“Yes!” He sounds enthusiastic. “Yes.” Then, “I like the way you think, Ms Marsden. Lisa.”
Lisa feels herself blush at the intensity of that. Feels her skin prickle with the discomfort of it.
“...Well, it is my job.” She counters.
“Yes. It is.” he sounds lost in thought.
“Is there any evidence you can offer?” Lisa presses. “Proof that the car was sound when it left the factory?”
“No.” he shakes his head. “That's just the thing. That's what's got me...worried.”
“How?” Lisa asks it. She is interested now, despite her discomfiture.
“Well, my QA man, who was working on that batch of cars...he seems to have...disappeared.”
“What?” Lisa is shocked. She puts a hand over her mouth, continues more softly. “What do you mean?”
“Well...he hasn't been at work for two weeks now. He doesn't answer the phone. We've had to put out a missing person's call for him. But discreetly, you understand?”
Lisa nods. “Of course...Of course. The last thing you need right now is media attention. More media attention.”
He smiles at her. “You understand perfectly.” His gold-brown eyes hold hers.
Lisa looks down. Her skin prickles with unease.
“So, the only man who could have said conclusively that the car was sound; has disappeared? Am I right?” Lisa asks again.
Cedric is silent for a moment, looking into his wineglass at the amber reflected light off the dark surface. “Yes. Yes, you're right.”
“There's nobody who saw him before he left? Anyone who could prove some kind of attack?” Lisa asks. At least, if they can show the chief witness has been threatened, they could show someone is trying to undermine the case. That would point to sabotage. It already does. They just need proof.
“Would that there were.” he sounds tense; distressed. “No-one saw him leave work that day.”
“His family?”
“He lived alone.”
Lisa is silent for a moment in thought. “This is hard.”
“Yes.” His voice is low.
Lisa thinks for a while longer, then:
“You have records for the batch of cars? Quality assurance of the ones made at the same time?”
“Yes. That we have.”
“Good. I'll be wanting a copy.” She is brisk; crisp. Thinking about the case.
“I'll have them sent round.” He agrees.
“Anyone else you could call? The foreman on the floor? The engineer? A technician?”
“Well, we could call Andy.” Cedric muses. “The head foreman. Not that there's much he can say about it, mind. He can attest that the assembly was carried out the same as all the other cars; that nothing changed. That's pretty much all.”
“Well, that's something. Anyone else? What we really need is someone who would have seen the car following its assembly, but before sale, who could vouch that it, or at least the rest of the batch was sound.” Lisa's voice is alive with her thinking; driven. Focused.
“Yes.” He nods. “That's what we need. Someone to replace Pradip, now that he's...missing.”
“Quite.” Lisa agrees.
They are silent for a few moments.
“How about the dealer? The one she bought the car from?” Lisa asks, thinking aloud. “Do they check the vehicles before they sell them?”
“Your mind marches ahead.” Cedric sounds impressed; his voice low and warm. “I hadn't considered the dealer. Yes. Yes they check them. I could give him a call?”
“Do that.” Lisa's voice is brisk.
He smiles at her.
“What?”
“Well...has anyone ever told you, you look gorgeous when you're so intense?” His gold-green eyes are level with hers. Earnest. Intense. Asking a different question.
Lisa feels something tighten in her throat. “...no.” She manages.
“Well, they should have.” He continues, “It's true.”
Lisa coughs. Feels the warmth of blood rising in her face, her skin prickling over her shoulders.
Under the table, his leg nudges hers. She feels bile rise in her throat; fights it down. Smiles at him; her grin tight edged.
“I suggest...I suggest you call our office tomorrow morning. Send those documents. I will be calling this car-dealer as a witness. If you could wire me the details tomorrow?” She suggests brightly. Swivels her knee out of contact-range. “I think...we're both too tired to deliberate now. I know I am.”
“Quite. Quite.” he agrees; mildly. “I...I hope I haven't disturbed you, Ms Marsden?”
“...no.” Lisa begins “Not really.”
“Well, that means yes.” His voice is grave. “I would hate to do that.”
“Mmm.” Lisa is noncommittal. Inside, she feels vaguely ill.
They are silent for a moment.
“If that is all? I suggest we call for the bill?” Lisa asks it, her voice catching.
“Yes. Yes, we will.” He raises a hand, gestures to the waiter across the room.
The bill arrives; he pays it absently. The waiter leaves.
“Well...I think we have accomplished a lot?” Cedric asks, after the waiter has retreated. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Ms Marsden. I hope to repeat it?”
“...Uuh...” Lisa is lost for words. “... only if time constraints require us to meet up after work.”
She shudders. She will be trying her best to make sure they don't.
They stand; shake hands. Lisa leaves.
In the car, she rests her head on the steering wheel; exhausted. This case is so far from straightforward. And the hearing is in two day's time.
Chapter 10
“...Businessman turned philanthropist finances new gallery...”
Lisa is reading the newspaper, the words aloud under her breath. Her desk and the screen of her computer are littered with articles, case histories, market reports of sales, car-manufacturing guides, copies of magazines. She will leave no stone unturned in this case. The first hearing is tomorrow, and she must find as much as she can to back her case. Her belief in something underhand has grown, and she needs as much information as she can find before the case. All the resources she can think of are spread out across the desk at once.
Now, she is reading a newspaper article about the prominent businessman, Raju Patel, who is bringing the case against her client. She is sure, now, that there is sabotage involved. Whether her client is being blamed for damage that was later done on purpose, or whether they were somehow involved in it, she is still not sure. The missing Quality Assurance officer is a growing concern. No-one seems to know a thing about it or him, and, had he been here, he would have been chief witness. It is all very worrying.
On the page in front of her, Raju Patel smiles out of a gathering of men in suits; declaring open the new downtown gallery that he financed himself for public use. His name as a patron of the arts has added something to him, made people stop circulating the rumors that he has connections to the underworld of drugs. Somehow, people do not connect arts-patrons to shady, dangerous dealings. It has cleared his name and made him rather respectable; though people still mistrust him.
There are several articles in the same vein as this one. Raju Patel at some charity event. Handing over a prize for arts students that he has financed. Talking at the first opening of the Patel Innovation fund for recognizing young talents in the arts.
Other articles follow; show him at charity gatherings, at local events. One or two show him relaxing with family. These are in more popular magazines; showcasing the life of the local glitterati. His wife, Chetna, is on some of the pictures; a slender, delicate beauty with the style and flair of a Bollywood star.
Lisa is looking idly through a magazine article, detailing some aspect of life with the Patel family, when she glances at a photo. Stops. Turns back.
“It can't be.” She says under her breath. Her heart is thumping, and a cold sweat breaks out on her palms.
On the edge of a photograph from a family reunion of the Patel family, Raju in the centre, is a single man. The man from the car-park.
Lisa bends closer; looks again. She is sure of it. That man has a distinctive face; a scar on one side; flattened nose; high forehead. This man has the same. So. Somehow, the man in the carpark who has been watching her office – and now she is sure he has been – is connected with Raju Patel. She shivers.
Whatever is happening here, someone is doing something, and they are not fooling around. A man, the chief witness for her client, has gone missing. Facts are thin on the ground, and those that could help them are hard to come by. The car dealer, when she spoke to him yesterday, was reluctant to come forward. Requested safe custody before he would appear. She had it arranged, but thought it odd. Now, she is not so sure.
She shivers again. “Pull yourself together, Marsden.” She says to herself under her breath. “You're probably imagining things.” She goes over to the window.
Outside, in the centre of the carpark, is the same Volkswagen.
Lisa freezes.
She stands as still as possible; sways back from the window. Sinks into her chair.
Her hand finds the receiver. She lifts it; dials Sue's number.
“S?”
“Yes, Lisa?” Sue sounds earnest. She asked Lisa to call her if anything suspicious happened. She is instantly alert.
“Sue, things are making sense. And I don't think I like the sound of what sense they're making.”
“What sense are they making?”
“Well; that man. In the carpark. He is somehow connected with the Patels. I saw him on a photograph with the family. It's the same man – not many people have facial scars like that. He must be working for them.”
“Lisa?” Sue sounds afraid. “Is he there again?”
“He is. Listen,” Lisa continues. “I'll be alright.”
“You'll call the police?” Sue asks it, urgently.
“Yes. Yes, I will. This is serious. Someone has already gone missing in this case. And I think my chief witness was intimidated before. He's not saying, but he requested safe custody before agreeing to be a witness. I think he's being threatened to keep silent.”
“Hell, L.” Sue sounds worried.
“Quite.”
“Lisa? Please be careful.”
“I will.” Reassuring.
“And you will call the police?”
“Yes. I promise. He's here...they can arrest him right now, if they like. If nothing else, we could likely prosecute him for trespassing.” Lisa grins, trying to sound assured.
“Oh, L.” Sue breathes it; worry and exasperation mixed. Then,
“Call them?”
“I'll do it now. While they still have a chance to get him.”
“Good.” Sue's voice is calm, firm. The sound of home. “You do that. Love you.”
“Love you.”
Lisa puts the phone down. Breathes out. Rests for a moment, the sound of Sue's calm voice soothing her ragged nerves.
She stands, sways back from the window; moves round to the curtain so she can look out, unseen.
The car has gone.
Chapter 11
“Lisa?”
Sue has just arrived home. It is dark in the kitchen. She turns the light on; opens the blind to let in the late sunset's rays. The house is empty; the kitchen warm and still.
“Lisa?” She asks it again. Silence.
In itself, that is not unusual. Lisa is often late from work. Especially if there is heavy traffic, and especially just recently, with all the extra action happening at the firm's office. And besides, it is the day before an important case. Lisa is probably working late; preparing for tomorrow, Sue tells herself.
She takes her shoes off. The tight toes are pressing her feet, making her head ache. She carries them to the bedroom; puts them on the rack in her wardrobe. Goes back to the kitchen.
She cannot help but feel uneasy. Something is worrying her. Feels wrong.
“I'm sure it's nothing.” She tells herself, in a reasonable voice. “You worry too much, Ms Montmorency.”
She paces across the room, looks out at the hills, where the sunset has banked down to fiery coals behind the hills and night is falling fast. She watches the last rays. Pours some water and takes it through to the sitting room.
The television is set on the news. Scenes of chaos; pessimistic reports; violence. Sue switches it off after a minute. She dislikes the news at the best of times. Now, the last thing she needs is depression and violence.
She walks over to the long window at the far wall; watches the gathering blue-grey of evening. Feels the peace settle into her for a moment. Focuses her thoughts.
Someone has left Mozart in the CD player. Lisa. Sue smiles. Lisa likes Mozart; she and Sue bought the complete set together a few months ago, shortly after Lisa permanently moved in. She smiles, remembering back to then. When Lisa decides to do something, she does it swiftly. Within twenty-four hours, all her moveable goods were in the back of her Volvo, and installed in the cupboard or on the shelves in Sue's house. The car had to stay around the side, under the carport; there only being room for one in the designated parking-space built under the house.
They have bought some things together since then. The Mozart CD set; a lamp for the corner, for reading at night. New linen. Other things have come separately. Sue smiles at the porcelain vase that Lisa bought for her, filling the exact space that needed to be filled on the shelf across the room. The soft lighting shines on the pale curves of the porcelain; the veins of blue showing in the design of pure white. Lisa said it reminded her of Sue. Sue smiles; a warmth like pain in her heart.
“Lisa?” She asks herself. She looks at the clock. It reads a few minutes before eight-thirty. It is unlike her to be this late, not without phoning Sue to say she's had a delay of some sort. They always tell each other. It's part of their relationship.
“This is not like her.” Sue says to herself, aloud. Her voice is quiet in the still room; the soft furniture and finish on the paint muting sound.
Sue goes to the hallway; fetches her mobile from her bag. Dials Lisa at work.
The phone rings, and rings. After the eighth ring, Sue drops the call. Calls back. Still no reply.
She phones Lisa's mobile. That also rings off unanswered.
“Lisa?” Sue is worried.
She paces through the house to the kitchen; looks out of the window at the darkness spreading over the hills, thinking. Dials a number.
“Titus?”
“Yes? Titus Mokgotsi here. Can I help you?”
“Titus...This is Sue. Lisa's friend? Could you tell me if you saw Lisa at work after...after four p.m. today?”
“Hey! Ms Montmorency?” Titus sounds enthusiastic. “Yes. I saw Lisa. She was there when I left, at about five. Why?”
Lisa feels reassured at the tone, and at the confirmation that Lisa was at work after four; when she called to say she'd found the identity of the watcher.
“No..not to worry, Titus. I think I'm being silly.”
“No way. If you're worried, it's not silly.” He sounds genuinely concerned. “L has been really jumpy lately; stressed. This case is...not good. Not safe.”
“I know, Titus.” Sue's voice is stiff with worry.
“Well, she was fine when I left.” He confirms. “That seems a good thing.”
“It does.” Sue is relieved.
“You called her?”
“Yes, I did. There was no reply.”
“Hell.” Titus breathes out, heavily. Then, “Well, that might not be a bad thing...perhaps she's driving?” He asks, sounding hopeful. 'You'd rather she didn't talk if she was driving. You know Lisa,” he continues. “A hands-free set for her means that she's driving with her knees.”
They both laugh. “Yes. That's true.” Sue says, voice warm.
“Well, I'll keep an eye out, and if I hear anyt
hing, I'll call.” Titus offers.
“Do that.” Sue affirms. “And...thank you.”
“No problem.”
After she has hung up, Sue wanders back to the sitting room. She leaves her mobile on the counter, and sits on the velvety leather couch, her knees curled underneath her.
Titus is probably right. She is probably driving. Sue lets herself relax, settled somewhat by his lively enthusiasm; his inability to be discouraged or deterred. The relief of tension flows through her. She is still worried, but less so. The tension of the day and the demands of work and meetings flow through her, exhausting her. She dozes.
Sue is woken a few minutes later from her doze by the sound of her mobile. She reaches for it groggily, the light low and her mobile somewhere on the counter behind her. Her fingers find it, open the message. It is a text message, from Lisa.
‘Kidnapped.’
Sue feels herself grow cold. Her mind stops. Does not understand the word. She reads it again; slowly; each letter flowing in at its own time through the numbing worry. Her brain wraps itself around the word trying to deny it; to believe it isn't true. She clicks “Call”, holds the mobile to her ear. The line on the other side is cut off. Engaged. The tone of it rings off into the darkness.
I Told You to Be Careful (Gold Streaks Book 2) Page 4