Nothing but Trouble (40 page)

The Lincoln theoretically closed at eleven but it took another half-hour for the pool hall to empty. The punters came out
in twos and threes, some with that glazed look in their eyes as if they’d been tugging on a joint for the past few hours,
others more rowdy from the pints of lager they’d been knocking back. Livesey swiftly moved them on. The quicker he got rid
of them, the sooner his work was done.

It was at twenty to twelve that a familiar face emerged from the open door of the Lincoln, lit a cigarette and went over to
chat to Livesey. The man was clearly part of the security team. Valerie instantly became more alert. She sat up straight,
a thin stream of adrenalin running through her blood. ‘Well, fancy that,’ she said. ‘If it isn’t the delightful Micky Higgs.’

‘He wasn’t on the rota for Monday night.’

‘No, he must have swapped shifts with someone. Nice of him to mention it to us.’

‘Lying toerag,’ Swann muttered. ‘He said he hadn’t seen Livesey since Saturday. Now why would he tell a porkie like that?’

Valerie kept her eyes fixed on the screen. ‘Exactly.’ She frowned. ‘And how come we didn’t see him go in?’

‘He must have got there early. Maybe he had a few games of pool before he started work.’

The conversation between the two men seemed casual at first, nothing more than a friendly chat between two co-workers, but
after a couple of minutes everything changed. Livesey became more animated, his face tightening, his arms waving around. He
turned away, turned back, and glared at Higgs.

‘Not good news, then,’ Swann said.

‘Interesting.’ Valerie leaned in towards the screen. ‘Can’t make out what they’re saying, though.’

The heated conversation continued for a while, and then Dan Livesey suddenly stormed into the Lincoln. Higgs, with a smug
expression on his face, finished his cigarette, chucked the stub on the ground and followed him inside. It was almost midnight
when Livesey came out again, now wearing a long dark overcoat over his suit and looking like thunder.

‘That is not a happy man,’ Swann said.

‘A man in the mood for murder, perhaps.’

Livesey strode down the path and turned right in the direction of the Mansfield. After that, the cameras lost him and he disappeared
from view.

‘Right,’ Valerie said. ‘Let’s pull in Micky Higgs again and see what the lying bastard has to say for himself.’

It was twenty past four before DCs Lister and Franks finally managed to find Higgs and bring him into the station. As Valerie
entered the interview room, with Swann behind her, Micky blatantly looked her up and down. He was a tall, good-looking, cocky
sod who thought he could talk his way out of anything.

‘Hello, darlin’,’ Higgs said. ‘Have you missed me?’

She pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from him. He was wearing a white T-shirt that said
Fuck the Law,
which naturally endeared him to her. ‘Like a hole in the head. And it’s Inspector to you.’

Higgs grinned. ‘You didn’t need to send the plods,
Inspector.
You could have just given me a bell. I’m always happy to oblige.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

Swann turned on the recording equipment and they went through the usual procedure of announcing who was present in the room.

‘Hang on a second,’ Higgs said. ‘Shouldn’t I have a solicitor?’

‘You’re not under arrest,’ Valerie said. ‘You’re just helping us
with our enquiries. We need to clear up a little … misunderstanding from when we talked to you yesterday.’

Higgs thought about this for a moment and then gave a lazy shrug. ‘Go on, then.’

‘It’s about the last time you saw Dan Livesey,’ Valerie said. ‘Saturday night? Wasn’t that what you said?’

‘Yeah, Saturday. We were working together at the Lincoln.’

Valerie gave him a thin smile before opening a brown folder and sliding three black and white stills across the table. ‘And
yet here you are, large as life, chatting to him on Monday night.’

Higgs sat forward, frowned and stared at the pictures. He wasn’t the slightest bit fazed at being caught out in the lie. ‘Was
that Monday? Sorry, I must have got my dates mixed up. The job’s kind of boring, you know, one night’s much the same as another.’

‘Except Monday night wasn’t the same as any other, was it?’ Swann said. ‘Your mate’s ex-girlfriend, Becky Hibbert, got murdered.
That kind of thing tends to make a night more memorable.’

Higgs sat back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Like I said, I just got my dates mixed up.’ He gave Valerie a sly look.
‘It was a genuine mistake. Can’t get arrested for it, can you?’

‘No,’ she agreed, ‘but we could do you for perverting the course of justice.’

‘Only if you can prove that I did it deliberately.’

Valerie tapped her fingernails on one of the photographs. ‘We’ve had a look through the security footage, Micky, and at about
twenty to twelve you came out of the pool hall and said something to Livesey that got him mighty upset. You mind sharing it
with us?’

Higgs unclasped his arms and raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. ‘Ah, come on. Do you remember the details of every
conversation you’ve ever had?’

‘Don’t waste my time,’ Valerie said. ‘Up until that point
Livesey’s perfectly calm, and next thing he’s like a bull with a sore head. I’m presuming it was to do with Becky, because
that’s where he went next, straight to the Mansfield Estate.’

‘Which could make you an accessory to murder,’ Swann said. ‘I mean, if you knew he was going there to kill her …’

‘Hey,’ Higgs said, suddenly not quite so cocksure. ‘You’re not pinning that on me. No fuckin’ way. I didn’t know what he was
planning on doing, did I?’

Valerie was quick to take advantage. ‘So just tell us what you said to him. That’s all we want to know and then you’re free
to go. I’m sure, on this occasion at least, we can overlook your unfortunate memory lapse.’

Higgs looked from one to the other while he weighed up his options. In the end he came down on the side of self-preservation.
‘I just tipped him the wink, didn’t I?’

‘Tipped him the wink?’

‘Yeah. About what that filthy slag was up to. Someone had to let him know. She’s supposed to be taking care of his kids, right?
And if the Streets had got wind of what she was up to, they might have thought Dan was taking a share. He’d have been out
of a job – and minus his kneecaps too. The only toms they allow to operate on the Mansfield are their own.’

‘But I thought that was just a rumour,’ Valerie said. ‘I mean about her working as a prostitute.’

‘Rumour or no rumour, he needed to know about it.’

‘So why didn’t you tell us all this yesterday?’

Higgs scratched at his head and scowled. ‘You don’t grass up a mate, do you? I had no idea he was going to … How could I have
known? I’m not a fuckin’ mind-reader.’

Valerie could have pointed out that it didn’t take a mind-reader to see what mood Livesey had been in, but she held her tongue.
‘Okay,’ she said, gathering up the photographs and putting them back in the file. ‘You can go.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Unless you’ve got something else you want to tell us,’ Swann said. ‘Like where Livesey could be hiding out, for example.’

Higgs rose to his feet, shook his head and grinned. ‘He’ll be well gone, man. Not gonna hang around and wait for you lot to
pick him up, is he?’

‘And you haven’t spoken to him or seen him since the murder?’

‘Why would I?’

They accompanied Higgs back to the foyer and watched in silence as he swaggered through the doors. As soon as he was out of
earshot, Swann said, ‘That piece of shit knows more than he’s letting on.’

Valerie gave a nod. ‘You bet he does. Let’s put a tail on him and see what he does next.’

At ten past five, shortly after Harry had taken over the surveillance at Walpole Close, the electric gates slid smoothly open
and a white Ford Mustang appeared with Aimee Locke at the wheel. Quickly he jumped into the driver’s seat of the van and started
the engine. He let a couple of cars go by before pulling out. It wasn’t long before they hit the busier part of Kellston,
where the traffic, heavy and slow-moving, meant he had no problem keeping her in sight.

Even as he edged along behind the Ford, Harry was aware that it was probably a waste of time. Ray Stagg would already have
tipped Aimee off about the tail. It had been an error of judgement, he thought, going to the casino like that. He’d been hoping
that Stagg wouldn’t be around, or if he was that he wouldn’t make the connection with Aimee Locke. Harry slapped his hand
against the wheel. Damn it! He should have given the job to Warren or one of the others.

Halfway along the high street, the Mustang’s indicator flashed left and the car turned into Market Road. As there was no business
today, no stalls or traders or bustling crowds of
customers, there was plenty of room to park. As she drew up beside a meter, Harry drove on past and pulled in further along
the road.

He watched in the side mirror as she got out of the car. She was wearing a stylish cream linen suit and high heels. She took
out her purse, fed the meter and then glided back towards the high street. He took a moment to admire her long, shapely legs
before climbing out of the van and following her. She crossed the road at the zebra – cars screeching to a halt as soon as
she appeared – and went into Boots.

Wanting to keep a safe distance, Harry remained on the corner on the other side of the road. He pretended to examine the display
in an electrical goods shop while surreptitiously watching the reflection of the chemist’s in the window. She reappeared in
a couple of minutes, waited for all of three seconds for the line of traffic to stop, and crossed over again. He kept his
back turned, continuing to watch her progress in the glass. Any moment now she would pass right by him on her way to the car.

No sooner had the thought entered his head than Aimee Locke was at his side. He had no time to stride away, no time to take
evasive action. She gazed up at him with her cool grey-green eyes.

‘Hello, Mr Lind. Thinking of buying a fridge?’ Her voice was soft and husky, tinged with amusement.

There was no point in him trying to deny the obvious. He looked back at her with a wry smile. ‘I guess this is what’s known
as being caught in the act.’

‘I hope it’s not too much of a blow to your professional pride.’

‘Did Stagg tell you?’

‘Did you expect him not to?’

Harry gave a shrug. ‘I don’t expect anything of Ray Stagg.’

Aimee Locke raised her blonde brows. ‘You don’t like him. Well, he’s not to everyone’s taste.’ She continued to look at him,
her eyes gazing directly into his. ‘I think we need to talk.’

‘Is that a good idea?’

‘Was it a good idea for my husband to hire a private detective to spy on me?’

Harry didn’t think there was a right answer to that one so he didn’t bother trying.

‘I’m going to the Green,’ she said, moving away. ‘You want to walk with me or would you rather follow on behind?’

He lifted his hands in a gesture of submission before falling in beside her. ‘Your husband’s going to want his money back.’

‘My husband can easily afford whatever he paid you. I’m not going to tell him, and if you’ve got any sense you won’t either.’

Walking along the high street, he pondered on what she’d just said. What exactly did it mean? There was no doubting that Aimee
Locke intrigued him. As they made their way towards the Green, he noticed how heads turned, the men admiring in their glances,
the women appraising. Up close she was even more beautiful than from a distance. Her skin, flawless and lightly tanned, was
the colour of pale honey, and her curves could have been designed by Hollywood. It was vainglorious, he knew – especially
after he’d just blown the job he’d been paid to do – but he couldn’t help but bask in her reflected glory. Any male ego would
be boosted by being in her presence.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

‘That I’m not as good at this job as I thought I was.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said in that husky, seductive voice. ‘I would have known even without Ray tipping me off.’

Harry pulled a face. ‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’

She smiled. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. You think you’re the first private detective he’s hired? Martin always employs
someone to follow me around when he’s out of town. This time it was your turn.’

‘And why does he do that?’

‘Because I’m a scarlet woman. Because the minute he’s out of the door I can’t wait to jump into bed with any guy who gives
me a second glance.’ There was a weary acceptance in her voice now. ‘He likes to control people, Mr Lind. It’s the way he
is.’

‘So why don’t you leave him?’

Aimee gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You don’t leave men like Martin Locke.’

The Green, Kellston’s equivalent to a park, was a stretch of ground about the size of a football pitch laid to grass with
a few spindly trees and bushes. She turned on to the main path and began to walk down the centre until she reached an empty
wooden bench. She sat at one end and put her handbag down beside her. Harry sat on the other side of the bag.

‘Are you married, Mr Lind?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘And you may as well call me Harry.’

‘But there’s someone in your life? A partner? A significant other?’ She smiled again. ‘Isn’t that what they’re called these
days?’

He didn’t respond immediately. Valerie came into his head, but he wasn’t sure how significant he was to her at the moment.
He also wasn’t sure what he was doing sitting here talking to Aimee Locke.

‘Sorry,’ she said, reaching into her bag and taking out a pack of cigarettes. ‘None of my business, right?’

‘It’s complicated,’ he said. She offered him a cigarette and he shook his head. She took one for herself and lit it with a
slim gold lighter.

‘In case you’re wondering,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing going on between me and Ray. We’re just old friends. He looks out for
me.’

‘Well, it’s always good to have friends.’ He glanced around
the Green. The last of the afternoon sun was slanting across the grass, creating a dark triangle of shadow in the far left
corner. Two of the other benches were occupied, one by an elderly lady with a terrier, the other by a young woman with a toddler
in a pram. ‘Talking of which, would you mind if I asked you something, just to satisfy my own curiosity?’