by Lynda Renham
‘There’s a curry place around the corner, do you like Indian food? I could murder an Indian.’
Let’s hope he doesn’t mean that literally. How can he even think of eating after that film? All I need is a stiff drink, never mind the food.
‘Sounds great,’ I say, feeling sure I’ll barely get past a poppadum.
‘Brilliant, we can discuss the film.’
Christ, do we have to. Fortunately by the time we reach the restaurant I’ve regained by appetite and the film is a distant memory. Now if I can just keep him off the subject I may be able to enjoy a korma.
‘Did you like the Fun Palace?’ I ask after we’d ordered drinks and our poppadum’s arrive. He looks at me curiously.
‘It’s always a laugh. You obviously enjoyed it.’
I nod.
‘We went there for my friend’s last night of freedom. It was her wedding the next day.’
‘Ah, I can see why you had so much fun,’ he smiles.
Ooh, he’s going to be a heart-throb if he makes it into films as long as he isn’t arrested for murder before he makes it big.
‘What do you do for Ark Morgan?’ he asks after placing our order.
Shit, I’ve been so busy preparing for the Tarantino movie that I forgot about any other questions. I wonder if I can pass and say my chosen subject is Tarantino.
‘I work in the domestic department.’
God, that sounds bloody vague doesn’t it?
‘How do you know Ark?’ I say deflecting and wishing I could turn on the voice recorder on my phone. I’m just not sure I could do it without him noticing.
‘I don’t know him personally,’ he says pouring wine into our glasses. ‘He supports the arts. Apparently he invites an assortment of people to these dos. But hey, you know that, don’t you?’
I nibble on a poppadum, all memory of the blood and gore movie forgotten. I’m more focused on real blood and gore. The question is how can I find out what Nigel did after the Fun Palace without seeming (1) Obsessed with the Fun Palace and (2) Obsessed with his movements. I know I am but the key is not to let him know that.
‘How long have you worked for Ark Morgan?’ he asks.
‘It feels like forever,’ I say.
You can’t get more honest than that.
‘I didn’t see you at the do,’ he says, looking at me closely.
Fortunately our food arrives then and I don’t have to answer.
‘Looks good,’ he says, his eyes lighting up and I feel my heart flutter.
I’m so hoping he isn’t the murderer. Although, if he is, I suppose I could visit him during his time at Her Majesty’s pleasure.
‘We saw the psychic at the Fun Palace,’ I say, steering the conversation back to my favourite subject. God, he must think me so shallow. All I’ve talked about so far is the Fun Palace.
‘I have to admit to spending a fair bit of time at the rifle range,’ he smiles.
‘Did you win anything?’ I ask, taking a swig from my glass.
‘It was more for the fun than to win a prize,’ he says, offering me some of his vegetable curry.
‘This is good, try some.’
His phone rings and he fumbles in his jacket pocket. He pulls something out with the phone and it flutters onto the table. I stare at it with wide eyes. It’s a membership card to a gun club.
Chapter Forty-One
‘Where are you,’ Sylvie whispers.
‘In Desperado’s Mexican just off Chelsea Bridge Road, where are you?’
‘In Manjub’s Balti just off Clapham Junction.’
In fact, we’re both in the restaurant loos.
‘At least we’re getting fed,’ I joke.
‘He belongs to a gun club,’ she says, fighting down her hysteria.
‘Who?’
‘Nigel Forrest, Jesus wept Roxie. Who do you think I’m talking about?’
‘I don’t know. I’m losing track of the suspects. I thought you meant Sam.’
‘What has Sam got to do with anything?’
‘I’m having dinner with him.’
‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Anyway, it isn’t a good sign is it?’
‘You mean, me having dinner with Sam? I don’t understand.’
‘No, Nigel Forrest belonging to a gun club you wally.’
‘It doesn’t necessarily mean he shot our guy,’ I say without conviction in my voice.
‘It makes him a more likely candidate as the murderer though doesn’t it? I mean, don’t people in gun clubs have gun permits.’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone who belonged to a gun club. How do you know he does?’
‘His membership card fell out of his pocket. We need to WhatsApp Felix. Get him to google it.’
‘He’s on a plane to Barcelona,’ I say.
‘What the hell is he doing in Barcelona?’
‘He’s working.’
‘Shit, of course, I keep forgetting he’s a bloody air steward. Can you google it?’
‘I’m on my phone talking to you and I can’t do it over dinner with Sam.’
‘Why are you having dinner with Sam?’
‘It’s a long story. If we stay in the loos much longer they’ll think we’ve got Deli Belly.’
‘You don’t get Deli Belly from Mexican food.’ I sigh.
‘You should shag him. I’d better go. I may well be with the murderer so I’ll make phone contact every fifteen minutes. If I go over time and you don’t hear from me you’d better call the police. I’m in Manjub’s Balti, will you remember that?’
It all sounds a bit melodramatic.
‘I’ll make a note as soon as I come off the phone but I don’t think he’s going to do anything to you in a public place,’ I say, remembering Felix’s advice.
‘That didn’t stop Michael Corleone in the Godfather did it? Shot them at point-blank range,’ she says earnestly.
‘That was a film,’ I remind her.
‘Yes, but all the same.’
‘Clapham Common is a bit different from gangland New York don’t you think?’
‘I know that,’ she sighs, ‘I’m just stating the fact that it could happen.’
‘Right,’ I say.
We hang up and I tidy my hair in the mirror. Of course, if Nigel Forrest is the murderer then that means that Sam Lockwood isn’t. I leave the loo and head back to our table where sweetcorn and chicken wings await me. Sam offers me chilli sauce.
‘It this doesn’t blow your head off, nothing will,’ he laughs.
Blimey, that’s a bit close to the knuckle isn’t it? I hope he doesn’t mean that literally.
‘I think I’d prefer to keep my head where it is.’
He grins and bites into his sweetcorn. There’s something very honest about Sam Lockwood. I can’t help but believe his story about Ark’s girlfriend, but why would Ark keep saying that Sam wants everything that doesn’t belong to him? The waitress brings our main dishes and Sam tucks into his chilli con carne.
‘How much did you win on the lottery?’ he asks.
‘Seventy-five thousand,’ I say honestly.
He whistles.
‘That’s amazing. Does Ark know?’
I sigh.
‘What is it about you and Ark Morgan? He’s always asking about you and you’re always asking about him?’
He reclines in his seat.
‘I don’t ask about Ark Morgan, I ask about you and Ark Morgan, which is totally different. However, I think Ark Morgan probably does ask about me.’ He pauses to sip his wine.
‘I wouldn’t tell Morgan about your lottery win,’ he says cautiously. ‘He’ll try and get you to invest it, and his investments aren’t all they ought to be.’
I’ve no intention of telling Ark Morgan about my lottery win. If I do, I’ll then have to tell him the truth about myself and I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet. In fact, I’m not too sure how I feel about Ark Morgan. He isn’t at all like Christian Grey, or my fantasies, and if I’m hone
st, since Darren and I parted I haven’t felt inclined to read erotica or fantasise, or is that since I met Sam Lockwood? My phone blings with a WhatsApp message, has it been fifteen minutes already? At least that means the actor hasn’t murdered her yet.
‘You haven’t said if you’ll come to the championship next week?’
‘I don’t know,’ I mutter.
‘I’ll feel a lot more confident if you’re there.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ I say.
‘Do you believe what Morgan tells you about me? That we ignore planning rules? That we try to buy land for cheap warehouses? Has he been feeding you that crap?’ His eyes harden and his tone is sarcastic.
‘Something like that.’ I say, avoiding his eyes.
‘And you believe it?’
‘I don’t know what to believe,’ I say honestly.
‘We had a dispute last year over a plot, that much is true. It originally was a run-down centre for street kids. Dad puts a lot of money into education and backs a lot of these places to get kids off the streets. My dad was like a street kid. He believes these places give kids a chance that wouldn’t normally have one. We wanted to invest in the place but Morgan wanted the plot for a hotel. Felicity was appalled at his corruptness and told me about it. He didn’t bargain on the fact that she would finally see through him. He’s very bitter about her leaving him. He blames me for that. He deliberately did some shady deal with someone on the council. He told them we were planning to build warehouses on the plot, which was a complete lie. We were applying for permission to use the site as a social centre and Ark managed to block our application. He used all his contacts. He then bulldozed the site and then bought it at a cheap price.’
He stops, exhales and finishes his wine before waving to the waitress for another glass.
‘That’s the truth,’ he adds. ‘He believes I stole Felicity from him.’
My phone bleeps again. Time really flies when you’re enjoying yourself, I glance down at it to see both are from Sylvie and both have thumbs up signs.
‘Everything okay?’ asks Sam.
‘Fine,’ I say, accepting a dessert menu from the waitress.
‘There’s a brilliant ice cream place around the corner, shall we go there?’ he asks.
‘I believe you,’ I say.
He smiles.
‘Good, I’m never wrong when it comes to ice cream.’
‘I meant about Ark Morgan and the property deal.’
He nods.
‘I’ll pay shall I, and we’ll get that excellent ice cream.’
I message Sylvie while he goes to pay.
Sam Lockwood is not the murderer. I click send and it bleeps immediately with a response. I smile and look at the message except it isn’t from Sylvie, it’s from Ark.
I have the perfect gift for you. I want you to wear it at the opening party of my new hotel in Knightsbridge. I’ve had it delivered to your flat in Rommel Mansions. I hope you like it. I’ll send a car at seven to collect you tomorrow night for the opening.’
Tomorrow night? My heart jumps into my mouth and I can hardly breathe. How does he know where I live? My heart races and my mind whirls. I’m about to message Sylvie when my phone bleeps again. I’m almost too scared to look.
And Miss Brown, wear that perfume. You know how it intoxicates me.’
I shudder and send a WhatsApp message to the That Night group.
Sam Lockwood is not the murderer but Ark Morgan is looking very suspicious.
Chapter Forty-Two
I’d tried to get Ark Morgan out of my head for the rest of the evening but found it impossible. All kind of crazy ideas were going through my brain. Is my car bugged? Is the flat bugged? How could Ark know where I live? Does he also know that I’m one of his chambermaids? Has he had me followed? He must know I saw him through the telescope. Oh God, my life is in danger. Should I phone the police? I escape the ice cream parlour and head to the loo again. Sam must think I’ve got a bladder problem.
‘Okay keep calm,’ Sylvie says. ‘I don’t believe for one minute that he saw you through the telescope, that’s if he is the murderer.’
‘But he knows where I live?’ I say, panic rising in me.
‘Keep calm Rox. Someone with his contacts could easily find out where you live. It doesn’t mean you’ve been followed. If he had had you followed he would know you work for him and he doesn’t seem to know that. I think he just checked out your address. You must be on the electoral roll, then all someone had to do was ask around. That busybody you asked to forward your post probably told them.’
I take a deep breath. She’s quite right. I’m letting my imagination run away with me.
‘The important thing is to meet him. We can talk about it at work tomorrow. I’ve got to dash. We’re going onto a club.’
I go back to the ice cream parlour where Sam has ordered triple chocolate sundaes with hot fudge sauce.
‘I hope you’re not dieting,’ he says, handing me a spoon.
I’m so not and I so need chocolate. Ten minutes later I feel a whole lot better. We finish the sundaes and wander along Chelsea embankment, our hands barely touching until his hand slides into mine. The low sun warms us and sparkles on the Thames. We pass loving couples on the benches and smile at each other.
‘Ark Morgan has invited me to the opening of his new hotel tomorrow night,’ I say.
‘Ah,’ he says. ‘He’s invited me too.’
‘He has?’ I say surprised.
‘I don’t think he sends out the invites to be honest, more likely it’s his publicity manager. He’ll probably be none too thrilled to see me, if I go of course.’
‘Oh please go,’ I say and bite my lip.
We sit and watch the sun go down. I can feel the heat of his body and when he drapes his arm across the back of the bench onto my shoulder I move closer to him. There are less people around now and Felix’s advice seems no longer relevant. The air feels chilly and I wish I had brought a shawl with me. I try not to shiver.
‘You’re welcome to my jacket but it’s not that warm I’m afraid,’ he says, draping it over my shoulders.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I say.
‘Let’s get your car,’ he says, waving to a passing cab.
I don’t want the evening to end but I can’t think of a way to drag it out any longer.
He studies my Fiesta.
‘Don’t often see a Fiesta in such good condition,’ he says teasingly.
‘I know. I really should buy another car.’
‘That’s a healthy squeak,’ he laughs as he opens the door for me.
‘I wouldn’t be comfortable with a car without a squeaky door,’ I laugh.
I’m conscious that we’re the only people in the street. I’m alone with him. If he’s going to do it, this would be the time. He puts his hand into his pocket and I almost stop breathing.
‘I guess this is goodbye Roxie Brown,’ he says.
Oh my God. I don’t know whether to scream or faint. In fact I don’t think I have much choice in the matter. It’s going to be a faint because my throat has closed up. He whips out a piece of paper and I feel myself sway and have to lean on the car to stay upright.
‘This is the flyer for the championship match next week. Think about it.’
‘Oh,’ I say hoarsely.
‘Hey,’ he says, ‘do you fancy a ride on my motorbike. I can take you for a spin before the do at Morgan’s. In fact we can go there on the bike.’
I hesitate. What if Ark Morgan sees me? He’ll be really angry. And if he is the murderer it might just tip him over the edge. Then again, if he knows Sam’s protecting me he might be more cautious. But, a Harley Davidson, that’s dangerous right?
‘Okay,’ I say.
‘Great,’ he says leaning towards me. ‘I look forward to it. Thanks for a fun evening.’
My body buzzes with anticipation. I turn to him and our lips meet like magnets. My hand rests on his hip and his kiss consumes me. For
a moment I am floating in heaven, unaware of anything except his body wrapped in mine. Forget the ice cubes, Sam’s lips are enough to send the sparks flying. I stroke his neck, pressing against him for just that bit longer. He pulls away from me gently, looking into my eyes and I’m totally lost. This is not like the kiss Ark Morgan gave me and I have never felt this whenever Darren kissed me. I feel complete in his arms but wanting more all at the same time.
‘Too soon?’ he whispers.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
His phone bleeps and I remember Sylvie. I haven’t heard from her in almost an hour.
Chapter Forty-Three
‘You could have messaged me earlier,’ I say sulkily. ‘I almost phoned the police and then realised I couldn’t even describe what you were wearing.’
‘That’s a point. In future I’ll need a description of your outfits. It will make it a lot easier for the Crimewatch reconstruction if one of you is murdered,’ says Felix.
‘God, you’re cheerful,’ grunts Sylvie. ‘Shame it wasn’t a stopover you had in Barcelona.’
‘You would have missed me love, and you know it.’
‘Besides, I did message you. So, I don’t know why you’re complaining?’
‘Because you said every fifteen minutes,’ I argue.
‘Christ Rox, I was busy doing other things.’
‘Slut,’ quips Felix.
‘How was I to know that?’
Felix unscrews a bottle of cider and hands us a glass.
‘Drink this and shut up. God, I’m glad I’m not a woman.’
‘You’re more woman than we are,’ says Sylvie.
We turn our attention to the dress that hangs like a shroud on Zena the warrior in the corner of my living room and stare at in silence for a few minutes.
‘If I’m honest she doesn’t really do that dress justice does she?’ says Felix, breaking the silence.
‘That’s because Zulu women don’t make a habit of parading in cocktail dresses,’ says Sylvie.
‘They don’t parade in any kind of dress do they?’ queries Felix.
‘Why are we even discussing what Zulu warriors wear?’ I say sharply, feeling my nerves will give way any minute.
