reproachful whining reminded me that he hadn’t had his run. I sat up and reached for my clothes. As I stepped into my jeans my phone rang. It was Jimmy, with interesting information to impart.
“Thanks, mate,” I said. “I appreciate it…Sure I will. As soon as I know anything I’ll be in touch.”
“What was that all about?” Cleo asked.
“Something odd. Jimmy tells me that Reg Turner had an appointment with Miller the very day before me.”
“Reg?” She elevated her brows. “That mate of my dad’s. How can he afford the services of a top-end brief like Miller?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” I said, buckling my belt. “I told you something interesting would pop up.”
“Are you going to take Gil for his run?” Cleo asked. “I’ll come with you.”
I manfully resisted reaching for her pert breasts by not dwelling on the way they bounced when she sat up. “Better not. I need to track Turner down and it’s probably best if I do that alone.”
“Do you know where to find him?”
“Unless he’s changed his habits since I quit the force, which I rather doubt.”
“Oh, all right then.” She frowned. “What else did Jimmy say?”
“He mentioned another name that was in the appointment book, but I’m not sure if it means anything.”
“Who was it?”
“Andrea Garnet.”
Her head shot up. “Garnet?”
“Yes. Her husband has fingers in all sorts of pies. His owns racehorses, has a string of nightclubs here on the south coast and a posh health spa in Hove.”
“I know it by reputation. It recently had a huge makeover.”
“He used to hang out with all sorts of dubious characters but we were never able to pin anything on him. Nowadays he’s respectable, on
the surface anyway, and has friends in high places. If he’d been the one contacting Miller, it wouldn’t have surprised me but I’d like to know what business his wife had with him.”
“Andrea Garnet.” Cleo leaned up on one elbow and supported her head on her hand. “She comes to the casino sometimes. She plays poker for high stakes and doesn’t seem to care if she loses.”
“With the sort of money her husband brings in, she wouldn’t have to.”
“I’ve never met him. She always has a guy there with her but I don’t think he’s her husband.”
“Well then, that might be a useful way to get chatting to her. You can give me a call the next time she comes to the club.”
“She’ll eat you alive, Charlie. She loves men in general and something tells me you’d be right down her street.”
I offered her a mock bow. “I aim to please.”
She threw a pillow at my retreating back.
Gil and I caught a bus to the less salubrious part of town. By the time we reached our destination it was gone nine o’clock. Exactly right. I pushed open the doors to the old-fashioned saloon bar of the equally old-fashioned Dog and Duck and was almost asphyxiated by the cigarette smoke that drifted out to greet me. The bar itself was as shabby as the rest of the place, the ceiling a dull nicotine colour, the wallpaper faded and peeling away in places. I preferred not to dwell upon the origins of the substances that stuck to the soles of my shoes, impeding my progress as I traversed the uneven floorboards. The lighting was dim, its effectiveness further reduced by the cloud of smoke hovering just below ceiling height like a vengeful celestial body. I wasn’t surprised to discover that the smoking ban had passed this establishment by.
Two men sat in front of an ineffective single-bar electric fire and looked up briefly as Gil and I entered. Two women, obviously working girls taking a break, sat at one end of the bar. They were drinking what looked like gin and tonic, adding to the polluted atmosphere by puffing away on unfiltered cigarettes. They visibly brightened when I walked in but turned away in disgust when I shook my head.
Reg was just where I expected to find him, holding up one end of the bar, the remains of a pint of bitter in front of him. I slipped onto the stool next to him and attracted the attention of the brassy-looking barmaid. Gil gave Reg’s trousers a thorough sniffing and, finding nothing too objectionable adhering to them, flopped onto the greasy floor between us with a heavy sigh.