Stephen Leather - Take Two

‘I really like that perfume,’ he said. ‘Chanel?’

‘Coco Mademoiselle,’ she said. ‘It’s been my favourite for a while.’

‘Well it’s my favourite now,’ said Richards. He grinned. ‘How corny did that sound?’

‘Fairly corny,’ she laughed. ‘But I’ll take compliments in any shape or form.’

They finished lunch and Carolyn walked Richards out to the car park. ‘Nice,’ she said when she saw his Porsche. ‘I like SUVs. I always feel so much safer in them.’

‘What do you drive?’ asked Richards.

‘Most of the time I’m driven, these days,’ she said. ‘But I have an Audi TT.’

‘Now that is a nice motor,’ he said.

‘It’s nippy,’ said Carolyn. ‘It’s not the car of my dreams, though.’

‘Yeah? What would you prefer?’

‘If I had the room, a Bentley,’ she said. ‘But my parking space is tight and the house doesn’t have a garage. Leaving a Bentley on the street would be asking for trouble.’

‘Yeah, there’s a lot of envy out there,’ said Richards. He smiled as he looked into her eyes, trying to work out whether she was testing him about the Bentley or if it had been a chance remark. ‘Red,’ he said.

‘Red?’

‘That’s the colour of your underwear.’ He blew her a kiss and got into his car. She was still laughing as he drove away.

Filming continued pretty much non-stop during the afternoon and it wasn’t until just after six that Carolyn was able to talk to Terry. He was in the props room, working on a set of files that Seb would be holding in a close-up later that week. ‘So what do you think?’ she asked, sitting on the edge of his desk.

‘He’s good enough to eat, isn’t he?’

Carolyn laughed. ‘Well that’s an image that will stay with me until my dying day,’ she said.

‘What’s more important is do you think it’s him? Was he the guy you saw at Nicholas Cohen’s house?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Carolyn. ‘Seriously. The first time I saw him I thought he was, but now I’m not so sure.’

‘You can’t remember?’ asked Terry, sitting back in his chair.

‘I’ve got a terrible memory for faces, Terry. I just have. I can’t remember what my mum looks like. I mean, I can, but all the memories I have are based on her photographs. That’s the face I see.’

‘What are you saying? The man in your memory doesn’t have a face?’

‘No, now he has Warwick’s face but I’m not sure if that’s because my memory is playing tricks on me or because I’m deliberately picturing him there.’ She shrugged. ‘That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?’

‘No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all. I understand what you’re saying. The police always say that eyewitness evidence is the most unreliable. No one has a perfect memory.’

‘It doesn’t feel like it’s him,’ she said. ‘But that might be because he’s such a nice guy.’

‘And handsome.’

‘And handsome,’ agreed Carolyn. She pushed herself off Terry’s desk and began pacing up and down.

‘Ted Bundy was handsome and he killed a hell of a lot of women,’ said Terry.

‘Warwick’s not a serial killer, he might have killed Nicholas Cohen but…’ She shrugged and didn’t finish the sentence. ‘I just don’t know, Terry.’

‘Why not just talk to the police?’

Carolyn stopped pacing and folded her arms. ‘And say what?’

‘Well for a start tell them you think you might have seen Richards smack an accountant over the head.’

‘And if I’m wrong?’

‘If you’re wrong then he can tell the cops where he was at the time and all’s right with the world.’

‘And then he sues me for libel.’

‘He won’t know it was you.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘You know the cops talk to the press every chance they get,’ she said. ‘It’s me, Terry. If I so much as go out without make-up on it’s at the top of the Mail’s website. And remember that time I put on a few pounds? The tabloids were all over me. So think what they’ll be like if they know I’m involved in a murder investigation.’ She went back to lean against his desk.

‘I think you’re worrying too much.’

‘Yeah, well, you work in a bloody office and no one knows who the hell you are. I’m in the public eye and trust me, if it gets out that I witnessed a murder it’ll be all over the papers.’

Terry flashed her a tight smile. ‘Darling, I know how famous you are. And that I’m just one of the unsung backroom boys.’

Carolyn laughed and patted him on the arm. ‘You know what I mean,’ she said. ‘Look, the network is planning to reorganize the show and they’ll use any excuse to push me out.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Terry.

‘I’m serious, Terry. The last thing I need right now is to be tied in with something like this. And it might all be about nothing. Warwick’s a lovely guy. Maybe he just looks like the guy I saw at Cohen’s house. I mean, how likely is it he’d want to have lunch with me if he thought I’d seen him commit a murder?’

‘Maybe he’s as crazy as you are,’ laughed Terry. ‘So what are you going to do now?’

‘I’ll give Max Dunbar a call. He can run a check on Warwick.’

‘I don’t like that guy.’

‘Max? He’s okay.’

‘He’s sleazy, Carolyn. And he keeps looking at your tits when he thinks you don’t know.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘I think you’ll find most heterosexual men do that, Terry.’

‘I’m serious. I’ve never really trusted him.’

‘He gets the job done,’ said Carolyn. ‘That stalker I had, I never heard from again after Max had a word with him. He’s got great police connections and he’s discreet.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Anyway, I’d best be going. Billy’s waiting for me out front.’

‘Just be careful,’ said Terry, kissing her on the cheek. ‘And if you feel like a sleepover, call me.’

Richards had just locked up his Porsche and was heading for the lift to take him up to his penthouse flat when a figure stepped out of the shadows. His hands bunched into fists but he relaxed when he saw it was Halpin. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ asked Richards. ‘You almost gave me a bloody heart attack.’

‘Sorry boss, I wanted to know how it went, that’s all.’

‘So why stalk me? Couldn’t you have phoned?’

Halpin moved closer to Richards and lowered his voice. ‘No, I couldn’t phone because if the cops are on to us they’ll be listening in. You know what Five-O are like. They’ll be all over us until they’re sure they’ve got a cast iron case.’

Richards nodded and took out a cigar. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He bit off the end and spat it away, then lit it.

‘So how did it go?’ asked Halpin.

Richards blew a cloud of smoke before answering. ‘I think we’re okay.’

‘You think? We need more than that, boss.’

Richards narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re starting to piss me off, you know that?’

Halpin put up his hands. ‘I’m sorry, but this matters, boss. If she can identify us we’re going away for a long time.’

‘She was as sweet as a nut,’ said Richards. ‘Chatted away about her job and her family, said she might come on out to the club. I didn’t pick up on anything.’

‘But she’s an actress. Maybe she was acting.’

‘Yeah, but why meet me, why have lunch with me?’ said Richards. ‘If she’d recognised me, why not just call the cops?’

‘Maybe she was wired.’

They reached the lift and Richards pressed the call button. ‘Wired?’

‘Maybe the cops fitted her with a wire. Maybe they were listening in.’

‘What, while I confessed to murder in the studio canteen? You’ve been watching too much TV.’