Death Line (3 page)

Astell's shocked face peered over Llewellyn's shoulder. “I warned Jasper that carrying such large sums of cash about was dangerous. Of course, I was thinking more about him being attacked on the street. With the entry phone and window locks, I assumed he'd be safe enough here.”

“How many keys are there to this box?”

“Only two. I have one and Jasper had the other. Though, of course, our staff have daily access to it. Jasper usually left his key in his desk, I believe.” Rafferty checked. Moon's key was still there. “Mr Moon wouldn't have taken the money himself and spent it already?” he questioned. “You said you took the money out of the bank yesterday morning.”

Astell shook his head. “When I warned him to be careful, he told me he wouldn't even be removing it from the premises. It would stay in the box till tomorrow – or rather, today, as it wouldn't be wanted till then. I take it from that, that whoever he wanted the money for would be coming to the office for it.” His lips thinned. Apparently that pleased him little more than that Jasper should walk about the streets with it.

In spite of his insistence that an intruder was responsible for the crime, the discovery of the robbery seemed to have shaken him. A case of the smaller shock helping the larger one to sink in, Rafferty guessed. He had seen it before. Though Astell seemed to find no incongruity, to Rafferty, there were points about this so-called burglary that struck him as peculiar. Although the money was missing, several other obviously expensive items on Moon's desk had not been taken; small silver, easily pocketable knick-knacks, for instance. If a burglar had taken the money, why hadn't he taken these also? Just as odd was the fact that there was no sign that he had entered the other offices. Even Astell had reluctantly admitted that he didn't think anything had been taken from them and their filing cabinets and desks were undisturbed.

Another thing, Moon's cashbox had been locked. Even if the key had been taken from Moon's desk, why would a burglar bother locking the box up afterwards, never mind replacing the key? Rafferty doubted that this careful burglar was the same person who had vandalised the office and murdered Moon. He relocked the box and stood up. After telling Appleby that the box was another item for priority fingerprinting, he made a mental note to check with the bank to see if they could let him have a list of the notes' numbers. It would be interesting to see if any of them showed up; even more so to discover who disposed of them. Back in Astell's office, Rafferty resumed the questioning. “He didn't tell you who he wanted the money for?”

“No, but I can hazard a guess. Oh, not a specific identity,” he added as he saw Rafferty's quick interest. “I don't mean that. Jasper was a bit of a magpie, Inspector and more than a little extravagant.” Astell's lips pursed. “If he saw something bright and shiny he had to have it. This money would undoubtedly be required for some gewgaw. Though it's strange that Jasper arranged to see the seller here. As far as I'm aware, he never had before, yet he asked me to withdraw such large sums three or four times a year.” His gaze fixed on Rafferty. “You – you don't think this person could have killed him?”

“I doubt it, sir. If this person did business fairly regularly with Mr Moon, as seems likely given that he had invited him to his office, why would he kill such a valued customer?”

“Why were these transactions always in cash, sir?” Llewellyn queried what Rafferty – brought up by his off-the-back-of-a-lorry, bargain-hunting Ma – had already guessed. “Surely he could have written out a cheque or paid by credit card?”

Astell hesitated, shifting his gaze from Llewellyn's ascetic features to Rafferty's more accommodating ones. “The legality of some of Jasper's purchases was a little –
suspect
shall we say? I gather he invariably dealt with the same man, and he insisted on cash. That's why I wondered if this person mightn't have killed him. Obviously, he's some kind of criminal.”

Rafferty nodded. “I see your reasoning, sir, but I still feel there is a lack of motive for murder. As I said before, if this acquaintance of Mr Moon's had been doing business for some time, he would be unlikely to kill a long-standing and prosperous customer like Mr Moon.”

Astell admitted that, put like that, it sounded improbable. Rafferty paused, before softly posing the question that was guaranteed to get under Astell's skin. “Was Mr Moon seeing a client last night, do you know, sir?”

As expected, Astell's lips thinned. “Most unlikely, Inspector.” Rafferty deduced from his tone that Astell felt the partnership's clientele should be out of bounds to the police investigation. “Jasper rarely saw clients on Thursday evenings,” he told them. “He liked to keep them free for other work. But if he had made an appointment it would be in his diary.”

There had been nothing booked later than 4.00 p m against yesterday's date, Rafferty knew. He had made a particular point of checking this as he had flipped through using the end of a pen.

Astell was sufficient of a realist to add what the police would have anyway soon discovered from another source, “Occasionally, if a client needed to see him urgently for a consultation, Jasper would make an exception, but that happened rarely. He was working on another book – you know that as well as more generalised works, he wrote astrological forecasts every year for each of the sun signs?”

Rafferty nodded. He'd seen them on sale in the shops – his Ma bought one every year, as did his sisters. They seemed very popular. But then Jasper Moon had been a popular astrologer. The walls of the waiting room beside Moon's office displayed the monthly forecast columns he supplied to various women's glossy magazines. Rafferty persisted. “Might he have forgotten to enter a later appointment? If the client rang after everyone else had gone home, say, and intended to arrive within a short time?”

Reluctantly, Astell admitted it was possible. “Jasper could be careless about such things. But he's been better lately as I've impressed on him that if he doesn't enter the details I can't bill the clients. Jasper preferred to have his regular clients invoiced rather than charged cash at the time of the consultation. He felt financial transactions then were unprofessional.”

Too much like having his palm crossed with silver on the end of the pier, Rafferty sardonically translated before he could stop himself. Luckily, Astell was staring thoughtfully into space and unlikely to guess at Rafferty's latest breach of the PIMP code.

“You could ask our cleaner, Mrs Hadleigh. She was working here till about 7.00 p m. She'd be able to confirm that there
was
no client with Jasper.”

Astell seemed anxious to dispel the idea that one of Moon's clients had killed him. Understandable of course, Rafferty reasoned; the more sensitive souls amongst their customers wouldn't be reassured to discover that Moon numbered a killer among his clientele. Apart from any other considerations, it was hardly likely to improve customer confidence when the famous half of the partnership had failed to foresee and avoid his own murder.

There were
two other doors off the landing, and Rafferty asked where they led. Astell placed his gloved hands together in the precise manner that was already getting on Rafferty's nerves and nodded towards the first of the doors on the left. “This office is used by one of our staff, Mrs Virginia Campbell. The other one is used as a storeroom for any overflow of stock from the shop.” He opened each of the doors in turn. The second room contained books and fancily packaged bottles of oil, CDs, records and cassettes, all stacked on wall shelves, along with many other items. An old easel, stained and shoved just inside the door, was balanced precariously against the wall and Astell straightened it with a gesture of annoyance. “I must throw this old thing away. I don't know why Jasper insisted on keeping it.”

“Not yet, please,” Rafferty cautioned. “I don't want anything discarded until the case is concluded.”

Astell nodded and went on. “As you know, the room between my office and Jasper's is used as a waiting room.”

“Do you employ a receptionist?”

“No. The nature of the work hardly warrants it. Mrs Mercedes Moreno, the woman we employ in the shop, directs our clients to the waiting room. She's from South America,” Astell explained the unusual name. “Peru.”

“And they're the only other people that work here?”

Astell nodded. “Apart from Mrs Hadleigh, the cleaner. She comes in at about 7.00 every morning.”

Rafferty frowned. “I understood that you found the body when you came in at 7.30 a m. Or did you only make the call?”

“No. I found him. I had an early booking with one of my few regulars – she likes to see me on her way to the station. Mrs Hadleigh had a hospital appointment yesterday morning so I agreed she could do her chores in the evening, from 5.00 to 7.00 p m. My wife and I had a few guests last night and Mrs Hadleigh came over afterwards to help out. Unfortunately, she was only there a short time before she began to feel unwell. I sent her home just before 8.00 p m. Naturally, I told her not to bother coming in this morning. I tried to ring Jasper last night to tell him that if he made his usual mess he'd have to clean it up himself. He can – could be rather untidy.”

“You say you tried to ring Mr Moon? At what time?”

Astell nodded. “I'm sorry. I suppose I should have mentioned it before. I didn't get through. The first few times I tried, Jasper's phone was engaged, and then, when it did ring, no-one answered.” His eyes widened, aghast at the implication of what he'd just said. “God, I never thought...so many things going round and round in my mind. I suppose he must have died around then. How – horrible.”

“What time would this have been, sir?” Rafferty asked again.

“What?” Although still obviously stunned, Astell managed to pull himself together sufficiently to answer Rafferty's question. “It was at 8.20 p m. That's right. I'd just made Mrs Moreno a cup of coffee – she had forgotten her gloves and returned about ten minutes earlier. I remember as the clock in the hall had just rung the quarter chime – it tends to be five minutes slow.” Rafferty made a mental note of the time. As Astell had surmised, it could be important. Whether Moon's killer had called someone from his office, or whether the phone had just become dislodged from its rest during the attack and the killer had replaced it, the phone company should be able to tell them.

Astell, his voice slow and disjointed after this latest shock, explained, “I didn't want-want his first client to turn up and encounter Jas-Jasper's usual shambles, you see.” He broke off and after glancing at his watch, said in a more normal voice, “It hardly matters now, does it? Still, I suppose I should ring and put them off? Though what I can possibly say to them...”

“Don't worry about that, sir. One of my officers will contact them.” Rafferty nodded to Llewellyn, who disappeared. “You mentioned you had a client this morning. Did you ask her to leave when you found the body?”

Astell shook his head and looked cross with himself. “Sorry. No. Didn't I explain? She rang to cancel, so I decided I might as well get on with some work. It was then that I found Jasper's body. I needed some stamps – as you saw, they're kept in the cashbox.”

After obtaining this client's name and address, Rafferty went on, “You said Mrs Hadleigh would have finished cleaning at about 7.00 p m yesterday?”

“That's right. She usually did a full two hours. One hour on the consulting floor and the other in the shop.”

“And how long has she worked here?”

“Only about three weeks, but I've known her for some years. As well as helping out when we entertain, my wife and I employ her to clean our home. When our last cleaner left I offered her this job. I knew she needed the money, you see. She was pleased to accept.”

Rafferty glanced at his watch, and was surprised to find that it was nearly 9.15 a m. “What time do your other employees normally arrive?”

“The shop doesn't open until till 9.30 a m, so Mrs Moreno doesn't arrive till then, but Mrs Campbell starts at nine.”

Virginia Campbell should have arrived by now. So where was she? Rafferty wondered. “Has she perhaps got a day off today?”

“No.” Astell frowned. “At least, if she has, I was unaware of it. She was off yesterday. Jasper might have agreed to her having today off as well. He didn't always remember to tell me if it was a last minute thing.”

“I'll need her phone number, sir. If she is coming in today and hasn't already left home, it would be best if she didn't come in at all. The forensic team will be working here for some time yet.”

“Of course. You can use the telephone in my office.”

Rafferty followed him back along the short corridor, and through the comfortable anteroom. Like Moon's office, this too had a television and video, presumably for amusing waiting clients. This television was undamaged. “I gather Mrs Campbell's a professional astrologer?”

“That's right. She and her husband had their own astrology consultancy, but their business folded when they divorced. She brought a few clients with her when she joined us, but she mainly helps me on the postal side. She also covers in the shop when Mrs Moreno is at lunch or has a day off.”

“And Mrs Moreno? Tell me about her.”

“Mrs Moreno's a widow. She just works in the shop and has nothing to do with the main work of the consultancy.”

“Have Mrs Moreno and Mrs Campbell worked here long?”