Free to Trade (12 page)

'Mr Murray, didn't you say your name was?' said Bowen, his voice a note lower, a note graver.

'Yes,' I said. I swallowed.

'Ah, I'm sorry, I am afraid we don't have anything more on file. Goodbye, Mr Murray.'

'But shouldn't we meet as you suggested?' I asked.

'I don't think that will be necessary,' Bowen said firmly. 'Goodbye.' He rang off.

I slumped back in my chair to think. I didn't like the sound of this investigation.

Vague thoughts of trials and prison floated round my head. Then I pulled myself together. I hadn't done anything wrong. Debbie had said so, and she did know the law. I had no inside information. It was only natural that people would check me out, given my purchase, but I had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Still, best to make sure. I rang Bloomfield Weiss again. Cathy answered the phone.

'Is Cash there?' I asked.

'No, he has just popped out to fetch a cup of coffee,' Cathy's clear voice replied. 'He'll be back in a minute.'

'Perhaps you can help,' I said.

'If you think I can,' said Cathy, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

She was probably offended I had asked for Cash instead of her, I thought. Perhaps she thought I doubted her capabilities. I was about to apologise when I stopped myself. Sod it. Some people are just too touchy.

'I was curious about all those Gypsum bonds you were buying last week,' I said. 'Were they for your own books?'

'No, they were for a client.'

'He must have done very nicely,' I said.

'He certainly did,' said Cathy. 'In fact...'

She was interrupted by Cash growling at her. 'Hold on,' she said, and clicked her phone on to hold. A moment later she was back. 'I'm sorry, I've got to jump. I'll tell Cash you were after him,' and she hung up.

Rob walked past my desk and saw me staring gloomily into the receiver. 'What's up? Seen a ghost?' His smile only lasted a second. 'Sorry. Stupid thing to say.'

'Life goes on,' I said. 'But I will miss her.'

'So will I,' said Rob.

'She had a lot of boyfriends, didn't she?'

'Some, I suppose.' Rob caught my glance. His cheeks reddened. 'Some,' he said again, and turned away.

I shrugged my shoulders and got back to work. I looked at the small box of Debbie's possessions at my feet. I should take them back to her flat, I thought. I pulled out the phone book and rang Denny Clark. I asked to speak to Felicity. There was only one woman of that name who worked at Denny Clark, and she was in.

'Hallo, it's Paul Murray,' I said. 'We met at Debbie's funeral.'

'Oh yes,' she said. 'You are the guy she used to work with.'

'That's right. I've got some things of hers. Not much and none of it's very important. Can I bring them round?'

'Sure, when would you like to come?' she said.

'This evening OK?'

'Fine. Come round at seven. The address is twenty-five Cavendish Road. Clapham South is the nearest tube. See you then.'

CHAPTER 6

Cavendish Road turned out to be part of the South Circular, one of the most clogged of London's tired old arteries. Cars and lorries crept forward, and then as a light changed hurtled along the street for fifty yards or so, before slowing to a crawl again. The July evening air was full of dust and carbon-monoxide fumes and throbbed with the sound of revving engines.

Number twenty-five was a small terraced house similar to all the others on the street. There were two bells by the door. I pressed the one with 'Chater' and 'Wilson' written in smudged blue biro. The door buzzed to let me in.

Debbie and Felicity had the upstairs flat. It was cheaply but attractively furnished, untidy but not a mess. Felicity came to the door in tight blue jeans and a sloppy black T-shirt, her red hair falling in a tangle on to her shoulders. She showed me through to the living room. There was one sofa and a series of large cushions on the floor. Felicity motioned for me to sit on the sofa, whilst she curled up on a cushion.

'Sorry this place is a bit of a tip,' she said.

I handed her the box I had brought. 'Thank you,' she said. 'Debbie's parents will be down this weekend to collect things. Can I get you a glass of wine?'

She disappeared to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of Muscadet and two glasses.

'So, you have lived here with Debbie since you both came to London?' I asked.

'Oh no,' answered Felicity. 'When we first moved down here, we rented a flat in Earls Court. Well, it really wasn't much more than one bedroom. But a couple of years ago, we bought this place jointly. It's a bit noisy, but you get used to it.'

'You and Debbie must have been very close,' I said.

'I suppose we were,' said Felicity. 'She was a very easy person to live with and we had some good laughs together. But in a way she was a very private person. So am I, come to think of it. I think that's why we got on together. We liked living with each other, but respected each other's privacy.'

'I hope you don't mind me asking this,' I said, 'but I think I met someone the other day who might have been a boyfriend of Debbie's. He was thin, mid-thirties, blue eyes, dark hair?'

Felicity thought for a moment. 'Yes, there was one who fits that description. She had an affair with him last year some time. It didn't last long. I really didn't like him at all. I remember the way he used to look at me.' She shuddered.

That must have been the man on the boat. 'What was his name?' I asked.

Felicity screwed up her face in an effort to remember. 'No. Sorry. I know she met him through work somehow or other. He was a nasty piece of work. Charming at first. But very soon he was ordering Debbie about. At breakfast it was embarrassing to watch. And Debbie did everything he asked! It was very odd. You know Debbie, she was hardly your average meek house slave. This man did exude a sort of violent power. Debbie found it fascinating. It scared me.

'Then one evening I came home at about ten o'clock to find Debbie in a terrible state. She had a big bruise on her forehead and her eye was puffed up. She was sobbing quietly, as though she had been crying for a while.

'I asked her what had happened. She said that -- oh, I wish I could remember his name. Anyway--whoever the bastard was had beaten her up. She had found out he was married and had confronted him with it. He had hit her and walked out.

'Over the next few days this man would telephone or come round in person. Debbie never talked to him or let him in. She nearly gave in once or twice, but in the end she had too much common sense. We were both scared. I certainly didn't want to have anything to do with him and we were both frightened in case he was waiting outside our flat to follow us when we went out. I think he did once follow Debbie, but she screamed and he slunk off. After a week or so, he gave up calling and we didn't see any more of him.'

Until the other night on the boat, I thought. It seemed to me more likely than ever that this was the man who had pushed Debbie into the river. I wondered how I could find out who he was. 'You can't remember anything more about him. Where he lived, what he did, who he worked for?'

'I'm sorry. That was one of the main areas in which we respected each other's privacy. I would occasionally bump into Debbie's boyfriends, but she rarely talked about them. And I did my best to avoid him.'

'It wasn't the same man you mentioned at the funeral? The one who was bothering her lately.'

'No, no. It wasn't him. He wasn't quite so scary. Although he was a bit weird perhaps. Oh, I've remembered his name, by the way. It was Rob.'

Rob! Incredible! I had never noticed anything between him and Debbie. They seemed to treat each other perfectly naturally. Still, if you thought about it, it wasn't so surprising. In a way, it was inevitable that Rob would make a play for Debbie at some time.

Felicity had noticed my initial surprise. 'Of course, you must know him. You obviously didn't know about it.'

I shook my head.

'Well, they went out together just after Debbie joined De Jong & Co. It only lasted a couple of months or so, and then Debbie called it off. She said it was getting a bit heavy. Rob took it badly for a bit, but after a while Debbie said they could treat each other normally at work.'

Felicity took another sip of wine. 'Then, about a week before Debbie...' Felicity paused, 'fell into the river, this bloke rang up. It was late, just after midnight, I think. He said they should get back together again. He said they should get married. Debbie just told him not to be so silly, but he kept on ringing night after night. It began to get to Debbie. She told him to piss off but it didn't seem to have any effect.'

'But why did he suddenly decide he wanted to marry her?' I asked. 'It sounds a bit odd.'

'Yes. As I said, a bit weird. Debbie said this guy was like that. Isn't he?'

I nodded. I had to admit Rob was like that. 'I still don't quite understand why Rob waited until now.'

'He was jealous. At least that is what Debbie said.'

'Jealous? Of whom?'

'I don't know. Debbie said she was getting interested in someone else at work, and Rob didn't like it. He was getting possessive and it annoyed her.'

For a second I cast around thinking who Debbie could have been talking about. But there could only be one person. Me.

I felt very foolish. The closening of our relationship must have been obvious to Debbie and even to Rob. But it was only just beginning to sink into my thick skull when she died.

The depression which had been stalking me wherever I went since then, enveloped me again. With Debbie had died an opportunity to break out of the strait-jacket of my life, the self-discipline, loneliness, hard work, dedication to a goal. She had offered irresponsibility, fun, easy companionship. And just as all that had been in my grasp, it had been pulled away. Pulled away by the thin man with the dead eyes.

I drained my glass and got up to leave.

'Thank you for bringing her things round,' said Felicity, nodding towards the box, 'I will be sure to pass them on to her parents.'

The box reminded me of Debbie's cluttered desk. And the prospectuses lying on it. I paused at the door. 'You haven't heard of someone called Irwin Piper, have you?'

'Yes, I think I have.' Felicity thought a moment. 'I am pretty sure Denny Clark was involved in defending him a few years ago. Why do you ask?'

'Oh, just something Debbie was working on before she died. I would like to tidy it up. Can you remember anything about the case?'

'No. I had nothing to do with it. But I think Debbie might have done. If it's important I could find out who was involved with it. Debbie must have been working with one of the partners.'

'That would be very helpful,' I said. 'I would love to talk to someone about it. It would make things a lot clearer.' I opened the door. 'Thank you very much for the wine.'

'Not at all. It's nice to have some company. You can spend too much time in this flat, alone.'

I said goodbye and let myself out.

I arrived home with my mind spinning. Part of it was the wine. Most of it was with the whirl of information I had received in the last few days. The last days of Debbie's life had been far from uneventful. Her row with Hamilton, her concerns about Piper and the Tahiti, and Rob of all people pestering her to marry him.

All this mingled with the jumble of feelings I felt towards her myself. It was only since her death that I was really getting to know her. I wished it were possible to talk to her about all I had found out. There was a lot we could talk about. If only that bastard hadn't killed her. I was more and more sure that her death was not an accident.

I pulled on my running kit and set off round the park. The wine in my stomach made it tough going, but I didn't care. I ran fast until it hurt and then I ran a bit more. I made it back to my flat shattered, had a bath and went to bed.

There were things I wanted to do at work the next morning, but it was difficult. With Debbie gone I had enough phone calls for two to answer. The markets were choppy. The Japanese were sellers because the dollar was weakening against the yen, but there had been some big buy programmes overnight from the States. This was the sort of market that presented plenty of opportunities for those who were quick enough on their feet. I found it hard to concentrate and missed all of them.

I looked over to Rob's desk. He was staring at his screen and biting his lip. He had a position that was going against him. His line flashed and his hand shot out to pick up the receiver. He listened for a few seconds, scowled, and flung the receiver to his desk. Rob was not happy this morning.

I tried to remember any telltale sign of something between Rob and Debbie, but I couldn't think of anything. No sideways glances, no attempts to avoid each other, no embarrassed silences. They were always friendly towards each other. I hadn't heard any gossip about them either, but then Debbie herself would have been the principal source of gossip. I wondered if anyone else had known.

I stood up, and walked over to the coffee machine. 'Would you like a cup?' I asked Karen as I passed her desk.

'Oh, yes please. White, no sugar.'

I returned a minute later with two cups, and gave one to Karen. I perched on her desk. She looked surprised. I was not really one to stop and chat.

'I heard something very strange yesterday,' I said quietly.

'Oh yes?' said Karen, her interest aroused.

'It was about Debbie. And Rob.'

Karen raised her eyebrows. 'Oh, is that all? Didn't you know? Mind you, that was a long time before you joined here. Must be two years.'

'I would never have guessed it.'

'Well, it didn't last long. They tried to keep it a secret but everybody knew. But it's old news now. Poor Rob, he must have taken what happened to her very badly.'

'Yeah. Poor guy,' I said, and walked back to my desk. You did have to feel sorry for him. He was seriously confused.

I was still struggling to focus my mind on the market when Felicity called. 'I found out who was dealing with the Piper case,' she said. 'It was Robert Denny, our senior partner.'