The Devil in Disguise (12 page)

‘This magic show.' Her voice faltered slightly. ‘When will you be picking me up?'

Walking through the city streets in a daze, he found himself on the other side of the road from the magistrates' court. Davey Damnation was in full flow, haranguing a couple of hapless trainee solicitors.

‘And I will give unto every one of you according to your works!'

Harry had always had a soft spot for Davey. The man's sheer persistence, his determination to rant away come rain or shine seemed perversely admirable. But he knew nothing about him, neither where he lived nor where he came from. Nor whether he was capable of deeds to match his wild words. Harry stared at the scarecrow-like figure, trying to decide what - if anything - he should do when someone shouted his name. With a guilty start, he glanced over his shoulder, to see Matthew Cullinan hurrying down Dale Street towards him. He was accompanied by Inge Frontzeck.

‘Just the man! Sorry for bellowing, but you were obviously miles away.'

Harry mustered a smile. ‘Plenty to think about.'

‘Tough morning in court, eh? Never mind. Win a few, lose a few. You remember Inge, do you?'

She blushed. ‘How could he forget after our meeting at the Piquet Club?'

Harry surveyed her. She looked quite different when not dressed for work. Elegant make-up, expensive jewellery. Over her shoulder was slung a bag emblazoned with the logo of the city's most prestigious fashion store. She was hanging on to Matthew's arm as if afraid that if she let go she might never see him again. He felt a spasm of jealousy. If only Kim had been the proprietorial kind. But then she would have been a different woman and he would not have cared for her so much.

He indicated the bag. ‘Shopping trip?'

Matthew grinned. ‘Just as well we bumped into you. Another couple of hours and we'd both have been paupers.'

She brushed his cheek with a finger. ‘I don't remember you breaking into your capital this morning, Matt.'

‘You never gave me a chance. I'm surprised your plastic cards haven't melted after all their activity. You know what women are like, Harry.'

‘Er - yes,' Harry said, although experience had taught

him that he certainly didn't. But he was puzzling over a contradiction he sensed in Matthew Cullinan. Matthew liked to make a big thing out of his desire to shun the limelight, especially where his charitable works were concerned. But when you came to know him, his manner was hardly that of someone anxious to do good by stealth. Perhaps it was simply that Harry knew so few upper-class people of any description, let alone any who wished to do good by stealth.

‘Look,' Matthew said to Inge, ‘Since we've stocked up with enough food to feed an army, why don't we invite Harry here to dinner? Tomorrow evening, perhaps? Do come, if you don't have anything else on.'

‘It's very kind of you...' Harry hesitated. In other circumstances he would have been rifling through his collection of excuses for avoiding tedious social engagements. But he wanted to seize any chance to find out a little more about the Kavanaugh trustees.

‘You'll have to check with Mrs Devlin first, of course,' Inge said.

‘Well, no. My wife - she died three years ago.'

‘I'm sorry.' Inge paused. ‘Is there someone you'd like to invite along as well? A friend?'

Harry thought about Kim's reaction. A magic show at a Labour Club, fine. But a posh evening with people whom she would dislike on sight would certainly put the kiss of death on their relationship. If it wasn't dead already. ‘Actually, there isn't...'

‘Doesn't matter,' Matthew said heartily. He fished in his wallet for a business card and scribbled on the back of it. ‘This is where we live. Say eight o'clock?'

Harry cringed inwardly but managed to force a smile. ‘I'll look forward to it,' he said.

The couple waved and were gone. And when he glanced back across the street, Davey Damnation too had disappeared.

Stephanie Hall was waiting in reception when he arrived back at New Commodities House. On the way, he had resolved to put Davey out of his mind, telling himself it was crazy to think that the pavement preacher could be capable of murder. Stephanie's shoulders were hunched and although she had a magazine in her lap, she was ignoring it. Harry could sympathise with that: the dog-eared copies of
Which New Multimedia System?
that Jim had left lying around hardly made compelling reading.

‘This is a surprise,' he said. ‘I've left a couple of messages for Jonah on the answering machine but he hasn't got back to me. I wondered if something was wrong.'

‘There is,' she said, following him into his room. ‘He's in the Royal.'

Harry's stomach lurched. ‘What's happened?'

‘Heart attack,' she said thickly, pulling a tissue from the pocket of her coat. ‘Too many of those bloody cheap cigarettes. He complained of chest pains when we had a meal together at the weekend. Six hours later he was in intensive care.'

Harry swore. ‘How is he?'

‘Oh, he'll pull through. They put him back in a normal ward yesterday. The doctor says he's as tough as old boots.'

The relief made Harry grin. ‘I wouldn't have thought you needed a medical expert to tell you that. But I must visit him later on today. If he's up to it.'

‘He'd like that. Though he'd never admit as much. I went to see him this morning. For the first time, he'd started to complain. His pillow wasn't comfortable and the breakfast hadn't been up to much. He couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed a full-scale fry-up. I took that as a good sign.' Stephanie passed her tongue across her lips. ‘But things will have to change. He'll have to take things easy for a while.'

‘Better wear protective clothing when you break the news to him.'

For the first time, she smiled. ‘Oh, if anyone can handle him, I can.'

‘I bet you're right. The answering machine was quite a coup.'

‘Hard work, believe me.' She leaned forward. ‘But then, I'm not afraid of that. And now Jonah will be forced to trust me with assignments more demanding than serving writs and keeping tabs on errant husbands. Which brings me to Vera Blackhurst.'

‘What's the latest? The trustees would be thrilled if you discovered she'd just finished a five-stretch in Holloway Prison.'

‘I bet. At least I'm beginning to make progress through talking to people she met while she was working with Charles. There are one or two leads. She knows North Wales well, for example, and she once let slip that she lived in Colwyn Bay for a number of years. I'm planning to go over there on Saturday afternoon to find out precisely what she got up to there. I gather she may have grown up in Cheshire.'

‘I realise Jonah's illness will slow the inquiry down.'

‘Thanks, but I do want to be professional about this. The show must go on and all that. I'd hate to let any client down after I've only been in the business five minutes. Especially such a high-profile client as the Kavanaugh Trust.'

‘Don't worry. Besides, the trustees probably feel they are too high-profile for their own good at the moment. You heard about Luke Dessaur?'

She nodded and a smile began to spread against her face, though he guessed she was trying to suppress it.

‘What's up?'

‘You want the honest answer?'

‘Usually,' he said with a grin.

‘It's just that when Jonah mentioned Dessaur's death to me, he said, “Ten to one, Harry will start poking his nose in where it isn't wanted”.'

Her mimicry of her uncle's gruff tones was startlingly accurate and Harry laughed out loud. He was beginning to realise that it would be a mistake to underestimate this young woman.

‘He was right, as usual.' He hesitated. ‘And the fact is, the further I've poked my nose in, the more I've become convinced there is something to smell.'

‘Such as?'

Almost without realising it, he found himself relating the whole story. By the time he was finished, Stephanie's eyes were rounder and larger than ever. ‘So what do you intend to do?'

‘What can I do? The body has been buried, there's no forensic evidence to prove that Luke was murdered. Nor will there ever be.'

She frowned. ‘Surely you won't be content to let it go at that?'

‘Well,' he admitted. ‘I thought I might ask a few questions. Perhaps talk to the trustees away from the formality of the board meetings. See whether or not Ashley is barking up the wrong tree.'

‘That's more like it.' She smiled. ‘Jonah's told me about you. One thing he always says is this: you never give up. He once even described you as one of the stubbornest buggers he'd ever met. You should be flattered. It's the highest praise he can bestow.'

He laughed. ‘Look, I must sort out a few things here before I go to visit him. And one other thing.'

‘Yes?'

Forget Jim and his disapproval
, he thought. ‘If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to come over to Colwyn Bay with you at the weekend.'

She stared, unsure whether to be offended. ‘Thanks, but I really don't need a chaperon.'

‘I'm sure you don't,' he said hastily. ‘That wasn't what I meant at all. But I've always been fascinated by detectives - and I'm dying to find out the truth about Vera Blackhurst's past. I'd never have had the courage to ask Jonah if I could accompany him.'

She took her glasses off and gave him a smile which transformed her earnest face. ‘I can imagine what he would have said. Of course, I'd be glad of the company. And I can pick your brains about the law on the journey. For my exam.' She giggled at his bafflement. ‘I'm taking a course in private investigation.'

‘Jesus. What happened to the glamorous life of the gumshoe?'

She gave his scuffed Hush Puppies an appraising glance. ‘Same as happened to the wealthy lifestyle of the Liverpudlian lawyer, I expect.'

Chapter 10

The Labour Club's wizened doorkeeper looked as if he'd been around since the days of the Tolpuddle Martyrs and found little to smile about in the intervening years. He sat on a wobbly plastic chair behind a Formica-topped table. Behind his head, a huge orange poster with black lettering announced that
The Great Timothy
was appearing tonight. Even in this stronghold of socialism, there was a place for private enterprise: a placard on the table offered the cheapest tinned tobacco on Merseyside. But the doorman's demeanour reminded Harry of a picket outside the dock gates, constantly on the look-out for scabs trying to scuttle past. When Harry and Kim registered in the book for non-members, he pored over their signatures with thinly veiled suspicion.

Kim watched him with barely suppressed amusement and, when they had finally escaped his clutches, she linked her arm with Harry's and whispered, ‘He probably suspects you of being a spy from Conservative Central Office.'

He handed their coats to a girl on cloakroom duty. ‘Being in the company of the honourable Matthew Cullinan must have rubbed off on me. By the way, I've been asked to a select dinner party with Matthew and his lady love. They suggested I bring a guest, but I thought you...'

‘From what little you've told me of the honourable Matthew, I'd rather pass,' she said. ‘It's years since the one and only time I made the mistake of attending a dinner party for toffs. I had a brief relationship with a solicitor who worked in-house for one of the big printing companies. He was invited to his boss's mansion over on the Wirral and took me along. Our very first date, would you believe? God, it was an experience I'll never forget. Five hours of small-talk about private school fees and goings-on in the local Tory Association.'

‘End of a beautiful friendship?' he asked as the girl returned from her inner sanctum and handed him a receipt.

‘Not all that beautiful,' Kim said. ‘I'm afraid you'll be better off taking someone else.'

They entered the concert room. The stage was in darkness but the place was filling up and a crowd had already gathered at the bar. As Harry waited to be served, he glanced at the silent television in the corner. A handful of people were clustered around it, watching a boxing match on a satellite channel. He looked around. The walls were festooned with notices.
Do Not Walk On The Dance Floor When The Artiste Is Performing. Anyone Found Bringing Their Food Or Drink On To The Premises Will Be Ejected. No Swearing. No Dogs. Have You Paid Your Annual Subscription Yet
?

‘Takes me back to my schooldays,' Kim said when the drinks had been bought. ‘My father used to be the steward in a club exactly like this. I spent my formative years watching housewives playing bingo, throwing my pocket money away on the one-armed bandits, eavesdropping on the gossip about the latest scandal, the latest bit of in-fighting between committee members.'

Harry grinned. He'd found Jonah in characteristically crusty form that afternoon and it had lifted his spirits to see that the old curmudgeon was on the mend. ‘These places are all the same. My old man used to be the coach at a non-league football club. When I was a boy, he used to give me coins to keep me occupied on the jukebox whilst he chewed the fat with his cronies.'

‘So we have something in common, apart from the law?'

‘More than maybe either of us realise.'

Quickly, too quickly for Harry's liking, she returned to her original theme. ‘I remember that every now and then I would spot the Member of Parliament popping his head round the door once his constituency surgery was done for the week. He'd have a quick look to see if there was anyone he needed to be pleasant to. If not, he'd do a bunk faster than you could say “train to London paid for by the tax-payer”. Leaving the local barons to rule the roost. See the four men huddled over there? Members of the committee, bound to be. Conspiring against someone, I expect.'