Nothing but Trouble (6 page)

When Jess got back, he immediately stood up. ‘You ready?’

‘Sure.’

Once they were out on the street, he offered to pay for a cab. ‘I’d give you a lift home, but I’ve no idea where she’s going
or how long it’s going to take.’

Jess stopped and put her hands on her hips, looking indignant. ‘Hey, you can’t just dump me now.’

‘I’m not dumping you. I didn’t think you’d want to—’

‘Of course I do,’ she interrupted. ‘You figure she’s cheating. I figure she isn’t. Let’s see who’s right.’

There was no arguing with Jess when she was in this kind of mood, so he didn’t bother trying. ‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’

They walked up the road until they came to where the car was parked. Jess looked at the battered silver Vauxhall and grinned.
‘I see your taste in motors hasn’t improved.’

‘My other car’s a Porsche,’ he said.

‘In your dreams.’

Harry unlocked the doors and they both climbed in. As Jess pulled her seat belt across she said, ‘So, do you want to know
the name of the other woman?’

‘Pardon?’

‘I found out who she is.’

Harry drew a breath and stared at her through the darkness. ‘You asked that woman her name? Please tell me you’re kidding.’

‘No, I’m being perfectly serious.’

‘Jesus,’ he murmured. ‘You do realise that the whole point of surveillance is
not
to draw attention to yourself?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, smiling. ‘I didn’t mention that I was in the company of a hotshot private detective spying on her
mate. It was just Ladies’ chit-chat, nothing out of the ordinary. She’d have forgotten all about it, and me, by the time she
got back to her table. I pretended that I recognised her, that we’d met before, and suggested that it might have been at the
recent Women in Business conference. She looks the professional type, so I reckoned it was worth a punt.’

It occurred to Harry that Jess had paid a lot more attention to the dark-haired woman than he had. ‘And?’

‘And I was right. Her name’s Vita Howard. She’s a local solicitor.’

Harry’s ears pricked up. ‘A solicitor?’

‘Yeah, interesting, isn’t it? Maybe your client isn’t the only one seeking professional help. Or the only one looking for
a divorce. Could be the wife’s going to get in there first.’

Harry kept his eyes on the door of the restaurant while he thought about it. ‘Could be,’ he agreed. And maybe she’s already
lined up husband number two.’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘She doesn’t strike me as the type who’s likely to be on her own for long.’

‘By that I take it you mean that she looks like the type who prefers someone else to keep her.’

He shrugged. ‘You think I’m being overly judgemental?’

‘It’s a big conclusion to jump to after less than an hour’s observation. It could be that her husband is a bore or a brute
and she’s simply had enough of him.’

Harry thought back to his afternoon meeting with Martin Locke. ‘That’s not beyond the realms of possibility.’

‘So, did I do well getting Vita Howard’s name?’

‘I still think it was risky,’ he said.

‘Yes, Jessica, thank you very much for that useful bit of information. That’s all right, Harry, it was a pleasure.’

He grinned. ‘Thank you very much, Jessica. I appreciate your input.’

It was another five minutes before a smart minicab, a dark green Toyota, pulled up in front of Adriano’s. Shortly afterwards,
the two women came out of the restaurant and got into the back of the car. The driver set off, indicating left after he’d
gone a couple of hundred yards. Harry followed, keeping a safe distance.

The cab made a short journey through the back streets of Kellston until it came to Lemon Road, a row of small but neat terraced
houses. Harry drove past as the cabbie stopped, then slowed down and pulled in a little further along. They watched as Vita
Howard got out, leaned in to say a few final words to Aimee, then gave a wave and closed the door.

‘No steamy girl-on-girl action, then,’ Jess said. ‘I hope you’re not
too
disappointed.’

‘I’ll try and live with it.’

The cab set off again, returning to the high street before heading west. Well, if there was one place Aimee Locke wasn’t going,
it was home. Harry let a couple of cars get between them. He doubted if the cabbie would notice the tail, but he
wasn’t prepared to take any chances. Blowing his cover on the first night of the job wouldn’t be too impressive.

The Friday-night traffic grew denser as they approached the West End, the roads clogged up with black cabs and slow-moving
buses. By now it was getting on for ten o’clock.

‘Perhaps she
is
going to work,’ he murmured, talking as much to himself as he was to Jess.

‘Where’s that, then?’

Harry hesitated, but then decided that there wasn’t any real harm in telling her. If he was right, she’d find out soon enough
anyway. ‘Selene’s,’ he said.

‘In Mayfair?’

He gave a nod. ‘You know it?’

‘I know who owns it.’

He thought back to that article he’d read in the magazine. ‘Some aristocrat, isn’t it? Lord someone or another?’

‘James Harley-Cunningham. Yes, he’s the front man, but he’s got a partner behind the scenes – an old friend of yours, as it
happens.’

Harry gave her a sidelong glance and frowned. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like this?’

‘Because you’re not.’

He waited a few seconds but she didn’t say any more. ‘Come on, Vaughan. Don’t keep me in suspense.’

She took a quick breath. ‘It’s Ray Stagg.’

‘Shit, you’re kidding?’

‘I said you wouldn’t like it.’

Harry didn’t. Ray Stagg was an East End villain. Not a gangster exactly, but a lowlife all the same. He was involved in drugs,
prostitution, loan-sharking and any other dodgy deal he could dip his grubby fingers into. ‘How the hell did he get involved
with a place like Selene’s?’

‘Because he knows where the money is, and it’s not in a sleazy
lap-dancing joint in Shoreditch. He sold his old club to some Russian geezer and then teamed up with one of England’s blue-bloods.
Stagg has the money and Harley-Cunningham has the connections. It’s a marriage made in heaven.’

Harry slapped the palms of his hands against the wheel. Stagg was one of those Teflon criminals who through either good luck
or good management – perhaps a combination of the two – had always managed to evade the law. He’d been arrested on more than
one occasion, but no charges had ever stuck. It had been a few years since their paths had last crossed, and Harry wasn’t
in a hurry to renew the acquaintance. ‘That bastard should be in jail.’

‘Maybe he’s seen the error of his ways and decided to go straight,’ Jess said drily.

‘That’ll be the day. He’s just found a more lucrative outlet for all the lousy gear he peddles.’

Mayfair was busy, the streets humming with activity. Harry concentrated on his driving as they went down Park Lane, skirting
the shadowy tree-filled expanse of Hyde Park. Selene’s, which was just around the corner from the Dorchester, had a long queue
outside. The taxi drew up beside the door and Aimee Locke got out. She stopped briefly to have a word with one of the doormen
and then went into the club.

Jess undid her seat belt. ‘I guess this is goodbye, then.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Well, I’m presuming you’ll want to follow her inside.’ She pointed towards her jeans. ‘They’ll never let me in dressed like
this, so I’d better leave you to it. It’s not a problem. I can easily get a black cab.’

Harry nodded towards the Toyota, which still hadn’t moved off. ‘You don’t need to. Unless the driver’s picking up someone
else, I think she may be coming back.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Jess said, settling back in her seat. ‘So what is it
that this woman does? What’s her name, by the way? I can’t keep calling her
this woman.’

‘She’s a croupier,’ he said. ‘She works in the casino.’

‘And?’

‘And?’ he echoed.

‘Come on, Harry. You know I won’t blab to anyone. Cross my heart and hope to die. At least tell me her Christian name.’

Harry pulled a face, unsure as to whether he should or not.

‘Ah, come on,’ Jess said again, her voice more wheedling now. ‘If it wasn’t for me, you still wouldn’t have a clue as to who
she had dinner with tonight.’

‘No, but it wouldn’t have taken me long to find out. I have her address, remember? I only had to check the electoral register
to find out the rest.’

‘So I saved you the bother.’

‘What does it matter what her name is?’

Jess gave a light shrug. ‘I don’t know. I’m just curious.’ She glanced at him, her grey eyes widening. ‘You do trust me, don’t
you?’

‘Don’t pull that one on me, Vaughan.’

‘You’re getting very cynical in your old age.’

‘Just being discreet.’

‘And you think I can’t do discretion?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

They watched as the long queue outside Selene’s shifted slowly forward. Unlike the VIP guests, who turned up in limos and
waltzed straight in, the lesser mortals had to endure the chill evening air. Harry couldn’t recall the last time he’d been
in a nightclub. It must have been years ago.

‘So?’ Jess said. ‘Are you going to tell me her name or not?’

Harry, knowing from past experience that Jess wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted, finally decided that it would be
less of a hassle to give in gracefully. ‘It goes no further, right?’

‘Naturally.’

‘Okay, her name’s Aimee, Aimee Locke.’

‘There,’ Jess said triumphantly, ‘that wasn’t too difficult, was it?’

He heaved out a sigh. ‘Just make sure that—’

Jess lifted a hand and made a fleeting flat-palmed gesture across her mouth. ‘My lips are zipped, hun. Your secret’s safe
with me.’

‘Good.’

It was fifteen minutes before Aimee reappeared. She didn’t look any happier than she had in the restaurant, but even an unhappy
Aimee Locke, Harry noted, still made heads turn. It was more than just beauty; she was one of those women who had an aura
about them, a charisma that went beyond the physical.

‘So, she isn’t working,’ he said. ‘I wonder what was so important that she had to come all the way over here.’

‘To pick up her wages, perhaps?’

Harry, remembering Martin Locke’s address, his expensive clothes and the flashy gold watch he’d been wearing, shook his head.
‘I can’t believe she’s that desperate for cash. And anyway, don’t most people’s wages go straight into their bank account
these days?’

‘I guess. And she doesn’t exactly look destitute. Maybe she needed to speak to someone.’

That was what Harry was worried about, especially if that person was Ray Stagg. There was no particular reason why it should
be – the club must employ lots of people – but he had one of those uneasy feelings in his guts. Somehow, whenever there was
trouble Stagg was never too far from the centre of it. ‘That’s what phones are for.’

‘She might have left something at work, something she needs.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said, although he wondered what could be so urgent that it couldn’t wait until her next shift.

Aimee got back into the taxi and they set off again. It didn’t take long to realise that they were heading back in the same
direction that they’d come.

‘Ever had that déjà vu feeling?’ Jess asked as they approached the outskirts of Kellston.

‘Looks like she’s going home.’ He wondered what Aimee was going to tell her husband. Her shift, he presumed, wouldn’t normally
finish until the early hours, and so she’d need a good reason for being back at this time.

The cab veered south and wound its way into the more exclusive part of the district. The streets were brightly lit, illuminating
the fancy houses beyond the high security gates. Jess peered out of the window. ‘God, not much evidence of a credit crunch
here. Your client must be rolling in it. If I’d known, I’d have ordered the lobster.’

‘I’m sure that would have gone down well on the expenses claim.’

The cab indicated right, turned into Walpole Close and drew up outside number 6. Harry drove past and pulled in further up
the road. He watched in the rear-view mirror as Aimee Locke got out, walked up to the tall wrought-iron gates and punched
in a code on the security pad. A second later the gates swung smoothly open. The driver waited until they’d closed again before
taking off. Harry didn’t move until the cab was out of sight, then he did a U-turn and cruised slowly back.

The house was a large white two-storey ranch-style construction with a steep roof, shuttered windows and a covered veranda
running the length of the building. In front of the house the path split into two, with the left half winding around to the
back. The floodlit front garden, awash with pink and white rhododendron blossoms, was empty. There was no sign of Aimee; she’d
already disappeared inside.

‘Very nice,’ Jess said. ‘Do you reckon there’s a pool?’

‘Why? Are you thinking of moving in?’

Jess flicked back her hair and smiled. ‘Well, if your client’s after a divorce, he could be looking for a replacement soon.
I’m not proud. If it means getting my bank balance out of the red, I’d be more than happy to fill the vacancy.’

Harry laughed. ‘So much for independent women. Drop your CV off at the office and I’ll be sure to pass it on to him.’

‘I may just do that.’

Harry didn’t hang about outside the house. There were cameras fixed to the pillars either side of the gates, and so after
a quick look he took off and accelerated down the street. ‘Right, let’s get you home.’

‘Aren’t you going to wait to see if she goes out again?’

‘No, I reckon that’s it for tonight. She’s been drinking so she can’t drive herself, and she’s just let the cab go.’

Jess leaned her head against the back of the seat and yawned. ‘So I was right after all. She isn’t playing away.’

‘Hey, just because she didn’t do anything tonight doesn’t mean she’s Little Miss Innocent. It’s early days yet.’