‘Amateur,’ says Ron. ‘What are we doing here though?’
‘I need a favour,’ says Chris. ‘I need someone to pretend that they heard a gunshot, and then rang me. To explain why I’m here. You can say you were doing the wine tour and popped out for a breath of fresh air?’
‘Lying to the police,’ says Ron. ‘Yeah, Elizabeth would have been good at that.’
‘We’ll be good at it too,’ says Joyce. ‘We don’t always need Elizabeth.’
‘Where is she, by the way?’ Patrice asks.
‘Usually best not to ask,’ says Ron.
‘So is someone on their way?’ Joyce asks.
‘Now that you’re safely here, I’m going to ring the SIO from the NCA,’ says Chris. ‘Jill Regan. I’ll tell her I got a call from a distressed member of the public and I broke in and found the body.’
‘How long might they be?’ asks Joyce. ‘Do you think?’
‘They’re all in Fairhaven,’ says Chris. ‘Twenty-five minutes?’
Joyce looks at her watch, then looks at the filing cabinets. ‘That will do us just fine. Let’s get started on these files.’
‘We can’t touch those files now,’ says Chris.
Joyce rolls her eyes and pulls on her gloves. ‘What would Elizabeth do?’
‘If I let you look at the files, you’ll play along with the plan?’ asks Chris.
‘You’re not going to let us do anything, Chris,’ says Joyce. ‘You’re not really in a position to be handing out permission.’
‘You’re even speaking like Elizabeth now,’ says Patrice.
‘Palpable nonsense, dear,’ says Joyce, and they giggle together.
‘We love a plan,’ says Ron. ‘Half an hour ago I had my feet up, watching the curling, and now look at me. Warehouse, corpse, the lot.’
‘Make sure you sound breathless when you call your SIO, Chris,’ says Joyce. ‘Remember, you’ve just found a corpse.’
‘Rather than finding it after breaking in and ringing two pensioners to come and bail you out,’ adds Ron.
Chris steps out of the office and onto the metal stairs to call Jill Regan. Joyce tests the top drawer of the nearest filing cabinet. It won’t budge.
‘Ron, pop on a pair of gloves and see if you can find any keys.’
‘Find them where?’ asks Ron.
‘In his pockets,’ says Joyce, pointing to the corpse of Dom Holt. ‘Honestly, Ron, use your head.’
Ron reluctantly pulls a pair of driving gloves from his jacket.
Joyce goes along each of the filing cabinets in turn, trying the drawers. She looks over to see Ron gingerly trying to get into Dominic Holt’s pockets.
‘You know, I could do that?’ says Patrice. ‘If it’s making you uncomfortable?’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ says Joyce. ‘He enjoys it. He’ll be showing off to Ibrahim the second we get home.’
Ron gives a triumphant ‘Got the buggers!’ and presents a large ring of keys to Joyce. He then says a quiet ‘Sorry, mate’ to Dominic Holt for disturbing him.
Joyce starts trying a row of small, skinny keys as Chris comes back in through the door.
‘Unit on their way,’ says Chris.
A drawer pops open, then another, then another. Joyce starts pulling files from the cabinets. She places them on the desk, being careful to avoid the bloodstains, and issues her orders.
‘Patrice, do you have a phone?’
‘Believe it or not, I do,’ says Patrice.
‘I don’t wish to hurry you, but could you photograph as many pages as you can? Chris, take Ron outside. Ron, you need to look paler, more shocked, like a defenceless old man.’
‘I’m not sure I like the new you,’ says Ron. ‘Can we have Joyce back?’
Joyce works quickly. It feels like being a nurse again, on one of those nights when you don’t stop, but everything still has to be perfect. Once Patrice has photographed the contents of each file, Joyce replaces it in the exact same spot, in the exact same order, as it was found. The two women work in tandem, under the dead stare of Dom Holt.
The last cabinet emptied and refilled, Joyce slips the keys back into Dom Holt’s pocket, whispering, ‘Thank you,’ and motions for Patrice to follow her out.
Before descending the metal stairs, Joyce has a long think about what else Elizabeth might do. Is there anything she has forgotten? Something that will make Elizabeth roll her eyes at her on their return? A flash of inspiration hits her, and she pulls Patrice back in and asks her to take photos of the corpse from every angle. Good idea.
38
Garth is walking around Joyce’s flat, followed dutifully by Alan. You can find out where anyone lives if you know where to look. And Garth knows where to look.
From time to time Alan barks at his new friend and Garth replies, ‘You got that right,’ or ‘I don’t disagree with you there, buddy.’
He had hoped that Joyce might be in, but, in her absence, it will do no harm to have a look around. He smells baking in the air. Smells a lot like his very own Battenberg but without the cinnamon.
She keeps it nice – that doesn’t surprise Garth a jot. Joyce is a neat lady. Garth likes the way she dresses, likes the way she speaks and, looking around, he likes the way she lives. Garth’s own grandmother, his favourite grandmother, ran an art-theft ring in Toronto. That was what had got Garth interested in the business in the first place. She stole art and she loved art, and passed both of these advantages on to Garth. His other grandmother read the weather on TV in Manitoba.
There are still Christmas decorations up. That’s bad luck, Joyce. Garth asks Alan if Joyce knew this was bad luck. Alan barks. Joyce knows: she just likes them too much.
Garth is tempted to take them down, protect Joyce from herself, but he doesn’t want her to know he’s been here. Doesn’t want to scare her, or intrude on her privacy. Joyce has a lot of Christmas cards, a lot of friends, no surprise there. Garth wishes he had more friends, but he’s never found the knack. Always moved around too much until he met Samantha.
Garth opens the fridge. Almond milk. Joyce moves with the times.
He and Samantha have just been to visit a woman named Connie Johnson. She sells cocaine, and they knew her by reputation. They had a proposition for her. Seemed like there was some kind of opportunity in the heroin business, and they wondered if she’d like to team up? Her connections, their money, might be worth everyone’s while.
Connie had said she would think about it, but Garth didn’t buy that. He figures they’ll just have to do it themselves – how hard can it be?
Garth has turned his hand to all sorts of things in his life. Went to art college, once stole a herd of bison, played a little bass guitar. He also committed Canada’s largest ever bank robbery. Though not by himself – his cousin Paul helped. And his grandmother laundered a lot of the money.
Garth had worked in corporate espionage for a while too, and had broken into all sorts of places without anyone knowing. Because he was so big, he had grown up careful. He’s big as a bear but quiet as a mouse. If Garth disturbs something, then Garth puts it back.
What is he looking for in Joyce’s flat? No idea. What would he have asked Joyce about if she’d been here? No idea either. But if anything has kept Garth alive over the years, it’s caution, and he has to make sure that Joyce isn’t trying to do a number on them. No one ever died from doing too much research.
He’d been to take a look at Elizabeth’s flat, but she had a hairdresser there, and she also had an alarm system he’s never seen outside of a maximum-security prison.
There’s nothing here, Garth is sure of it. He is about to leave when he hears Joyce’s friend Ibrahim knock on the door, and then start a conversation with Alan through the letter-box. Garth quietly makes himself a cup of tea while he waits for the conversation to finish. It takes quite some time.