by Adele Abbott
Murder
On Account
Published by Implode Publishing Ltd
© Implode Publishing Ltd 2019
The right of Adele Abbott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 1
“Is this R.K. Investigations?” The young delivery guy had a mouthful of gum and a face full of spots. “I’ve got a parcel for Roy King.”
“That’s us.” Sheila was on her feet before my brain had even processed his question. I wasn’t at my best because I’d been working undercover all night.
“What do you guys do?” He blew a gum bubble. “Are you like private detectives and stuff?”
“We’re mainly the stuff,” I said. “Roy’s our boss; he’s the P.I.”
“It must be a cool job.”
“The coolest.” Yawn.
Sheila signed for the parcel using his hand-held gizmo.
“I wouldn’t mind being a P.I,” he said. “It must be crazy exciting.”
“There’s plenty of the crazy, but not so much of the exciting.”
“See ya, then.” He scooted off.
“That poor young man.” Sheila sighed.
“Delusional, you mean?”
“I meant his acne. Poor lad.”
“What’s in the parcel? More cigars?”
She nodded. “If Roy could see what smoking has done to Don, he wouldn’t touch these things.”
“Sorry, I should have asked you earlier. How is Don?”
“Oh, you know. Pretty much the same.”
Sheila’s husband had been seriously ill for months now, and although caring for him had taken its toll on her, she rarely complained.
“You shouldn’t have to come in on a Saturday,” I said. “You’ve got enough to contend with at home.”
“I don’t mind. The extra money comes in handy. When Roy remembers to pay me, that is.”
“What do you mean when? Doesn’t he always pay you?”
“I had to remind him that I’d worked overtime last month. He probably just forgot.”
“He was trying it on, more like.”
“Why are you in today, Kat? You were working all last night.”
“Roy said he wanted to see me this morning, but if he doesn’t get here soon, he can whistle. I intend to be wrapped up in my bed by midday come what may.”
Just then, the door burst open, and in walked Roy, dressed in his trademark Hawaiian shirt, shorts, flip flops and obligatory Rolex; the man had a fetish for them. He smelled of last night’s booze, and as always, had a cigar in the corner of his mouth.
“Nice of you to bother,” I said. “I’ve been up all night, but I still managed to get here on time.”
“Shut it, Kat.”
“Smoking isn’t allowed in the building,” I reminded him.
“Says who?”
“It’s the law.”
“Cigars don’t count. And anyway, I don’t pay you two to sit around gabbing.”
“You don’t pay me at all for Saturdays, and it sounds like you only pay Sheila when the mood takes you.”
“Have you booked any more time on the Mason case this week?”
“It’s Marston, and no, I haven’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was on another case last night, as you well know. And because it’s a complete waste of time. Mr Marston isn’t having an affair.”
“I don’t care if he’s having an affair or not. I just need you to book as much time on the case as you can.”
“Shouldn’t we just tell the client the truth?”
“Don’t be so naive. She doesn’t want to hear the truth; she just wants proof her husband is cheating.”
“Even if he isn’t?”
“Precisely. And what’s happening on the Premax case?”
“Like I said, I was there all night, but it was a waste of time. No one stole anything from those premises last night.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I would have seen it if they had.”
“Unless you’d fallen asleep.”
“If you want to do it yourself, Roy, be my guest.”
“Watch your mouth, Kat. I can replace you any time I like.”
“Don’t have a go at me. I’ve had no sleep, and I’m in a foul mood.”
“And I’m supposed to care why? I want you at Premax again on Monday night. And what about the Fulton case?”
“How am I supposed to work on that if I’m working the nightshift at Premax? I can’t work twenty-four seven. You’ll have to put someone else on it.”
“What’s wrong with working the Fulton case tomorrow?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“So what?”
“I can’t work tomorrow. My kid sister is coming down for the day.”
“That’s not my problem. I need you on the Fulton case.”
“There’s no way I’m working tomorrow.”
“If you don’t, don’t bother coming in on Monday. Or ever again.” He turned to Sheila. “Are those my cigars?” He snatched the parcel from her before she had a chance to answer.
“Are you staying to lend a hand, Roy?” I said.
“I can’t. I have to go through the books because this place is haemorrhaging money, and I don’t know why.”
“Probably all your liquid lunches.”
“Stop running your mouth off, Kat. Where are the books, Sheila?”
“In my drawer, but I haven’t had time to bring them up to date.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I could get them done by next weekend.”
“Just give them to me, would you?”
She took several moth-eaten journals from her desk and handed them to him.
“I’ll expect a report on the Fulton case by Monday, Kat.” And with that, he stormed out.
“Screw you,” I shouted at the closed door.
“Those books aren’t up to date,” Sheila said.
“Don’t worry about it. He’ll be too busy sacking me to worry about you or the books.”
“What are you going to do about your sister?”
“What do you think? I haven’t seen her since Christmas. I’m not going to cancel just because Roy’s got his shorts in a twist.”
***
Two hours later, the door flew open again.
“Is he in?” Westy worked for Roy on an as-needed basis. The man was six-six, and built like a tank.
I spoke up because I knew Sheila was intimidated by Westy. “He popped his head in earlier, but he’s gone now.”
“Did he leave my money?” He glared at Sheila, who handled all the accounts.
/> “Sorry, Mr West. He didn’t leave it with me.”
“That’s twice this month he’s stiffed me. I’m not standing for it, do you hear?”
“Leave off her, Westy.” I stood up. “It’s not her fault that Roy didn’t leave your money.”
“Yeah, well, I need it.”
“You’d better take it up with Roy, then.”
“Don’t worry, I will. And if I don’t get it, he’ll be sorry.” With that, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
“I pity Roy if he doesn’t have his money when Westy catches up with him,” I said. “What has Westy been working on for Roy, anyway?”
Sheila shrugged. “He hasn’t got around to telling me yet.”
***
I loved it when Jen came down to see me, but I really wished she wouldn’t insist on getting into St Pancras at stupid o’clock in the morning, especially on a Sunday. She’d caught the six o’clock train from Leeds because apparently it was much cheaper.
I spotted her at the top of the escalator; she’d had her hair cut into a short bob.
“Kat!” She waved.
“You look great.” I pulled her in for a hug.
“You look like crap.”
“Thanks, but what do you expect if you insist on arriving in the middle of the night? I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
“Do you? Rick hates it.”
“Of course he doesn’t. That hubby of yours loves every square inch of you. And how’s my favourite niece?”
“Take a look.” She held out her phone and brought up the cutest photo you ever did see.
“She’s grown.”
“She’s becoming a proper little madam. Mum says she reminds her of you at that age.”
“How is Mum?”
“The same. She said to give you her love.”
“Did you get anything to eat on the train?”
“Just a cup of tea.”
“Good because I’m starving.”
“Shall we go to Starbucks?” She pointed to the other side of the concourse.
“I’m not paying their prices, and besides, I need something more substantial. We could go to Joe’s.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s a greasy spoon near to my office. It’s only five minutes up the road.”
“I haven’t come all the way down here to go to a greasy spoon. I’m here for the glamour and bright lights.”
Whenever Jen visited, which admittedly wasn’t all that often, we ended up going to places I wouldn’t dream of going by myself. I generally tried to avoid the tourist hotspots like the plague. Normally, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged me to Oxford Street, but that’s the first place Jen made a beeline for.
“I wish we lived down here.” She couldn’t make her mind up which shop to drag me into next.
“You’d be begging to go back up north after a month.”
“I envy you, Kat.”
“Why would you envy me? You’re the one with the doting husband and the beautiful daughter. To say nothing of the three-bed detached.”
“Yeah, but your life is so much more exciting. I tell everyone that my sister is a private investigator.”
“I’m not though. I’m just a dogsbody, and after tomorrow, I’ll probably be a dogsbody looking for a new job.”
“Why?”
“Roy wanted me to work today.”
“You’re not going to get the sack because of me, are you? You should have called and cancelled.”
“No way I was going to do that.”
“You can’t afford to lose your job. What will you do?”
“I’ll be fine. Chances are, he’ll have forgotten by morning.”
***
Jen had walked me ragged all day, and by three o’clock, I’d had enough. “Can we call it a day?”
“You never were much of a shopper, Kat.”
“I’ve never had the money to be one. Do you want to see Vi while you’re down here?”
“Are you kidding? As far as Mum’s concerned, Vi is the devil incarnate. If Mum found out that I’d visited her, she’d never talk to me again.”
“Surely that’s an incentive, isn’t it?”
“Mum’s not half as bad as you make her out to be.”
“You didn’t say that when you were living at home. You only married Rick to get away from her.”
“I’m still not going to Vi’s.”
“She doesn’t bite you know. How long is it since you saw her?”
“I don’t remember. It must be five or six years.”
“She’s the only grandparent we have left. She won’t be here forever.”
“How old is she?”
“I’m not sure. She must be close to eighty by now.”
“Do you still see her every day?”
“Not since I moved out of her place. It’s usually once a week these days. She still talks about Dad a lot.”
“I don’t even remember him.”
“That’s hardly surprising. You were only five when he decided to sling his hook.”
“Do you remember him?”
“I’m not sure. I feel like I know a lot about him, but most of that is probably just what Vi has told me.”
“Why don’t you call her Grandma?”
“Because she’d kill me if I did.”
“I don’t know how you do this journey twice a day, Kat.”
We were on the DLR, headed for Lewford.
“This is the quiet period. You should see it at rush hour during the week.”
“Why don’t you get somewhere closer to your office?”
“I can’t afford anywhere closer. Truth be told, I can barely afford to live here.”
“Is your new flat any better than the last place you had?”
“It’s not as damp.”
“That flat was horrible. I don’t know how you lived there.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers. When I moved out of Vi’s, it was the best I could afford. Come on, the next stop is us.”
As we walked along the road towards my place, Jen’s eyes were everywhere, as though she was expecting someone to jump out and steal her bag at any minute.
“You’ll be okay.” I tried to reassure her. “It’s perfectly safe around here. In daylight, anyway.”
“It’s okay for you, Kat. You’ve got your kickboxing and the judo.”
“I haven’t done any judo since I moved down here, and I’m lucky if I get to go kickboxing more than a couple of times a month these days.”
“I wish I’d done that fighting stuff now.”
“I tried to get you to come with me when we were kids, but you were more interested in tap dancing.”
“It was ballet, not tap.”
“I remember all your trophies. You used to get one just for showing up.”
“You were jealous because Mum used to come and watch my competitions.”
“She didn’t come and see any of mine.”
“She was scared you were going to get hurt. You really should give her a call, you know.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon. Very soon.”
“You said that the last time we spoke.”
“And I meant it, but I’ve been crazy busy.”
“One phone call wouldn’t kill you, Kat. Or better still, you could come up and see her. You can stay at mine if you can’t bear the thought of sleeping in your old room.”
“I reckon Rick would have something to say about that.”
“I don’t know where you get the idea that he doesn’t like you.”
“He hates my guts. He’s scared to death my evil ways are going to rub off on you.”
“Now you’re just being stupid.”
“Spare some change, ladies?”
Jen looked sympathetically at the man sitting on the bottom step of the house, six doors down from my block of flats. Lying next to him, fast asleep, was a black Labrador. In between them
, was a hat containing coins and at least one bank note.
“Get lost, Walt.” I grabbed Jen’s arm before she could take out her purse.
“You’ve got really hard since you moved down here,” she said. “Why would you speak to a homeless guy like that?”
“Because he isn’t homeless.”
“That’s typical of you, Kat. You think everyone is on the con, don’t you?”
“Not everyone, but Walt definitely is. Do you see that house?”
“The one where he’s sitting on the steps?”
“Yeah, that’s where he lives.”
“You mean he sleeps in the doorway at night?”
“No, I mean that’s his house. He owns it.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“It’s true. If the weather’s fine, he comes out at seven o’clock, just in time to catch the morning rush hour, then he goes back inside for a coffee at ten. He’s back on the steps at ten-thirty until lunchtime. Same in the afternoons.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Positive. When I first moved in, I threw him some change most mornings. That was until Robbie put me wise.”
“Who’s Robbie?”
“Do you see the greengrocer’s shop across the road?”
“Yeah?”
“Robbie owns that. He’s known Walt since they were kids.”
“Wow! He’s got some nerve, begging in front of his own house.”
“He makes it pay too. Mind you, that’s mainly down to The Brick.”
“What brick?”
“That’s the lab.”
“The dog’s called Brick?”
“He’s not called Brick. He’s called The Brick.”
“Why is he called The Brick?”
“Beats me.”
“Haven’t you ever been tempted to ask?”
“I did once, but Walt said it would cost me twenty quid to find out, and I wasn’t that interested.”
“Is this it?” Jen stopped dead in her tracks only a few steps inside my flat.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean, I—err, it’s just that it’s even smaller than your last place, isn’t it?”
“It was a choice between small and dry, or large and damp. I couldn’t afford large and dry.”
“Is this the lounge as well as the kitchen, then?”
