Friday
Cleo and Gary’s reactions to Dorothy’s account of her talks
to Rita’s neighbours were predictable. Gary pointed out that if the witnesses
had seen something suspicious and had not already come forward, they were
unlikely to. Only one of the dwellers at house No 7 had been questioned so the
information was too scanty. Frank had indeed used a key to get into Rita’s salon
although he was supposed to have moved out. The only other useful information
was that Rita had received frequent visits from men.
“I hope not,” said Gary. “Using a hairdressing salon as a
brothel would be undesirable, to say the least, and illegal to boot.”
***
Cleo decided that her first task would be to talk to Rita,
especially about the key and the true reason that Frank had moved out. Before
that could happen, the police hacker would call in the office and dismount
anything Frank had built into the technical works and transfer all the data and
any relevant emails from Frank’s designated sphere to a directory created for
the purpose. That would not take long, he assured Cleo.
It didn’t, quite apart from the password being written on a
piece of tape and stuck on under Frank’s desk. That was a common practice,
apparently, surprising in someone who had enough criminal energy to stash away
a fortune in heroin at a harmless hairdressing salon. Frank had kept his agency
business open for Cleo to consult so she automatically had a copy of cases he
had been asked to investigate. His other business was under figurative lock and
key.
“I should have guessed,” said Cleo.
“It’s normal human behaviour,” said the hacker, adding that
there were inevitably private, undetectable pages on public computers if the
users knew what they were doing. The hacker guy was a slick type named Mack who
turned out to have joined the team at HQ after being caught by a different
hacker who wanted to profit from telling on his ‘colleague’. If that
explanation sounds like something out of a Pooh Bear story in which one
honey-stealer accuses another, they would not be far wrong. One hacker had been
‘set’ on another by MI5 and nobody told on anyone there – or did they?
Suffice it to say that Mack survived whatever was going on
while the other hacker absconded and was never heard of again. Mack was in an
even better position of trust after revealing a lot of gunge on the central
processing unit at HQ. He had subsequently cleaned it all up and now did
regular checks – so he said.
To Cleo’s horror, one of the checks on the office’s terminal
included discovering that Frank had organized full access to the drugs squad
database at HQ and also full access to anything private that Cleo had entered.
“Another nail in his coffin,” remarked Cleo.
“You’ll be lucky. I know Wetherby. He’s as slippery as an
eel,” said Mack.
“How do you know him?”
“Trade secret. He calls himself Froth, Miss Hartley. He’s a
regular on dealer pages.”
Cleo refrained from asking Mack why he consulted drug sites,
hoping that it was only in his line of duty. She also refrained from pressing Mack
to tell her how he knew that Froth was Frank since she was sure that he would
not say.
“You seem to know a lot,” said Cleo.
“Too much for one person,” said Mack. “The problem is that
all good hackers can get into any ID and wreck havoc. I work for the bosses at
HQ these days. Others make a better use of what they find out.”
“I should have thought a good job and a position of trust
were preferable to a prison cell, Mr Mack. I expect someone is keeping a watch
on you as well.”
“They’d have to prove something, Miss Hartley. And BTW I’m just
Mack,” said Mack. “My parents had the bright idea of giving me a first name to
match the second, so I’m Mackintosh Mcintosh spelt like on my card,” he said,
handing one to her.
“My mother named me Cleopatra, Mack. I won’t bore you with a
list of names I was called as a kid.”
Mack smiled and Cleo was sure he was too good to be true.
“Do you think Froth could have hacked into anything else?”
said Cleo.
“It’s like an addiction,” said Mack. “Once you have the
knack, you can really go to town. He may have used a private laptop for other
excursions.”
Cleo vowed to warn Gary and through Gary, find out why Roger
and his colleagues had decided to trust Mack.
***
Grit happily looked after the children on mornings Cleo had
to be out. Charlie had invited Helen and Brass’s daughter Lilac to play at the
cottage. Cecilia was packing to go on holiday and had no time. Cleo would leave
Grit with the children and meet Mrs
Colby at her office as arranged. She also planned to ask Rita to come to her
office later that morning. Mack had finished his work before Mrs Colby arrived.
She had taken the wrong bus.
“Don’t you have a car, Mrs Colby?” Cleo asked.
“No point. Mrs Hurley. I live within walking distance of my
job at the town hall and can go everywhere else by train or bus.”
***
Gary was anxious to get to HQ but first he had to drop Joe
off at the car salesroom. He had decided to borrow a car until the one he had
ordered was delivered. Grit needed her mini more often since she had paired up
with Roger.
“So much for sluggish business at the agency,” Gary had said
at breakfast. “You’ll be inundated with witnesses of that bonfire once people
realize that their homes could also be in danger. We let them believe that if
it helps us to get nearer to catching the arsonist.”
“I’m glad I have a job for Dorothy. She was getting quite
suspicious of there being nothing to do. I wonder how Hilda is getting on.”
“As long as she just spies through the nets she’s harmless,
Cleo. We’ll have to wait for more information about Kelly’s life and death and
Hilda will not be able to supply it by guesswork.”
“We can be sure that she will get in touch if anything
happens.”
“Assuming she sees it. I wonder who that car driver was,”
said Gary.
“Someone who did not know that the stone cutter had met his
maker, Gary.”
“That suggests that he was not from the trade. If Burton was
an artisan skilled enough to attract the custom of an international gem trader,
the news of his death would have been circulated.”
“That won’t make it any easier to find the guy,” said Cleo.
“I might not even be worth the trouble.”
“I’m actually more interested in Frank Wetherby’s
activities,” said Gary. “Kelly probably led a more or less blameless life
except for his activities as a pimp, so his killer could be from his personal
contacts rather than a business rival.”
“Couldn’t we make a determined effort to find his
relatives?” said Cleo.
“We can wait and see what’s in those files,” said Gary. “We
don’t know how many lies Kelly told about his origins. I doubt whether contacts
were followed up once it was clear that Kelly had not actually committed a
crime. We certainly let him go in the Magda case.”
“He was innocent Gary.”
“Was he?”
“What could have been his motive?”
“It sounds a bit ludicrous, but I’d tip on jealousy.”
***
Mrs Colby was friendly, but nervous. Cleo showed her photos
of the twins and served coffee before asking the registrar what the problem
was.
“I know I should not have waited this long,” said Mrs Colby.
“But you were so busy with the wedding arrangements and impending birth that I
felt it would be wrong timing.”
“I would have been in touch myself, Mrs Colby, but the twins
came a month sooner than expected and I have been kind of busy ever since.”
“My problem can wait if it’s too much, Mrs Hurley.”
“It’s waited long enough,” said Cleo. “The babies are almost
weaned and my mother-in-law loves being in charge, so tell me what’s bothering
you.”
“I have a teenage daughter, Mrs Hurley, and she has left
home,” Mrs Colby started.
“That’s not unusual unless ….”
Cleo hesitated and decided not to put any ideas forward. She
thought that Mrs Colby would have had time to do anything she could do herself,
but would not know about the effect lover-boys can have on vulnerable
teenagers.
“Did she have a boyfriend, Mrs Colby?”
“Not that I know of, Mrs Hurley.”
“Do you have her address, Mrs Colby?”
“No. I got a letter from Joanna shortly before your marriage
telling me to leave her alone.”
“So she’s been gone for up to five months, hasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“How old is she?”
“Eighteen.”
“Then she is by definition an adult. I can’t look for people
who don’t want to be found and have not committed a crime. Do you know where
she went after she left home?”
“I think she went to London. I got a postcard of Tower
Bridge that said she was fine and that’s the last I’ve heard from her.”
“What about relatives, Mrs Colby?”
“I have a brother but no contact with him. I’ve been
divorced for about a decade. Jo’s father went to work on an oilrig somewhere.
He’s an engineer. Earns a lot of money I see nothing of. He was never
interested in his daughter, Mrs Hurley.”
“Do you think he might know where the girl is, Mrs Colby?”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Then we should locate him and ask him.”
“Do we have to?”
“He may know something about your daughter. What is her full
name?”
“Joanna Colby”
“I’ll look for her, but if I find her I’ll have to ask her
if she wants you to know where she is.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you have a photo of her?”
Mrs Colby gave Cleo a couple of snapshots. Cleo scanned them
into her computer and said she would start right away.
“It’s such a pity that you did not tell me sooner,” said
Cleo. “The longer she is away, the harder it will be to find her.”
“I thought she might come home of her own accord, Mrs
Hurley.”
“Parents never give up hope, Mrs Colby.”
“I never reported her as missing. Was that a mistake?”
“Yes and no. Being hunted down is not something anyone likes
and the police can be heavy-handed when the y ask around, which could lead to
someone else who is missing seeing that as a warning or even mean danger for
the person being looked for. Joanna might have disappeared for ever if you had
tried to find her through the police and she would recognize you and hide if
that’s what she wanted to do. What is your ex-husband’s full name?
“Andrew, Mrs Hurley, but he liked to be called Andy so I
don’t know which name he goes by now.”
“No middle name?”
“No.”
“My husband will look for him. There is just one thing, Mrs
Colby,” said Cleo.” We will try not to make the search for your daughter
public, but such enquiries go through many hands, so we cannot rule it out.”
“You’d better not try to find her then,” said Mrs Colby. “I
need my job, Mrs Hurley.”
“Don’t you need your daughter more?” said Cleo. “They must
both be located, your daughter because she has been missing for far too long
and your ex because he might know where she is. You will have no peace of mind
until you know the truth.”
“I’m not sure I can ever return to such a sublime state,”
said Mrs Colby.
***
Cleo was not impressed with Mrs Colby’s attitude to looking
for her daughter. The woman was steeped in selfishness and self-pity. Cleo decided
to go ahead with the hunt, not least because she herself was worried about the
girl. She would send Joanna Colby’s photo to Gary and ask him to put it through
the various databases available. A photo of Andrew Colby would have been a
help, but men could change their looks very easily with beards, glasses and a
new hairstyle or coloration, or no hair at all. She would ask Mrs Colby for a
photo of her ex only if it was not possible to trace him on the basis of his
name and occupation.
Gary agreed that the girl must be found and thought likely that
firms hiring out oilrig workers might have the engineer Colby on their books.
***
Cleo was just clearing up her desk before going home when
the phone rang. It was Bertie Browne, someone Cleo did not want to talk to.
“What’s all this?” said Browne. “Has the Colby girl gone missing?”
“Who is the Colby girl, Mr Browne?”
“You know damn well who that is. You should not use your
desk phone if you don’t want information to get into the wrong hands, Miss
Hartley.”
“What are you talking about, Mr Browne.”
“That police hacker did not do a good job, Miss Hartley.
Your phone is bugged. Didn’t you know that?”
“Would you care to tell me in words of one syllable what you
are talking about?” said Cleo, wondering if the phone bugging had been
organized by Mack.
“I got a tip-off ten minutes ago that the registrar woman is
looking for her daughter. That can only be Colby.”
“I’m flabbergasted. I should thank you for phoning me,” said
Cleo.
“Yes you should. So the girl has gone missing, hasn’t she?
That’ll make good reading in the Monday edition of my Gazette, Miss Hartley.”
“Don’t do it, Mr Browne. There would be dire consequences
for you.”
“Stuff it, Cleo. Your call to Hurley was like you made a
public announcement.”
“I’m shattered, Mr Browne, and don’t address me by my first
name. I’m polite with you.”
“OK, OK. So you didn’t know about the phone-tapping. It
might only be a recent addition to your communications system. That hacker Mack
is rather an unknown quantity. I’m surprise that he goes in and out of HQ.”
“Do you understand what’s at stake, Mr Browne? Would you
like to be responsible for a suicide or murder even if it would make really
good reading in your Gazette?”
“You don’t understand the workings of the free press, Miss
Hartley.”
“I think I do, Mr Browne. Would you promise me to wait till
the Thursday edition if I promise to give you details of progress? It gives me a week and your Monday edition is
always very popular anyhow.”
There was a long pause.
“I’ll do it, Miss Hartley. You are a decent person and your
brother- in-law brought in a lot of business. I’m now waiting for more
information about his reunion with his family.”
“Thank you Mr Browne. You’ll get it. What’s more, I’ll
reward you for your discretion by telling you that Joe Butler is collecting his
daughter from the airport some time tomorrow. That’s a nice story he won’t mind
you telling, and I’m sure you will get more new readers by publishing a happy
story rather than a sad one.”
“Thanks, Miss Hartley. You are quite a girl,” said Bertie
Browne despite himself.
“My husband thinks so, too,” said Cleo.
The air seemed to be cleared.
“Can I check back on Sunday morning,” said Bertie.
“Sure. You know my cell phone number. Better use it in case
someone is listening in to one of my net phones. But don’t expect a clear photo
of the girl. Maybe I can get one of the airport meeting, but the girl’s face
must not be recognizable; you know that.”
“Of course, Miss Hartley. It might surprise you that I have teenage
kids of my own.”
“That does surprise me, Mr Browne. I thought you were …”
“Gay? No. It’s all an act. People seem to like it that way.”
***
Cleo had plenty to tell Gary when they met at the cottage
for a very belated lunch and she would have to break the news to Joe that his
reunion with his daughter was the price for discretion about the missing Colby
girl. There was also the small detail of her office phone being bugged.
“I thought he was crooked, and he is, Gary.”
“I’d get the police onto him if I wasn’t one myself,” he said.
“You’d better put a message on that phone saying it is currently being bugged
and to use your cell phone. I’ll get Mack in tomorrow for a little talk.”
Joe had already taken the initiative by phoning Bertie with
the news that Bertie could finish the search off by saying that Gary and he now
shared a mother! He promised to get
photos for the following week.
“I told him Charlie is coming,” said Cleo. “He blur her face.
He has kids of his own.”
“How the hell do you know that?” said Gary.
“He told me,” said Cleo. “We are quite good friends now.”
The news that Cleo’s phone at the office was bugged was more
dramatic. Gary wondered why Mack had not mentioned it. Had he installed the bug?
Did that provide prove that he or Frank Wetherby was a crook? The hacker had
not mentioned a bug, which was in itself suspicious Did Mack want to be sure
that Cleo’s business continued to be porous?
“We’ll have to thank Bertie Browne for that coded warning,
Cleo.”
“It wasn’t coded. He rang to find out if the news about the
Colby girl was true and told me how he had found out.”
Gary continued to muse on whether Mack really had removed
one weak link and installed another. Why would he do that when he was trusted
to mend security leaks?
Gary immediately went to Cleo’s office and removed the bug. He
also checked for other security gaps, but could find none. He phoned his
office, but Nigel was not there and Roger had gone out for a round of golf He
could not tell either what the calls were about without leaving a message,
which he was not going to do since it would be doing a hacker a favour by
warning him. He had not decided how to approach Mack McIntosh. He wrote Roger a
text warning him of the ongoing hacker activities at HQ. Who had recommended
Mack?
***
Cleo decided to go without a siesta, since she had not yet
talked to Mr Tailor alias R.D. Day. Dorothy had told her that Tailor knew about
the activities at Kelly’s farmhouse and would like to talk about them in more
detail. Before going there she passed on Dorothy’s information about Tailor’s
desire to purchase some or all of the Kelly property. Colin Peck was prepared
to advise Mr Tailor. He was glad to have something legal to practise on. The
files in the HQ archive were one scandal after another and riddled with faulty
judgments. Things got better after Roger Stone joined the management, but Colin
was planning to write about the subversive activities at HQ in earlier days.
Were they typical of what went on in the police force? Was subversiveness a
typical human trait? Cleo would give Mr Tailor Colin’s phone number. He could
ask for a consultation if he so wished.
***
The interview with Tailor at the coffee bar in Lower
Grumpsfield did not go the way Cleo had
meant it to. Tailor was grateful that Cleo had made the link between him and the
young lawyer possible. Surveyors had already been seen on Kelly’s land. It
would not be long before the property was put up for sale. He would have to
move fast.
Tailor’s description of what went on at Kelly’s farmhouse
was familiar to Cleo, but the confirmation was reassuring. Now it became essential
to find out if Robert Jones had been on the Common on that fatal Monday
afternoon. Kelly’s murder had taken place quite near. Where had Tailor been
that afternoon?
“Am I a suspect, Miss Hartley? If so, it’s the police who
should be asking me that question.”
“But I’m asking it, Mr Tailor. If you could tell me that you
spend the afternoon at home with a female visitor, we could leave the police
out.”
“That’s a quant idea,” said Tailor.
“For instance, if you were friendly with Rita Bailey…”
“Rita?”
“Didn’t she stay with you on Tuesday night?”
“How do you know that?
“Was she here all day Monday? Her salon is not open on
Mondays, is it?”
“She’s just a friend.”
“Was she here at the weekend, too?”
“Why do you need to know all that?”
“Because you both need alibis, Mr Tailor.”
“For what?”
“Murder. Arson,” said Cleo. “You see, Mr Tailor, I’ve read
some of your books and the crimes you solve in them have a personal quality.”
“I’m leaving. This is ridiculous,
“I expect we’ll meet again soon,” said Cleo.
Cleo felt gratified that Tailor had seemed very
uncomfortable with the suggestion that he committed crimes so that he could
write about them. She was less gratified that Tailor had left her to pick up
the tab for their coffee.
ee.
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