Risky Business Read online

  I got through to Gerry’s PA, gave my name, said it was personal and was told he’d get back to me. He rang less than an hour later.

  “Charlie, how the hell are you?” he asked.

  “Good. And you?”

  “I saw you at that god-awful shindig the other night, but when I looked for you again you were gone.” He chuckled. “Not that I blame you if you were with that redhead.”

  “How’s it going, Gerry?”

  “Well, you know, I’m scraping by.” He paused and I heard someone in the background asking him something. “Sorry about that,” he said, coming back on the line. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “I wondered if you could spare half an hour for a beer sometime. There’s something I need to ask you.”

  “The local nick in need of double glazing, is it?” he asked hopefully.

  “Hardly. Besides, some toe-rag would probably lift it before it could even be installed. Anyway, I got out of that line of work a while back.”

  “Can’t say as I blame you. All that abuse. Never could understand why anyone would want to be an officer of the law.”

  “I’m starting to come round to that point of view myself.”

  We arranged to meet at the marina later that day. He’d tried to get me to say what it was about but I didn’t want to frighten him off by giving any clues. I had a feeling he might already suspect the truth, given the way we danced round the issue of the party by only giving it a passing mention.

  I was waiting for him when he arrived that evening, ten minutes late.

  “Sorry, Charlie,” he said. “Bloody customers kept changing their minds about the frames they want. I ask you, how hard can it be? It’s enough to drive you to drink. Talking of which, what’re you having.”

  “It’s my shout. I asked to meet.”

  “Forget it.” He attracted the barmaid’s attention and pointed to my half-empty glass. “Another of whatever that was and a pint of special for me, please.”

  We took our drinks to a quiet corner table. “How’s Andy?” I asked.

  “Doing great. He’s at university now, in his final year and straight as a die, thanks to you.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You put the fear of God into him. He realised the error of his ways and dropped the bad crowd he was mixing with.” He paused. “At the time it seemed like the end of the world but I can see now that it was probably the best thing that could have happened to him.”

  I waved aside his gratitude. “I have a young son of my own. If he got into bad company, I’d like to think that someone would take the time to set him straight.”

  “Yeah, well, any time I can do something for you, you have but to ask.”

  “That’s why we’re here.” I paused to take a sup of beer. “Peter Garnet,” I said, watching him closely.

  “Ah.” He slowly replaced his glass on the table and met my gaze. “I thought it might be.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Why do you want to know? I’ll tell you what I can, provided you really are no longer a policeman?”

  “I really am no longer a policeman. Cross my heart.”

  He chuckled. “Just checking.”

  “Tell me how you got involved with Garnet.”

  “I rue the bloody day,” he said with feeling. “The man’s bad news and you’d be well advised to steer well clear. He looks like butter wouldn’t melt but beneath that smarmy exterior he’s as hard as fucking nails.” He picked up his glass again but didn’t drink. “You still haven’t told me why you’re asking about him.”

  “I do a bit of freelance investigating for individuals nowadays, and his name came up.”

  “The women love him.” He spread his hands. “They get primped and pampered at his fancy club, and he knows just how to keep them on his side. But you won’t find too many men who have a good word to say for him.”

  “Yourself included, it seems.”

  He saluted me with his glass. “You obviously haven’t lost your touch.”

  “And yet you invested in his revamped club.”

  His glass hit the table so hard that beer sloshed over its rim. “How the fuck did you know that?”

  “You just told me.”

  He realised his mistake and grimaced. “Well, it seemed like a good opportunity. I might not like the guy but business is business.”

  I leaned back in my chair and grinned at him. “Bullshit!”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Look, Gerry, you said you owed me a favour so how about cutting the crap and being straight with me?”

  “There’s nothing sinister about it,” he said defensively.

  I allowed an uncomfortable silence to lengthen between us. If he was desperate to keep his indiscretion from his wife and invested in the business of a man he despised for that reason, he was obviously going to be cautious about opening up. Especially to me, what with my connections to the establishment.

  “Let me hit you with a hypothetical situation then,” I said, sitting forward and leaning my elbows on the table. “I go, in all innocence, for massage at a new club because my wife’s nagged me into it. She says it’s a great place, everyone who matters is joining, and they’re offering a special deal to get more men to sign up. I’m stressed out. I work too hard. It’ll do me the world of good. I go to shut her up, expecting a twenty-stone Swedish masseur to pummel the life out of me. Instead I get a gorgeous babe who’s willing to rub a great deal more than my back.” I glance up at him. “How am I doing so far?”

  He didn’t answer me but then he didn’t need to. His expression said it all.

  “Afterwards I feel great. A big guilty but, hey, it was just a blow job. No one needs to know. But then I start getting pictures in the post, sent to the office, marked for my personal attention. Damaging pictures of my pecker in this nearly naked woman’s mouth, making it look a damned sight worse than it actually was. Hell, the woman’s not wearing much but what she is wearing differs from picture to picture, as though it’s been going on for some time. I’m terrified that the next picture will finish up on my home doormat. Then there’ll be hell to pay. My wife doesn’t have a forgiving nature, and I can’t afford a divorce. Heck, I don’t want a divorce. So, when I’m invited to partake of a good business opportunity, I don’t really have a lot of choice.” I focused my eyes on his face, which he’d turned slightly away from me. “But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. Well, who would be? No one likes a blackmailer.”

  I stopped talking and waited out the silence. Finally he broke it.

  “Hypothetically speaking, I guess it could happen that way,” he said. “If a couple’s relationship was under strain because their only son had been experimenting with drugs. If the mother wanted to mollycoddle him and the father wanted to go down the tough-love route, it’s easy enough to imagine him being a bit frustrated because the wife was no longer giving out.”

  “How much would he need to invest to buy the blackmailer’s silence?”

  “I should imagine something in the region of two hundred grand.”

  I let out a soft whistle. “That much?”

  “If he had a going business then it might even be a shrewd investment,” Gerry said, guilt making him sound even more defensive.

  “How many people would our slimeball need to snare?”

  “That I couldn’t say. Not even hypothetically. Judging by the way that none of the men wanted to be there the other night and certainly didn’t want to talk about their investment, I’d say as many as fifteen.”

  A cool three million then. “But the women love being able to say that they’re investors in the club. That’s clever.”

  “Garnet gives them a special category of membership. All sorts of perks not availa
ble to the general mob that they can boast about to their friends,” Gerry said, giving up all pretence. “It makes me sick to the stomach to be in the same room as the prick.” He paused, staring into the depths of his glass as though seeking inspiration there. “And another thing. He’s given that club a superficial makeover, imported that jungle you saw in the atrium and made a flashy reception area, but I can’t see that he’s done much to the rest of it other than slap on a fresh coat of paint in the places that show.”

  “You don’t think he used the money for the intended purpose then?”

  Gerry shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. If he doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s doing, then no one will find out. Not if they value their health. He’ll produce invoices and stuff to satisfy his accountant but I doubt if they’ll be kosher, and you can bet your life that no one will cross-question him. He’s not the sort you accuse of being bent.”

  So, if he didn’t want the money to refurbish his clubs, what was it for?

  “There must have been some marks who told him to fuck off,” I said. “Not everyone would care about being caught with their pants down. Some couples do have open marriages.”

  “Yeah, but he could still embarrass the bloke by letting the pictures fall into the wrong hands. His business competitors, his mother-in-law, or whoever. I doubt whether people would risk that sort of…er, exposure.” His derisive laugh was devoid of all humour. “Easier to pay up and shut up.”

  “That’s what blackmailers depend on.” I took a long swallow of beer. “They seldom stop at one hit either.”

  “I think this one will. He’s not stupid. He knows it’s not our own money he’s taking but that it belongs to our businesses. I don’t have a partner to justify it to but I’m pretty sure some of the others he’s tapped do. Christ knows how they’ve managed to pass it off as a good investment. As it was, I had to go against our solicitor’s advice and sign the contract when he picked all sorts of holes in it and advised me not to.”

  “I take it the contract doesn’t allow for a very beneficial return on your investment.”

  He shot me a look. “It’s what you might call open to interpretation. I certainly don’t expect to see my money again.” This time his laugh was a little more genuine. “The most expensive blow job I ever got, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, thanks for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy to admit that you’ve been played. But I enjoyed our hypothetical chat.”

  “Actually, it was a relief to talk about it.”

  “Confession is good for the soul, so the navel-gazers would have us believe.”

  “Yeah.” He drained his glass and stood up. “I haven’t asked you why you want to know all this and I’m not going to. Just get the bastard and bring him down, Charlie. I assume that’s your intention.” I nodded. “Well, good for you but for God’s sake watch your back. This guy doesn’t play by the rules.”

  I snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  * * *

  I went back to the boat, collected Gil and went off for a long walk. I spent an hour trying to convince myself there had to be another way forward other than the one that had lodged itself in my brain. When we returned I was no nearer to finding it. Having attended to Gil’s culinary needs, I threw a sandwich together and retreated to the wheelhouse, still trying to figure out why Garnet needed money so badly that he was prepared to resort to blackmailing some of Brighton’s leading businessmen.

  His dog-racing scam had failed and he’d been short of cash. Well, short by his standards. I suspected that he’d still had more than enough to satisfy the average person’s needs. But there was nothing average about Garnet. His blackmailing activities must have involved Miller, at least inasmuch as he would have drawn up the contracts for his marks to sign. He might not have known how Garnet was blackmailing them, but he would have known that no sane businessman would sign such one-sided contracts without coercion. Perhaps some of the entries in his latest notebook pertained to those dealings.

  I opened a can of beer and leaned back with my feet up on my desk, pondering. Whatever he was doing, I was willing to bet that Garnet was doing it from his health club in Hove. It now appeared to be the hub of his operation and, unlike his nightclubs, was situated outside the city away from prying eyes. Still, there was only one way to be sure. I’d have to do what I’d spent the evening trying to talk myself out of doing and go there again myself. He’d invited me to try the place out anytime I liked. I didn’t like, not one little bit, but I had no choice. It was either that or wait for Slater to find a way to fit me up for Miller’s murder. With Slater on my mind I called Jimmy’s mobile to see what progress he’d made with the mysterious D.H.

  “Waste of fucking time, mate,” he told me. “The guy was released from the slammer a month or so before Miller was topped. Miller defended him on attempted murder. Almost ripped the head off his wife’s lover, he did. He was found guilty and started shouting about Miller not putting up the right witnesses. Told anyone who’d listen that he’d be made to pay.”

  “He sounds likely. Good for you, mate.”

  “Good for fuck all. He was back inside when Miller got done. Violated his parole.”

  “Ah. Don’t suppose he contracted the job out?”

  “I’m looking into it but I don’t think so.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Yeah, so am I. Katrina Simpson is looking like a dead end too.”

  I could hear the frustration in his voice. He desperately wanted to get one over Slater. I wanted that too and not just because it would enhance Jimmy’s career.

  “Any other bright ideas?” he asked.

  “I assume you’re tracing Miller’s final activities,” I said, thinking of his dinner with Garnet.

  “Well, Slater isn’t exactly making it a priority.”

  I didn’t need him to tell me what, or who, was top of her list. “I gather Miller liked to eat at the Rainbow,” I told him.

  “Gotcha! Thanks, mate.”

  “Keep in touch,” I said before breaking the connection.

  I phoned Garnet’s club the following morning, before I could change my mind. The receptionist recognised my name—Mr. Garnet had told her to expect my call, apparently. She said it would be fine for me to use any of the club’s facilities that day and would I like her to book me in for a massage? I said that I would.

  It occurred to me as I rode the bike toward Hove, my gym gear stored in the top box, that I ought to have left word with someone about where I was going. Just in case. But who could I have told? Cleo didn’t need to know about my suspicions. I didn’t want to put her in harm’s way. And Kara would probably have insisted upon coming with me. I hadn’t forgotten the shit she dropped me in when she impulsively followed her sister into the lion’s den. That wasn’t what I was doing now. I was merely accepting an offer of a free workout and massage. Who wouldn’t? Besides, Garnet still thought I was considering his offer. I wasn’t in any danger.

  Upon arrival an attractive employee was standing by to give me a guided tour of all the bits I hadn’t seen during the party. Once again the swings above the pool were in use but this time their occupants wouldn’t exactly stop traffic. An overweight middle-aged woman and two gangly teenagers. I was shown the gym stocked with state-of-the-art equipment, a swimming pool intended for serious use, and a long line of closed doors behind which a bewildering array of treatments apparently took place. What the fuck was a seaweed wrap, anyway?

  My lovely guide pointed out a dining room where I’d be able to get anything I wanted to eat at lunchtime. I was tempted to ask if I could get a burger and fries but stopped myself. With the tour exhausted, Lydia handed me over to an attendant at the door to the men’s room. He provided me with a locker for my valuables and a towelling robe to wear whilst in the club.

  I used the gym
but found no one in there worth talking to. Even so, I enjoyed the exercise and was ready to cool off afterwards by doing a few laps. I had the pool virtually to myself. The only other people in it were intent upon swimming hard too.

  By the time I’d showered, I was starving. I had an hour to wait before my massage so I donned the stupid robe and headed for the food. Health drinks, salads, all sorts of stuff that Kara would approve of. I refrained from asking for a beer and took my meagre lunch to a corner table where I could watch the comings and goings.

  It was almost all women using the place. I drew some curious glances but they barely stemmed their chatter about the treatments they’d just had, were about to have or were considering. I wondered if Garnet was on the premises. Even if he wasn’t, I was willing to bet that he knew I was here. I’d half expected him to appear but so far there was no sign of him.

  I demolished my food and wandered to the massage room, hoping one of the young ladies from the other night would be taking care of me. Instead I got a male masseur who barely spoke a word but did a professional job of easing out some of my knotted joints. The massage rooms were at the back of the club, close to a door marked private. It wasn’t the door that led to Garnet’s office—that was down another corridor. Nor did it lead to the staffrooms. I knew because I’d watched some of the employees coming and going through another door beyond the dining room.

  What was so private that the door required a hefty great lock? I hadn’t noticed locks on any of the other doors. Before I could figure out its significance the guy pummelling my back with the sides of his hands finally called it a day.

  “All done,” he said, throwing a towel over my buttocks. “Relax for a while. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Don’t leave it too long or I’ll be sound asleep.”

  “That’s the general idea.”