Detective Amanda Lacey Box Set

by Linda Coles

  Chapter Forty-Five

  She slept soundly that night, tired out from her lack of sleep from the night before and the resemblance of a workable plan progressing nicely in the back of her mind like coffee percolating slowly on the stove. As she broke through to wakefulness, she stretched and glanced at her clock. It was still early. Her alarm was not due to go off for another thirty minutes and she dug deeper into her duvet to adjust more to the dawning morning light. Thoughts of what she’d learned yesterday drifted into her mind and made themselves at home, the much-needed sleep helping her gain clarity on what was about to happen. There were a couple of steps she needed to get in place today, someone she needed to get help from without raising any alarm bells, as well as getting her equipment in order. At this stage, she couldn’t tell just when she was going to pay Sebastian a visit. That would depend on him to some extent, but if he was feeling stressed, and she knew he was, he might be more inclined to need his submissive fix sooner rather than later. Could that be the way to go? The scenario also had its drawbacks, but then so did being a cleaner.

  With the weak sunshine peeking through the cracks in her curtains, she swung her legs out of bed, reaching to turn the alarm off before it pierced the quiet, and padded her way downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, she brewed tea, filled a bowl with cornflakes and sat watching the world wake up through the kitchen window. She picked her phone up and prepared a message:

  Pete, fancy a drink after work tonight? I’m buying.

  Not expecting him to be up and online just yet, she carried on with her cereal. She was surprised to hear her phone chirp almost immediately.

  If you’re buying, I’m coming! Where and when?

  He made her smile; he had always been a cute kid when they’d lived as close friends and neighbours down the same street some years ago. Their age difference had never been a problem; Pete had been grateful for the friendship. When his mother had died at the hands of his father when he had only been thirteen, he’d ended up in a series of foster homes, but Philippa had always kept in contact with him, like a big sister, trying to look out for him where she could. She’d thought of taking him in herself, but university and then her career had prevented her. She was not willing to give her life up totally for a young lad down the road. And so he’d ended up in the system, then done a spell in juvie for petty crimes, his way of dealing and rebelling at how life had treated him. Now, at twenty years old, he’d straightened himself out, got a proper job, and put his talents to good use. He was a bright young man, and as long as he stayed with the right crowd and didn’t get lured back into his old life, he’d make a go of himself. She tapped back a response:

  Meet you outside your office, say 6 pm? We can grab a burger if you like. Not had one since forever ago. Need a greasy-melted-cheese-with-ketchup fix. And a beer. Had too much lettuce and salad of recent.

  Perfect. Sounds good. See you later.

  Great. Now all she needed to do was drop her questions into their seemingly innocent conversation about spyware and she’d have what she needed to get the plan moving. Until she could access Sebastian’s computer, she wasn’t going to get far, and Pete was going to prove invaluable. She chewed cornflakes thoughtfully, mulling over her two plans, then stopped as an unwelcome thought came to her. If she somehow managed to get Daniela’s lanyard, she needed to make sure she could actually gain access to his apartment and that he would be there. As she hadn’t got access to much of his life yet and hadn’t the time to stake his routine out for a couple more weeks, she had no way of knowing what his life held, or his diary for that matter; Georgia would be suspicious if she asked her outright. How exactly could she find out without looking suspicious?

  Stealing the key card had its drawbacks too: Daniela would simply get another key pass from her employer, and could very well end up walking in on her as she was bang in the middle of the deed. That then posed a problem with what to do with her, a witness, and as Philippa had no beef with her, it would be a senseless death.

  And she wasn’t sure she could do that.

  No, it was too risky, and because of that, she discarded the idea of playing maid for the morning.

  That left one other feasible option: she was going to have to be hooker for the evening.

  As long as she could get access to Sebastian’s keystrokes and monitor what he did online, it wouldn’t be too hard. She could gain access easily. Once she was at the building at the designated time, he’d let her in readily and she’d play the part well—up to a point. And if the doorbell chimed from another waiting escort while she was inside with him, it would simply be ignored. She’d never heard of hookers having their own sets of keys and doubted his next hooker would be any different.

  The next bit of her plan was to finalise her supplies and costume. She drank down the last mouthful of warm tea and headed upstairs to get ready for work, thinking about what to wear as a submissive for the event to come.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  She left her car in the station car park and rode the train into London to meet Pete. No sense trying to navigate the traffic or find a parking space around Green Park at rush hour. It was coming up to six as she exited the tube station and headed towards his office, and she could see him loitering in the distance, leaning up against the wall, one foot bent up behind him to balance himself. He waved as he saw her approach and she waved back.

  Pete had always been generous with his affection towards her and welcomed her with wide-open arms that quickly turned into a bear hug.

  “Oooh, it’s so good to see you as always,” he cooed, keeping a firm hold on her then pulling back slightly.

  “And you too, though if I can’t breathe I’m not going to be much good as a burger partner tonight,” she said, laughing back with affection.

  “I’ve missed you a bit, that’s all.” He took a step back and looked her up and down. “And you look great, by the way. Have you been working out?”

  “No, not really, but I’ll take the compliment anyway. Just working hard.”

  “So, where we headed first, then? Food, beer or a bar with both? I’m famished!”

  “Let’s go for bar with both. Where’s new around here?”

  “Nothing much that I know of, but what about a walk to Soho? Always something new popping up there. Let’s be adventurous.” Pete winked at Philippa as he turned in the direction of London’s trendy Soho area. Philippa fell into step beside him. There was a comfortable minute or two of silence before Pete asked her a question.

  “Was there something in particular that you wanted to see me for or just to catch up?” His naturally acute perceptive skills had heightened during his time in juvie and had helped him avoid trouble on several occasions. Now he found his skill useful in many aspects of his life—like sussing someone out that had an ulterior motive, or wasn’t being totally honest about something.

  “Nothing gets past your radar, does it?” said Philippa brightly. “You’ve got me. I do have something on my mind.”

  Turning his head and smiling at Philippa as they walked, he said, “Just one of my many skills. Now tell me what I can help you with.”

  Philippa had been prepared for this and had, she hoped, the perfect scenario ready. She also hoped he wouldn’t see straight through her story.

  “It’s not for me I need your help. It’s for a friend. She’s convinced her husband is having an affair and wants to snoop a little, but not with a private detective. With spyware.

  “I see. Go on.”

  “He’s been visiting escort sites, she thinks, and wants to set him up to serve him right, but in order to do that, she needs access …”

  “To his computer.” He finished the sentence for her. “And let me guess, she needs to clone his keystrokes and point to a fake page of her own to set the trap.”

  Philippa turned towards him and caught his eye. She blushed a little at being caught out. While she knew he could sort the keystroke cloning part out, she hadn’t thought about the fake w
eb page. The idea pleased her, though, and she went with it.

  “Exactly. She wants to turn up instead of the escort he thinks he’s booked, and Voilà ! He’s nabbed. And in a whole load of shit. She’s convinced he’s been doing it for some time. Now she wants the proof.”

  “Can you get me the laptop he uses?”

  “Definitely not, unfortunately.”

  “No problem. It would just have been a bit easier. There’s always more than one way to solve a problem.”

  “There’s another way to help her?” Philippa was playing her part well, though she didn’t like lying to her friend.

  “Sure is. Just need to know the name of the site he frequents, and then create a fake email from them and send it using BLAT or something similar. Or if you don’t know the site, find out where else he shops or what services he uses, then pose as one of them instead. It’s to the same end. When he clicks on the embedded link, the spy software will download itself onto his hard drive and voila! to coin your phrase. You will have access. He won’t know a thing about it.”

  She was shocked, if truth be told. “It’s that simple? Really?”

  Pete laughed at her naivety. “Why do you think all those spam emails you get from god knows who trying to get you to click on links are worth their time? Anyone can create a fake email newsletter or branded email just by cutting and pasting a logo. And with a little know-how for the email address, the average Joe wouldn’t know the real one from the fake one. That’s what they are banking on.”

  “And when the spyware is downloaded, what happens next?”

  “The person who sent it can see a duplicate of their intended’s screen, exactly what they are looking at. Then, when he makes his booking, you can pounce again.”

  “Eh? What with?”

  “You have, or should I say she has, a choice. Either let him book his chosen woman and your friend turns up in her place, or send a cancellation email with ‘our’ apologies and suggest another lady, this time the page of your friend. Obviously, her face will be hidden slightly. That’s a bit more work, and in my view a bit more risky, but both plans have their faults.”

  “What about the other plan? Less risky, do you think?”

  “From what I can see, the only real risk is if the real escort gets there before your friend. That could be interesting!”

  “Can’t we somehow cancel the other woman, give my friend a fighting chance of catching him out?”

  Pete was quiet for a moment while he thought it through. “If the site uses a Messenger app or emails its ladies with the booking details, we could perhaps get into that and change the time slightly, making her, say, fifteen minutes later for example? That way, he’d be having kittens at his wife turning up, she could have it out with him, then the real escort shows. Bang! Fireworks in the hallway.” Pete grinned.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said. “Is this even legal?”

  “Of course not, but anyone can do it. Just ask your favourite search engine how to do anything and it’s all there. And of course, there’s the dark web, but that’s another story.”

  “Sounds like we don’t need the dark web—the regular one has it all! What’s the name of the software that will be downloaded? Is this something I can do instead of you doing it?”

  “Hey! Who said anything about me doing it?” He stopped walking and turned to Philippa. “I’m not doing it, but I’ll tell you how to do it, though I’ll always deny any involvement if asked. I’ve worked too hard to keep clean.”

  Philippa had the good sense to be embarrassed at suggesting he tarnish his good work. “Sorry, Pete, I didn’t think,” she said abashedly. “My bad.”

  Pete let a breath out and calmly said, “I know. Don’t worry. I don’t mind telling you the how, but the doing is all up to you two. Just don’t get caught yourself. People get pissed off at being spied on.”

  “Got it. So what’s the software called?”

  “Met something or other. I’ll just double-check first. There may be a better one since I last used it. I’ll email you details on how to create the fake email, from my personal account, one you can’t trace back, of course.” He turned and smiled at her again. “Got to be careful in all that you do, and I suggest when you’ve done with what you need, you delete all evidence you had anything to do with the scam. Take your laptop to be cleaned maybe. Let your friend be the one to actually do it, not you.” He stopped walking and turned towards her, a serious look on his face. “I’m deadly serious on that part, Philippa. Keep out of it. Just pass the knowledge on. End of story.“

  Philippa was beginning to feel a little serious about it all. Of course, she didn’t want to get her ‘friend’ into trouble, but she hadn’t thought it through enough to think she might have to do it all herself. As realisation dawned, it suddenly seemed too hard. She’d wracked her brains coming up with the most viable solution and this had been the one. But no one had said getting into a killer’s life was going to be easy.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  And so that night after work, Philippa got busy on her computer, but not before giving Georgia a call. There was just one piece of the puzzle that Georgia could help with, even though she didn’t know she was doing so.

  “So, how’s it going with Mr. Handsome? Any gossip on that front?”

  “Sadly, none. I think I’ll just give up. And he’s got a date for the night, some fundraiser, so no doubt they’ll be pictured together in the tabloids tomorrow. We’ll see her then.” She sounded somewhat subdued, almost petulant, and Philippa smiled wistfully into her phone.

  “Poor thing! She won’t be as gorgeous as you, whoever she is,” she replied, trying to cheer her friend up. “What’s the occasion, anyhow?” Philippa could see an opportunity surfacing. She had intended to find out if Sebastian was a member of a racquet club or what his favourite wine shop was, so he would open an email from them—only one that she’d created, a Trojan one.

  “It’s for autism spectrum disorder. There’s a silent auction, which is ironic after the last auction he was involved in landed him in the mire, but his PR company have suggested this little affair will get him back in the good books with the public.”

  “How’s that?”

  “He’s offered himself up as one of the prizes: a night on the town with the great Sebastian Stevens, no less. It will be interesting if it goes to plan. If no one bids, he’s going to be damn grumpy!”

  “Will you be bidding, Georgia, get the ball rolling?”

  “Not on my wage, though I know that there has been some marketing budget set aside to bid to save the embarrassment if no one else is really interested. He’ll never know, and we can all rest a bit easier. That’s the plan, anyway.”

  Philippa couldn’t believe she was hearing it. Could this be a better opportunity than the Trojan email and replacement hooker?

  “What time does it start and where is it?”

  Georgia laughed, “You’re not going to bid, are you?”

  “Of course not. He’s all yours, babe. And anyway, I’m in London remember—I’d never get there on time even if I was in the slightest interested in him. Which I’m not.”

  “Auction starts at nine, at The Lowry, his usual haunt.”

  “Well, I wish him luck,” Philippa said, and moved away from the subject of him so as not to arouse suspicion. “What are the other prizes on offer for the cause. Anything more in my price bracket?” She was just making conversation now, no ulterior motive.

  “The usual. A handful of paintings by local starving artists, some quality guitar time with a famous musician, the man himself and a few minor experience days like ballooning. Hopefully they hit their collection target. It’s a great cause.”

  “Yes,” said Philippa thoughtfully. “I hope so too. I’ve got some research work to do, so I’d better say good night. Let me know how it goes, if your marketing department have to buy their own boss for a date. What a giggle!”

  Georgia giggled back in reply as
they said their goodbyes, then Philippa spread out on the sofa with her legs outstretched and her laptop on her thighs. She laid her head back to work through this new opportunity that had come to light, to think some of the finer points through. Would it work? Was it a better plan or should she stick with the current one?

  After ten minutes of tossing both scenarios around in her head and working through what could possibly go wrong, she decided to empty her thoughts out on paper and make a list. Seeing the pros and cons might make the answer obvious. She took her pad and split the first page into two columns.

  “Let’s start with the original plan first,” she said out loud. As her thoughts came to her, she put them under one of the headings. One by one, the risks and advantages went down until, after nearly ten minutes, she couldn’t think of any more. Then she did the same for the possible new plan.

  Thoughtful, she said, “I bet they’d accept phone bids, I don’t have to be present.” She scribbled her answers down with that in mind.

  “No one would know who I was, what I looked like, nothing.” She chewed the end of her pen. “But the PR company may want to photograph us on our date. That would cause a problem. Then if he died that night… Too obvious.” She chewed the pen again then swung her legs off the sofa in one decisive move. She stood and headed into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and grabbed a packet of cashews. By the time she’d returned, her mind was set.