Dead Gorgeous (A Mystery for D.I. Costello) (16 page)

“You’re being niggled at; I can tell,” said Patrick as he laid the table that evening. Angela had managed to get home in time to do the cooking and she now came into the dining room with the sugar bowl in her hand.

“What?” she asked, putting the bowl on the table.

“Well, for a start,” replied Patrick, picking it up again immediately. “Do you intend for us to sprinkle this on our steaks?”

Angela blinked. “Oh. I’m just not with it.” She took the bowl and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a tray bearing two steak and salad meals and the salt and pepper pots.

“By George, she’s got it,” said Patrick, sitting down. “It looks lovely but the state you’re in, I’m a bit hesitant about taking the first bite.”

Angela put down the fork she had just picked up, and looked questioningly at Patrick. “Did you say something, darling?”

He grinned. “Yes.”

Angela sat up straighter, picked up her fork again and started on her meal. “I’m sorry, Paddy. It’s just that something is niggling at me.”

“No! Really?” he said in mock disbelief. “What is it?”

“Well, I interviewed a woman today and it’s been on my mind ever since.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. When you were in the police, did you ever find yourself being led in interviews?”

“Rather than doing the leading, you mean? I had plenty of suspects who would lead the interview if I gave them the
chance, and tell me only what they wanted me to hear, but that comes with the territory. It could even be useful to – er – get an angle on where he or she didn’t want me to go. You can learn quite a bit that way.”

“That’s exactly it! I’ve had that before in an interview and I play it by ear, depending on the circumstances. But I was puzzled by this woman today.”

“Can you put your finger on what it was?”

“No. If I could answer that, I don’t think I’d feel so niggled at. It’s not as if this woman is a suspect. She’s only got a marginal connection to the case – from the looks of things.”

“But you’re left with this impression.”

“Yes, there was some tension in her that didn’t sit with the whole interview.”

“If she’s got something to hide, she should have made more of an effort to relax. She’s a blob on your radar now, isn’t she?”

“Yes, of course she is. That’s it; I’ll do a bit of digging tomorrow. More than likely I’ll find I can cross her off my list.” Angela’s face cleared and she laughed. “Right, sorted, I can enjoy my dinner now.”

“That’s a relief; I was beginning to wonder what I might end up with for dessert.” They heard the front door open as Madeleine came home. “In the dining room!” Patrick called out.

“Evening, peeps,” she said, appearing in the doorway.

“Hi, Mads,” replied Angela. “Your steak’s in the oven. I’ve only just served so there’s no need to reheat.”

“Thanks, Angie,” said Madeleine. She joined them after a few moments with her plate in her hands, and sat down at the table. “Look what I’ve done,” she said, holding out her arm. There was a long tear in the sleeve of her blouse. “I’m really cross about it. I put it on for an interview this afternoon, but I particularly wanted to wear it tonight. I think I ripped it on a door handle. Fortunately I’d already had the interview.”

“How did it go?” asked Patrick.

“I felt it went pretty well, but you know what it’s like; got to play the waiting game now.”

“Indeed. Shame about the blouse, though, it’s a very smart one,” he said.

“Yes, elegant is the word I would use. I hope I can get it invisibly mended,” replied Madeleine.

“What are you doing tonight?” asked Angela

“Gary and I are going out for a drink.”

“What, my Gary?”

Madeleine laughed. “He’s not yours, but I know what you mean. Yeah, that’s the one.”

“He’s kept that very quiet! Not that I asked him what his plans were for this evening.”

“I think he tries to keep home issues out of the workplace.”

“Very wise,” said Patrick.

“Bit of a bummer about your blouse, though,” said Angela. “I tell you what – I’ve got a similar one. You can borrow that if you want.”

“Oh yes, I know the one you mean. If anything it’s a slightly better quality than this. Thanks, Angie. I’ll just get it out ready,” she said, heading for the passageway.

“There, that’s sorted,” said Patrick with a smile. “Angie… Angie… darling?”

Angela jumped. “What! Sorry, Paddy.”

“Oh, no…”

“Sorry, Pads. It’s not the same thing, though. Something Maddie’s just said put an idea into my head.”

“An idea about what?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know ’cause it flew straight out again.”

“It’ll come back when it’s ready. Make a little note in your notebook and forget about it. I don’t want you niggled all evening.” He raised an eyebrow. “Nibbled maybe.”

Angela smiled and winked at him as Madeleine came back into the room.

“OK, folks, what have we got?” asked Angela the following morning as she stood in front of the team.

“We’ve got a bit more on this woman in a dark suit, but not much, Angie,” said Jim.

“Spill the beans.”

“Well, we went to this other neighbour, a bit further up on the other side of the road. She saw the woman outside the victim’s house and gave virtually the same description as Ronald Sanders.”

“What did this neighbour say?”

“She says the woman went up to the front door and rang the bell. She presumes the woman went into the house but didn’t actually see her do so.”

Angela thought for a moment about the account from Ronald Sanders and this new information. “Oh, it’s a blooming nuisance, this! We’ve got two people seen at the house, they quite likely gained access, but nobody saw either of them leave. Did this other neighbour give the same time frame as Sanders?”

“Yeah,” said Jim. “About twenty to two, she said.”

“Hmm, that tallies; and the person on the bike is later – much closer to three – the time of the murder.”

“They could still be connected though, couldn’t they?” said Derek.

“Absolutely; well, keep digging everybody,” said Angela. “Rick and Jim, take Tony Chambers’s statement to the gym and get him to sign it. I know it wouldn’t normally be your job, but I want you to push a bit about Sunday afternoon. I don’t think he’s a man with an easy conscience and you might come up with something.” She turned to Derek. “Did a fax come in from Massingham’s yesterday after I’d left?”

“Got it here,” he replied. “The page we took from Kirsty’s computer is with it.”

“Ah great, thanks, Derek.” Angela took the two sheets of A4 paper. Superficially they looked very similar but a second glance showed that the font wasn’t quite the same. And of course, Kirsty had added her name to the one on her own computer. Leanne, passing by at that moment, stopped and looked.

“No prizes for spotting how many differences there are between them,” said Angela.

Leanne laughed.

“The interesting thing is how close Kirsty’s version is to the real thing. She’d obviously had either possession of, or a very good look at, the real letterheaded notepaper at some point.”

“It’s not exactly top secret, though, is it, guv?”

“No, that’s true, but we haven’t come across any other connection between Kirsty and Massingham’s. She might have applied to them for work once, Dorothea Massingham said she wasn’t on their books as such, but her photograph might be on their system.”

“That’s another box that needs a tick, then.”

“Yep,” said Angela and moved towards the door. On her way back to her office she ambled past where Gary was sitting. “Enjoy your date last night, Gaz?”

He looked up at her and gave a sheepish grin. “I didn’t say anything because –”

Angela waved away his words. “Gary, you don’t have to consult me about your social life. Did it go OK?”

Gary relaxed. “Yeah, it was good. We only had a drink and walked along by the river, but – what?”

Angela was frowning. “Sorry, Gaz. It’s just that talking about last night has reminded me of something that was said at dinner. It struck me at the time, but I can’t think why – and the memory is still eluding me.”

“Oh, it drives me crazy when that happens! Never mind. If you don’t think about it, it’ll probably come back to you.”

“For sure. In any case, something needs looking into that was nibbling away at me last night too.”

“Nibbling?”

“Niggling; I mean niggling.”

Angela smiled at him and continued on her way leaving Gary looking after her, rather puzzled. She didn’t turn back; she knew she was blushing and didn’t want him to see it.

She sat staring at her console for a long while. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander back over the interview the previous afternoon. At this stage she didn’t want to look through Gary’s notebook. She had good recall and within a couple of moments she could visualize Dorothea Massingham seated opposite her in the room downstairs. It was a whole package with that lady. She presented exquisitely to give a particular image – elegant, intelligent, sophisticated; then why the jarring note? Angela felt certain that something in the whole scene didn’t sit right. She saw herself asking Mrs Massingham if her husband, Jeremy, would have known Kirsty, and suddenly she knew what she was looking for. “Not a chance, Inspector,” Mrs Massingham said. She’d said it so quickly – too quickly. Angela had the definite sense she’d been headed off at the pass: “We’re not going down that road” was the message.

That led Angela on to wondering why Mrs Massingham had been so firm in asserting it was more convenient for her to come to the station rather than have the police visit her in her home. Generally speaking, people coming to police premises was feasible enough. Already, Ronald Sanders, Kirsty’s neighbour, and Tony Chambers of the gym had turned up to volunteer information. But why should it be more convenient than a home visit?

By now Angela definitely smelled a rat. Was Mrs Massingham trying to keep a distance between the police
and her husband? Given Kirsty’s track record it could be that Jeremy Massingham knew her not only socially or professionally but in the biblical sense, which could explain Dorothea’s reluctance to speak of her.

Leanne was just putting the phone down when Angela appeared by her desk.

“How are you getting on?” she asked.

Leanne beamed up at her. “I managed to find out one thing. The official photographer at the
Passionista
party was a chap called Leon… er…” Leanne flicked back a page or two in her notebook. “Leon Rushton. He’s got his own studio and website and it looks like he does a lot of fashion photography.”

“Promising; will you set me up with a meeting?”

Tony Chambers was just being called away to help someone with their session when Rick and Jim arrived at the Tone-Up Gym. They assured him they were happy to wait, and each accepted a cup of coffee.

They took advantage of the opportunity to familiarize themselves with the layout as they’d heard it described at the briefings. They sat where Sandra had sat when she remarked on Darren’s bicycle, and inspected the lean-to and realized how easy it would have been for someone to go into it, take Darren’s bike, leave the front door on the latch, and replace it through the same door, all without being seen from the reception.

“It would have taken a bit of nerve,” opined Rick, sitting down with his coffee, “but I think our bloke’s got that, hasn’t he?”

“I reckon so,” agreed Jim, strolling around the little reception area, peering at posters and looking at the noticeboard. “He cycled up to Kirsty’s gate in broad daylight and left the bike in the front garden while he did the deed.”

“Allegedly,” cautioned Rick.

“Yeah, OK.” Jim joined his colleague at the table. “The thing that’s always struck me is the risk he took. The bike could have been stolen while he was inside with Kirsty. I mean, it’s a valuable bike.”

“Probably wasn’t too bothered.”

“He was bothered enough to take it back to the gym. That must have been part of the plan.”

“True; we don’t know that he didn’t put a lock on it, though.”

“Maybe; in any case, he had to take a bit of a risk at some point. If we’re assuming the cyclist is the guilty one then it looks like he wanted to put Darren in the frame.”

“Could still turn out to be Darren.”

“OK, but if it was Darren he wouldn’t come on his own bike, would he? That would be stupid. I mean, the neighbours in Kirsty’s street didn’t strike me as being that much concerned with each other, but the ones that take any notice were used to seeing Darren’s bike there.”

“Yeah, so someone else used his bike to point the finger at him.”

“I reckon so; unless of course, it’s a double-bluff.”

“Could be, but if it wasn’t him it’s got to be someone who knew where he stored his bike at the gym, and how easy it could be to get at it if you just knew the system.”

“So we’re looking for someone who knew the system here.”

They both looked up as Sandra Hodges entered through the front door, just as Tony returned from one of the inner rooms.

“Hello,” began Sandra, her brow creasing into a frown. “Weren’t you with the police at my flat last Sunday?”

“That’s us,” confirmed Rick, standing up and flicking open his police ID. “I’m Detective Sergeant Rick Driver and this is D.S. Jim Wainwright.”

Jim nodded. “Is this where you work?” he asked Sandra. Even as he said it, he remembered Angela reporting that she
and Gary had interviewed Sandra Hodges at some solicitor’s place in Putney.

“No, I’m not working today. I had a casting this morning. For a modelling job,” she added as she noticed a puzzled look on Jim’s face. “I’ve just come here to hang out.” Her eyes flicked across at Tony behind Rick and Jim and a small smile appeared fleetingly on her face.

“They want to ask some more questions about Kirsty,” said Tony.

Sandra’s expression changed to one of peevishness. “OK, I’ll go and do some weights or something,” she said, her voice tight.

“Actually, it would be helpful if you stay,” said Rick. “We would have tried to see you as well later.”

Sandra couldn’t hide her sense of satisfaction. Fully mollified, she sat down. “Sure,” she said, with an attempt at nonchalance.

Rick and Jim took out their notebooks.

“We’re trying to fill out our picture of Kirsty a bit more,” began Rick. “You know, her likes and dislikes, what sort of person she was.”

“For instance,” Jim went on, “we’ve heard about how she had plans to ‘be somebody’. Do you know if this was just a pipe dream or did she have something specific in mind?”

“D’you know…” began Sandra, then stopped and thought for a moment before starting again. “OK, if you’d asked me that question when she moved in with me, I’d have said she relied on her looks and just hoped to sleep her way to a fortune, if you know what I mean?”

Both the detectives nodded. “And now?” asked Jim.

“She’d started to wake up, I’d say. She was already going out with Daz when she moved in, but there were a couple of blokes in the background – Kirsty was that kind of woman.
She seemed to need the reassurance of knowing that she could pull, right?”

“I get you,” said Jim.

“She was quite open about her love life at first, but as time went on she got more cagey. The other men disappeared off the scene, I think.”

“But she still didn’t limit herself to Darren?”

“Oh, no way! That was when I got the impression she’d started dating some kind of high-flyer.”

“What made you think that?”

“Partly because she wasn’t so open, I suppose. But she was obviously going out somewhere and I didn’t think it was with Daz.”

“She always went for blokes with money,” said Tony.

“Yes, Tone’s right,” agreed Sandra. “Once she started with this new bloke, though – the one I’m saying is a high-flyer – she seemed to begin to realize it isn’t just about money. You know, like, in the top echelons of society, you can be poor and still be one of them. She started to see you needed something money can’t buy.”

“Class,” supplied Tony.

“That’s it,” agreed Sandra. “I don’t think she was ever going to cut the mustard, but she wouldn’t have accepted that. I think, going out with this
whoever-he-was
gave her ideas. The other blokes seemed to float off into the ether and Darren, as far as I could tell, became the man on the back-burner. I never said as much to him because I didn’t want to upset him, but I think he had a pretty good idea.”

“So,” said Rick. “You think she was using this new man to climb up the social ladder.”

“I think so. Because she’d twigged that for some men she’d need more than good looks.”

“How did you make that out?” asked Jim.

“I noticed that she was – well, not exactly nervous but anxious to please. No, not that; anxious to get something right; that was it.”

“Well, that’s normal when you’re dating someone, isn’t it?” asked Jim.

“This is Kirsty we’re talking about,” Sandra reminded him. “She never had to try too hard; blokes flocked to her like bees round a honeypot.”

“Can you give us an example of this trying ‘to get something right’?” asked Rick.

“Well, for instance, she got all dressed up to the nines one night – let me see, this would have been a couple of months ago. She came into the kitchen to ask me if I thought her outfit was right for a posh restaurant. In fact she looked a bit tarty, and I told her so; I mean, that’s what friends are for. I said if it was a really classy restaurant she’d do better to look a bit more… erm… demure.”

“Demure?”

“Yes. I don’t think she entirely got the point, but she changed into something else; and, to be honest, she looked a lot nicer. Anyway, I’d already gone to bed when she came home, so I didn’t ask her how it went until we both got in from work the evening after. She surprised me by saying she’d realized I was right. The clothes she’d changed into were a lot more suitable and… how did she put it? Oh yeah. ‘The outfit was commented on favourably.’ That was it.”

“Anything else?” asked Jim.

“Actually,” said Tony, “I noticed her attempts to change her image as well.”

The policemen’s eyes turned towards him. “In what way?” asked Rick.

“Well, she wasn’t an out-and-out Cockney. She spoke what they call Estuary English; but I noticed she tried to alter her
accent a bit here and there, and she definitely began making an effort not to drop her ‘H’s. She used to join me sometimes in my little cubbyhole back there for a crafty fag. She didn’t want Darren to know she smoked, because she didn’t want him going on at her about it. Darren’s into health in a big way.”

“So what did you talk about on these occasions?” asked Jim.

“That’s where she surprised me most of all. At first she chatted on about other people who came here, and keeping fit, but then it changed. She started asking me about the business side of running a gym. Once she grasped that if the gym is registered as a company – which it is – then I have to be on the books at Companies House as much as a big conglomerate or a bank, well, then it was all about that. She wanted to know every detail about how you got registered and what’s involved– all that sort of thing.”

“Did she say why she was interested?”

“I asked her that. I said, ‘What? Are you thinking of going into business, then?’”

“And what did she say to that?”

“She didn’t really give me an answer. She just said you never know what might happen, and she just wanted to find out how it all works.”

“And that was it?” asked Jim. “Nothing more along those lines?”

“No; she came back to the subject a few times but it was only to go over the same ground, make sure she’d understood it right.”

“OK,” said Rick, consulting his notes. “And we’ve heard somewhere along the line that she might have been frightened of Darren.”

The spontaneous reactions of both Tony and Sandra gave lie to this. Their mouths dropped open and they started forward in their seats.

“What?” exclaimed Sandra, disbelief etched into every line of her face.

“It’s just something that someone put forward,” replied Rick.

“No way!” asserted Sandra. “She could twist Darren round her little finger.”

“He’s a powerfully built bloke, though.” Jim was determined to pursue it to the bitter end. He and Rick hadn’t actually met Darren, and were working solely from Angela and Gary’s description, but Sandra and Tony didn’t know that. “I would think twice about getting on the wrong side of him,” he continued.

Tony shook his head with a smile. “Daz is a gentle giant,” he said. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly. And he was absolutely besotted with Kir –” He broke off and smiled a little sheepishly at Sandra.

“It’s all right,” said Sandra returning his smile. She came round to stand behind him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter any more.”

Tony half-turned to look up at her, and grasped her hand. They remained in that position and looked at the two policemen. “That’s right, it doesn’t matter any more,” said Tony.

“In any case,” continued Sandra. “Darren was here all Sunday afternoon, but you lot already know that.”

“Don’t forget what I said about when I was having my ciggie break, Sandra,” said Tony.

“Oh yeah, of course.” She turned to Rick and Jim. “I’d be very surprised if it was Darren,” she said. “But, like… I assume he was here all the afternoon because he normally is. That’s his routine.”

“But you weren’t watching him the whole time.”

“Well, no. Obviously he went to the loo now and again, and got himself a drink. But that would have been all. And Tony’s right, he’s obsessed with Kirsty. I thought we were getting it
together, but I can see now that I was fooling myself. It just wasn’t going to happen. Not with her around.”

Jim raised his eyebrows as he noted this. Looking at him, Sandra realized how it might sound.

“I mean,” she said, a hurried, nervous tone in her voice, “I was already beginning to realize that, and accept it. I was OK with it; not a problem.”

Rick caught Tony flashing Sandra a look which he interpreted as, “Don’t protest too much.” Quickly glancing at Sandra he managed to catch a glimpse of an answering nod.

She took a breath. “It’s like Tony said,” she continued in a level voice. “Daz is a gentle giant, really. He’s probably a borderline stalker but he wouldn’t harm her.”

The two policemen nodded, closing their notebooks to indicate they’d had all the answers they needed for the moment. They thanked the pair for their time. As they left the premises, Rick glanced back and saw Sandra sitting down very close to Tony. The way she leaned in to him and his arm snaked around her neck left no room for doubt about their relationship.

“That was a bit useful,” said Jim as they reached their car.

“Too right,” agreed, Rick. “I wonder how they’ll take it if we come back and ask Tony where Sandra was or Sandra where Tony was.”

“That’s it,” said Jim. “You can include Darren and say any one of them could have disappeared for fifteen minutes or so, and none of the others would have been any the wiser.”

Ian had learned caution. He parked as close to his front door as he could, and checked the street before getting out of the car. He continued to look all around as he crossed the pavement, making sure he had the key ready in his hand to slip straight into the lock. Once inside his flat, the chain went on and he breathed a sigh of relief. A few days had passed since the
attack but he wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. He went over to the window overlooking the street in front of the building His stomach knotted itself into a tight ball. Yes, there was someone out there. He couldn’t see the person standing near the lamp post, but their elongated shadow was thrown along the pavement. This made the second night he’d been aware of the presence outside.

After mixing himself a salad and putting a ready-meal into the microwave, he checked again. He saw a tall shape wheel a bicycle from behind a nearby tree and ride off.

He cycled home, aware of the frustration building up inside him. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He was going to have to do something soon or he’d burst. But he realized now the man’s own area wasn’t the right place. He needed somewhere familiar, a place he could act with confidence. It was a big job he was planning; he had to be in control throughout.