Double Dealing (Detective Sergeant Catherine Bishop Series Book Two) (19 page)

  ‘I remember her. Bit of a dreamer,’ Dan put in as he rejoined them.

  ‘Spent more time in the loo than out here working,’ Josie sniffed. ‘Think the job centre told her they’d stop her money if she didn’t turn up. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Sarah was nodding. ‘She was lazy, but nice enough.’

  ‘Did she make any friends here? Did you see her talking to anyone in particular?’ Catherine asked. Headshakes all round.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ Billy wanted to know.

  ‘I’m afraid Keeley’s been found dead.’ Catherine was blunt, wanting to see their reactions. There was a short silence.

  ‘The poor lass,’ Sarah said after a few seconds.

  ‘Drugs, was it?’ Josie asked.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ Catherine hoped she sounded casual.

  ‘Just a feeling. She always seemed jumpy, she couldn’t seem to concentrate, and she was always moaning about having no money. I don’t know, it was just the impression I got.’

  ‘She was on drugs.’ Billy was firm. ‘She was spaced-out most of the time, you can see it a mile off.’

  ‘I bumped into her in town once and she was off her face then too,’ Dan offered.

  ‘Did she talk about drugs at all? What she was taking, where she got it from?’ Catherine knew it was a long shot, but she had to ask. Billy laughed.

  ‘She lives on the Meadowflower, there’s a drug dealer in every other house up there. I should know, I live there too. Hate the place, but what can you do? Can’t afford anywhere else in town.’

  ‘What about money?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Keeley? She never seemed to have any, but then who does?’ Dan gave a short laugh.

  ‘She was really skint though,’ Sarah said. ‘She told me her mum helped her out with food and clothes for her kids.’

  ‘None of us are rolling in it, that’s for sure.’ Billy took a gulp of hot chocolate.

  ‘Well, some have more than others,’ Josie sniffed. ‘Our resident blue-eyed boy for one.’

The others nodded. ‘Money’s never been a worry for Alex, with his cars and holidays and designer clothes. Talk about born with a silver spoon,’ Sarah commented.

  ‘What do you think of Alex Lambert?’ Catherine wanted to be sure. There were a few low groans and noises of disgust.

  ‘He’s a twat,’ spat Billy. ‘Looks at us who work through here like he’s found us on the bottom of his shoe.’

  ‘Thinks he’s a cut above us lot. Thinks we all fancy him too,’ Sarah agreed. ‘As if.’

Catherine drained more hot chocolate. ‘What about John Worthy?’

  ‘What about him?’ Billy butted in again.

  ‘Is he a good employer?’

Dan cleared his throat. ‘I’d say he’s fair,’ he said. ‘He cares about his staff, which is more than you can say for most bosses.’

The others nodded. Billy glanced around. ‘He likes to give people a chance, I’ll say that for him. A few of us have been in trouble, some have been in prison.’

  ‘Including you?’

Billy smiled for the first time. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t already checked.’

Catherine said nothing, finished her drink, thanked them for their time, and went through to the printing room. The two men who were working in there eyed her with suspicion, throwing quick glances in her direction and then turning back to their work. She moved closer, careful not to get in their way as they moved around the machinery. Rob Hunter was also there, watching the men as they worked.

  ‘Learning the ropes,’ he said with a shy smile. ‘I had a few hours in packing, now I’m through here.’

  ‘Can the three of you spare me a few minutes?’ Catherine asked.

The nearest man pulled off his baseball cap and ran a hand over his balding head. ‘I thought we’d been through it all yesterday.’

  ‘We’ve got an order to get out by lunchtime,’ his mate complained.

  ‘I won’t keep you long.’ They left their task and came to stand around her in a semi-circle, clearly not happy about it. ‘Thank you. Does the name Keeley Pearce mean anything to you?’

For a second or two, no one spoke. Catherine felt the already icy temperature fall another few degrees. When Phil Richards spoke, his voice was controlled.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘She’s dead. We want to know why.’ Catherine kept her eyes on his face but his expression didn’t change.

  ‘She wasn’t welcome here,’ the other man, Sid Benson, spoke up.

  ‘Not welcome?’

  ‘The first day she came to work, things started go missing,’ Benson elaborated. ‘As soon as she left, the thefts stopped. Seems a coincidence, wouldn’t you say, Sergeant?’

  ‘Thefts? What sort of thefts?’

  ‘Cigarettes, money. Most of us have worked at Worthy’s for years and we trust each other. When Keeley was here we had to start using the lockers again.’ Benson shook his head as if disgusted.

  ‘Sid’s right. Keeley was a sneak thief and we didn’t like it. She didn’t stay long,’ Richards confirmed.

The two men exchanged a grin. Rob Hunter was frowning.

  ‘You’re certain it was her?’ he asked.

  ‘Who else? Listen to me, none of us would steal, not from the people we work with.’ Richards snapped. ‘We’re all struggling to get by as it is.’

Hunter held up his hands.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’

Richards glared at him, but Benson smiled. ‘Forget it. You’re new here, but you’ll learn. We look after each other. Understand that and you’ll fit in fine. Keeley didn’t. Can we get back to work now?’ he asked. When Catherine nodded, the two older men went back over to the machine. Rob eyed her, his face wary.

  ‘Glad you’re here?’ Catherine grinned. He gave her a rueful smile.

  ‘Better than being inside. They like to sound tough but they’re decent blokes. I didn’t bring any food on my first day and they shared their sandwiches with me.’

  ‘No one’s put your head through the window yet then?’

  ‘Not quite.’

  ‘Anything else you want to tell me?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He was uncomfortable, unable to stand still. ‘Will you tell Anna I’m sorry I phoned her? I’ve already apologised for turning up at her house . . .’

  ‘I’m not a message service, Mr Hunter.’

He blushed.

  ‘No, I . . . I’m sorry.’

She nudged him. ‘I’m joking. I’ll mention it.’

  ‘Oh. Oh right. Thank you,’ he stammered. Rolling her eyes, Catherine left him to it.

  Back in the reception area, she plonked herself down on the sofa to wait for Anna and Chris. Margaret on reception turned her back on Catherine, who had to smile. She had a reply to her text
:
Are you free at lunchtime?

 
When the door had closed behind them, he counted to a hundred just to be sure they weren’t coming back, then snatched up his mobile and scrolled through his messages. Finding the one from her, he deleted it and then wiped her contact details too. His heart was pounding as he turned his laptop back on and opened up his banking software. Just seeing the figures there calmed him, the black type bold and unmistakable. He reached out, ran his finger down the column, then tapped it twice on the numbers that showed the final balance, satisfied.

  She was dead now. She couldn’t say a word.

36

Catherine sat with Chris at his desk, both of them frowning at his monitor.

  ‘So three of the staff at Worthy’s have done time in prison. Rob Hunter, Phil Richards and Josie Hayward. Hunter we know about already. Hayward – shoplifting and handling stolen goods. Phil Richards was done for burglary. So much for him telling me he wouldn’t steal. They’ve all done one stretch each and that was years ago, except for Hunter,’ Catherine confirmed. Chris gave a low whistle.

  ‘You could look at Worthy employing them in different ways.’

  ‘Generous, stupid, suspicious.’

  ‘It’s quite a lot out of a workforce of what,’ he ran his finger down the list as he totted them up, ‘eighteen.’

  ‘What about directors?’

  ‘There’s just Worthy himself and Alex Lambert.’

  ‘What’s Lambert’s story?’

  ‘His dad was at school with John Worthy and they were friends right up until Victor Lambert’s death. Alex took over his dad’s role at Worthy’s two years ago when he became ill. He’s got a degree in business studies, he’s a qualified accountant and has plenty of industry experience. Worthy doesn’t have any children of his own, and it looks like Alex will be managing director one day.’

  ‘Can’t be bad.’ Catherine shoved her hair behind her ears.

  ‘He doesn’t have a criminal record?’

  ‘No. He mentioned being involved in the management of a club when he was younger though?’

  ‘Yeah, some place in Lincoln. You’re thinking about the drug angle?’ Chris asked.

  ‘Coke and nightclubs go together like . . .’

  ‘Beans and toast? Beer and kebabs? Bacon and brown sauce?’

  ‘Was that your stomach rumbling?’

  ‘Might have been.’

  ‘Right, go and get some food, then see what you can dig up about Alex Lambert’s nightclub.’

He stood up.

  ‘Got a feeling in your water about him, Sarge?’

  ‘That or indigestion.’

  ‘Hunger pangs.’

  ‘That’ll be it.’

She took out her phone.

Ellie was sitting in the same seat that Helen Bridges had occupied the day before. The same man was behind the counter too. He gave Catherine a cheery wave. ‘Back again?’

She smiled at him and slid into the chair opposite Ellie, who said, ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘You too. Have you ordered?’ Ellie shook her head.

  As they sat back down with their drinks, Catherine asked, ‘So is Ellie short for anything?’

She laughed in surprise.

  ‘I’ve never been asked that before.’

  ‘Not by anyone?’

  ‘Not that I remember. My full name’s Eleanor.’

  ‘But you don’t use it?’

  ‘My parents have always called me Ellie.’

There was a short silence. Catherine glanced around, picked up a fork and turned it a few times in her hand.

  ‘What do you do at the council?’ she asked.

  ‘I work in accounts.’

Catherine wrinkled her nose. ‘That sounds . . . interesting.’

Ellie laughed and the awkwardness evaporated.

  ‘Not as interesting as your job, that’s for sure. How’s it going?’

  ‘At the moment it’s frustrating.’

Their food arrived and they tucked into chip butties with enthusiasm. Catherine squirted tomato ketchup onto her plate, dipped a chip into it and said, ‘I didn’t tell Chris I was meeting you.’

Ellie met Catherine’s gaze, her eyes dancing. ‘I didn’t tell Faye either.’

They smiled, feeling like conspirators. Catherine bit into her chip butty again, not sure why she was here but pleased all the same. Ellie wiped her mouth.

  ‘You said work is frustrating?’

Catherine nodded, swallowing her mouthful.

  ‘It happens more often than not during an investigation. You reach a point where you’ve followed every lead, spoken to every person. We’re not quite there yet, but it can feel like you’re treading water until a new piece of information comes in.’

  ‘A bit like when a client dumps a year’s worth of receipts on your desk and expects you to do a tax return for them. It happened a lot in my last job.’

  ‘All the answers are in there, it’s just putting them into some sort of order.’ Catherine nodded. She hesitated for a second, then asked, ‘Have you always lived in Northolme?’

  ‘I grew up in a village on the other side of Lincoln. I moved over here when I met my girlfriend.’ Ellie paused and gave a tiny smile. ‘When she died, I’d just started a new job at the council. They were good to me, Faye especially, so I stayed.’

  ‘What happened?’ Catherine asked, her voice gentle. ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’

  ‘It’s fine. She had cancer, stomach cancer. Quite rare at her age. Nine months from her being diagnosed to her death, almost to the day. We were together for three years, just about.’

  ‘It must have been terrible.’

  ‘It was. She never complained, didn’t even speak about it. Told me that I should still do all the things we’d planned to do together: the holidays, the weekends away. She wanted me to be happy. I suppose a lot of people tell their partners that when they know they’re dying.’

  ‘She sounds lovely.’

  ‘Yeah, she was. I was so angry, not with her but with life, with cancer. She never felt like that, or if she did she didn’t say so. I couldn’t believe it. We’d just found each other, we were planning the rest of our lives, and then . . . then she was gone. I felt numb for months. I just went to work, went home, lost touch with my friends, didn’t talk to my family. Then, one day I went to her grave and it dawned on me that she would hate the way I was living. It wasn’t even living, just ticking off a day and getting through the next one.’ She smiled, looking up from beneath damp eyelashes. Catherine felt like a fraud. This poor woman was pouring her heart out and Catherine’s own mourning seemed trite in comparison, almost an insult. She didn’t know what to say. The truth?

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She felt helpless. Ellie took a deep breath.

  ‘No, I am. You didn’t need to hear all that.’

  ‘It’s just that . . . well, it makes me feel stupid.’

Ellie frowned, concerned.

  ‘Stupid? What do you mean?’

Catherine took a breath and started to talk, starting from the minute she and Claire had met and ending with the day of her funeral. Ellie listened without interrupting until Catherine fell silent.

  ‘I’d no idea. What a nightmare,’ she said at last. ‘How it must have felt, to be betrayed like that . . . A killer. It’s unthinkable.’

Catherine managed a crooked smile. ‘It’s different, that’s for sure.’

Ellie glanced at the clock on the wall opposite and groaned.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Catherine, I’m going to have to go.’

Turning in her chair, Catherine saw they’d been sitting there for almost an hour.

  ‘God, so am I.’

They hurried to their feet, pulling on coats and scarves. Ellie picked up her bag, hesitated, then moved to Catherine’s side and kissed her cheek.

  ‘Thanks for listening.’

Catherine smiled. ‘You too.’ Talking about Claire had calmed her. It was as if the whole thing had happened to someone else, someone she didn’t have to worry about. It had been like telling a story rather than a tearful account of the tragic events of her own life.

  Her phone was ringing. Catherine watched as Ellie gave another smile and left the café, waving as she passed the window.

  ‘Sarge, it’s me.’

  ‘How’s it going, Chris?’

  ‘I’m at the club Alex Lambert used to own. It sounds like cheap cocktails weren’t the only thing on the menu.’