“I can’t believe it either,” I tried to sound excited as I looked around the faces of David’s entire family. “There’s lovely to see you all.”
David shot me an apologetic look. “Chloe, you should have told me they were coming. Poor Izzy’s been ambushed.”
Chloe replied with a not-sorry smile and David’s parents stood up to interrogate me.
“He’s told us literally nothing about you,” his mother explained. “But sit near us and we can get to know you.”
“Leave off, Mam. You’ll scare her.”
“Izzy, is it?” His father had a deep booming voice which made him sound like he was practicing for a male voice choir. He held his hand out and then – with the wine already flowing – said, “What am I doing? Get over here!” and gave me a rather large hug which his wife joined in on.
“Izzy, please don’t feel like you have to talk to these people. I’ve yet to see any evidence we’re related.” I noticed David’s Welsh accent coming out more strongly than normal. For some reason, so was mine.
“Don’t be silly, Dai. It’s lovely to meet your folks, like. Shall I sit down by ‘er’?” Sadly I’ve never been great at accents and ended up sounding more South Asian than Southwalian.
“That’s right, love. Just by there.”
I ended up with Chloe and David on either side of me and his parents sitting opposite. Auntie Val went to chat to the rest of her large, extended family. There was still one seat free but, not to worry, that was soon filled by David’s ex-wife Luned who turned up a few minutes later. I felt like closing my mouth and never opening it again. Alas, I was in an inexplicably chatty mood.
“So there I was, some bloody great gorilla trying to kill me, like, and I run towards the knife instead of away from it. I’m bloody mad me.” I was regaling my future in-laws (too soon?) with the story of our brush with death. Just in case they thought I was a normal sane person, I’d dropped my voice a couple of octaves to match David’s dad’s.
“That’s a very distinctive accent you’ve got there, Izzy,” he soon commented. “Let me guess… Carmarthen?”
“No, Croydon.”
Somehow… SOMEHOW! I made it through lunch without anyone accusing me of being a racist, though Auntie Val had a good laugh whenever I spoke. I didn’t feel so bad about not bringing a present considering all the joy I was giving her.
Despite the general hugginess of the Hughes clan, I came to think that I’d finally found my people. They were so open and friendly and I wondered if the land of Wales was full of weirdos like me.
When the dessert arrived, and I’d calmed down a bit, I had the chance to chat to David’s niece. Next to Chloe, I felt like a Christmas tree that someone had tried to take back to the shop the following June. Talking to her was like looking into a mirror that only shows you beautiful things.
“I’m sorry for not warning David that everyone would be here.” She didn’t sound it. “But I wanted to surprise him. He’s had a tough couple of weeks.”
“That’s okay. He told me how low he’s been.”
“God knows why he’d waste a tear on that monster, Bob.” A strain of anger suddenly cut through her voice. “I’m glad that disgusting man is dead.”
I, the woman who had recently led the table in a particularly raucous version of ‘Delilah’, was taken aback. “Woah, where did that come from?”
“You know what happened? To my friend Pippa I mean.”
I retained my blank expression.
“No, course not. They hushed it up.” She slammed her beer bottle down on the table, causing foam to splurge up out of it like a mini volcano. “Bob practically raped her. And I don’t mean he held her hand inappropriately, I mean he forced her up against his desk and ripped her underwear off. If Amara hadn’t walked in, he’d have managed it too.”
“I had no idea.” I took a slug of Rioja to process what she was telling me. “No wonder you hated him. There were rumours he’d upset one of the interns, but I didn’t imagine anything like that.”
“That’s how people like him get away with it, right?” She spat the question from her mouth. “No one can imagine how depraved they are. To be fair, David did all he could to get rid of Bob, but Mr Porter was having none of it. They even paid Pippa off to keep her quiet. I tried to get her to go to the police but she was terrified. I don’t think she’s recovered, even now.”
Chloe’s hate fed my own and a thousand abusive memories sparked in my brain. Not just of Bob, but of every filthy bloke who touched girls up on the tube, or stood weirdly close to me in lifts. I couldn’t imagine the fiery girl in front of me putting up with any of it and it soothed away that fizz of anger.
“Sorry to spoil the mood.” She didn’t sound sorry and she was right not to. “It still makes me furious to think about it.”
I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t okay and her friend should never have had to put up with our odious boss, but I hesitated and the conversation moved on.
“Here, Izzy,” Auntie Val shouted from the other end of the table. “I don’t suppose you know the words to ‘It’s Not Unusual?’”
Chapter Twenty-One
Auntie Val had reached the prodigious age of eighty-one and was fierce and funny throughout the party. At six o’clock, David whispered that it might be getting too much for her and suggested we head home.
She was just as sparky on the train journey as she had been in the morning but, as she grew more tired, she repeated stories I’d already heard and began mixing up people’s names. To be fair, I get like that if I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep myself and her good humour and bright burning intelligence never dulled.
“It’s been such a perfect day.” She told me when we got back to Croydon, still grinning from cheek to cheek. “And you’re a little marvel, Izzy. I’ll make sure this lummocking nephew of mine doesn’t let you slip through his fingers.”
We dropped her off at home, round the corner from David’s, and made sure she was well installed before leaving.
“Next time you come, we’ll have to do some karaoke,” she told me with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
David had looked embarrassed throughout the day as everyone told me stories of his childhood but he clearly adored his family.
“They’re lovely.” We were walking back to mine, with the very clear instructions that he would not be meeting my Mum. “I honestly thought they were brilliant.”
“Well, that was clear. I had no idea you were such an entertainer.”
“I am so sorry.” He took my hand and swung it between us again. “I should have warned you how I get around boyfriends’ families. If you want to break up with me and fire me and never talk to me again, I completely understand.”
“And miss out on more Tom Jones singalongs? They’re a rare event in London, I’d be a fool to get rid of you.”
All right. Gooey gooey gooey. Kiss kiss kiss. We did the flirty talking most of the way home and when we got to West Wickham High Street I knew I had to change the topic.
“Chloe told me what happened to her friend Pippa.”
Perhaps it wasn’t the conversation to be having next to a Chick ‘o’ Mansion but I needed to tell him. His face turned serious and at first I thought he wouldn’t reply.
“I’ll never forgive myself for what happened.”
We stopped on the corner by the launderette. “You’re not the one to blame. Chloe told me you did everything you could.”
“Hardly.” He looked back down the road from where we’d come. “I should have quit my job or convinced Pippa to go to the police. The fact that Bob could get away with something so evil will haunt me forever. And that’s nothing compared to what Pippa went through.”
An old man with a trolley bag gave us a guilty stare for getting in his way, so we walked on.
“You weren’t responsible, David. You couldn’t have known that Bob would do something so despicable.”
Even though two years had passed, he still got
visibly upset. “I was his boss. It was my job to keep an eye on him and protect my other employees. I’d always known he could be inappropriate with female staff, I shouldn’t have let the interns anywhere near him.”
I didn’t know what to say to that because I basically agreed with him.
We turned into my road and he took my hand once more. “But I want you to know that it wasn’t me who covered it up. I didn’t stop anyone from talking about what Bob had done. It was Mr Porter who offered Pippa the money. And she made Amara and I promise that we wouldn’t say anything to anyone. She didn’t want her dad finding out.”
“Her dad?”
“Yeah, Pippa is Jack’s daughter.” He had a melancholy look on his face as he spoke. “Well, estranged daughter. I think he hoped that getting the internship for her at P&P would bring them closer together. Sad, really.”
A spark, a click and then threads started weaving together in my mind. “And you’re sure that he never found out about the assault?” We’d stopped in front of my garden gate.
“Not as far as I know.” His usual cheerful expression still hadn’t returned. “Why?”
I didn’t answer, I had too many questions of my own. “David, why do you think Bob was killed?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He looked at me as if this was true. “He pushed someone too far. You know what he was like. He took pleasure in other people’s suffering. I thought that after he got sick he might find some humility, but if anything, he was worse. It was as if he wanted everyone to know just how despicable he could be. I’d go into my office sometimes and find notes confessing to all sorts of small barbarities.”
I glanced into the front room, worried that The Hawes Lane Murder Appreciation Group could be watching us. Luckily there was only Greg there, his canvases restored to their rightful place. “Bob wrote notes specifically for you to find?”
“He knew that Porter wouldn’t fire him and that he could do what he liked, so he taunted me with his indiscretions. He was even worse to Amara. She found that stupid knife of his stabbed into her desk one day and a little message saying ‘I stole your stapler. You won’t be getting it back.’ I got the impression he liked having her as an adversary best of all.”
I kind of wished Bob was still alive right then so that I could give him a smack. “He was pathetic. If only I’d told him just that.”
“He wouldn’t have taken any notice. Bob thought he was the king of the office. He thought he had all the power.”
“What I don’t understand is why Mr Porter kept him around in the first place.”
David sat down on the garden wall. “Aldrich Porter has been good to me. He gave me an opportunity to run the company, when I was still young to be a director. He put his faith in me and I’m pretty sure he did the same for Bob twenty years ago. But Porter doesn’t like admitting his mistakes. Punishing Bob, would have meant conceding that he’d trusted the wrong person.”
“That or he didn’t want the last dinosaur in the office to be done away with.”
David’s face brightened a little. “Well, that is another possibility.”
“David, darling?” A voice called from the doorstep. “Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea?”
I pulled him up to standing before my mother could grab him. “Run, David. Run while you can.”
He didn’t seem worried. “Hello, Mrs Palmer. I’m afraid I’m meeting friends for a drink this evening but I look forward to it some other time.”
I gave him a quick peck and pushed him on his way.
Kiss number sixteen; the most perfunctory so far.
Shhhhh! We said we’d stopped counting.
With my mother suitably told off for scaring my boyfriend away, I entered the house, grabbed the flipcharts from the hall and headed to my bedroom.
I had to hand it to Mum and Dads, they’d done a good job of processing the evidence. There were pages laid out for all the suspects, with an explanation of how the evidence related to each of them. I turned to Jack’s page.
Jack Campbell
Alibi: Walking dog. Unlikely.
Motive: Hated Bob.
Had been humiliated at office Christmas party.
Bob had dirt on him.
Evidence:Jack knew about Bob’s coke habit.
Had access to P&P offices out of hours.
Had full knowledge of security systems.
Had access to server room to remove hard drives.
Was reluctant to detain Izzy on the morning she discovered Bob’s corpse.
Questions:What dirt did Bob have on him?
Where did Bob’s drugs come from?
Theory:Jack killed Bob to settle their feud.
Of the six suspects they’d written up these crib sheets for, Jack’s was the least substantial. If he’d found out what had happened to his daughter though, it would change everything. Maybe Bob had dangled the crime before him as he had with Amara and her stapler.
Jack Campbell. Just the sound of his name called up images of brown cardigans and walking holidays in Norfolk. Could there be something more sinister lurking behind his drab, Middle-Englander façade?
Chapter Twenty-Two
From feeling like I wanted to give up my amateur investigation, that weekend’s revelations had reenergised me. There were theories to test out and a host of new avenues to explore. Even though our suspects had no idea I was watching them, I could feel how close I was finally getting.
But first, Sunday at home with the folks.
At least Danny had decided to spare me his tears by going to visit his real family, in their caravan in Hastings, not that it made Mum any less furious at me. Even Greg’s sensationally delicious roast dinner couldn’t make up for how slowly that day dragged by.
When Monday finally came I couldn’t wait to get into the office and down to work – well, you know what I mean. As soon as I entered the Porter & Porter premises, I noticed that the police tape had been removed from Bob’s room and his door was open. I took a peek inside on the way to see Ramesh, only to find a strangely fragmented version of the space I remembered.
The blood was gone but so were many other traces of Bob. A family photo had been removed from his desk, a painting was missing from the wall and all the clutter that normally marked the place as his had been boxed up. It was strange to be in there again for the first time since the murder. I could still picture his horribly vacant stare as he lay slumped there.
“Coming to see my new digs?” Will had appeared without me hearing and pushed past me into the office, with a pile of folders in his arms.
“Really funny. Who even said you could come in here?”
“I had an e-mail from Mr Porter this morning telling me the good news.” He stuck out that hound-like jaw of his and showed his teeth. “New office, a promotion. They’ll probably get me a company car too. It’ll save me taking the train with the plebs.”
Talking to Will was never exactly a pleasure, but this was becoming a chore.
“Congratulations. There are few people who deserve to get to where Bob ended up as much as you do.”
He offered his best wolf’s grin and dumped the files on the table. I thought that our sparring was over so turned to go.
“Wait, Izzy. I want you to know that I’m going to be a fair boss to you. You and I may have a different sense of humour, and David warned me that the memorial service could have upset some people, but I’m not Bob.”
I couldn’t be sure what was happening. He’d lost the spiteful tone that he normally used and sounded oddly professional. It was as if I was a client he was schmoozing. It was confusing and I didn’t know how to react.
“Actually, you’re not my boss. Suzie is my boss, then Tim, then David. You don’t have to bother yourself with little old me.”
“True. That’s absolutely true, but Bob liked to keep an eye on lower ranked members of staff and I think it would be a tribute to all the good work he’s done, for me to continue with that.”
&nb
sp; He pulled his teeth in self-consciously. “And so, as your superior, I’d like you to spend the morning writing a report on the status of your current projects and what sort of workload you are expecting over the next few months. Make sure it’s really thorough, referencing the office calendar and anything that Tim and Suzie might be able to give you a heads up on. ”
I’d almost believed that he was offering an olive branch. It was the same old Will Gibbons though. Well on his way to becoming the sadist he was replacing.
“Sure, boss. I’ll get right to it.”
I went to sit at my desk, but not before checking that my chair was free of upturned drawing pins. As if having Will as my supervisor wasn’t bad enough, the completely pointless task he’d given me would take up all my time and meant that I couldn’t continue the investigation with Ramesh until our lunchbreak. I hated it when people made me do my job!
“All right,” my dear techy friend said when we were huddled together in the server room a few hours later. “I’ve set up an old computer here with the Tor Browser, just about the best VPN around and a bunch of other safety protocols. Even if someone had hacked this very computer and was remotely spying on us, they’d have a hard time knowing what we were doing.”
“Ra, I’ve told you not to use that kind of language around me. I have no idea what you’re talking about and it makes me feel stupid.”
He looked both put out and sarcastic at the same time. “Well, I’m sorry! What I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve made this computer secure so we can poke around in nasty places we wouldn’t normally go anywhere near.”
I put my hands under my chin and made a face like an angel. “Thank you!”
“Okay, this is the browser we have to use to access the dark web.”
“Yeah, yeah. The dark web. I know all about it. I read the Wikipedia entry at home yesterday.”
He hummed appreciatively. “Great. So then you’ll remember that you can only access these sites if you know where they’re hidden. Regular search engines can’t find them. In reality it’s not all that difficult to track down what you’re looking for, but it’s not as if they put ads on Facebook saying, click here for drugs and guns.”
A Corpse Called Bob Page 17
