Risky Business Page 11

“He runs nightclubs, amongst other things.” She flapped the hand not holding her drink, as though talking about anything other than herself bored her rigid. It probably did. “I come here to get away from all that.”

  “From that or from him?”

  She shot me a look and I wondered if I’d overplayed my hand. She could do one of three things. Get up and walk away, throw her drink in my face or answer my question. I waited out the ensuing silence, curious to see which way she’d jump.

  “A bit of both, I suppose,” she said, not meeting my gaze. Her mood had turned introspective and for the first time I sensed that I was catching glimpses of the real woman beneath all that flamboyance. “Peter collects possessions and I suppose that includes me.”

  “But you’re here alone so he can’t be that possessive.”

  “Am I?” She nodded toward a guy I’d seen loitering all the evening, apparently watching our table but never playing. I’d thought he might be yet another person tailing me but now knew that it was Andrea he had in his sights. He looked vaguely familiar. I was pretty sure I’d had dealings with him in my previous life but couldn’t put a name to the face. “One of my husband’s flunkies,” she explained. “Peter never likes me to go out at night alone.”

  “And during the day?” I dropped my voice to a suggestive whisper.

  “Well now,” she said, draining her glass and signalling for a refill. “That’s another matter.” She slipped the mat with my phone number on it into her bag and smiled at me. “Besides, I always pay my debts. Let me know when you’ll be back in again and I’ll see you straight.”

  “No hurry. Besides, I live on my boat in the marina here. I’m off to France for a few days so it’ll have to be when I get back.”

  “That must be an interesting lifestyle.”

  “It has its moments.” I leaned an elbow on the bar and rested my chin in my cupped hand, looking directly at her. “I’ve been trying to think where I know you from. Did I see you the other day, coming out of a solicitor’s office in town?”

  She wrinkled her brow. “When?”

  “I can’t remember the date but I do remember coming out of my brief’s place in Montpelier Road last week and passing someone who looked a lot like you.” I treated her to one of my rare smiles. “I never forget a beautiful face.”

  “Oh, you charmer you!” Her new drink arrived and she took a healthy swig, enjoying the flattery. “Yes, it might have been me. I was there last week.”

  “You know Miller’s dead, don’t you?”

  “Yes, isn’t it shocking? The police came to see me. Some officious woman inspector who seemed to want to pin the crime on me.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine a little thing like me stabbing a great hulk like Miller? Anyway, why would I?”

  “If it’s any consolation the same woman came to see me and actually took me down the nick for questioning.”

  She looked surprised. “You? Why would you kill Miller?”

  “That’s what the inspector was hoping I’d tell her.” I shrugged. “Like it’s any of her business why I was seeking legal advice.”

  “I told her exactly the same thing when she asked me what I’d been to see Miller about. Anyway, even if I’d wanted to tell her, I could hardly say I’d gone to consult him about divorcing Peter.”

  My eyebrows shot skywards. “Things that bad, are they?”

  “A woman likes to be loved, not possessed.”

  Her glance strayed toward the man watching her and it struck me that I wasn’t targeting Andrea Garnet. It was the other way round. Absorbing the blow, I wondered what game she was playing, and on whose orders. Miller wasn’t a divorce specialist but he was her husband’s brief. If Andrea really did want a divorce then Miller was the last solicitor on earth she’d consult. Besides, Garnet would have known that the police visited his wife at home. Even if he hadn’t been there at the time, something like that would soon get back to him. If Andrea didn’t tell him the truth, one of his contacts sure as hell would. I was definitely being played but went along with the charade, hoping to discover why.

  Andrea turned toward the man who was guarding her and beckoned him over. “This is Tommy,” she said. “You can talk freely in front of him.”

  The man shot a questioning glance at Andrea but didn’t speak.

  “Your husband doesn’t sound like the type to let you go.”

  She pulled a face. “Even if he was I’d never get a fair settlement. You’ve seen for yourself how mean he can be. Besides, half his assets are hidden and even I don’t know where they are.”

  The man she called Tommy was regarding me with suspicion. He and Andrea seemed very friendly, which got me wondering. He probably thought Andrea was being too open with a stranger and I was with him on that one. I definitely knew him but his last name just wouldn’t come. It irked me but was hardly something I could ask. One thing was for certain, though. If I recognised Tommy whatever, he as sure as hell knew who I was. This was definitely a setup.

  “It’s a shame Miller finished up with a knife in his guts instead of Peter,” she said, draining her glass and standing up. “That would have solved all my problems.”

  “Nice meeting you,” I said, shaking her hand and then kissing her on each cheek.

  “You too, Charlie. And I really will repay that money soon. I promise you.”

  As I watched them leave the room, I wondered how she knew Miller had been stabbed in the stomach. That detail hadn’t been made public and I only knew myself because Jimmy was keeping me informed.

  Chapter Eight

  “Why would she tell you all that then?”

  Cleo had called at the boat the following morning, wanting a full account of my conversation with Andrea. I’d given her the abridged version.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Charlie, it doesn’t suit you. Why did a complete stranger tell you she wanted to divorce her husband? It’s hardly the sort of thing that would crop up in conversation.”

  “You’d be surprised what people told me when I was in the job.”

  “Only because you got the thumbscrews out.”

  “Good point.”

  “So,” she said, her sweet tone belying her determined stance. “Are you going to tell me why you think she opened up to you like that?”

  I shrugged. “Perhaps she just liked my face.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Ah now, don’t go getting upset. I only flirted with her because you said I had to.”

  “And you didn’t enjoy it one bit.”

  “How well you know me.”

  “Be serious, Charlie.”

  “I am.”

  She pulled a face. “I don’t like this. It’s a little bit too convenient that Andrea came into the casino the day after I went back on duty.”

  “Well, you said yourself that she was a regular.”

  “Not that regular. And anyway, that still doesn’t explain why she bared her soul to you?”

  “You told me to use my charm.”

  “You’re not that charming.”

  “You know how to wound,” I said with a dramatic sigh, waving the kettle in her direction.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

  Cleo was worse than Gil with his Frisbee when she got her teeth into something. She absolutely refused to let go. I was ahead of her though. The same questions she was plaguing me with had already occurred to me. The only conclusion I’d been able to reach was that the guy in denim who’d been following me was employed by Garnet. That being the case they’d know about the questions I’d been asking and my association with Cleo. So we had to be getting close.

  But close to what?

  “I phoned Jimmy when I got back last
night and asked him to have a look on the quiet at the papers for the Spelling case,” I told her.

  “Oh, why?”

  That worked like a charm. I had her full attention now and she’d forgotten all about Andrea Garnet.

  “Just to see if there’s something obvious we’re overlooking. I’d like to know if there were any other names in the frame, besides your dad’s.”

  “So would I. When will he get back to you?”

  “When he can.” I handed her a mug of coffee. “Don’t worry, he won’t hang about.”

  “But how will that help us?” She had a penchant for good questions today.

  “Dunno, but the more I think about this, the more it comes back to betting. Sport was the key to everything back then and it looks like it still is today.”

  “What, Miller’s murder, you mean?”

  “Yes. And my gut tells me that Garnet’s up to his neck in the whole mess.”

  Cleo seemed subdued and didn’t speak for several minutes. “This is getting dangerous.”

  “There’s an element of risk in what we’re doing but I don’t envisage finishing up like Miller.”

  I regretted the words as soon as they’d left my mouth. She was starting to realise what she’d got herself—got us—into, and if I voiced similar doubts she’d probably give up her sleuthing. But it didn’t occur to me. I guess I needed answers. And there was still the trifling matter of Slater trying to pin Miller’s murder on me.

  “Want to give it up?” I asked belatedly.

  “God no, I’m still game but I didn’t mean to get you into this.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I know that.”

  My phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw the call was coming from France. It was my mate, the one I was due to see at the weekend, cancelling because his wife had been taken ill.

  “Problem?” Cleo asked as I hung up.

  “My trip to France has been called off.”

  “I’m sorry. You were looking forward to it.”

  “Well, it can’t be helped. There’ll be another time.”

  * * *

  She’d been gone less than half an hour when Jimmy did call, giving me the names of two suspects in the Kendall case.

  “They were both grilled at the time,” he said. “But you probably wouldn’t have been aware, not being on the case. They were both known associates of Spelling’s but they had airtight alibis.”

  “Do these faces have names, Jimmy?”

  “Yeah, and you’ll recognise at least one of them. Frank Glover.”

  “Now him I have no trouble seeing as a murderer,” I said, calling up a mental picture of the muscle-bound, heavily tattooed thug in question. “We obviously couldn’t get anything to stick.”

  “No, and the other one’s called Mallet. Tommy Mallet.”

  “Tommy?” Of course, Andrea’s friend.

  “Yeah, does it mean something?”

  “No, not much.” Jimmy didn’t need to know how my mind was working any more than Cleo did. “Who do they work for now?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Peter Garnet.”

  “Did Garnet alibi them both?”

  “Yes. So did Garnet’s wife.”

  What a surprise. “Why were they suspects?”

  “They’d both been seen with Spelling on the night he died but they weren’t on the CCTV tape.”

  We talked round in circles for a while. Speculating. It was a bit like the old days. I had a feeling Jimmy was enjoying it too. Unless Slater had changed her ways since I got out, she didn’t have much time for the opinions of her junior officers.

  “Have you looked at Garnet and Mallet for Miller’s killing?” I asked.

  “No, any reason why we should?”

  “Nothing specific but it might be worth trying to find out where they were on the day in question.”

  “If she’ll let me,” Jimmy said morosely. “I’ll have to run it past her first and she’ll want to know why I suspect them. Garnet’s well connected nowadays and I won’t get away with asking questions of his employees without a good reason.”

  “Okay, leave it with me. If I can come up with a reason for you to look at them I’ll get back to you.”

  I was still trying to figure out why I suspected Garnet’s lackeys of bumping off his brief when my phone rang again. They say when one door closes another opens, and this was a prime example. A call from my stepbrother’s employer brought with it an invitation.

  Hal Faraday owned a powerboat team and was married to Gloria, a violinist who’d been a particular friend of my mother’s. She’d left the orchestra a few years before Mum’s death to marry him. A multimillionaire, Hal had ignored the hordes of women trailing in his wake and pursued Gloria relentlessly until she succumbed to his coercive charm. Hal came up from nothing and was now CEO of Spectre Sports and Leisure plc, a company he’d started from scratch back in the eighties by investing in one small leisure complex.

  Perhaps because of his humble origins, he was no pushover and was wise to just about every dodge in the book. That was why I was astonished that Paul, my stepbrother, had remained in his employ for over a year. Paul might be loosely connected to Gloria through his mother and my father, but Hal wouldn’t cut him any slack because of that. If he’d tried his usual crap with Hal, he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in his organisation. If he was still clinging on, he must really want that job for some reason. Paul instinctively knew how far he could push people and when to back off.

  “Hal, how the hell are you? I was just thinking about you.”

  “Good thoughts, I hope.”

  “Are there any other kind?”

  “You have no idea.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice and didn’t need him to tell me that he was in good health. He had to be over sixty now but was blessed with an inexhaustible supply of energy that left me standing when he got a bee in his bonnet about something he decided needed doing immediately.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked him.

  “I’m under orders to invite you down for a few days. Gloria has a party planned for Wednesday night and you’re on the guest list.”

  I thought about it, but only for a moment. Hal and Gloria had a massive house on the Beaulieu River complete with its own mooring. I could take the No Comment and make up for the aborted trip to France by spending a few days with my old friends. And perhaps I’d bump into Paul there. Kill two birds with one stone. If I was in the same room with him I wouldn’t be able to find a reason to put off tackling him.

  “Okay, you’re on. What’s the occasion? For the bash, I mean.”

  Hal groaned. “When you get to my age the last thing you want is to celebrate the passing of yet another year. Unfortunately Gloria doesn’t see it that way.”

  I chuckled, suspecting that his protestations were entirely feigned. There was nothing Hal enjoyed more than a good party and he certainly knew how to throw one in style. “So you’re in need of a little masculine support?”

  “Something like that.” Hal’s throaty laugh echoed down the line. “Bring the boat and a date. I’m sure you can persuade some unsuspecting lady to keep you company.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He paused. “Oh and, Charlie, Paul will be here. Hope that won’t cause any problems.”

  Quite the reverse. “Not at all.”

  “Great, we’ll expect you late tomorrow afternoon. That way we can catch up before the hordes descend upon us on Wednesday. High tide’s at 6:00 p.m.”

  I told him I’d be there and cut the connection. Then, without stopping to think about the consequences, I rang Cleo and invited her to join me. She sounded intrigued and a little reluctant.

  “Big houses on the Beaulieu River.
” She paused. “It sounds great but I’m not sure I can get off work at such short notice.”

  I knew it wasn’t work commitments but rather her insecurities that made her hesitate. I wasn’t having that. A lot of the people at the party would be wealthy. Many would not. Few, I suspected, would be as honest as Cleo, especially given the role model she’d had as a kid. Besides, I wanted her where I could keep an eye on her and Garnet’s people couldn’t. Eventually I talked her round.

  “Bring your party shoes,” I told her.

  * * *

  It was about fifty nautical miles from Brighton to Beaulieu, so although my tub only cruised at about eight knots, it was a comfortable distance to cover in a day. Cleo and I remained protected from the elements as I steered from the enclosed wheelhouse. Because of that, the weather being a bit iffy, with quite a swell running, didn’t particularly bother me. It would be necessary to time my arrival at the mouth of the river to coincide with high tide. It was either that or hang about until there was enough water beneath the hull to navigate to Hal’s house without running aground.

  Normally I’d have slowed down and trawled a fishing line through the area where the bass like to lurk, but it was too rough for that. Besides, Cleo looked distinctly green, and slowing down even more would make the motion of the boat worse.

  “Don’t look down,” I told her. “Stare at the horizon and you’ll feel better.”

  “How can people say that boating’s glamorous?” She pouted. “I’ll never forgive you for putting me through this, Charlie Hunter. I told you I wasn’t a good sailor but you forced me to come.”

  “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

  “Short of calming this bloody water down there’s absolutely nothing you can do.” She managed a humourless grin. “Unless you know of a speedy and painless way for me to end it all.”

  “Drink some more water.” I handed her a plastic bottle. “It helps.”

  She clamped a hand over her mouth. “If I put anything inside me it’ll come straight up again.”

  I was about to tell her the reverse was true when I felt a vibration rattle through the entire boat.

  “What the fuck?” I checked the echo sounder, wondering if we’d hit an uncharted sandbank, but there was still plenty of water beneath the hull.