Honeytrap: Part 3 (3 page)

‘Do you? Do you really? You’ve just managed to wreck my relationship. Do you understand that? He knows now, doesn’t he? He knows what I did. How am I going to explain why …’ She briefly sank her head into her hands before glaring up at Harry again. ‘Jesus Christ!’

Harry suspected that things were going to get worse before they got better – that’s if they ever got better. ‘As I said, we can’t be certain. But we felt we had to inform you just in case. The man in question has hinted, has suggested, that he told Mr Keynes about the honeytrap on Saturday night.’

‘Well, it’s not bloody good enough! You’re supposed to be a detective agency, aren’t you? Surely you can find out one way or the other.’

‘He could simply be trying to cause trouble.’

Sarah Thorne bared her teeth and hissed. ‘Trouble? This isn’t just trouble. This is a stinking major disaster.’

‘Has there been any … any indication that Mr Keynes does know? Any change in his behaviour, for example?’

‘He’s not going to tell me, is he? He’s not stupid.’ She slapped her palms down on the desk. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do now? Just tell me that.’

Harry didn’t have any helpful answers to the question. ‘What we are sure of is that he hasn’t called the girl. To date, he hasn’t made any attempt to get in contact with her.’

Sarah Thorne winced at this piece of information. ‘Which means he knows. He definitely does. He must.’

‘Or he just isn’t interested.’

The woman gave a snort. ‘He’s always bloody interested. He can’t stop himself. Show him a piece of skirt and … No, the only reason he hasn’t called is because he knows it’s a set-up.’

Harry couldn’t help wondering why she even wanted to salvage the relationship with Keynes. What was the point? She clearly didn’t trust him. However, he’d been in the business long enough to realise that you could never fathom other people’s love affairs. ‘It might be wise not to do anything rash. We’ll keep you informed of any developments.’

Sarah Thorne jumped up out of her chair, her body taut and her eyes full of fury. ‘That’s the best you can offer, is it? My life’s falling apart and you’ll “keep me informed”. Well, it’s not good enough, not by a long chalk, and if you think you’re getting away with it you’re completely out of your mind.’

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she was already across the room and yanking open the door.

‘You’ll be hearing from my solicitors,’ she snapped without looking back. She stormed across reception, almost barging into Jess who was standing by the coffee machine, and stomped down the stairs.

Jess walked over to Harry’s office, raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘Another satisfied customer.’

‘That was Sarah Thorne,’ he said.

‘Ah.’

‘Ah, indeed. A very unhappy Sarah Thorne, as you may have observed.’

Jess went in, closed the door behind her and sat down. ‘I’m not surprised. She’s in a tricky position.’

‘As she made patently clear.’

‘I’m not sure what I’d do in her shoes. Does she come clean or just keep quiet and hope that Brett Rush is lying? It’s a tough one.’

‘Do you think he could have been lying?’

Jess considered it. ‘He might have been, but he’s bitter enough to have done it. For a man who claims that
he
finished the relationship, he still seems weirdly obsessed with Sylvie. I mean, he’s obviously been following her around. And how did he even get into that reception? It was ticket only and you know what the bloke on the door was like.’

Harry picked up a pencil and rolled it between his fingers. Sarah Thorne had provided the two tickets for Mackenzie, Lind to use. ‘Maybe he slipped the guy a sweetener, a score or the like. Most doormen don’t earn that much. And who’s going to notice one extra person in there? Or perhaps Brett just waited for the right opportunity and managed to get in without being seen.’

‘I suppose. So did you ask Sarah where her boyfriend went after he left Wilder’s?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it was a short conversation and she did most of the talking. And anyway, why are you still so convinced that Keynes is in the frame? I’d have thought Brett Rush was a more likely suspect. He sounds like a man with a grudge, and he had just as much opportunity.’

‘I just … I don’t know. I suppose I’m working on the premise that he wouldn’t have been so openly angry and bitter if he’d actually done something to her. He didn’t even try and hide how he felt. Wouldn’t he have behaved differently if he was directly responsible for her disappearance?’

‘Perhaps. Unless he’s trying to shift the focus on to Keynes.’

‘Except you don’t even believe that Sylvie is missing.’

‘I’m speaking theoretically.’

Jess frowned at him. ‘Even though she didn’t turn up for college today? And what about this whole phone business? You don’t think that’s odd? If I’d lost my phone, I’d be trying to find it. She hasn’t even called Lorna to see if it’s shown up.’

‘It hasn’t – I asked Guy Wilder – but it’s not that odd that Sylvie isn’t bothered. It’s a work phone, one we provided. She won’t need it again until she has another job. The girls don’t use them for anything personal because all the texts come through to the office.

She’ll have another one, I’m sure.’

‘But you don’t have the number?’

‘We always contact them on the work phone. That’s the way we operate. We’ve got a landline number for her, but she hasn’t replied to any messages. It looks like she hasn’t been home yet. But it’s only Monday. If she’s been staying with a friend or a boyfriend, she could still be with them.’

‘And what about college?’

‘What about it? Maybe she’s had a bellyful of Brett Rush, especially if he’s been following her around. She could be trying to avoid him for a while. Or maybe she’s been partying and just didn’t feel up to it.’

Jess put her elbows on the table and stared at him. ‘And what if Joshua Keynes is holding her somewhere? Or if he’s already …’

She didn’t need to finish the sentence for Harry to understand what she meant. He was about to protest, to wave her worries aside, but suddenly recalled how he’d felt when the police had turned up and told him about a body being found. His first thought then had been that it was Sylvie. ‘So what are you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking we should follow Keynes, see where he goes. He’s an estate agent so he must have access to lots of properties. And you’re right, we should probably check out Brett too.’

‘What’s with the “we”?’

‘You owe me,’ Jess said. ‘I followed Ellen Shaw for you, remember? How did that go, by the way?’

Harry pulled a face. ‘Not as well as it could have, and now she’s done a moonlight flit so God knows where she is.’

‘Oh.’

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘Isn’t this where you say that it’s probably for the best.’

Jess gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. ‘It didn’t even cross my mind.’

‘Of course it didn’t.’

She quickly changed the subject. ‘So are you going to help me look for Sylvie? A few days, that’s all I’m asking.’

Harry flipped the pencil on to the desk, picked it up again and gave a sigh. On balance, he decided that it was probably wiser to work with Jess than leave her to her own devices. There was no knowing what she might do or who she might upset. He’d already had one threat of legal action today and didn’t fancy another. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked, getting to his feet. ‘You’re not going to find her sitting here.’

Surveillance looked easy on TV. After all, how hard could it be to follow someone around? As it happened, the answer was ‘very hard’. Jess had been parked up in Hampstead, near the office of Musgrove & Keynes, for the best part of the afternoon. Twice she had found herself in the position of trying to tail Joshua Keynes without being noticed, a tricky task when you were juggling with the problems of keeping a reasonable distance – at least a couple of cars back – and not losing him completely. Traffic lights had proved her downfall on the second occasion when the red Porsche swept across a junction just as the lights changed to amber, and she was left cursing as the car disappeared from view.

With no other choice, Jess had returned to her original parking space to wait for his return. This had happened half an hour later – hopefully he had just been conducting another viewing – and since then things had gone quiet. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was four-thirty. The office closed at five and this would be the most likely time for Keynes to lead her to Sylvie.

‘Please God, give me something,’ she murmured. ‘Help me out here.’

The trouble with surveillance, other than the practical side, was that it gave you too many hours to think. Her head was full of winding threads: Sylvie and the crowded bar at Wilder’s, Joshua Keynes making a furtive phone call outside his house, Valerie Middleton sniping at Harry, and the cold angry eyes of Brett Rush. She wondered how Harry was getting on with following the latter. Earlier, they’d gone together to Farnborough College and she had pointed out Brett to him.

And then there was that other nagging problem, the one she really didn’t want to think about. Jess screwed up her eyes as she mentally replayed the conversation she’d had with Neil last night. He’d been asked to stay on in Liverpool for another six months. Of course he wouldn’t consider it (he said) if she wasn’t happy about the situation, but it was a good opportunity and he’d like to take it if he could.

‘Of course you must,’ she’d said too brightly. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘Why don’t you take some time off, come and stay for a week?’

‘Yeah, that sounds good. I will once I’ve got everything sorted here.’

Jess had a sneaking suspicion he might want to stay in Liverpool permanently. And what was going to happen then? They couldn’t commute between two cities for the rest of their lives. Something would have to give and she had the feeling it might be their relationship. She didn’t want to leave – she loved living in the capital – but eventually it could come down to a choice between London and Neil.

Jess stared through the windscreen, not wanting to ponder on this unwelcome development. She would deal with it later when she had less on her mind. Instead she concentrated on the door of the estate agent, willing Keynes to show his face again.

‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘Give me a break.’

It was five-fifteen before he finally strutted out and climbed into the Porsche. Determined not to lose him this time, Jess started the engine and prepared to follow. The one good thing about the jammed-up streets of London was that Keynes couldn’t use the speed and power of his car to outrun her. On the motorway she wouldn’t have stood a chance of keeping up.

‘Don’t be going home,’ she muttered as they set off. She couldn’t bear the thought of having sat around all afternoon and achieved absolutely nothing. Well, nothing apart from a few snatched photographs. Surely, if he was holding Sylvie, he would have to go and see her at some point. ‘Let it be now. Come on, Joshua, show me where she is.’

It was a relief when he ignored the turning that led back to his house and instead began heading for Swiss Cottage. The traffic was rush-hour slow, bumper to bumper, and she let another car get between the two of them. It was a further fifteen minutes before he indicated left and turned on to the forecourt of a small square two-storey block of flats. Jess carried on past, pulling up as soon as she could find a space.

Quickly, she got out of the Mini, locked it and jogged back. She was just in time to see Keynes going in through the glass door, into the foyer and up the staircase. He wasn’t carrying any papers and there was no ‘For Sale’ sign outside the building. It was possible, however, that he was there to do a valuation. The last job of the day? Or maybe this had nothing to do with business.

Jess slowed as she approached the door, wary of bumping into him if he suddenly doubled back. But she couldn’t retreat now. There was an intercom system and she checked the buzzers but all they had on them were the numbers of the flats, one to four. Well, she knew she could rule out the two on the ground floor – he’d definitely gone upstairs – so that only left three and four.

She tried the door but it was locked. What next? She couldn’t loiter there indefinitely, at least not without looking suspicious, and so decided to go and get the car instead. If she parked across the road, she’d be able to see him when he came out.

Jess spent the next fifty minutes staring at the block of flats. She studied all the upstairs windows but there was no sign of life and it was too early for the lights to be on. She listened to music – Emmylou Harris’s
Wrecking Ball
– and twiddled her thumbs. With every minute that passed she became more convinced that this wasn’t anything to do with business.

It was well over an hour before Keynes finally appeared again. He walked out of the building in his familiar strutting style and climbed back into his car. While he talked on the phone, Jess tried to figure out what to do next. She was tempted to wait until he’d driven off and then try to gain entry to the flats, but decided that this was probably too risky. What if he had an accomplice? Keynes had taken a cab on Saturday night so how had he got her here? Maybe he had help.

She turned on the engine, wanting to be prepared as she juggled with the options. Stay or go? All she was certain of was that she shouldn’t do anything reckless. If she started banging on doors, no one was likely to answer – but they might take off as soon as she was gone and hide Sylvie somewhere else. Or do something worse. No, she should leave well alone until she had reinforcements. If the girl was inside, her priority was to keep her safe. Nothing was more important than that.

With this thought in mind, Jess pulled out as the Porsche exited the forecourt, and began following behind. She felt guilty about leaving, sick at the thought of what Sylvie might be going through, but knew it was for the best. She had the address now. She could come back later with Harry or the police.

When it became clear that Keynes was heading back to Hampstead she gave up on the tail and set off in the direction of Kellston instead. She didn’t want him to spot her. And anyway, there was someone else she wanted to see before the day was over.