Night Watcher

by Chris Longmuir

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Harry said, rummaging in his pocket. He pressed a pound coin into the blue fingers that protruded from the rags. ‘Get yourself a cup of tea or something. It’ll heat you up.’

  The tramp nodded and, turning, he shambled off.

  Harry looked at the rest of his change, rattling it in his hand before he stuck it back in his pocket. Oh, well, he thought, that’s my packet of fags for today up the spout. Still, it won’t kill me and it’ll please Babs because she says I smoke too much. Sighing, he went through the door, releasing the hook holding it open, and let it slam shut.

  The warmth of the guardroom was welcome after the cold air outside. Harry risked putting the kettle on and plonked a teabag into the mug he took out of the cupboard on the wall. It was not much of a room, not like the Hollywood versions he had seen on the telly, where security guards sat in a posh room with a wall of computers so they could watch all parts of the building. He had to be satisfied with a sink, cupboard, hard chair and table. At least it was warm. But that was only because some of the heating pipes from the basement passed through this room before entering the complicated system of ducts and ventilation passageways winding tortuous routes through the upper floors of the building.

  He drank his tea quickly while he checked his notebook for outstanding jobs to be done. Then he started checking the casual security staff who patrolled the departments. They only started work when the store opened and they finished when it closed. But Harry, as the regular man, had a responsibility for checking the maintenance of the building and instructing the maintenance and cleaning staff.

  First things first, he thought, and depositing his cup in the sink he left the guardroom. Stopping at a door halfway along the corridor, he opened it and peered down the stone stairs into the murky depths of the lower basement.

  ‘You there, Neil?’ he shouted. He did not particularly want to go down the stairs because he was not familiar with the layout and feared he might lose himself among the conglomeration of pipes that, as far as he knew, stretched the entire length and breadth of the store. This was the domain of electricians, plumbers and odd job men, not security guards.

  A door slammed somewhere in the depths and he shouted again until he heard the shuffle of feet.

  ‘D’you not hear me shouting?’ Harry addressed the man in the oily dungarees who surfaced out of the gloom.

  ‘Sorry, boss. I was in the middle of something.’ The man who spoke was tall and thin with a slightly emaciated look about him. The ends of his lank brown hair clung to his neck and he blinked myopically as he looked up towards the stronger light in the corridor. He was not young and he was not old, in fact Harry had great difficulty trying to think what age he was for he could have been anything from his late twenties to late forties. He always meant to ask him, but only when the time was right and the time had never been right.

  ‘Okay,’ said Harry. He did not have any more time to waste because he should be going up into the store and he did not want to risk another ticking off. ‘Just wanted to check if you’d done anything about those scrabbling noises Ken reported hearing in the ventilation ducts on the top floor.’

  Neil stared up at him from his position at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Yeah, I did that earlier this morning. There were some droppings, could have been mice, but more likely rats, so I set some traps. Better tell Ken and the others not to go poking in the vents. Those traps are strong.’

  ‘Rats?’ Harry couldn’t prevent his voice from rising. That was another of the reasons he did not like the lower basement, he could not stand vermin of any kind.

  ‘Sure, rats.’ Neil stretched his mouth into a grin, ‘you know, those wee furry things. The store’s full of them, they wouldn’t need me otherwise. Don’t worry though they won’t come out when the store’s full of customers, believe it or not they’re shy wee blighters.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Harry muttered. ‘Well, keep an eye on it then. We don’t want to be overrun.’

  ‘Sure will boss. Sure will.’

  Harry closed the door to the lower basement and shuddered as he went up the corridor. He would be glad to get up into the hustle and bustle of the store even if he did have to face up to Nicole.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The restaurant at the rear of the food hall was functional, there to serve the busy shopper and housewife who daily examined the shelves for all the little luxuries that other grocers and food shops did not think profitable enough to keep. However, Julie encouraged the food hall buyer to invest in these non-profit making luxuries, for they were as much the loss leaders in the department store as cut prices were in other shops. Julie was a wise enough section head to understand that those who came to see what luxuries were on offer at reasonable prices would also wander through the rest of the store and be tempted to buy.

  Julie’s first port of call in the morning was always the restaurant. Despite its functional appearance – formica-topped tables and modern-looking plastic chairs, which were more comfortable than they looked – it did a good trade, mainly because Betty and her staff were excellent cooks.

  Julie had been sitting at one of the corner tables for ten minutes before Betty brought her coffee over. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I need that to get me going this morning.’ She took an appreciative sip of the hot liquid. There was no doubt about it, Betty made the best cup of coffee in Dundee. If anything could have kept Julie in Dundee after her task was completed it would have to be Betty’s coffee.

  ‘That smells good.’ Nicole slumped into the chair beside her.

  Julie started. She hadn’t heard her coming and it was important that Nicole should continue to believe Julie was her friend. If she did not stay alert, Julie thought, there was always the danger she might say or do something to give herself away and reveal her true feelings. As it was she suppressed the upsurge of antagonism to smile warmly at the woman she despised.

  Betty had suddenly found some urgent cleaning behind the servery and avoided looking at Nicole, but that did not prevent Nicole from shouting across the room. ‘Cup of coffee, if you don’t mind – and hurry because I’m desperate for it.’

  Betty straightened up and made a noise in the back of her throat that was halfway between a humph and a grunt, but she poured the coffee and brought it to the table.

  ‘I could swear that woman doesn’t like me,’ Nicole grinned at Julie. ‘Not that I care. Nobody ever likes the boss, do they?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, it’s just the way Betty is. She likes to get on with the work and doesn’t like to be delayed.’ Julie looked over Nicole’s shoulder and caught sight of Betty’s glare of disbelief. If Nicole had not been sitting beside her she would have laughed, but she didn’t dare.

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s a good thing somebody likes working.’ Nicole stirred her coffee. ‘I’ve just come from a session with Harry. Now there’s one useless, lazy lump of a man if ever I saw one. Give me half a chance and I’ll get rid of him.’

  ‘Harry’s not that bad,’ Julie murmured. ‘It’s just that he’s afraid of you and it always puts him at a disadvantage.’

  Nicole snorted. ‘You know your trouble, Julie? You’re too nice a person. You never speak ill of anybody.’

  Julie ignored the comment and smiled down at her coffee. That’s rich, she thought, coming from the one person I would gladly see in Hell, so it’s just as well you can’t read my thoughts Nicole, or you would shrivel up and die.

  She glanced over the rim of her cup. ‘You don’t look so good this morning. Is something wrong?’ Julie’s voice indicated nothing but concern.

  ‘Is it that obvious? God I’ll have to perk up before I meet with Patrick. I can’t let him see me under the weather.’

  ‘Hangover?’ The note of concern was still in Julie’s voice, but she hoped Nicole was suffering. ‘Maybe a hair of the dog might cure it. I’ve got a little something in my locker if you want it?’ Patrick would just love Nicole smelling of drink.

  ‘No, no. It�
�s not that. It’s just that I didn’t sleep well last night.’ Nicole lapsed into silence and both women sipped their coffee. ‘What with the wind and the prowler and all.’ Her voice had lost its usual confident tone and sounded strained.

  ‘Prowler?’ Julie couldn’t help feeling curious.

  ‘I thought I saw someone outside my window last night, but Scott says I just imagined it.’

  ‘And did you? Imagine it, that is?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ A faraway look appeared in Nicole’s eyes. ‘It seemed real enough last night.’

  ‘What did he look like?’ Julie had trouble catching her breath. This was more than she had hoped for, a real live prowler whether or not it was in Nicole’s imagination. She could build on that. Use it to destroy her.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see him.’

  ‘What d’you mean you didn’t see him? How did you know he was there if you didn’t see him?’ Julie almost stuttered in her excitement.

  ‘Well he was like a shadow. Only his shadow was deeper than all the others and it moved when it shouldn’t have.’ Nicole shuddered. ‘He was there. I know he was there, but Scott wouldn’t believe me.’

  ‘Mmh,’ Julie kept her voice calm. ‘Did Scott do anything about it? Apart from ridiculing you, that is.’

  ‘He went outside and looked, but he said there was nothing there and that I must have imagined it. He accused me of being paranoid.’ Nicole sounded breathless and panicky.

  Better and better, thought Julie. ‘That’s interesting,’ she said.

  ‘What d’you mean, interesting?’ Nicole’s forehead creased into a frown as if she was having difficulty understanding.

  ‘Well,’ Julie said, ‘if you look at it logically it seems odd.’

  ‘You mean you think I’m paranoid too? Well thanks a lot.’ Nicole started to stand up.

  Julie put a hand on her arm. ‘No, hear me out. It’s odd because you say you live in a house that’s secure and that your grounds are almost impregnable to intruders, and yet Scott saw nothing. Doesn’t that suggest something to you?’

  Nicole relaxed back into her seat. ‘What d’you mean?’ she whispered.

  ‘Well,’ Julie was enjoying herself. ‘Someone must have let him into the grounds and if it wasn’t you who could it have been?’

  ‘Scott,’ Nicole breathed.

  ‘Snap. Take it a bit further. Scott went out to look and found nobody, yet you’re convinced there was someone there. So why did Scott not see him?’

  ‘Because he didn’t want to see him?’

  ‘You’ve got it, Nicole.’

  ‘But why would Scott do that?’ There was genuine puzzlement in Nicole’s voice.

  ‘Think about it, Nicole. Scott’s away from home a lot, isn’t he?’

  Nicole nodded.

  ‘Maybe he’s got an interest somewhere on his travels.’ Julie watched the understanding creep over Nicole’s face. It had taken her a while to latch on to what Julie was suggesting, but she was getting there.

  ‘You don’t think? Oh, it’s not possible . . . Scott would never . . .’

  ‘Wouldn’t he? He’s a man isn’t he?’

  Anger twisted Nicole’s face. ‘If that’s his game he needn’t think I’ll give him a divorce. I’ve invested too much in this marriage, I’m not going to give up now.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why you’ve got an intruder then.’ Julie sat back and waited for the penny to drop. It did not take long.

  ‘Well if he thinks he’s going to put a private detective on to me to catch me out, he’s got another think coming.’ She hesitated, as another thought seemed to strike her. ‘Or, if he’s out to frighten me because of some sick game he’s playing, that’s not going to work either.’ And with that, Nicole picked up her briefcase and handbag, and left the restaurant without a goodbye or a backward look, which was just as well or she would have seen Julie’s smile of satisfaction.

  Stupid bitch, Julie thought, I hope that has given her plenty to think about. She turned back to her coffee and drained the last of it before going up to the servery and saying to Betty, ‘Well, I think I deserve another coffee after that session.’

  ‘Sure, Julie. I’ll get it for you.’ Betty turned and poured it. ‘What’s up her hump then?’ she said as she handed it over. ‘I’ve never seen her in such a state before.’

  ‘Nothing of any importance, Betty. I don’t think we need to bother about Nicole for just now.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  How dare Scott try to frighten her! Nicole was not convinced with Julie’s theory that she was being watched to provide evidence for a divorce. But she did know that Scott was capable of playing games. After all, he had plenty of practice in games playing and devising new games for development by his software company. But if this was a game, it was a sick one.

  She stormed to the lift. The lift wasn’t there, and that made her even angrier. She stabbed her finger onto the button while in her mind she swore at Scott. If he had been here she would have torn his eyes out. But he was not here which was just as well because it would give her time to calm down, although if that bloody lift did not hurry up there was little hope of that.

  She pummelled the lift doors with her free hand swinging her briefcase with the other as if she intended using it as a weapon. It made little difference and the doors remained closed, blocking her progress, while she fumed in front of them. Eventually, when the lift doors slid open they did so with a suddenness that took her unawares and she almost fell inside. Gathering herself together she inserted her pass key for the top floor, waiting until the doors slid shut before practising the deep breathing exercises that were supposed to help with her stress levels.

  Struggling to regain control she forced herself to think about Scott in a more rational way and decided she would play it cool and look for a way to turn the tables on him. She smiled. It was a smile that did not reach her eyes. If he wanted to play dirty she was a past master at the art and she would easily get the better of him.

  Nicole, once more the model of the perfect manager, smart, professional and controlled, left the lift on the top floor. This was where the unseen business of the store was carried on. It housed the accountants and other finance staff, a couple of public relations officers and a legal adviser. Through a set of glass doors, towards which Nicole was heading, were the conference rooms, the boardroom and the executive offices. Only the Managing Director and Assistant Managing Directors had offices beyond these doors.

  She paused in front of her own office and looked with pride at her name on the door – Nicole Ralston, Assistant Managing Director – she had come a long way since she started work in the store as a shop assistant. Patrick was to be thanked for that. Once he spotted her potential she had been on her way up and she had made the most of her opportunities. Of course, he no longer wanted her in the way he previously had, although there was still the odd occasion. However, he had grown to rely on her ability and expertise. She wondered briefly whether he knew about her and Ken, but then shrugged the thought away. Patrick spent more time in some of his other stores nowadays and was not here often enough to be fully aware of what was going on . . . and yet . . . he was sharp.

  A slight whisper of air touched the back of her neck and she knew she was no longer alone in the corridor, but before she could turn to look, Ken grasped her shoulder, pushed aside her hair and kissed her on the nape of her neck.

  ‘Not here,’ she muttered, pushing him away. ‘Patrick’s due today and I don’t think he’d approve.’

  He stroked her neck with a single finger while his soft brown eyes reflected a mute plea and his face developed that little boy lost look that always succeeded in making her insides churn.

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper while ghostly fingers crawled over her skin making her shiver with desire. She could see from his face that he knew the effect he was having on her.

  He pushed her office door open, guiding her through it. ‘Is this
any better?’ His voice deepened with a husky quality that told her he wanted her.

  She pushed the door with her foot until she heard it click shut. ‘Not really,’ she whispered as she turned towards him. Her arms circled his neck and she teased her fingers up through his hair, perfectly aware of the effect it would have on him. ‘Patrick’s just as liable to come in here when he arrives and he’d go berserk if he caught us. You know he would.’

  ‘I don’t know anything of the sort.’ Ken slipped his hands inside her jacket and pulled her blouse out of the top of her skirt.

  His hands caressed her skin. Her nerve ends tingled with a need she didn’t quite understand and she had difficulty suppressing the scream rising within her. Sex with Ken was always frantic and noisy, and she knew that although she wanted him it was too risky with Patrick due at any moment. She pulled away from him, ‘No, you mustn’t. Not here. Not now.’ She tucked her blouse back into the top of her skirt. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  Ken pouted, his face even more like a child’s. ‘It’s not fair, you always do this to me.’

  Nicole stretched out a hand and stroked his face. ‘Later,’ she promised. ‘Now you must go to your own office. You don’t want Patrick seeing you like that.’ Ken left the room, but Nicole knew he was not pleased. She would make it up to him after and she knew just how to do that.

  Sighing, she picked up her briefcase from the floor where it had fallen when she had put her arms round Ken. She threw it on the desk, snapped the locks open and pulled out the papers she had tried to work on last night. She sank back into her leather upholstered chair and attempted to concentrate, but it was hopeless.

  She stood up and stretched, raising her arms above her head in an attempt to loosen her muscles and get rid of tension. Then she paced across the room and round her desk, stopping to look out of the window. She had a good view of the City Churches and the Overgate Centre. Patrick was worried about the Centre, a swish shopping mall, afraid it would take away too much business. That was why he wanted them to formulate trading plans. The trading plans Nicole could not get her mind to concentrate on.