“And? What did they tell you?”
Dan walked in and closed the door. He was conscious of the thin walls. He kept his voice to a low volume. “They make videos. Specifically, they make ASMR videos. It’s quiet stuff. All about relaxation for the viewers. That’s how they make their money. In a sense, they’re homebased entrepreneurs, like you.”
“They’re nothing like me,” said Ronson. “And if these videos are so quiet, then how come they make so much awful noise. You should hear it.”
Dan shrugged. “I think I can read between the lines on that. They say they film around three videos a night, no longer than twenty minutes each. That’s an hour of filming. I guess there’s editing and promotion to take care of, but still that’s not much work, time wise. I’ve looked in their house. I’ve seen and smelt what they get up to. These people have a lot of spare time, like you do. Unfortunately for you, they’re party animals too.”
“Party animals? I’m sorry, that’s not it at all. And that doesn’t explain their interest in young Kitty Mellot. It’s unhealthy is what it is. It’s dangerous.”
“So you’ve said. Don’t worry. We’ll look into it.”
“And you’re going now?”
Dan looked at Mark and nodded. “Yeah. Like I said, we’ll look into it. Starting with verifying what they told us.”
“You’re leaving me in the lurch is what you’re doing. I think you’ve just stirred up a hornets’ nest.”
“I’m actually hoping I’ve just calmed everything down. But look. If anything bad happens, call me. If they make too much noise, record it so I hear it for myself. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”
“It’ll have to be, won’t it?”
Dan rolled his eyes at Mark when Ronson wasn’t looking.
“Chin up, Mr Ronson. We’re on board. And we’re going to make sure nothing happens to Kitty, I can promise you that.”
Ronson looked into Dan’s eyes and gave a single nod. Dan walked to the door and Mark followed.
“See you tomorrow, Mr Ronson,” said Dan. Mark said his goodbyes and the man closed the door behind them. They heard him slide the chain into place and flick the snib.
“The cautious type,” said Mark.
“I think you’re being generous,” said Dan.
“And you’re being a little harsh on the guy.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“What next?” said Mark.
“First thing we do is look into the ASMR stuff. We need to know what those people are on about. And we need to know if it stacks up. After that, we start looking at Ronson. As things stand, our new client is as much of a concern as the neighbours.”
“Because of the girl?” said Mark.
“Exactly,” said Dan. “But before all of that, I need to clear my head. The girl next door asked me what I do to relax. Ever since she asked me all I can think of is a pint of beer. You got time for one?”
Mark shrugged. “If you’ve got the money.”
They walked away from Ronson’s house as he drew his living room curtains tight shut. In the house next door, the woman with the bleached hair stood alongside the brunette at the first floor window looking out, with the curtains hung over their backs. They watched Dan and Mark walk away, sharing a joke the men outside couldn’t hear. Downstairs, Mr Bleach looked on unseen, peering from the window by the door.
Ten
Evening.
Eva had been back in old Mrs Jaeger’s street only a few minutes and she had already received a string of angst-filled texts. Lauren was on edge again – of course she was – it was understandable under the circumstances. But Eva didn’t feel any sympathy, not any more. The new Lauren was just as unpleasant as the old one, but with a few more tricks up her sleeve. Joanne had warned her to be careful and Eva intended to be. But for the sake of her own sanity, she was also in a hurry to get Lauren Jaeger out of her life for good. First they had to handle the Boothroyd problem.
Eva’s phone buzzed and a new message popped up on screen. The phone screen illuminated Eva’s face with pale light and she looked at the white Kia Sportage parked a few cars ahead. She wondered if the man inside had noticed the low-key light show. Eva read the message then turned the phone face down on her lap.
I’ve packed my stuff. Ready now.
Eva texted back. I’m still watching him. I’ll text you when.
Now everything came down to the man in the Kia. When he moved, so would they. Lauren had said that the last few nights she and the old woman had had gone to bed around ten, turning all the lights out in her mother’s bungalow before turning in. After that point, Lauren hadn’t dared go near a window for fear that she would find the man standing directly outside the glass or aiming a rifle at her face. In the mornings, Lauren said she only checked the street once she was sure the town was busy with people rushing to work and school. Which left a good deal of time unaccounted for – as much as ten hours by Eva’s reckoning. Time, Eva guessed, which Boothroyd used take care of his own needs. At some point everyone needed a break, even a hitman. And Eva was counting on it. She looked across the street to the bungalow as the lights switched off one by one. The lounge light first, next the flickering light of the TV, followed by the brassy yellow glow in the small bathroom by the front door. Within a couple of minutes the whole place was silent and dark. Eva’s eyes tracked to the silhouette in the Sportage. She saw the hazy edge of the driver’s profile looking across the street. Eva watched the shadow turn his head towards the bungalow, as if waiting to make sure. And the man was thorough about it. He waited a solid twenty minutes before Eva finally noticed him moving inside the car. Eva thumbed her text message.
Lauren – get ready. He’s about to move. But don’t do anything until I say.
The reply came back almost as fast.
Ready.
Again, Eva texted: Wait.
The car’s red tail lights came on and the Kia’s engine coughed into life and rumbled as the driver began to reverse his way out of his parking space.
Another text: He’s leaving. Wait for my signal.
Eva bit her lip as the Sportage pulled out into the road. To reach the main road and everything beyond, the Kia needed to turn and double back, but the cars parked on either side prevented such a move. Instead, the Kia kept on reversing. The car whined on, and Eva turned her face away from the glass at the last moment when the Sportage sped past. The driver showed no sign of having seen her and the car reversed up one of the private driveways before turning out, bonnet first, onto the side street leading to the main road and London beyond.
Eva sent the text: Now.
The front door opened and Lauren sprang out of the bungalow. Tonight she was no more than an apparition of black and grey. Lauren was careful, but as the white car moved away, Eva willed her to hurry. If they didn’t catch up with him, they would certainly lose him until the following day. But with Blane knowing they were still investigating his lies, waiting wasn’t an option. “Come on, come on!” muttered Eva. She started the engine to send Lauren a message. Eva pulled out of her parking space and started to reverse the same way as the Sportage. Lauren came running towards her. As Eva finished turning the car for the side street, Lauren ran around the front of the bonnet. She opened the door and jumped inside.
“I thought you weren’t going to wait!”
“If you were much longer, I wasn’t.”
“I came as fast as I could.”
“I know. But we have to deal with him tonight, Lauren. Blane knows I accessed his emails. Whatever his plan was before, he’ll want to get the job done before we can cause him any further trouble. And I did find a few things – before Blane deleted them that is.”
“What?”
“Someone else was in his work email account when I was looking through his emails. They saw what I was looking at.”
Eva looked at Lauren, checking her eyes to see if Lauren had been the one in the account. After all, Lauren had given her the log-in credentials
in the first place. And Eva knew she was unpredictable. But Lauren shook her head in response. The look in her eye seemed genuine. Seemed…
Eva explained as she drove, pulling out onto the London Road.
“The emails I saw looked pretty innocuous unless you knew the events behind them and could join the dots. Car rentals paid for by Blane Recruitment. The rentals looking like they could be really important.”
“Car rentals? How?” said Lauren, confused.
“These rentals were made with lengthy gaps between them – but we already know the significance of some. One of the rentals covered May 2016. Can you see a connection?”
Lauren frowned for a moment in confusion. “May, 2016…? Do you mean the accident? You think you’ve found proof that this guy killed Blane’s wife?”
“It fits with what you found in Blane’s personal emails.”
“So you believe me now?” said Lauren.
“The evidence I’ve seen would support what you told me.”
“Huh,” said Lauren.
“Yes, I think it’s possible she died in another hit, likely even.”
“A hit organised by the ever-loving Jamie Blane,” sneered Lauren.
“But now this latest batch of emails has been deleted we’re almost back to square one, which is another reason we need to surprise the man in the Sportage. He could be in possession of what we need, but if not, I know there’ll be other evidence out there. But even if he doesn’t have evidence, we need him off our backs before we can find some.”
“It’s unthinkable, isn’t it? What Jamie is capable of,” said Lauren.
“Yes. He’s not ideal partner material.”
“Understatement of the century,” said Lauren.
Eva glanced at Lauren, noting she was dressed in clothing she had never seen the woman wear before. A black tracksuit with a hooded top. Eva wondered if they were the only spare clothes she had taken before she left Blane. Whatever the reason, the tracksuit certainly didn’t match the smart, chic Lauren she had first met at Southend Central train station just a few short weeks back. And it certainly didn’t look like the kind of clothes a former fashion journalist would wear. Joanne’s voice replayed in her mind. She never had been a fashion journalist. Lauren must have noticed something in her eyes.
“What? You don’t like the tracksuit? I wanted to be warm, that’s all,” she explained. “And besides, if this man sees us, I’ll need to be able to run.”
Eva nodded in understanding, though she herself was dressed, as ever, in one of her usual all-occasion skirt and jacket suits. Tweed, naturally. After far too many years in the business, Eva knew she didn’t need anything else to get job done, except a little luck. But lately luck had been in short supply.
“So what else did you see in those emails?” said Lauren.
“Besides the 2016 car hire, I saw emails relating to the latest hire – the white Kia Sportage, and the name Adam also features in one of the Ironvelvet emails. Get this. In that email the man whose name appears to be Adam Boothroyd – instructs Blane never to email that address again.”
Lauren frowned.
Eva explained. “I’m pretty sure that’s because Blane’s email inadvertently connected Ironvelvet to his real name.”
Lauren’s eyes narrowed in the darkness, but she still didn’t seem to get the significance.
“Lauren – we now have a name for this guy,” said Eva. She changed gears as they flew along the London Road, pressing the accelerator harder as she went.
“You found a real name for the hitman? The man in the white car?”
“Yes,” said Eva.
“And how does that help us?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s a criminal of the worst kind. If we ID this guy we have power over him.”
“As long as he doesn’t kill us first,” said Lauren.
“Which is why we’re turning the tables. We know these car hires look connected to some very serious events – Mrs Blane’s fatal accident and the planned hit on you for starters, but who’s to say those car hires weren’t for other hits too?”
Lauren frowned. “I get that. But it sounds to me like you’ve been fixating on 2016. Evidence, leverage and all that. Don’t do it. You did that before, remember, and it didn’t help us then, either.”
“Maybe not,” said Eva. “But it could help us now. Why not? If the poor woman didn’t die by accident, we might be able to locate proof. Do that and we have Boothroyd and Blane by the short and curlies.”
“I get the idea, but we’re driving after a killer, Eva. All the theorising in the world won’t help us against him.”
“Humour me, Lauren, I’m an investigator. You hired me for this stuff. And who knows how far we’ll be driving?”
“Okay, okay. Then get it off your chest,” said Lauren.
“The facts… In May 2016 Blane Recruitment rented a Vauxhall Corsa CDTi. A very fast little car from the look of the spec, unusual too to go for such a mid-range car. Either a firm goes cheap or they go executive and pay through the nose. Why go mid-range and get a sports model?”
“You’ve never worked in recruitment, have you? These sales types can be a bit precious about their personalities. It’s an ego thing.”
“But the boss picks up the cost. Surely Blane wouldn’t pay for an ego trip. Anyway. The car hires will be on the books of both firms. Blane and Reva Rentals. That’s evidence.”
Lauren nodded. “Okay…”
“After that I looked up the original accident reports from 2016 – both the police records and the press report from Blane’s wife’s accident. The police report was there, but it was open-and-shut. The A12 is an accident hotspot. They deal with a lot of this stuff.”
“You’ve been a busy girl,” said Lauren.
“I have some friends in the force, and I had some time to kill,” said Eva. “Now, there isn’t much mentioned in the police report, but something was mentioned in the North Essex Gazette. The police were quoted saying that they wanted to speak to the driver of a blue Vauxhall Corsa that was seen driving erratically in the vicinity of the accident. A Vauxhall Corsa, Lauren – just like the Corsa rented in May 2016. The car rental overlaps with Mrs Blane’s death. Now that can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“But surely there would be records of the Corsa being involved? CCTV for instance? Traffic cameras and all that.”
“Normally yes, but not back in 2016. There were a lot of roadworks going on back then, and the speed cameras and traffic cams had been taken out along that stretch of road.. The A12 isn’t much more than a concrete strip, and it always has been an accident blackspot. Essex Police probably take an annual attrition rate for granted. That would explain the flimsy police report. Blane’s wife would have been just another fatal accident on the A12. There’s no further report saying that the Corsa driver was ever convicted. No one was. The fatality was recorded as accidental. I dare say the Vauxhall driver thinks he got away with it.”
“Ironvelvet,” said Lauren. “Jamie did get away with it.”
“So far, yes. But those emails were all pointing in the same direction as the witnesses who saw that Corsa. If we can somehow get access to those deleted emails, or find some other evidence, we might just be able to prove that our man in the Sportage was responsible for Mrs Blane’s murder.”
Lauren blinked and raised her eyebrows as the information sank in. “Which in turn puts Jamie in the frame. I see where you’re going. If we get that far.
“We’re back to the leverage game. And by the time we have evidence, it’ll be checkmate.”
“It’s like I told you before,” said Lauren. “We had proof on the original emails.”
“Yes, but they’re gone. And that’s why we have to do this another way.”
“And that’s why we’re following him? To collect evidence? Eva, that’s madness. That man has wanted me out of that bungalow ever since I’ve been there. Chasing the guy to collect information is giving him what he wants.
&n
bsp; “We’re not just collecting evidence. We’re following him because unless he’s stopped, we won’t have the opportunity to prove anything. They’ll try and hit us soon and hit hard so we can’t prove the link to any of those crimes. Blane knows we’re onto him, Lauren. We have to assume the hitman does too. And you didn’t have to come. I can let you out right now. You can grab a taxi back to your mother’s place.”
Lauren looked at Eva but stayed silent as the light of the street lamps, traffic and the glow of a passing petrol station washed over her face.
“No,” she said, firmly. “What good is there in that? I’m a prisoner again. And if you’re going to deal with him it has to be done right. If I’d been there when you faced Jamie the first time, things would have ended there. We wouldn’t be in this situation now.”
Eva kept her mouth tight shut. The Kia raced ahead of them pulling away whenever the road was clear, slowing only when it reached another batch of slower cars blocking the way. The way the hitman was driving, once they reached the national speed limit Eva knew she would have a job to keep up. Lauren had cheesed her off again. She didn’t much feel like talking.
Play With Fire Page 13