Nothing but Trouble (34 page)

Swann grinned. ‘Not leching, guv,
examining.
She could have
been carrying a concealed weapon. I was just covering your back.’

‘Concealed?’ Valerie said. ‘She couldn’t have concealed a bee’s kneecap in that dress.’ She looked back down at the rotas
and sighed. ‘I suppose we’d better talk to this Micky Higgs. And there are a few others it could be worth having a chat with
too.’

Swann gave her a sideways glance. ‘You thought any more about what Harry said?’

Valerie bristled. Partly this was down to a deep-seated insecurity about being compared to Harry Lind in a professional capacity,
but mainly it was because she was still annoyed by the presence of Jessica Vaughan in his flat. ‘Harry?’

‘About a possible connection to Minnie Bright.’

‘Do
you
see a connection?’ she asked, a little more sharply than she’d intended.

Swann considered the question before giving his answer. ‘Well, from where I’m sitting it still looks like a straightforward
domestic, but …’

‘But?’

He shrugged and heaved out a breath. ‘It could be that we’re missing something.’

Valerie turned her face away and gazed out of the side window. They were words she hadn’t wanted to hear. She was still convinced
that Livesey was their man – why else would he have run? – but his reasons for killing Becky Hibbert might have their roots
more in the past than the present. She couldn’t dismiss the possibility that there was more to this murder than they’d originally
thought.

Jess had driven straight back from Bethnal Green. Now she was sitting at the table in Harry’s flat, her fingers flying over
the keys of the laptop as she typed up her interview with Ralph Masterson. She wanted to get it all down while it was still
fresh in her mind. He had provided some excellent background information, revealing to her a man who was perhaps more pathetic
than demonic, and yet she was still no closer to knowing whether Donald Peck had been innocent or guilty.

As she worked, her gaze frequently darted out of the window and on to the street beneath. Since the fire, she’d been constantly
alert, on the lookout for strangers hanging around or for anyone who might be acting suspiciously. She’d had one near-death
experience and didn’t relish the prospect of another. Suspicious strangers, however, were pretty much the norm in London,
and she knew that if she wasn’t careful, she’d develop a seething paranoia about every guy who had a shifty expression, who
walked a little slower than he should or who stopped to light a cigarette.

The factual part of her summary flowed quickly and easily,
but she hesitated when she came to the more subjective side. What did she actually feel? What did her instincts tell her?
Well, for one thing she was sure that Ralph Masterson was hiding something – but then that was nothing new. The whole Minnie
Bright case was underpinned by secrets. And for another, she hadn’t imagined Masterson’s anger. His words echoed in her ears:
What kind of ten-year-old doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong?
Now there was a man with an axe to grind. He’d also been evasive about Stella Towney.

Jess stopped typing, picked up her mug and drank the dregs of her coffee. It was cold but she barely noticed. Outside, the
grey clouds had parted and a few thin rays of sunshine were slipping through. She got up from the chair and stretched her
arms up over her head. What she needed was a walk, some exercise to get the blood pumping to her brain again.

She put on her jacket, grabbed her bag and headed for the door. As she passed the first-floor landing, she could see the open
door to Mackenzie, Lind and considered going in to get Harry’s take on what Masterson had told her. She stood for a moment,
her hand on the curve of the banister, but then decided to leave it. Her news could wait until tonight.

Despite the sun, the air still had a chill to it. A cool breeze flapped at the thin fabric of her white shirt and made her
shiver. She zipped up her jacket and bent her head as she walked to the end of Station Road and turned right on to the high
street. What she had in mind was an afternoon of therapeutic shopping. If she was going to the casino with Harry tonight,
she’d need a pair of killer heels to go with the little black dress that was hanging in the wardrobe. She could do with some
jewellery too. Nothing fancy, just a few accessories to finish off the outfit.

She spent the next hour flitting from shop to shop, trying to balance her desire against her limited budget. She couldn’t
afford to go mad; her choices had to be sensible ones. When she
found the shoes, however, all thoughts of economy went straight out of the window. The black stilettos with the tiny cream
bows on the front were irresistible. She tried them on and they fitted perfectly. She glanced at the price, ninety-five pounds,
and winced. Still, she decided, it would be pointless to buy a cheaper pair that she might never wear again. At least she
would get some use out of these. And every girl, even those who spent most of their lives in jeans and trainers, needed to
be prepared for those occasional visits to the casino.

Having spent more than she’d intended, Jess put herself in budget mode as she entered Ruby’s. The jewellery store had plenty
to tempt her, and she spent the next twenty minutes browsing the display cabinets. A gold chain? A silver one? Eventually
she settled on a simple string of pearls with matching pearl earrings. They were fake, but would easily pass for real, especially
in a dim light.

With her shopping finished, Jess stood on the pavement and wondered what to do next. She didn’t want to go back to the flat
just yet. She felt too restless, her mind running once more through all the thorny complications of the Minnie Bright case.
She was waiting for things to drop into place, for the fog to clear and the truth to be revealed. She had the feeling she
could be waiting for a very long time.

Looking across the street, she saw the supermarket and had an idea. Perhaps Clare Towney was working there today. It was about
time, she thought, that she put a face to the name. She had no intention of talking to her – she had promised Harry that they’d
see her together – but a sneaky glimpse was hardly breaking her word.

Jess crossed over, jaywalking through the slow-moving traffic. Inside the shop, she picked up a basket and joined the throng.
This high-street store was one of the smaller supermarket outlets, but it was still busy. As she wandered along the aisles,
gathering a few random items – apples, bread, pasta, toothpaste – she glanced surreptitiously at the name badges of all the
girls of a certain age who were stocking the shelves. By the time she’d completed three circuits, it was clear that Clare
wasn’t around. Disappointed, she headed for the checkout, where two middle-aged women and a young, lanky bloke were manning
the tills.

Jess had moved up to third place in the queue when her mobile started ringing. She put her basket on the ground, pulled the
phone out of her pocket and checked the caller. It was an unidentified number.

‘Hello?’

‘Jessica?’

‘Yes,’ she said, pressing the phone closer to her ear and trying to identify the voice. It was male, but it sounded muffled,
as if it was coming from a very long way away. Not Neil, though, and not Harry either.

‘How are you?’

‘I’m good,’ she said, playing along while she tried to figure out who it was. An old colleague? Someone she’d been talking
to recently? ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you very clearly. It’s a really bad line.’

There was a rustling from the other end. Then silence.

‘Hello?’ Jess said. The queue shifted and she shuffled forward, using her right foot to move the basket. ‘Hello?’

‘Not much shopping,’ the voice said. ‘What’s the matter, babe, lost your appetite?’

She felt a jolt run through her. ‘What?’

‘Nice shoes, by the way. Black. That’s always a good choice.’

Jess whirled around, panic rising in her throat. Her gaze quickly raked the aisles for a man using a phone. She couldn’t see
one. ‘Who is this? What do you want?’

There was a low, sinister laugh. ‘I want you to mind your
own fuckin’ business, love. Do you think you can manage that?’

She could feel a cold sweat forming on her forehead. A sliver of ice slid down her spine. The man was here, close by, the
man who had set fire to her flat and tried to kill her. Her first instinct was to run, but then her gaze darted to the wide
glass windows. Maybe he was outside rather than in. Maybe he was waiting for her out on the street. Her fingers tightened
around the phone. She said nothing. She couldn’t. Her throat had closed up and her lips were dry as parchment.

After a few seconds the voice came again, soft and menacing. ‘Be careful when you close your eyes at night, Jessica. You never
know who’ll be there when you open them again.’

And then the line went dead.

For a moment she stood rooted to the spot. Her breath was coming in short, fast pants, her heart racing. And then the adrenalin
kicked in. She couldn’t stay where she was. Abandoning the basket, she rushed out of the store and into the street. She looked
left and right, scanning faces and examining the cars parked along the kerb. Where the hell was he? Still watching her, or
already gone? Well, she wasn’t going to hang around to find out.

As she fled back towards Station Road, glancing constantly over her shoulder, another grim thought entered her head. What
if he was waiting for her there? The front door would be open. He could walk straight in. She paused on the corner, racked
by indecision. But where else could she go? Then her brain kicked into gear. No, he couldn’t get in without Lorna hearing
him. It was impossible. The buzzer sounded as soon as the door was opened.

Jess set off again, jogging the last few yards to the entrance to Mackenzie, Lind. The carrier bag with the new shoes bounced
hard against her thigh. She hesitated when she reached the door, fear scratching at her nerves. Then she swallowed hard and
quickly pushed it open. She gazed up the staircase. It was empty. She listened, but couldn’t hear anything. She took a deep
breath, went inside, closed the door firmly behind her and ran up the stairs.

Lorna was sitting at her desk, hunched over a pile of paperwork. She lifted her head as Jess came into the office, and smiled.

‘Hi, how are you?’

Jess’s heart was still thumping in her chest. ‘Good, thanks. Is Harry here?’

‘Sorry, love. He’s out for the afternoon. You can get him on the phone, though.’

Jess was tempted to blurt it all out, to tell Lorna what had happened, but she bit her tongue. She’d inflicted enough of her
problems on the woman already. ‘Oh, okay. I’ll do that.’ She turned to go, then stopped. Before she went up to the next floor,
she had to ask the question. ‘Er … no one’s come in here, have they? I mean in the last five minutes or so.’

‘No. Were you expecting someone?’

Jess shook her head, relieved. ‘Not exactly. I just thought … it doesn’t matter.’

‘Well, only Mac, but you didn’t mean him, did you?’

‘Mac?’ Jess repeated unsteadily. It came out as more of a croak than a query.

‘Yes, he just nipped out for a sandwich.’ Lorna frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Do I?’ Jess said, feebly attempting a laugh while her thoughts began to spin. So Mac had been out at the same time as the
call had been made. How long had he been gone? It was hardly a question she could ask. And surely it couldn’t have been him.
Why would he be threatening her? Except the voice had been so muffled, she couldn’t swear that it
hadn’t
been
his.

Lorna gazed up at her, a quizzical expression on her face.

Jess backed away. ‘Sorry, my head’s all over the place at the moment. I’d better go. I’ll see you later.’

She dashed up the stairs, unlocked the door to Harry’s flat and then locked it behind her. For a while she stood very still,
leaning back against the wood. Her legs felt shaky and her stomach was churning. Not Mac, it couldn’t be Mac. He might not
like her – he’d made that pretty clear – but what reason could he have for warning her off? Except he was an ex-cop, and ex-cops
had cop friends they might still be loyal to. If there had been some kind of a cover-up on the Minnie Bright case …

Jess waited until her legs had steadied before pushing off the door, dropping the carrier bag and her handbag on the table
and going over to the window. She stood to one side, hidden by the curtain, and peered out, looking down the road towards
the station and the Fox. Was paranoia starting to eat away at her reason? If Mac had only nipped out for a sandwich, he wouldn’t
have had time to see her buy the shoes. It must have been at least an hour after that that she went on to the supermarket.
Jesus, she had to stop jumping to crazy conclusions. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start suspecting anyone and everyone. And
that, she knew, was the road to madness.

At six thirty, Harry took a shower, had a shave and then got dressed. He put on his grey Armani suit with a crisp white shirt
and a red tie, ran a comb through his damp hair and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He frowned. Perhaps he didn’t need
the tie. He took it off and opened the top button of his shirt. Then he wondered if the casino had a dress code. Deciding
that it was probably better to be safe than sorry, he refastened the button and put the tie back on again.

On the off chance that Aimee Locke wasn’t going to work tonight, Warren James would stay in Walpole Close and follow her if
and when she left. That way they could be sure of not losing her. Harry could go straight to the West End, find somewhere
to park and – so long as she was going to Selene’s – be there by the time Aimee arrived.

Not counting the Friday, it was three days since the surveillance had started, and to date there was not a shred of evidence
that Aimee Locke was playing away. In fact she rarely left the house. Apart from her dinner with Vita Howard, she had gone
out only once, and that was to do some window-shopping on
the high street. There had been the visit from the crimper, of course, but Harry tended towards the opinion that if she
was
having an affair, she was unlikely to invite her lover to Kellston. Less risky, surely, to take the car and meet him somewhere
away from the prying eyes of neighbours.