When Night Closes in (22 page)

She shook her head. ‘I don't know anything. It sounds stupid, I know. All I'm guilty of is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

He sighed. ‘Anything, even the slightest detail, might help me get somewhere in all this. It's like peeling an onion, skin after skin and no clue to what's underneath.'

Lowri drank more coffee, the hot sweet taste giving her courage. She looked directly into Lainey's eyes and he blinked.

‘I swear to you, Jim, on my mother's life I am innocent of any crime,' she said earnestly. ‘I am telling you the truth, I am baffled, and if you want to know I'm bloody scared, as well.'

‘Why?' He sat up straighter. ‘Has anyone threatened you?'

She shook her head. ‘Not if I forget the brick thrown through my window and the intruder who broke into the house.' She forced a smile. ‘But I take care to lock and bolt the doors and windows and I lay traps at night for anyone else who might try to break in.'

‘What sort of traps?'

‘You know, saucepans on the window-sills, plates ranged around the front door. All designed to make a row. Then I keep the phone by the bed, just in case all else fails.'

Lainey studied her for a long moment. ‘Perhaps someone is protecting you.'

‘Protecting me? Who and why?'

He tapped his pen on the desk, a habit he had when he was thinking. But what was he thinking? Lowri would have given anything to be able to read his mind.

‘Jon Brandon guarding his investments perhaps?' He lifted his head. ‘You know that your employer, Mr Watson, was once friendly with your family, don't you?'

‘Yes,' Lowri said, surprised by the abrupt change of subject. ‘Though I can't see what that's got to do with anything.'

‘Humour me. Some years ago, Mr Watson and your father worked together in partnership.' He glanced up. ‘Nothing illegal, I hasten to add, just the opposite, it was a very respectable business.'

‘I knew they once were friends,' Lowri was puzzled, ‘but I had the idea they fell out over something; at any rate, Mr Watson doesn't seem all that keen on my father. With reason, I'm sure,' she added dryly.

‘Business partners often move on and forget about each other.'

Lowri looked at him, wondering if there was a barb behind his words, but he did not meet her eyes.

‘Watson and your father operated an advisory service for business people.'

‘What about it?' Lowri said. ‘I can't see where this is going, to be honest.'

Lainey began pen-tapping again. Lowri longed to reach out and cover his hand with her own. She waited for him to speak, sipping her quickly cooling coffee.

‘I believe they had a serious quarrel. From what I have managed to find out there were legal implications. Your father, it seems, came out of the partnership the richer of the two men.' He put down his pen. ‘I wondered if your father was putting pressure on Watson to look after you.'

‘You must be joking!' Lowri wrapped her hands around her coffee-mug, clutching it as if for support. ‘My father doesn't even know who I'm working for and if he did, he couldn't care less.' She leaned forward. ‘In any case, protecting me from what, from whom? You want me to talk to you but you don't talk to me. Why should I need protecting? I haven't done anything.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘I'm sure.'

He leaned back in his chair, his voice casual. ‘Lowri, tell me about your life. I want to know all about you.'

Was this personal now or business? Lowri could not tell. ‘Why?'

‘I just do.'

She smiled. ‘OK, but prepare yourself for the most boring interview of your career.'

Matthew Brown stared out of the window at next door's dog running riot in the flower-beds. The weekends when he did not work were a drag. He hated to be alone. He banged the glass but, after a moment's hesitation, the dog began digging again. He pushed the window wide open, looking for something to throw.

‘Get out of my garden, you mangy mongrel!' he shouted. Shortly after, he heard a whistle from next door and the dog scampered away. That little exercise had done nothing for any good-neighbour policy but so what, so bloody what? Matthew had other things to think about. She had wonderful legs, eyes to drown in and she was an enigma. He had lusted after Lowri Richards ever since he first set eyes on her. And was he ever tired of playing Mr Nice Guy!

On an impulse, he picked up the phone and dialled Lowri's number. The phone rang several times before he heard her voice come over the line.

‘Lowri, I'm glad you're in,' he said. ‘It's Matthew Brown, I want to see you.' Before she had time to make excuses, he spoke again. ‘It's a little bit of unofficial police business.'

‘I've heard that somewhere before from Ken Major. I hope this is not just a pathetic attempt to get me into bed. Perhaps I should inform you police officers that I'm not an easy lay.'

She spoke edgily and who could blame her? ‘It's nothing like that! I think we should talk. Come to my place, I'll leave all the doors and windows open if you'll feel safer.'

She was silent for a moment and he thought she was going to refuse. ‘OK, Matthew, I'll be there in half an hour.'

Matthew gave Lowri his address, replaced the receiver and looked around him. The place was a bit of a mess; perhaps he should tidy up before she came. He was excited by the thought of having Lowri on his own. It had been some days since he had seen her and then she had been in company, Ken Major's company, while he had been stuck with Sally. But he would need to be careful, no point in scaring Lowri away by criticizing her friend.

In his bedroom he picked up several pairs of socks and some underpants and then flung the duvet over the bed, smoothing out the creases as best he could. It was a long shot that he could get her into the sack but there was nothing like hoping, and at least she was more of a challenge than silly little Sally White had ever been.

The kitchen was a bit of a disaster area so he took a bottle of white wine from the fridge and picked up some glasses. Then, with a last look at the chaos, he closed the kitchen door.

When Lowri arrived, she looked cool and sophisticated in a navy suit. Her hair hung to her shoulders, framing her face, giving it an almost elfin look. She was a beautiful woman, but unobtainable. What was it about her?

‘So,' Lowri said, ‘what's the unofficial business then?'

Matthew looked at her legs, slender, black-clad and tempting. A sense of almost unbearable lust filled him. He was a man who needed women, needed a lot of them and often.

She seemed composed, but her hands trembled as she folded them in her lap. ‘What's happened, Matthew? Are the police any nearer to finding out anything about Sally?'

‘Well . . .' Matthew wanted to prolong the meeting and instinct told him that once her curiosity was satisfied, Lowri would just get up and leave. In any case, it was not in his interests to reveal too much information; suspicions might be aroused if Lowri started asking questions in the wrong quarter. ‘Well, it's difficult. Have a drink?'

‘Tea?' she said helpfully.

‘How about a glass of white wine? It's not going to knock you out, I promise.'

She looked at him and then at the glasses. He read her mind and decided to come clean.

‘It's the kitchen, it's a mess.' He shrugged. ‘I haven't washed the dishes or cleaned up or anything so I thought we would have some wine, less bother.'

‘I'm driving.' Lowri took off her jacket and his gaze was riveted on her breasts as the soft material of her blouse clung to her. He coughed.

‘Come on,' she said, rolling up her sleeves. ‘I'll help you to clean up in exchange for a decent cuppa. The wine is out, as I said, I'm driving.'

He winced as he followed her into the kitchen; it looked worse than ever seen through Lowri's eyes. She pushed some empty milk bottles aside. ‘Any washing-up liquid?' He picked the bottle out of the debris on the draining-board.

‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't let you . . . I mean it's not fair.'

Lowri was already running the water, letting it get hot. She took the piled-up dishes from the sink and plonked them on the side.

‘Didn't your mother ever tell you how to wash up properly?' she asked. ‘You do the cleanest or, in this case, the least dirty things first. Glasses, cutlery and then the plates with the dried-on leftovers.'

She washed up efficiently and he stood watching her, wondering at the sense of peace the sight of her was giving him. Was he going soft in the head? She glanced over her shoulder.

‘See if you can find a half decent tea towel and start drying.'

They worked together in silence, the scene needing only the morning news on the radio to complete the atmosphere of happy domesticity. He
was
going soft in the head, no doubt about it. All too soon, Lowri was finished.

‘I'm not offering to put the dishes away for you.' She smiled. ‘I'm afraid that I might see a piggy mess in your cupboards and I'm not starting on shelves, not on my day off.'

She returned to the lounge while he made some coffee. For the first time Matthew envied the married men in the service. Playing the field was all very well but there came a time when a man needed stability in his life, and there was no harm in having a bit on the side as well.

‘Right, no more beating about the bush, what have you got to tell me?' She leaned forward expectantly. He saw the long white arch of her neck and the gleam of lipstick on her mouth and realized he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Lowri Richards. The fact that DI Lainey had an eye for her made the situation all the more intriguing.

‘I'm waiting. Is this about Sally?'

He glanced up at her. ‘It's not anything to do with Sally, I'm afraid, but I thought you would want to know anyway. It's about Jon Brandon.'

‘Jon? Please, just get on with it, Matthew.'

‘A small case he was planning to export has been discovered, down at the docks.' He sipped the coffee; it was so hot it burnt his tongue. ‘Blast!' The cup jolted in the saucer, spilling hot liquid onto the table.

Lowri fetched a dishcloth from the kitchen and mopped up the mess. ‘Were you born awkward, Matthew, or did it need training?' She was laughing at him and he did not like it. ‘Do you want to hear this or don't you?' he said sharply.

She held up her hand; her nails were painted with some pink colour, very discreet, not like the garish polish Sally had favoured.

‘OK, sorry, I am all attention.'

‘Well, the customs declaration form says the case contains computer things, CDs and some other chips and stuff. It's all Greek to me.'

‘So?'

‘So it was due to be exported by Jon Brandon a couple of months ago, somehow it was overlooked.' He stared at her, waiting to gauge her expression. ‘The stuff was meant for Canada and was addressed to one Justin Richards. Coincidence or what?'

Was it his imagination that she seemed suddenly to be alert? She lifted her cup, holding it with both hands, her slim fingers meeting around the china as if to comfort herself.

‘Have the contents of the case been examined?' She held the cup to her mouth and the steam from the liquid seemed to cast a moistness on her parted lips. He wanted to leap on her, to carry her to his bed, to ravish her.

‘Not yet. The customs and excise people are onto it and one of our lot, possibly Lainey, will be there at the great opening.'

Lowri put down her cup. She was frowning, she seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘But what do they hope to find? Computer parts are not exactly contraband goods, are they?'

Matthew shrugged. ‘I don't really know.' He could not reveal too much – Lowri was pretty friendly with Lainey. In any case, it was possible she knew more than he did and was acting the part of the innocent to perfection.

‘Matthew, is that it? Is that what you've dragged me over here to tell me?' She rose to her feet. ‘So some stuff of Jon's has been overlooked, left at the docks. What's that got to do with me?'

‘Well,' Matthew said slowly, ‘I thought you might know this Justin Richards, that's all, same name and all that. Inquiries are being made about him as we speak.' He wondered if he should reveal a little more.

‘The thing is, the customs boys think there's something else hidden among the stuff. It's not drugs, the dogs would have sniffed them out. But it's something illegal, you can bet on it.'

‘What?' Lowri seemed exasperated. ‘What do you all think it is?' She turned to look at him. ‘You're not being entirely honest with me, are you, Matthew?'

‘I can't say too much, Lowri.' He was aware he sounded smug but he did not expect the anger that flashed from her eyes.

‘In other words you don't trust me, is that it?' She turned away from him, her shoulders hunched. ‘You still think I might be a criminal; you've got me here not to tell me what
you
know but to find out what
I
know. Well, believe me, I don't know anything. Can't any of you get that through your thick heads? Did Lainey put you up to this?'

If she was acting then she was damn good at it, but, like most policemen, he had heard enough convincing liars in his career to be wary of righteous indignation. He sighed heavily.

‘Lainey knows nothing at all about this meeting – my head would be on the block if he did, I'm telling you.'

‘Well, what
is
going on, Matthew? Come on, speculate, you're a policeman, aren't you? Do a bit of brainwork, make guesses, anything.'

‘All right,' Matthew said. ‘I think that smuggling is going on here, not of heroin or arms or anything obvious like that, but it could be extortion involving money-laundering.'

He saw her sink back into her chair. She seemed to be digesting what he had just said, evaluating it. Then she shook her head.