Waterloo Sunset: A Lake District Mystery #4 (Lake District Mysteries) Read online

  ‘So what’s with this Midsummer’s Eve malarkey? Are the Ides of March too classical for you?’

  ‘Jim should have kept his mouth shut.’

  ‘We’re concerned for you.’ She grinned. ‘I mean, nemesis isn’t far off. When is Midsummer’s Eve, the summer solstice?’

  ‘Saturday. Strictly speaking, the summer solstice is Thursday, the longest day of the year. The difference is down to Pope Gregory, fiddling about with the calendar.’

  ‘Your command of trivia never ceases to impress. Remind me to pick you for my team next time we enter a pub quiz.’

  ‘If only I knew as much about the law, eh?’

  ‘You said it, Harry. So who do you think is after your blood?’

  ‘According to Jim, there are dozens of suspects. Possibly hundreds.’

  ‘You will tread on people’s toes,’ she scolded, pointing at the leaflet on his desk. ‘Risk management? You’ve never been too hot at that, have you?’

  He didn’t want to talk about Tom Gunter. He’d promised Kay he’d say nothing and he had an old-fashioned attachment to keeping his word.

  ‘Jim reckons someone’s taking the piss.’

  ‘Always a temptation, I’m afraid, Harry. Not to worry, if someone meant to bump you off, they wouldn’t give you such a precise warning.’

  ‘Thanks for the reassurance.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. Any chance of a coffee?’ She stretched like a pampered Persian cat as he rang Grace for drinks. ‘What else is new, or are you exclusively focused on staying alive until next week?’

  ‘I’ve discovered our cleaning lady was best mates with the late Lee Welch.’

  She rocked so hard with laughter that he feared her blouse buttons might pop. ‘You can’t help yourself, can you? Where there’s a murder, you’re never far behind.’

  ‘A gift,’ he said modestly.

  ‘A curse, more like. And you wonder why you ruffle feathers? Even if you make it past Midsummer’s Eve, don’t bank on cashing in your pension.’

  ‘All I’ve done is talk to the girl over a drink.’

  ‘Attractive, is she?’

  ‘She’s half my age.’

  ‘Who cares? I’m a lot younger than Jim.’

  ‘She was crying. I felt sorry for her.’

  Carmel shook her head. ‘The amazing thing is, I believe you. You’re too innocent for this world, Harry.’

  ‘I’m a hard-bitten lawyer.’

  ‘The only thing hard-bitten about you is your fingernails. Don’t scowl, it’s a sort of compliment. You know I wouldn’t change you for the world. So you took pity on this young cleaner without an ulterior motive darkening your pure heart? What did she murmur into your ear as she wept on your shoulder?’

  Putting his feet up on the desk, he recounted Gina’s story about meeting Lee in London before returning north. Carmel sat back and kept quiet; on the rare occasions she stopped talking, she was a good listener.

  ‘Gina doesn’t know Denise Onuoha. At least not under that name. I’m assuming the same person killed Denise and Lee Welch?’

  Carmel’s eyes narrowed in a parody of suspicion. ‘You wouldn’t try to pump me for privileged information? Given that I chew the fat with senior police officers every day of my working life?’

  ‘Perish the thought.’

  ‘Harry Devlin, you’re a lying toad. So you’d take advantage of our friendship to satisfy your curiosity?’

  ‘You know I’m the soul of discretion.’ Harry picked up the Law Society circular and idly fashioned it into a paper dart. Did such flagrant disrespect constitute professional misconduct? ‘Reading between the lines in the Press, the police believe the crimes are linked. We’re talking about a signature killer?’

  ‘How much does your cleaner know about Lee’s murder?’

  ‘More than she’s told me, I’d guess. Lee may have been her mate, but I’m not sure how much she really liked her.’

  ‘Maybe she disapproved of Lee’s lifestyle.’

  ‘On the game?’

  ‘Did the friend say so?’

  ‘No, but Lee was a wannabe actress, short of money, not too scrupulous. It doesn’t take an Einstein.’

  Carmel sighed. ‘All right. Lee worked as an escort. So did Denise.’

  ‘And the murders reveal the same m.o.?’

  ‘My lips are sealed. Don’t look like that, there’s a first time for everything. I’m not even supposed to know myself.’

  ‘But you overhear stuff at the water cooler?’

  ‘They keep the details tight. The last thing the powers-that-be want is copycat attacks on working girls. Sorry, Harry, much as I love you, I’ll keep my mouth shut for once.’

  Lips sealed. Mouth shut. A fuzzy image of Barney Eagleson, the mobile embalmer, drifted into his mind. He saw again the knowing wink, heard that fluting voice: Once an embalmer gets a reputation for…a loose tongue, he’s finished.

  People gave things away, it was human nature. He couldn’t resist a long shot.

  ‘Does he cut out their tongues?’

  She flinched, as if he’d flourished a pair of secateurs in front of her eyes, and he knew he’d struck lucky.

  ‘Does your cleaning lady know, did she tell you?’

  ‘Just a wild guess.’ He grinned. ‘Or ingenious deduction. Take your pick.’

  ‘Harry, you never cease to amaze me.’

  ‘If I’ve figured out his signature, there’s no point in your being mysterious for the sake of it. How were the girls killed?’

  She sighed. ‘All right, he strangled them. Manually, he didn’t use a ligature. Which might suggest it was a crime of impulse.’

  ‘Forensic clues?’

  ‘Nothing worthwhile in Denise’s case. With Lee, it’s too early to say. As far as we know, neither of them was raped. Maybe he can’t get it up, God knows. One more pathetic man, taking his inadequacies out on defenceless women.’

  ‘I suppose he keeps the tongues as souvenirs? Isn’t that how serial killers amuse themselves?’

  ‘No, he dumps them near the scene.’ Carmel pulled a face. ‘Miserable piece of shit that he is.’

  ‘So why does he do it?’

  ‘Search me, I’m not a psychiatrist.’

  ‘Presumably the girls were murdered by a client?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as the Senior Investigating Officer’s.’ She shook her head. ‘By the way, I don’t think you mentioned your cleaning lady’s name?’

  ‘Told you I was discreet. She doesn’t want to talk to the police.’

  ‘Charm her into changing her mind, will you? But if you have qualms of conscience, I can ask Sylvia. She knows everything.’

  Something in Carmel’s tone puzzled him.

  ‘I thought you liked Sylvia.’

  ‘I do, very much. But she doesn’t approve of me.’

  ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘It’s true. Not since I moved in with Jim.’

  ‘She’s thrilled that he’s found someone to take care of him.’

  ‘Not sure I do that, really. But you’re missing the point. She had her eyes on him herself.’

  His mouth opened, though for a moment no sound came.

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘Never said a truer word.’

  ‘But she’s married.’

  ‘Oh, Harry…’

  He stared. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

  ‘Would I lie to you?’

  ‘If it suited you.’

  ‘All right. But this is gospel, take it from me. Sylvia’s husband has been going through a mid-life crisis for years. He keeps embarrassing himself over trollops who make him feel he’s twenty again. Sylvia would dump him like a shot if she had a better offer.’ She gave him a foxy grin. ‘Don’t panic, she sees you as too much of a challenge. As for Jim, typical man, can’t see beyond the end of his nose. He hasn’t the faintest idea she’s lusted after him for years. And I mean to keep it that way, all right?’

  He shook his head i
n wonder. ‘Did you manage to fit in any work when we employed you, or was all your time taken up with salacious gossip?’

  ‘I’m a people person. I love trying to understand what makes them tick.’

  The door swung open and Grace arrived with the coffee. She was wearing a navy blue smock with a deep V-neck that, when she bent to pour, left nothing to the imagination. Carmel chatted with her as though to a long lost friend, reminiscing about her days as a junior lawyer skivvying for Jim and Harry. Grace smiled, but said little. The moment she left the room, Carmel turned to Harry and chuckled.

  ‘So that’s Amazing Grace?’

  ‘Jim’s prejudiced, don’t listen to what he says about her. She isn’t his type.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ Carmel smiled. ‘Is she your type, by any chance?’

  He frowned. ‘Are you joking?’

  ‘She’s not bad-looking, in a fey sort of way. Nice pair of tits and she didn’t miss the chance to remind you of their existence, I noticed. Does that happen a lot?’

  ‘Once or twice,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s summer. Nobody wants to be over-dressed.’

  ‘You ought to introduce a cleavage display policy. I favour a cover-up—recruit more hard-working Muslim women in burqas and you’ll beat your diversity targets for good measure. I don’t want Jim’s attention to wander when I can’t keep my eye on him. As for Amazing Grace, you could do worse.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m not interested.’

  ‘Perhaps you ought to be,’ she murmured. ‘It’s a long time since you had someone special.’

  He shrugged. ‘I get by.’

  ‘Getting by isn’t enough. Even your desk calendar says so.’ She pointed to the latest motto: Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved. For a couple of seconds she hesitated, as if about to skip along a tightrope. ‘Tell me, do you see anything of Juliet May these days?’

  ‘Juliet?’ He felt as though she’d doused him with a bucket of iced water. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come on, Harry. You had a bit of a thing going with her at one time, didn’t you?’

  ‘Do you know who she was married to?’

  ‘Casper May, yes. I always thought you were either brave or foolhardy. Probably both. I keep telling Jim, he needs to be choosier with his clients. And his landlords. There are cabinets overflowing with paperwork devoted to Casper May at Police Authority HQ. Never mind, I hear he and Juliet have divorced. So she’s footloose and fancy-free.’

  He didn’t like deceiving Carmel. But sometimes a lie felt safer than the truth.

  ‘You’ve got the wrong idea about Juliet and me.’

  Her smile spoke louder than words. ‘Calm down, Jim doesn’t have a clue. Men never do. Me, I saw it on your face the first time I saw you and Juliet together in the office.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘She was discussing marketplace perceptions and you were hanging on to her every word. Utterly out of character, it was obvious you were besotted.’

  He’d spent a career advising clients not to admit guilt and he wasn’t about to make a confession. Better not protest too much. He’d take refuge in evasion.

  ‘Carmel Sutcliffe, you’ve got a dirty mind.’

  She waved this away. ‘I’m not blaming you, Harry. She’s a classy lady, whatever I might think about the company she keeps. But on this subject, I promise, my mouth is zipped.’

  Harry groaned inwardly. ‘I’m not debating it with you. As for Casper May, he’s supposed to have turned over a new leaf. According to The Daily Post, he’s a candidate for Northern Entrepreneur of the Year.’

  ‘Here’s a bit of insider information. Don’t bet your life savings on Casper winning the prize. I wouldn’t fancy his chances of stepping up to the podium once the news gets out.’

  ‘What news?’

  ‘Denise and Lee worked for Cultural Companions. Upmarket name for an escort agency, don’t you think? And guess who owns fifty per cent of the business?’

  Harry’s stomach churned. ‘Casper May?’

  ‘Spot on.’

  ‘Casper thinks culture is something that grows on damp walls.’

  ‘So what? I doubt many of the girls discuss Shakespeare with their clients. Casper doesn’t have a hands-on management role, if you’ll pardon the expression. But he has a half-share in another joint venture you’ve come across.’

  ‘Namely?’

  ‘Culture City Cleaners.’

  He groaned. ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘Seems like he and his partner are cornering the market in female-dominated work sectors. A lot of girls they employ are from countries in Eastern Europe. Cheap labour, very profitable. There’s even a rumour that the cleaning company is a recruiting ground for Cultural Companions. You earn a lot more as an escort for a night than as Mrs. Mop for a month. Especially if you’re willing to offer a few extras as well as the pleasure of your company and conversation.’

  ‘I suppose that management keeps a safe distance from any suggestion that they are hiring out call girls?’

  ‘You bet. Merely to hint at impropriety would have Casper calling in m’learned friends. The operation is carefully set up, the girls are given strict instructions not to enter into any private arrangements with the clients. They have policies and procedures coming out of their backsides. Health and safety, rest breaks. Dignity at work, even. What that means for an escort girl, I shudder to think.’

  ‘Is Casper a suspect?’

  ‘He’s been interviewed in connection with the deaths of Denise and Lee, of course. I gather he was concerned but co-operative. PR-speak for privately furious, but too smart to show it. He even offered to put up a reward to find the culprit.’

  ‘Maybe the girls angered him. Wouldn’t do what he wanted, made him lose his temper.’

  ‘The way I hear it, people who get on his wrong side simply vanish off the face of the earth.’

  ‘Does he have an alibi for the murders?’

  ‘Watertight. So does his business partner. Though frankly, there’s no reason to believe that either of them would murder the girls. You don’t make fat profits by killing your own staff. Casper agreed to let the team sift through details of the agency’s client base, with particular reference to people who had hired the services of Denise and Lee. It’s left us with plenty of people to interview. There are a lot of lonely men out there.’

  ‘Who is Casper’s business partner, then?’

  He thought she was bound to say it was Juliet. Despite the divorce, she and her ex were still bound together by something that meant more than love. Money, money, money.

  ‘It’s not who you might think.’ Carmel gave him an encouraging smile. ‘He’s in partnership with another dodgy capitalist of culture city. Name of Malachy Needham. Small world, eh?’

  Liverpool wasn’t a city in the same mould as Manchester or Birmingham, Bristol or Leeds. Its communities were small and closely-knit, and Harry knew the old saying was true; Liverpool was the largest village in Britain. So many relationships intertwined.

  ‘You know I have a client who accused Needham of murdering his mother? She was a resident at a care home Needham runs.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard the story from a mate in the CPS.’ Carmel’s network was formidable. ‘Apparently they were thrilled that he might have poisoned this old dear. He’s not popular, isn’t Malachy Needham. Then it turned out she’d drunk so much gin, the toxicology was messed up and Needham was squeaky clean. The CPS clung on to the file a couple of months longer than necessary, just to make him sweat. But there was no doubt. He didn’t kill the old woman.’

  ‘At the inquest yesterday, Ceri Hussain recorded a verdict of death by natural causes.’

  ‘And she’s never wrong, isn’t our Ceri.’

  The sardonic note surprised him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, take no notice. I shouldn’t be such a mean bitch.’ Carmel fiddled with her bracelet. ‘Truth is, she used to make me feel inadequate whenever I bumped into her at Legal Group meeting
s.’

  ‘I thought it was flabby corporate lawyers who turned you off?’

  ‘It’s easy to feel superior to people whose sad lives revolve around banking deals and mezzanine finance. Ceri’s different, she’s no expense account zombie and I bet she doesn’t play golf. You know, I thought she had it all. Successful and glamorous, quite frankly, I’d hate her if she wasn’t always so nice. But her husband’s death changed things. I found myself pitying her. She devoted herself to her job, body and soul, and forgot to take care of what mattered most.’

  ‘She wasn’t to blame for his suicide,’ he snapped. Much as he loved Carmel, once in a while, her confident certainties grated.

  ‘How can you know?’

  He glared at her. ‘Ricky Hussain was a salesman. Not a very good one, by all accounts. His business was going down the plughole, I heard he was due to meet his bankers the day after he killed himself.’

  ‘Spent too much of his time chasing women instead of working, is my guess. Ever meet him?’

  He shook his head. ‘You?’

  ‘Ceri brought him along to a Legal Group social event. Good-looking bloke, but he obviously fancied himself. By the time she introduced us, he’d already had a few drinks. Five minutes after she wandered off to chat to the President, Ricky was stroking my bum and asking for my phone number.’

  ‘Did you give it to him?’

  ‘I trod on his foot and disappeared to the loo, actually. When I got back, he was making a fool of himself with the social secretary from Liverpool Lesbian Lawyers. There was something desperate about the way he pawed at her. If you ask me, Ceri didn’t pay him enough attention.’

  ‘You can’t blame his wife because he was a Lothario. Or because he couldn’t face carrying on.’

  ‘She’s a workaholic, famous for it. Imagine, she trained as a medic and then started all over again to become a lawyer. Someone so ruthlessly driven must be bloody difficult to live with. I mean, Jim works long hours, but he has a life as well. He’s a real person.’

  ‘Ceri is a real person. And I’ve not noticed a ruthless streak. She’s focused, that’s all.’

  Carmel sniggered. ‘Oh yeah? Jim tells me you have a soft spot for her.’

  ‘For Chrissake. Do people have nothing better to do than talk about my supposed love life?’