The Honeytrap: Part 4 (2 page)

Jess paced impatiently from one side of reception to the other. ‘If I hadn’t been reading

that bloody brochure, I might have noticed Keynes following Sylvie to the loos.’

‘You weren’t to know.’

‘I wasn’t paying attention. I should have kept an eye on him.’

‘Retrospect is a wonderful thing. Stop beating yourself up about it. There’s nothing you could have done.’

It was another fifteen minutes before Mac finally arrived, by which time Jess had almost worn out the carpet. The three of them gathered around Lorna’s desk and quickly went through the details again. They decided that there wasn’t any point in all of them going to the police and that Mac would head off to Cowan Road station while Harry and Jess went to Swiss Cottage to watch the flat until the police showed up.

‘Shall we take your car or mine?’ Jess asked after Mac had left.

‘You go on ahead. There’s something I’ve got to do first. It won’t take long. I’ll catch up with you.’

Jess frowned. ‘Are you kidding me? What’s more important than this?’

‘Twenty minutes,’ he said. And then before she could start debating the matter, he stood up, strode out of the office and took the stairs two at a time to the second-floor landing. Even as he opened the door to the flat, he sensed the void inside. His heart sank as he walked into the living room and saw the empty sofa. The discarded blanket lay in a heap on the floor.

‘Ellen?’

Nothing.

He made a fast tour of the bedrooms, bathroom and kitchen even though he knew she wasn’t there. It was only when he returned to the living room that he noticed the open drawers of the bureau. Ellen had been searching for something and he knew exactly what it was. His hand automatically reached for his pocket and the revolver. Well, that was one consolation; she might have run out on him but at least she was no longer armed.

Harry stood for a while in the middle of the room, frustration rolling through him. Then he went into the kitchen, took out the gun and carefully opened the cylinder. It was loaded with three bullets and he emptied them out on to the counter. He sniffed at the barrel but there was no discernible smell. There were no obvious traces of residue either. Not that either of these things proved anything. The revolver might have been used days ago and could have been cleaned since.

Harry found a pair of gloves, put them on and wiped the revolver clean of prints. Then he wrapped it in a freezer bag along with the bullets and dropped the bag into a supermarket carrier. There was an amnesty bin outside Cowan Road station. He’d drive down, meet Mac and drop the gun off at the same time. That way there would be no awkward questions about how the weapon had come into his possession.

He went downstairs and locked up the office before hurrying down towards the front door. He pulled it open and stepped out into the damp air. It was then that he saw the two cops getting out of the squad car. He recognised them straightaway: the officers who had taken him in over the killing of Caroline Westwood. Now they were back and it was too late for him to try and avoid them.

Harry felt a tightening in his chest, a rush of panic. He was standing on the street with a gun in a bag. How the hell was he going to explain that? As the two men walked towards him, he felt the adrenalin kick in and had a sudden urge to make a run for it.

It hadn’t taken DI Valerie Middleton long to get the measure of Joshua Keynes; he was an arrogant, patronising man who believed he was above the law and that ‘helping the police with their enquiries’ was an affront to his dignity and a threat to his reputation. His attitude towards women was dubious too. She had noted the disapproving expression on his face when she’d announced that she’d be interviewing him.

Keynes, who had acquired the services of an expensive West End brief, folded his arms across his chest and scowled at her. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he hissed for the third time. ‘I’ll be making a complaint. You can be sure of it.’

Valerie gave him a thin smile. ‘Let’s return to Saturday night. We’ve established that you were at Wilder’s wine bar from about seven-thirty. At what time were you approached by Sylvie Durand?’

‘Who?’

‘Sylvie Durand.’

Keynes shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard of her.’

‘Let me try and refresh your memory: slim, blonde, French. Does that ring any bells?’

‘Oh,
her
. Well, if it’s the same girl, that wasn’t the name she was using. She told me she was called Christelle.’

Valerie, who had been asked by Mac not to reveal the honeytrap unless she had to, slipped a photograph across the table. ‘Is this her?’

Keynes gave a nod.

‘If you could say it out loud for the tape,’ Valerie prompted.

‘Yes, that’s her.’

‘Thank you. And you fell into conversation at about what time?’

Keynes heaved out a sigh. ‘How would I know? Eight, quarter-past maybe? I’m not sure. I don’t remember.’

Valerie took the photograph back and gazed at it before glancing up at Keynes. ‘She’s a very attractive woman, don’t you think?’

The solicitor, who was called Grant Matthews and was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Valerie earned in a month, immediately jumped in. ‘There’s no need to answer that, Joshua.’ He frowned at her. ‘Where exactly is this leading, Inspector?’

‘It was simply an observation.’

‘Well, I suspect it would be more useful – and save us all a vast amount of time – if you stuck to the point. My client is a busy man. We’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.’

Joshua Keynes smirked.

Valerie let him revel in his self-satisfaction for a moment before bursting his bubble. ‘Any detail can be important when someone goes missing. I’m sure you both appreciate that.’

Keynes’s face fell and twisted. ‘Missing? No one said anything about someone being missing.’ He turned to look at Matthews. ‘I was told I was going to be interviewed about an incident that took place at Wilder’s.’

DS Swann inclined his head and stared at the suspect. ‘And that’s exactly what we’re doing, Mr Keynes. We’re investigating an incident that led to the disappearance of Sylvie Durand.’

Suddenly Keynes didn’t look quite so cocksure. He seemed to deflate a little, a flush of red invading his cheeks. ‘What?’

Swann lifted his eyebrows. ‘So if there’s anything you’d like to share with us?’

‘What do you mean – disappearance?’

Valerie took over again, her voice brisk and business-like. ‘So getting back to the night in question. What time did you leave the bar?’

‘I don’t know. Eight-thirty, a quarter to nine? I’d already decided I wasn’t interested in the film and wasn’t going to invest. There was no point in hanging around.’

‘So you left?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alone?’

‘Yes.’

Valerie gave him a long hard look. ‘Are you sure about that, Mr Keynes? Maybe you’d like a moment to think about it.’

Keynes shifted in his seat. He ran his tongue over his drying lips. ‘I’m sure.’

Valerie flipped open a file, took out a plastic bag containing a mobile and slid it across the table. ‘Have you ever seen this phone before?’

Keynes gazed down at the basic Nokia and pulled a face. ‘It’s not mine. I’ve got an iPhone.’

‘That isn’t what I asked.’

‘No, I’ve never seen it before.’

‘What car were you driving on Saturday night?’

‘My girlfriend’s. I use it sometimes.’

Valerie consulted her notes again. ‘And that would be a white Toyota Yaris?’ She waited for him to say yes before reeling off the registration number. ‘Is that the car?’

‘Yes.’

Valerie left a short silence before dropping the bombshell. ‘Would you mind telling us why Sylvie Durand’s phone was found under the passenger seat?’

Keynes went white. ‘What?’

‘We’re just wondering how it happened to end up there. Your girlfriend claims to know nothing about it.’

‘You’ve talked to Sarah?’

Valerie gave a sigh. ‘Look, Mr Keynes, we know you left Wilder’s with Sylvie. You were seen leaving together.’

For a second Keynes looked as though he was going to continue to deny it; his gaze flicked towards the phone, made a quick tour of the room and then returned to Valerie. He hunched forward, putting his elbows on the table and rubbing at his face. ‘It’s not like … it wasn’t … God, I was just doing her a favour. I had nothing to do with her disappearance.’

‘Go on.’

Keynes took a deep breath and cleared his throat before continuing. ‘She asked me if I knew where she could pick up a cab. She seemed flustered, worried about something. I asked her what was wrong and she said that her ex-boyfriend had turned up and that he was trouble. She wanted to get away as quickly as she could. I felt sorry for her and so I offered her a lift. It was no big deal – I was going anyway. We agreed to meet by the toilets so he wouldn’t realise she was leaving.’

Valerie was watching him closely, noting every change in his facial expression, every nuance and tic. ‘So why deny it?’

‘Why do you think? I know what you lot are like. You’re looking for someone to pin the blame on. But I didn’t do anything. I swear. I didn’t lay a finger on her.’

Valerie ignored the outburst. ‘Which way did you leave?’

‘Through the fire exit. We went through the back yard.’

‘Where was your car parked?’

‘Outside a pub. It was just round the corner. I think it was called the Fox.’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘So you walked round to the Fox. What happened next?’

Keynes lifted his upper lip in the semblance of a snarl. ‘Nothing
happened
,’ he snapped. ‘I drove her to Chalk Farm and dropped her off at the Tube station.’

‘Why Chalk Farm?’

‘She said she had a friend there. She didn’t want to go home because she thought the ex might show up.’

‘And this friend – was it a boyfriend, girlfriend?’

‘She didn’t specify.’

‘And what did you talk about on the journey?’

Keynes glared at her. ‘I don’t remember – the usual chit-chat, nothing in particular.’

‘You didn’t ask if she’d like to go for a drink or something to eat?’

‘No.’

‘Really? Are you sure?’

The solicitor jumped in again. ‘My client said no, Inspector. Is there anything about that answer you don’t understand?’

‘I’m just trying to establish the facts, Mr Matthews.’

‘Then let’s stick to the facts, shall we?’

Valerie rolled her eyes – she’d met a thousand smart-ass solicitors before and knew all their ploys and tactics – before addressing Keynes again. ‘Did she make any phone calls while she was in the car?’

‘No.’

‘And after you’d dropped off Ms Durand, did you notice where she went next?’

‘Not really. She just started walking down the road, Adelaide Road.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What did you do next? Did you go straight home?’

That hesitation came again from Keynes, those quick glances around the room as his brain ticked over and he tried to figure out what lies he might be able to get away with. ‘No, I fancied a drive. I just drove around for a while.’

Valerie knew, from Mac’s statement, that he hadn’t got home until after midnight. Jessica Vaughan had seen him turn up in a cab. ‘A while?’

‘An hour or two.’

‘Where did you drive to?’

‘Just around. Hampstead, Highgate.’ Keynes attempted an ingratiating smile. ‘To be honest, Inspector, my girlfriend wasn’t in the best of moods so I thought it might be wise to stay out of her way for a while.’

‘And you didn’t stop off anywhere?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

Keynes gave an involuntary twitch of his mouth. ‘Absolutely.’

Valerie knew he was lying. Even without Mac’s evidence, she would have been able to tell from the man’s shifty expression and his defensive body language. He was tense and anxious and had started to sweat. A thin film of perspiration shone on his forehead. ‘So you didn’t go to Swiss Cottage, to a block of flats called Queen Elizabeth Court?’

Keynes briefly closed his eyes. ‘Where?’ he asked weakly.

‘It’s time to tell the truth,’ Valerie said. ‘Before my patience runs out.’

Keynes turned to his solicitor, his face full of panic. ‘I need to talk to you. In private. I need to talk to you now.’

Jess had been parked outside Queen Elizabeth Court for two hours and there was still no sign of Harry. She must have rung ten times but his phone was turned off and all her calls were being diverted straight to voicemail. ‘For Christ’s sake,’ she muttered, hearing the same message again. She jabbed at the button to disconnect the call and dropped the phone on to her lap. What was going on? What was he playing at? He’d promised to join her here, but hadn’t bothered to show up.

Jess had tried calling the office but there was no reply and as she didn’t have the private numbers for Mac or Lorna that wasn’t an option either. She had no idea how it had gone down at the station. Her gaze flicked up towards the windows of the flats again. Twenty minutes ago the lights had gone out in number 3, but they were still on in number 4. She was parked across the road in almost the same spot she’d been in this afternoon and no one had entered or left the block since she arrived.

With no sign of Harry or the police, Jess was tempted to cross the road and ring the bell. Someone had to do something. God alone knew what was going on inside. The thought of what might be happening to Sylvie made her feel frustrated and helpless. There was no doubt in her mind that the girl had been sending out a plea for help when she’d made that seemingly innocuous call to Lorna.

Jess sighed, yawned and glanced at her watch again. It was almost half past eleven. At this rate she could be here all night. She tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel, her fingers dancing with impatience. Harry’s absence was more than annoying; it was downright unforgivable. He’d let her down – and Sylvie too. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was off chasing after Ellen Shaw again. When would he ever learn? That woman only ever brought trouble to his doorstep.