Respect (Mandasue Heller) (16 page)

‘Right now.’ She took them out of her pocket and passed them over. ‘Your tenancy will officially start a week on Monday, so that’s when the first rent will become due. I’ll arrange to have the card sent out when I get back to the office. You can pay at any post office, or pop in and pay over the counter. Unless you’re in receipt of benefits, in which case you’ll need to update your claim with them. Oh, and you’ll need to let the electricity board know you’re moving in so they can start a new account. It’s still connected at the moment, but you don’t want to be landed with the previous tenant’s debts, so make sure you take a meter reading on the day you move in.’ The woman paused to draw breath, and smiled. ‘Any questions?’

‘Only about that grant you mentioned,’ Anton said, slipping the keys into his pocket.

‘Ah, yes.’ She took another form out of her folder and slid it across for him to sign. ‘Just tick everything and they’ll send vouchers. You should get them fairly quickly.’

‘Thanks.’ Anton signed the form and pushed it back to her. ‘Is that it, then?’

‘I think so.’ She closed the folder, then took a card out of her bag and handed it to him. ‘This is my direct line at the office. And my mobile number’s on the back – in case you need to contact me outside of office hours.’

Anton looked down at it and smiled. ‘Thanks,
Jodie
. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.’

She blushed when he said her name and gathered her things together. Amused, Anton showed her out and made sure that the door was double-locked before walking her up the landing.

Chantelle was coming up the stairs as Jodie started walking down. Anton stayed at the top and waved for Chantelle to come the rest of the way up.

‘Thanks,’ she said when she reached the top step.

‘No problem.’ He smiled. ‘We’re going to be neighbours,’ he said then. ‘Just signed for the flat three down from yours.’

‘That’s nice,’ Chantelle murmured. ‘Sorry, I’ve really got to go. Bye.’

‘Yeah, see you,’ Anton said, watching as she walked away quickly. When she disappeared into her flat, he shook his head and cursed himself for having blurted that out about being neighbours. He didn’t know why he’d said it, or how he’d expected her to respond, but she probably thought he was a complete dick for announcing it like that.

Annoyed with himself, he tried to push Chantelle out of his mind as he trotted down the stairs to see the housing officer off, but it wasn’t easy. He’d only ever seen her a few times in total, and he’d always thought she was pretty, but this was the first time he’d ever seen her wearing make-up and with her hair down, and she’d looked amazing. But what was the point of thinking about her like that when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested?

Chantelle rushed straight into the back room and peered through the net curtain to the car park below. The woman who had been with Anton was bent over, her backside in the air as she peered into the wing mirror of a parked car and fluffed her hair. Chantelle cast a critical eye over her clothes and shoes as she watched. She knew the woman was from the housing, because she’d seen the logo on the badge clipped to the lapel of her jacket, but she was surprised that the council allowed their female employees to dress so tartily.

When, a few seconds later, Anton strolled up to the car, Chantelle jerked back from the window and narrowed her eyes as she watched him give the woman a broad smile. Unimpressed when she gazed coquettishly up at him, Chantelle shook her head in disgust. Whatever he was saying to her, the stupid bitch was obviously falling for it hook, line and sinker. Well, more fool her if she couldn’t spot a player. Serve her right if she got pregnant, or had her heart broken.

When the woman had driven away at last, and Anton had walked off towards the shops, Chantelle went to her room and got changed. Then, taking her latest earnings out of her bag, she went into the kitchen and reached to the back of the cupboard beneath the sink for the old coffee jar in which she’d been stashing her money. She had thought it would be safer here than in her own room because it was the last place Leon would ever dream of looking, seeing as this was where the cleaning stuff was kept. Not that she thought he would deliberately steal from her, but it would be a huge temptation if he were to come across it by accident and she didn’t want to take the risk.

She smiled as she slotted the folded notes in with the rest. She’d done six jobs to date, and hadn’t spent a single penny other than what she needed each week for the meter and food. She was grateful that Bill was still paying her cash in hand, but she knew it wouldn’t last for ever. The day Bill decided to make their arrangement formal would be the day when Chantelle would have to walk away – and she was dreading it.

She had never in her wildest dreams imagined that she would get such a kick out of spying on people, but she absolutely loved it. She’d always known that men were devious and deceitful, but it still shocked her how easily and unconcernedly they strayed. That was probably why Bill was single, she supposed. Her boss must have long ago reached the same conclusion: that men were born liars who couldn’t be trusted as far as you could throw them.

This morning’s job had been the first that Chantelle had undertaken during daylight hours. It seemed that the majority of cheats preferred to operate at night, when they could ply their playthings with alcohol and get up to their shenanigans under cover of darkness; but today’s suspect had met his lady friend in a coffee shop, both apparently on lunch breaks from their respective jobs. The broad daylight and the fact that they had been surrounded by shoppers hadn’t put them off, and Chantelle had caught some fairly full-on groping going on under the table. She pitied the man’s poor wife when she saw the footage but, as Bill always said, it was better for their clients to know the truth than to suffer the uncertainty.

Unusually, because her jobs had so far all been a few days apart, Chantelle had another one lined up for this evening. This client, however, had no idea where her husband might be going, so instead of being
in situ
at a predetermined venue Chantelle and Bill were to start their surveillance outside the suspect’s house.

Chantelle had a few hours before she had to start thinking about getting ready and she had planned to go shopping. But she didn’t fancy bumping into Anton again, so she decided to stay in and do some cleaning instead. Although she wouldn’t be going anywhere near Leon’s room, because he’d gone mad the last time he caught her in there. But that was fine by her. He reckoned he was growing up, so he could clean up after himself from now on.

12

Bill turned onto the suspect’s road at eight p.m. and parked in a secluded inlet. When she switched off the lights, plunging them into darkness, Chantelle gazed out at the shadowy houses across the way. They were all detached and fronted by neat hedges, with high wrought-iron gates to keep casual callers at bay. She’d only ever seen houses as grand as these on TV, owned by really rich people and maintained by an army of cleaners and gardeners. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to live in such a massive house, and the area was unusually quiet, too; no teenagers hanging around on the corners, no traffic, doors slamming, or people shouting, arguing or fighting. It was a world away from the life she knew, and she couldn’t help but envy the people who could afford to live like this. But girls like her didn’t fit into places like this, so there was no point thinking about it.

‘Something wrong?’ Bill asked when she heard Chantelle sigh for the third time in as many minutes.

‘No.’ Chantelle smiled. ‘Just wondering what it must be like to live in such a big house.’

‘Lonely,’ said Bill, quickly adding, ‘I should imagine.’

Chantelle raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. She’d known Bill for a few weeks now and they got along well enough. But the woman never spoke about anything apart from the business, so it was hard to imagine her having a life outside of her office and this car.

She was different from anybody Chantelle had ever met before. She dressed scruffily, and her car was old – and smelly, courtesy of Mitzy’s continuous farting. Yet her accent was posh, and she used words that Chantelle, who had always been near the top of her English classes, didn’t always understand. For all Chantelle knew, she was from a really rich family and had grown up in a house like those they were sitting outside. But she doubted that she would ever find out, because her boss wasn’t the kind to talk about personal stuff.

They had been sitting there for over an hour and the windows were steamy by the time Bill saw movement. ‘He’s off,’ she said. ‘Quick, get down.’

Chantelle glanced out of the window in time to see a flashy BMW emerge from a driveway up ahead. As it turned onto the road and began to head towards them, she slid down in her seat and held her breath until it had passed.

Bill stared at the tail lights in the rear-view mirror. As soon as they disappeared around the corner, she sat up and started her car, causing Chantelle to hold onto the sides of her seat as Bill quickly turned around and set off after the BMW.

The suspect’s car was four vehicles ahead of them when they hit the main road. ‘Camera ready?’ Bill asked, keeping the tail lights in her sights.

‘Yeah, just need to press record,’ Chantelle told her.

Bill smiled to herself. The girl was a quick learner who rarely needed telling twice, and she was far more polite and respectful than most girls of her age who were all too often consumed by a staggering sense of self-importance and entitlement. The best thing about Chantelle was that she had a genuine interest in the work and had quickly picked up a knack for judging when something was about to happen, saving Bill from having to wade through swathes of film before reaching the money shot. All in all, she was proving to be a good addition to the business.

Unaware of Bill’s silent appraisal, Chantelle reached into the glove compartment and took out the photograph that the client had emailed to Bill earlier in the day. The suspect was handsome, with short, dark, stylishly cut hair and piercing blue eyes. The picture looked as if it had been taken at a party, and Chantelle guessed from the expression in his eyes that he was intimately connected to whoever had been on the other side of the camera. Maybe his wife in happier times – before the rot had set in and she’d decided to have him followed. He looked fairly young, but he obviously had money to be living in such an expensive neighbourhood, and his car was really classy, too.

As she felt the envy stirring again, Chantelle put the picture away and sat back in her seat.

The man drove into the city centre and parked up on a backstreet off Deansgate, not far from the wine bar where Chantelle had done her first job. Telling Chantelle to duck down, Bill drove past and pulled over a couple of hundred yards further down. She watched in the rear-view mirror as the man sauntered down the road, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the jacket that was slung casually over his shoulder. When he went into the doorway of a nightclub on the corner, she said, ‘Game on.’

Chantelle took the money that Bill was holding out to her and climbed out of the car. No longer afraid of being challenged about her age, she paused to smooth her skirt, then strolled confidently down the road and into the club.

She gazed around as she entered, and quickly located the suspect being greeted with handshakes and slaps on the back from two men at the far end of the bar. She ordered a Coke and carried it over to a table in a dimly lit corner. Then, taking the camera-phone out of her bag, she surreptitiously kept track of the suspect and his friends as they settled at a table in the opposite corner.

It was more than an hour before anything happened, by which time the club had started to fill up. With her view now partially obscured by people on the dance floor, Chantelle moved to an empty stool at the end of the bar and started the camera rolling when she saw a woman approach the men’s table and sit down.

The woman was very beautiful, with long dark hair and a great figure, and Chantelle could clearly see by the way she was pouting and batting her lashes that she was flirting with the suspect. She kept leaning in close to speak into his ear, and he obviously found whatever she was saying amusing because he was doing a lot of smiling and nodding. But just as Chantelle thought that something incriminating was about to happen, the suspect received a call on his mobile phone and excused himself from the table. And when he went back a couple of minutes later, he picked up his jacket, shook hands with his friends and kissed the woman on both cheeks before strolling out of the club.

Chantelle waited a few minutes to see if the woman would follow him, then called it a night.

Bill unlocked the car door and gave Chantelle a questioning look as she climbed in. Chantelle shook her head and handed the videophone to her.

‘He met up with some men when he first went in, and they were just drinking and talking for the first hour. A woman arrived after that and it looked like there might be something going on, but then he got a phone call and left.’

‘So he didn’t do anything?’ Bill slotted the USB lead into her laptop.

‘Nothing.’ Chantelle shook her head. ‘The woman was flirting and I thought he might be responding, but I’m not sure now. See what you think.’

Bill loaded the film and watched it intently, looking for anything that Chantelle might have missed. There were plenty of telltale signs that even the most cautious of people couldn’t avoid giving off: a look, a subconscious positioning of the body, or a random gesture that betrayed an intimacy they were trying to hide. But, as Chantelle had said, there seemed to be nothing untoward going on.

‘Ah, well, the client should be relieved,’ Bill said as she disconnected the lead and closed the laptop down. ‘But I see what you mean about the flirting. She couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d stripped naked and waggled her tilly mint right under his nose.’

‘
What?
’ Chantelle laughed and stared at her.

‘Well, it’s true.’ Bill chuckled and reached through the gap between their seats to put the laptop on the back seat. ‘Men are foolish creatures but we’d be out of a job if they weren’t so easily led astray, so I shan’t complain. Anyway, another job well done – so let’s get you home, shall we?’