Peter Robinson - Cold Is The Grave

An hour later, Annie was wet and miserable and none the wiser. She had walked between each of the units on the estate, talked to managers and workers and discovered absolutely nothing. If anything dodgy had been going on at the Daleview Business Park, it had been kept a very close secret.

It was with a great sense of relief, then, that she approached the last but one listed business. Banks had called for a late-afternoon meeting to pool their findings, and after that Annie had visions of a long hot bath, some microwavable Marks and Sparks concoction, and an evening alone to do as much or as little as she wished.

The needlework center was warm and dry, smelling of scented candles, predominantly rose and lemon. It was the kind of place that seemed made of nooks and crannies, all filled with such essentials as pin boxes, thread, etuis, stitch-layers, needle threaders, working frames, stitch-count converters and a thousand other more esoteric items. Finished tapestries hung on the walls. More of a showroom than a shop, it had no counter, but there was a comfortable-looking three-piece suite where clients could sit and discuss their requirements.

A young woman came out of an office at the back, the same woman Bennett had splashed in his hasty getaway. Annie introduced herself and said that she had been visiting all the units clockwise from the SecuTec office.

The woman held out her hand. “My name’s Natalie,” she said. “Welcome to my empire, for what it’s worth. I can’t tell you anything, but I’ve just put the kettle on, if you want to stay out of the rain for a few moments.”

“Please,” said Annie. “I could murder a cuppa right now.” If accepting free cups of tea counted as corruption, there wouldn’t be a copper in the whole of England not up on charges.

“Won’t be a minute.” Natalie walked back into the office.

Annie was examining the needlecraft kits and wondered if they would be relaxing or frustrating to do. She had a sudden memory of her mother sitting cross-legged on the floor, her long hair all over the place, wearing one of her flowing velvety creations covered in beadwork and embroidery. She was working on a sampler of a local village scene. It was an odd image, as Annie had never thought of her mother doing needlecraft before, though she knew she made her own clothes, and they were always beautifully embroidered. She would have to phone and ask Ray, her father. Maybe some of the samplers were down at the commune near St. Ives, and she could take one as a memento. Her mother had died when she was only five. As Annie watched, in her imagination, her mother looked up and smiled at her. Annie felt suddenly sad when Natalie returned with the tea.

It must have shown.

“What is it?” Natalie asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, love.”

“Oh, nothing. Memories, that’s all.”

Natalie looked around her showroom as if trying to search for the offending object. Annie decided it was time to get on track. “Thanks for the tea,” she said, taking a sip. “I know you said you couldn’t tell me anything, but I suppose you’ve heard what happened to Mr. Courage?”

“Oh, yes. Word gets around here pretty quickly. After all, most of us have been here since the place opened, so we’re used to each other. Shall we sit down?” She gestured to the three-piece suite and Annie sat in the armchair. She felt so weary she wondered whether she would ever be able to get out of it again.

“Did you know him at all?” she asked.

“No. But I know he hadn’t been here very long.”

“Since September.”

“Was it? If you say so. Anyway, Mr. Bennett brought him around and introduced him to everyone just before he started, so we’d recognize him, know who to call if there were any problems, but other than that I never even saw him again. You see, I’m usually gone by five o’clock most days, except Thursday and Friday, when I stay open till seven. At least I will until after Christmas, then there’s not much point until the weather starts getting better. You’d be surprised how many tourists we get just dropping by in spring and summer, but most of my trade comes from regular customers. This is a very specialized business. They know what they want and they know I have it for them. They usually telephone first, of course. Oh, listen to me rattling on. But I did warn you I didn’t know anything.”

Annie smiled and sipped some more tea. “It’s all right,” she said. “Gives me a chance to warm up and drink my tea. So far everyone I’ve spoken to says there have been no incidents at the park, not even petty theft. Is that right?”

“Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but I’ve had a bit of shoplifting here once in a while. Nothing serious, you understand, but irritating, petty stuff. Thread, packets of needles, that sort of thing.”

“Kids?”

“I doubt it. We don’t get a lot of kids here. Needlecraft’s hardly the in thing with the younger generation these days.”

“I doubt that it ever was.”

“Still, it’s a living. Anyway, I suppose shoplifting’s the kind of thing you have to expect in a place like this, but as I said, it’s nothing serious.”

“There are some pretty organized gangs of shoplifters. Keep your eyes open. If it gets serious, let us know.”

Natalie nodded.

Annie shifted in her chair. “Much as I’d love to, I’m afraid I can’t sit here all day,” she said, with a quick glance through the window. It was still pouring down outside. She looked at the list Ian Bennett had given her and got to her feet. “One more to go.”

Natalie frowned. “Not if you went clockwise from the SecuTec office, there isn’t anyone else.”

Annie glanced at the list. “What do you mean? I’ve got something called PKF Computer Systems listed here, right next door to you.”

“The computer people? They’re gone.”

“When did they move out?”

“Over the weekend. I don’t suppose Mr. Bennett got around to updating the list yet.”

“How many people worked there?”

“Only two regulars, as far as I could tell. It’s one of the smaller units.”

“Do you know their names?”

“Sorry. I hardly saw them. They weren’t the most sociable types.”

“What about people coming and going?”

“Just delivery vans. The usual stuff.”

“Okay. Thank you very much for your time, Natalie. And for the tea.”

“My pleasure. It livens up a dull afternoon.”

Annie left the needlecraft center and walked to the next unit. If there had been a sign over the door, none hung there now. Instead of a plate-glass window, as on some of the showrooms, the old PKF unit had three smaller windows at the front. Annie peeped through one of them, and as far as she could make out the inside was empty, completely cleared out. That was all it took to trigger the little alarm bell in her cop-per’s mind. Charlie Courage, last seen alive by a neighbor on Sunday afternoon, apparently worked the four-to-midnight shift that evening and was found dead Tuesday nearly two hundred miles away. He had received five cash payments of two hundred quid each over the past month. And now this computer company had done a bunk over the weekend.

It certainly ought to be worth a quick look around their deserted premises, and by the time she had finished, Annie thought, Colin Finch would probably be in the SecuTec office. She should just have time to talk to him before heading back to the station for the meeting.

“Don’t think I want you acting like some sort of avenging angel,” Emily said. “You’ve already done your knight-in-shining-armor bit, thank you very much.”

“Why are you telling me all this, then?”

“Because you asked. And because I owe you an explanation. That’s all.”