Night Watcher (8 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Harry waited until Nicole vanished through the door at the end of the corridor before bending down and rummaging under the table. Good job she had not noticed his shoes were off or she would have flayed him. She had already criticized his shirt and jacket this week – as if he could help it if they were slightly worn – so finding him without shoes would have suited her just fine. It would have given her an excuse to bawl him out again.

Finding his shoes he slipped his feet into them, grimacing slightly as the left one pressed on the corn on his little toe. Babs said he should go to the chiropodist, but where was he to find the extra money to do that? So instead he tried to poke the corn out with nail scissors and made it worse. He would be damned lucky if he didn’t end up with a poisoned toe.

The dizziness struck him again when he stood up, it always did if he had been bending down too long, although nowadays the time seemed to have shortened. Maybe if he didn’t have so many worries it would clear up, but that bloody Nicole Ralston did not help matters having it in for him the way she did. It wasn’t as if he had ever done anything to harm her or go against her, she just seemed to have a down on him. It had got so bad that guilt had become his normal reaction anytime she was near him, although he was sure he had nothing to feel guilty about. But it did not stop him jumping when she crept up behind him. As if that wasn’t enough, he had developed this twitch at the side of his eye which, he was positive, gave him a shifty expression. He could feel it twitching now simply because he was thinking about her.

He leaned against the table until the swimming sensation in his head settled down and the room stopped spinning. But he dare not stand too long for fear Nicole returned and found more fault with him. All it needed was for her to come back and check if he had moved that poor bugger of a tramp out of the alley. If he was still there, he dreaded to think how she would react, although he could guess.

As soon as he left the warmth of the guardroom for the draughty corridor a paroxysm of shivering engulfed him. He pulled his jacket tighter and, turning his collar up, limped to the back door. The sound of his shoes on the flagstones echoed eerily down the passage, joining with the far off rumble of water pipes from the basement and the sound of the light bulb fizzing overhead. A smell of perfume hung in the air, tantalising and teasing with its fragrance.

He wished he could buy perfume like that for Babs. She had a hard time looking after Rosie and she did not get many treats, but he knew it was probably far too expensive for his pocket even for a special gift at Christmas. Still, he supposed there were other things he should be thankful for. After all they had his pay every week and a roof over their heads, not like that poor homeless bugger camping out in the alley.

Harry hooked the door back, thinking that the fresh air would clear the smell of Nicole from the corridor before he went back inside. He stood for a moment looking at the ragged bundle sitting against the wall of the alley. At first glance it just looked like a heap of rubbish except for the tips of blue-tinged fingers hanging on to the edge of the rags, holding them close round the unseen body, so that hardly any skin was exposed to the air. Poor sod, he thought, it must be awful to sink to that state. After all he’s a human being just like the rest of us.

‘Come on, mate. The boss lady says I have to move you on.’

The bundle stirred, bleary, blue eyes stared up at him with a bleakness and desperation Harry hoped he would never see again. After the fraction of a moment the tramp tried to scramble to his feet while still grasping the blanket tightly round his head and body. Grunting, he almost collapsed against the wall, and Harry could hear the rasp of his breath as he struggled to pull himself up. Harry thought for a moment the tramp would not be able to push himself away from the wall without falling down again, but after swaying to and fro several times, the mountain of rags started to shuffle in the direction of the street.

‘Wait a minute,’ Harry said, rummaging in his pocket. He pressed a pound coin into the blue fingers that protruded from the rags. ‘Get yourself a cup of tea or something. It’ll heat you up.’

The tramp nodded and, turning, he shambled off.

Harry looked at the rest of his change, rattling it in his hand before he stuck it back in his pocket. Oh, well, he thought, that’s my packet of fags for today up the spout. Still, it won’t kill me and it’ll please Babs because she says I smoke too much. Sighing, he went through the door, releasing the hook holding it open, and let it slam shut.

The warmth of the guardroom was welcome after the cold air outside. Harry risked putting the kettle on and plonked a teabag into the mug he took out of the cupboard on the wall. It was not much of a room, not like the Hollywood versions he had seen on the telly, where security guards sat in a posh room with a wall of computers so they could watch all parts of the building. He had to be satisfied with a sink, cupboard, hard chair and table. At least it was warm. But that was only because some of the heating pipes from the basement passed through this room before entering the complicated system of ducts and ventilation passageways winding tortuous routes through the upper floors of the building.

He drank his tea quickly while he checked his notebook for outstanding jobs to be done. Then he started checking the casual security staff who patrolled the departments. They only started work when the store opened and they finished when it closed. But Harry, as the regular man, had a responsibility for checking the maintenance of the building and instructing the maintenance and cleaning staff.

First things first, he thought, and depositing his cup in the sink he left the guardroom. Stopping at a door halfway along the corridor, he opened it and peered down the stone stairs into the murky depths of the lower basement.

‘You there, Neil?’ he shouted. He did not particularly want to go down the stairs because he was not familiar with the layout and feared he might lose himself among the conglomeration of pipes that, as far as he knew, stretched the entire length and breadth of the store. This was the domain of electricians, plumbers and odd job men, not security guards.

A door slammed somewhere in the depths and he shouted again until he heard the shuffle of feet.

‘D’you not hear me shouting?’ Harry addressed the man in the oily dungarees who surfaced out of the gloom.

‘Sorry, boss. I was in the middle of something.’ The man who spoke was tall and thin with a slightly emaciated look about him. The ends of his lank brown hair clung to his neck and he blinked myopically as he looked up towards the stronger light in the corridor. He was not young and he was not old, in fact Harry had great difficulty trying to think what age he was for he could have been anything from his late twenties to late forties. He always meant to ask him, but only when the time was right and the time had never been right.

‘Okay,’ said Harry. He did not have any more time to waste because he should be going up into the store and he did not want to risk another ticking off. ‘Just wanted to check if you’d done anything about those scrabbling noises Ken reported hearing in the ventilation ducts on the top floor.’

Neil stared up at him from his position at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Yeah, I did that earlier this morning. There were some droppings, could have been mice, but more likely rats, so I set some traps. Better tell Ken and the others not to go poking in the vents. Those traps are strong.’

‘Rats?’ Harry couldn’t prevent his voice from rising. That was another of the reasons he did not like the lower basement, he could not stand vermin of any kind.

‘Sure, rats.’ Neil stretched his mouth into a grin, ‘you know, those wee furry things. The store’s full of them, they wouldn’t need me otherwise. Don’t worry though they won’t come out when the store’s full of customers, believe it or not they’re shy wee blighters.’

‘If you say so,’ Harry muttered. ‘Well, keep an eye on it then. We don’t want to be overrun.’

‘Sure will boss. Sure will.’

Harry closed the door to the lower basement and shuddered as he went up the corridor. He would be glad to get up into the hustle and bustle of the store even if he did have to face up to Nicole.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The restaurant at the rear of the food hall was functional, there to serve the busy shopper and housewife who daily examined the shelves for all the little luxuries that other grocers and food shops did not think profitable enough to keep. However, Julie encouraged the food hall buyer to invest in these non-profit making luxuries, for they were as much the loss leaders in the department store as cut prices were in other shops. Julie was a wise enough section head to understand that those who came to see what luxuries were on offer at reasonable prices would also wander through the rest of the store and be tempted to buy.

Julie’s first port of call in the morning was always the restaurant. Despite its functional appearance – formica-topped tables and modern-looking plastic chairs, which were more comfortable than they looked – it did a good trade, mainly because Betty and her staff were excellent cooks.

Julie had been sitting at one of the corner tables for ten minutes before Betty brought her coffee over. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I need that to get me going this morning.’ She took an appreciative sip of the hot liquid. There was no doubt about it, Betty made the best cup of coffee in Dundee. If anything could have kept Julie in Dundee after her task was completed it would have to be Betty’s coffee.

‘That smells good.’ Nicole slumped into the chair beside her.

Julie started. She hadn’t heard her coming and it was important that Nicole should continue to believe Julie was her friend. If she did not stay alert, Julie thought, there was always the danger she might say or do something to give herself away and reveal her true feelings. As it was she suppressed the upsurge of antagonism to smile warmly at the woman she despised.

Betty had suddenly found some urgent cleaning behind the servery and avoided looking at Nicole, but that did not prevent Nicole from shouting across the room. ‘Cup of coffee, if you don’t mind – and hurry because I’m desperate for it.’

Betty straightened up and made a noise in the back of her throat that was halfway between a humph and a grunt, but she poured the coffee and brought it to the table.

‘I could swear that woman doesn’t like me,’ Nicole grinned at Julie. ‘Not that I care. Nobody ever likes the boss, do they?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, it’s just the way Betty is. She likes to get on with the work and doesn’t like to be delayed.’ Julie looked over Nicole’s shoulder and caught sight of Betty’s glare of disbelief. If Nicole had not been sitting beside her she would have laughed, but she didn’t dare.

‘Well, I suppose it’s a good thing somebody likes working.’ Nicole stirred her coffee. ‘I’ve just come from a session with Harry. Now there’s one useless, lazy lump of a man if ever I saw one. Give me half a chance and I’ll get rid of him.’

‘Harry’s not that bad,’ Julie murmured. ‘It’s just that he’s afraid of you and it always puts him at a disadvantage.’

Nicole snorted. ‘You know your trouble, Julie? You’re too nice a person. You never speak ill of anybody.’

Julie ignored the comment and smiled down at her coffee. That’s rich, she thought, coming from the one person I would gladly see in Hell, so it’s just as well you can’t read my thoughts Nicole, or you would shrivel up and die.

She glanced over the rim of her cup. ‘You don’t look so good this morning. Is something wrong?’ Julie’s voice indicated nothing but concern.

‘Is it that obvious? God I’ll have to perk up before I meet with Patrick. I can’t let him see me under the weather.’

‘Hangover?’ The note of concern was still in Julie’s voice, but she hoped Nicole was suffering. ‘Maybe a hair of the dog might cure it. I’ve got a little something in my locker if you want it?’ Patrick would just love Nicole smelling of drink.

‘No, no. It’s not that. It’s just that I didn’t sleep well last night.’ Nicole lapsed into silence and both women sipped their coffee. ‘What with the wind and the prowler and all.’ Her voice had lost its usual confident tone and sounded strained.

‘Prowler?’ Julie couldn’t help feeling curious.

‘I thought I saw someone outside my window last night, but Scott says I just imagined it.’

‘And did you? Imagine it, that is?’

‘I don’t think so.’ A faraway look appeared in Nicole’s eyes. ‘It seemed real enough last night.’

‘What did he look like?’ Julie had trouble catching her breath. This was more than she had hoped for, a real live prowler whether or not it was in Nicole’s imagination. She could build on that. Use it to destroy her.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t see him.’

‘What d’you mean you didn’t see him? How did you know he was there if you didn’t see him?’ Julie almost stuttered in her excitement.

‘Well he was like a shadow. Only his shadow was deeper than all the others and it moved when it shouldn’t have.’ Nicole shuddered. ‘He was there. I know he was there, but Scott wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Mmh,’ Julie kept her voice calm. ‘Did Scott do anything about it? Apart from ridiculing you, that is.’

‘He went outside and looked, but he said there was nothing there and that I must have imagined it. He accused me of being paranoid.’ Nicole sounded breathless and panicky.

Better and better, thought Julie. ‘That’s interesting,’ she said.

‘What d’you mean, interesting?’ Nicole’s forehead creased into a frown as if she was having difficulty understanding.

‘Well,’ Julie said, ‘if you look at it logically it seems odd.’

‘You mean you think I’m paranoid too? Well thanks a lot.’ Nicole started to stand up.

Julie put a hand on her arm. ‘No, hear me out. It’s odd because you say you live in a house that’s secure and that your grounds are almost impregnable to intruders, and yet Scott saw nothing. Doesn’t that suggest something to you?’

Nicole relaxed back into her seat. ‘What d’you mean?’ she whispered.

‘Well,’ Julie was enjoying herself. ‘Someone must have let him into the grounds and if it wasn’t you who could it have been?’

‘Scott,’ Nicole breathed.

‘Snap. Take it a bit further. Scott went out to look and found nobody, yet you’re convinced there was someone there. So why did Scott not see him?’

‘Because he didn’t want to see him?’

‘You’ve got it, Nicole.’

‘But why would Scott do that?’ There was genuine puzzlement in Nicole’s voice.

‘Think about it, Nicole. Scott’s away from home a lot, isn’t he?’

Nicole nodded.

‘Maybe he’s got an interest somewhere on his travels.’ Julie watched the understanding creep over Nicole’s face. It had taken her a while to latch on to what Julie was suggesting, but she was getting there.

‘You don’t think? Oh, it’s not possible . . . Scott would never . . .’

‘Wouldn’t he? He’s a man isn’t he?’

Anger twisted Nicole’s face. ‘If that’s his game he needn’t think I’ll give him a divorce. I’ve invested too much in this marriage, I’m not going to give up now.’

‘Maybe that’s why you’ve got an intruder then.’ Julie sat back and waited for the penny to drop. It did not take long.

‘Well if he thinks he’s going to put a private detective on to me to catch me out, he’s got another think coming.’ She hesitated, as another thought seemed to strike her. ‘Or, if he’s out to frighten me because of some sick game he’s playing, that’s not going to work either.’ And with that, Nicole picked up her briefcase and handbag, and left the restaurant without a goodbye or a backward look, which was just as well or she would have seen Julie’s smile of satisfaction.

Stupid bitch, Julie thought, I hope that has given her plenty to think about. She turned back to her coffee and drained the last of it before going up to the servery and saying to Betty, ‘Well, I think I deserve another coffee after that session.’

‘Sure, Julie. I’ll get it for you.’ Betty turned and poured it. ‘What’s up her hump then?’ she said as she handed it over. ‘I’ve never seen her in such a state before.’

‘Nothing of any importance, Betty. I don’t think we need to bother about Nicole for just now.’