A Perfect Likeness (7 page)

‘Certainly not, Claire, but if you should feel tempted just think of me holding your pay cheque and then consider who you like the most.’

‘Quite a kill-joy, your manager,’ said Trish as Claire shrugged. ‘Angela suggested you might be able to draw me a picture of this man?’

‘I could try. Might even enjoy doing it.’ She winked at Trish.

‘Please give it a try and when it’s done could you give it to Mr Myers for me to collect. One more thing, the same as I said to Angela, if you see either of them again, act normally, don’t mention this meeting and let me know immediately please. Again through Mr Myers.’

‘Will do and I’ll start on the sketch tonight. Something to look forward to.’ She turned to Myers. ‘Actually, Mr Myers, I like you a lot better than this hunk of a man.’ She got to the door and glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Well, at least once a month anyway.’ Another wink at Trish.

‘A happy young lady,’ commented Trish.

‘Always. The two of them make a great team. Now we have Susan Trent who works in the ladieswear department. She has been with the store since it was modernised some six years ago. A lovely lady in every way.’

And she was. Trish was envious at first sight. Mid-forties, short hair, petite, perfect figure and film star attractive. She entered the room with a smile straight out of the toothpaste adverts.

‘Sit down please, Susan,’ said Myers, clearly delighted at having her sitting at his desk.

‘Thank you,’ she replied. Apprehensive, but still with that blinding smile. ‘I hope I am not in any trouble, Mr Myers?’

‘No, Susan, not at all. Miss Lister is a private investigator and working for the police. She has a few questions for you.’

‘You will need to think back about two years or so, Susan, and tell me if you can recognise the lady in this photograph.’

She studied it for a while before responding negatively.

‘Perhaps it may just help if I said she was with her long lost twin sister and wanted everyone to know how excited she was about meeting her.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ve got it now. Sorry about that. She was the poor lady who was murdered, wasn’t she? A terrible thing. I recall her saying something about how wonderful it was to have a twin. I have to say, however, that I was not totally convinced the other lady was her twin. There was something about the way they acted. Yes, they were alike, very alike in fact. If the hair had been the same I would have said as identical as you could get. But, in my experience, twins, even at their age, normally would have been much closer together and both would have been happy. Laughing and giggling. Do you know what I mean? Touching each other. Showing signs of that incredible bond twins tend to have. This was not the case, the ‘found’ twin stayed well in the background, didn’t speak
and, to me, gave the impression she did not like all the attention.’

‘Have you seen the other lady since?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Thank you very much for your help, Susan. If she should come in would you let me know, via Mr Myers.’

‘No problem. May I go now, Mr Myers? I’m in the middle of putting the new range of fashion bras on display. Boxes all over the floor. Not good for the customers.’

‘Yes of course, Susan, and thank you.’

‘I see what you mean, Mr Myers, personality plus the looks to go with it. Lucky lady.’

Myers laughed. ‘Yes, not bad for a grandmother is she? Her husband is a police inspector, their youngest son has just been accepted as a police cadet and their daughter had twins last year.’

Trish wished she had corrected Myers over his ‘working for the police’ comment.

*

‘I could do with something a little stronger than coffee,’ said Trish, ‘I can feel myself shaking. I don’t feel much like anything to eat either.’

‘Must eat, Trish. We’ll have a light snack and a glass of wine.’

It wasn’t busy and they elected to sit by a window. The Maxfords cafeteria was on the third floor and from their table it was possible to get a good view of the sea.

‘I love the sea,’ said Jackie cutting the pizza in half and sliding one portion on to Trish’s plate.

‘Me too, but are you not interested in my mornings work?’ Trish was transferring half of her salad on to Jackie’s plate as she spoke.

‘Don’t be silly, of course I am. I didn’t think there was much to tell as you were not gushing with news.’

‘Well now, where shall we start?’ She took a mouthful of pizza. ‘Mmmm, this is delicious. How’s your half of the salad?’

‘Oh, stop it, Trish. Don’t tease.’

‘Victoria did meet a woman who could have been mistaken for her twin. They also had coffee together in this cafeteria. The mystery lady has been back here, the last time with a handsome, muscular and tanned man. That was two to three months ago, the girls were not sure.’ She flicked over a page of her note book and ran her finger across it. ‘Here it is. Yes, it was the lady on the shop floor who said something interesting. A Susan Trent, who is the wife of a police inspector by the way, acknowledged they were almost identical but felt they were
not
twins. No bonding between them and the other woman stayed in the background as if she didn’t want the recognition.’

Jackie placed her knife and fork on the plate and took a sip of wine. ‘Look at me, Trish, I’m shaking.’ She raised her arms out in front of her. ‘I’ve got your problem, but without the booze!’

‘You cow,’ said Trish feigning her anger.

‘I’m so glad we can joke about the problem, Trish, it has to help. What do you think about this lady?’

‘One thing is for sure, Michael hasn’t been lying to us, which is good news. Another witness, that waitress over there by the till, saw our twin with her boyfriend and is going to draw a sketch of him for us. Maybe it will help, maybe not. Who knows at this stage.’

‘Can we go to Inspector Deckman with this information?’ Jackie was confident Trish would be agreeable.

‘No. All we know at the moment is that Victoria had met this person on a number of occasions and was excited about their closeness of appearance. It doesn’t give us a chance to point a finger, but I think it is a positive start.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’ The glasses clinked over the table. ‘Nice work, Trish.’

‘Thanks, boss, but less talking as I have to be at Victoria’s workplace in an hour, best finish our lunch.’

*

‘I’ll wait in the car, got a new thriller to read. Good luck, Trish.’

As she walked around the side of the building to the main entrance Trish rubbed her fingers along the brickwork. It was a big building, much larger than she expected and older. She brushed her hands together to remove the red brick dust. Almost Victorian, she thought as she turned the corner and saw the front of the works. Her love of Victorian romance novels convinced her that every old building was from that era. The inside, although old, was open plan, spotless and contained what she assumed to be all the latest technology.

‘Hello. Miss Lister, I presume. I’m Christine Eaton, Mr O’Neill’s personal secretary.’ She checked her watch. ‘Thought I’d best meet you and you’re right on time. Excellent. Mr O’Neill insists I meet all visitors as he doesn’t like the idea of them wandering around the print-floor. I don’t think he trusts anyone. If you could follow me please, his office is on the next floor.’

Trish did as instructed and couldn’t help observing the calf length ladder in the secretary’s tights. She considered telling her, but decided against it.

‘Would you mind taking a seat please, just for a few minutes. He’s on the telephone to our salesman in the Middle East. We do an awful lot of work out there you know. Technical books.’

Trish didn’t know and couldn’t be less concerned but she gave one of her special ‘I’m impressed’ expressions. ‘I didn’t think this type of printing company existed any more,’ she said.

‘Competition is tough all right but we are doing very well. Our biggest threat comes from the Far East. They have become very efficient over recent years and… Oh, just a moment.’ She was halted by the sound of her intercom clicking.

‘Christine, if he has arrived, can you ask the policeman to come in now.’

‘It’s not a policeman…’ her voice tailed off as the MD didn’t wait for a response.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll explain who I am,’ said Trish passing through the connecting door.

‘Hello, Constable, I’m Charles O’Neill, how can I help you?’ He looked up from his desk. ‘Oh, you’re not a man, are you?’

‘Good day, Sir, no I’m not a man. Glad you noticed and neither am I a member of the police force. Although I am assured they do employ female officers these days.’ Trish felt an immediate an intense loathing for this man and thought she may have already gone too far.

O’Neill made no comment so Trish continued. ‘I appreciate you taking time to see me, Sir, and I do understand you are very busy.’
Get on with it,
Trish
, she thought.
He’s getting fidgety
. ‘I need to ask some questions relating to Victoria Campbell, your personal secretary who was …’

‘Yes, Miss Lester, I am fully aware who Mrs Campbell is, er… was. My secretary told me you wished to speak about an ex-employee. I assumed you were from the police wishing to talk about the cleaner we dismissed last week for stealing a radio belonging to another member of staff and, God knows what else, during his six months with us. I wanted action taken against him.’

‘The name is Lister, Sir, and I am a private investigator employed by the family of Victoria Campbell. I am following up new information prior to handing over my findings to Detective Inspector Deckman of Draycliffe Serious Crimes.’ Trish felt it a good idea to mention the name of a senior police officer.

O’Neill looked up with his mouth open, ready to take his stolen radio theft a little further but decided not to. ‘I don’t normally entertain private investigators, but as you are here you might as well go ahead.’

‘As Victoria was your personal secretary did she ever confide in you about any problems she had?’
I couldn’t imagine anyone wishing to open their heart to this character
, thought Trish. ‘Did she ever tell you that she had met a long lost relative and could you confirm whether she took her lunch break here in the office or did she go to the shops or home?’

‘Look, Miss, Constable or whatever it is that you are,’ protested O’Neill, ‘this was over two wretched years ago. That incident cost me a lot of time and money in getting a new secretary. I am a very busy …’

‘And the violent death of poor Victoria Campbell is no longer an issue you wish to consider,’ interrupted Trish. ‘I think that is what you are trying to say, Sir.’

‘No, no, of course not. I’m sorry. I’ve just had bad news from the Middle East and I’m not thinking straight. Things are not going as good as we had expected.’

‘Sorry to hear about that, Sir,’ said Trish, delighted with the news. Her dislike of O’Neill grew stronger each time he opened his mouth, but she needed his information. ‘It would be helpful, Sir, if you could answer my questions, please?’

‘Yes, yes. No, she never confided in me at all. Most days she would go shopping or whatever in the town centre with one of the ladies who worked downstairs. Except when her husband, Michael, was not on duty and then he would pick her up. He was an Air Traffic Controller at Gatwick Airport you know.’

‘Yes, Sir, I am quite aware of what Mr Campbell’s employment was. Is this lady still working for you?’

‘Of course. She is working now and is very busy, I may add. And, remember, you are
not
the police and cannot demand to see my staff whilst they are at work.’

‘I understand that, Sir, and, as I said before, I appreciate the time you are allowing me. Perhaps I may remind you that I am here on behalf of the bereaved family of Victoria Campbell and I shall be reporting
everything
back to the police.’

‘Yes. Miss Lister, you’ve made your point. I will arrange for my secretary to get the young lady up here. Her name is Elizabeth Browne. That is, Browne with an ‘e’. Please be as quick as you can with her as we are already a week behind with the order she is dealing with.’

‘One final question, Sir. Did you notice any change in Victoria during the three months leading up to her death?’ Trish knew the answer would be in the negative.

‘No, I did not notice any change at all.’

‘Thank you, Sir, you have been most helpful. And now if I may speak with Elizabeth Browne, that’s with an ‘e’. Do you have an office I may use for a few minutes, please?’

O’Neill raised his head, but again thought better of further comment and pressed the intercom button with PS written on it in black felt tip. ‘Christine, tell Elizabeth to come upstairs now will you.’

‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Trish. ‘And the office?’

‘Oh, yes. You can use ‘Sales’. It’s empty at the moment, they are all away, er …’

‘Selling, Sir,’ said Trish.

‘Yes, Miss Lister, that’s right,’ he said as he opened his office door.

‘Christine, show Miss Lister to Sales, she wishes to speak with Elizabeth in private.’

‘Yes, Mr O’Neill. Come this way please, Elizabeth is on her way up.’