by Roberta Kray
Jess went up the stairs, located the room and peered in through the small reinforced oblong of glass in the door. There were about thirty people inside but no sign of Sylvie. She knew that didn’t prove anything – lots of students skipped Monday morning lectures – but she’d got the impression that Sylvie wasn’t the type to miss classes.
With another fifty minutes to go before the lecture finished, Jess decided to grab a coffee. The student café was quiet and she easily found an empty table, got out her iPad and reviewed the data she’d gathered so far. She’d been doing research yesterday and had managed to dig up some information on Joshua Keynes. He was an estate agent by trade, a partner in a company based in Hampstead. She had managed to get access to his Facebook page by sending a friend request from a fake profile of a girl called Olivia Reid, a pretty blonde with a come-hither smile. Keynes had over three hundred so-called ‘friends’ and she’d suspected – rightly as it turned out – that he wasn’t too fussy about whom he accepted.
From the site, she’d discovered that he was forty-two, ‘in a relationship’ (that would be Sarah Thorne) and that he was a fan of golf, film and holidays abroad: there were numerous photos of him lounging in exotic Caribbean resorts or skiing in Aspen. His posts frequently had an arrogant or sarcastic edge with a nice dose of misogyny thrown in. None of which did anything to dispel her original impression of him: Joshua Keynes was an unpleasant man with a bad attitude towards women.
Jess had also searched for any social networking sites that Sylvie might be on. She’d checked out Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapshot and other lesser known ones, but nothing had shown up. Perhaps, with the job she had, Sylvie was unwilling to share any information online. Or perhaps she used a different name.
Jess had made two visits to the flat in Shoreditch, but no one had come to the door. If Sylvie had returned home at any point, she’d ignored the note that had been pushed through the letterbox asking her to call urgently. Why would she do that? And why wouldn’t she turn up for college? No, this was all smelling really bad.
With another half-hour to kill, Jess tried to call Harry but his phone was turned off. ‘It’s Jess,’ she said after the beep. ‘Can you get back to me when you have a minute? Thanks.’ Next, she rang Lorna and asked if she’d heard anything from Sylvie.
‘Not yet, I’m afraid,’ Lorna said. ‘There is something, though. I had a chat with a few of the girls and found out that her ex is called Brett, Brett Rush. He’s on the same course as her.’
‘Oh, okay. That’s useful. I’m at the college now, but she hasn’t shown up for class.’
‘You won’t say she’s, er … missing or anything? I mean, until we know for sure one way or the other, I think it’s better if—’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. Harry isn’t around, is he? I’ve been trying to get hold of him.’
‘No, he’s out on a job, but I’ll tell him you called.’
‘Thanks.’ Jess hung up, finished her coffee and continued with her notes. Then, at five to ten, she gathered her things and made her way back to the lecture room. Looking in through the window again, she scanned the male faces for one she might recognise from Wilder’s. But none of them were even faintly familiar. This was probably because she hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone other than Sylvie and Keynes. She tried to guess which of the students was Brett Rush. Her money was on one of the more mature men, especially the blond, well-dressed bloke in his thirties sitting near the front. He seemed more suited to Sylvie than any of the others.
Jess stood back as they filed out of the room. She waited until the chosen one was walking along the corridor before falling into step beside him. ‘Hi. Excuse me, but are you Brett Rush?’
‘No, not me.’ He shook his head, turned and pointed towards a tall lanky boy who didn’t look much older than twenty. ‘That’s him, the guy with the red T-shirt.’
‘Oh, okay. Thanks.’
Jess approached the boy and smiled. ‘Hi, Brett. I’m Jess, a friend of Sylvie’s. Could I have a quick word?’
Brett stopped walking, arched his eyebrows and stared at her. He was handsome in a sullen kind of way, with dark brooding eyes and the kind of floppy haircut that Hugh Grant would have been proud of. ‘What d’you want?’
Although his tone was abrupt, Jess kept the smile on her face. ‘I was just wondering if you knew why Sylvie wasn’t in?’
‘Why should I?’
‘I thought you were friends.’
Brett barked out a laugh. ‘And who told you that?’
‘So you’ve no idea if she’ll be here later?’
‘Just said, didn’t I?’
‘Not exactly.’
Brett wrinkled his nose. ‘She’ll turn up when she feels like it.’
‘So you haven’t seen her since Saturday?’
He gave a jump, his eyes narrowing into two cold slits. ‘What?’
‘Saturday.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You were at Wilder’s, weren’t you?’
For a moment Brett looked like he was going to deny it, but then he gave a shrug and briefly glanced away from her. ‘So?’
‘Yeah, I thought I recognised you,’ Jess lied. ‘Kind of a coincidence you being there.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing. I’m just saying. Small world, right?’
‘I can go to a bar if I like. There’s no law against it.’
‘No, but there is a law against following your ex-girlfriend around. I think it’s called stalking.’
Brett’s mood suddenly changed, his face becoming tight and angry. ‘I haven’t been stalking her. And you know what? There should be a fuckin’ law about what she does. You think it’s right that she sets up blokes like that? It’s sick, man. There’s something wrong with her.’
‘They all have a choice,’ Jess said. ‘None of them have to say yes. None of them have to call her.’
‘Yeah, right. You’ve seen what she looks like. No bloke’s going to turn down a girl like that.’ His lips curled into a sneer. ‘And she gets off on it. I know she does. She loves twisting all those guys round her little finger.’
Jess could hear the anger and resentment in his voice. ‘So,’ she said, attempting to get back to the point, ‘you’ve no idea where Sylvie is at the moment? I’ve been calling her but her phone seems to be switched off.’
‘Disappeared, has she?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say disappeared exactly, but—’
‘Maybe that bloke in Wilder’s decided to teach her a lesson.’
Jess felt a sliver of ice run down her spine. ‘What?’
‘Maybe someone told him what she was really up to.’
She stared at him, her eyes bright with alarm. ‘Did you tell him, Brett? Is that what you did? Did you?’
Brett grinned at her. ‘Who, me? Now why would I do a mean, nasty thing like that?’
‘Because you don’t like how she makes her money, because she dumped you, because—’
‘She didn’t dump me, lady. I dumped her. At least get your facts straight before you start throwing accusations around.’
‘Just tell me the truth. It’s important. Did you tell him or not?’
Brett leaned forward and expelled a rush of garlic breath into her face. He lowered his voice until it was no more than a whisper. ‘You know what? Sylvie Durand deserves everything that’s coming to her.’
‘And what would that be, exactly?’ Jess tried not to inhale too deeply. Her heart was thumping in her chest, anxiety merging into fear of what might have happened to Sylvie.
Brett left a short pause before he hissed: ‘What goes around, comes around. It’s karma, babe.. That’s what it is.’ And with that he turned on his heel and walked away.
16
The woman sitting in front of Harry was in her early thirties, a striking brunette with an excellent figure, high cheekbones and hazel eyes. She would have been more attractive, however, if her face hadn’t been c
ontorted with rage, and that rage hadn’t been forcefully directed at him.
‘So you’re telling me that Josh knows, he bloody well knows that I hired some tart to try and set him up?’
Harry tried to keep his reply as calm and reassuring as possible. He let the ‘tart’ comment pass – the woman was upset – but he didn’t like her for it. ‘We don’t know anything for sure, but there is a possibility.’
‘What kind of a fucking cowboy outfit is this? You’re pathetic, the whole bloody lot of you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’
Harry had known there was going to be trouble as soon as Lorna received the call from Jess about Brett Rush. The information had been relayed to Sarah Thorne and now she was here, mad as hell and wanting her pound of flesh. ‘I understand how—’
‘Do you? Do you really? You’ve just managed to wreck my relationship. Do you understand that? He knows now, doesn’t he? He knows what I did. How am I going to explain why …’ She briefly sank her head into her hands before glaring up at Harry again. ‘Jesus Christ!’
Harry suspected that things were going to get worse before they got better – that’s if they ever got better. ‘As I said, we can’t be certain. But we felt we had to inform you just in case. The man in question has hinted, has suggested, that he told Mr Keynes about the honeytrap on Saturday night.’
‘Well, it’s not bloody good enough! You’re supposed to be a detective agency, aren’t you? Surely you can find out one way or the other.’
‘He could simply be trying to cause trouble.’
Sarah Thorne bared her teeth and hissed. ‘Trouble? This isn’t just trouble. This is a stinking major disaster.’
‘Has there been any … any indication that Mr Keynes does know? Any change in his behaviour, for example?’
‘He’s not going to tell me, is he? He’s not stupid.’ She slapped her palms down on the desk. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do now? Just tell me that.’
Harry didn’t have any helpful answers to the question. ‘What we are sure of is that he hasn’t called the girl. To date, he hasn’t made any attempt to get in contact with her.’
Sarah Thorne winced at this piece of information. ‘Which means he knows. He definitely does. He must.’
‘Or he just isn’t interested.’
The woman gave a snort. ‘He’s always bloody interested. He can’t stop himself. Show him a piece of skirt and … No, the only reason he hasn’t called is because he knows it’s a set-up.’
Harry couldn’t help wondering why she even wanted to salvage the relationship with Keynes. What was the point? She clearly didn’t trust him. However, he’d been in the business long enough to realise that you could never fathom other people’s love affairs. ‘It might be wise not to do anything rash. We’ll keep you informed of any developments.’
Sarah Thorne jumped up out of her chair, her body taut and her eyes full of fury. ‘That’s the best you can offer, is it? My life’s falling apart and you’ll “keep me informed”. Well, it’s not good enough, not by a long chalk, and if you think you’re getting away with it you’re completely out of your mind.’
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she was already across the room and yanking open the door.
‘You’ll be hearing from my solicitors,’ she snapped without looking back. She stormed across reception, almost barging into Jess who was standing by the coffee machine, and stomped down the stairs.
Jess walked over to Harry’s office, raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘Another satisfied customer.’
‘That was Sarah Thorne,’ he said.
‘Ah.’
‘Ah, indeed. A very unhappy Sarah Thorne, as you may have observed.’
Jess went in, closed the door behind her and sat down. ‘I’m not surprised. She’s in a tricky position.’
‘As she made patently clear.’
‘I’m not sure what I’d do in her shoes. Does she come clean or just keep quiet and hope that Brett Rush is lying? It’s a tough one.’
‘Do you think he could have been lying?’
Jess considered it. ‘He might have been, but he’s bitter enough to have done it. For a man who claims that he finished the relationship, he still seems weirdly obsessed with Sylvie. I mean, he’s obviously been following her around. And how did he even get into that reception? It was ticket only and you know what the bloke on the door was like.’
Harry picked up a pencil and rolled it between his fingers. Sarah Thorne had provided the two tickets for Mackenzie, Lind to use. ‘Maybe he slipped the guy a sweetener, a score or the like. Most doormen don’t earn that much. And who’s going to notice one extra person in there? Or perhaps Brett just waited for the right opportunity and managed to get in without being seen.’
‘I suppose. So did you ask Sarah where her boyfriend went after he left Wilder’s?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it was a short conversation and she did most of the talking. And anyway, why are you still so convinced that Keynes is in the frame? I’d have thought Brett Rush was a more likely suspect. He sounds like a man with a grudge, and he had just as much opportunity.’
‘I just … I don’t know. I suppose I’m working on the premise that he wouldn’t have been so openly angry and bitter if he’d actually done something to her. He didn’t even try and hide how he felt. Wouldn’t he have behaved differently if he was directly responsible for her disappearance?’
‘Perhaps. Unless he’s trying to shift the focus on to Keynes.’
‘Except you don’t even believe that Sylvie is missing.’
‘I’m speaking theoretically.’
Jess frowned at him. ‘Even though she didn’t turn up for college today? And what about this whole phone business? You don’t think that’s odd? If I’d lost my phone, I’d be trying to find it. She hasn’t even called Lorna to see if it’s shown up.’
‘It hasn’t – I asked Guy Wilder – but it’s not that odd that Sylvie isn’t bothered. It’s a work phone, one we provided. She won’t need it again until she has another job. The girls don’t use them for anything personal because all the texts come through to the office.
She’ll have another one, I’m sure.’
‘But you don’t have the number?’
‘We always contact them on the work phone. That’s the way we operate. We’ve got a landline number for her, but she hasn’t replied to any messages. It looks like she hasn’t been home yet. But it’s only Monday. If she’s been staying with a friend or a boyfriend, she could still be with them.’
‘And what about college?’
‘What about it? Maybe she’s had a bellyful of Brett Rush, especially if he’s been following her around. She could be trying to avoid him for a while. Or maybe she’s been partying and just didn’t feel up to it.’
Jess put her elbows on the table and stared at him. ‘And what if Joshua Keynes is holding her somewhere? Or if he’s already …’
She didn’t need to finish the sentence for Harry to understand what she meant. He was about to protest, to wave her worries aside, but suddenly recalled how he’d felt when the police had turned up and told him about a body being found. His first thought then had been that it was Sylvie. ‘So what are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking we should follow Keynes, see where he goes. He’s an estate agent so he must have access to lots of properties. And you’re right, we should probably check out Brett too.’
‘What’s with the “we”?’
‘You owe me,’ Jess said. ‘I followed Ellen Shaw for you, remember? How did that go, by the way?’
Harry pulled a face. ‘Not as well as it could have, and now she’s done a moonlight flit so God knows where she is.’
‘Oh.’
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘Isn’t this where you say that it’s probably for the best.’
Jess gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. ‘It didn’t even cross my mind.�
��
‘Of course it didn’t.’
She quickly changed the subject. ‘So are you going to help me look for Sylvie? A few days, that’s all I’m asking.’
Harry flipped the pencil on to the desk, picked it up again and gave a sigh. On balance, he decided that it was probably wiser to work with Jess than leave her to her own devices. There was no knowing what she might do or who she might upset. He’d already had one threat of legal action today and didn’t fancy another. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked, getting to his feet. ‘You’re not going to find her sitting here.’
17
Surveillance looked easy on TV. After all, how hard could it be to follow someone around? As it happened, the answer was ‘very hard’. Jess had been parked up in Hampstead, near the office of Musgrove & Keynes, for the best part of the afternoon. Twice she had found herself in the position of trying to tail Joshua Keynes without being noticed, a tricky task when you were juggling with the problems of keeping a reasonable distance – at least a couple of cars back – and not losing him completely. Traffic lights had proved her downfall on the second occasion when the red Porsche swept across a junction just as the lights changed to amber, and she was left cursing as the car disappeared from view.
With no other choice, Jess had returned to her original parking space to wait for his return. This had happened half an hour later – hopefully he had just been conducting another viewing – and since then things had gone quiet. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was four-thirty. The office closed at five and this would be the most likely time for Keynes to lead her to Sylvie.
‘Please God, give me something,’ she murmured. ‘Help me out here.’
The trouble with surveillance, other than the practical side, was that it gave you too many hours to think. Her head was full of winding threads: Sylvie and the crowded bar at Wilder’s, Joshua Keynes making a furtive phone call outside his house, Valerie Middleton sniping at Harry, and the cold angry eyes of Brett Rush. She wondered how Harry was getting on with following the latter. Earlier, they’d gone together to Farnborough College and she had pointed out Brett to him.
