(2013) The Catch Read online

  She was given two sheets of paper. Concerned that her hands would shake, she clutched the papers tightly until she had sat down and could rest them on her knees.

  Each image was a full-face portrait, rendered in a slightly unreal, cartoon-like style. Cate squinted, trying not to overdo the austere concentration; at the same time anxious that she didn’t betray any flicker of recognition.

  She saw a definite likeness to Robbie and Dan, but realised it was largely because she’d been expecting to see them. The closer she looked, the more she noticed details that didn’t match. It struck her then that Robbie had changed his hairstyle because of the e-fit – which was, she had to admit, a wise move on his part.

  ‘Anything you’d alter?’ Thomsett asked.

  After a respectable pause, she placed a finger on the one that represented her brother. ‘His face was longer, with a narrower chin.’

  Avery snorted, as though he knew precisely what she was doing. She forced herself to meet his gaze, until he shrugged and said, ‘What about the other one?’

  Dan’s likeness wasn’t as accurate. Cate wondered if that was because the barmaid had been smitten with Robbie.

  ‘Darker hair, perhaps. And the nose was fatter, sort of bulbous.’

  ‘Here ...’ Thomsett gently took the paper, brought out a pencil and sketched the changes, while Avery went on staring at Cate with a peculiar half-smile on his lips. Thomsett showed her the results. ‘Any good?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll get these updated.’ And then, in an offhand tone, he added, ‘I paid your brother a visit yesterday.’

  ****

  Cate’s mind went blank. She hadn’t warned Robbie in advance, but surely it would seem odd if he hadn’t said something to her?

  ‘He mentioned it last night.’

  ‘I got the impression he’s quite sore about the loss of that three thousand pounds.’

  ‘Is he? I suppose it must seem ironic, handing over the money to somebody who dies so soon afterwards ...’ She tailed off, aware that she was straying on to dangerous ground.

  ‘That’s probably it.’ Thomsett leaned towards her and tapped one of the images. ‘You don’t think that looks a bit like your brother?’

  ‘Him?’ She made a show of examining it again. ‘Vaguely, I suppose. The man I saw wasn’t as tall as Robbie. He was better-looking, too.’

  ‘Took a shine to him, eh?’ Avery piped up. ‘You didn’t get his number, by any chance?’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’

  Thomsett frowned, possibly unhappy with his colleague’s intervention. ‘We’re told that Mr Scott was with his girlfriend on Tuesday night. A “Bree Tyler”.’

  Cate shrugged. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Have you met Mrs Tyler?’

  Thomsett’s emphasis on Mrs was subtle, but not so subtle that she wasn’t intended to notice. Cate raised a hand, palm out.

  ‘That’s an area of his life I steer well clear of.’

  ‘Something of a playboy, is he?’ Avery said.

  ‘Well, women seem to go for him. I can’t say I see his appeal myself, but there you are. He’s in no hurry to settle down.’

  Thomsett smiled. ‘Do I sense that you disapprove?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just envious.’

  ****

  It was slightly too intimate a disclosure for the circumstances, and an awkward silence followed. Cate checked her watch. ‘I’d better be going.’

  Thomsett got up. ‘Thanks for your help. I’ll run these amendments past the other witnesses.’

  Cate nodded, wondering what would happen if the barmaid disagreed. Would the detectives attribute it to witness unreliability, or would they suspect a more sinister motive?

  Thomsett led the way out, with Cate behind him. As they passed through the hall, Avery murmured in her ear: ‘A bit of friendly advice, love. Lie to us, or hold something back, and we’ll destroy you.’

  Cate flinched, but was in control of her expression by the time she turned. She faced him down, and said quietly, ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Fair enough. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.’

  Thomsett was opening the front door, apparently unaware of the exchange. Cate wondered if he deliberately let his subordinate do the dirty work.

  He stepped outside, then turned back. ‘Are you aware there’s a man in a grey Toyota Avensis watching your house?’

  ‘What?’ A flare of panic, which subsided when Cate leaned out and saw the Avensis. The car must have been new, but the occupant was sadly familiar.

  ‘That’s my ex-husband.’

  ‘Is it?’ Thomsett sounded grave. ‘Would you like me to have a word with him?’

  ‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but I appreciate the offer.’

  ‘All right.’ He stepped back to let Avery past. ‘You have my number. Please don’t hesitate to call me.’

  ****

  Cate watched them drive away. Only then did Martin extract himself from the Avensis, his limbs as cumbersome as ever. Looking shamefaced but also slightly peeved, he advanced on Cate, who remained in the doorway, her expression hard and unfriendly.

  ‘I’m already late for work, so this had better be good.’

  Martin gestured in the direction the detectives had taken. ‘Who the hell were they?’

  ‘Jehovah’s Witnesses.’

  ‘No, they weren’t.’

  ‘Insurance salesmen?’

  ‘You don’t want to tell me, I get it. But I saw how you were looking at the tall one. You didn’t mention him on Tuesday.’

  Cate laughed with disbelief. ‘What do you want, Martin?’

  ‘You said you were going to call me.’

  ‘I’ve been busy this week.’

  ‘So I can see. So what does he do? Another solicitor?’

  ‘No. He’s a detective sergeant.’

  That had the required effect. Martin blinked a few times, nodding stiffly. ‘A police officer?’

  ‘That’s right. And he noticed you sitting there.’

  ‘Wh-what did he say?’

  ‘Not much. I told him I can deal with you myself.’

  ‘Oh.’ Martin had never been particularly good at thinking on his feet, and now he looked completely lost. Cate almost – almost – felt sorry for him.

  ‘How’s Janine?’

  Martin looked morose. ‘She keeps throwing up, but that’s normal, isn’t it?’

  ‘She must be touched by your concern.’

  ‘The bathroom stinks,’ he said, as though that were reason enough to resent his wife’s condition. ‘Look, I’m sorry we’ve got off on the wrong foot again—’

  ‘Yeah. Anyone would think we weren’t supposed to be together.’

  ‘You can joke about it, but maybe we shouldn’t have given up so easily.’

  ‘Nobody “gave up”. You ran off and slept with another woman.’

  ‘And I’ve apologised, haven’t I?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, possibly because he knew it wasn’t true. ‘Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tomorrow evening, then? I’ll tell Janine I’m out with my brother ...’

  Cate’s sigh was loud enough to cut him off. ‘I can’t deal with this right now. Just leave me alone, Martin. Otherwise I’ll take up my friend’s offer to have an official word with you.’

  CHAPTER 41

  Robbie made it to the office before nine, feeling smugly pleased that he’d roused Jed and pressured him to find somewhere to offload an unwanted car. Too sleepy to ask questions, Jed had muttered something about a place in Hampshire.

  When his mother came in, Robbie mocked her for being late and endured her amazement that he was in at all. She claimed to have been working from home since seven. This was just a quick visit to collect a contract before heading off to East Grinstead.

  ‘Got my eye on a block of flats coming up for auction.’

  ‘It’s out of our ideal area again, though.’
<
br />   ‘Yes, Robbie. But you remember that phrase about beggars and choosers?’

  She was pulling a face at him, so he pulled one back. He could have told her he knew that phrase only too well.

  He’d already had a text from Bree: Have you called her yet?

  ****

  He ignored it for a while, and actually got some work done. Sorted a couple of maintenance headaches. Then another text: Call her, Robbie. £200. EASY monee ;-)

  Bree was right. With a heavy heart he found the number. Maureen Heath, husband in Portugal. He was some kind of builder. Maureen was in her early fifties, a mother of four grown-up children. Robbie wondered idly if any of the four were female.

  He’d always been choosy about his sexual partners, even the one-night stands. Of course he’d made exceptions, usually when the evening was wearing on and the choice was limited. It never bothered him much because he was invariably off his head on the good old party powder: the phrase beloved of those in the know was Never mind the ‘beer goggles’, try the ‘coke glasses’.

  But this would be different. He’d have to be sober, clear-headed. Professional. What Bree had in mind for him was whole new territory: sex as a chore.

  Christ, if he wanted that he’d get married.

  He tapped out the number. When it went to voicemail he held his nerve and left a brief, grudging message. Maybe his tone would put her off ...

  ****

  She called back a few minutes later. She had a throaty voice, not unattractive, though something about it gave him an impression of heft. And Robbie definitely liked his women slim: that was non-negotiable.

  ‘Mr Scott? I wonder if I could make use of your services?’

  Seemed a funny way to put it, but he supposed he should be glad she wasn’t playing coy.

  ‘Absolutely. When’s a good time for you?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘For me to come round. I assume we’ll meet at your place, or did you want to book a hotel?’

  There was a pause. Then she said, ‘I suspect we’re at cross purposes here. Do you handle property rentals?’

  ‘Yeah. Isn’t this Maureen?’

  ‘No. My name is Cheryl Wilson. I’d like to engage your services to rent out my brother’s house. Well, technically it’s mine now,’ she added grimly. ‘My brother died.’

  ‘Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that.’ Relaxing back in his chair, Robbie went into full-on smarm mode. ‘Delighted to help. May I ask how you found us?’

  ‘Certainly. You rented it out once before. I have the paperwork here. A farmhouse near Ashurst. Hank O’Brien?’

  ****

  Robbie nearly tipped the chair over. He grabbed the desk and righted himself, scrabbling to keep hold of the phone.

  ‘Mr Scott?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry.’

  ‘I wondered if I’d lost you there.’

  He gave a bark of insincere laughter. He was fighting an impulse to ask whether this was a joke. Nothing in her manner suggested she was anything but serious.

  Unless it was the police, hoping to trick him into an indiscretion.

  He said, ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your brother.’

  ‘Horrible business. Knocked down by a car, and the evil buggers didn’t stop.’

  Buggers, plural. A figure of speech, or was this deliberate, to see if he contradicted her?

  ‘Horrible. So, er, how do you want to proceed?’

  ‘There’s still probate to be granted, but I might as well get the ball rolling. The market’s not right for a sale at present, and I have no desire to live here. Renting seems the best option.’

  ‘Of course. I’d better have a look round, in case anything’s changed since last time.’

  ‘Splendid. Tomorrow morning any good?’

  ‘Uh, where are we ...?’ He pretended to check a diary. ‘Saturday, ah, yes. Is eleven o’clock convenient?’ Robbie wondered if she could hear him smiling. He felt increasingly sure that this was the real deal.

  ‘Eleven’s fine,’ Hank’s sister told him.

  ‘Great. See you tomorrow.’

  The door opened and Indira came in. ‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she said.

  ‘Indeed I do.’ He hammered out a drum roll on the desk. ‘What’s that old saying? May you live in interesting times.’

  CHAPTER 42

  Dan would have called in sick on Friday, but for the poor example he’d be setting to his brother. It was a good job he didn’t, because when he got to the shop he learned that Hayley had a stomach bug and wasn’t coming in.

  He tried phoning her but there was no reply. This felt like fate at work. Disaster would pile upon disaster – unless or until he did the right thing.

  It was never far from his mind, the idea that he should give himself up. Then he had two options. The first was to tell them the actual truth: perhaps it wasn’t so unlikely that Robbie had grabbed the wheel ...

  Except that Robbie would deny every word. So Dan’s other option was to say he had done it. Forget trying to implicate Robbie: just take full responsibility and get it over with. In a strange way this seemed like the more honest course of action. More honourable, certainly.

  But what about his aunt? Did he have the right to inflict so much pain with what would be essentially a lie?

  ****

  Dan couldn’t decide. His brother’s behaviour was now an aggravating factor, with Joan having confided that she was worried sick about Louis. Blaming herself, even, that she had failed as a surrogate parent.

  Although Dan had done his best to reassure her, he shared her concern. He hadn’t mentioned the incident with the taxi driver, but there was no disguising the state of Louis’s inebriation when he finally stumbled in at eleven o’clock last night, having ignored various texts and calls.

  After making sure he was all right, Joan had swiftly retreated to her bed. Louis had done the same, but in the early hours Dan had woken to the sound of his brother being violently sick.

  He’d knocked on the bathroom door, but the only response was a sombre: ‘Go away.’ Louis sounded like he’d been crying, and Dan decided it was better to leave him.

  In the morning Joan checked his college timetable and found that Louis wasn’t due in until ten-thirty.

  ‘I’ll give him till nine. Do him a nice egg-and-bacon sandwich.’

  ‘You know, we really don’t deserve you,’ Dan said.

  ‘Oh, nonsense.’ She smiled, but he could see the anguish in her eyes. And now he had to add to the burden of anxiety.

  ‘You haven’t noticed any money going missing, have you?’

  ‘Money? No, why?’

  Dan saw the shock as it dawned on her. With hindsight it was what troubled him most about last night: not the loutish behaviour but the fact that Louis could afford to stay out drinking and doing God knows what else. He’d had a Saturday job at HMV, but had walked out a couple of months ago. Since then his only disposable income had been fifteen pounds a week in pocket money that came from his trust fund, set up with part of the proceeds of their parents’ estate.

  Joan looked heartbroken. ‘You both know where I leave my purse. I’m not in the habit of counting every penny, but I think I could tell if someone was helping themselves.’

  ‘Okay. Sorry I asked.’ Dan kissed her cheek on his way out, and made sure he hugged her a little more firmly than usual.

  ****

  The next instalment of grief came mid-morning: a text from Cate, wanting him to call her. Willie Denham was on the prowl, so Dan had an anxious wait until the old man made himself scarce and he could slip away to the office.

  ‘Those detectives were round this morning to get my opinion on the e-fit pictures.’

  ‘How did they look?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. Because I know you, I could see the resemblance. But I suggested a couple of changes that made them less like the two of you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dan said. ‘I hope that’s not putting you at risk.’

  �
��So do I. Every time I open my mouth it feels like I’m digging a deeper and deeper hole.’

  ‘I appreciate it. I’m sure Robbie does, too.’

  ‘Really?’ Her sigh was almost savage in its intensity. ‘It feels like he expects us to ease his path through life, without ever accepting responsibility for what he does. The Teflon man.’

  ‘I agree. But I don’t think you could ever disown him, any more than I could with Louis.’ When he explained what he’d witnessed last night, Cate was astonished.

  ‘Louis was always such a sweetheart. And he worships you.’

  ‘Didn’t sound like it when he was telling me to piss off.’

  ‘That’s in the heat of the moment.’ She sighed again. ‘The thing about a family member is that you have to see the best in them when nobody else does. So if you can keep faith with Louis, I’ll try and do the same with Robbie. Deal?’

  Dan managed a laugh. ‘If you say so.’

  CHAPTER 43

  A visit to the barmaid was exactly what Stemper needed to restore his equilibrium. When it came down to it, extracting information was the essence of his job. It meant he could lead, not follow. Influence events from the beginning, rather than simply react to them.

  The break-in last night had been a shambles, and he had admitted as much to the Blakes. Patricia was astounded by the news of the burglary. Predictably, she viewed it in the context of a larger conspiracy.

  ‘I’m almost certain it’s unrelated,’ Stemper had told her. ‘I’ll know very soon.’

  ‘And what about Jerry?’

  ‘I’ve told him to keep watching the farmhouse.’

  Her voice dripping with scorn, Patricia had said, ‘If you think he can be trusted to do that properly.’

  ****

  Bernard Quills had been happy to give Stemper a key, saying he understood perfectly that some of his guests liked to stay out late. Stemper had returned at four a.m., only to encounter Quills on the first-floor landing, wrapped in a bright red silk kimono. There was no way the man could have heard Stemper come in, but they both went through the motions of pretending that Quills had been disturbed in his sleep.