by Carol Wyer
‘We played tennis together last summer when she first moved to Brocton. She’s a lovely lady. We went to Lichfield Garrick a couple of times too. I sometimes get free tickets for various plays and Dario isn’t a fan of the theatre. Lauren was good company.’
‘Did either of you talk to Henry or Lauren about this lottery win?’
Pelligrini shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. Client confidentiality is everything in this profession. We wouldn’t want to lose clients through loose tongues, would we, Ailsa?’
She gave a tight smile, her red lipstick standing out against the white of her porcelain complexion, and shook her head.
Robyn imagined he’d charged the team handsomely for all his work, and his accounts would reveal exactly how much. She struggled to believe Dario Pelligrini was behind the murders. Outside the offices, she’d spotted a Bentley convertible with a private number plate that clearly belonged to him, and judging by his attire – the pure wool, bespoke suit, polished leather shoes and Patek Philippe watch – he had no need to get his hands on the jackpot money. Nevertheless, she had to ask the question.
‘May I ask how much you and your wife earn per annum?’
‘That’s a leading question.’
‘But one I’d like answered. It’d be much easier than me demanding to see your books.’
‘Fair enough. I have nothing to hide. We each take an annual salary in excess of a hundred thousand a year. We also own shares in the business, and annual pension contributions of approximately seventy thousand per annum are paid into each of our accounts. It’s a lucrative occupation if you have sufficient numbers of the right sort of client. We make most of our money from annual commissions, and they mount up over the years. Last year, the business turned over four million. You can always talk to our accountant if you require further details.’ His voice had retained its easy tone but his eyes had turned icy cold.
‘And finally, I’d like to ask you about your movements, Mr Pelligrini. We have to establish where you were on Tuesday the fourteenth of February.’
‘Rome. Stayed at the Rome Cavalieri. You can call the concierge there – Fabio. He’ll attest to that. He knows us well. We always stay there when we’re in Rome. And we ate at their three-star Michelin restaurant that night if that helps with your enquiries. We were there until Sunday. Thought we’d make it a romantic mini-break. Caught the afternoon flight back.’ He glanced at his watch, and his eyebrows rose as if to signal the end of the conversation.
Robyn stomped back downstairs. Although she couldn’t place either of the Pelligrinis at two of the crime scenes, she might have established a connection between Henry Gregson and the lottery win. Whereas Dario had been adamant he would never have spoken about the lottery winners to anyone, Ailsa had remained silent on the subject. It was possible she’d let it slip to Lauren.
‘I’m in the wrong job,’ mumbled David as they left the building. ‘That’s an obscene amount of money to earn.’
Robyn thought about Pelligrini’s smug expression when he’d divulged how much money he had earned. He’d been very self-satisfied. ‘You’re in the right job, David. We both are. We’re going back to the station via Brocton. I want a quick word with Lauren. I suspect Ailsa might have told her about the lottery win.’
As they pulled away, her phone lit up with a text message from her cousin Ross:
My investigations aren’t turning up any answers yet. Hope you are having more luck than me.
She gave a half-smile. Ross hadn’t mentioned Davies by name. Her cousin was a very cautious man and believed all messages could be hacked or read. She replied and then deleted the texts as he’d taught her. She was lucky to have Ross on her side.
Forty-Nine
THEN
* * *
He can’t believe what he’s seeing. Sid is lying on the floor, his face scrunched up in pain. He’s been taking pills for a heart condition for a while, and at first, he thinks Sid’s had a heart attack, until he sees the gun. He looks from the gun to the man holding it, a man he knows all too well.
‘Johnny, what the fuck are you doing?’
Johnny waves the gun at him. ‘Shut up. Stay back. Sid here was about to speak, weren’t you, Sid.’
He looks from Johnny to Sid and then to Kayley. Bile rises in his throat.
‘Kayley?’ he whispers, shaking his head to clear it.
Her face is impassive. The northern accent he found attractive has vanished. ‘That’s not my real name.’ Her words make no sense. This is Kayley Frost. He’s shared her life with her for almost two months. He knows all about her: her family back in Wigan, her childhood, her schooldays, her love for sports even back then, and her current job as a researcher for a local radio station. They’ve been looking at flats to rent together. What’s going on? None of this makes any sense to him.
Johnny speaks up. ‘Tell us, old man, or I’ll put a bullet in you.’
Sid lifts a weary head. His face is the colour of putty. His thin hair is damp with perspiration and lifting his head seems to be too much effort for him. ‘Go ahead. I’ve nothing to live for. My God will look after me.’
Johnny lets out a growl and kicks Sid, who grimaces but doesn’t cry out.
He shouts, ‘Leave him alone. He’s sick. He doesn’t deserve this. What do you want?’
‘The combination to the safe, you dumb prick. If only you’d just been sensible and told Kayley what it was when she tried to prise it out of you, we could have avoided all this unpleasantness. She’s been trying to get you to tell her for weeks.’ Johnny’s face is a mask of contempt.
Kayley cocks her head and a sarcastic smile plays across her mouth.
Suddenly it all falls into place. That was why she asked if he had any special birthdays or sequences of numbers he liked. She told him she always used her birth date and year for any numeric code. He’d thought it a little strange at the time but didn’t deliberate. Now it makes sense. She’d been asking him all sorts of questions about being a bookie: how much the shop takes on average in a week, about the most popular and best fixtures to bet on, and what happens to all the money they take from punters. His heart weighs as heavy as a stone. He’s been an utter idiot and told her everything, from which days the security van collects the winnings to how much today’s takings were likely to be. The glut of spread betting on cricket fixtures recently had meant they’d been raking in money. And that explains why he couldn’t find his keys to the shop the week before. It was Kayley who retrieved them from behind a cushion on the settee the following evening. She must have stolen them and made a copy, and that’s how they’ve got into the betting shop’s back room. It dawns on him with such ferocity it almost winds him.
Kayley has never been interested in him. He’s a victim of a hustle and she’s gradually been pumping him for information about the bookmaker’s so she and Johnny could rob it. What a bloody fool he’s been.
She knew Sid was working alone at the shop this evening. He shouldn’t be there. It had been a last-minute decision, made on the way to the pub, to drop into the betting shop and chat to Sid once he closed up. Sid always hung back half an hour after closing time to make sure it was all tidy for the next day. He was going to ask Sid for a loan for a deposit on a flat he’d seen – a surprise for Kayley. Johnny and Kayley hadn’t been expecting him to appear, but had taken his sudden arrival in their stride.
He has no more time to consider what’s happening. Johnny is staring at him. ‘Combination or he gets it,’ he growls, pointing the gun at Sid.
‘Don’t tell them, son,’ says Sid. ‘I’m too old to worry about death.’
Son? True. Sid’s been more like a father to him than his own father, who’s now buried in a local cemetery. He can’t let anything happen to Sid. Sid’s been good to him. Trusted him. Given him a chance to become someone and make an honest living. Without Sid, he might have chosen the wrong path and ended up heaven knows where. He won’t let anything happen to his boss and mentor.
‘Twelve, zero, ten, nineteen, eight, six.’
‘That’s more like it,’ says Johnny with satisfaction. ‘Kayley?’
He takes in the thin rubber gloves. She’s been part of this all along. Kayley and Johnny. How long had they been planning this together? Her sudden appearance at the bookies, her bet on Swain, Johnny turning up soon after – it had been no coincidence. And what about his sister? Johnny has played them both for fools.
She doesn’t open the safe. Instead, she shakes her head. ‘Make him do it.’
Johnny ponders the idea and smirks. ‘Yeah, why not? Go on! Open the safe, Bookie Boy, or you know what will happen.’
He glowers at Johnny, tempted to smack him in the face as he eases past him, but knowing any sudden movement will result in Sid’s death. Kayley gives him a blank stare, devoid of any affection. Sid lets out another groan and he hastens to the safe, punches in the code and the door springs open with a click. Johnny pushes him to one side with the butt of the gun. For a millisecond he considers wrenching the weapon away from Johnny, but Kayley is watching him, with those cool, white-grey eyes that he’d once found bewitching. He wonders if they’re contact lenses, fake like her hair colour and her.
Johnny grabs some of the notes neatly piled on shelves. He makes a honking noise. ‘Looky here! We’re rich, babe.’
A small smile tugs at her lips. ‘It’ll do to start with.’
Johnny puts an arm around her waist, yanks her towards him and kisses her full on the lips.
His veins fizz with anger. How could she do this? He’s about to challenge them both when a small sound like air escaping from a tyre stops him. He races across to Sid, whose eyes have shut. It’s too late to save him. Sid’s had a massive heart attack. Johnny stops shoving notes into his sports bag and looks over.
‘Oh crap. The old bugger’s died. We’ll have to get a move on, sugar. Don’t want to be had up for murder.’
Kayley shrugs. ‘We didn’t kill him.’
He cries out. ‘Of course you did! You frightened him to death.’
Then Kayley laughs – a sound that chills him. ‘Course we didn’t. We weren’t here. There’s nothing to prove we were here. There’s been no break-in, and the CCTV camera in here was switched off – thanks for telling me how they worked.’ She laughs again. ‘There’s nothing to prove we’ve been here but there’s lots to prove you have. The police will take you in. You’ve got a bit of a reputation for being a bad boy anyway, haven’t you? I’m sure they’ll think you nicked the money from the safe and poor old Sid caught you in the act. Your fingerprints are everywhere. Ours aren’t.’
Johnny checks the now empty safe. ‘Right, babe. Let’s go.’ He hoists the bag on his shoulder. ‘Be seeing you,’ he says with a grin.
‘Not if I see you first,’ he growls.
Johnny halts and bears his teeth. ‘You think you’re so bloody clever, don’t you? You and your sister. What a slag she is. She couldn’t wait to be laid.’
A guttural sound begins in his throat and he launches towards Johnny, who points the gun at him. ‘Go on. Want some of this, do you?’ He waves the shooter at him and he backs down, nostrils opening and closing repeatedly.
‘You want to know why I set you up? Because you thought you were cleverer than me. You thought you could take over my nice little drug business. It might have been a few years ago, but I haven’t forgotten that you stabbed me in the back. You were supposed to be my mate, but you dumped me. And while I was taken into the nick and grilled by the copper, all the time keeping quiet about your involvement in it all, you and your sister were muscling in on my business. You made a laughing stock of me, you know? Wrecked my street cred with the main men. I had to start all over again. Try something new. Bit of hustling. Found myself a partner I can trust this time,’ he said, nodding in Kayley’s direction.
‘I don’t forget disloyalty. I looked after you back then. Made sure you had money. Thought I’d befriend you. What a mistake that was. I don’t take shit from anyone these days. I’ve been sorting myself out and biding my time. I had a few accounts to settle. Yours was one of them. It’s been a laugh. You’re such a wimp these days. Look at you! Strutting about in your shiny suit, talking crap about fixtures and odds, pretending you’re an honest bloke. You’re pathetic! Anyway, looks like you’ll have to find a new job now.’ He nodded across at Sid. ‘So, cheerio. Been nice to catch up with you. Got to run. Don’t bother trying to grass us up. We’ll be well gone by the time you contact the police, and I’d keep quiet about the missing money if I were you. This looks like an inside job – no break-in, you see?’ He holds up a back door key. ‘She’s right. You’ll be their prime suspect. Adios, dumb ass.’
Johnny elbows the door open and Kayley slips through it. He turns back and speaks once more. ‘And in case that isn’t enough reason for you to keep your trap shut, let me warn you: if you mention me or Kayley to the cops, I’ll kill your little sister.’ He points the gun at him. ‘Bang! Just like that. Comprendez?’ Johnny nods to himself before disappearing through the side door into the alley behind.
He slides to the floor next to the man who’d put his faith in him. The man who’d handed him the back door keys to his shop, and who’d treated him better than anyone else ever had. He lifts Sid’s hand in his own and blinks back tears.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers. ‘So, so sorry.’
Fifty
DAY NINE – WEDNESDAY, 22 FEBRUARY, AFTERNOON
* * *
Lauren was alone, unwashed hair scraped back from her pasty, make-up-free face; the first signs of a cold sore developing on her lips. She invited them into the kitchen, where Robyn spotted a pile of clothes and a roll of bin bags.
‘I was trying to put Henry’s clothes together for the charity shop, but I couldn’t. I’m not ready to have him ripped from my life yet.’
‘Have you nobody to help you with that?’ Robyn asked kindly.
‘My mum volunteered but I sent her away. I wanted to do this alone. She’ll be back later. She’s with Dad making the arrangements for his funeral. I couldn’t face doing it. I tried but as soon as they opened the book and asked which coffin I wanted for him, I broke down. His sister doesn’t want anything to do with it either, so Mum and Dad are handling it.’
‘You’ve spoken to Libby?’
Lauren nodded miserably. ‘She said her mother was in such a bad way, she couldn’t be sure she’d even attend his funeral. That can’t be right, can it? They were siblings. How can you turn your back on your brother like that?’
‘I know this is really tough for you but we’re making progress with our investigations and I have a couple of questions that might help us greatly.’
‘Sure. Anything to find out what happened. I am tortured at night by what happened. I had a horrible dream last night: I was there with Henry, in the car, laughing and chatting, then suddenly I saw a shotgun pointing at us. My heart pounded but I couldn’t scream, and then I woke up. It was horrific. It was a good thing Mum was here. I don’t know what I’d have done if she hadn’t been.’
‘You know Ailsa and Dario Pelligrini?’
Lauren screwed up her face. ‘Yes, of course. I play tennis with Ailsa and Henry occasionally met up with Dario at the pub, after cricket. Why?’
‘Did Ailsa tell you about some clients she’d taken on – a lottery syndicate?’
Lauren chewed her lip for a moment. ‘She did. It was supposed to be very hush-hush. We went out to the theatre in Lichfield and on to a meal afterwards. We had a couple of cocktails and then she ordered a bottle of champagne with the meal. We both got a bit drunk. She told me she was celebrating because they’d taken on the lottery syndicate and were arranging accounts and funds and all sorts of stuff I didn’t understand, and it was going to net them a huge income. She’d been setting up a special holding account for them that day.’
‘Did you tell anybody about this? Did you tell Henry?’
Lauren’s eyes grew big as she nodded. ‘I’d
had way too much to drink and I blabbed, but I knew he wouldn’t tell anyone. He was so trustworthy. I found it amusing because they’d named the account Astra Holding. I made some comment about the name and we both laughed at the thought of little Astra Carrington winning the lottery. Why? Is it important? Should I not have told him?’
‘How did he react when you told him?’
‘He laughed.’
‘Did you notice any changes in his behaviour immediately afterwards? Did he ask you for more details?’
Lauren shook her head. ‘The subject didn’t come up again. He was quieter than usual, but he claimed it was because of the problems we were having – you know, with me not getting pregnant.’
‘So he was quieter than usual?’
Lauren tilted her head back and shut her eyes briefly. ‘Yes. The following day I got cross with him because he wasn’t listening to me, just staring at the cereal packet and ignoring me. I asked him what was wrong and he said he felt under pressure all the time to get me pregnant. We had an argument over it. He stormed off to work but he was fine when he came home later that day.’
Robyn and David left the house buoyed by the interview. They’d made the breakthrough at last. From what they’d discovered, they could assume all three deaths were related. She would present her findings to DCI Flint, arrange protection for the other team members and then track down the murderer.
* * *
Robyn dropped David back at the station and hastened to Yoxall.
Liam Carrington, in jeans and a jumper with something sticky down its front, looked surprised to see her.
‘Come in,’ he said, running a hand over his forehead. ‘Just getting Astra a snack.’ Astra came running out to see who was at the door, and seeing Robyn, gave her a smile.
‘Hi, Astra. Did you enjoy the film with Lauren?’
