Murder On Account Page 7

  “What does that do?”

  “It’ll record how much time you spend on each case.”

  “I do that already.”

  “How?”

  “I estimate it at the end of each day.”

  “Very scientific.” He pointed to the screen. “I’ve synchronised this with your case management system. When you start working, you select the appropriate case and press the green button. When you’ve finished, you press the red button.”

  “Is that all I have to do?”

  “Yeah. It will automatically log all your time to the appropriate case. That way you know how much to bill the customer. More importantly, you’ll be able to keep tabs on whether you’ve made a profit or a loss on each case.” He handed back the phone. “Give it a go.”

  “What do I do?”

  “What are you working on at the moment?”

  “I’m going to check out Mike Dale’s house.”

  “Which case is that?”

  “Fulton.”

  “You need to select that case and press the green button.”

  “Shouldn’t I do that when I arrive there?”

  “No. You should be logging every minute from the moment you step out of this office.”

  “Fair enough.” I selected the Fulton case from the menu, and pressed the green button.

  “Don’t forget to press the red button when you get back here.”

  “Actually, I probably won’t be back this afternoon because I’m working undercover on the Premax case tonight.”

  “Just make sure you update the app when you finish on one case and start on the other.”

  “I’ll do my best to remember. I’m not sure what time I’ll get in tomorrow.”

  “No problem. I’ve got plenty to be working on. With a bit of luck, your social media presence should be sorted out by this time tomorrow. I’ll set you up on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to start with.”

  “Won’t it be a lot of work to keep all those updated?”

  “No, trust me. And, besides, I’ll look after all the routine stuff.”

  “Okay. I’d better be making tracks. Give me a call if anything urgent crops up.”

  “Will do, and don’t forget to use TimeLogMaster.”

  “Okay.”

  I was feeling really pleased with my decision to take on Zero. Within the space of a couple of days, he’d sorted out my case management system, and if he was to be believed, I’d soon be the queen of social media.

  ***

  Mike Dale lived in a mews house in Knightsbridge. It wasn’t a rental—according to the Land Registry, he owned the property outright. Not even a mortgage. It appeared that he’d lived in the house for just over three years. At today’s prices, you’d get very little change out of two million.

  I’d been given to believe that Mike Dale wasn’t currently in a relationship, but while studying the property from across the road, I spotted someone in one of the downstairs rooms. I only caught a quick glimpse of them, but it appeared to be a woman in her forties.

  I rang the doorbell and waited.

  “Yes?” The woman opened the door just wide enough to peek out.

  “Is this Mike Dale’s house?”

  “It is. I’m his housekeeper.”

  “My name is Kat Royle. I’ve been hired by Mr Dale’s business partner, Ted Fulton, to try to locate Mr Dale. Do you happen to know where he is?”

  She opened the door a little wider. “No, he didn’t tell me he was going away.”

  “Did he take any clothes with him?”

  “No, his cases are still in the spare bedroom. I checked as soon as he didn’t come home.”

  “Would it be possible for me to come in and ask you a few questions?” I glanced up. “Please, it’s starting to rain out here.”

  “I suppose so.” She moved to one side, so I could step into the hallway.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “A cup of tea would be nice.”

  While making the tea, Rhian took the opportunity to tell me her life story. Originally from Wales, she’d been working in London for over ten years. This was her third housekeeping position, and judging by the way she talked about it, her favourite so far.

  “What kind of boss is Mr Dale?”

  “Very good compared to some of the people I’ve worked for. He’s fair, very friendly and he never talks down to me.”

  “Does he normally tell you when he’s decided to go away somewhere?”

  “Yes, even if it’s just for a long weekend.”

  “Had you noticed any kind of change in him in the days before he disappeared?”

  “No, he was pretty much the same as usual.” She took a sip of her tea.

  “No change to his routine? Nothing else unusual?”

  “No.” She hesitated. “Except for the break-in, but that happened afterwards.”

  “When?”

  “The day after he left.”

  “What did they take?”

  “Nothing. I wouldn’t have known they’d been inside the house if it hadn’t been for the forced window. I found it when I arrived the next morning.”

  “It’s strange that they didn’t take anything.”

  “The police reckon they must have been spooked by something and made a run for it.”

  “What about Mr Dale’s friends? Did he have many?”

  “None that came around here.”

  “No one?”

  “Not that I saw. Apart from Lisa of course.”

  “Lisa?”

  “I assumed you knew about her. She and Mr Dale were in a relationship for a while.”

  “Did she move in with him?”

  “Not exactly, but she did quite often spend the night here, and he regularly stayed at her place.”

  “What happened to the relationship? Do you know?”

  “Not really. They just stopped seeing one another.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have her address, would you?”

  “No. I do have her phone number, though. Would you like it?”

  “Yes, please. That would be great.” I gave her one of my new business cards that I’d collected from Vic earlier. “Would you call me if you think of anything else? Anything at all.”

  “Okay.”

  ***

  The Orchard was an old-style boozer. No designer beers to be found here, and the only food served was crisps, nuts and pork scratchings.

  “We don’t see you in here much these days, Kat.” Roly the landlord hadn’t trimmed his beard this side of the millennium.

  “I was in last Wednesday.”

  “Were you? That’s when I was having my boil lanced.”

  “Too much information, Roly.”

  “At least I can sit down now.”

  “Way too much.”

  “What are you drinking?”

  “Just a lime and lemon.”

  “You haven’t gone and got yourself a car, have you?”

  “No. I can’t have a drink because I’m working tonight.”

  “I see that boss of yours got himself murdered. My money was on you doing it.”

  “Cheers, buddy. It wasn’t me who did it, but I am trying to find out who did. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “He came in here most Fridays, and sometimes on a Saturday lunchtime if he’d had a few bets.”

  “Was he ever with anyone?”

  “Not usually.” Roly handed me the drink. “He was a bit of a loner, like you.” He glanced over at the door. “Watch out, Batman’s here!”

  Bruce Layne rolled his eyes at Roly, and then greeted me with the obligatory air kiss.

  “I’ll get Bruce’s drink.” I handed Roly a fiver.

  Once Bruce had his beer, he and I found a quiet table in the corner.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet me, Bruce.”

  “It’s not like I had anything better to do. I bet I can guess what it’s about.”

  “Roy.”

  “Tha
t’s what I figured. I didn’t think you could stand the guy?”

  “We weren’t exactly best buddies, but I’m doing this for his daughter, Anne. She’s pretty upset, as you can imagine.”

  “I believe she was the one who found him?”

  “Yeah. Poor girl.”

  “My deepest sympathies go out to the girl, but she should leave the investigation to the professionals.”

  “Come on, Bruce. Your lot aren’t interested. They’re trying to make out it was a burglary gone wrong. That’s utter nonsense.”

  “Who says?”

  “I do, and so does Anne. Why would they leave without taking the rest of his Rolexes?”

  “Maybe the burglar panicked?”

  “I still don’t buy it. Roy had made a lot of enemies over the years. Some really nasty people.”

  “The kind of people you’re talking about wouldn’t have killed him in his own home. They’d have knocked him off down a dark alley somewhere. This wasn’t a professional hit, Kat. All the indications are that Roy disturbed a burglar who panicked, grabbed a knife and struck out.”

  “How did the burglar get in? Anne told me that the door was locked when she arrived. It wasn’t damaged and there were no broken windows.”

  “Maybe the guy was already in the house when Roy got back. Roy might have forgotten to lock the door when he went out. That man did like his drink.”

  “So that’s it, is it? That’s all you’re going to do?”

  “It isn’t up to me, Kat. It’s not my case.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “Menzies’.”

  “I met him at my office. Do you think he’d talk to me?”

  He laughed. “Not a prayer.”

  “So what can I do?”

  “Find the real murderer.”

  Oh crap. I’d just realised that I hadn’t clocked off the Fulton case when I left Dale’s house. This app thing was going to take a lot of getting used to.

  I had hoped to get a few hours’ kip before reporting for duty at Premax, but my meeting with Bruce had put paid to that idea.

  Chapter 9

  Premax Acoustics was based on the Cottram Industrial Park in Islington. The company manufactured high quality micro-speakers, which were rebranded and sold by some of the biggest names in audio. Over the previous six months, someone had been stealing those speakers in alarmingly large numbers. The thefts had all happened at night during which time the offices and factory were cleaned by contract cleaners.

  Kevin Lockhart, the M.D, had convinced the owner of the contract cleaning company to let me join the cleaning team assigned to Premax. He’d met with little resistance because a refusal would have resulted in Premax cancelling the lucrative contract. So far, I’d completed one shift undercover at the plant, but I’d seen nothing to raise any suspicions.

  Before meeting up with the cleaning crew, I called Kevin Lockhart.

  “Kat? I heard about Roy, and I was beginning to think I’d have to look for someone else to take over the investigation.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’m sorry I’ve missed a couple of shifts, but as you can imagine, things went a bit pear-shaped after what happened to Roy.”

  “Understandably. What’s going to happen to the agency?”

  “I’ve taken it over. Things will continue as before.”

  “We really need to get to the bottom of these thefts once and for all.”

  “I know. Hopefully, I’ll have more luck tonight.”

  Zero would have been proud of me because I’d remembered to set TimeLogMaster running on the Premax case.

  A minibus collected me from outside London Bridge station. I was the last of the cleaning crew to be collected, and the only seats free were those at the very rear of the bus. No one wanted to sit there because the rear seats were raised, which meant there was less headroom.

  None of the other cleaners, including Gillian the supervisor, were aware that I was a ‘plant’. They no doubt viewed me as something of a liability because my pace had been way slower than what was expected. I also had an annoying habit of going missing, as I made frequent excursions to different areas of the building.

  “Hey, Flash,” Gillian shouted. She’d given me the nickname on my first night in the job. “I thought you must have thrown in the towel when you didn’t show up yesterday or the day before.”

  “Nah. I’ve had a bad cold.”

  “A cold?” Tina scoffed. She was Gillian’s unofficial second-in-command. “I wish I could afford to take time off with a runny nose. I managed to get here with a sprained ankle once, didn’t I, Gill?”

  “Yeah. These youngsters just don’t want work.”

  The temptation to answer back was very strong, but my alter ego, Rebecca, was too meek to do anything like that.

  “Just don’t keep going walkabout tonight or I’ll have to file a report on you.”

  “Sorry. It’s just my weak bladder.”

  “Jeez.” Tina scoffed. “This poor little flower is falling apart.”

  Security at the factory was very tight. Surrounded by a fifteen-foot tall fence, the only access was through a gatehouse that was manned twenty-four seven.

  After the minibus had pulled up at the gate, the driver allowed the security guard to get onboard so that he could scan the tags we were required to wear at all times. Once he was satisfied, he stepped down from the minibus, and waved us through. The main doors were locked at seven o’clock, so we had to enter via the fire exit at the rear of the building, adjacent to the loading bay.

  Once inside, each cleaner made their way to the area designated to them. Access around the building was controlled by the same ID tags that had been used to identify us at the gatehouse. Fortunately, each cleaner worked alone, which gave me a certain amount of freedom. Even so, I was conscious that Gillian would spend all night checking on us, and I was sure that I’d be getting more than my fair share of her attention.

  I was hoping that I might spot someone inside the building who shouldn’t have been there, but so far, the only people I’d seen had been the other cleaners. Could one of them be involved in the thefts? I didn’t see how because we all arrived and left together. It’s not like they could have simply walked out of the factory with a box of speakers under their arm. And even if they had, they wouldn’t have got through the gates.

  “Daydreaming again, Flash?” Gillian had a knack for sneaking up on me.

  “Sorry.” I began to empty the bins.

  “I don’t understand why you took this job. You’re clearly not cut out for it. What job did you do before this one?”

  “I worked in a shop.”

  “Which one?”

  “You wouldn’t know it. A greengrocer in Lewford.”

  “I hope you knew your onions better than you know your mops.” She laughed at what I assumed was supposed to be a joke.

  For the rest of the night, I did the bare minimum of cleaning, in-between checking out the rest of the building, in the hope that I might see someone or something suspicious.

  I didn’t. And by the time we were collected by the same minibus, at four o’clock in the morning, I was dead on my feet.

  At least I’d be able to have a lie-in.

  ***

  Someone was knocking at my door.

  “You can’t be serious!” I rolled over, and grabbed my phone from the bedside cabinet. It was seven-thirty! Who could that be at this time of the morning? Whoever it was would be sorry.

  I threw on some jeans and the t-shirt I’d worn the previous day, and then started for the door.

  Not quickly enough, apparently, because there was another knock.

  I pulled open the door to find the Widow Manning standing there. “What?”

  “He needs to go out.” She gestured to the lab.

  “I thought Luke was going to walk him?”

  “He sent word last night that he has a school trip today. He had to go in early.”

  “Can’t you take him this once?
I was working last night.”

  “I would but my varicose veins are giving me gyp.” She handed me the lead. “You’d better look sharp because he’s been making some awful smells.”

  Great!

  I grabbed my shoes and headed for the lift. It wasn’t until I was stuck in that confined space with a flatulent dog that I realised how slowly those lifts travelled. By the time we reached ground level, I was ready to claw the doors open.

  As soon as we arrived at the park, the dog did his stuff. I was genuinely worried that the small plastic bags might not be up to the task; whoever had designed them obviously hadn’t accounted for this volume of output.

  While I was posting the revolting package into the bin, the dog wandered off down the park. “Hey, Rexy, don’t go too far!”

  “Who’s Rexy?”

  When I turned around, Graham and his dog were standing there.

  “You’re beginning to look like a stalker.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Who’s Rexy?”

  “The dog, of course. Who else would I be shouting at?”

  “The black lab? I thought he was called The Brick?”

  “He was. He still is, I suppose.”

  “What did he do, change his name by deed poll?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You’ve been having a laugh at my expense, haven’t you? He never was called The Brick, was he? You must have thought I was a right mug to fall for that.”

  “Do you want to hear the explanation or not?”

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “The dog’s official name is The Brick. I discovered yesterday that the young lad from the greengrocer used to walk him for Walt. Luke, that’s the kid, decided to call him Rexy. I’m surprised you haven’t seen the two of them in here.”

  “Maybe I have, but they’re unlikely to have registered on my radar. You, on the other hand, made an immediate impression.”

  “Am I supposed to be flattered by that?”

  “If you like. By the way, have you decided where we’re going?”

  “Going when?”

  “For that drink you promised to have with me.”

  “I seem to recall I turned you down flat.”

  “Yeah, but I could tell you didn’t mean it.”