Faithfully: Chase & Halshaw #1 (23 page)

“How’s the Achilles, Mr McKinley?” asked Chase.

Paul McKinley froze in the doorway and stared back at him.

“Come and sit down, please,” Chase continued, pleasantly.
“Have you met my colleague DC Halshaw?”

Halshaw shot McKinley a friendly smile. He settled himself
in the chair next to Chase and looked back at her flatly. She shrugged, and
turned back to Chase.

“Did you play football at the weekend?” Chase asked.

“Yeah. We had a league match against BMF Healthcare.”

“At Chiltern Park?”

“No. At their ground. BMF has a sports centre over towards
Ruislip.”

“How did you get on?”

“We lost. Five-four. They got a penalty in the eighty-ninth
minute.”

“And you played the whole game?”

“First hour or so, yeah. Then Mike wanted to bring on one of
the young lads, so I came off.”

“I understand. What position do you play?”

“Sweeper. I used to be an attacking midfielder, but I’m not
as quick as I used to be, unfortunately.”

“Who is?” smiled Chase. Then his smile vanished. “So you
were unable to train for more than thirty minutes on Monday, yet you were able
to complete an hour of a competitive game on Saturday. It sounds to me like
your problem on Monday was exaggerated, to say the least. Wasn’t it?”

McKinley looked back in confusion.

“Wasn’t it?” demanded Chase.

“You think I was putting it on so I could nip off and break
into Amy’s flat, don’t you?”

“It seems to fit the facts. Don’t you think, Constable?”

Halshaw hesitated for a moment, and then nodded
emphatically.

McKinley looked from one to the other in bewilderment.
“Look. I’ve told you before. I didn’t break into Amy’s apartment. Why should
I?”

“We know exactly what you think of her, sir. You’ve probably
still got a key to her flat. Haven’t you?”

Silence.

“Haven’t you?” demanded Chase.

McKinley said nothing, but Halshaw noticed an angry red
patch beginning to burn in each pale cheek.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“But I was in the pub all the time!” McKinley blurted.

“Oh yes? Who with?”

“Two girls from Accounts.”

“Names?”

“Carol and Tracey.”

“Surnames?”

“No idea. Look, Inspector, they’re just a couple of girls I
say hi to in the lift. That’s all.”

“What time did you get to the pub?”

“About quarter past eight?”

“Were they there when you arrived?”

“Yes.”

“By themselves?”

“Yeah.”

“When did they leave?”

“Ten-ish, maybe. I don’t know, Inspector. I was well pissed
by that point. Ask Mike and Glenda. They’ll tell you.”

“Because you helped yourself to Amy’s vodka.”

“No I bloody didn’t! Look, Inspector. I didn’t break into
Amy’s apartment. OK, I admit it, I’m still sore that she got that job, and I’m
jealous of her relationship with Bryn. I wish we were still together. But I
would never...”

“Your wife seems a very pleasant woman,” Chase interjected,
mildly.

The colour in McKinley’s cheeks rose further. “How dare you
bring Glenda into this?” he demanded.

“He didn’t,” replied Halshaw, sternly. “You did.”

*

“Hello again, Mr Salter,” said Chase. “Take a seat, please.”

Les Salter settled himself in the chair Chase indicated. He
took off his glasses and polished them methodically, then replaced them and
looked first at Halshaw, then back at Chase.

“I don’t think you’ve met my colleague, DC Halshaw, have
you, sir?”

Salter smiled complacently and shook his head.

“This won’t take a minute, Mr Salter. We just wanted to ask
you one very quick question.”

“Go on.”

“Why did you lie about your whereabouts on Monday evening?”

Salter’s smile didn’t falter. “Did I?”

“Yes. You told me you spent the evening with your wife and family.
But your marriage broke up recently, didn’t it, sir?”

“True enough, Inspector. That’s not a crime, though, is it?
If it was, we’d all be guilty.” His small hazel eyes seemed to drill into
Chase’s as he spoke.

Chase shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “So where were you
on Monday evening?” he asked.

“Like I told you, Inspector. I was with my wife.”

“Doing what?”

“Dividing the spoils,” smiled Salter. “We had a Chinese meal
and spent the evening going through the books and CDs.”

“That all sounds very civilised, if you don’t mind my saying
so.”

“Our marriage had run its course, Inspector. We both accept
that. It’s painful, of course, but inevitable. There’s no point making it any
harder than it needs to be, is there?”

“Nice theory, Mr Salter. But isn’t there any anger? Or
bitterness?”

Salter shook his head. “Not really. We’re well past that
stage. But we spent over half our lives together, so there’s a strong residue
of affection. And lots of happy memories, too.”

“OK, Mr Salter. What time did you leave?”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “My wife chose to move out of our
home. She’s staying with a girlfriend nearby. Just temporarily.”

“What’s her name?”

“My wife? Elaine.”

“I meant the girlfriend, Mr Salter.”

“Of course. Her name is Ginny
Marsham
.
Virginia, I should say.”

“Address?”

“18
Chenies
Close, Chiltern Park.
Flat 2.”

“Thank you, Mr Salter,” said Chase. “So what time did your
wife leave?”

“About eleven, I think. I can’t remember exactly.”

“OK. And what about Wednesday evening? What were your
movements then?”

Salter’s smile seemed to waver for a moment. “I was at my
evening class,” he replied. “At South Bourne Adult Education Centre.”

“What are you studying?”

“Italian.”

“And afterwards?”

“Straight home to bed, I’m afraid. It’s been a difficult few
weeks and I was very tired.” He frowned. “Why are you asking about Wednesday,
Inspector? Surely the break-in at Amy’s was on Monday?”

Chase looked at him steadily and said nothing.

“What? Has something else happened to her?” He sat forward intently.
“Poor Amy! Was it that bastard McKinley? Or Bryn Lewis? Tell me, Inspector.
Please.”

“No, sir. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that, er...”

“We’re investigating another case in the area, sir,” Halshaw
interjected. “A bad road traffic accident. Just near the tube station. I don’t
suppose you saw anything on your way home from your class, did you?”

“No, nothing. But I’ve been going home the back way, because
of the road works.”

“The gas main works on Cardigan Road, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“OK, Mr Salter. That’s fine. We won’t take up any more of
your time. Thank you.”

*

“Thanks, Halshaw,” smiled Chase. “I was struggling for a
moment there.”

“No problem,” she replied, with a broad grin. “It wasn’t
exactly an inspired lie, though. CID don’t usually investigate road traffic
accidents, do they?”

“Not usually, no.”

Her smile faded. “Did you believe him?”

“Who? McKinley or Salter?”

“Either.”

“McKinley, no. I don’t believe anything he tells me.”

“What about Salter?”

“What about him?”

“Having a cosy evening with his wife dividing up their stuff
so soon after their marriage broke up. Not very likely, is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. When Miriam and I first broke up, it was
all fairly calm for a week or two. It was only then that the emotions really
started to kick in. Delayed shock, I suppose.”

Halshaw nodded understandingly. “Everyone’s different, I
guess.”

“That’s true. But even so, you’re right. It does sound a
bit, er, unusual, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So what do you think? Shall we pay a visit to Mrs Salter
and her girlfriend?”

“I don’t think that was quite what Salter had in mind,” she
smiled.

“Oh, probably not. But there’s only one way to find out,
isn’t there?”

“Thanks for coming in this afternoon, Anna,” said Lily,
running a manicured hand through her glossy black hair. “I really appreciate
it.”

“That’s OK,” Anna replied, hanging up her jacket. “How is
your Mum, anyway?”

“Oh, she seems all right in herself now. But she’s scared,
of course.”

“Of course. I remember the first time Mummy had a funny turn.
She wouldn’t let me leave her alone in the house for days afterwards. It was as
if she’d turned back into a child overnight.”

“I think my Mum’s more worried about going to the hospital.”

“Doesn’t she like hospitals?”

“Who does?” chuckled Lily. “No, I think she’s scared of what
they might find. Or that something might go wrong, like not coming round from
the anaesthetic.”

“I can’t blame her,” smiled Anna.

Lily walked over to the two elderly ladies who were browsing
a display of roses intently. “Can I help you at all?” she asked.

“No thank you. We’re just looking,” the less frail-looking
one answered.

“Give me a shout if you need anything, won’t you?”

“We will, dear. Thank you.”

Lily turned back to Anna and frowned. “There’s something
different about you,” she said thoughtfully. “But I can’t work out what it is.
Have you had your hair done, or something?”

“No.”

“Had a makeover?”

“No.”

“New undies?”

“No.”

“A liquid lunch, maybe?”

“No!” laughed Anna. “You know me.”

“So what is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Lilly frowned, and then shook her head slowly. “Oh no,
Anna,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re back on the happy pills again. Please!”

“Of course not!”

“That’s a relief,” she smiled. “In which case, there’s only
one explanation.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s pretty unlikely, I know. But if I didn’t know you
better, I’d say you’d had sex. Within the last twelve hours.”

Anna nodded vigorously.

“You haven’t, have you?”

She nodded again.

“More than once, maybe?”

Anna grinned. Lily noticed red patches appear on her pale
cheeks, which only served to highlight the sparkle in her eyes.

“Way to go, girl!” exclaimed Lily. The two elderly ladies
both looked round, startled. “So who is he, then?” she asked, more quietly.

“You know poor Amy had a break-in at her flat last week?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he’s the detective who’s investigating the case.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot up. “You haven’t wasted any time, have
you?” she chuckled. “What’s he called?”

“Chase. Allen Chase. He’s a Detective Inspector.”

“A good name for a copper,” mused Lily. “Don’t tell me, he’s
got soulful blue eyes, listens to Wagner, and drives a classic car. You know,
an old Jag or something.”

“Well, he’s got soulful eyes all right. But they’re brown.
And he drives a new-ish Ford, not an old Jag.”

“What about the Wagner?”

“No sign of any opera at all. Not yet, anyway.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s lovely, Lily. Really lovely. He’s kind, he’s gentle,
he’s thoughtful. He just seems to understand, somehow.”

“Sensitive, you mean?”

“Very, I think. But not a wimp.”

“Sounds like the anti-Chris!”

Anna laughed. “You could say that.”

“Is he single?”

“Divorced. Quite recently.”

“As good as, you mean?”

“No, really divorced this time.”

“That’s what they all say, isn’t it?” she retorted.

Anna shrugged.

“How old is he?” asked Lily.

“In his early forties, I think. I haven’t actually asked him
yet.”

“Toy boy, eh?” she chuckled. “What does he look like?”

“Lovely smile. Soulful eyes, like I said. Beyond that, he’s
hard to describe. Medium height, medium build, I suppose.”

“Hair?”

“Yes, Lily, he’s got hair.”

Lily grinned sarcastically and said nothing.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist that. It’s brown, cut short,
receding slightly, a bit grey around the edges, but yes, he’s definitely got
hair.”

“And hung like a donkey, eh?”

“That’s for me to know and you not to find out,” Anna
replied, deadpan. Then she added, sweetly “Anyway, Lily. Just how is a donkey
hung, exactly?”

Lily burst out laughing. The two elderly women turned and
glared, then stomped slowly out of the shop, muttering to each other
indignantly.

“I think I scared them off,” said Anna. “Sorry.”

Lily snorted. “Those two? They weren’t going to buy
anything. They never do. So what happened? Come on. I want to know everything.”

Anna smiled softly. “Well, Al phoned up on Sunday afternoon
and invited me out for dinner that evening.”

“Where did he take you?”

“Chez Bertrand. You know, in South Bourne?”

“Very nice. And have you seen him since?”

“Yes. Last night. And tonight, hopefully.”

“And you have had sex with him, have you?”

“Oh yes. Several times.”

“You’re sure?”

“God, Lily!” laughed Anna. “I know things have been pretty
quiet on the nookie front in recent years, but I haven’t completely forgotten
what it’s like.”

“Good for you,” smiled Lily. “Sounds just what the doctor
ordered.” She glanced at her watch. “Christ!” she exclaimed. “I’m late for
picking up Mum.”

“Off you go, Lily. Hope it all goes well.”

“Sorry to rush off like this...”

“I’ll be fine. Really.”

“I’ll be back by five, I promise.”

“Bye, Lily,” said Anna, firmly.

Once Lily had departed, in a flurry of keys and glasses,
Anna perched on the stool behind the counter and sighed. The shop was deserted.
She felt a little guilty about taking Lily’s money: afternoons were the
graveyard shift until the commuters started coming in about five.

She wandered into the back room of the shop, retuned the
radio from Classic FM to Magic, and put the kettle on. Lily’s right, she said
to herself. Al is just what I need. At least, I hope so. God, I really, really
hope so!

*

Ten minutes later, Anna was sitting at the counter, a
steaming mug of tea to hand, idly leafing through Lily’s
Daily Mail
with
Michael
Bublé
crooning softly in the background. She
flipped past the strident news pages, passed over articles about substances
that cause or cure cancer, and had just found an article about winter fashion
trends when the bell over the door chimed. She looked up, and saw a petite,
bird-like woman entering the shop. Her dark hair was cut short, and she had
draped a large, multi-coloured floral scarf around the shoulders of her black wool
overcoat. She fixed Anna with her small, keen eyes and marched briskly up to
the counter. “I need to send some flowers to my mother,” she declared.

“OK,” smiled Anna, laying her paper aside. “What would you
like to send her?”

 “A bouquet, please. Like that one over there.” She
pointed at a colourful arrangement Lily had set up in a vase at one end of the
counter.

“OK. I can arrange that for you. When do you want it to be
delivered?”

“Tomorrow. Have I left it too late?”

Anna frowned. “Maybe. Does she live locally?”

“Not far away. Ickenham.”

“We can deliver there tomorrow, no problem. Any particular
time?”

“Not really. She’s pretty much housebound now.”

Anna gave her a sympathetic look. “Let me take some details.
Just a moment, please.” She ducked down below the counter and reappeared
clutching a spiral bound notebook and a pen, which she tested by scribbling in
a corner of the page.

“OK. Let’s start with your mother’s name and address.”

The customer dictated the details, slowly and precisely.
When she had finished, Anna read back the details, and the customer nodded
curtly.

“Right then,” Anna continued. “Let me see exactly what’s in
that bouquet, then I can give you a price.” She moved down the counter, pulled
the vase towards her, and began to note down the various types of flower.

“I wish we had a flower shop like this where I live,” the
woman said, almost to herself.

Anna looked up for a moment and smiled politely.

“When I was married we had a lovely flower shop, just round
the corner,” she went on. “But where I live now there’s nothing.”

Anna had produced a calculator and was busily tapping in
numbers. “You don’t live round here, then?” she enquired.

“No. I’ve been at a meeting at the Teachers’ Centre. I was
on my way out when I suddenly remembered I hadn’t organised any flowers for my
mother’s birthday.”

“Time can run away with you sometimes, can’t it?”

The customer nodded.

“Right,” said Anna. “That will be £36.50 altogether.
Including delivery and VAT, of course.”

“That’s fine,” replied the customer, handing over her credit
card.

Anna slotted the card into the reader, punched in the
amount, and handed the reader to the customer. She covered one hand with the
other as she quickly typed in her PIN, then handed the reader back.

“One last thing. while we’re waiting for your card to go
through,” Anna continued. “What message do you want to send with the flowers?”

The other woman thought for a moment. “Oh, just put ‘To
Mummy, Many Happy Returns. Love from Mimi and James.’ And two, no, three
kisses, I think. Two from me and one from him.”

Anna dutifully jotted the message down in her notebook.

The card reader’s printer whirred into life. Deftly, Anna
tore off the merchant receipt, and handed back the card and the customer copy.

“There,” she said. “All done. We’ll get the flowers over to
your mother tomorrow.”

The customer looked relieved. “Thank you very much,” she
replied. “You’ve saved my life!” A smile lit up her rather feline face.

Anna began to return the smile, but the other woman’s face
had become severe again. “Goodbye,” she added, before turning on her heel and
marching out of the shop.

“Bye,” Anna called after her. “Thank you.”

The bell over the door chimed again as the woman departed.

Anna shook her head and smiled wryly as she gathered up the
paperwork for the order. When she picked up the credit card receipt, something
about it caught her eye. She looked more closely. The cardholder name was Mrs M
Chase.

What a strange coincidence, she thought.