Take Two (A psychological thriller) (21 page)

‘I shouldn’t be telling you this but I checked him out on the PNC. The Police National Computer. I’m not supposed to do that, what with the Data Protection Act and all, but I can tell you he doesn’t have a record.’

‘That’s good to hear. And did you check to see if he had any connection with an accountant called Nicholas Cohen?’

‘I did and I couldn’t find anything. He uses a city firm, one of the biggies.  There’s no connection between him and the company you mentioned, Cohen and Kawczynski.’

‘Okay, Max, thank you. You’ll send me your bill, right?’

‘I’ll put it in the post,’ he said. ‘Oh, and there’s something else you might be interested in. He’s not married, never has been.’

Carolyn ended the call and switched off her phone. She was surprised at what Dunbar had told her. As clean as they come, he’d said. Yet she’d seen him batter a man to death. Or had she? She was starting to doubt her own memory. It had been late at night, there had been reflections on the glass, she’d had quite a bit to drink. When she’d first met Warwick Richards she had been sure he was the man she’d seen but after having spent time in his company, she was finding it harder to remember what she’d seen that night.

Harrington waved her over to the table and she put the phone away and went to join Andrea.

CHAPTER 47

Dunbar put down his phone and grinned at Halpin. ‘Happy?’ he said. ‘She bought it hook, line and sinker.’

‘You’re a natural,’ said Halpin. ‘You could be an actor, no question.’

Dunbar grinned. ‘Yeah, I’ve been told my face is perfect for radio.’ He held out his hand. ‘So I’ll take the money now, if that’s okay with you.’

‘You’ve earned it,’ said Halpin. He tossed the envelope to Dunbar and stood up. ‘Don’t spend it all at once.’

Dunbar grabbed at the envelope. As Halpin walked behind him he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a large flick knife. Dunbar started to turn when he heard the blade click into place but it was too late.  Halpin put his left hand over Dunbar’s mouth and drew the knife across his throat in one smooth movement. Blood gurgled between Dunbar’s lips and he slumped to the ground, his hands clasped to the gaping wound. His body went into convulsions but after a few seconds it went still as a pool of blood continued to spread across the carpet.

Halpin wiped the knife clean on a dishcloth then put it and the envelope of money into his coat pocket. He spent the next ten minutes making it look as if the house had been broken into and Dunbar killed by a burglar. The area where the private eye lived was a burglary hotspot and all the police needed to see was a broken window and that Dunbar’s watch, wallet and BluRay player were missing for them to assume it was a drug addict looking to pay for his latest fix.

CHAPTER 48

Carolyn knocked on the door to Sinead O’Brien’s office.  There was a plastic sign with her name and, underneath it, CASTING. ‘It’s open,’ called Sinead.

Carolyn opened the door. Sinead was texting on her BlackBerry and she looked up and smiled when she saw Carolyn. ‘Give me a minute,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to get an Asian model with short hair.’

Carolyn nodded and sat down. There were whiteboards all around the walls of Sinead’s office plastered with photographs of actors and actresses.  In pride of place behind the desk was the whiteboard containing the pictures of the main characters on the show with Carolyn and Seb’s head and shoulders in the centre.

‘Okay, done,’ said Sinead. ‘How the hell are you? Haven’t seen you for days.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Carolyn. ‘Just wanted to pick your brains. Fancy a cigarette break? I’ve got a pass for fifteen minutes.’

Sinead nodded enthusiastically. ‘I’m gasping,’ she said. She grabbed her cigarettes and lighter and followed Carolyn outside.

There were half a dozen people in the designated smoking area but they found a spot where they couldn’t be overhead.  They lit their cigarettes and both inhaled gratefully.

Carolyn liked Sinead.  She was from Belfast and had black hair and blue eyes and a figure that showed her love of Italian food cooked by her Italian husband, a talented chef with whom she’d had two children.  ‘You want to ask me about yesterday’s meeting, don’t you,’ she said.

‘Am I that transparent?’ asked Carolyn.

‘You haven’t said a word to me in four weeks,’ she said. ‘I figured you must want something.’

‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know who else I can talk to.’

‘Really? I thought you had an in with that new writer, Jeff.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because he was singing your praises. He almost got to blows with Simon Hastings.’

Hastings was the lead writer on the show.  ‘About what?’

‘I’m not supposed to talk about the meeting,’ she said.

‘What, it’s turning into Fight Club, is it?’

Sinead laughed. ‘I’ll tell you, of course I will, but mum’s the word and you didn’t hear anything from me.’

Carolyn had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was certain she was going to hear bad news. ‘Sure. Of course.’

Sinead blew a plume of smoke up into the leaden sky before continuing.  ‘Hastings wants a clear out of the cast. He wants to bring in new blood. He thinks a young cast will boost ratings.’

‘Shit,’ said Carolyn.

‘Jeff said he thought you were a vital part of the cast and that your character should be at the forefront of any storylines.’

‘That was nice of him.

‘Carolyn and Jeff, sitting in a tree,’ sang Sinead. ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G.’

‘Very funny,’ said Carolyn.

‘Seriously, he’s a fan. And Sally is, too.’

‘Now that surprises me,’ said Carolyn.

‘No, seriously. Sally is right behind you. Lisa was siding with Hastings and I think they had a power play thing going on. Oh, and that little runt, Martin, is with them. He really has something against you.’

‘Does he now?’

Sinead nodded. ‘He said you couldn’t act your way out of a paper bag, but you didn’t hear that from me. He wants you to go out in a blaze of glory, a car inferno or a rape-murder.’

Carolyn gritted her teeth. ‘Bastard.’

‘Don’t worry, Sally knocked that straight back. But you need to watch Martin, he’s got it in for you.  And with him, Lisa and Hastings on your back, you’ve got a rough road ahead of you.’ She flicked ash away.

‘I had a feeling something like this was going to happen. So where do I stand?’

‘Sally’s allowing the writers to introduce new characters. And Andrea is going to get a big push. But you and Seb will stay centre stage, for the next three months anyway. At that point, they’ll talk to focus groups and see how the new characters are being received.’

‘That’s better than nothing, I suppose.’

‘Sally’s in your corner, and Jeff is keen to write for you. And you know Paul is on your side.’ Sinead took a long pull on her cigarette.

Carolyn sighed.  ‘It’s a nasty business, isn’t it?’

‘TV? Always has been. But it’s worse now that the network controls everything. These days you only have to piss off one set of suits and your career is over. But seriously, Carolyn. Sally is on your side.’

‘Until the focus groups start saying they want more teenagers. Then she’ll have me out of the door faster than you can say Holby City.’ She dropped her cigarette butt onto the ground and stamped on it. ‘Still, I’ve got three months.’

‘And a lot can happen in three months. Network executives come and go, you know that.’

Carolyn nodded. ‘Thanks for the pep talk. And thanks for the info.’

CHAPTER 49

Terry poured red wine into Carolyn’s glass. ‘That better not be Ribena,’ she said. ‘I spent all morning sipping blackcurrant juice.’

‘Darling, this is a Nuits St Georges and it cost Gabe thirty quid a bottle.’ They were in Terry’s home, sprawled on a sofa in front of the television.  Carolyn had been shooting on location until nine o’clock, scenes of her arriving at the townhouse they used as Diana’s home and a scene from another episode where she and Seb were having an argument. That had been quite good fun because she got to slap Seb across the face and Harrington had made her do it half a dozen times from different angles.

The house wasn’t far from Terry’s place so Carolyn had asked him if she could pop around. She wasn’t planning on being there for long so Billy was waiting for her outside in the Mercedes. She’d asked if he’d wanted to come inside to wait but, ever the professional, he said he’d stay with the car.  On reflection, he had probably made the right choice – Terry didn’t live in the best of areas and there was every chance they’d get back to the car to find it on bricks with the wheels missing. She sipped the wine and sighed appreciatively. ‘Now that is nice,’ she said. ‘Well worth Gabe’s money. Where is he, by the way?’

‘He’s gone to see his grandmum. She not getting any better.’

‘And he still hasn’t told her he’s gay?’

Terry shook his head. ‘The thing is, with her Alzheimer’s he could tell and she’d forget about it within hours. But he says she’s lived this long without knowing and he doesn’t want to cause her any distress now. His mum and dad know and they’re cool about it. About the gay thing, anyway. The dad’s still coming to terms with the fact I’m black.’

‘Seriously?’

‘He pretends to be cool about it, but I can see it in his eyes that he’s not comfortable.’

‘You’ll grow on him, babe,’ said Carolyn.

‘That’s what Gabe says. So dish me the dirt on Richards. What’s the story?’

‘My private dick has checked him out,’ she said.

‘Darling, I love it when you talk dirty. But really, you should have got a better class of detective. You know,  Magnum butch or Hazell cute. Maxwell Dunbar is just a sleazebag.’

‘Terry, you’ve got to stop watching those old TV shows.’

‘Come on, Nicholas Ball in the Eighties, couldn’t you just eat him alive?’

‘I think you’ll find Hazell was late Seventies,’ said Carolyn. ‘He was good in EastEnders, remember?  Played a gangster. What was his name?’ She grinned. ‘Terry, that was it. Terry Bates.’

‘Who the hell comes up with these names?’

‘The writers?’

‘Yeah, but Terry Bates? How is that a villain’s name? Now Warwick Richards, that’s a classy name for a villain.’

‘But he’s not,’ said Carolyn. ‘Not a villain. That’s what Max says, anyway.’

‘He’s sure?’

‘Says he’s spoken to the cops and he doesn’t have a record.’

‘That’s good news,’ said Terry. ‘I suppose. Or is it?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged.  ‘It would have made more sense if he was a gangster or had been inside for assault.’

‘Nice guys don’t commit murder? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘He’s handsome and charming. Hard to think of him as a killer.’

‘Ted Bundy was handsome and charming,’ said Terry.

‘You’re not helping,’ said Carolyn. ‘And you’ve clearly got a thing about Ted Bundy.’ She sipped her wine and sighed. ‘I’m so bloody confused.’

‘Why?’

‘Because there’s still this nagging doubt at the back of my mind it was him I saw in Cohen’s house.’

‘Darling, was it or wasn’t it? It’s a simple enough question.’

She sighed again.  ‘I don’t know for sure it was him, and I don’t know for sure it wasn’t. I mean, yes, when I saw him I thought he looked like the guy I saw in the house. But maybe that’s because he’s tall and good-looking and has dark hair.’

‘Carolyn, is it him or not?’

‘That’s the thing, I really don’t know for sure. If I was in court and a barrister asked me was I absolutely one-hundred percent sure, I couldn’t say hand on heart that I was. And what if he has an alibi? I mean, what if it wasn’t him and I say it was and it turns out he was in the nightclub that night and he’s got a hundred witnesses. How am I going to look then?’

‘You’re over-thinking it again, darling.’

‘I’m just considering the options. When I saw him at the charity do, I was sort of sure it was him. At first. But then he sat down and talked to me and I wasn’t so sure. And now, when I think back to that night, it’s Warwick’s face I see. But is that because I’ve met him? I’d been drinking. It was late at night. I might be wrong. And he doesn’t drive a Bentley. He has a Porsche. A Cayenne.’

‘I wouldn’t trust a man who drives a car named after a condiment,’ said Terry. ‘Besides, he could have switched cars.’

‘Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve,’ said Carolyn. ‘And he didn’t know Cohen. If he didn’t know Cohen, why would he kill him?’

Terry poured more wine into their glasses. ‘I don’t know what more you want to do.’

Her mobile phone rang and she picked up her bag. She pulled out her phone and looked at the screen. ‘Speak of the devil,’ she said.

‘Cohen?’ said Terry, frowning.

‘Warwick.’

CHAPTER 50

 ‘Maybe she’s ignoring you,’ said Halpin. He puffed on his cigar and blew smoke up at the ceiling. He was sitting on one of the two massive white leather Italian sofas that dominated the Clerkenwell flat where Richards lived. Richards was pacing up and down in front of the cast iron fireplace that was almost as tall he was. The fireplace had once been in a stately home that belonged to a second cousin of the Queen and it had cost Richards a small fortune. They’d had to use a crane to get it through the window of the fourth floor flat.   It was on the top floor, and Richards owned the three flats below. He had bought the flats one at a time, then acquired the freehold, but he only used the top flat. He was planning to convert the lower floors into a gymnasium, a sauna and a games room but was having trouble finding a designer who was on his wavelength.

‘You sure Dunbar gave me the all-clear?’

‘He said the sun shone out of your arse, pretty much.’

‘While I remember it, where’s the five grand?’

Halpin chuckled and took the envelope from his pocket and dropped it onto the coffee table. ‘I was just waiting for the right moment,’ he said.

‘Of course you were,’ he said. He held up his hand, telling Halpin to be quiet. Carolyn had answered the call. ‘Carolyn, how are you?’ he asked.

‘Tired,’ she said.