The Detective's Secret (39 page)

‘Stanley!’

In the failing light of the impending storm, Stella saw the man was wearing a black coat. It was Jack. Jackie must have told him where she was.

Stanley halted and crouched low on the grass. Stella felt a twinge of guilt that he made his distrust of Jack obvious. She blew her whistle again and the recall training paid off; abandoning the stick, Stanley belted back to her. She rewarded him with a morsel of chicken and, straightening, splayed out an arm in semaphore greeting to Jack. There was no one there.

It was dangerous to shelter under the trees in a storm; surely Jack knew that. Stella set off at a pace across the grass towards where he had been. The wind was back in force and the sky threatened rain. Stanley trotted in front, stopping to make sure she was behind him.

Far off she heard the rumble of thunder and looked around. She was alone on the common.

She reached the trees and it was as if dusk had fallen. The mesh of branches above cut out what little light there was.

‘Jack?’ She felt awkward calling out his name. It might be like the other night, when he hadn’t got together the courage to admit he was nervous of the tower. Her boots loudly crunched over a bed of beech-nut shells.

She took out her phone to see if he had texted. Nothing. She was about to put it away when she saw a symbol at the top of her screen. She peered at it. It was a pair of staring eyes.

Stalker Boy.
The logo of Rick Frost’s app. William Frost again.

‘Stell-ah!’

Confused by the wind, Stella had no idea where the voice came from. She retreated deeper into the trees. She had to find Jack.

Over the two years she had known him, Stella had learnt to put up with Jack’s odd behaviour. His sudden departures out of the back door, a propensity to sing nursery rhymes and recite poetry, and above all his night-time searches for his ‘True Hosts’, those with a mind like his own, intent on eliminating those who got in their way. She had made him promise to stop walking the streets at night. Yet Jackie advised it was best not to try to change people, to let them be.

‘Stella!’

Stella crept around a tree trunk and looked out across the common to Braybrook Street. There was someone by her van. She took a few steps over the grass. It was William Frost.

‘You’ve been stalking me!’ she exploded at him. Walking past him, she fired her key at the van.

‘I wouldn’t go as far as calling it that, though I confess my brother’s app got me here.’ As if the app had transported him to her against his will. It explained the watching eyes on her screen. Stella felt her heart rate slow down.

Tempted to tell him where to go, she thought of Jack’s report and said, ‘We need to talk.’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

She strapped Stanley into his seat, thinking fleetingly that after she had given him back there would be no use for the seat; she would get it removed. She climbed in the driver’s side.

‘I’ve got questions.’ This wasn’t how Terry did it: no tape machine, no plain-walled room and no second interviewer. No Jack. In fact she did have a tape recorder. ‘Are you OK if I record this?’ She showed him her phone.

‘Am I under caution, Detective Darnell?’

She fitted the phone into the cradle on the dashboard and, preventing herself from saying ‘For the benefit of the tape’, flipped to her notes in her Filofax.

‘The police interviewed you in the eighties about a lost black glove. Where did you lose it?’

‘I didn’t lose it.’

‘You told the police you had.’

‘My brother stole both my gloves; he lost them. A glove was found on some man who died in that tower by the river. I told the police that I’d lost my gloves in the park. Christ knows why I covered for him, but Rick was scared stiff of heights, he couldn’t climb a stepladder, certainly not a tower, so it was a harmless fib.’

Stella fumbled in her pocket. ‘Is this your glove?’ She thrust it at him, hoping Jack’s hunch was right.

William took it off her and turned back the cuff. ‘There’s a “W” inside, the ‘F’ has worn away. My mum and her labels! But where did you get this?’

‘Do you know Nicola Barwick?’ She heard Terry in her head:
You ask the questions. Don’t give away what you know.

‘She was a friend of my brother’s. Did she have this glove? Nicky wouldn’t have killed him, if that’s your theory. She was a kind girl.’

‘Why “was”?’

‘
Is
then. What is this, am I under the spotlight now?’

‘Do you know where Nicola is now?’
Don’t be led by the interviewee.

‘Not at this moment.’

‘What were you arguing about with Lulu – with Tallulah Frost – in the street after your brother’s inquest?’
Surprise them with your questions, give them no chance to anticipate or rehearse.

Stella clicked her ballpoint on and off to agitate him, then remembered the microphone and stopped.

‘I told her I thought that Rick had been murdered. She refused to believe me.’

Safety first:
a
void being trapped with a person you suspect of murder. Don’t ask questions likely to inflame.
The houses in Braybrook Street were dark; if she shouted for help, no one would hear.

‘Why didn’t you tell us you were having an affair with Tallulah?’
Avoid open questions and tackling a point head on.

‘Because I’m not. Any more,’ William said after too long a pause.

‘You didn’t think it pertinent to tell us this?’
Know when to be silent.

He loosened his shirt collar, although the top two buttons were undone. ‘It’s over.’

‘Why is it over?’

‘Tallulah – or Lulu as she’d restyled herself – promised she’d leave my brother, but kept putting it off. When Rick was killed, I ended it, the whole thing had got out of hand. I couldn’t live with the guilt. I had betrayed my brother. I was having a relationship with his wife and when he asked for help, I wasn’t right there. I missed his call. But listen, I didn’t want this to divert you. I didn’t kill my brother and nor did Lulu, or at least—’

‘You hinted we should talk to her. Was that out of revenge? Did you plan to frame her?’

‘No! It was me that ended it, so it would be stupid to take revenge on her.’

Stella momentarily lost the thread of her argument. Was this what it was like for Terry?
Stain by stain
.

‘You said you ended because she wouldn’t leave. Presumably if she had left her husband, then you’d still be with her.’

‘I don’t know. I thought I knew her, but I’m not so sure.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I have a feeling that someone’s following me.’

‘Like your feeling that your brother was murdered?’

‘If you like, yes.’

‘Why do you think it’s Lulu?’

‘She has the most to gain from Rick not being around. Simple.’ He gave a shrug.

‘Are you sure it was her?’ Stella remembered Lulu arriving back, excitedly telling her and Dale that she had seen her husband in the street with his mistress. Had the ‘husband’ been William, not Rick? William had left her.

‘With this app I can check where someone is. It was definitely her following me.’

‘You were with Nicola Barwick.’ Stella was gratified by his look of surprise. Like a boxer she must concentrate on one area and then suddenly go for another part of the body – mix it up.

‘That’s why I was coming to see you. I think that whoever was threatening my brother is after me.’

Rain pattered on the roof of the van. Black clouds made a false dusk that merged with the trees where Jack had stood. Stella hoped he wasn’t still out there.

‘Where were you the night your brother died?’
Stick to the basics.

‘I already told the police, I was at home alone, working, so yes, no alibi, it could have been me.’

He turned sideways in his seat to look at her as he had done the night she had taken him to Gunnersbury station. Then she had supposed he was one of Jackie’s Mr Rights. How simple that problem seemed now.

‘But it wasn’t me.’ He leant forward and touched her arm. ‘Stella, you have to believe me.’

Stella’s phone buzzed with a text. Excusing herself, she turned off the recorder.

Can’t see you tonight. Driving.
Jack had found his phone.

If Jack was out there, he could see her with William. She dialled his number.

‘This is Jack, who are you? Tell me after the beep.’
Her patience evaporated.

‘Could I use your brother’s app?’

‘I should have told you sooner.’

‘Your app?’

‘Tallulah or Lulu’s at home, if that’s who you want, I checked.’

‘It isn’t.

Stella submitted to William’s instructions – she couldn’t say she had used the app before. When she put in Jack’s number, up came the
Seek and destroy
icon. The cross hairs zeroed and found the target. Her heart thumped. Jack was on Du Cane Road, passing Wormwood Scrubs prison; if she went now she might catch up with him.

‘I have to go.’

‘Stella, I—’

‘Now!’

She leant over and pushed open the door for William to get out. ‘I’ll call you,’ she shouted back to him as she drove down Braybrook Street.

Monday, 28 October 2013

‘Where’s Jackie?’ Stella burst into the office.

‘Gone home. She got a text from Jack. She’s put me in charge!’ Beverly was Jackie’s assistant. She was in her mid twenties, dressed immaculately in a short black dress with precise make-up, a precision that didn’t extend to her work. Kneeling amidst piles of papers on the floor, Beverly tackled the filing as if searching for something. ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea or coffee?’ Beverly made perfect tea.

‘No thanks.’ Stella had the urge to say ‘yes’, to sit at her desk and plan next week’s rota, scrutinize application forms, fix visits with prospective clients and prepare quotes. She could not. She had a case to solve.

‘What did Jack want?’

‘He told Jackie he was passing her house and noticed a window open. She’s gone home to close it. When she got there, she found it was closed! She thinks Jack got the wrong house.’

‘When was this?

‘An hour ago. She asked me to lock up. I’ve done it before.’

Stella couldn’t absorb the detail. By the time she had got to Du Cane Road, there was no sign of Jack. The wind was blowing and it had been raining hard and in his dark coat he was as good as invisible. How had he got to Corney Road so quickly?

‘I was going to drop Stanley off with Jackie, but, um—’

‘She said to say I can look after him,’ Beverly said.

‘Are you any good with dogs?’ Stella only trusted Jackie with Stanley.

‘My mum breeds poodles, and I help out.’

‘OK then.’

‘We’re old friends. Actually, I was about to say, I think he needs a drink.’

When she looked back through the wired glass in the office door, Beverly was putting a document into a drawer in one of the filing cabinets. Stanley was snoozing in his bed by her desk. He was more at home in the office than she was.

‘You didn’t tell me about William Frost?’ Stella said as soon as Lulu Carr opened her front door.

‘Sorry, is that your business?’ Lulu eyed Stella coldly, no longer the scatty woman who Stella had assured Jack wasn’t capable of murder.

Establish who has the most to gain by a person’s death: usually the spouse, partner or close relative. ‘Gain’ doesn’t have to be financial.

‘I’m investigating your husband’s death, so yes, it is my business.’ Stella stepped into the hall and, closing the door, leant on it. This wasn’t how she talked to her cleaning clients. ‘I think it’s time you started telling me the truth.’

‘You weren’t truthful. You pretended to be a cleaner when all the time you were spying on me.’

‘I didn’t know who you were until I found your husband’s driving licence.’ To Stella’s surprise – she had expected her to brazen it out – Lulu appeared to accept this.

‘My husband killed himself. They said so at the inquest, but William said it was murder, that Rick would never kill himself. William was just looking for a way to dump me. He behaved as if
I
killed him. Well, I’ve proved him wrong!’

‘How?’

‘Come with me.’

Lulu went up the stairs, so Stella had to follow her. On the way up, she tried Jack again.

‘This is Jack, who are—’

‘I’ve found out who killed my husband.’ Lulu went into Rick Frost’s study. She sat down in the black swivel chair and scooted the mouse about. The computer screen awoke.

Stella was looking at the picture of a room, taken from above. It showed a black chair, a desk and filing cabinets. It was the room they were standing in. There was a man sitting in the chair. With a shock, Stella realized she had seen the back of his head before. She looked behind her. Above the door, a camera was fitted to the wall. A red light blinked. It was on.

‘I cracked Rick’s password. My brother suggested I try his company registration number and he was right. This is who Rick told William was a threat.’ She jabbed at the screen. ‘He killed my husband.’

Lulu moved the cursor and the man on the screen came to life.

He opened a drawer in the desk, shut it and opened it again. He took something out. Stella moved closer. It was a belt with bullets in it. As she saw this, Lulu opened the same drawer in the desk and pulled out the same belt. She put it back and shut the drawer. The man put the belt back.

He sat so still that Stella thought the film had stopped. Then he leant forward and seemed to be peering at the desk. He took something from his jacket and scribbled on it as if crossing something out. Then, as if startled, he got up and went to the door. Stella saw his face. It was Jack.

She grabbed the mouse off Lulu and paused the film. She read date and time at the bottom of the screen. It was the day she’d found the driving licence. The time was eleven minutes past eleven. The time when Stanley had barked outside the landing cupboard. Now she knew why. Jack had been in there.

‘This man didn’t kill your husband,’ Stella said firmly.

She bent forward and looked along the desk, as Jack had done in the film. She ran her finger over faint indentations in the veneer.