Murder On Account Read online

  “A mind reader, are you?”

  “Come on, Kat. What harm can one little drink do?”

  “I’m way too busy at the moment. I was working until four this morning.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I’ve told you what I do for a living. If it wasn’t for Rexy here, I’d still be in bed.” I glanced around. “Where did he go?”

  There was no sign of the lab.

  “He can’t have gone far.” Graham unclipped the lead from his dog’s collar. “Go find him, boy!”

  Miles headed down the park at a rate of knots, with Graham and me in hot pursuit.

  “The Widow Manning will kill me if anything has happened to him.”

  “Don’t worry. Miles will find him.”

  As Miles reached the far edge of the park, he suddenly veered to the right, towards a clump of bushes close to the railings. Moments after he’d disappeared from view, he began to bark loudly.

  Much to my relief, when we caught up with Miles, he was standing next to Rexy who was flat out, seemingly on the verge of sleep.

  “You silly dog.” I clipped on his lead. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “So?” Graham had a stupid grin on his face. “Now that I’ve helped to find your dog, are you going to change your mind about that drink?”

  “You didn’t find him. Miles did.”

  “Do I have to beg?”

  “It couldn’t do any harm.”

  “Would you please go for a drink with me, Kat? Pretty please?”

  “I’ll think about it when things quieten down at work.”

  “When will that be?”

  I shrugged, and then started back up the park with Rexy in tow.

  ***

  “I thought you said you’d be late in today.” Zero looked up from the computer.

  “That was the plan, but the dog had other ideas.”

  “You have a dog?”

  “He’s not really mine. Not all of him, anyway.”

  “Who owns the rest of him?”

  “The Widow Manning and Luke.”

  “That sounds like some kind of superhero mashup. I must admit, you don’t strike me as a dog person.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know. You seem like more of a kat person.” He laughed.

  “I do the jokes in this office. Were there any calls this morning?”

  “Yeah. Kevin Lockhart called about ten minutes ago. He wants you to ring him as soon as possible.”

  “Okay.” I started towards my office.

  “Your Facebook account is up and running by the way.”

  “You’ll have to show me later.”

  “Kevin, it’s Kat. I have a message to call you.”

  “Were you at the factory last night?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

  “That’s rather unfortunate because we lost two more boxes of speakers last night.”

  “I don’t get it. What about the CCTV? Have you checked that?”

  “I did that earlier. There’s nothing to see.”

  “I’m sorry, Kevin. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I’m paying for results, Kat. I’m prepared to give you one more try, but if it happens again, I’ll have to bring someone else in.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Do you want to see your Facebook page?” Zero asked when I went through to the outer office.

  “Later, maybe. I’ve just discovered I’m going to have to work again tonight.”

  “I thought you worked last night?”

  “I did.”

  “When will you sleep?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I assume this is the Premax case?”

  “Yeah, it seems like I messed up last night. The thieves managed to steal more speakers right from under my nose.”

  “What about CCTV? They must have it installed, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, but it didn’t pick anything up.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m just going on what Kevin Lockhart told me. I haven’t actually seen it myself.”

  “Why don’t I take a look at it? I might spot something they’ve missed.”

  “I’d have to contact the MD to see if he’d be okay with you going into the factory.”

  “There’s no need for that. I can check it from here.”

  “How are you going to do that? You’d need passwords and stuff, wouldn’t you?”

  “How very naïve you are.” He grinned.

  Chapter 10

  I had no idea how Zero intended to access Premax’s CCTV, and it was probably just as well that I didn’t know.

  Anne had been in touch to confirm that Roy’s funeral would be on Tuesday next week. I’d said I’d be there, and I’d contacted Sheila who said she’d also attend, provided she could get someone to stay with Don for a couple of hours. While I had Anne on the phone, I asked if the police had released Roy’s house yet.

  “Yeah, they called me last night to say they’d finished with it.”

  “Is it okay for me to take a look around there?”

  “Sure. Do you need me to be there?”

  “Not unless you particularly want to be.”

  “I’d rather not. You’ll find a key under the urn in the back garden.”

  “Okay. While I’m there, I’m going to see if I can find the accounts books. Your dad took them with him on Saturday. Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course. They belong to the business, and that’s yours now.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  ***

  Roy had lived in a three-bed semi, which was a five-minute walk from Upney tube station. I found the back door key underneath the ugly urn next to the shed, just as Anne had said it would be. Inside, the house was cold. It was possible Anne had turned the central heating down, but it was just as likely that Roy had lived there with it like that. He hated to spend money on anything apart from cigars and his precious Rolexes. He probably hadn’t spent much time at the house, anyway. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was looking for, but I did find plenty of booze; there were enough empty bottles to fill a skip.

  I’d just finished looking around the living room when someone tapped on the window. An old woman wagged a bony finger at me, and mouthed something about the police. I gestured to the back of the house, and then went through the kitchen to meet her at the door.

  “I’ve called the police,” she said. “They’ll be here in a minute.”

  “I have permission to be here.”

  “From who? Roy is dead.”

  “From his daughter, Anne. I’m Kat Royle. I used to work for Roy.”

  “Oh. That’s alright, then.”

  “I wish you’d talked to me before you called the police.”

  “I haven’t actually called them.” She grinned, and almost lost her top denture. “I only said that to scare you off. I’m Maureen but everyone calls me Mo.”

  “Do you live next door, Mo?”

  “Yeah, the house adjoining. Nasty business with Roy. He could be a funny bugger, but he didn’t deserve to go like that. I always figured he’d drink himself to death.”

  “He drank a lot, then?”

  “You must have seen the bottles. He wasn’t a lot of bother though. He kept himself to himself.”

  “What about visitors? Did he have many, do you know?”

  “Not many that I saw. Occasionally, he’d bring some guys back from the boozer, and they’d carry on drinking here. Thankfully, that didn’t happen too often.”

  “Did he have a local?”

  “The Feathers. It’s at the end of the road.”

  “What about lady friends?”

  “Roy? Nah, who’d want to go with him?” She seemed to catch herself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

  “That’s okay. I worked for Roy, but we weren’t what you might call close.”

  “Does that bloke with
the sideburns work with you, too?”

  “What bloke?”

  “He was here yesterday, sniffing around outside. He took off when he saw me.”

  “Whoever he is, he doesn’t work with me. Sideburns, you say?”

  “Yeah, big bushy ones.”

  “How old was he?”

  “I’m not very good with ages. Older than you, but not as old as Roy.”

  “Will you do me a favour, Mo? If you see him or anyone else around here, would you give me a call on this number?” I handed her my card. “If I’m not in, there should be someone to take a message.”

  “No problem. Come around for a cuppa later if you like.”

  “Thanks.”

  I found the experience of looking around Roy’s house quite depressing. Two out of the three bedrooms were full of old furniture and general junk. His bedroom hadn’t seen a vacuum cleaner or a duster for several years, and the bedsheets looked as though they hadn’t been changed for weeks if not months. On his bedside cabinet, there were two framed photographs, both of his daughter: One of Anne as a young child—maybe seven or eight years old, the other of her as an adult. Roy had never been one to talk about his personal life. Nor had he ever shown any interest in either mine or Sheila’s lives outside of work. His other Rolex watches were still inside the unlocked cabinet.

  Two hours later, despite having searched every nook and cranny, I’d found no clues that might lead me to his murderer. I hadn’t even found the accounts books.

  ***

  While I was in the area, I decided to check out the Feathers public house. It was unusual to find an old-fashioned boozer located on a housing estate these days. Most of them had been converted into mini-supermarkets run by one of the big three chains. If the number of customers inside today was typical, the Feathers’ days had to be numbered too.

  An elderly couple were seated at a table close to the fireplace. The woman was knitting; the man appeared to be asleep. On a stool at the bar was a middle-aged man, wearing a trilby and sucking on an electronic cigarette.

  “Hello, young lady.” The jolly grey giant behind the bar seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Perhaps he would have been just as pleased to see any customer come through the door. “What can I get for you?”

  “Just a cola, please.”

  “Diet?”

  “Nah, I’ll take it straight.”

  “Coming right up. Don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts before. Have you just moved to the area?”

  “No. I live in Lewford.”

  “Are you lost?” He grinned.

  “I used to work for Roy King who lived up the road. Did you know him?”

  The man in the trilby spoke for the first time, “Don’t mention Roy to Lenny. He was his best customer. This place will probably go broke now Roy’s gone.”

  “Watch your mouth, Terry. This lady is a friend of Roy’s.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “He was my boss, but we weren’t really friends.”

  Lenny handed me the cola. “Mind you, Terry’s right. “I don’t have many customers like Roy left. He’d come in here at six o’clock and plant himself over near the fire until throwing out time.”

  “What time is that?”

  “Officially eleven.” He grinned. “Unofficially, whenever I feel like it.”

  “I heard they reckon Roy was killed in a bungled burglary,” Terry said.

  “That’s what the police reckon.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “His daughter has asked me to investigate his death.”

  “Are you a P.I. too?”

  “Yeah. Did Roy have any problems with anyone that you know of?”

  The two men exchanged a glance that spoke volumes, and I thought for a moment they were about to clam up, but Lenny must have decided that I was worthy of his trust.

  “There’s this one guy called Ray West.”

  “Westy?”

  “You know him?”

  “Well enough for him to threaten me.”

  “He and Roy had a barney in here last week.”

  ***

  The sooner R.K. Investigations started generating cash, the better. Not only did I need to pay the rent, myself and Zero, but it would also mean I could use cabs to get around. At the moment, I was stuck with public transport. That meant a forty-minute journey on two tube trains and the DLR to get from Upney to Greenwich.

  It was time to reacquaint myself with Christine’s husband, Ralph. I hadn’t laid eyes on him since she and I had fallen out. Until she’d mentioned it, I’d had no idea that he was working only a mile down the road from where I now lived.

  I called Zero to tell him I wouldn’t be back in the office because I was going to take a look at BetMore, and then I’d go straight home from there. When he asked if I’d remembered to update TimeLogMaster, I lied and said that I had. That young man was a worse nag than my mother.

  BetMore was located on a side street, halfway between Greenwich and Lewford. Fortunately, there was a small tea room almost directly across the road from the betting shop, so I was able to sit down while keeping watch. The betting shop’s clientele was pretty much what you’d have expected: Ninety percent male—three-quarters of whom were over fifty.

  Ralph had been working in a betting shop in Purley when he and Christine had first got together. I wasn’t even sure if I’d still recognise him, but I needn’t have worried. My cup of tea was just starting to go cold when he stepped out of the shop. Apart from the additional pounds around his waist, and the higher hairline, he looked pretty much the same as the last time I’d seen him.

  He made a left towards the high street.

  I’d no way of knowing how long he’d be gone, but I decided to take my chances and have a look inside the shop. Why was it so dark in there? It’s not like they couldn’t afford the electricity. I’d only ever been in a betting shop once before, and that was with my dad when I was a kid. I would have been eight or nine at the time, and by rights, I shouldn’t have been allowed inside, but no one seemed to care. BetMore was certainly a step up from the Leeds betting shop of my childhood. Back then, the only seats were a few old wooden stools next to the ledges where the punters wrote out their betting slips. Today’s betting shop had armchairs, sofas and by the look of it, free tea and coffee.

  “Hi.” A young woman came out from behind the counter. “Are you okay?”

  “Err—yes, thanks.”

  “Do you need help with anything?”

  “I’m just here for the slot machines, thanks.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that Susan, the assistant manager according to her badge, had to be Ralph’s new love interest.

  “Okay.” She beamed. “Just give me a shout if you need anything. Do help yourself to a drink.”

  “Thanks.” I shoved a pound coin in the nearest slot machine, pressed the red button, and then started for the door.

  “Hold on, love!” A guy with a walking stick called after me. “You’ve won. You got four bells.”

  He was right; the coins began to clatter into the tray.

  “Typical!” A young man with a cigarette stub behind his ear, scowled at me. “I’ve put twenty quid in that thing.”

  “Sorry.” I collected my winnings, which according to the sticker on the front of the machine, was fifty quid for four bells.

  With my trouser pockets weighed down with coins, I struggled to the door. As I stepped outside, I spotted Ralph headed back towards the shop. Fortunately, he was so engrossed in his phone that he didn’t see me cross the road and walk away.

  I had planned on grabbing another microwave meal on my way home, but after my unexpected windfall, I decided to treat myself to the best that the Gerbil and Oyster had to offer.

  “Scampi and chips please, Kenny.”

  “I had a fella in here earlier asking after you.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know his name. Didn’t get chance to ask. I told him I
hadn’t seen you for a day or two. He asked where you lived.”

  “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “Course not. I’m not stupid.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “He had big bushy sideburns. You could definitely do better than him. What are you drinking?”

  “Give me a bottle of lager.” I handed him a handful of pound coins.

  “Have you been robbing the leccy meter?”

  “I’ve just won this on a slot machine.”

  “Didn’t know you played them. You should try ours. We’ve just had a new one delivered.”

  “It was a one-off. Where’s Billy?”

  “The Mrs has taken him to get his claws clipped.”

  Chapter 11

  The scampi and chips had gone down a treat, but I didn’t bother staying for a second drink because I had to call in at Suds to get my washing, which I should have collected the day before.

  “Sorry I didn’t make it yesterday, Elsie. Things went a bit crazy.”

  “No worries, Kat. It’s over there on the chair.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without this place.”

  “You might find out soon enough. The boss reckons he’ll have to shut shop if they put up the business rates again.”

  “Are they likely to do that?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “What will you do if this place closes?”

  “I’ve no idea. The launderette’s all I’ve ever known. Fifteen years here, and eight at Washrama before that.”

  “Where was that?”

  “In East Ham.”

  I hoped Suds wouldn’t close. Not only for Elsie’s sake, but because I didn’t want to have to fork out for a washing machine. I hated the idea of having to do my own washing again. I guess my mother was right all along: I really was a lazy so and so.

  As I walked past Walt’s house, I noticed there was a For Sale board outside. Someone had obviously been keen to get it on the market. Out of curiosity, I fired up the property app which I’d installed on my phone the last time I moved house. When I saw the asking price, I wished I hadn’t bothered; prices in this area were getting downright silly.