Night Watcher (30 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

The taste of his disappointment was bitter in his mouth. Even the air around him in this claustrophobic place seemed tainted. He longed for the security of his hiding place deep beneath the store beside his only companions, the creatures and crawling things that also inhabited the dark places. But he had not been able to move because there had been three of them in the office. They clustered like witches round a cauldron, round the package he had left for her.

He was the instrument of God. His plan should not have failed, but it had. He had delivered his gift to her in the same way he had delivered gifts to the woman; the one who had cheated him; the one who was dead. But this one was not responding in the same way.

Where was the fear? Where was the distress?

Without fear and distress there was no point in providing gifts, but how could he move to the next stage without them?

It had not been part of the plan to have other people there. She should have been on her own. He had watched her face when she opened the package, but apart from a blasphemy, there was no response, no fear, no distress. The most she had shown was distaste, which was not the same thing at all. Then, if that was not enough, they had removed the gift so he could not claim it back. And claiming it back was part of the ritual. It was as if they had stolen part of his soul.

At the first opportunity, when the office was empty and the door closed, he wriggled back along the duct to the next grating, the one overlooking the food hall. But it was as if the fates were conspiring against him. He could see, but could not hear, when she was sitting in the restaurant area which was well out of hearing range of any of the ventilation shafts. The fat one remained with her, the busybody who had taken his gift from her and hidden it. After a time the policewoman joined them and she, in turn, took the gift away.

At this stage in any mission he should have been feeling the familiar build up of excitement, the forerunner of completion when he would offer his ultimate gift to God.

The gift of the chosen one’s power.

But the doubts gathering in his mind made him dispirited and discouraged. Had he been mistaken? If he had been allowed to complete his previous mission she would never have been chosen. Was God punishing him for failing? And if he did complete a mission on someone who had not been chosen, someone who did not have enough power to make the gift to God worthwhile – did that mean he would have to pay the ultimate price and donate himself to God?

He remembered the sandwiches and the tea and the little tokens of kindness he had witnessed. He also remembered her refusal of Patrick Drake’s offer of promotion, a sign that she did not want power. But then she had been forced to take it, a sign she did want power. Then there was last night with the policeman, surely proof that she, like the other one, used sex for power.

What he needed now was more proof that she was the chosen one and he could only resolve his dilemma if he continued watching her.

His mind was still muddled when he followed her home. He felt rather than saw her eyes examine the travellers in the bus, but he kept his head down, studying a newspaper he had no interest in.

Later he had hovered outside her door, but the intense silence signalled to him that she knew he was there. And then, when the policeman came he had barely had time to tiptoe up the stairs to a higher landing. He sat on the stairs, smiling to himself. Surely the policeman being here was proof that she was evil. If she was not evil she would tell him to leave.

A door opening higher in the building forced him to scuttle down the stairs, past her door, through which he could barely hear raised voices, and down another flight of stairs to the entrance door to the building. He did not need to open the door very far to slide round it. After a quick look around him he scurried to his hiding place of last night. From that vantage point he could watch her window until the light went out.

He had hardly taken up his position when the policeman left the building, slamming the door behind him. Anger surrounded the man like an aura. She must have told him to go.

He flexed his fingers and stuck them into the coat pocket where he kept God’s implement. The blade was sharp and it needed a sacrifice, but he did not dare contaminate it with the wrong sacrifice or he would never be able to use it again. Because then it would be Satan’s tool.

He waited until her light went out before leaving. Still confused, still looking for proof.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Bill spent a sleepless night. His confrontation with Julie had done nothing to relieve his mind and he still did not know what to do. However, as he tossed and turned he knew he would have done anything to have her warm body lying beside him.

Eventually he rose, washed and shaved, and went into the office, ostensibly to work. He was the first to arrive and he wandered aimlessly round the room looking at the photographs, flow charts, and the list of suspects that had been marked on the display boards, but not registering anything. The paralysis in his brain did not improve when he sat at his desk, if anything it became worse and the urge to bang his head on the desk top was almost too much to resist.

He was still staring moodily at the address book on his desk when the others started to drift in. The noise of their feet, voices and the whir of computers powering up played a noisy tune in his head.

‘Christ, you look like death,’ Sue plonked her rear end on the corner of his desk. Sometimes Bill thought she preferred that to sitting in a chair at her own desk.

He grunted, threw the address book into a filing tray with a gesture of disgust and started to play with a pencil, turning it round and round before stabbing dots on to a piece of paper.

‘Worried about Julie, are you?’ Sue whispered. ‘Maybe we should ask for surveillance in case our weird friend tries some funny tricks.’

The bleakness in Bill’s eyes increased. Anything could have happened to Julie after he left her last night, but he had been so angry at her deception, and angry with himself for having been sucked in, that he had not given it a thought. ‘You don’t think . . .’

‘Don’t worry, I phoned the store. She’s there. Apparently went in early.’ Sue tapped a fingernail on Bill’s desk and looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Maybe she’s another one who couldn’t sleep.’

Grant Donaldson stopped beside them. Bill had not seen him coming. ‘Briefing meeting,’ he hissed. ‘It might be helpful to the investigation.’ The sarcasm in his voice was barely masked.

‘Sorry, sir.’ Sue stood up. ‘Coming, Bill?’

The two of them walked over to the other side of the room where everyone was clustered round the display boards. Blair Armstrong was finishing his feedback.

‘What were your impressions of them?’ Andy was frowning.

‘He was more nervous than she was, but she doesn’t seem to have much up top. Pretty little piece though.’ Blair looked thoughtful. ‘I thought they were both lying through their teeth.’

Sid Low chipped in. ‘I’m not sure about Blair’s assessment of Mrs Moody. I thought her simple act was just that, an act. I think you’ll find the lady’s very clever, probably more so than her husband.’

‘So,’ Andy said, ‘Ken Moody’s still in the frame as a suspect. What about Mrs Moody?’

‘I’d say she was the jealous kind,’ Sid said. ‘Do anything to keep her husband.’

‘Any word from the victim’s husband yet?’ Andy looked round the group.

‘There was a phone message this morning from his place of business. He’s expected to return from France on Monday. He’ll come into the office as soon as he gets back.’

‘Have you checked out his movements yet?’ Andy scribbled on the white board.

‘Didn’t think there was any point until after we’d found out where he’s been for the last few days. But it’s down as a task still to be done.’

‘Thanks, Jill,’ Andy said. ‘Bugger’s not in any hurry, is he?’ He added a note to his previous scribble before looking up. ‘Bill, you’ve been going through the stuff we removed from the house. Did you get anything from it?’

‘Some photographs and addresses,’ Bill studied his fingernails. ‘We’re following up the leads.’ He knew he should have provided the information he had gleaned about Julie, but there would still be time if other leads did not work out. He caught Sue’s curious glance, but ignored it.

‘Sir,’ Sue pushed herself to the front of the group. ‘I wondered if we should provide surveillance for Miss Forbes. She might be in danger, and it could pay off if it leads us to the murderer.’

Andy gave her a sharp look. ‘Where is she just now?’

‘In the store, sir. I checked this morning.’

‘So she should be safe enough for the time being. Can you lean on the staff to keep tabs on her and phone us if she goes anywhere?’

‘Yes, sir. But what about after work, sir, that’s probably when she’ll be at her most vulnerable.’

‘That’s very true.’ Andy smiled at Sue. ‘I admire your concern and the keen way you pursue your duty so, in the circumstances, I’ll allocate it to you.’ He turned away grinning. ‘You and Sid can commence your surveillance from, say five o’clock, before the store closes until, let’s say, midnight. After that, Blair and Jill can take over until morning when you’ll be back on duty again. Satisfactory?’

‘I suppose I asked for it,’ Sue said afterwards. ‘But the bugger didn’t need to enjoy it so much.’

***

Out of habit, Julie went to her office in the food hall, but it had been stripped of everything apart from the bare desk and empty filing cabinet. It now looked more like a largish cupboard than an office and had a deserted air. She sat for a moment in her chair trying to feel something at the loss of her private space, but there was no regret, nothing. But then it never had felt like her office, her private space, she had left all that in Edinburgh. She was starting to feel she would never see Edinburgh again, but Adrian had promised to keep her job open until Christmas, and this was only the 29th of November. She still had time.

It was with a sigh that she entered the lift and used the key she had been given to reach the top floor where the executive offices were. She supposed she had better show willing and start work there, at least until all this fuss was over. Bill’s voice still echoed in her mind, ‘Don’t you realise this puts you in the frame for Nicole’s murder?’ At some level she supposed she had known this, but she had pushed it down somewhere deep within herself and ignored it. Oh yes, she had wanted her revenge on Nicole, but that had not included murder.

The lift doors grated open and she stood for a moment before she plucked up courage to enter the main office. It was certainly a lot more luxurious on this floor, deep carpets instead of cord, works of art on the walls instead of posters and, as she entered the main office, she noticed that even the clerical assistants had mahogany desks instead of veneered chipboard.

The office manager, Evelyn, hurried over to greet her and introduce her to the typists and clerical staff. She took Julie on a tour of the clerical suite pointing out where everything was, where the various facilities were and where the financial staff, accountants, clerks and such like had their offices. Finally Evelyn ushered her through the glass doors to the executive office area where the carpets were even deeper and the artwork more valuable.

‘I checked with the police and they said it was all right for you to have Nicole’s office.’ She swung the door open. The room was large with a massive desk, leather swivel chair, double-door filing cabinet, deep-buttoned leather settee and armchair, coffee table and drinks cabinet. Julie had seen smaller lounges.

‘I hope you don’t mind having Nicole’s office. After what’s happened,’ Evelyn said, her voice tentative. ‘But Patrick said you had to have it.’

Julie smiled, ‘And what Patrick says goes, I take it.’ She did not like the office, did not want to be here and most definitely did not want to be reminded of Nicole. But on the other hand, she did not want to upset Evelyn.

‘It’ll be fine, Evelyn,’ she said.

‘I’ve sorted out your stuff and put it in drawers and the filing cabinet. I hope that’s all right,’ she sounded anxious. ‘Oh, and your briefcase is on the desk. I didn’t want to open it.’

‘That’s fine Evelyn, I’ll call if I need you.’ Julie waited until Evelyn left the room and walked over to the desk. It was not her briefcase. It was Nicole’s. She sat down and stared at it. She should give it to the police, but then there might not be anything important inside. She leaned over and snapped the locks open, took a deep breath and lifted the lid.

It contained very little. Some sheets of paper, a file labelled Development Plan and right on top a passport. Julie fingered it. Although she had not said anything to Julie, maybe Nicole had been planning to go abroad. She laid the passport on her desk. She should give this to the police maybe it would be a clue to Nicole’s death. What if she had been planning to run off with Ken, for instance? Julie turned the passport round and round teasing the pages between her fingers until she came to the photograph, but it was not Nicole’s face that it pictured. It was the face of a man, handsome, with longish hair and a strong chin. Scott Ralston the name said, but that was impossible. How could it be Scott’s passport if he was in France? That was where everyone thought he was, unless, of course, he was not there. The possibility that he might never have left Dundee flitted across her mind, but she dismissed it. There was probably some logical explanation.

She put her hand out to the phone, but just then her door opened. ‘Settling in are we?’ Ken lounged in the doorway and she hurriedly pushed the passport into a drawer.

‘Yes thank you,’ she said keeping her voice level and ignoring the sarcasm she thought she could detect.

He crossed the room towards her, leaned on the desk and threatened, ‘Don’t think you’re going to get in my way. Patrick already has me marked for greater things so just be careful.’

She had no intention of letting him know he frightened her so, keeping her voice cool, she said, ‘The last thing I’d want to do would be to get in your way. In fact there is a distinct possibility I might not stay too long with this firm. So I’d be obliged if you would leave my office.’

Once he left she relaxed, leaning back in her chair until the shaking subsided. Ken Moody, she decided, was a dangerous man underneath all that boyish charm.

She had completely forgotten about the passport.

***

Sue parked the car outside the back entrance of Patrick Drake’s Department Store at exactly five o’clock.

‘I really mucked it up for you tonight, Sid,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have anything on anyway. Besides, it’s overtime. Not often you get that nowadays.’

‘I suppose so,’ Sue said. ‘But I’m starting to think it would’ve been better if I’d kept my mouth shut.’

‘What and lose the chance of nabbing a murderer? It’s our big chance, Sue. Could mean promotion if it works out.’

‘Yeah,’ Sue said. ‘As long as we don’t fall down on the job and, instead of rescuing the damsel, we have us another body. Mind you, I don’t know what they could demote you to. Office cleaner maybe?’

Sid grinned. ‘You sure this is the way she’ll come out?’

‘Sure, I’m sure. I checked it with the security guy. All we have to do now is sit and wait.’