(2013) The Catch Page 23

  Before returning to Brighton, he made a detour into London. It was part reconnaissance, part thinking time; and tremendously valuable on both counts.

  The late nights were beginning to wear on him. Over the years Stemper had conditioned himself to get by on very little sleep – often just three or four hours a night for the duration of an assignment. But once this was done he would return to the small town near Ipswich and recharge his batteries under the watchful but blissfully ignorant eye of Debbie Winwood.

  And when that assignment was complete, he would take a proper holiday. By that stage a spell abroad might be advisable in any case.

  ****

  It was past two a.m. when he reached Kemptown, the narrow street on the hill deserted save for an urban fox, which paused by a discarded fast-food carton, waiting patiently until Stemper had made himself scarce.

  Before entering the guest house he glanced down the street, saw the dull black gleam of the sea and felt for a moment the pull of its secret world. This was the hour when his father would have stalked the streets, having slipped away after the show to one of the many private drinking clubs that had flourished in those days. Hours later he would come in drunk, and his vigorous review of the night’s performance would commence.

  There was no sign of Quills, but Stemper expected him to be awake. The door on the first floor marked ‘Private’ opened at his touch. On the other side of the door the key was sitting in the lock.

  Stemper smiled. This was an invitation that, in all probability, he should decline. But there was no denying that Quills, as a result of his inquisitive nature and his susceptibility to male charm, could one day pose a problem. And that problem wasn’t going to resolve itself.

  ****

  Some of the skills he’d acquired from his father had little practical application. Juggling, for instance. Or tap dancing.

  Others were of far greater benefit, and none more so than hypnosis. Stemper had shown a natural aptitude from the beginning. He found it almost absurdly easy to put someone under. Along with his rather bland appearance, he had exactly the right manner – calmly authoritative – and the ideal tone of voice with which to lull and soothe.

  He made his way along the hall without resorting to lights. The first door he opened revealed a small, neat living room. The bedroom was next to it, lit by a single lamp draped in muslin.

  There was a body beneath the covers, its respiration slow and deep. Stemper crouched beside the bed and placed his hand on the sleeping man’s shoulder.

  Quills grunted, his body twitching at Stemper’s touch.

  ‘Ssshhh. Don’t wake up,’ Stemper urged him. ‘We’re going to talk, and you’ll stay asleep because you’re lovely and relaxed now, and you want to remain that way. In the morning you’ll wake and recall how wonderful it was, that we shared this experience.’

  Quills wriggled. He was lying on his side, and Stemper saw his eyes flicker, trying to open. He laid the back of his hand against the man’s cheek, the skin both soft and slightly rough with stubble.

  ‘Sshh. Don’t wake up, or I’ll have to leave, and that’s no way to end such a wonderful dream.’ He began stroking, slowly, from temple to jaw, and heard a moan of appreciation.

  ‘You’re easily besotted, Bernard. You’re a lonely man, and you think I’m the answer to your prayers. Well, I’ve got some good news. I do have the answer. I know the cure for loneliness, and I can help you to find it. But you have to play your part. You have to let me help you, and by relaxing now and remembering how this feels, that warm wonderful sense of security that comes from knowing you’ll follow me to the very ends of the Earth ... that’s how you’ll find the answer, Bernard.’

  Quills mumbled a response. Stemper had no idea what he said, but the tone was agreeable, compliant, and that was enough.

  ‘From now on, Bernard, leave the door unlocked and I’ll be here again soon. Tomorrow night, perhaps. I’ll visit you in your sleep and we’ll talk, and at the end you’ll come to feel what you already know in your heart – that I understand you better than anyone has ever done or tried to do.’

  Another sleepy murmur, another twitch of pleasure.

  ‘I can see into your soul. I see the sweet, lonely man who resides there, so often misunderstood, so often rejected or overlooked. That doesn’t matter any more, because now you have someone who truly wants your soul. Sleep now, sleep deeply and remember this: ultimately I want what’s best for you, Bernard. I’ll be here for you again, very soon. Very soon.’

  Quills smiled, but his eyes remained closed. He didn’t stir as Stemper got to his feet and left the room.

  CHAPTER 53

  Having to be up at eight on a Saturday felt like an imposition to Robbie: practically an abuse of his human rights. Even though it was Compton’s busiest day, he invariably managed to wangle a late start or a reason to avoid going in altogether.

  Today he was happy to make an exception. Anything for the sister of the late, unlamented Hank O’Brien.

  He was gulping down a coffee when Jed wandered in, naked except for a pair of filthy grey shorts. Robbie made a mental note to turn the heating down.

  ‘All right?’ he said. Jed rarely surfaced before eleven, especially if he’d been out the night before. Robbie had heard him come in around four.

  ‘That car you wanna ditch? Feller I know works at a scrapyard near Winchester. Says he’ll disappear it for you, but best if it’s got some serious damage on it.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Has it got some serious damage?’

  ‘It will have. How do we get it there?’

  ‘He can collect, if you want.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Three hundred,’ Jed added. ‘Cash, mind.’

  Robbie nodded. Dan was going to blow his nut.

  ‘Bit steep, isn’t it?’

  ‘He only works there, so he’s taking a risk with his job. And since I was getting the impression this was important to you ...’ Jed said it playfully, as if to demonstrate that he already knew the answer.

  ‘It’s for a mate.’

  ‘Aye. And you’re fretting that he won’t wanna stump up the cash?’

  ‘No, no. It’s cool.’

  ‘Good. So you’ll give us a hundred up front?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘I’m seeing him later. That’s why I’m up at the crack. Doing this for you, Robert.’

  Trying to hide his reluctance, Robbie went into his bedroom. Jed followed, and Robbie couldn’t think of a way to stop him. He knew a direct request was likely to be ignored, and then what would happen?

  Jed leaned against the door frame, absently scratching his groin. Robbie stopped by his bed, not wanting to reach under the mat where his floor safe was concealed.

  ‘Planning to get dressed?’ he asked.

  ‘Nah, thought I’d head out naked. Give the womenfolk of Brighton the thrill of their lives.’ Jed grinned and crossed his arms. He was going nowhere.

  Robbie told himself that it didn’t really matter. Jed wouldn’t see the combination from where he was standing. But it was the principle that irked him, the feeling that he was being denied privacy in his own home. He’d have to tell Jed it was time he moved on.

  He couldn’t say it now, of course. But soon.

  Keeping his back to Jed, he opened the safe and took out a wad of notes. When he’d told Dan on Wednesday that he was absolutely skint, he had meant it sincerely. This was money he didn’t even consider when he was totting up his assets: his ultra, ultra emergency funds. The do-or-die money.

  He counted out five twenties and returned the rest to the safe. Jed stuck his hand out, a broad smirk on his face.

  ‘Just give us a shout when you want the motor collecting.’

  ‘Soon, probably. A day or two.’

  ‘That’ll be swell!’ he said in a bad American accent, and he clapped Robbie on the shoulder. ‘Always a privilege to help my favourite landlord.’

  ****

  The weather
was dull but dry, so Dan walked to work. Louis hadn’t yet surfaced, which wasn’t surprising, but even Joan had only got up for a cup of tea and then returned to bed. From the brief chat she’d had with him, it was clear she was still euphoric about accepting a date. Dan knew he would have to ensure she didn’t get cold feet between now and Wednesday.

  At Fiveways he bought a tube of Polo mints and an Argus. He felt sure there would be a shock waiting for him in the paper, and he wasn’t wrong. The e-fits occupied almost half a page: Dan and Robbie in grim digitised glory.

  Except that it wasn’t the two of them; not really. As Cate had said, knowing who the images were supposed to represent made it impossible to evaluate their accuracy.

  He binned the paper before he reached the shop. Hayley didn’t normally read the Argus, so there was no point making it easier for her to see it. She’d texted him to say she was coming in to work today. She’d also asked if his car was fixed yet. He’d replied: Soon. Looking forward to seeing u xx

  The car park was almost empty, Hayley’s Corsa conspicuous by its presence. The shop always had a different feel on a Saturday. The staff cut it fine when they turned up, and the mood tended to be more laid-back. There were jokes about hangovers, the prospects for different football teams, the plans for Saturday-night celebrations.

  Hayley was alone in the restroom, eating a low-fat yoghurt and reading a glossy celebrity magazine. Dan glanced at it as he leaned over to kiss her cheek and saw pictures of some C-lister’s extravagant wedding. Uh-oh.

  She seemed to squirm slightly at his touch, and he changed his mind about a second kiss.

  ‘So you’re feeling better?’

  ‘Not really. But Maisie’s off, isn’t she? I didn’t want to let the store down.’

  He tutted in a way that conveyed both admiration and disapproval. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

  She shifted round in the seat. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘You tell me.’ She dabbed her thumb against her tongue and turned the page: more satin and bows and bottle-brown cleavage.

  ‘I was hoping we’d move on from yesterday’s conversation. Frankly it didn’t make a lot of sense.’

  Hayley said nothing. Dan poured stale water from the kettle and refilled it. He found a clean mug for his coffee, took one out for her, then put it back. If Hayley wanted a drink she would ask for one.

  ‘Well?’ he said.

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘I don’t know what you meant about “emotional stress”. Is that really why you were off sick?’

  He heard the snap of another page. ‘This isn’t the time or the place, Daniel.’

  For some reason he thought about Louis, and the quite unwarranted adoration that his brother had expressed last night. It acted to toughen Dan’s resolve, so that instead of trying to reason with Hayley he gave a shrug and said, in a voice too low to hear over the burbling kettle: ‘Suit yourself.’

  CHAPTER 54

  Stemper was almost put out to find other guests in the dining room – two retired couples, by the look of them, dressed in the bright vulgar clothing that he associated with affluent leisure pursuits: golf, perhaps, or sailing.

  He adapted swiftly, exchanging the necessary greetings, then sat at the far side of the room. He didn’t much care for breakfast but he needed to see Quills to assess the efficacy of last night’s session.

  Within a couple of minutes the proprietor emerged from the kitchen, carrying two plates of bacon and eggs. He was wearing a chef’s apron over a check shirt, and there were bright spots of colour on his wide cheeks. His first sight of Stemper caused him to break his stride.

  Good. Stemper studied the folded card which listed the breakfast menu. He didn’t look up until he sensed Quills approaching.

  ‘Good morning! What can I get you?’

  ‘Well, I was going to say just coffee, but those breakfasts look delicious. May I have scrambled egg on toast?’

  Quills beamed. ‘My pleasure. Anything else?’

  ‘That’s all. Thank you.’

  They maintained eye contact. Then Quills glanced at the retired couples before leaning forward and confiding: ‘I woke up this morning, convinced that I’d had the most wonderful dream.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I can’t get it out of my mind. Truth be told, I can’t get you out of my mind.’

  A burst of laughter from the other table diverted their attention. Quills quickly reached out and brushed his hand against Stemper’s arm.

  ‘It sounds so ... clichéd, but it’s true. And I don’t make a habit, I really don’t ... I mean, I’d be mortified if you thought I was ... well, a predator or something.’

  Stemper chuckled. ‘Rest easy, Bernard. You’re no predator.’

  ****

  The holidaymakers kept him busy, but once or twice Quills stole a moment to sidle over and engage Stemper in conversation.

  ‘A day to yourself, is it? A chance to see the sights?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. More meetings.’

  ‘Oh, dear. All work and no play ...’

  Stemper nodded. ‘I am a dull boy, indeed.’

  ‘And what is it you do, exactly?’

  ‘Exactly?’ Stemper echoed, with a glint in his eye. ‘Well, you probably know that silly phrase: “I could tell you, Bernard, but then I’d have to kill you.”’

  And for half a second there was silence, before Stemper laughed and Quills, looking slightly uneasy, joined in, slapping his guest affectionately on the shoulder.

  ‘You’re a scream, Mr Hooper. So deadpan. You really should be on the stage.’

  ****

  Stemper left the guest house at eight o’clock. He wore a grey suit and a reversible raincoat, beige side out. He was whistling to himself, cheerful about the tasks that lay ahead. He would earn the first of his bonuses today.

  Last night he’d set out his proposal in detail. The Blakes had marvelled at his ingenuity, although his favoured approach was one he’d used on several occasions, and it was far from original. But it was undeniably effective, and it sent the authorities down all kinds of blind alleys.

  The Blakes had readily agreed to help with the preparation, freeing up Stemper’s time for the immediate priority: Compton Property Services.

  Its offices were located in a narrow street a short distance from Queens Road. Stemper was able to pull in at the kerb within sight of the property’s frontage, but he was already debating his next move. It wouldn’t be long before the city’s parking wardens came prowling.

  He took out his phone and pretended to be engrossed in a series of texts. In twenty minutes only half a dozen vehicles passed him, including a Royal Mail van making deliveries. He saw the first warden, too, crossing the end of the street and giving him a professional once-over.

  A pity. Before he moved on, Stemper wanted something: a development, a sign, a little bit of luck.

  He got it. In spades, as the saying went.

  ****

  A car roared past and braked sharply, darting into a marked-out bay in front of the office. Stemper sat forward in his seat, and used the camera on his phone to take a series of shots.

  The car’s only occupant was a woman in a trouser suit: thirtyish, tall and statuesque. She might have been a candidate for the woman with Hank, except that she was too tall, too heavy, and she was Asian. Stemper guessed that even Traci was sharp enough not to have omitted such a detail.

  He waited until the woman had unlocked the door and gone inside, then he called Jerry.

  ‘The BMW on Wednesday night. Could it have been a 335i Coupe?’

  Jerry hummed as he thought about it. ‘Maybe. I’ll check one out on the net later and let you know. Can’t do it now. The Blakes have got me back at the farmhouse.’

  ‘Really?’ Stemper said, although he knew precisely what Jerry was doing today.

  ‘Yeah, and it’s gonna chuck it down later.’ Jerry’s next complaint was inaudible, and th
en he said, ‘Oh, you need to get the local paper, for the e-fits.’

  ‘I’ll take a look. I’m scoping out the property company at the moment.’

  ‘Is that where you saw the Beemer? It’s gotta be them, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Possibly. I hope to confirm it soon.’

  ‘You will, I’m sure.’ He sniffed. ‘Well, I’ve gotta say it, you know your stuff.’

  ‘Thank you, Jerry. I appreciate that.’

  CHAPTER 55

  When it came to spinning those plates, manipulating people and situations with consummate skill, Robbie didn’t think there was much you could teach him. But he had to admit that Dan had done him a favour with the warning about the mystery photographer.

  Before leaving the office last night he’d enquired after Indira’s plans for the weekend. Hearing that she was working tomorrow morning, then visiting family in Hertfordshire on Sunday, he had a proposal for her.

  ‘Why don’t you have the BMW and I’ll use your car?’

  Sheer disbelief on her face. ‘What do you want in return?’

  ‘Nothing. I only have local calls, so anything's all right with me. Better that you and the family travel in comfort, eh?’

  He could see the doubt in her eyes, but it didn’t stop her snatching the keys from his hand. Indira was a speed freak, and she’d coveted his BMW for years.

  It meant Robbie was saddled with a five-year-old Citroen C4 Picasso. Bree would be less than impressed if she knew, he thought, as he located the address for his next chore of the day.

  ****

  Maureen Heath lived in a detached house in Shirley Drive, to the east of Hove Park. It spoke of money, if not quite on the scale of Jimmy and Bree, whose home was only a couple of minutes away. Maureen had returned his call yesterday, suggesting they meet up first.