Adrian Magson - No Sleep for the Dead

Riley suddenly felt all her alarm bells ringing. ‘So you left before they did?’

‘Yeah. In fact, the others had gone by then, too, and it was time for me to go, so I asked Doug to lock up. He said he would, but he was just going downstairs with Mike to look at his car, so I left. It’s not like I’m paid to hang around here after hours just so they can entertain each other, is it?’

‘Right. Do the police know that they were here together?’

‘I suppose. I’ve no idea. I never said anything, if that’s what you mean. You don’t think…?’ Her eyes widened again. ‘But it was only a car ding, that was all. I mean, even if he found out who did it and faced them, nobody gets that mad over a scrape, do they?’ By her expression, she clearly thought it was out of the question, but now the idea was firmly in her mind, she began to look concerned.

‘This guy Mike,’ said Riley, before the young woman panicked and threw a wobbly. ‘Which office does he work in?’

‘On the first floor. Azim-something or other. I never really noticed. I mean, I never use the stairs, so why would I? You don’t really think he could have done it, do you?’

Riley shook her head. ‘No, of course not. Why would he? It wasn’t him who damaged the car. Must have been someone else.’ Seconds later, she was walking towards the lift, her chest thumping with excitement.

When she got back to the car, Palmer was slumped in his seat, eyes closed.

‘Wakey, wakey, Boy Wonder,’ she said, slamming the door behind her, and stared at him until he showed some interest. He sat up and opened his eyes, then looked at her triumphant smile with a knowing expression.

‘You’ve been bonding with that receptionist, haven’t you?’ he said. ‘Go on, tell me what you found.’

‘Simple,’ said Riley. ‘Have you ever seen Michael drive a car?’

‘Nope.’

‘Minicabs, right? They arrive at the rear door. Every time.’

‘For both of them — Radnor and Michael.’ He stuck his thumbs under his collar and made like a barrister delivering a crushing argument. ‘Which leads me to suppose, yer ‘onour, that they either don’t drive, don’t choose to or don’t actually possess cars. Why?’

She related what the receptionist had told her about the prang in the car park, and Palmer sat up straighter, eyes alight with interest.

‘Odd,’ he muttered at last. ‘If he doesn’t drive, why should he be wandering around the car park? Unless he made up the prang. Clever, though: something so innocuous, nobody would give it a second thought. He must have gone up there the day after we saw them in the lift.’

‘Right,’ agreed Riley. ‘After speaking to Nobby, he’d have wanted to check out Gillivray’s company to see what we were doing in the building. All he needed was a reason to go up and see him.’

‘And it had to be something that would get Gillivray out of his office without being suspicious. He’d have been on permanent alert for raids by the Inland Revenue or the police, but prangs happen every day in car parks. Michael left it until nobody else was about so he could take his time. I guess he knew what he was going to do before he went up there. Shows he’s prepared to take risks, though. Either that or he’s a loose cannon.’ He drummed his fingers on his knee. ‘We need to have a chat with Charlie.’

‘We can’t forget Lottie,’ Riley said as she drove them south. It was a subject they had both avoided, but they couldn’t entirely ignore the possibility that the old woman might still have designs on them, ill-health or not. As they knew from experience, Lottie Grossman was resourceful under pressure, and possessed a long and vengeful memory.

‘Yeah, I know.’ Palmer stared through the window at a large truck trying to negotiate a narrow gap between two cars, with much wheezing of air brakes and millimetres to spare. ‘Having her around is like having a scorpion in the bottom of your bed.’

‘What do you think she can do? From what Szulu said, she sounds as if she’s in a bad way.’

‘Do you want to risk it? The biggest danger with her is, she could change tack. Szulu we’d recognise — but if she sent someone else… like this Ragga or his men, we’d never see it coming. We could ask Szulu. He’d know.’

‘True. But he might not want to tell us.’

‘He will if I threaten to poke him in the arm.’

Riley dug in her pocket and handed him the slip of paper with Lottie Grossman’s hotel number. ‘Or we could ring Lottie direct.’

Palmer dialled the number and waited while the receptionist checked her computer for Mrs Fraser. When she came back, the message was brief. ‘Sorry, sir. Mrs Fraser checked out without paying. Do you know of her whereabouts?’

Palmer hung up without answering. They had nothing else to do until they went to see Cecile Wachter tomorrow. He told Riley to head for Isleworth.

The house where Szulu lived looked quiet. At Palmer’s suggestion, they waited a few minutes, watching the area for familiar faces. There was no sign of the car Palmer had seen, but that didn’t mean Szulu was out.

When Palmer was satisfied they were unobserved, they got out and approached the front door. Riley pressed the button against 3A.

The response was instantaneous. A sash window above their heads slammed up and a voice shouted, ‘Yeah?’. Riley went to step back, but Palmer put his hand on her arm and shook his head. They would wait for him to come down.

Eventually, footsteps pounded down the stairs and the front door was flung open, Szulu already voicing his annoyance. ‘…the matter, you can’t hear me calling you?’ He stopped dead when he recognised Riley and Palmer. He looked drawn and tired, and was dressed in jeans and a cutaway T-shirt, revealing a bandage covering his upper left arm. Whoever had fixed it had done a neat job.

‘‘Hi. How’s the arm?’ said Palmer cheerfully. ‘Bet it smarts, doesn’t it? Don’t mind if we come in.’ He stepped forward, driving Szulu back inside until the driver was backed up against the stairway.

‘Hey — what do you want, man?’ Szulu protested, although without any real fight. ‘Fuck you hassling me for?’

‘So call the police.’ Palmer encouraged him to turn and go upstairs, and he obediently led them into a flat on the first floor. A sofa, two armchairs and several large cushions gave the impression of comfort, but the overall effect was spoiled by a scattering of clothes, CDs, empty beer bottles and fast-food cartons. A battered CD player dwarfed by a tall music rack was thumping a steady beat into the room, setting up a faint buzz from a half-empty glass containing a brownish liquid and some ice cubes on a nearby coffee table.

‘Should you be drinking on top of pills?’ Riley asked, flicking through his music rack. She didn’t recognise the names, but if the lurid covers were any guide, mood music it wasn’t.

‘Pills?’ He flicked his eyes towards Palmer, who was standing by the door, then looked back at Riley. ‘What are you — my mother?’

‘Don’t tell me the doctor who fixed your arm didn’t give you some pain killers.’

‘Yeah, of course.’ He shrugged as if it was no big deal, then walked over to the window and stared out, scanning the street. ‘So where’s the other guy? He waiting to come up here and shoot me in my other arm?’

‘Relax,’ said Riley. ‘He’s gone.’

Szulu grunted. ‘So what do you want?’

‘Where’s Lottie?’ Palmer leaned back against the door and yawned, seemingly bored.

‘How the hell would I know?’ Szulu picked up a slim remote and turned up the music a couple of levels, making the glass on the coffee table vibrate even more. Then he stood and stared in turn at them both, defiant.