Peter Turnbull - Deep Cover

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Mrs Maas was middle-aged, portly and with a ready smile, which, unlike the isolated receptionist’s, Vicary thought, was a genuine smile.

‘Mr Vicary is with the police.’

‘Oh. .’ Mrs Maas looked worried.

‘I will leave you,’ Perkins said to Vicary, ‘I have work to address. If anyone can help you, it’s Mrs Maas.’ And with that, in a brisk about-turn, he left the office, pulling the door shut behind him.

Mrs Maas indicated a vacant seat in her office. ‘He’s new,’ she explained. ‘He’s very efficient. He was headhunted and is anxious to prove the great and good made the right choice, bless him.’

‘So he told me.’

‘So. . police?’

‘Yes, Scotland Yard, Murder and Serious Crime Squad.’ Vicary read the room — neat, efficient, no natural light, very sweatshop-like.

‘Murder!’

‘Well, yes. . but as I said to Mr Perkins, ten years on, and so this is a bit of a long shot, in fact it’s one hell of a long shot, but they’ve paid off before. We are interested in finding out as much as we can about a lady who used to work here, a lady employee by the name of Halkier, Rosemary Halkier. . home address in Palmers Green.’

‘Ten years. .’ Mrs Maas relaxed. ‘You know there might be one or two still here who were here ten years ago; seems that you move on quickly or you work your way into the bricks.’ She swivelled on her chair and slowly tapped at her computer keyboard. ‘If we search for all current employees with more than ten years’ service, and there won’t be many. . and the not many is. . five. I count five names, all women, who do tend to stay longer than men.’

‘Oh?’

‘Flexible hours — they can work round school commitments and work on weekends, leaving hubby to watch the baby. Not a few say that working here keeps them sane, gives them the break they need from demanding children and demanding spouses, and we pay quite well for a call centre. The work is tedious but not demanding. Mr Perkins is keeping them well at it but it’s still easier than unskilled work, and it’s better than the dole. We pay basic plus commission. The harder you work, the more you earn, and we tell them, you don’t just work for yourself or your family, you work for the person next to you; if this company sinks the work could be relocated overseas.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Vicary replied drily. ‘Telephone directory enquiries is now located in the Philippines.’

‘Exactly.’ Mrs Maas raised her eyebrows. ‘And national rail enquiries are in India. So if the crew want to keep the jobs in the UK, they work for each other.’ She stood. ‘I’ll go and chat to the five names, see if any remember. Sorry, who are you enquiring about? My memory. .’

‘Oh, yes, Rosemary Halkier, lived with her parents in Palmers Green, had two children, short girl, just five foot tall with dark hair.’

‘Rosemary Halkier. . Rosemary Halkier.’ Mrs Maas left the office repeating the name to herself, trailing a heavy cloud of perfume behind her. She turned and pointed to a white coffee machine which stood on a table in the corner of her room. ‘Do help yourself to coffee.’ She smiled. ‘It doesn’t taste anything like coffee but it’s hot and fluid.’ She turned again and was gone.

‘No thanks,’ Vicary replied to an empty room.

Mrs Maas returned some five minutes later in the company of a woman in her forties, who seemed curious and also pleased for the break in her day that Vicary’s visit had caused. ‘This is Sandra Winthrop. Do take a seat, Sandra.’ Mrs Maas sat behind her desk, as Sandra Winthrop sat in a chair adjacent to Vicary. They smiled and nodded at each other.

Mrs Maas opened the discussion. ‘Well, it seems you have good fortune and also bad fortune, Mr Vicary. Mrs Winthrop here tells me that while she remembers Rosemary Halkier, perhaps the person you really need to talk to is on sick leave, so she is accessible but not at this location. I took the liberty of phoning her and she says she would be pleased to receive you, but you will have to visit her.’

‘Not a problem,’ Vicary replied, ‘but if she is unwell. .’

Mrs Mass smiled ‘Broken arm, so not unwell as such.’

‘Ah. . I see.’ Vicary turned to Mrs Winthrop. ‘You knew Rosemary Halkier?’

‘Yes.’ Sandra Winthrop was a warm-faced woman with short black hair. She wore a blue blouse and a long blue skirt.

‘Well?’

‘No, sir, not very well at all. The person whom you need to talk to more than I is Rachel Pontefract, as Mrs Maas has just indicated.’

‘The lady with the broken arm?’

‘Yes, she was Rachel Graff in those days but she knew Rosemary very well. They were very good friends. They were known as the “Rolls-Royce Crew”, double “R”, you see. . Rachel and Rosemary.’

‘Got you.’

‘I was a sort of hanger-on. The three of us went for a drink after work each Friday. We called it the “Friday Club”.’

‘Alright, I am particularly interested in her life outside her employment. Any male friend you know of?’

‘She was separated.’

‘Yes, I know that, but we believe she had a male friend.’

‘She did have a significant other, yes. He lived in the south.’

‘The south?’

‘South of the river. He wasn’t married and that attracted Rosemary because her husband wasn’t much of a provider. . but her enthusiasm seemed to wane.’

‘Really. .? That is interesting.’

‘So it appeared. Initially, she was very enthusiastic about this fella, but then she seemed preoccupied, as if good living came at an unexpected price, as if she was worried about what she had got herself into.’

‘Did she elaborate?’

‘Not to me, but she might have taken Rachel Pontefract into her confidence.’

‘We’ll find out, I dare say. Did she mention a name?’

‘Again, not to me, but her worry. . and it might have been fear she was experiencing. . it seemed genuine. It was about that time that she disappeared.’

‘Did you tell the police that?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No. I was never asked, none of us were, she was a missing person, so there was no investigation.’

‘Of course, we would only investigate missing children.’

‘Why the interest now, may we know?’ Mrs Maas glanced at Sandra Winthrop and then at Vicary.

‘Yes. . her body has been found. There has been a partial press release about a body found on Hampstead Heath.’

‘Oh. . I saw that.’

‘All London did.’ Mrs Maas sighed. ‘But she was unidentified.’

‘She has now been identified. Her next of kin have been informed and we will be making another press release in which we will name her and ask for information. If you could let me have Mrs Pontefract’s contact details?’

‘Of course,’ Mrs Maas replied with a shaking voice.

Frank Brunnie travelled to Kilburn police station. He entered by the main public entrance and went to the enquiry desk, where he showed his ID to the duty constable and asked for DC Meadows. Two minutes later he and Meadows were walking down the CID corridor towards the detective constable’s room. Upon entering the rectangular room, Brunnie noticed that it was crowded with desks, some occupied, others vacant, but all appeared to be in use. Meadows led Brunnie down to the far corner of the room and sat at a desk, and then pointed to the opposite desk. ‘Take that seat, please, that guy’s in Tenerife right now.’

‘That’s a coincidence.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, my detective sergeant is due back from there soon — tomorrow, possibly.’ Brunnie sank into the chair. ‘He says it makes sense to go to Tenerife at this time of the year.’

‘That I can readily go along with, Tenerife and the Med are too damned hot in the summer, but January and February, well, they’re pleasant months to go south of the fiftieth parallel. I learned the hard way — went to Crete in June once a few years ago, spent the days aching for the night to come, then you only had mosquitoes to deal with. . but the temperature became bearable. So, what brings New Scotland Yard to our little hole?’