False Impression Page 5

  ‘I have.’ Grimly. ‘I need to talk to the police. Any chance of your getting hold of that inspector you’re friendly with. What’s his name? Durrell?’

  ‘I’ll do my best. There’s been a development this end, too. Orlando was lured to the car park with a similar text message.’ And at that moment, Bea nearly dropped the phone. ‘Hold on a mo! I’ve just thought … You still haven’t used your smartphone, have you? Can you bring it here? Do not, I repeat, not, try to use it.’

  ‘It’s been hacked?’

  ‘Worse. Can you bring it straight over?’

  ‘But …’

  She crashed the phone down and raced out of the kitchen and down the stairs. ‘Keith! Where’s Keith?’

  A babble of voices replied. Keith reared his tousled head from the desk at which he’d been working. ‘Want me?’

  ‘That smartphone, the one that caused all the trouble … tell me you haven’t touched it yet?’

  He held it up in his big, capable paw. ‘Right as rain now. She’s lost all the stuff on it, but that’s a small price to pay.’

  Bea clapped her hands to her face. ‘Of course. Right. You weren’t to know. Is there any possible way you could get back anything that was on it? A text message, in particular.’

  ‘Shouldn’t think so.’ He was appallingly cheerful about it. But then, he didn’t know he’d just destroyed Orlando’s alibi. He said, ‘The young girl said it was all right.’

  The young girl? He meant Dilys?

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Bea, feeling rather faint. There was something in the Bible about fools doing more damage than wicked men. If she could find the passage, she’d get Dilys to write it out by hand a hundred times. Not that that would do any good.

  She said, ‘Thank you, Keith. How much longer do you think it will be before we’re back online?’

  His brow furrowed with concentration. ‘Give or take, the rest of the day. It’s a fair whatsit, this one. Any chance of the young girl bringing me in a sandwich or two? She did offer.’

  ‘She’s busy at the moment. I’m sure she’ll remember in a little while.’

  Bea went into her office to sit down and think. Told herself to take some deep breaths. Drew the landline phone towards her and set about trying to contact DI Durrell, an old friend who appreciated her cooking and her keen wit. Or so he said. She was of the opinion that he thought more about his stomach than he ought, but she could rely on him to listen carefully and not jump to conclusions. He was climbing the career ladder slowly but surely, hampered – or assisted – by the fact that he was of mixed race. As he said, he got the best of both worlds but, despite laws to ban this and that, not everyone agreed. He was intelligent, appreciated graveyard humour and liked to drop in for a chat and some home cooking now and again. Even if he hadn’t been assigned to the murders in the car park, he could probably be lured to visit her with the promise of some food. He had a fondness, she remembered, for a juicy bacon, lettuce and tomato butty as a snack between meals …

  ‘Is that Detective Inspector Durrell? Bea Abbot here. Hi! Long time no see. Fancy an appetizer? Or a late lunch, tips on murders included.’

  ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘I’m always serious about food. And murder.’

  ‘Any murder in particular?’

  ‘Plural. Murders. Nice, fresh meat. Oh dear, what bad taste. Forget I said that.’

  Pause. ‘A man and a woman? Hitting the headlines?’

  ‘A current divorce case. A title. What more could the tabloids ask?’

  ‘Not my case.’

  ‘I guessed as much, but my informants – witnesses – want to talk to the right person. One of them, you’ve already met.’

  ‘Witnesses? Two of them? What is your connection?’

  ‘A friend. Leon Holland.’

  ‘What? You mean your friend Leon, of Holland Holdings? What has he got to do with the price of bread?’

  ‘Shall we say half past twelve for home-made soup, a BLT and some rather good ice cream? Coffee to follow.’

  ‘You do know it’s an offence to try to bribe a police officer?’

  ‘When you’ve heard their stories, you can call up the cavalry.’

  A long, long pause.

  Bea said, ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘No. I’m not. We have not had this conversation. They must ring in, say they’ve some information about the case. They must give their statements to the right man … no, wait; I think it’s a woman. I can’t make lunch, but I accept your invitation to supper. Seven o’clock, shall we say?’

  She caught on quickly. ‘Yes, of course. For supper. I suppose they’ll have given their statements and returned by then.’

  ‘Speaking hypothetically, yes. You believe in their innocence?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘I assume they have solicitors?’

  ‘I’ll see to that. If it’s supper, I might have to change the menu.’

  ‘Is my friend Maggie doing the cooking?’

  ‘She and her husband have moved out to their own place, nearer his work. I’ll see to it.’

  ‘I’ll bring some after-dinner mints, shall I?’

  FOUR

  Leon arrived as she put the phone down. Taking off his coat, he said, ‘Lucas sends his regards. I slept in his spare room last night. Woke up to find an imp sitting on my chest, demanding I read it a story.’

  Leon was on edge, a little too bright, his eyes everywhere. ‘I wasn’t sure what gender it was at first. I think it was female, though the story it wanted was all about trains. She knew it off by heart and corrected me if I missed a word.’

  Bea wondered if he regretted never having children of his own. His partner for many years had not wanted children, but now she was dead he didn’t seem to be looking for anyone who might help him to remedy the omission. He adored his little great-niece, currently on holiday in America with her great aunt … but was that enough?

  She set that thought aside for the moment. ‘I’ve news. My friendly detective inspector is not the one dealing with this case. He advises you to tell the police what you saw, and to do so straight away.’

  He pulled a face. ‘I didn’t see anything that would help.’

  ‘Did you work out what it was that caused you to turn tail yesterday?’

  A nod. ‘What was all that about my smartphone?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’ She’d heard Orlando coming down the stairs. He was dressed in his own clothes but looked nervous. Did he regret having promised not to bolt?

  Leon nodded to him. ‘Orlando.’ And sent an enquiring glance towards Bea.

  She nodded back. ‘Dilys let him in, and he stayed here overnight. He must go in to see the police as well. Relax: he’s your alibi.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ said Orlando, with a grimace. ‘I’ve just realized, would you believe it, that I’m now Lord Lethbury. I don’t think I’ll use the title, or sit in the House of Lords. Not my scene.’

  Bea tried to work it out. ‘So your father wasn’t just a life peer, and the title passes to you?’

  ‘That’s all I will be getting. There’s a socking great country house, cold as charity, run by a distant cousin who moved in when my mother died. She’s never liked me, and I’ve never liked her. She didn’t like my father, either. I don’t think she likes anyone, but she’s kept the house going after a fashion. I hope he’s left her something in his will, because she exists on her old-age pension and hasn’t anywhere else to live, but I doubt if he gave her a thought. He was a wealthy man. I suppose the lawyers will have a field day, fighting over his estate. I won’t be getting any of it. He told me he was leaving it all to the Tory party if I didn’t alter my way of life. Not that I want it. Any of it.’ He shuddered. ‘Somebody walked over my grave. I still can’t believe … I still keep seeing …’

  Bea sighed. ‘It’s lunchtime. You two won’t get a decent meal at the police station. You’ll most likely have to wait around for
hours till they can find time to take your statements. Let’s eat here before you report for business. Dilys has made us some soup.’

  She crossed her fingers, hoping Dilys had found the salt and not used too much of it. The girl was domesticated after a fashion, but at sea in someone else’s kitchen.

  Bea led the way into the kitchen, sniffed and relaxed. ‘Dilys, that smells delicious.’

  Dilys wiped moisture from her brow. ‘It’s a family favourite. Leek and potato with some parsnip added. I promised to take some down to Keith. He’s going to have to work through his lunch hour, poor thing.’

  Soup was poured, tasted, pronounced excellent. Plates were cleared. Dilys took soup and bread down to Keith, while Bea set about making some BLTs. The delicious scent of frying bacon filled the air, dragging Dilys up from the basement to fetch the next course for herself and Keith. Leon hardly touched his portions. His eyes switched from Orlando to Bea. Calculating this and that. Not saying why.

  For afters they had blackberry and apple tart, rescued from the freezer and warmed through in the microwave. Dilys didn’t appear for hers. Leon toyed with his.

  Coffee. Bea cleared everything away and said, ‘Right. Now we’re fed and watered, we’ll be better able to cope. My friendly policeman is not able to help us. Some woman has got the case. He says you’ve both got to volunteer statements about what you saw and did, and do it today. He reminded me it might be helpful for you to take a solicitor with you. I suggest that, before we contact a solicitor, we rehearse what you are going to say. Leave out anything irrelevant.’

  Leon gave her a long, hard look, then nodded. ‘You mean, don’t mention anything but the facts. Agreed. But I think I have to start with my near fatal accident. The Rolls was in for repair. On Sunday afternoon the courtesy car I was using refused to start. I had arranged to go up to Birmingham by train, stay the night, and be fresh for my first appointment early on Monday morning. I didn’t want to cancel, so I chose to walk from home to the station. I was nearly run over by a van that came out of nowhere.’

  Bea said, ‘I’ll play devil’s advocate. Who wants you dead?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m involved in some complicated financial transactions, but … I can’t see how anyone would gain if I were to be bumped off.’ And that sounded like the truth.

  ‘I expect you were imagining it,’ said Bea, although she didn’t think he was. ‘Carry on.’

  He fished his smartphone out of his pocket and put it on the table. ‘On the Monday, while I was still in Birmingham, I received a text message on my smartphone, supposedly from Mr Adamsson, rearranging my appointment to meet with him for the following day, Tuesday, at his home. Mr Adamsson is the chief accountant for my brother’s overseas corporation. I didn’t query it because we had already made arrangements to meet when I returned from Birmingham, although not at his home and not on that day.’

  Orlando was agitated. ‘What, what? I had a text, too. To meet my father at Adamsson’s house.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve been thinking, was it really my father who texted me to meet him? I’ve never known him text before. It didn’t occur to me then, but now I’m wondering … Could someone else have texted me but made it look as if it came from his phone?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking that, too,’ said Leon. ‘But if Adamsson didn’t text me to meet him, then who did?’ He stared into space.

  Bea glanced at her watch. Time was marching on. ‘I think you should leave all speculation to the police. Just say what you did. Leon, you got back from Birmingham, and …?’

  ‘I arrived back in London at midday and asked a black cab to take me out to Ealing, to Mr Adamsson’s house. On the way I had a second text from him to say the venue had been changed—’

  ‘Same here,’ said Orlando. ‘Except that the text was supposedly from my father, and I drove myself there.’

  ‘I was wary. Why had the venue been changed, and why to a swimming pool? It didn’t make sense. Mr Adamsson is not the cloak and dagger sort. And where were we supposed to have this all-important meeting? In the cafe at the swimming baths? Was I being lured somewhere so that another hit and run driver might finish me off? When we got there, I told the taxi driver to hold on for a few minutes. I walked along the parking bays. I kept close to the verge, listening for an oncoming car. I saw Adamsson’s car in the second bay. He’s a small man, but he has a weakness for large, expensive cars which he changes every year. It’s possibly his only weakness. His current car is a black SUV with a distinctive number plate. There was no one in it. I got out my phone, tried his mobile. No response. I felt something was wrong, so I hightailed it back to the cab.’

  Bea said, ‘Let’s get this absolutely clear. How far did you get into the car park?’

  ‘Two bays only.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Orlando. ‘I saw him coming and dived into the bushes. He stopped and stared, tried to phone someone, then turned round and went back to his cab.’

  ‘You were hiding in the bushes?’ Leon was incredulous. ‘Why?’

  ‘Playing hide and seek, what else! No, I was in shock. I’d just found my father, dead. And another woman whom I’d never set eyes on before. I wondered if there was a gang of muggers in the vicinity, targeting anyone who parked there that day. I thought I might be next. I realized I’d been lured to the spot under false pretences, and at first I thought you might be someone coming to finish me off.’

  ‘Just say what you did, Orlando,’ said Bea.

  Orlando heaved a sigh. ‘I arrived, parked in the first bay and walked along till I saw my beloved papa sitting in the Mercedes, waiting for me. Or at least, that’s what I thought till I tried to get his attention. I opened the car door, and touched his shoulder and he fell over, towards me. I nearly passed out from the shock.’

  Orlando had gone rather white about the mouth, but managed to continue. ‘I felt sick. So yes, Inspector Bea, I was lured there as well, and by the same methods. Texts on my phone. But unfortunately I can’t prove it, as a virus seems to have wiped everything out. Texts, everything.’

  Leon prodded his smartphone. ‘Bea, you warned me not to use this, and I haven’t. Can it really be true that someone has been sabotaging our phones?’

  Bea said, ‘What other explanation can there be? You’ve both received texts sending you to an unusual venue. Later, although he didn’t realize it at the time, Orlando’s phone was infected by a virus delivered via a seemingly ordinary email from a concern that he recognizes. He thought his phone needed a charge, so he asked Dilys to plug it into one of our computers this morning. She did, and infected our system. Our IT geek cleaned the virus off his phone but, in doing so, has removed all the texts and phone calls which took Orlando out to the car park. I’m thinking the virus was sent deliberately, to destroy the evidence which sent him there.’

  Leon looked grim. ‘And mine? You think that if I’d gone on using it, another message would have infected my phone and wiped out all the messages on it so that I couldn’t prove why I’d gone to the car park?’

  ‘Do you want to risk it? Take it to the police as it is.’

  He raised his hands in frustration. ‘They’ll ask me: who really sent those messages? And I don’t know.’

  Orlando held his head in his hands. ‘I thought it was my father at first. Now, I haven’t the foggiest.’

  Leon said, ‘Adamsson himself? I don’t think so.’

  ‘And the content seemed to be OK?’ asked Bea. ‘No mistake was made in the wording or the signature?’

  Both men shook their heads.

  Bea was frowning. ‘You’ll have to let the police have both smartphones. See what they can make of them. Did you see anything else of interest at the car park, Orlando?’

  Orlando had his fingers in his mouth. He took them out and slapped one hand with the other. ‘I really must not bite my nails. You mean, after I found my revered papa dead? I don’t think I’d have noticed if a little green man from Mars had dropped in for a chat. I wonder if I can get my doc
tor to give me a prescription for sleeping tablets over the phone?’

  ‘And you definitely didn’t recognize the woman in the other car?’

  He shook his head. ‘Ought I to have done?’

  Bea pointed at Leon. ‘You recognized her?’

  Leon, too, shook his head. ‘I didn’t get that far into the car park. I saw her picture in the papers this morning, but to the best of my knowledge I’ve never met her.’

  Bea’s frown deepened. ‘I think – I’m not sure – but I think we were on the same table at a charity drive a couple of weeks ago, the one at the Dorchester. Remember?’

  ‘Really? No, I don’t remember. I meet so many people.’

  ‘Have you worked out why you left the car park so abruptly?’

  ‘I’ve run through the scene in my mind over and over again. I spotted Adamsson’s car. I recognized his personalized number plate. There was no one sitting in it. I looked around. Couldn’t see him. Thought he might have gone into the swimming baths to visit the loo. Thought I’d wait for him. I used my phone to call his mobile, ask him where he was. No service. That was the last time I used my phone. I saw there were other messages on it, but none from him. Then something … Maybe I was subconsciously aware of being watched? I was uneasy. The back offside window of Adamsson’s car was starred. Perhaps a pebble had struck it? That’s all. If you say that’s nothing, then I’d agree with you.’

  ‘You think he’s gone missing?’

  ‘Once I got my pay as you go phones, I tried to contact him. I’ve tried everywhere I could think of. There’s still no service on his mobile. He lives with his father, but his father is not picking up. I tried his office. They say he’s gone on holiday. Most unlike him, especially since we’d previously arranged to meet again later this week … though not at the swimming baths.’

  Bea said, ‘You don’t think Adamsson’s gone missing of his own accord, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t. He’s an irritating little man in some ways. He only exists to make facts and figures jump around, but he’s straight as a die. The only time I’ve ever known him take time off before was when my brother gave him the sack and he lit out for France for ten days. But that was a misunderstanding, and he was reinstated immediately on his return.’