Take Two (A psychological thriller) (20 page)

The lift stopped and the doors opened into the lobby of the building. Two doormen were standing there in black bomber jackets and matching earpieces. They nodded at Richards and Halpin as they stepped out.

‘All good, guys?’ asked Halpin.

‘Quiet so far,’ said the taller of the two doormen.

Halpin looked at his watch. It was only eight o’clock and the club usually didn’t start to get busy until midnight. ‘Early yet,’ said Halpin.  He followed Richards through the reception area and out into Leicester Square. The square was packed with tourists and cinemagoers as Richards slowly threaded his way through to the centre. Halpin stayed at the entrance to the building, chewing gum as he kept his eyes on Richards.

Richards stopped and lit a cigar. Two middle-aged women in cheap coats glared at him and he grinned. ‘I’m outside, you sour-faced cows,’ he said. ‘If you don’t want second-hand smoke you can fuck off home.’

The two women looked away and hurried off.

‘Winning friends and influencing people, Mr Richards?’

Richards turned to look at an overweight balding man in a raincoat.  ‘You’d think I was murdering their kids. You Maxwell?’

‘Max to the max,’ said Dunbar. ‘I wouldn’t mind one of them myself. What are they, Cuban?’

‘Hand-rolled on a dusky maiden’s thighs,’ said Richards, taking out his brown leather cigar case. He opened it and offered a cigar to Dunbar. Dunbar bit the end off and spat it to the floor while Richards took out a box of Swan Vestas and lit a match. ‘Never use a lighter,’ he said. ‘Ruins the taste.’

Dunbar drew on the cigar and then blew smoke contentedly. ‘No argument here,’ he said. ‘A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke. Who said that?’

‘Rudyard Kipling,’ said Richards.

‘Thought it was Winston Churchill.’

Richards shook his head. ‘Kipling.’

‘Well he does make exceedingly good cakes,’ said Dunbar. He took another long pull on his cigar.

‘What do you want, Maxwell?’ asked Richards.

‘It’s more about what you want,’ said Dunbar.  ‘Carolyn Castle.’

‘Look, I’ve got a business to run, now tell me what the fuck you want or I’m off.’

Dunbar shrugged.   ‘Here’s the thing, Warwick. She wants me to check you out, tell her what sort of person you are. And there’s two answers I can give her, right?  There’s the real version and there’s the sanitized version.’

‘Sanitized version?’

‘Sure. Successful businessman and club owner. Supporter of charities. Good with kids and small animals.’

‘And the unsanitized version? What would that be?’

‘Gangster, drug dealer, extortionist.’

‘I’ve never been charged with anything,’ said Richards. ‘Never been convicted. Never even had a speeding ticket.’ He pulled on his cigar.

‘Only because you’re smarter than the average crim.’

Richards exhaled a cloud of bluish smoke. ‘Which raises the question, how do you know so much about what I might or might not have done? You had a sneaky peak at my PNC file, have you? Because I’m pretty sure that would be a breach of the Data Protection Act.’

Dunbar smiled and held up his hands. ‘Look, Warwick, I’m guessing that she has a thing about you but wants to check you out before taking it further. The job is worth a couple of hundred quid at most. But I figure it’s got to be worth more to you for me to give you a clean bill of health, right?’

‘You might be right.’

‘Of course I’m right.  I mean, I don’t know if it’s the sex you’re after or if you want her to help boost your profile, but you’ve got a lot to gain by having Carolyn Castle on your arm. That’s got to be worth a few grand to you, hasn’t it?  So it’s a win-win situation. You get the girl, I get a few grand.’

‘The alternative being that I don’t get the girl and you get a couple of hundred.’

‘Is she going to want to be seen with a gangster? That’s the question you have to ask yourself,’ said Dunbar. ‘No offence.’

Richards smiled thinly. ‘None taken. So two grand buys me a glowing report?’

‘A few grand is what I said. How about we call it a round five grand?’

‘What did she tell you?’ asked Richards.

Dunbar frowned.  ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t fuck me around, Dunbar. What is this really about? What did she say to you?’

Dunbar’s frown deepened. ‘She wanted me to check you out.’

‘That’s it?’

Dunbar shrugged. ‘I’ve worked for her before. She trusts my judgement.’

Richards laughed harshly. ‘Well that’s not working out too well for her, is it?’

‘I’m just trying to maximize my earnings,’ said Dunbar. He stood up. ‘If you’re not interested, I’ll just take the two hundred and give her the facts. It’s no skin off my nose.’

‘Relax, Max,’ said Richards. ‘I’ll pay.’

Dunbar grinned. ‘I knew you’d see it my way. Oh, and she wants to know if you know an accountant called Cohen.’

‘Does she, now?’

‘He works for some firm of accountants.  Cohen and some Polish name. What do you want me to tell her?’

Richards shrugged. ‘Tell her the truth. I don’t know the man.’

‘No problem.’

‘You’ll take a cheque, right?’

Dunbar laughed. ‘It’s a cash-only deal,’ he said.

‘I don’t have that much on me,’ he said. He gestured over at Halpin. ‘See that guy over there in the overcoat?  His name’s Mick. He’ll give you the cash tomorrow. He can call you on the number you used to call me?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Dunbar. ‘Pleasure doing business with you.’ He held up the cigar. “And thanks for this.’ He grinned and walked away.

Richards went over to Halpin. ‘All good,’ he said.

‘What did he want, boss?’

‘A bloody shower for a start,’ said Richards. ‘He stank to high heaven.’ He patted Halpin on the back. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the club.’  They walked together across the square. ‘We’ve got a problem with the lovely Carolyn,’ said Richards. ‘She asked him to check me out, see if I’m naughty or nice.’

‘She hasn’t spoken to the cops. If she had, they’d be all over us by now.’ Halpin scratched his head. ‘Do you think Dunbar’s trying to set you up?’

‘He’s not smart enough for that. If his brains were gunpowder he wouldn’t be able to manage a loud fart.’

‘So all she wants to do is have you checked out? That’s good, right?’

Richards shook his head. ‘No, it’s bad. As bad as it gets. She’s checking me out because she saw what I did. She told him to find out if I knew Cohen.’

‘So why hasn’t she gone to the cops?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Richards. ‘But I know one thing. She’s one hell of an actress. When I saw her, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Then she goes and hires Dunbar. She’s one cool cookie.’ He dropped what was left of the cigar onto the pavement and ground it out with his heel.

CHAPTER 45

Dunbar’s mobile rang and he put down his copy of the Daily Mirror and looked at the phone’s screen. The caller was withholding his number but that was nothing unusual, half of his calls came from blocked numbers. It was Halpin. ‘I’ve got your five grand,’ he said. 

It was Thursday, the day after Dunbar had met Richards in Leicester Square.  It had been too easy and Dunbar mentally kicked himself for not asking for ten grand. ‘Excellent,’ said Dunbar.

‘One thing, the boss wants to be sure you’ve given the woman a glowing report.’

‘No problem, soon as I get the money I’ll go and see her. I’ll tell her Warwick’s the best thing since sliced bread.’

‘No, he wants more than that,’ said Halpin. ‘He wants me to be there when you check in with her.’

‘That’s not going to fly,’ said Dunbar. ‘She knows I work alone so she’s going to wonder why I’ve turned up mob-handed. Plus, she made it clear she wants this done on the QT.’

‘Then I need to hear you make a call before I give you the money.’

‘That’ll work,’ said Dunbar.

‘You can make the call, I’ll give you the five grand and everyone’s happy.’

Dunbar looked at his watch. It was ten-thirty. He had a surveillance operation he was supposed to be starting at five o’clock that evening but, other than that, he was free all day. ‘I’ll meet you somewhere,’ he said.

‘You don’t want me to know where you live, is that it?’ said Halpin. ‘Waste of time, pal. We already know.’

‘Bullshit,’ said Dunbar. He wasn’t on the electoral roll and none of the utilities were in his name.

Halpin chuckled. ‘Where are you now?’ he asked.

‘Home.’

‘I meant which room, dickhead.’

Dunbar frowned. ‘The kitchen.’

‘Walk through to your front room, mate, and open your blinds.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I’m serious, dickhead.’

Dunbar walked quickly into his sitting room and peered through the slats of the wooden blinds covering the main window.  Halpin was standing on the pavement outside the house. He grinned and waggled his fingers at Dunbar. ‘Surprise,’ he said.

Dunbar cursed and put his phone away. He went to the front door and opened it. ‘I don’t see people at home,’ he said.

‘There’s a first time for everything,’ said Halpin, unbuttoning his overcoat. He reached inside and took out a bulky envelope. ‘Do you want your bloody money or not?’

‘Yeah, all right, come in,’ said Dunbar. He held open the door and Halpin stepped inside. ‘Kitchen,’ said Dunbar.  ‘I’ve just made a pot of tea.’

Halpin walked through to the kitchen as Dunbar closed the front door. ‘Nice,’ said Halpin, looking around. ‘You married then, Maxwell?’

‘Wife died a few years ago,’ said Dunbar.  ‘Cancer.’

‘Yeah, cancer’s a bugger,’ said Halpin. ‘Took my old fellah last year. Colon.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Dunbar. He gestured at the teapot. ‘You want tea?’

‘Milk and one sugar,’ said Halpin, sitting down at the kitchen table. He toyed with a sovereign ring as Dunbar poured tea for the two of them.

‘Let me see the money then,’ said Dunbar as he sat down.

Halpin slid the envelope across the table. Dunbar took it and grinned when he opened it and saw the money inside. Halpin leaned over and took it from him. ‘It’s yours once you’ve made the call,’ he said.

‘You know she works every day?’ said Dunbar. ‘And her phone has to be off when she’s on the set.’

‘I’m in no rush,’ said Halpin. ‘Just keep calling until you get through.’

CHAPTER 46

Andrea had the giggles. Corpsing they called it, and Andrea could have corpsed for the Olympics.  The scene was a simple two-hander, Diana and Fiona sitting in a wine bar discussing their friend Saffie’s new boyfriend. Saffie was a buyer for a top London store. She was in her fifties and had a thing about younger men. Much younger.  There were ten lines of dialogue in all, accompanied by sips of Ribena masquerading as claret. The scene was the day before Diana would discover Fiona in bed with her husband and it was light banter with a couple of very funny lines.

The first take had been almost perfect except for the fact that, at one point, Carolyn had accidentally clinked her glass against the bottle. It was a small thing but Harrington wanted to go again.  That’s when the giggling had started.  The line was simple enough. All Andrea had to say was ‘good things come in small packages’, which was meant to be a double entendre and was supposed to be accompanied by Andrea raising one eyebrow, one of her trademark looks.  She fluffed the line and said ‘on small packages’ and, from that point on, she was unable to say the line without cracking up.  She had half a dozen goes at it before apologizing profusely to the director and the crew, took a minute to compose herself and tried again.  Unfortunately, she went from bad to worse and would giggle as soon as Harrington called ‘action!’

The giggling was infectious and soon Carolyn was also unable to speak and the two of them sat at the table giggling until tears as the director became increasingly frustrated. Eventually, after the fifteenth botched take, he took off his headphones and walked over to the table, his cheeks flushed. He bent down and lowered his voice. ‘Ladies, please, we are so far behind already today and if I don’t get this done and on to the next scene, I’m going to be in deep, deep shit.’

‘I’m sorry, Jake, really,’ said Andrea, wiping her eyes.

‘And now you’re smearing your make-up,’ said Harrington. ‘Come on, we’re all professionals, please let’s just do the job that we’re paid for, shall we?’

‘Jake, you’re right,’ said Carolyn. She took a deep breath. ‘It’s just a case of the giggles. We’ll get over it.’

Harrington looked at his watch then stood up. ‘Okay, take ten everyone,’ he shouted. ‘I need make-up to work on Andrea and when we start shooting I want everyone on their best behaviour.’

He went back to his monitors while Kelly rushed over with her make-up box and began fussing over Andrea. Carolyn stood up and took out her phone. She switched it on. There was a voicemail from Max Dunbar so she found a quiet part of the set and called him back. ‘Sorry, Max, I was shooting,’ she said.

‘Not with real bullets, I hope,’ he said.

‘Just a difficult scene. So, you have something for me?’

‘Yes, I’ve asked around about Warwick Richards, and done a little digging. He’s quite well known on the social circuit, he owns Charades nightclub in Leicester Square has quite a few commercial properties in Soho. He’s a bit larger than life, bit of a character, but he’s as clean as they come.’

‘Not a gangster, then?’

Dunbar laughed. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ he asked.

‘I just wondered,’ said Carolyn. ‘And you say he owns a nightclub. They’re usually pretty shady, aren’t they?’

‘Back in the Eighties, maybe,’ said Dunbar. ‘But with all the licensing laws and whatnot, it’s a much more professional business these days. Look, I had a word with a few of my cop friends and they all said he’s as clean as a whistle. Whiter than white. Does a lot of charity work but keeps it low profile.’

‘You’re sure, Max?’

‘Sure, I’m sure,’ he said. ‘I’m not saying he doesn’t meet the odd villain in his club, but that’s par for the course in the hospitality business.  Warwick Richards is a straight-shooter, never had so much as a speeding ticket.’

‘Really?’