Dead Gorgeous (A Mystery for D.I. Costello) (2 page)

Standing by the window of his office, Nigel Summers put the receiver down after Ian’s call. It rang again and he turned away from the window, giving himself a mental shake. A framed photograph of him with his mother at a gala dinner stood by the phone and he smiled at it. “Good morning, Mother; I’ll call you later,” he said to the picture. He picked up the phone once more and gave his customary salutation: “Nigel Summers.”

In a cluttered room at the back of the unit. Darren Carpenter walked along racks of garments methodically checking the items against his inventory and pushing everything back to make more room. Very soon now a small army of leggy females, all part of the magazine shoot, would descend on this place. Although, in theory, only the room next door had been hired models, make-up artists and dressers always overspilled into his section as the day wore on. He could neither see nor hear Kirsty’s car from here, but he knew she had arrived nonetheless. She’d go past his bike in the rack, of course. He thought proudly about the new white mudguards and reflector tape he’d stuck onto them. He left it on the end stand especially so that she would see it. Darren and Kirsty were an item, a situation about which he wished he didn’t feel so insecure.

He heard his mobile phone ring from the desk in the corner and went across to answer it. He recognized the voice of Kirsty’s flatmate. “Hi, Sandra, thought I might see you here today.”

“Oh, really, why?”

“We’ve got a shoot on. From the look of the girls, I reckon you’re the same type.”

Sandra let out a wail that was half-anguish and half-anger. “My agent never mentioned anything, but I bet Kirsty could have given me the details so I could have tried out for it. I bet you. The cow!”

Darren let a moment pass without saying anything. The uneasy relationship between Kirsty and Sandra bewildered him. “I know what you’re going to tell me,” he said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I seen her, didn’t I? She was with him.”

A brief pause ensued. It briefly crossed Sandra’s mind to wonder about this “sighting” but she didn’t want to go down that route. All she could do was to add a rider. “She came in around midnight and left at the usual time this morning.”

Darren’s jaw hardened and the pulse in his temple throbbed. “So much for the girls’ night in with you, then,” he said.

“Is that what she told you she would be doing?”

“Yeah.”

Sandra could see at once that Kirsty hadn’t even bothered to think up a plausible lie, but she didn’t say so to Darren. She didn’t want to upset him too much. Sandra had her own hopes for Darren, and getting him to look upon her as something other than a listening ear into which he could pour his woes about Kirsty was proving to be a delicate business.

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you Daz,” she said.

“Thanks, Sandy, you’re a star. I’d better go; talk to you later.” He put the phone down and stared into space. He clenched his fists and flexed his muscles, making the huge biceps bulge at the tops of his arms. If things went on like this, he knew he would soon be teaching her a lesson. Kirsty was his girl. She had to get that through her head.

Kirsty sat at the desk opposite Jenni’s and got started on
her day’s duties. She looked at the pile of filing she’d been given with dismay. Office work hadn’t been part of her career plan, but almost the first thing she’d learned in this industry is that you didn’t spend your time dashing from one exciting modelling job to another. In fact, some weeks you considered yourself fortunate to even get sent to a casting. Still, she had an ace up her sleeve. Things had gone well with Ian the previous evening; a top designer like him must surely be able to use his influence to get her jobs. She had high hopes for her future.

Raj Wickramasinghe, the pattern cutter, breezed into the room. “Morning each,” he said. “Hope we all had a good weekend.”

Kirsty smiled uncertainly at the newcomer. Raj seemed impervious to her looks and charms so she didn’t really know how to relate to him. Jenni did, however. She took in the rolling-eye signal he threw at her with an infinitesimal nod. “Kirsty,” she asked, “would you mind popping down to the café and getting me a latte, please? You know how I like it.”

“Ooh, be a doll and get one for me please, Kirsty,” added Raj.

“Sure,” responded Kirsty, jumping up from her seat, glad for an excuse to put off the filing for a bit longer.

Left alone, Raj smiled and raised an eyebrow at Jenni.

“Come on, out with it,” teased Jenni. “I know that look on your face, you’ve got some
goss
.”

Raj grinned and came over to her desk. He leaned forward, speaking in an unnecessarily low voice. “Our lot, the family, went out for a drink last night.”

“Oh, really, still trying to persuade you to marry and produce grandchildren?”

Raj clicked his tongue. “Ha! Yes my mum is anyway – in her dreams! Still, she means well, bless her heart.”

Jenni gave a guffaw of laughter. “I don’t see it somehow,” she said.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” said Raj. “Anyway, we went to this nice little pub in Hampton Hill.”

“Oh yes?” Jenni knew that Raj liked his listeners to pick up on the nuances of his gossip, so she added, “Quite a way out.”

“Yes indeed, but however far you go, you can never count on being safe from prying eyes, can you?” Jenni shook her head, smiling in expectation. “Well, who should I see?” Raj leaned in closer to her. “
She
was there,” he said, pointing his thumb in the direction of the door through which Kirsty had just disappeared, “with Ian.”

“That’s hardly juicy gossip, Raj. Have you made me send Kirsty out for a coffee I don’t really want just for that?”

“No, no, no, listen. We all know about Ian and Kirsty.”

“And her plans to get her feet under his table,” said Jenni.

“Yeah, silly tart; like
that’s
ever going to happen.” replied Raj. “No, the thing is, Darren was there as well, hiding in a corner. He was watching them.”

“Oh wow!” Jenni shivered. “Are you sure it was him?”

“It was him all right.”

“I must admit I’ve always found him a bit intense, but that’s more like borderline stalking.”

“Creepy,” agreed Raj.

The door opened and Eleanor came into the room. Raj straightened up and Jenni spoke. “So your mum hasn’t given up hope, then?”

“No, but I’ve learned to live with it. Morning, Ellie.”

“Morning, Raj,” replied Eleanor. “I left some swatches down here.” Just at that moment, Ian walked past in the corridor. Eleanor quickly grabbed the swatches and hurried to take the opportunity to walk along with him. “I’ll catch you later at coffee,” she said to Jenni, as she headed through the door.

When Ian and Eleanor reached Ian’s office, he had to cut across her to enter. Suddenly he paused in the doorway. “Ellie,”
he said quizzically, his nose twitching. “You’re doing perfume today; that smells nice.”

Eleanor could hardly believe what she was hearing at first.
Keep it cool, Eleanor,
she said to herself.
He’s got a good nose, remember, that’s all it might be.
“Yup,” she said. “I don’t normally, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

“Hmm,” he smiled and, Eleanor could have sworn, nearly winked. “Well, it’s very sexy; I approve.”

Sexy; he said sexy. He did, didn’t he? Yes he did.
Eleanor went slowly back up to the stitching room. Well, this was a turn-up. What was
that
about?

Kirsty’s mobile phone vibrated in her pocket as she made her way back to the office laden with coffees. She’d received a text from Darren.
U on 4 lunch?
She stifled a sigh as she balanced the cardboard tray of coffees in one hand and texted back with the other.
Yeh, c u @ 1
. She had been getting weary of him even before she started seeing Ian. She found Darren intense and possessive. She felt certain he’d been lingering outside the house where she shared a flat with Sandra, more than once. He hadn’t been loitering outside last week, though. She’d come back from the gym to find him in the living room talking to Sandra while he waited for her. Kirsty paused in her thinking. She’d better watch that. She had a suspicion Sandra liked Darren and she wouldn’t stand for that. Darren was her boyfriend and she hadn’t finished with him yet, Ian or no Ian.

Still, it would all stop when she and Ian could finally take their relationship to the next level. Kirsty gave a smile. Oh yes, that would raise eyebrows. Kirsty Manners would be somebody then.

A Sunday afternoon, one month later

Detective Inspector Angela Costello and her husband, Patrick, slotted a desk neatly under the window in the second largest bedroom of their house, and stood back in the doorway to survey the results of a morning’s hard work.

The room, until early that day, had had the appearance of the dumping ground it had become for the past couple of years. It now looked fresh, inviting and cosy. They could finally see the bed, they had cleared the floor of boxes and bags, the windows sparkled, and the stale, dusty smell had disappeared. Later, they would welcome Patrick’s daughter back to the house in which she had grown up, and until as late as yesterday Angela had feared they might have to park Madeleine in the cramped quarters of the smallest bedroom unless they managed to get their act together.

“Looks just as it did when she was ten,” remarked Patrick contentedly. “All that’s missing is a ballet poster and her teddy bear.”

Angela laughed, her gaze travelling over the walls, the duvet cover and the lampshade, all in a similar shade of pink. “Very girly,” she nodded.

“Interesting psychological insight there,” said Patrick. “As a teenager Madeleine was a rebellious Goth, really into black– hair, clothes, make-up – very grim. But she didn’t once try to change the decor in here.”

“She remained pink at heart. I hope she stays for a while, so I can get to know her.”

Patrick picked up on the nervousness in Angela’s voice and pulled her to him. “It’s going to be just fine, darling. You two will get on like a house on fire.”

Angela felt grateful that with her face buried in Patrick’s shoulder he couldn’t see the sudden tears springing into her eyes. She’d become increasingly apprehensive as the big day of Madeleine’s arrival approached, and surprised at how vulnerable she felt. Something of the depth of her feelings must have communicated itself to Patrick, though, because he sat on the bed and drew her down beside him. “OK, enough of the hearty platitudes; I’ve been jollying you along for a while now, but it’s got through even to my dull wits that it hasn’t worked.” He fixed her with a penetrating stare. “Tell me.”

Angela picked at the duvet cover. “I’m just being very silly.”

He grinned. “Quite probably, but tell me anyway.”

“Well, I know that Maddie and I have got on fine every time we’ve met, but we haven’t ever lived under the same roof and this is the house she grew up in. I can’t rid myself of the feeling that once she’s here she’s going to resent me… resent me…”

“Yeah?”

“You know.”

“Say it, sweetheart.”

Angel took a breath. “Taking her mum’s place.” The words came out in a rush. “There, I’ve said it. I know you’ll think I’m stupid and you might be right but, anyway, that’s what’s been worrying me. This was her home first, you loved her first and –”

There was a pause.

“Come on, you might as well get it all out.”

Angela shrugged diffidently. “You loved Louise first.”

Patrick gave a gentle laugh and hugged Angela tight. “You soppy old thing,” he said. “Actually, I didn’t love Louise first. I’d been in love at least twice before I met her.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t marry those others.”

“True.” He thought for a moment. “OK, Angie, here’s the deal. I loved Louise, very deeply. When she died I thought the world had ended. I cried, I raged, I got seriously drunk and I shook my fist at God. And you know what?”

“What?”

“The crying made me hoarse, the raging exhausted me, the drink caused me to throw up, and I discovered that God doesn’t get uptight when you shake your fist at him.”

“What’s your point?”

“I did grieve for Louise, for a long time. But that was sixteen years ago. I’ve moved on and so has Maddie.” Angela looked doubtfully at Patrick. “Honestly, when we were courting and I told her of our plans to marry, she was thrilled to bits.”

“You’re joking?”

Angela’s face presented such a picture of puzzlement that he laughed out loud. Finally he said. “Don’t you realize, you set her free?”

“What!”

“Yes, you numpty, she was quite concerned about her poor old dad.”

“Old?”

“She was only seventeen when we met, remember. She could see me getting old, doddery and more and more lonely. She felt responsible. In spite of her Goth phase, the teenage moods, the tantrums about staying out late and all that, you know, she’s a good kid at heart. She worried about leaving me to go off and live her own life. And then you came along.”

“Oh.” Angela felt her spirits lift. “I hadn’t thought about it like that; a bit like a knight-ess in shining armour.”

“Exactly.”

Angela was silent for some moments. “Thanks, Paddy.”

“Are you still nervous?”

“Yes, but in a different way now.”

“What am I married to?”

“You’re married to a numpty,” she said, embracing him.

Kirsty Manners smiled with satisfaction as she looked at her computer screen. What she had produced looked businesslike. It would create just the impression she wanted. She glanced at her mobile phone. The text she’d just sent was still visible.
Go on, ring,
she thought. She wanted to see her plan working.

It rang. Ian’s face appeared on the screen.

Kirsty snatched up the phone. “Ian?” Her voice sounded tremulous, near to tears.

“Kirsty, this is outside of working hours. You know what we agreed.”

Kirsty made a quick assessment of the depth of irritation in his voice and decided there was only a low-level risk of annoying him further. “Yes, I know, Ian,” she said, with a realistically weepy sniff, “but I’m having a particularly hard time today. You know how it is. Some days are worse than others.”

“Yes, I do, but I had no choice. I have to be free – I told you that – otherwise I can’t work, I can’t create. Anyway, it’s only a trial separation so that we can assess what we both want.”

Kirsty homed in on, to her, the most salient point. “You’re hardly free now you’re having a thing with Ellie.”

“That’s different; Ellie’s an older woman and… It’s just different.”

“It’s OK, Ian. I know why you’re going out with Ellie.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“Pur-leese; you’re trying to make me jealous, that’s all. You think I haven’t done that myself? It’s all right. I understand. You want to be calling the shots when we get back together.”

“You seem very certain we’ll get back together.”

“Ian, we’re good together; you know we are.”

“What about Darren? Aren’t you still stringing him along?”

“I finished with him just before you broke up with me, remember? I wanted you to be sure you’re the only one for me. He’s going out with my flatmate now.” A smirk stretched itself across Kirsty’s face as she thought about that. Darren had been to the flat a few times with Sandra – all very civilized and polite. They had behaved like grown-ups. But Kirsty hadn’t failed to notice Darren’s eyes constantly straying in her direction. She knew she would only have to click her fingers and he’d come running.

“Oh I see, well…” said Ian, clearly at a loss.

Kirsty, wondering if she’d sounded a little overconfident, thought a tearful note would restore the balance. “Anyway, you’ve spoilt me for other men. It’s just you I want. I really miss you, Ian,” she sniffed. “I can’t bear the thought of you and Ellie together.”

“Hmm, perhaps it’s as well we’re having this little talk. Kirsty, you’re being very naughty, you know.”

“But Ian, I really can’t bear it. We’re meant for each other. I know we are.”

“The fact remains that Eleanor and I have a relationship and you really mustn’t goad her about it. It doesn’t make you look good, Kirsty.”

A malicious grin danced around Kirsty’s lips as she listened to him. She had let slip no opportunity to make snide comments in Eleanor’s hearing, whether about her age or that she wouldn’t be able to hold on to Ian. She took pride in her ability to get under the other woman’s skin.

“OK, Ian,” she replied meekly. “You’re right. I’ll behave better in future,” she lied.

“Good girl.”

“It was great just talking to you, Ian.”

“It wasn’t bad, was it? And who knows what the future holds?”

“Yes, I’ll be waiting when you’re ready, Ian.” Kirsty finished the call and threw the phone onto her bed. It had gone well. She’d broken the office hours only rule and managed to engage him in conversation. And she could tell he wasn’t honestly outraged at the way she behaved in front of Eleanor. She gazed with satisfaction at some photographs stuck around her dressing table mirror. Few women could match her looks, which hadn’t ever let her down in the past. Oh yes, she’d get him back again, no doubt about that. Kirsty had never had any trouble getting the man she wanted. Ian offered a bit more of a challenge, that was all.
And once we’re back together again,
she thought,
I’ll make sure he cuts out that “good girl” rubbish.

Just as she turned back to her computer, the front door bell made her jump. She hastily saved the file she’d been working on and closed the computer, aware that one couldn’t be too careful. Then she went down to answer the summons.

Eleanor Chandler hurried into her kitchen and sat down at the breakfast bar breathing heavily and feeling the heat of her flushed cheeks, a complete contrast from her cool composure when she left the house earlier. She deeply regretted having set out in the first place. After a few moments she felt steadier, and she got up and took the kettle to the sink. A hot drink right now would restore her completely to herself.

As the water ran into the kettle, her mind wandered back over the past year and a half.

She wouldn’t ever have believed her life could change so radically. Eighteen months ago she’d been a dowdy woman dominated by an overbearing and autocratic mother. The only place she’d shone had been at work. She knew her stuff there. For that one thing she felt grateful to the late Mrs Chandler; her mother had taught her to sew from a very young age. Eleanor turned slightly and cast her eyes upwards in the direction of
the old woman’s bedroom. For more years than she cared to remember, she’d fetched and carried for the cantankerous invalid. Eleanor shuddered at the memory of the humiliations she’d taken, the sniping comments, the put-downs.

She’d known she had finally cast off the maternal shadow when she and Ian first made love. Could it really have only been three weeks ago? It had happened in the very bed from which her mother had refused to rise for the last ten years of her life.

Just at that moment the front door bell rang and a smile lit up Eleanor’s face. She wasn’t expecting anybody, and only one person ever visited her spontaneously. She put the kettle down and hurried along the passage, her heart pumping now for a completely different reason.

She threw the door open and smiled into Ian’s face. “Hi, Ian. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Ian returned her smile; the arm held behind his back now came round to reveal the bottle of champagne in his hand. “Neither did I; I’ve still got an appointment this evening, but my afternoon became free when my golfing buddy cancelled at the last minute, so I thought, is this an opportunity or is this an opportunity?”

Eleanor beamed delightedly but still hesitated on the doorstep, unsure of herself. In spite of her many years in and around the fashion industry, she had little experience with men. And she’d wanted this one for so long she felt uncertain how to handle the situation now she’d got him. She liked to think of herself as a quick learner, though, and as Ian stepped across the threshold she found a riposte she thought worthy of the occasion.

“Did you bring any oysters to go with that champagne?” she asked, injecting a suggestive note into the question.

Ian smiled as he shut the door behind him and glanced up the stairs before fixing his eyes on her face. “I don’t think we need any oysters, do we?”

She gave a small laugh, knowing she sounded like a sophisticated woman now, not a gawky schoolgirl any more. “You’re right! However, we do need glasses. You go up and get to work on the cork. There are some champagne flutes in the dining room but I’ll have to dig them out.”

Ian bent his tall frame over her and kissed her gently on the lips. “Don’t be long,” he said.

She felt the warm flush of anticipation rising up through the whole of her body. “I’ll be right there,” she replied. She knew just where to find her champagne flutes, having recently transferred the box of glasses from the old sideboard to her new wall unit, along with a pile of other things. A cousin had given her the champagne glasses in a rush of uncharacteristic generosity one Christmas, and she had never taken them out of their wrapping. Eleanor’s mother had considered both the giver and the gift frivolous – ridiculous. She found the package and pulled it open, setting out four of the flutes behind the glass-fronted shelf higher up and hastening upstairs back to her lover with the other two.

Sandra Hodges fed another coin into the pinball machine in the Tone-Up Gym’s coffee bar, and pulled on the handle to start the game. Her heart wasn’t really in it. Much as she liked sports and keeping fit, even she felt a little surprised at Darren’s capacity to work out. If she’d wanted any confirmation that she really loved him, hanging about here a good hour after finishing her session, just because he was on the premises, would have provided it. Disconsolately, she left the game and ambled over to a table near a small bar where a muscular man with close-cropped hair stood spooning coffee into a percolator. He looked up and winked at her as she sat down. Darren and Sandra had been coming to his gym for a couple of years, long before they were an item. He’d got to know them very well, and
on occasions even trusted one or the other of them to guard the reception for him if he had to be elsewhere. He had a pretty good idea what was on Sandra’s mind.

“Want a cup, Sandra? On the house.”

“That’s nice of you, Tone. Yes please.”

The eponymous Tone, owner and manager of Tone-Up, brought the drink over to her table, straddling the chair next to her and turning a sympathetic gaze on her face. Not for the first time he wished Sandra didn’t regard him as merely a good friend. He sighed and put the thought out of his mind. “It’ll come good, Sandy,” he said, after a few moments.