by Adele Abbott
I was just about to go into my block of flats when Luke and Rexy came out.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t take him this morning, Mrs,” the boy said. “We had a school trip.”
“That’s okay, but do me a favour, would you?”
“What?”
“Don’t call me Mrs. It’s depressing. Call me Kat.”
“That’s a cool name.”
“Thanks. You’d better get a move on. Rexy’s doing that little shuffle he always does just before he lets rip.”
The aroma in the lift confirmed my suspicion that the dog must have been clenching his buttocks on the way down. Speaking of bad smells, Leo was waiting for me outside the door to my flat.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“That’s no way to greet an old friend.”
“I’ve had a long day. Say what you came to say, and then sling your hook.”
“Do you remember I told you I was staying at my brother’s gaff?”
“Sharing his squat, you mean?”
“Yeah, well we just got evicted.”
“So?” I shrugged.
“Come on, Kat. You wouldn’t see me sleeping on the street, would you?”
I laughed. “Did you seriously think I’d let you stay here?”
“Just for one night. Two tops.”
“Let me see. How can I put this politely? Sod off and never show your face around here again or I’ll be forced to punch it.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“I neither know nor care. How about you go and see Gina? Maybe she’ll take pity on you and let you stay there.”
“Come on, Kat.” He took a couple of steps forward, but stopped dead in his tracks when I raised my fists. “You wouldn’t hit me, would you?”
“If you’re not in that lift within five minutes, you’ll find out.”
“You always were a cow.”
“Love you too, Leo.”
After I’d put away the washing, I checked my phone for messages, only to find a notification on the home screen that I’d never seen before. Whatsapp? Since when did I have that installed? When I clicked on it, I was taken to chats where a message from Zero was waiting for me.
I thought you ought to have this app on your phone too. It’s the easiest way for us to keep in touch. Two things: Sheila called in looking for you. She said she was just passing and wanted to let you know she’ll be at the funeral. Secondly: Use the TimeLogMaster!
I tapped in a quick response.
Okay, Mum.
***
“I haven’t called at a bad time, have I, Kat?”
It was my own fault. I’d told Christine she could call me any time, but I hadn’t anticipated she would choose to do it just as I was about to climb into a hot bath.
“No, it’s fine.” I lied.
“Ralph’s just texted to say he’s going to be late home again.”
“I called in at BetMore on my way home.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t see me. I waited until he went out, and then had a quick look inside the shop.”
“Did you see her?”
“Susan? Yeah.”
“Pretty, isn’t she?”
“So are you.”
“I don’t feel it.”
“Don’t be silly, Christine. This has got nothing to do with you. If Ralph’s playing away, it’s down to him.”
“If? What else could he be up to? He hardly ever worked late until she started there. Couldn’t you follow him?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. He’s only just texted me, so you’ll probably catch them leaving if you’re quick.” She hesitated. “Unless you were already doing something?”
I glanced at the inviting bubbles and the bottle of red wine I’d just uncorked. “Nothing important. I’ll go straight around there now.”
“Thanks, Kat. You’re the best.”
That was me: Simply the best.
I pulled the bath plug, recorked the wine and threw on some clothes. As I sprinted down the road, I began to regret the scampi and chips, which were now sitting a little heavy. I really wasn’t in shape. There had been a time when I used to run five miles every morning, but those days were a dim and distant memory now.
“Whoa!” Graham was forced to step to one side as I shot around the corner. “Are you okay, Kat?”
“Sorry, can’t stop,” I shouted back over my shoulder.
By the time I reached the street where BetMore was located, I was practically gasping for air. If I’d missed Ralph, I was going to be seriously cheesed off.
I was in luck. The lights in the shop were still on, and I could make out two figures inside: Ralph and Susan. I half expected them to disappear into the back together, but then the lights went out, and they both came out of the door. This might be one of the quickest cases I’d ever wrapped up. Snap a few photos of them together, pass them onto Christine, and that should be job done.
It didn’t quite work out like that.
After exchanging a few words, Susan set off in the opposite direction from where I was standing. Ralph began to walk my way, so I ducked into a newsagent.
“Can I get you anything, lady?” The man behind the counter was wearing a string vest and an annoyed expression.
“I’m just browsing.” I picked up the nearest magazine from the rack.
“Train spotter, are you?”
I hadn’t noticed the title of the magazine until that moment: Trains and Tracks Monthly.
“Err, yeah, I’m a big fan of trains. And tracks.” Just then, Ralph walked by the window. I gave it a few seconds, and then replaced the magazine in the rack. “I’ve already read this issue.”
I daren’t follow Ralph too closely because, even though it had been a while, there was still the chance that he’d recognise me. After all, I’d been the one who’d once tried to convince Christine to dump him.
As I expected, he took the tube from Greenwich. Fortunately, the station was busy, so I was able to hide in the crowd further along the platform. The train arrived two minutes later. We took the same carriage, but I stood at the opposite end. A sweet young man offered me his seat. I wasn’t sure if that was because he thought I was pregnant, old or just out of shape. I thanked him, but declined the offer because I wouldn’t have been able to see my quarry if I’d been seated.
I had absolutely no idea where Ralph was headed, but my money was on either Canary Wharf or possibly Bank.
I was wrong on both counts.
After only a couple of stops, he disembarked at Mudchute on the Isle of Dogs. Staying out of sight was going to be a bigger challenge here because it was a much quieter station, so I hung back as long as I dared, and then followed at a distance. Ralph took a left out of the station and stayed on the same road for about ten minutes before taking a right. Luckily, he was so focussed on where he was headed that he never once looked behind him.
When he eventually entered one of the blocks of flats, I sprinted over to the building. An old woman was just stepping out of the only lift, so I presumed he must have taken the stairs. But to which floor?
It was time to throw caution to the wind. If he spotted me, so be it. There was no sign of him on the first floor or the second, but then, on the third floor, just as my lungs were about to collapse, I caught sight of him at the far end of the landing; someone had just opened a door and let him inside. Doing my best to look as casual as possible, I walked along the corridor and past the door, making a note of the number as I did.
Back on the DLR, I fired up Whatsapp, and sent a message to Zero. Let’s see if he could work his magic and come up with the occupier’s name.
***
I’d just got off the DLR at Lewford when my phone rang; it was Christine, eager to know what I’d found out.
“He isn’t with Susan.”
“Are you sure? This all began when she started working there.”
“I’m positive. I got to the betting
shop just as they were coming out. They went in opposite directions.”
“Maybe they saw you?”
“They didn’t.”
“Where did he go, then?”
“I’m not sure,” I lied.
“What do you mean?”
“I lost him in the crowds. Sorry.”
“I’ll ask the little toerag when he gets home.”
“You could, but if he is cheating on you, do you really think he’ll tell you the truth? Just play it cool for now.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Call me when he says he’s going to be late again. I might have more luck the next time.”
“Okay. Thanks, Kat.”
I deliberately hadn’t told her about the flat in the Isle of Dogs because I didn’t want her rushing around there. I needed to find out who it belonged to and what Ralph was up to first.
***
I’d just rerun the bath, and poured myself a glass of wine when my phone rang again. This could not be happening. If it was Christine, she’d get short shrift and no mistake.
It wasn’t her.
“Mum?”
“Jen said you were going to call me. She said you promised.”
“And I intended to. In fact, I was going to do it later this evening.”
“You never were a good liar, Kathleen.”
I’d long since given up on trying to get her to call me Kat.
“I’ve been really busy.”
“What are you going to do now that your boss has been murdered?” So much for Jen not saying anything—the little snitch. “I’ve always said London isn’t a safe place to live, haven’t I?”
“It’s really not half as bad as you imagine.”
“I don’t know why you can’t get yourself back up here.”
“I’m going to take over the agency.”
“Why would you want to do that? There are plenty of jobs around here at the moment. Rosy Carter reckons they’re setting on at Lidl, just down the road.”
“I’d be no good in a supermarket. I wouldn’t last a week.”
“There are lots of eligible young men up here too. If you played your cards right, you could be married with a youngster in a few years’ time.”
“Sorry, Mum, there’s someone at the door.” I moved the phone away from my mouth, and shouted to the non-existent visitor. “I’m coming!”
“Kathleen. You should at least think about it.”
“I will. Got to dash. Love you.”
Chapter 12
This wasn’t exactly the start to the day I’d hoped for. Although I wasn’t a great believer in Best Before dates, I couldn’t ignore the smell coming from the milk bottle. Nor the fact that the contents had solidified.
I’d eaten cornflakes dry before, but it wasn’t fun. That left me with two options: Nip out and buy a fresh bottle of milk, or treat myself to a breakfast at Geordie’s. As I still had most of my slot machine winnings, the latter option won out.
When I stepped out of the flat, young Luke was just getting into the lift with Rexy. I was about to shout and ask him to hold the doors when I remembered the flatulence factor. And anyway, a walk down the stairs would be good for me.
I’d only walked a few yards down the street when someone called my name.
“Kat! Where were you going in such a hurry yesterday?” It was Graham. Again.
“Do you always sneak up on people like that?”
“Only pretty young women.”
“You do realise how creepy that sounds, right?”
“Sorry. That came out wrong. I meant—”
“I’d put that spade down before you dig yourself any deeper.”
“Good idea. So, why were you in such a hurry yesterday?”
“I was working on a case.”
“Chasing a bad guy?”
“Something like that. Have you lost something?”
“Sorry?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen you without Miles. Did you leave him in the park by mistake?”
“I woke at six and couldn’t get back to sleep, so we took an earlier walk. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to the park at my regular time now because the only person that I’m interested in bumping into doesn’t go there anymore.”
“I’ll tell the Widow Manning you’re missing her.”
“You’re a regular comedian. Where are you off to, anyway? You haven’t started work already, have you?”
“I’ve run out of milk, so I’m going to treat myself to breakfast at Geordie’s.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“I can’t very well stop you.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re ever going to let me take you for a drink, so you could at least let me buy you breakfast.”
“You can buy the coffee.”
“Okay, deal. I’ve never actually been in Geordie’s before. What’s it like?”
“If you’re on a health kick, it’s probably not for you. But if you want to line your stomach with grease, then you’ll love it.”
“I take it the owner is from up north?”
“What do you consider to be up north? I assume you’ve never been north of Watford Gap?”
“I went to the Lake District on a hiking holiday once.”
“That doesn’t count. I’m from Leeds and I consider myself a northerner.”
“I assume Geordie is from Newcastle?”
“There is no Geordie. The owner’s name is Larry and he’s from Liverpool.”
“Why is the café called Geordie’s, then?”
“The previous owner was a Geordie. When Larry bought it, he decided to keep the name.”
After Graham had embarrassed himself by asking for an Earl Grey, and being told it was PG Tips—take it or leave it, we found a quiet table close to one of the windows that looked out onto the high street.
“Earl Grey?” I mocked.
“It never occurred to me they wouldn’t have it.”
“That, right there, is a sign you spend all your time in poncy, over-priced coffee shops and tea rooms.”
“When did you move down here from Leeds?”
“As soon as I left school.”
“Why here?”
“I wanted to get away from home. London sounded like a good idea.”
“Was it?”
“With hindsight, it was a crazy thing to do. All I had were the few clothes I’d thrown into a case and the bit of money I’d saved.”
“Where did you live?”
“With my Grandma Vi. She’s my father’s mother. I lived there until I’d found a job and could afford to pay rent on a place of my own.”
“What did your parents say about you coming down here?”
“My father was already dead by then. My mother threw a fit; she hated the idea of me moving to London, but she hated the idea of me moving in with Vi even more. My mother and father split up when I was ten, and my mother has barely spoken to Vi since then.”
“But you came down here anyway?”
“Yeah.”
Just then, Larry brought two huge fry-ups and dropped them onto the table with his usual grace.
“I thought I’d ordered the regular?” Graham stared at the plate, which was piled high with cholesterol.
“This is the regular,” I assured him. “If we’d had the large, we’d have had to eat at separate tables.” I stabbed one of the sausages, and took a bite. “No one does breakfasts quite like Larry.”
“How did you get into the P.I. business?”
“I just kind of fell into it. I’d worked a number of part-time jobs in cafes and bars mainly, but then I saw an ad for someone to work as a general assistant for a private investigator. A dogsbody, really. The money was rubbish, but at least it was full-time.”
“Have you had any training?”
I laughed. “I’m pretty sure the Open University doesn’t do P.I. courses. No, I just learned on the job. At first, I was mainly doing research, but after a while Roy g
ot me doing bits and bobs of other stuff. It just grew from there.”
“It must be interesting, though?”
“It has its moments. Anyway, enough about me. What are you doing in Lewford? You look more like a Hampstead kind of a guy.”
He grinned. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m going by the look of terror when you saw Larry put that plate in front of you. You couldn’t possibly have lived around these parts all of your life without mastering the fry-up.”
“You’re half right. I haven’t lived here long, but I certainly couldn’t afford Hampstead prices.”
“Where are you from originally, then?”
“Canterbury.”
“Canterbury? You’re not even a Londoner.”
“Neither are you.”
“I’m more of one than you are by the sound of it. How come you ended up living here?”
“I moved here when Sharon and I split up.”
“Sharon?” I grinned. “Was that really her name?”
“What’s wrong with Sharon?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the name Sharon, but she doesn’t sound like the kind of woman that you’d marry. I would have expected a Felicity or a Camilla.”
“She has a job in the city, at one of the major banks.”
“Doing what?”
“She’s an accountant.”
“A solicitor and an accountant. Sounds like a match made in hell.”
“We had a flat in Limehouse until we split up.”
“Where does she live now?”
“She’s still there.”
“With her new fella?”
“Yeah.”
“And you ended up here. How come you didn’t hightail it back to Canterbury?”
“I like living in London. I’m not sure I could ever go back to Canterbury now.”
“So, it’s just you and Miles?”
“Yes. Like I said, Rupert is allergic to dogs, so I had to take Miles.”
“Rupert is the guy who’s sleeping in your old bed, I take it?”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.”
“Sharon and Rupert? I can’t see that lasting very long. Maybe she’ll take you back when it all goes pear-shaped.”
