Night Watcher (7 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Patrick Drake’s Department Store was one of the most impressive buildings in Dundee. It spread over a whole block of the High Street with large display windows in three streets, and reached backwards, almost to Whitehall Crescent, at its rear. Not only did it occupy so much ground space, but it also stretched upwards for five stories and down for one. If you counted the bottom basement, where there were heating ducts and a conglomeration of pipes and wires servicing the upper regions, then the store extended downwards for two levels.

Julie had been working there for the past two months, thanks mainly to Nicole’s guilt trip over the accident; she was in charge of the food hall which occupied most of the basement floor. The restaurant which took up the rest of the space was managed by her friend Betty, whose cooking skills brought a steady stream of customers downstairs. There was also the coffee shop one floor up, in one corner of the ground floor, which served the best of coffees, a selection of teas, and tempting cream cakes.

Julie always arrived at the store in the morning before any of the other section managers, although there was no need for this. She liked to ensure that her section was ready when the doors opened. Besides, it gave her the chance to have an early cup of coffee before getting down to the business of the day.

Early morning staff entered through a rear door at the back of the building. The alley leading to this door was vastly different from the sparkling appearance of the frontage and was invariably strewn with papers, rubbish, and condoms left behind by the previous evening’s amorous seekers after privacy.

At the rear of the alley, beyond the door, a stone staircase descended to the subterranean depths of the lower basement. Two large iron skips leaned against the railing which separated the stairs from the main body of the alley and, depending on the day of the week, these were either overflowing or almost empty. However, they never lost their stink of rotting produce and other unidentifiable smells that made Julie think something had died and not been buried. Julie had tried holding her breath as she walked up the alley, but could never hold it long enough, so she compromised and held it, just before she came to the door.

Lately a tramp had taken up residence in the alley, probably because it was reasonably quiet and dark at night and provided shelter from the cold wind that rushed up the River Tay. The security staff did their best to move him on, but he always returned, and each morning he seemed to be huddling ever nearer to the door recess. This morning he looked frozen as he squatted on the frosty pavement in his huddle of tattered clothing, paper and cardboard, over which he had pulled a dirty blanket. Julie shivered at the thought of how cold he must be and feared that some morning she would find him beyond help.

Most of the staff seemed frightened of him and gave him a wide berth, but Julie did not share their fear and could only pity him. Maybe that was because she had been accustomed to tramps in Edinburgh, sitting in Princes Street with their backs against shop frontages, their begging bowls, or whatever they were using for begging bowls, in front of them. Despite being used to them though, she had always had a niggling feeling that no one should have to beg, and she often suspected that what they wanted was money for drink or drugs. So, while she was sorry for them she never threw money in their caps, although she sometimes slipped them a bar of chocolate or a sandwich.

This tramp, however, did not have a begging bowl or a cap or anything else in front of him. He was just there, a miserable bundle of rags, inviting sympathy rather than fear.

Julie’s heels clacked off the paving stones, throwing an echo upward between the buildings the alley sliced its way through. It was deserted except for the tramp and herself. She paused as she drew level with him. For some reason she always expected him to look up and acknowledge her presence, but he remained bundled in his makeshift bedding giving no indication he knew she was there.

A flurry of wind teased at the edge of her coat making her shiver and she wondered how he must feel as the awfulness of being cold and having nowhere to go forced its way into her consciousness. But he was always there no matter how bad the weather. This alley was his, although he never argued and never objected when the security guard came out and hustled him on his way. He simply moved on, although they all knew he would be back once the store closed down.

The tramp, in his cocoon of blanket, paper and cardboard, was motionless as Julie walked round him, and for a moment she wondered if he was still living.

An unwanted memory of Dave flickered and returned to haunt her. It seemed that one day he had been a living, breathing man and then, in the blink of an eye, he had been gone.

The bundle heaved slightly and she knew her fears were groundless, although it reminded her of the level of her obsession with death. An obsession she knew would consume her until she laid Dave’s memory finally to rest. And that would never happen until she had dealt with Nicole.

A bell was cemented into the stone of the door surround, a large grey button attached to a heavy electric cable that reached upwards and vanished into the building somewhere above her head. She pressed it and, although she could not hear anything, imagined the sound wriggling its way up the cable and into the building.

‘Morning, Julie. All ready for a new day then?’ The security guard who opened the door smiled at her. She smiled back. She liked Harry, he was quiet and gentle, although perhaps a bit too sensitive for the job.

‘He still there then?’ Harry nodded at the tramp. ‘Poor bugger, I’ll have to move him on soon. Still, it’ll be a good hour before Madam puts in an appearance so I’ll let him sit for a while.’

‘Better not let her hear you call her Madam,’ Julie grinned up at Harry, ‘or she’ll have your guts for garters.’

‘I think she has them already.’ A tired look flitted over Harry’s pleasant features. ‘I’m getting too old for her shenanigans and that’s the truth, Julie. If it wasn’t that I needed this job I’d walk out, but if I did where would I get another one.’ He shrugged his shoulders and closed the door. ‘If it weren’t for my wee Rosie . . . ’

Julie put her hand on his arm, ‘I know, Harry. But her bark’s worse than her bite you know.’ Julie did not really believe this, she had seen the way Nicole treated Harry. She tightened her grip in what she hoped was a comforting squeeze. ‘Maybe if you told her about Rosie, maybe she’d be more understanding.’ Even as she said it, Julie knew it would not make any difference to Nicole it would only make her treat Harry worse than she did already because she would know his weakness.

Harry shook his head, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, she’d only use it against me. Anyway, I don’t particularly want to let her know about Rosie and listen to her nasty comments.’

Julie let go of his arm. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ She sighed. Depression flooded through her in a wave of sadness that left her with a hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach. At least Harry had his Rosie. She had nothing, only a memory. She would have given anything to have had a child to care for, even one like Rosie. Suddenly she was in desperate need of her usual fix of coffee. ‘I’ll see you later, Harry.’

‘You won’t tell her, will you?’ Harry muttered behind her.

Julie turned her head, ‘No, I won’t tell her, Harry. Your secret’s safe with me.’

‘You be careful, Julie. You may think she’s your friend, but if she gets anything on you, she’ll use it. Don’t you be telling her any of your secrets.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ Julie said. She had no intention of allowing Nicole to know any of her secrets, but she could not tell Harry that.

The heels of Julie’s shoes clattered with a comforting noise as she walked along the flagstones of the empty corridor. A sudden creak startled her and she glanced over her shoulder expecting to see Harry, but no one was there. She shrugged and hurried on, although she could not help wondering what mysteries the other doors in the corridor hid. She suspected they were mostly store cupboards or maintenance areas, although one of them probably led to the sub-basement which was not accessible to the sales and store staff.

The door at the end of the corridor swung shut after she pushed through it and emerged onto the mid-landing of the staff staircase. At the bottom of the stairs was the food hall and restaurant; while the coffee shop was upstairs on the store’s ground floor.

Julie went downstairs because she knew the coffee shop would not be ready for business yet. Betty, who saw to the restaurant, would have the kettle boiling and the coffee pot on, and she desperately needed the cup of coffee she had been promising herself.

‘Hi, Betty,’ she greeted the cook-cum-restaurant manager. ‘D’you have a paper cup of coffee for our visitor while you make me one of your lovely special coffees.’

‘Here you are,’ she passed the paper cup to Julie. ‘Mind it’s hot.’

‘Ta,’ Julie said, turning back the way she’d just come. ‘Won’t be a mo.’

‘You shouldn’t encourage him, you know,’ she heard Betty shout to her retreating back.

‘I know,’ she said, ‘but I can’t see the poor blighter freeze to death, now can I?’ Julie didn’t wait for Betty’s response.

When she reached the outer door she hooked it back so she could get in again. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘That’ll heat you up before you have to move on.’

The blanket heaved and a thin, blue-veined hand emerged. ‘Ta, Miss. You’ve a good heart.’ He grasped the cup.

‘I brought you this as well,’ Julie dropped a packet of sandwiches in the direction of his lap. She had taken them from one of the shelves in the food hall. They would never be missed.

The tramp lifted his head and, although she could not see his face, she looked into his eyes which were of the palest shade of blue she had ever seen. There was no expression in them and they reminded her of glacier ice. They were the eyes of someone who had given up and had nothing left to live for.

She shivered. He always made her feel cold, as if she was sharing the cold that was within him. Turning, she almost ran back into the store, not relaxing until the door slammed behind her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The wind increased during the night keeping the worst of the frost at bay. It blew through the trees in the orchard making the branches shake and rustle while the swaying bushes joined in the chorus. It swooped and gusted and whistled round the house, rattling the roof slates and window frames. A far off shed door clattered open and shut, with ever-increasing thuds and bangs.

Nicole slept badly, waking several times throughout the night, imagining some hidden menace within the depths of the shadows. Every creak and rustle was an intruder. She could not rid herself of the feeling she’d had the evening before that she was being watched. Even now she could still see that shape at the window, the one that had seemed more solid than a shadow.

And yet, Scott had investigated and said there was nothing. But there was something outside, she knew there was. Scott just couldn’t see it.

When she was a child she had been afraid of the dark. Afraid of the ghosts and goblins lurking in cupboards and dark places. Afraid of the shifting shadows that moved in the night. Afraid of her uncle who visited her bedroom when her parents were asleep. And more afraid to tell anyone about it, particularly Scott.

However, she had not been bothered by a fear of the dark for a long time, not since her marriage anyway. That was why she was convinced someone had been outside, in the garden, spying on her.

Last night Scott had laughed and accused her of being paranoid after he’d looked for what he had implied was an imaginary intruder, so she was not going to wake him up now and risk his ridicule again. Instead, she buried her head beneath the duvet and snuggled close to his back, knowing that as long as he was beside her she was protected.

The slamming of the front door jolted her out of a disturbed dream where she was fleeing down a dark street, chased by something shadowy and featureless. The fear lingered and gripped her, and she was relieved to see greyish daylight filtering into the bedroom. She realized the door must have been slammed by Marika, their daily maid, and not some fearsome creature from her nightmare.

The bedside clock indicated it was too early to get up, but her back ached from tossing and turning, and she was cold because Scott had pulled the duvet over himself leaving her exposed. Grasping the end of the quilt she tugged, but Scott grunted, pulling it back until once more she lay uncovered. She aimed a punch at the middle of his back, but then thought better of it, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his wrath. Scott was never at his best first thing in the morning.

‘Selfish bastard,’ she muttered, swinging her feet over the side of the bed.

Padding to the bathroom she showered quickly. It was a task rather than a pleasure and, after pulling on her clothes, she went through to the kitchen.

The maid looked up from where she was crouched in front of the dishwasher.

‘You up early this morning?’ Marika’s Polish accent was not so pronounced as it had been when she came to work for them two years ago. ‘You want I make you some breakfast?’

Nicole shuddered at the thought of food. It was too early.

‘No, Marika, I’ll just have a cup of coffee.’

She sat on one of the kitchen chairs, placed her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands while she watched Marika manipulate the percolator.

‘You all right, Mrs Ralston? You not look well.’

‘I didn’t sleep too well, Marika. I’ll be fine after some coffee.’

Steam rose, bringing with it the strong aroma of Nicole’s favourite blend as the maid poured the black liquid into a cup. She brought cream from the fridge, but Nicole shook her head. ‘I think I need it black this morning, Marika. It’ll help me wake up.’

The maid compressed her lips. ‘You be better going back to bed and sleeping it off. You no good at work like this.’

Nicole’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘You’re probably right, Marika, but I can’t. This is Mr Drake’s day at the store and he doesn’t make allowances for illness or anything else.’

Marika snorted. ‘Illness, is that what it is?’

‘It’s not a hangover,’ Nicole snapped, feeling the heat of her anger flood her body. Marika was starting to become too familiar, but she could not afford to lose her, for then there would be only herself and Scott. ‘I’m sorry, Marika, I’m just on edge because I couldn’t sleep.’

Marika shrugged her shoulders. ‘Mr Ralston, he like some coffee?’

‘No, let him sleep. He’ll get up when he’s ready, but you can tell him I’ve gone into work early.’ Nicole gulped the last of her coffee and stood up. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, as if she had only just thought of it, ‘you didn’t notice if there was anyone skulking about outside, I suppose?’

‘I no see anyone.’ Marika lifted Nicole’s cup and turned to the dishwasher. ‘You think someone out there?’ She looked out of the window.

‘No, no of course not. It was just that I thought we had an intruder last night. It doesn’t matter.’

‘What I do if intruder come back?’ Marika frowned.

‘Tell Scott, if he’s still here, or call the police, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Marika muttered.

Ralph, the big ginger tomcat was sitting on the bonnet of Scott’s BMW again. Nicole stopped to tickle him behind his ears and he purred in appreciation, a loud, rumbling noise as if Ralph had an engine tucked inside him.

‘You’ll get chased, Ralphy boy, if Scott catches you there.’

Nicole knew how much Scott hated paw prints on his cars, but then, if he couldn’t be bothered to garage the damn thing when he came home, it served him right.

Nicole kissed Ralph on top of his furry head before she walked round the corner of the house towards the two double garages which she had often considered labelling his and hers. The door slid up without a sound when she pressed the button of her remote control, and she stood for a moment considering before she threw her briefcase and handbag into the low-slung electric-blue sports car. She needed the ego boost this morning and the Porsche Boxster would give that to her. It was the car that infuriated other drivers, particularly men, when they saw a woman driver. She was in the mood to annoy men this morning.

The hum of the tyres on the tarmacadam road had a soothing effect on Nicole and she relaxed, enjoying the wind whipping at the scarf she’d bound round her hair and the envious glances of other drivers. A lorry driver honked his horn as he drove close to the rear of her car, but she just grinned, pointed one finger skywards and pressed the accelerator to leave him trailing far behind her.

The wind caught her throat bringing tears to her eyes, but she drove faster and faster enjoying the adrenalin rush the speed gave her. It was like everything else in her life, the more risk there was, the greater the thrill.

The huge Michelin wind turbines came into view, their blades rotating lazily in the breeze, and she was forced to slow down as she caught up with the tail of traffic leading into the city centre.

The slow moving vehicles failed to dampen her pleasure after the exhilarating drive. Despite this, there was an element of relief when she pulled into the car park and manoeuvred the Porsche into her usual space, underneath the overhanging carriageway of the approach road to the Tay Bridge.

Still intoxicated by the drive, she was almost at the store before she remembered she had forgotten to close the Boxster’s hood. ‘Bugger it,’ she muttered, but carried on walking. She would get a staff member to go and put the hood up later. Maybe she would get Julie to do it. After all Julie owed her big time for getting her the job.

The main doors to the department store were not yet open so Nicole was forced to enter the store by the rear entrance. She usually avoided this way in if she could, because the dirt and untidiness, the rubbish skips, and above all that bloody tramp who had taken up residence at the back of the store never failed to disgust her.

She clenched her teeth as she passed the tramp and, although she avoided looking at him, she could feel his eyes following her. Something would have to be done about him. He would have to be removed.

The key to the back door had slipped to the bottom of her bag and she leaned against the door as she rummaged for it. She could have rung the bell, but she did not because she wanted to catch that lazy bastard of a security guard skiving off when he should be working. He was old and past it, and if she’d had her way he would have been out on his arse a long time ago.

A gust of wind rippled down the alley sending bits of paper dancing in the air and rustling at the rubbish in the skips. For a moment Nicole thought she sensed a movement towards her, but when she glanced at the tramp he was still in the same place. Grasping the key she slid it into the lock, turned it and swung the door open until it was wide enough to let her enter. She slipped inside and quickly closed it again.

The electric bulbs in the corridor were too high up to provide much more than dim lighting, one of them hissed, spurted and flickered, sending odd shadows bouncing into the recesses. Nicole tutted her disapproval, although she was used to this, and had no intention of improving the lighting in a part of the store the customers never saw.

Light spilled out through the open door of the room the security guard used when he was doing duty at this entrance, and she could hear the Radio Tay announcer giving the latest news update. Tiptoeing along the corridor until she came level with the door, she peered in.

‘Just as I thought,’ she snapped, ‘reading the newspaper when you should be working.’

Nothing infuriated Nicole more than someone not pulling their weight. She had worked hard and sacrificed a lot to get where she was and knew that every minute counted in the workplace. She was generous with staff who worked to her exacting standards, but had no time for those who did not. It was not the first time a business had failed because of the laxity of some of the staff.

‘I’m sorry Mrs Ralston, but there’s nothing else to do when I’m waiting for staff to arrive.’ Harry hastily folded the newspaper and pushed it across the table.

God! How his whining annoyed her. Always making excuses, always saying he was sorry. She would make him sorry all right before she was finished with him, lazy sod. ‘Nonsense,’ she snapped. ‘There’s always something to do. That alley’s a disgrace for a start.’

‘I’m not a cleaner,’ Harry mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

‘I don’t give a damn what you are or what you aren’t. And there’s that tramp. He’s always there. It takes the tone of the place down. Get him moved on and if I catch him there again I’ll hold you responsible.’

‘Yes, Mrs Ralston. I’ll do it right away.’

Nicole turned and marched down the corridor. She was ready for her coffee now.