Lipstick and Lies (47 page)

‘Oh for heaven’s sake Morag
.
’
I snatched the wig from her.
‘We’re meant to be looking for Ste
vie, not playing dressing up.’

‘Au contraire
.
’
Morag suddenly looked
grim
.
‘If we’re going snooping
,
we need to
be
suitably disguised.
I don’t think for one moment Selina will turn up
.
B
ut she must have neighbours.
If we bump into anybody, I want to be sure we look very different.
So b
oth of u
s are wearing wigs and specs.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Deadly.
Hurry up and choose one.’

I picked up the shoulder-length brunette wig and put it on my head.
A few adjustments and it looked surprisingly passable.
Picking up the
geeky
spectacles, I slotted the arms behind my ears.
Good heavens.
I didn’t recognise myself.
Morag put on a dark heavily fringed number
.
She
instantly morphed into Jessie J.
Seconds later she’d
teamed it with sunglasses and a
trench coat
.

‘Don’t you think the sunnies and
mac
are a bit obvious?’ I asked.
‘You look like I
nspector Clouseau’s sidekick.’

‘Nonsense
,
’
said
Morag
.
She belted the coat and
stuffed her mobile in one pocket
.
‘
I
f anybody asks what we’re up to, we
tell them
we
’re from the Council.
Let’s go.’

With Morag behind the wheel, the drive to Blackheath didn’t take long.
As the
Galaxy swung between the gateposts to Selina’s apartment, I found myself pulling my coat collar up and putting my chin down.
I hoped to God we were both right in
assuming
Selina would remain at work
.
The last thing we needed was her pulling another sickie
and
turning up here.

‘Okay,’ said Morag.
‘
L
et’s investigate.’
She
grabbed
an official looking clipboard from the backseat.
It had been swiped from
Matt’s office at the yard.
The clipboard
actually
held various horses’ diet sheets
.
‘Now remember
.
I
f anybody ask
s
, we’re inv
estigating a noise complaint.’

We
slid
out
of
the car
.
F
or a moment
we
stood
uncertainly
on the forecourt.
Morag
peered
at me
over her sunglasses
, and then
jerk
ed
her head at the building.
I nodded and swivelled my eyes to the front door.
Morag signalled her understanding.
Suddenly joined at the hip, we
shuffled
as one to the
entrance
.
My heart was starting to speed up
.
I
t wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
The wig was making my head feel uncomfortably hot.
Seconds later my face had broken
out in a fine
sheen.
The
specs slid down my nose.
I pushed them
back
up with one finger
and looked at the door in front of us.
It was a
mix of
wood and glass.
It was possible to see inside the hallway.
We peered in.
The
foyer
was high-ceilinged and
stylish
.
T
he floor
was
marble.
An elegant wrought iron staircase swept upwards.
Nobody
was about
.

And then a shadow fell across the
doorway
.

‘Can I help
you?’ asked a voice behind us.

Morag and I
let out ear-splitting screams
.
If the residents hadn’t been aware of our presence
before
, they
certainly
were now.
We
spun round and came face to face
with a tall silver-haired pensioner
.
He wasn’t
unlike Victor Meldrew.
Hell
, t
his was all we needed.
A nosy neighbour.
M
orag was the first to recover.

‘
I’m so s
orry
.
Y
ou rather startled us.
We’re from the Council
and in
vestigating a noise complaint.
We were asked to pay a visit by Miss Selina
–’ Mo
rag
hugged
the clipboard to her chest
whilst pretending
to consult it.’

‘Selina Hadley?’

‘The very one.’

‘
That’s strange.
Miss Hadley is
rarely here these days
.
A
lthough,’ he frowned in concentration, ‘I did see her recently.
With a gentleman.
But they didn’t stay long
.
She’ll be at work right now.
I have her mobile number.
Do you want me to call her
for you
?’

‘
No!’ we trilled together.

‘Thank you,’ Morag
said,
‘but t
hat won’t be necessary.
However, it would
be helpful
if we could go inside and listen for a bit before
making
an official report.
’

‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem.
And your name?’

‘My name?’ asked Morag.

‘Yes,’ said Victor
.
‘It’s just
for the purposes of Neighbourhood Watch.
I’m the co-ordinator for this building.
There are only three tenants here
.
But
I always ask visitors for their name
if a
resident isn’t at home.’

‘Of course,’ Morag said briskly.
H
er eyes darted to the clipboard
.
‘I’m Mrs
Dobbin.
And my colleague he
re is–’

‘Marple
.
’
I straightened up.
‘Miss.
’

Victor nodded
.
‘Thank you.’
He
produced a notebook
and pen
from the inside pocket of his jacket.
He wrote the names in carefully.
‘So that’s Mrs...Dobbin and
...Miss...Marple.’
He snapped the notebook shut.
A second later it had disappeared
back inside the
jacket
.
Fishing in
another
pocket, he produced a key and unlocked the entrance door.
‘After you ladies.’

We stepped
over the threshold and
strolled
over
to the centre of the hallway
.
Victor
made his way
to the only door on the ground floor.
Clearly
this was
his apartment.
However, he didn’t go in
side
.
Instead he hovered.

‘Thank you very much for your help,’ Morag said dismissively.
Victor inclined his head graciously.
And stayed put.
Bugger.
Morag peered at her clipboard before addressing me.
‘It says here,’ she stabbed a finger at Dobbin’s
feed
proportions, ‘that prolonged industrial sawing
is
o
ccurring within the premises.’

I peered dutifully at the clipboard
.
Dobbin was to have two scoops of bran, one of pony nuts and absolutely no oats whatsoever.
‘How utterly inconsiderate,’ I said to Morag.
We appeared to be talking very loudly.
And woodenly.
As if on a stage.
Victor would have no trouble catching what we were saying.
‘I suggest we stand
very still
and listen
.’
M
y voice
bounced off the walls of the hollow
hallway.

‘I q
uite agree,’ Morag enunciated.

‘I agree too.’

‘Good.
So we are both in agreement.’

‘
We are indeed,’ I articulated.

There was a pause while we stood, still as statues, and listened for prolonged
industrial
sawing.
You could have heard a pin drop.
I contemplated the floor.
Rocked back and forward
s
on my heels
for good measure
.

‘I think I just heard something,’ Morag cried
.
She
cupped one ear.

‘
I think I did too
,’ I shouted.

‘And
it seemed to be
coming
from upstairs,’ Morag yelled.

Victor moved away from his apartment door.
He
walked
carefully
towards us
, hands folded behind his back
.

‘Mr Dawson lives upstairs,’ he said quietly.
‘He’s a retired school teacher.
He doesn’t own a screwdriver
,
never mind
an industrial saw.’

‘Nonetheless,’ Morag waggled a finger
authoritatively
, ‘we are duty bound to investigate.
I insist Miss Marple and
I
check out the first floor.’

Victor looked at us without saying anything.
Eventually he gestured toward the staircase.
‘Please
, d
o go up.’

‘Thank you
,’ said Morag.
‘
Our investigation won’t be complete until we have also examined the top floor
.
Would you like us to let you know when we are finished?’
Morag stared unblinkingly at Victor.
Her unspoken message was clear.
Leave us alone.

Victor again regarded us silently.
The seconds began to stretch toward
s
a minute.
I could feel my nerves starting to frazzle.
Just when they were at screaming point, he cleared his throat.
‘I will be in my apartment
.
’
Victor
indicated the door behind him.
‘You know where to find me.’

‘Indeed.
We won’t be long.
Come with me please
Miss Marple
.
’

As Morag took to the staircase,
I scampered along behind
her
.
I risked a quick backward glance at Victor.
He was in the process of opening his apartment door.
Thank heavens
for that
.
The man was an absolute nightmare.
A professional busybody.
We reached the first floor landing
.
And walked
smartly past the door to Mr Dawson’s flat
.
The second flight of stairs was straight ahead
.
Fortunately t
he staircases and landings were carpeted
.
As we wound our way to the top floor, our
footsteps were silent
and stealthy.
Suddenly
we were standing outside the door to Selina’s apartment.
I was feeling inexplicably edgy.
A part of me was terrified the door would fly open
.
T
hat
Selina would swoop down on us like an avenging angel
,
her head rotating three hundred and sixty degrees.
But the door remained shut.
All was quiet apart from the thud-diddy-thud of my heart
,
and slightly ragged breathing from climbing two stairca
ses.