High rise mystery, page 10
‘It’s Mark,’ Norva interjected tightly.
‘Apologies, Mark, were working on Hugo’s room on Saturday. Hugo arranged it aeons ago. They cleaned the room to–’ She looked at Norva, nodding, ‘–get rid of the ants, and repainted it. I spent the day in the kitchen. The heat was ravishing my fruit – absolutely spoiling it – so I made a huge batch of juice. I handed it over to Sissy before it went to waste.’
I reached for my phone.
‘So Pap was here all of Saturday. Painting with Mark, and he was limping?’
‘Yah,’ she replied. ‘Such a good man. Working through the pain.’
32
‘So, how well do you know Mark? I asked Serena.
Norva stared at her.
‘Not very well at all…’ she said. She looked down. ‘I’ve seen him around, in the lifts, in the gardens. Sometimes walking around outside these three flats. And he’s knocked here too, to buy Vitonica, direct from the source.’ She smiled. ‘But so many people do. I’ve had a very steady stream of visitors since I lost Hugo.’ She gestured towards the cards. ‘It’s almost too difficult to keep faces and names straight.’
Serena looked out of the window.
‘When did you see Hugo last, Serena? What happened after the meeting? Where did you go?’ Norva asked.
I sat poised, phone in hand.
‘I didn’t really see him after the meeting. We came home, just after ten-thirty. The lifts were broken and after that climb, I was exhausted. I went to bed. I thought I heard something around one-fifteen, but I rolled back to sleep.’
‘One-fifteen?’ I asked. I stared at Norva.
Mrs K’s friend left at that time.
Norva stared back.
Was the time of death window closing?
‘Yah, around that time. I thought Hugo went to meet his girlfriend,’ she said quietly.
‘Girlfriend!?’ Norva and I shouted in unison.
‘Sorry, Serena.’ Norva lowered her voice. ‘Hugo’s girlfriend? Who’s that?’
‘Well, I’m not certain they were seeing each other in that way, but I think it’s the Chief Tri-Angel. Julie?’ Serena replied.
‘You mean Jane?’ I asked.
‘Yah, her.’
Hugo and Jane? Really?
‘Are you sure?’ asked Norva. ‘They don’t seem like, you know, they’re a match. To me anyway.’
‘You could never know with Hugo,’ she said, waving her hand around the room.
‘Could Hugo and Jane be talking about something else?’ I offered. ‘Antiques? Architecture?’ I paused. ‘Money?’
Serena turned sharply to me. ‘Do you think so? Might it be about money?’ She asked, eagerly. Norva looked at her, pursing her lips.
‘I do hope not, because I don’t have any money to give her!’ She looked at her hands.
‘Do you have a job?’ I asked. ‘Besides Vitonica, the dog walking and, you know, yoga?’
She shook her head. ‘No, not really. I don’t have a lot of money – not until my divorce is settled and the house in West London is sold. Hugo covered costs. Now he’s gone, I’ll have to go too, I’m sure.’
I reached for her hand. ‘I hope not.’
Norva rolled her eyes.
‘Me too.’ Serena laughed bitterly.
I winced. It sounded like a cry.
‘I’m having a rotten run of things,’ she said. ‘This year’s been too hard, and now this place is full of bad energy. Bad vibes. I think my time – and work – here is done, girls. In trying to find myself, I lost my brother.’
Norva sat forward. ‘Speaking of finding what you’re looking for, Serena, have you heard about The Clock?’
Serena stood up. ‘You know about The Clock?’ she shouted. ‘What do you know about it?
We sat back. Eyes wide.
‘Wait there!’ she said. ‘Don’t move!’
Serena tore out of the room.
‘Oh my days,’ Norva mouthed to me. ‘What the hell is this now?’
‘I don’t know,’ I whispered back. ‘But I don’t like it!’
Serena paced back into the room, knocking over the stack of magazines.
‘Look!’ She said, thrusting a crumpled piece of paper under our noses. ‘Look!’
Norva reached for it.
‘It was shoved under my door last night!’
A note. A4 white paper. Hand written, terribly.
It read:
Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock!
Give Me The Flipping Clock
You’re time runs out on Friday.
Serena was being threatened.
I gulped.
Norva’s hands shook.
Motive: Money? Money for the clock? The Clock.
I took a photo.
‘Did you show this to Sharp Shooter?’ Norva asked.
‘The Detective,’ I clarified.
‘Of course.’
‘And she didn’t take it from you? For evidence?’ I asked.
‘No, she looked at it and took a photo, like you.’
I looked back at the note. One thing bothered me. Irrationally.
‘You’re?’
‘I know,’ said Serena.
To-do: Find out who wrote Serena’s note
‘Hugo has so many things,’ Serena said, sitting down. ‘A myriad of clocks and other timepieces. Do you know which one they could be talking about? Where do I start?’
We shook our heads.
I shrugged.
‘I’m not sure. We just have a feeling that this one was special to him, and important. Valuable,’ I said.
‘Clearly,’ she replied. ‘Take a look around – see if anything jumps out at you. Let’s also swap numbers, so you can let me know immediately if you find out more.’
Serena tapped our numbers into her phone.
‘Have you looked in his van, since, since…?’ I asked, my question trailing away.
She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t have the keys. I have no idea where they’d be.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I hope I find this clock. For my own safety, obviously, but I’d like to give it to our father. If it was so special to him, it would be priceless for Daddy…’ She coughed back a cry.
I touched her shoulder. ‘That’s a lovely thought, Serena. We’re on the case.’
She held my hand.
‘Thank you, girls. You are just darling.’
33
We sat in silence.
‘Ohh!’ Serena said. ‘I need to pop to the loo,’ she said and dabbed at her eyes.
As she ducked into to her bathroom, I shouted after her: ‘Can I have a juice, please?’
‘Afraid not, I don’t have any at the moment. No time – or desire – to make them,’ Serena called back.
Understandably.
We stood up, looked around the living room, being careful not to break anything.
We stepped into the kitchen.
‘Hugo and Jane?’ Norva whispered. ‘Crazy if correct, but no chance! Hugo’s gay. She’s his sister, she should know that!’
‘Yep. She should,’ I replied. ‘Also – Pap’s limp.’
Norva slumped against the fridge. ‘What about it? He got it between Friday night and Saturday morning.’
‘I know. I figured that out too. I hope he didn’t get it at one-fifteen, when someone, possibly Kowalski’s ‘friend’, was moving around.’
Norva stared at me.
‘And speaking of moving around, why is Mark everywhere? He has no reason to be walking around outside Serena’s flat – he’s not friends with George and Nina, or Jane is he?’
Norva shrugged. ‘Doubt it.’
‘I don’t think he knew Hugo well either.’
I moved Norva out of the way of the fridge and pulled open the door. ‘Norva – there’s loads of juice in here, but it looks off. That must be what she meant about not having any.’
I took a photo and shut the door, looking around the rest of the kitchen:
• One juicer
• Three large piles of cherries, apples and bananas
• A tub of sealed Tupperware with fruit pulp, cherry seeds, peach pits, almonds and other unconfirmed nuts
‘Sealed to keep it from the ants?’ I asked Norva.
She shrugged. ‘Possibly. Take a photo.’
I didn’t need to be told.
Over at the bin, under the sink, was a crumpled bag of fast food.
‘Dirty food for such a seemingly clean person,’ Norva laughed.
I moved back to the worktop next to the fridge. Attached to its side was a pin board, and attached to the board were various notes and a calendar.
I peered at it closely. This Friday’s date was circled in thick red pen. Next to the number was a crude symbol. A clock icon.
‘Norva,’ I called. She peered at it. ‘Looks like a pie to me. Friday Pieday. God, I’m so hungry.’
‘That’s not a pie, come on! That’s the international symbol for a clock!’
I took a photo and searched the pin board.
• Dry cleaning tickets
• Shopping lists
• Hugo’s passport photo
‘They should have used that one at the market,’ Norva said. ‘It’s way more flattering.’
• A rectangle of paper with names and a sum of money written on it.
I nudged Norva and took a photo.
‘That’s a cheque, Nik,’ she said. ‘PayPal for olds.’
This cheque was addressed to ‘Tri-Angels Ltd’. £250 cheque from Hugo C Knightley-Webb. The line that had the word ‘signature’ next to it was blank.
‘Hugo did owe Jane money?’ I said.
‘And so much! Why isn’t it signed? Why doesn’t Jane have it?’ said Norva. ‘Are you telling me Serena hasn’t seen this cheque before?
I shrugged. ‘Seems unlikely.’
‘What’s her deal?’ she whispered.
‘Whose deal?’ said Serena, appearing suddenly behind us.
We jumped.
‘Oh...’ I said, stumped for something to say. I looked at the juicer. ‘How you could supply all that Vitonica with just one juicer?’
Norva jumped in brightly. ‘Yeah, what’s the deal with that?’ she laughed, raising her hands.
‘Ah, you know. I just work hard,’ Serena said with a smile.
34
We let ourselves into our flat. Ringo ran ahead. He lapped loudly at the water in his bowl.
Pap was home early. His dirty, large boots were by the door. I picked up a shoe and turned it over to examine it.
It was flecked in dried yellow paint. Tri-Yellow.
I set the boot back gently on the floor, sole up, reached for my phone and took a picture. The flash lit up the hall. Norva shook her head.
‘Are you going to shake your head at me every time I do something? I’m getting tired of it. I’m being thorough,’ I hissed.
‘I’ll shake my head at who and what I like,’ she replied.
We walked through the lounge into the kitchen.
Pap was at the sink, his back to us. I sat at the table.
Norva headed straight for the fridge. She threw a Vitonica at me, which I caught like a cricketer. She tore into a pack of smoked ham, which she ate in fistfuls.
‘Alright, Pap?’ Norva asked him between mouthfuls. ‘Why you home so early?’
No reply.
‘Pap?’ I asked.
‘I was sent home from first aid training,’ he said with a sigh. ‘They’d heard the news, and watched the Cloud News report. They said I was a distraction.’
I looked at Norva. Ham hung from her mouth.
‘Where have you been all morning?’ he asked us in a low voice.
The lie jumped out.
‘Ah, we’ve been with George. Out and about.’ He turned around. His face was soft. ‘Yeah? Good. Hope you had a fun one. Potato salad and cold cuts for lunch, alright?’
We nodded.
‘If there’s any left, that is.’ Pap glanced at Norva, winced and limped over to the fridge.
It was time to know.
‘Pap,’ I started gently. ‘What happened to your leg?’
‘Ah, I pulled it on Friday night.’
I sipped on my juice nervously. Norva stopped chewing.
‘After the meeting?’ I tried to sound natural and light. Nonchalant.
He looked at us.
‘Yes. I was getting rid of some rubbish. On the way back, I wasn’t watching where I was going and hit my leg hard on an open door.’
I felt cold in the heat. I left the table to join Pap at the sink. He was distracted and fidgety, vigorously washing yellow from his hands. I looked up at him.
‘I can’t get this paint off my hands!’ He rubbed his hands under the water.
‘You’ll catch fire if you don’t dial back that friction, Pap,’ Norva said.
He smiled and turned off the tap.
‘Is that the Tri paint?’ I asked.
Norva mouthed, ‘Stop it!’
‘The one and only,’ he replied.
‘Who’s getting work done at the moment, Pap? In Corner One? I know George’s mum wanted to refresh her kitchen.’
The lie flowed out.
‘Hugo and Serena were done this weekend,’ he said. ‘Me and Mark took care of that. That Mark is struggling. Very broke, poor kid. Literally. Mrs Kowalski,’ he looked down, ‘was finished around the same time.’
‘When exactly?’ I asked.
‘Ah, over the weekend,’ he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
So that’s where Norva gets it from.
‘Where were you painting today, then?’
‘When I got back I did some little touch ups. Had another go at the burn in The Hub. It just won’t go.’ He shook his head.
‘So what about Nina?’ I asked. ‘Maybe Norva and I could have some paint and work on her kitchen?’
‘No chance,’ muttered Norva.
‘No. Sorry,’ said Pap. ‘That paint is managed by me and me only. Nina will have to join the back of the queue. I can’t just push everyone up the list. There is a system. There are rules.’
So that’s where I get it from.
Pap sighed. ‘I’ll get into more trouble if I don’t follow it.’
‘What trouble? What’s going on, Pap?’ I said gently, my arms around his waist. Norva started making lunch by putting food onto plates and not directly into her mouth.
‘Everyone – and I mean everyone – is talking about me and Hugo.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll be honest, he could be a right fool. And I know he owes Jane some money, but he didn’t deserve this. No one does. Ever. It got hot at the meeting, sure, but we made up. It was all cool. Or so I thought.’
‘You made up with Hugo?’ Norva asked.
‘Yeah, I dropped him a note and apologised. He replied and accepted it.’
‘What note?’ I added.
‘I emailed him. Said sorry. I was rude. I can’t excuse that behaviour.’
I reached for my phone.
Pap apologized to Hugo via email.
‘Do you remember the time?’ I asked.
‘Probably Eleven-thirty ish?’
I updated the file. His anger with Hugo had faded, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear.
‘Where did Hugo go on Friday after the meeting? Did you see him?’ Norva asked as she set the table.
‘Nah. I’d normally run into him on a Sunday on Third Avenue, coming back from Bermuda’s. I didn’t see him this Sunday, for reasons now obvious.’
‘We saw Serena today,’ I said. ‘She told us Hugo had a girlfriend.’
Pap roared with laughter. ‘Hahaha! Nope. No.’ He laughed again. ‘Serena said that? Hugo? A girlfriend?’
‘That’s what we thought. We thought he was gay.’
Pap nodded.
‘But Serena thought he was seeing Jane.’
Pap stopped laughing. ‘Jane? Really? Hugo and Jane were definitely not together. At least as far as I know. I’m pretty certain about that.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ I asked.
Pap looked down at the table. ‘I just know about these things,’ he said.
I glanced at Norva. A disgusted look slowly crept over her face. She was reaching the same conclusion as me.
The arm touching.
The sandwiches.
Recognising her in the dark.
Pap and Jane.
What! He’s had girlfriends after mum, sure.
But her? Jane?
I looked back at Norva. She was touching her neck and gagging. I swallowed hard, and changed the subject, somewhat.
‘How did you know that Hugo owed her money?’ I said.
‘Ah, I talk to Jane about a lot of things.’ Norva retched. Pap saw. ‘Tri-Angel stuff. I put their plans into action for them,’ he said, quickly.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘So was that who you were talking to on the phone? Yesterday, when we told you about Hugo?’
‘Tri-Angel stuff?’ said Norva.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ he said, avoiding the topic. ‘Let’s eat, OK?’
To-do: Ask Pap about his conversation and limp
We sat down.
‘So did you get a massage from Serena then?’ Norva asked.
‘Excuse me?’ shouted a shocked Pap. He put down his fork.
Norva smiled. ‘Your limp? She said she could have sorted your leg out?’
‘Oh, oh right. Yes. No, I was too busy for that,’ he said. ‘Me and Mark were there all day. Serena was mostly on the phone. Talking a whole lot.’
‘Did you sort out the ants?’
‘Nope – that job’s out of my remit. I gave pest control a ring, and sorted out an appointment for her. We were just refreshing Hugo’s bedroom. That job’s been on the list for ages. He booked it months ago.’
