Andrew Everton thinks for a moment. Elizabeth suspects there are all sorts of forms he would need to fill in to make this happen. Protocols.
‘I think I could,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘I think that sounds a very good idea. See what we can see.’
‘See what we can see,’ agrees Elizabeth. ‘I knew we’d get along.’
‘What was the other favour?’ asks Andrew Everton.
‘There’s a money-launderer trying to kill me,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Trying to kill Joyce too, but that’s between us. I wonder if you might spare a couple of officers to guard us for a while?’
‘A money-launderer?’ says Andrew Everton.
‘Best in the world, they say. Let’s hope he’s not such a good assassin.’
‘Let me look into it,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘That might be quite hard to explain away.’
‘I’m sure you’ll try your best,’ says Elizabeth. ‘And you might just catch the biggest money-launderer in the world in the process. That feels like something that would be good for your career.’
Andrew Everton smiles. ‘This has been an unexpected pleasure.’
‘Well, strap in,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Next time I see you I expect you to have a spade in your hand.’
Elizabeth stands to leave. This has all been most satisfactory. If anyone can get permission to dig up a back garden, it’s a chief constable. Andrew Everton rises with her.
‘Before you go,’ says Andrew Everton, ‘I have a question for you.’
‘People usually do,’ says Elizabeth. She senses Andrew Everton is nervous. ‘Fire away.’
‘I need an honest answer,’ says Andrew Everton.
‘If an honest answer is available, you shall have it,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Your friend Joyce …’ says Andrew Everton.
‘What about her?’ says Elizabeth.
‘Did she really say she was enjoying my book?’
58
Donna has very quickly come to understand that one of the key functions of a television make-up room is to be a central hub for all and any gossip.
Though, on this occasion, she is going to have to tread carefully.
Donna is back on South East Tonight to discuss online fraud. Dodgy emails or texts pretending to be from banks. Fake dating profiles. Basically, any of the number of ways someone can part you from your cash without ever having to actually meet you. She has been doing homework all afternoon.
‘A little bird tells me you live in Juniper Court,’ says Donna.
Pauline pauses for a moment. Donna has to keep this as light as possible. They had run all the car registration numbers. The white Peugeot with flames on the number plate belongs to Pauline.
Pauline continues teasing Donna’s hair into shape. ‘That little bird wouldn’t be Bogdan, would it?’
‘Maybe,’ says Donna. ‘We’ve been trying to keep it quiet.’
‘Can’t hide anything from a make-up artist,’ says Pauline. ‘You landed on your feet there, what a fella. I’d climb him like a tree.’
Donna smiles and keeps it chatty. ‘You been there long?’
‘Juniper Court? Donkey’s years,’ says Pauline. ‘You can walk to the studio, it’s perfect.’
So there it is, the information she was here to get. Pauline has lived at Juniper Court for years. Which means she will have been living there the night Bethany died. Which, in turn, potentially makes her the chief suspect in the murder of Bethany Waites. Things are moving uncomfortably fast for Donna.
Pauline taps Donna’s forehead. ‘Relax, you’re frowning. The make-up chair isn’t for thinking.’
‘Sorry,’ says Donna. She takes the briefest of glances at Pauline in the mirror. Pauline gives her a reassuring smile.
What reason would Pauline have for murdering Bethany Waites? What was buried in the past? What about the notes? Had Pauline written them? Chris and Donna are keeping this new line of enquiry secret from the Thursday Murder Club. For a number of obvious reasons. But if Bethany had been visiting Pauline that night, they wouldn’t be able to keep it secret for much longer. It was too much of a coincidence, Bethany visiting the building where Pauline lived. There had to be a connection.
‘That’s why I moved to Juniper Court in the first place,’ says Pauline, over the sound of her hairdryer now. ‘Loads of the crew live there. Cameras, sound, all sorts. The show even keeps a couple of flats there, you know, freelancers come down for a few months, that’s where they get put up. Mike had a place there years back. It’s like a hall of residence half the time.’
Donna nods. Well, that complicates things. If it’s true. All sorts of people Bethany might have known. All sorts of people she might have been visiting. Donna needs more information.
‘Bethany ever visit?’ Donna asks. Trying to be casual, but over the sound of the hairdryer.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Would Bethany have ever visited Juniper Court?’
‘I’d have thought so,’ says Pauline. ‘People were in and out. Fiona Clemence had a thing with one of the camera ops who lived there. It was open house.’
‘Did she ever visit you there?’ Donna asks.
‘Me? No,’ says Pauline. She switches off her hairdryer. ‘Don’t think she even knew I lived there.’
‘You’d think she’d have bumped into you,’ says Donna. ‘At some point. If she was there a lot?’
‘I’m a bit more private than some of them,’ says Pauline, shrugging.
Donna had plenty to report back to Chris. The good news: Pauline had lived in Juniper Court when Bethany Waites disappeared. The bad news: so had everyone else. Convenient for Pauline. Too convenient?
‘That’s you done, darling,’ says Pauline. ‘Don’t you look a picture?’
Donna looks at herself in the mirror. Just perfect. Pauline is very, very good.
59
He thought he might have to kill the dog, but, in the end, there was no need. From the moment he broke in, the dog seemed very happy to see him. Had even licked his hand while he loaded the gun. He had been fast asleep until the key turned in the lock for the first time. The Viking would love a dog, but they take a lot of looking after. Walking and so on. And sometimes things go wrong with them. What if something went wrong and he didn’t notice? The Viking would never forgive himself. He has heard that cats are easier. Maybe he will get a cat.
The first person through the door is Joyce; he recognizes her from the photograph. Joyce has a shopping bag in her hand. She is swaying slightly, and is whistling a happy tune. She stops whistling when she sees the gun, which makes the Viking feel guilty, but powerful. Mainly guilty, but he couldn’t deny the powerful bit. He supposes that is why weak people like guns so much. Not that he is weak.
The dog bounds to greet her, and Joyce ruffles his coat without taking her eyes off the man with the beard and the gun who has just appeared in her living room.
‘Bless you,’ says Joyce. ‘You must be the Viking?’
The Viking is confused. ‘The Viking?’
‘You kidnapped Elizabeth,’ says Joyce. ‘And Stephen, which was very cowardly. Put your gun down; I’m seventy-seven, what do you think I’m going to do?’
The Viking puts the gun down by his side, but keeps hold of it. It is around seven p.m., and dark outside. He has closed the curtains already. Joyce is less scared than he thought she might be. She even feeds the dog. ‘Alan’, he is called. She offers the Viking a cup of tea, but, wary of being poisoned, he declines. She sits opposite him while Alan eats, his metal bowl scraping noisily on the kitchen tiles.
‘So you’re here to kill Viktor?’ she asks. ‘He’s not in.’