Take Two (A psychological thriller) (33 page)

The woman nodded.  Marriott sat down on the sofa next to Mrs McKenzie while Biddulph dropped down into an armchair.  It was a small room with a gas fire that flickered and hissed and, above it, was a framed portrait of Jesus with eyes that seemed to be looking into Biddulph’s soul.  There was a large wooden clock on the mantelpiece that ticked loudly, counting off the seconds. Either side of it were framed photographs. One of them was a much younger Mrs McKenzie on her wedding day, standing next to her proud husband.  Biddulph realised with a jolt what a stunningly pretty woman she had been in her twenties – bright eyes, sensuous lips, high cheekbones and long curly blonde hair. She had the legs of a catwalk model and the breasts of a lingerie model and it was clear from the look in her husband’s eyes how much he adored her. It was hard to reconcile the beautiful girl in the picture with the grey-haired, plump lady with the tear-stained face and gnarled hands sitting on the sofa next to Marriott.

‘Mrs McKenzie, do you know if Reg was worried about anything?’ asked Marriott. ‘Was he having problems with anyone?’

Mrs McKenzie frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your husband?’

Her frown deepened. ‘Why would anyone want to hurt Reg?’

Marriott looked across at Biddulph and he could see from the helpless look in her eyes that she was struggling.

‘We think your husband was killed during a robbery,’ said Biddulph. ‘We’re fairly sure it was a random thing, that your husband was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.  But just in case, we have to check to see if there were any reasons why someone might want to kill him.’

‘He was shot,’ said Mrs McKenzie.  She pulled a lace handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Why would anyone shoot my Reg?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ said Biddulph. ‘Did he owe anyone money?’

‘Just the bank. For the mortgage.’

‘And no one threatened him? Or was arguing with him?’

Mrs McKenzie shook her head and sniffed.  ‘Everyone loved Reg,’ she said. ‘He didn’t have a bad bone in his body.’ She began to cry.

Marriott reached over and held the woman’s hand. ‘Mrs McKenzie, do you have any relatives who can come and sit with you?’

‘My daughter was here this morning.’ She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘She’ll be back in half an hour.’

Marriott looked over at the mantelpiece and pointed at one of the photographs. ‘That’s Carolyn Castle, isn’t it?’ she asked.

Mrs McKenzie looked across at the photograph. It was in a garish red frame. ‘Yes, Reg got it for me.’

‘What, he bought it, you mean?’

Mrs McKenzie shook her head. ‘No, he got her to sign it for me.’ She pushed herself out of her armchair and waddled over to the framed photograph. She smiled at it. ‘To Debs, with love,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that nice, calling me Debs like that. It’s like she’s a real friend.’  She handed the framed photograph to Marriott.

‘We met her, last week,’ said Marriott, looking at the signature. ‘I never thought of it but I should have asked her for her autograph then.’

‘Are you a fan?’ asked Mrs McKenzie, waddling back to her chair and sitting down.

‘Very much so,’ said Marriott. ‘I watch Rags To Riches whenever I can, but I’m on shifts so it’s not easy.’ She held up the picture. ‘So how did Reg get this for you? Was he at the studio?’

‘No, she posted it a couple of days after he met her. She said she’d send me a signed picture and she was as good as her word.’

‘And how did he meet her?’ asked Marriott. She looked over at Biddulph. The inspector gave her an almost imperceptible nod, letting her know he was happy with her questioning.

‘It was the strangest thing,’ said Mrs McKenzie. ‘He gave her a lift. She was in the middle of nowhere. With no shoes. Can you believe that?’

‘That does sound strange. Where did he pick her up?’

‘Somewhere in Surrey. It was Friday night and he was on his way back to London. He ended up taking her right to her door. Notting Hill, I think. One of those posh mansions, she has.’

Marriot stood up and put the picture back on the shelf. ‘It’s a lovely thing to have.’

‘It was so nice of Reg to do it for me.’ She sighed deeply. ‘He was always doing little things like that for me. Flowers.  Ferrero Rocher chocolates. Little presents.’  Tears welled up in her eyes again and she reached for her box of tissues. ‘Why would anyone kill my Reg? He wouldn’t hurt a fly, would Reg. You couldn’t meet a lovelier man.’  She burst into tears as Marriott and Biddulph looked on helplessly.

CHAPTER 86

Peter Sessions was on his way out of his office to meet a client at one of his favourite restaurants when his phone rang. He hesitated at the door. He’d been looking forward to his Ivy lunch all day and really didn’t want to be late. What was left of his professionalism kicked in and he walked over to his desk, determined to keep the call short.  He picked up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ he said. If it was someone offering to sue his bank for mortgage insurance, he was quite prepared to curse.

‘Is that Peter Sessions?’

It was a woman, Australian by the sound of it. He realised a fraction of a second before she said her name that it was Carolyn’s sister.

‘This is Jenny Hall, I’m Carolyn’s sister.’

‘Yes, my dear,’ he said. ‘I’ve been your sister’s agent for many years. I was talking to Paul Day, he said you’d stepped in to save the day on Rags To Riches.’

‘Just until she turns up, yes.’

‘She hasn’t been in touch?’

‘No.’

Sessions sucked air between his teeth. ‘That’s a problem.’

‘You’re telling me. She was supposed to pick me up at the airport.’

‘The thing is, my dear, has Paul given you a contract?’

‘A contract? No?’

‘Well you really do need a contract. How much is he paying you?’

‘We haven’t discussed that,’ said Jenny.

Sessions laughed. ‘Well, really, that’s not good enough,’ he said. ‘There are fees that have to be paid and Paul knows that. It sounds to me as if he’s taking advantage of you.’

‘Oh, no, he’s being really sweet.’

‘Paul is sweet. But he’s also one of the toughest producers in London. You need someone fighting in your corner.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I know so, my dear. Now, why don’t you let me represent you? I’ll do for you exactly what I do for Carolyn.’

‘That’s probably a good idea,’ said Jenny.

‘Excellent. I’ll get a contract sent over and once you’ve signed it I’ll talk to Paul. And there’s something else I wanted to ask you. I’ve had a supermarket on to me asking if Carolyn could do an opening for them on Saturday. Would you be up for that?’

‘You mean pretend to be her?’

‘Well, you’re already doing that,’ said Sessions. ‘They want you in character. It’s Diana Bourne they want, and from what Paul tells me, at the moment you are Diana Bourne.’

‘I’m really not sure I’m up for it, Peter. I’m finding the acting bit stressful enough. I don’t think I’d be comfortable opening a supermarket.’

‘They’ll pay six thousand pounds.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Very much so. And all you have to do is turn up, cut a ribbon and pose for a few photographs. As Diana Bourne. It’s just another acting job.’

‘Six thousand pounds?’ repeated Jenny.

Peter smiled to himself. ‘Minus my commission, of course,’ he said.

‘I suppose I could do it,’ she said.

‘Excellent. I’ll bike a contract and details to you at the studio this afternoon,’ he said. ‘The supermarket company will send a car, obviously.’

‘That’s okay, I’m make my own way there,’ said Jenny. ‘Look, Peter, do I tell them I’m not Carolyn?’

‘’To be honest, my dear, it would be simpler if you didn’t. They want Diana Bourne and that’s what they’re getting. No reason to make things more complicated than they already are.’

CHAPTER 87

The two detectives stood next to their Vauxhall Vectra. ‘So what do you think?’ asked Marriott. ‘It is a coincidence? Two men that Carolyn Castle comes into contact with are both murdered?’

Biddulph shrugged.  ‘Everyone is six steps removed from everyone else in the world.’  Three more hoodies had joined the group across the road and now two joints were being passed around.

‘You believe that? Can you get to the president of the United States in six steps?’

‘Easy,’ said Biddulph. ‘In less than that. I met the Commissioner once. He’s met the Prime Minister. The Prime Minister has met the President. So I get to the President of the United States in three moves. You get there in four because you know me. Through the President you get to pretty much anyone who matters in the world. So yeah, I think it’s probably true. But the big question is, what connects Carolyn Castle to Maxwell Dunbar and Reg McKenzie?’

‘Dunbar worked for her and McKenzie picked her up in the middle of nowhere. Without her shoes.’

‘That’s the interesting thing, isn’t it?’ agreed Biddulph. ‘Can you think of a reason why a woman would ditch her shoes?’

‘If she was running,’ said Marriott.

‘That’s what I was thinking.’ He looked at his watch. It was just after six o’clock. ‘Do you feel like paying her a visit, strike while the iron’s hot?’

Marriott grinned. ‘I’m fine, but inspectors don’t get overtime so it’s your call.’

‘Let’s do it,’ said Biddulph.  ‘I’ll drive while you see if you can get a home address for her.’ He unlocked the door and climbed in to the driver’s seat.

Marriott had no trouble getting Carolyn Castle’s address as she had a number of speeding tickets so her details were on the Police National Computer. The traffic was heavy and it took the best part of an hour to drive to Notting Hill Gate. They managed to park a short distance from her front door. As they walked towards the house, a large Mercedes stopped in front and Carolyn Castle got out.

She waved at the driver and the Mercedes drove off. Biddulph was sure she had seen them but she turned away and walked up to her front door. ‘Miss Castle!’ he called, but there was no reaction. She took her keys out of her bag and opened the front door. ‘Miss Castle!’ Biddulph called again.

As she stepped inside the house, Biddulph ran up to the front door. ‘Miss Castle!’ he said.

She frowned at him, the door half closed. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

‘Inspector Mark Biddulph. I spoke to you last week.’

She shook her head. ‘Not me you didn’t.’

‘Is there something wrong, Miss Castle?’ asked Biddulph.  Sergeant Marriott joined him on the doorstep. ‘And what’s with the Australian accent?’

‘I’m not Carolyn,’ she said. ‘But I am Australian.’

‘Miss Castle, are you okay?’ asked Marriott.

‘I’m Carolyn’s sister. Jenny Hall.’

‘Her sister?’ said Biddulph.

‘Twin sister,’ said Jenny.

‘Would you mind showing me some identification, Miss Hall?’ asked Biddulph.

Jenny fished her wallet out of her bag and flicked through it until she found a driving licence. She held it out and Biddulph took it from her. It was an Australian licence with her photograph and the name Jenny Hall.

‘I’m sorry about the confusion,’ he said, handing the licence back to her. ‘Miss Castle didn’t mention she had a sister.’

‘I’m the black sheep of the family,’ she said.

‘Can we talk to her?’ asked Biddulph.

‘She’s not here right now,’ said Jenny.

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Biddulph. ‘You mean she’s missing?’

‘I’ve just got here, and she hasn’t been around for a few days.’

‘Has someone reported her missing?’

‘I spoke to her bosses at the production company and they said not to worry, that she sometimes checks herself into a clinic.’

‘Why?’ asked Biddulph.

‘To dry out,’ said Jenny. She made a drinking motion with her hand. ‘My sister has a bit of a drinking problem.  Not like me. I drink too much, I fall over. No problem.’ She laughed. ‘Sorry. Old joke.’

‘So you’re saying she’s in a clinic somewhere?’

‘I don’t know. She’s only missed two days at work and they say she’s done it before. Plus they’ve been having arguments over the show. You should talk to the producer, Paul Day.’

‘What sort of arguments?’ asked Biddulph.

‘I’m really not sure.  About her role, I think. Stuff like that. But like I said, you need to talk to Paul Day.’

Biddulph looked up at the house. ‘And you’re staying here now?’

Jenny nodded. ‘I told Carolyn I was coming over a couple of weeks ago. She was supposed to collect me at the airport but she didn’t turn up.’

‘So how did you get into the house ?’ asked Biddulph.

‘She left a set of keys for me and I knew the burglar alarm code.’

‘Who did she leave the keys with?’ asked Biddulph.

‘She left them under a rock,’ said Jenny.

‘A rock?’

Jenny smiled. ‘In the back garden. A plastic rock. She always leaves a set there, has done for as long as she’s had the house. I can show you if you want.’

‘No, that’s okay,’ said Biddulph. ‘I have to say, Miss Hall, you seem very relaxed about your sister’s disappearance.’

‘I was a lot less relaxed when I first got here, but no one else seems to be worried so I thought I’d wait a few days and see if she turns up. Can I ask you why you want to talk to her?’

‘It’s part of an on-going investigation. When she does turn up could you ask her to call me?’ Biddulph took a business card from his wallet and gave it to her. 

Jenny studied the card and nodded. ‘Absolutely,’ she said.

CHAPTER 88

The entry phone buzzed and Richards jumped. Every time it sounded he expected to see Carolyn on the screen, soaking wet and back to haunt him. He walked over to the unit, his heart pounding, but it was only Halpin. ‘Can I come up, boss?’ he asked.

Richards buzzed him in and fetched a bottle of brandy from his drinks cabinet. He poured himself a slug and another for Halpin. He tossed in ice cubes and had Halpin’s drink ready for him when the lift doors opened.

‘Cheers, boss,’ said Halpin, taking the glass.