Respect (Mandasue Heller) (17 page)

13

Yvette Knight kissed her husband goodbye the next morning and waved him off from the doorstep. As soon as the electric gate slid shut behind his car, she rushed into the kitchen and switched her laptop on. Then, perching on a stool, she opened the private investigator’s page and typed in the pin code she’d received by text when Rob had been in the shower earlier.

She’d been itching to see what the PI had got for her, and when a series of pictures appeared on the screen now she tucked her hair behind her ear and clicked on the first image to enlarge it. It showed Rob sitting in a club with two men and a woman, and Yvette’s jaw clenched in anger when she saw the way the bitch was gazing adoringly up at him. Yvette was a natural blonde, but that was the only genuine thing about her: everything else was fake, from her nails to her lashes to her boobs – just the way Rob claimed to like his women. But this tart had long, thick, glossy black hair, naturally tanned skin and, Yvette suspected, naturally large breasts.

Already seething with jealousy, Yvette scrolled through the rest of the pictures. She had been asleep when Rob got home last night, and when she’d asked him this morning where he’d been, he’d said he’d been in a late-night meeting at work. So what the hell had he been doing at a nightclub, with
Vampira
drooling all over him?

The sound of the front door opening made Yvette almost jump out of her skin. Hands shaking, she quickly closed the page she was viewing and opened one from the favourites tab just as Rob strolled in.

‘Forgot my wallet,’ he said, looking around. ‘Thought you said you were getting a bath?’

‘I am in a minute.’ Yvette smiled. ‘Just came to make myself a coffee and got distracted by Jimmy Choo.’

Rob spotted his wallet on the ledge behind the laptop and reached over her shoulder to get it, glancing at the screen as he did so. ‘Those are nice.’ He pointed at a pair of strappy stilettos. ‘Why don’t you order them?’

‘Maybe.’ Yvette gritted her teeth as she wondered if those particular shoes had caught his eye because his
tart
had been wearing something similar last night.

‘Go on – treat yourself,’ Rob said magnanimously, slipping his wallet into his pocket. ‘Not sure when I’ll be back tonight. Adam just called to say he’s scheduled me in for an extra meeting this afternoon, and I’ve got a feeling it might run over.’

‘Again?’ Yvette struggled to keep the accusation from her eyes as she peered up at him.

‘Can’t be helped.’ Rob shrugged. ‘Business is business. Anyway, got to go. See you later.’

Yvette tilted her head back when he kissed her on the forehead and smiled as he went on his way. But the smile disappeared as soon as he was out of the door, and she listened for the sound of his car tyres crunching gravel before switching screens back to the private investigator’s pictures.

One by one she scrutinised them, the anger burning that bit more brightly with each new detail she picked out. When she could stand no more, she slammed the laptop lid shut and lit a cigarette. She took a deep drag and gazed around the room as she exhaled her smoke through gritted teeth. This house was her pride and joy. She had spent months choosing the furnishings and decor which had turned it from a house into a home, and she made sure the cleaners never missed a speck of dust so it always looked immaculate. Rob might be the emperor of all he surveyed at work, but Yvette was the undisputed queen of this castle, and no tarty little bitch was going to wheedle her way into Rob’s life and take her crown away from her. Not without a bloody big fight, anyway.

She took another drag on her cigarette and snatched her mobile phone off the ledge.

‘It’s Mrs Knight,’ she said when her call was answered. ‘I’ve seen the pictures, but it’s not enough. I want you to try again. Only this time …’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Bill said when Yvette Knight had outlined what she wanted. ‘No, it’s no problem; leave it with me and I’ll get back to you.’

Bill put the phone down when the call was finished and gazed thoughtfully out over her messy office. She’d just been asked to provide a service she had never before offered, mainly because she had worked alone until recently and was herself completely unsuitable for the role. But now that she had Chantelle it was entirely feasible – as long as the girl felt comfortable with the idea. It would be a stretch as Chantelle had so far had no contact with the suspects she’d been tasked to follow. Looks-wise, she was perfect, but Bill wasn’t so sure about the personality side of things. As sweet as she was, and as comfortable as she now seemed to feel in Bill’s presence, Chantelle had an innate shyness which might prohibit her from putting herself out there in the way this job would require. But Bill supposed she could only ask.

She picked up the phone again and rang Chantelle’s number.

‘Hello, dear, are you free to talk? I have a proposition for you.’

Chantelle bit her lip when Bill had finished the call. What the hell had she let herself in for? She had just agreed to follow last night’s suspect again, but this time she wouldn’t just be filming him from afar – she would be trying to orchestrate a meeting. A honey trap, Bill had called it, the sweet term making it sound like an exotic, exciting adventure. But Chantelle had never even dated a boy, or had a conversation with one that could lead him to think she was interested. And, on the very rare occasions when a boy had approached her, she had immediately clammed up – as she had with Anton Davis, who had quickly given up after being stonewalled.

But if the thought of flirting with a boy was alien to her, the idea of doing it with a man filled her with absolute dread. And, judging by his behaviour in the club last night, the suspect, whose name Bill had just told her was Rob Knight, was a highly confident man at that. He had to be extremely smart to have made so much money by the age of 25, and he obviously had no trouble attracting sexy women. So how on earth an inexperienced girl like her was supposed to get him to take her seriously, Chantelle did not know.

Regretting having agreed to give it a go, Chantelle brought Bill’s number up on her phone and hovered her thumb over the call button. She wanted to tell her that she’d changed her mind, but she guessed that Bill would probably have phoned the client back by now to confirm the booking and cancelling wouldn’t be very good for business.

‘What’s up with you?’ Leon walked into the kitchen just then and gave her a funny look

‘Nothing.’ Chantelle smiled and pushed her phone into her pocket. ‘Just trying to decide what to make for dinner tonight. What do you fancy?’

‘Chippy,’ Leon said, pouring himself a glass of milk. ‘Happy birthday, by the way.’

Chantelle’s eyes immediately welled up. She genuinely hadn’t expected him to remember, and it meant the world to her that he had. ‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

‘No need to get all
girly
about it,’ Leon scoffed, his face creasing with disgust. ‘I take it you’re working tonight?’

‘How did you know?’

‘Heard you on the phone, and you don’t talk to no one else these days so I figured it had to be your boss.’

Chantelle chuckled softly. ‘Not as stupid as you look, are you?’

Leon rolled his eyes and carried his milk back up the hall and into his bedroom. Chantelle sighed when he closed his door. That was probably the last she would see of him until dinner time, but at least he’d remembered her birthday – which made him the only one on the planet whose mind she had crossed today.

Determined not to start feeling sorry for herself, she pulled on her jacket and headed out. If Leon wanted a chippy dinner he could have it, but she still needed to pick up a few bits and pieces from the shop.

Anton had just arrived at his new flat when Chantelle stepped out onto the landing. He nodded at her as he slotted his key into the lock. ‘Morning.’

‘Morning,’ she replied, glancing at the mop and bucket that were sitting beside his door, alongside a dustpan and brush, a small bin, and several bottles of bleach, washing-up liquid and air fresheners. ‘Moving in?’

Amazed that she had initiated a conversation, Anton couldn’t help but smile as he said, ‘Need to do some more cleaning first. Still smells a bit, and I won’t be able to forget she died in there till I’ve got rid of it. It’s freaking me out a bit, to be honest.’

‘I can imagine.’ Chantelle pulled her own door shut.

‘Best get on,’ Anton said now, pushing his door open and reaching for the mop and bucket. ‘See you.’

Chantelle said, ‘Bye’ and watched as he went inside. She was surprised he was still talking to her, given how snotty and offhand she’d been with him, and she thought he was actually quite nice. But then, with his past record with girls, he must have perfected the art of being charming by now, so she was probably wrong.

‘Hey, birthday girl, where d’you think you’re going?’

Chantelle turned on her heel when she heard Immy’s voice, and smiled when she saw her friend rushing towards her.

‘Sorry it’s only a card,’ Immy apologised, thrusting an envelope into her hand before hugging her. ‘I was going to get you these gorgeous earrings I saw on the market, but I’m skintaroony, so you’ll have to wait.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Chantelle said softly, her eyes welling up again. ‘This is more than enough.’ She opened the card and felt her chin wobble when she read the message. ‘Thanks. That means a lot.’

‘So what did you get off your mum?’ Immy asked. ‘Pressies or money?’

‘Money,’ Chantelle lied, shoving the card into her pocket.

‘And now you’re off to spend it?’ Immy gave her a knowing look.

‘You know me too well.’ Chantelle smiled. ‘Want to come?’

‘Wish I could,’ Immy said regretfully, ‘but my dad and the Barbie doll are taking me and the brat brother to Blackpool. I’m only going so I can wind her up,’ she added, grinning slyly. ‘She’s so possessive, it’s unbelievable. You should see the face on her when I go near my dad; it’s like she thinks I’m trying to get off with him, or something. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so tragic.’

‘Weird.’ Chantelle shook her head.

‘Hey, why don’t you come?’ Immy suggested. ‘I’m sure my dad won’t mind. And the Barbie will have an absolute
fit
when she cops a look at
you
.’

‘I can’t,’ Chantelle said. ‘Said I’d take Leon bowling.’

‘Ah, that’s nice.’ Immy smiled. ‘Well, have a great time, babe. I’ll give you a ring when I get back, tell you how it went.’

‘Have fun.’ Chantelle hugged her goodbye. ‘And thanks again for the card.’

When Immy had gone back down the stairs she’d come up from, Chantelle set off for the stairs at the other end of the block. Anton came back out onto the landing to collect the rest of his things as she passed and, smiling, said, ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks,’ she murmured, blushing. He had already gone inside when Immy arrived, but his door must have still been open for him to have heard that it was her birthday.

A small smile played on Chantelle’s lips as she walked on. She’d started the day on a low, convinced that nobody cared enough to remember her birthday; but now three people had wished her a happy one, so maybe the day wasn’t going to turn out too bad after all.

Bill had no idea it was Chantelle’s birthday when she picked her up in their usual spot that evening, but she noticed that there was something different about her. It was subtle, nothing that she could absolutely put her finger on; Chantelle just seemed a little more confident than usual. She rarely spoke about her life, and never mentioned her family apart from to say they were okay if Bill asked. And she had certainly given Bill no indication that she had a boyfriend, which was surprising considering how sweet-natured and beautiful she was. But she seemed quite happy with her lot, so Bill had never pried – and wasn’t about to start now.

They had to wait for over an hour before Rob Knight left his house. When he headed again into the city centre and parked up on the same backstreet, Bill guessed that he was going to the same club and parked on a neighbouring street.

‘Nervous?’ she asked as Chantelle unclipped her seat belt.

‘A bit,’ Chantelle admitted. ‘But I’m trying not to think about it.’

‘Probably for the best,’ Bill agreed, handing over the money for Chantelle’s drinks. ‘Just remember to keep it casual if he approaches you. Let him do most of the talking and, if you in any way feel out of your depth, pull the plug and get out of there. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ Chantelle nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Wish me luck.’

As on the previous night, the club was only half full, so there were still plenty of vacant seats. But rather than try and fade into the background as she usually did, Chantelle perched on a tall stool at the bar and looked around.

She quickly spotted the suspect at the far end of the bar, talking to the same men he’d been with the night before. After ordering a Coke, she twisted the stool around and rested her elbow on the counter before casually crossing her legs. Instantly self-conscious when several men cast admiring looks in her direction, she raised her chin and forced herself to maintain the cool façade. She had applied much more make-up than usual tonight, and her loose hair looked glossy thanks to two hours of conditioning and curling. She’d been quite pleased with the results, and it was obviously having the desired effect. But she knew that the interest she was attracting was based purely on looks, so it meant nothing.

When the suspect and his friends moved to a table, Chantelle stayed put. There was no easy way of getting near to him without actually walking right up to him, but she absolutely wasn’t going to do that. He had to come to her, or it would prove nothing.

An hour dragged by and Chantelle had almost finished her second drink, but Rob Knight still hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction. Concerned that the woman from the previous night might turn up and ruin her chances if she didn’t do something soon, she decided to change seats in the hope of attracting his attention. But just as she gathered up her bag and her drink and was about to step down off the stool, the man himself appeared at her side, and her Coke sloshed over the rim of her glass when he knocked her hand with his arm.