Chapter 3

I slept late on Saturday morning, waking up with the knowledge that I had lived to see another day, and wondered how many more I would see if I stuffed up with this case.

Allan had lectured us on surveillance and things that you would teach to rookie spies. I knew he must have been in the service and wondered how he knew James Harding. Perhaps I would find out tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning.

Today, though, was my day for some vertical, rather than horizontal jogging. I dressed in running shorts, a sports bra, and a crop top. Socks and sneakers, hair in a ponytail and a headband and I was almost ready. I just needed a bumbag with the keys, cards, and my phone, and a water bottle from the fridge, and I was off for some exercise.

Along Frith Street is a park. It is called Soho Square because they couldn’t find anyone from Soho who was well known enough to call it anything else. It was vaguely square with a track that was about sixty metres to a side, so the circuit is about two hundred and some meters a lap. I usually did about five laps on a Saturday morning, jogging past all the sleeping forms from last nights’ revelry and making sure I didn’t step in any old vomit.

When I had finished, I went back towards Bateman Street. Sometimes, I would have a bite in Nando’s but today I went straight past it to Old Compton Street and Balan’s Number 34. Seeing that I wouldn’t be eating until late this evening, I ordered a Full English Breakfast and a cup of coffee. I can hear those health nuts telling me that I’ve just burnt off the calories that I’m about to put back on. I can’t help being perfectly proportioned. That’s what a lot of men have called me.

The meal was delicious, but I always feel guilty when I cut a bit off a Cumberland sausage. The one on my plate was nearly the same dimensions as the body part that I had experienced last night. It wouldn’t be a patch on what I may experience tonight if I get lucky. Allan, from what I remembered, was hung like a stallion, the longest one I’ve ever seen. He had been married twice when he last took me to bed, and I suppose that he had time enough to be married another couple of times since.

I was sure that I hadn’t been followed today, at least, not by Waters and Abbott. After my lunch, I walked back to the office and up to my flat, stopping and looking at reflections in shop windows at random. I spent the afternoon thinking about the case.

When I roused myself to get ready, I ran a bath with scented oils and luxuriated. I had a safety razor and worked on my pits and any stubble around the groin. With the dress I was going to wear, I needed to be as shaved as a babies bottom. When I was ready to dress, it didn’t take very long. A red G-string to match the dress, then the dress itself. There was no way a girl could wear a bra with it, so I was glad that I was keeping myself in shape. Just the red stilettos and a clutch was all that was needed to finish it off. I did have a coat and a shoulder bag with a bra, top, skirt, flats, and tights for Sunday, just in case.

I called an Uber, not Hassam this time. He took me to the restaurant and even opened the door to let me out after I had paid. I think he just wanted a good look to remember when he was home. I walked into the restaurant lobby and checked the shoulder bag and my coat. Allan came out and greeted me like the lover had had been, several times before. The intervening years had been good to him.

He took my hand and led me into the main room.

“The big party are old friends; some you may know from the force. If you want, I can put you on a table by yourself?”

“No, Allan. I would like to sit with the others. There are a few I remember. That one near the end, what’s his name, it’s slipped my mind?”

“That’s Barry Bishop. He didn’t last long as a copper, now has a small PI business like yourself. Does work for politicians, mainly research.”

“Can you set a place on the end, next to him, please. He and I have to meet.”

We spoke of times gone by, and our expectation for the near future as a place was set. Allan gave me a kiss as he wished me a pleasant meal, and I walked behind Mister Bishop and the waiter pulled the chair out for me to sit down.

“Good evening, Mister Bishop. Or should I say DI Abbott. Do you have other ID that says you are CS Churchman, or you could be CI Vicar. You at least had enough training to make the pretence believable to a Joe Public, but your mate Waters stood out like a fox in a henhouse.”

“Miss Fawcett! You have me at a disadvantage.”

“That’s the aim, Barry. What I want to know is why you and your mate have been following me and putting your nose in my business for the last few days. Don’t give me any client secrecy bullshit. I know that you were tasked by someone in the government, maybe a staffer from the Home Secretary.”

If I was him, I’d never play poker, as his face showed that I had hit the bull.

“I was asked to follow the Shadow Chancellor and then switch to any PI or police officer he spoke to, then report back.”

“Have you reported back?”

“Not yet, it is the weekend, you know. If anyone wanted to invade, I’d pick Saturday lunchtime as the window of opportunity.”

“Well, now you can report that the Shadow Chancellor asked a PI to look for missing gems, which she found after your operative missed. It wasn’t too difficult, when you follow the trail correctly, instead of playing silly buggers by pretending to be part of a force you’d never pass muster for.”

He had the wit to look bashful.

“I’m sorry, Miss Fawcett. You obviously have a similar background, seeing that you had the invitation tonight.”

“Yes, Allan and I go way back to my days at Hendon. I will be reporting to my client that I found the gems and the widow was very happy to see them. What will you be telling yours?”

“That he hired a PI to look for lost gems, of course. His task of looking into the man’s death is a dead end, as I’m sure you already know. The Yard has already closed the file and the inquest will conclude an accidental drowning caused by intoxication.”

“I’m sure it will. Allan tells me that you do research for government departments, that must be very tedious, even if it is on a level your man could work at?”

While we ate the delicious meal, he told me about the sort of things that he was asked to look at. I would go up the wall if I had to conduct background checks, title searches for compulsory acquisitions, keeping an eye on errant children of MPs. It was informative, as it told me that he was just a dogsbody who had been picked as being already on the books. I had wondered if he had been five, acting overtly to put the frighteners on me. I realised that he was just unused to actual sleuthing.

I spoke to others at the table, some that I had worked with, and a couple who had worked on me. My dress seemed to be very popular, especially the part where it was supported by my breasts. There was no further talk about the dead politician and I tried to remember all of the names and the positions that were offered as we chatted.

There were a couple who struck me as properly un-chatty. They were likely five or in specialist squads. One guy was obviously on an Armed Response Team, being the sort of build that had been a favourite of mine when I was younger and less choosy. As the evening drew to a close, and some said goodnight, Barry stood and put his hand on my shoulder.

“It’s been lovely speaking to you, Maxine. I just wish that we could have met in better circumstances. Here’s my card, should you want to give me a call. I know where you live.”

As I watched him walk out, I wondered about the man. Was he as stupid as he had owned up to be, or did he have a deeper side. In the end, it was just Allan and me, sipping wine as the staff cleared the table. He clinked my glass with his and smiled.

“Do you remember the last time I cooked for you, Maxie?”

“I do, indeed, Allan, dear. That was the time I had you for entrée and you had me for dessert.”

“And very tasty you were, my sweet. Do you want to talk about your problem now, or later?”

“I was asked to look into the death of your friend, James Harding, last week. He was murdered, you know.”

“I guessed that already. He was skating on thin ice but there was nothing I could tell him that could put a stop to his quest to discredit the Home Secretary. He’d been the Shadow for some time, but never fully appreciated the power that you can wield in the job. Poor James, Helen would be heartbroken.”

“I can tell you that she is getting over it, slowly, and is likely to go back to the manor and sell the place on Grosvenor Square. With the estate and the title, plus her beauty, I doubt that it will be long before she has new suitors at her door.”

“What did you do for her?”

“I was asked to look into his death, but to do that I needed to see if I could find what he had squirrelled away. In the course of doing that, Barry Bishop and his offsider took great delight in following me everywhere, with his mate pretending to be a staffer looking for any government papers that James had in his possession. In my searches at his London home and the Manor, I came across safes with cash and his mother’s gem collection. That was in a safe in London that his wife didn’t know existed. She was very grateful when I showed it to her. Also present, at the time, was Barry Bishop with the ID of a DI Abbott from the Yard.”

“Oh dear! Barry would have been mortified when you sat beside him tonight.”

“Actually, he was pretty good about it in the end. I hope he reports that I was just looking for the gems, as it looks like the murder will never be fully investigated.”

“Have you any idea who the murderer is?”

“Have you heard about the ‘Sect’?”

His face was serious.

“You had better be careful if they’re involved. It is, as far as I know, a secret club of politicians and other invitees, who play hard, on the quiet. I have heard of wild orgies and drunken parties that last for days when the House isn’t sitting.”

“You friend had a list of likely members; did you have anything to do with that?”

“I did jot a list for him to stay clear of, yes.”

“Did he ask about anything else?”

He looked me in the eye.

“He did ask about where he could find real estate details, yes. What have you found?”

“A bundle of news clippings on cases of missing girls, a sheaf of real estate short term leases that mainly relate to the times of the missing girls for one. And some photos taken with a spy camera of the HS humping a male staffer while being humped by one of the cabinet members.”

He sat back in his chair and his mouth was open. When he had gathered his wits, he was very serious.

“James had a lot more nerve than I gave him credit for. Where are these items, now?”

“Burnt to a crisp, they were far too hot to hang on to?”

“Well thought, Maxie. If the HS gets it into his head to make a proper search of your office, the less found, the better. You know, you would have been a great credit to the force, if you had just kept your knees together.”

“If I had kept my knees together, we wouldn’t be sitting here like this, with me wondering whether your red satin sheets are still as slippery as I remember them.”

“Come on, then. Let’s go and find out. I love the dress; it looks so good on you.”

“I look even better without it, and that just takes two buttons. If you can’t find them, I’ll help you.”

He told the maître ‘d to lock up when he left, and I reclaimed my shoulder bag before he took my hand and led me up to his quarters. In his bedroom he kissed me in his special way, some tongue but a lot of hands elsewhere. I could feel him against me and some of the old magic started to happen. I helped him undress and he found the two buttons easily. The satin sheets were as slippery as ever, and we took it slow and easy.

He was as big as I remembered, and I swear that I could feel it against my diaphragm when I took deep breaths. He took half an hour bringing me to the point of no return, before he shot his load, and we held each other close. We cuddled and slept, and he made good use of his morning glory when we woke up. I could tell that he was happy to have me around, once more.

In the mid-morning, we had a shower together and got dressed. I had the fresh things to put on and folded the evening dress and put it in the bag, along with the heels. They had done the job that they were bought for and would be a good addition to the wardrobe.

We went down to the restaurant where the early Sunday staff were getting the place ready for the Sunday lunch crowd. Allan gave a few orders and we sat at a table and talked while we waited for our breakfast.

“Maxie, dear one. If I didn’t know how much you like variation, I’d ask you to marry me.”

“No way! You’re too much of a man for one woman. How many have you worn out now?”

“Four, I think. I often wondered why they left me.”

“They left you to recuperate. You should let them have a month off, every two, so that they could recover. Now, what are we going to do about my problem? I noticed a couple of your friends, last night, who had the distinct air of spookage.”

“Leave that with me for a while. I know how to get in touch. I expect that you have copies of all the documents somewhere, probably a USB or Cloud account. If I find someone to help, they’ll get in touch and give you a couple of days to retrieve the package. They will give you a code word. Your pick.”

“Tell them it’s Condor. That’s a suitable bit of spook light reading. So, I just spin my wheels until then, and just make sure I stay alive.”

“That’s about it. You could go through the motions and check with the Yard to find out the state of play with the drowning. That would be the prudent thing to do next week. That way you can tell your client that his money was well spent. The opposition leaks like a sieve, so don’t tell him anything else. That way, both you and he have a chance of staying alive. Tell me, the list I jotted for James, did he add anything?”

“Quite a few ticks, including the HS, so I think that he had figured out several members. How long ago did you write it for him, it looked a bit scrappy.”

“It would have been almost a year, I think. It really was just a list of people he should stay clear of, not going off and playing at spy. He was always headstrong when he had a mission.”

We ate the breakfast, enough that I wouldn’t need anything until tonight. Then, I claimed my coat and he escorted me to the door, waving at a cab going by. When he held the door for me, he used his other arm to hold me while we kissed.

“Take care of yourself, Maxine love. I would hate to have to attend your funeral.”

On the way home, I thought about that. Did the old reprobate have feelings for me other than just for sex? The other thought that crossed my mind was why I went to bed so easily with nice men. It made me think of Lord Bertie. He may not have been as virile as the men I had experienced this weekend, but was a lot more comfortable to be with.

That afternoon I went jogging the Soho Square again, to burn off the calories I had ingested since my last run. Then, I sat in the office and wrote notes on the case so far for my client. Then did the books for the tax time, later in the year. I had the five thousand I could put as income, and then managed to write most of it off on wages and expenses.

When I locked the office and street door, I went to my flat and had a leisurely bath, then nuked an easy meal as I didn’t need much to eat. I watched a bit of mindless television and had an early night, to be ready for my work in the morning. It had been a wonderful weekend, without a weak end in sight.

On Monday morning, I had opened the street door and the office, and was browsing the internet for the PI business on the card that Barry had given me. Sure enough, he was there, listed as being highly professional and gave a list of testimonials, mainly from the government of the day. That was something I would never put online, as it told everyone who you had helped when they were in trouble. There, again, the government was always in trouble, so I suppose that his list was allowable.

As I idly looked at the list, I saw a name that wasn’t government, yet was on the list I had memorised. It was my client, but he hadn’t had a tick. Now, why did Allan warn James of his own cabinet member? We had taken on the job at face value, so I now used the computer to look up the history of Algernon Clifton-Crabbe.

I started, as I usually did, by looking up the birth certificate. There, I found that his father was Sir Thomas Clifton. He had been a firebrand in his day. He was reputed to have stood up to Maggie Thatcher over the Falklands, demanding that we just gave the damn Argies the islands and not to waste any money on a war. Looking at his entry in Wikipedia, I saw that he had not always been conservative. He had been a coal mine owner before the troubles, and a staunch supporter of the unions while they kept in their place.

It had been the miners’ strike that switched him. I suspected that his men coming out against the mine owners was enough to lose his support. He had stood in his constituency as an independent conservative and beat the government backed candidate. He was a back bencher under Heath, until Thatcher had contested the leadership and won.

He had been divorced from his first wife. I read between the lines and surmised that he hadn’t been very good to live with. His second wife, Alice Crabbe, was the mother of Algernon. She was a curate’s daughter and was never mentioned again after the marriage certificate. I gathered that both were still alive.

Algernon had the usual upbringing for a child of a Member of Parliament. He went to primary school and then on to a boarding school until he went to Eton. I doubt that he saw his father from the time he was eleven, unless it was on television. He did Accounting at Oxford, but didn’t get a high degree, enough I suppose to run a country should he get into power.

The odd thing was that he was at Oxford with several members of the current Cabinet. Most of the Shadow Cabinet having gone to Cambridge. I looked at the Oxford papers during the time he was there and found that he had been quite a naughty boy, along with the Home Secretary. There was a report of the two of them being brought up to a magistrate for indecent assault on a young girl from a local tearoom. The case was dismissed when the girl withdrew her complaint. That usually happens when someone steps in brandishing cash.

With all that in mind, I wondered if him coming to us was a double bluff. I couldn’t see him trying to blame his old friend, unless they had a falling out. He was quick to pay me whatever I charged, and that can be a sign that something isn’t right.

My mind wandered along odd paths, and I found that I thought that Algernon would be the one person who could easily get close to James. Maybe a Micky Finn in a cup of coffee, then letting the other goons in to finish the job. So far, there wasn’t anything to link the HS with the murder, just his allegation.

If friend Algy was in cahoots with the HS, he would have had both the motive and the opportunity. I had the Who, I had the What (booze and a pool), I had the Where, and I could guess the Why. I wondered if James had finally twigged that his friend and colleague was as bad as the rest of them and confronted him at the manor. It would be interesting to read the forensics report, to see if there was any signs of a blow, prior to the drowning. One that couldn’t be fobbed off as being caused by him falling in.

I rang the number for the manor and asked Jackson if he had been in the house when the master had died. He told me that he had asked for a couple of days off, as he needed to come to London to have an overnight sleep test, as his doctor had diagnosed sleep apnoea. He had discovered the master the next day when he had returned.

I decided to follow Allan’s advice. I called the Yard and asked to speak to the murder squad, then asked to speak to the Chief Inspector in charge of the case. When I got through, I explained who I was and asked if I could have an appointment to speak to them about the death of the Shadow Home Secretary, on behalf of my client, the Shadow Chancellor, to make sure that the death was a genuine accident, not suicide or even murder, as my client had his doubts.

It helped that I had worked with this particular CI, when he was just a sergeant, and I was a new policewoman. He remembered me, and he told me it was fondly, as it had been our assignation on the back seat of the stake-out car that brought him to the attention of the misogynous upper ranks. He even told me that he was looking forward to seeing me again.

Marianne Gregory © 2024