IN THE SHADOW OF STRANGERS: A wealthy man is about to change her destiny …but it’s a secret.

by Wendy Reakes

  “What makes you so sure?” Jack wanted to shake his friend out of the crazy mood he was in.

  “I’ve been watching her for long enough, Jack. I know her.”

  “You can’t know it all, Gordon,” Jack said.

  “Well maybe not. But I know this, Jack my boy. If it wasn’t for me, the Killa girl wouldn’t be standing next to that grave today as Ben Corner’s widow and I’m going to have that on my conscience for the rest of my life.”

  Gordon slotted his seat belt into the buckle and as Jack pulled the car away from under the elm, he looked out of the window and saw Frank Warner raise his hand and wave.

  Chapter 58

  Marjorie and Katherine sipped from a glass of wine at a lone table for two in Kathy’s. They were still in our clothes from the funeral, and they dined alone, quietly pensive. Her loyal friend, Fe passed by their table, saying nothing. She just looked to see if they had enough to eat and drink and then walked on past, leaving them in peace.

  “I don’t know what I would have done these past two weeks without her,” she said to Marjorie. They both watched Fe as she took an order on her pad from the diners around table eight. “The Savoy has given her leave to help me out. Can you believe that, Marjorie? The Savoy loaning me staff.” She smiled as she considered the irony of it. She moved her food around her plate, remembering the days she worked at the Savoy and when she first met Ben. “Peter Blue left a big gap here with his indiscretions,” she whispered.

  It was true. With everything happening around her, she’d been unable to give time to the restaurant as she should have. When she heard the news about Ben, and about the bomb, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything other than that. Fe had offered to step into Peter Blue’s shoes, to run Kathy’s while she was absent. Plus, she had to put the launch of the Coach on temporary hold. She’d told Alfred to slow down with the renovation and to reschedule the opening for August the first. It was a blow to all of them, especially Nick White and his wife Susan, who were anxious to get the place up and running. “I’m sorry,” she’d said. “I have to be there when we put the finishing touches in and I can’t come until I get everything else sorted here.” They understood, of course, and in the meantime they soldiered on. She had already planned to give them a bonus at the end of the month to keep their morale up.

  The day after the blast in Covent Garden, the police contacted her at Lance and Marjorie’s house in Didsbury. They wanted her to go down to London to make a statement and to identify Ben’s body. She refused. She was unable to do that and she told them so. Instead, Ben’s mother went with Frank Warner, and it was they who confirmed it was in fact Ben’s body lying in the morgue that day. Yvonne telephoned her straight after. “I’m glad you didn’t have to see him, love; he was in such a mess, I hardly recognised him. I was grateful Frank was with me. He was so supportive…My baby boy!” she wailed down the phone. Katherine hung up, unable to bear any more.

  Marjorie drove her down to London the day after. Her interview with the police leading the enquiry had been set for the afternoon and so they arrived at Charing Cross police station in Agar Street at midday. She wrote her statement alone in a room with just a policewoman at her side. She kept her thoughts together while she related the facts as she remembered them, forcing herself not to cry as she penned the words. After losing Annie, it was the worst thing she had ever experienced. It was too much, too hard to bear.

  Later, Detective Inspector Brian Watts sat with her in the same interview room. Even though Marjorie was at her side, the walls around her, white and stark, were stifling. Her nerves were torn to shreds.

  “Are you implying this was a deliberate act against your husband, Mrs. Corner? Um, sorry,” he said, “Ms Killa.”

  “Yes, I am. If you check with the police in Ealing, they’ll tell you that my manager was brutally killed only three nights before.” She looked down at the sheet of paper he was scribbling on. “His name was Peter Blue and he was involved in some sort of racket to do with wine deliveries to my restaurant.”

  The Detective Inspector left the room. She recalled drumming her fingers on the table in front of her, not realising she was doing it until Marjorie placed her hand over hers.

  “Peter Blue,” the Inspector said, when he came back in. He was browsing through a file, reading the papers inside, “Killed with a knife wound to the chest. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” she said in a whisper. “And then his body was dumped on my door step….” She looked straight into the eyes of the inspector. “You already knew all this didn’t you?” It suddenly occurred to her that he couldn’t have put together a file so quickly. It would have to have been already transferred from Ealing. Someone had already assumed that there was a connection with Ben.

  She sat upright in her chair and took hold of Marjorie’s hand. “You know something!” She was suddenly relieved that she wouldn’t have to try and convince them that the bomb at the restaurant wasn’t a terrorist attack. ‘Convince them’ because she was absolutely positive it wasn’t.

  “We have our suspicions that the bomb was planted by someone who had a personal vendetta against your husband, yes. The bomb was wired into the alarm system. It’s a clever device. The victim actually inputted his own activation code.” She thought the Detective Inspector looked impressed with the technique. “The IRA claimed responsibility initially,” he continued, “but we’re not convinced it’s theirs. It’s not their style.”

  “But a personal vendetta?” she asked. “You mean someone who was connected with Peter Blue wanted my husband killed?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not quite as simple as that,” Detective Inspector Watts said.

  “It’s not simple at all, Detective Watts. Not to me anyway. I don’t know what I’m thinking any more. This isn’t something I’m accustomed to being involved in.”

  “Involved?”

  She looked straight into his eyes, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Don’t, for a minute think I have anything to do with this, Detective Inspector. I would have trouble stealing bubble gum from a child, let alone blowing my husband to bits in the middle of Covent Garden.” She wanted to get up and walk out the room. She was losing her mind.

  Marjorie held onto her with her arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you let the Inspector explain, dear?” Marjorie said. She wanted to cry, but she also felt like she had no tears left.

  Inspector Watts continued. “We have our suspicions that your husband was directly involved in the wine deliveries to your restaurant,” he said, glancing down at his sheet, unable to look at her. “It’s really the only connection we can see at this time.”

  “Ben! Involved with the whole wine thing?” She was astounded by the suggestion. “That’s preposterous. He was as surprised as I was when we found out about the wine being delivered to Kathy’s. He did everything he could to persuade me that he would take care of it, he said…” She trembled as the words left her mouth. The look on the Inspector’s face spoke more than his own words could say. ‘I deal with this sort of thing all the time at The Corner. I’ll take care of it,’ Ben had said. She went cold when the realisation hit her that Ben could actually have used Kathy’s to illegally administer lorry loads of wine.

  “Are you familiar with the name Paddy Johnson?” Detective Inspector Watts asked, as she tried collecting her thoughts.

  “Yes, he’s my accountant.”

  Detective Inspector Watts read from the sheet. “Real name Patrick Johnson, known as Paddy sleight Johnson in the business. I believe the name refers to his sleight of hand when administrating VAT reports and tax claims,” the sergeant said, smiling.

  Her heart missed a beat when she remembered Ben persuading her two-years ago to change her accountant. 'Paddy Johnson’s a good chap,' Ben had said. 'He’ll save you a packet in VAT charges.'

  “It seems that Paddy has taken a sudden trip out of town. We’re not sure where, at this time.” The Inspector smiled and sat back in his chair, appear
ing to enjoy divulging all this bad news to her; enjoying her discomfort as she began to piece all the evidence together.

  Then something occurred to her. “Wait! What about the alarm code? Nobody else knew the code besides Ben. If he tapped in his own sequence wouldn’t whoever set the bomb have to know it too?”

  “Not necessarily. The bomb could have been triggered by one single number. The chances are one of those numbers activated it.”

  “But, there were only two digits. 69, 69, 69.” Seeing the detective's eyes bore into hers, she said, “Ben had a warped sense of humour...So if the killer was hoping to strike lucky with one number, the odds would be pretty slim.”

  “Unless it was the enter button,” the Inspector replied condescendingly. He leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “So, you knew the sequence?”

  She leaned forward toward him, to let him know she wouldn’t be intimidated. She was getting fed up with the man’s underhand accusations. “Don’t start. Do I look like I know how to plant a bomb?” She could have sworn she saw him nearly smile.

  He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Did your husband have any partners in the restaurant?”

  “No, he was the sole owner.”

  “What about Peter Blue? Your husband obviously knew him well enough if they were operating some scam together.”

  She guarded her eyes. She’d thought the same herself. “I don’t know. I didn’t think they knew each other that well. Ben just used to pass the time of day with him when he was at Kathy’s, that’s all.”

  “What about family?”

  She grabbed Marjorie’s hand. “Ben discovered two years ago that he was related to the Willington’s.” She gazed at Marjorie. She had already explained her connection to Ben. “He had a mother, Yvonne, and a stepfather, Frank Warner, but I can’t tell you much about them since we’ve only recently met. As far as I know they had no association with The Corner,” she said, “or for that matter, Kathy’s,” she added hurriedly. God forbid!

  “Except, Frank Warner once owned the building.”

  She was stunned. “I didn’t know.” She stopped for a moment, to think back to when she first bought the lease on the restaurant. But of course, it was a café before she had it, so that made sense. “Oh no, please don’t tell me Frank Warner is my landlord?”

  Detective Inspector Watts glanced down at the sheet in front of him. “No, we checked…”

  “You checked?” She felt her eyebrows, raised to their limit.

  He looked at her. “Yes, we checked. It’s owned by a company called Bentley Enterprises PLC. Based in Swansea.”

  “Swansea?”

  “Yes, Swansea.”

  Chapter 59

  Detective Inspector Watts pulled out a statement from under the sheet he’d been reading from. He glanced at the signature: Frank Warner, it said, dated the previous day when he came in to make his own personal statement. He had been very helpful and gave them all their leads. He said he believed Paddy Johnson was the same accountant that Ben used at the Corner, but he, Frank Warner, couldn’t be absolutely sure, because the restaurant belonged to his stepson, and he, Frank Warner, had nothing to do with the business other than dining at it once a fortnight. “I thought he was doing well,” Frank Warner had said. “We, Benjamin’s mother and I, are devastated by the whole messy affair. Why he would want to jeopardise his business with illegal practices is beyond us,” he, Frank Warner said.

  After Detective Inspector Watts showed the Killa girl and her companion the door, he’d told her to call him if she could think of anything else that could help them with their enquiries. He watched her leave. He was smiling to himself. Guilty as sin, he thought…

  …that Frank Warner.

  His office phone rang. “Jack Taylor is here.”

  Jack and Brian Watts sit with a plastic cup in their hands. The whiskey had been taken from the filing cabinet at the side of his desk. He told Jack his team had given it to him at Christmas. “The victim’s widow, Ms. Killa,” Brian said, “thinks you’re involved in the wine deliveries to her restaurant.”

  Jack frowned as Brian Watts grinned watching Jack’s reaction. “Why does she think that?”

  “The day you set up the delivery to see if she was involved…she said you sounded, and I quote, ‘funny’, on the phone.”

  Jack thought about the conversation he’d had with Katherine that day and the sound of her voice. “Well, I can understand that, I suppose.”

  “It’s just as well you warned us when you did; we might have come after you, Jack.”

  “It’s just as well they put you on the case and not that DC I talked to that Saturday.”

  “Well, it’s true, he’s a plonker, what can I say?” Brian Watts laughed. “So how’s our mate Gordon? I haven’t seen him down the pub lately.”

  “Yeah, he’s all right. Organising everyone’s life, as usual. So, come on tell me what you want. How was the Killa girl?”

  “Nice girl, a bit green, but nice. Put her through the mill a bit. But you know me. I just love seeing my suspects squirm.”

  “Except she’s not a suspect,” Jack said. “Is she?” He drained his cup.

  “Huh! The Killa girl! Nah, not her! So tell me, Jack, how do you know her, mate?”

  “I don’t really. At least she doesn’t know me…It’s complicated, I know her through someone else.”

  “You’ve got a shine for her then!”

  “Nah! of course not! Brian, get on with it, mate. You’re supposed to be on official business aren’t you?”

  “Okay, here’s the thing,” he said, crunching his cup in his hand and tossing it into the bin at the side of the desk. “We think Ben Corner and Peter Blue were involved with the wine deliveries, but we believe it’s more likely someone else holding the reins. When you set the delivery up with your driver and the Killa girl found out someone had been peddling wine through her restaurant, the deal was off. Someone panicked, murdered Peter Blue as a warning to Ben Corner to keep his mouth shut, and then murdered Corner by putting a bomb under him. We also suspect they were banking on the Killa girl being with him. Apparently the couple shared their time between the two flats above the restaurants, Kathy’s and the Corner.”

  Jack forced the image of them in bed together out of his head. It wasn’t his business.

  Brian went on. “The thing is this though…if it’s serious enough that murder is involved, serious enough to allow an explosion in central London, it means this whole wine deal is bigger than we first thought.” He stared seriously at Jack. “Huge, in fact.”

  Jack took hold of his pen and clutched it in his hand. “Does that mean Katherine Killa is in danger?”

  “We don’t think so. As far as the perpetrator’s concerned, things have died down and he knows that the Killa girl doesn’t know anything.”

  “How could he know that?” Jack thought about Katherine, how she was coping with it all. In fact, he’d been thinking a lot about her recently. Penny had been living most of the week in Italy and most weekends. Jack knew it was just a matter of time before they ended it.

  “Because he knows her, he’s related to her in fact. In a way!” Brian said.

  “What? Who?”

  “Ben Corner’s stepfather, Frank Warner.”

  Warner! Jack tried to piece things together. He remembered meeting Frank Warner in Gordon’s office when Gordon had planned to buy the café off him for Katherine. But she already knew Ben then. It was one of the reasons Gordon wanted her to take the restaurant, to get Ben Corner out of her life. Frank Warner had made no reference to his association with Ben…but then why would he? He didn’t know Gordon was going to give the restaurant to Katherine. Jesus, it could all have been just a case of ‘the wrong place, wrong time’. “How do you know it’s him?” Jack asked.

  “He came in and gave a statement. He gave us some very handy leads.” D.I Watts tapped his head with his forefinger. “You don’t spend thirty-years in the business without kno
wing when to smell a rat. We also got a tip off from the Killa girl’s accountant. He told us Warner was our man. Paddy Johnson was told to ‘get out of town’ by Warner in no uncertain terms. Then, after Ben Corner was killed, Warner and his men ransacked Paddy’s office and all his private files. From there, Frank Warner found out about ‘sleights’ own little racket, namely Paddy’s own little side-line of skimming cash off Frank’s books and putting it into his own account. Paddy knew his time was up if Warner caught up with him, so he needed to get Warner put away to keep the heat off. That’s why he rang us, albeit it was from a payphone in Marbella.” Brian Watts brushed a piece of fluff off his black trousers. “He told us Warner set up the wine shipments to Kathy’s in Ealing, and that he was laundering money through his stepson's restaurant in Covent Garden.”

  “So why haven’t you arrested him?” Jack asked.

  “The part Paddy wouldn’t divulge is who Warner sold the wine to. Nor would he agree to come back and testify if we were to arrest Warner on suspicion. Naturally Paddy would be implicated. So, without a key witness, we’re pretty sure Warner would get off. He’s a resourceful man, Jack and with no previous.” Watts shook his head. “Can you believe it, Jack? The man’s been a walking time bomb for most of his life and he’s covered every angle. He’s never even been investigated for VAT fraud. I’ve got my people looking into some closed files in South London from a few years back. See if there’s anything we can pin on Warner. But until then…” his voice trailed off. He turned to look at Jack. “We need to nail him. Uncover his tracks. Set him up! And that’s what I need you for.”

  “Me? How?”

  “I’ve got zilch proof, Jack, and I want you to get me some,” he said with a wink.

  Chapter 60

  “Tricia darling,”Yvonne Warner said on the telephone. “I’m having some boxes and sheets of tissue paper delivered to the salon today. They’re for the flat upstairs, in case you were wondering.”