Kith and Kill (13 page)

Abra laughed. ‘You're the only one in your family who doesn't, then.’

‘More than my career's worth, my sweet.’

‘So that's why I never saw that plasma telly your ma bought us for our wedding. You never did tell me what you did with it.’

‘Mickey was kind enough to take it off my hands.’

‘Generous of him.’

‘Wasn't it?’

Abra reached out for her steaming mug and sipped her tea. ‘So what have you got on today? Are you likely to be late?’

‘Don't think so. Unless something comes up.’

‘’”Unless something comes up”. The copper's perennial cry. Covers everything really. From mistresses to multiple murders.’

‘No mistresses for me. Don't you think I've enough women in my life? And all of them uncontrollable.’

‘A Stepford Wife I aint. So don't try to control me.’

‘Wouldn't dare. If you've got time, can you give my two brothers a ring today? Try to get them on side and plumping for the dating agency. Just in case the girls change their minds and decide to plump for jewellery instead. I don't want it moving from a stalemate to an odds-on certainty for stolen jewellery. I'm not sure of my ability to persuade them to go the legal route to buy it.’

‘Why can't you do it? They're your brothers.’

‘ I don't possess your feminine charms.’

‘You mean you want me to flirt with them?’

‘If you'd be so kind. No need to go overboard. I don't want to come home and find Mickey seducing you on our superior settee. Never get the stains out of the leather, for one thing.’

‘Oh, you! Go on, then. I'll give it a go. Just don't be surprised if they think I'm making a play for them.’

‘I'll leave it to your discretion. I'm sure you can do subtle. If you try really hard.’

‘Unlike you, you mean. Go to work before you get a tea shower.’

Rafferty made for the door at a brisk pace. ‘See you later. Kiss. Kiss.’

Rafferty glanced
at his watch. He was late. He'd arranged to meet Llewellyn at the family's business premises at three o'clock. It was already ten past. He hurried out to the car park, got in the car and put his foot down once out of the station gates and into Bacon Lane.

L’oiseau
was housed in an elegant Edwardian mansion out by East Hill. Rafferty had noticed it before during his travels around the town, so he had little difficulty in finding it. Not that the building could be said to exactly hide itself away. In the forecourt was a giant sign in the shape of a bird of paradise, with the words “
L’oiseau
. Designer to the stars”, proudly inscribed in elegant script on the bird's furled wing. The bay windows of the house had been utilized for display purposes and several stylish gowns, worn by an assortment of nose in the air mannequins, were exhibited.

Llewellyn was sitting in his car in the forecourt, looking resigned and reading some heavy tome. Rafferty tapped on the window and when Llewellyn lowered it, he said, ‘You should get yourself a Kindle or an iPad and save your wrists. Anyway, I've come to save the rest of you from what looks like the dullest book in the history of dull books. Put it away and let's go get ourselves deep into some model's embonpoint.’

‘Hardly worth the effort, surely? They don't call them size zeros for nothing.’

‘Hey, he cracked a funny. Still, good point. Forget the models.’ Rafferty made for the front door and tugged the old-fashioned bell-pull. ‘We'll speak to the office staff and the designers. They're the ones, I would think, who worked most closely with Sophia Egerton. Her secretary's likely to be well up in the gossip on the factory floor.’

‘Factory floor? I doubt the family would like the term. They make designer garments, not widgets.’

‘Widgets, wodgits or high end fashion. It's all the same. Doesn't matter what you call them. The staff will still have all the gossip on the family and how well or otherwise they worked together. We've just got to get one of them on our side and we'll have an in. Surely someone will be eager to get Sophia justice?’

Rafferty's ring was answered by a willowy male, of about thirty, dressed from head to toe in deepest black. He even had a black armband, which struck Rafferty as a good sign. Fewer and fewer people donned mourning garb in this day and age. Not unless they felt very strongly about the deceased.

Once the introductions were out of the way, the male model type who told them his name was Justin Pemberton, led them upstairs to a spacious office at the front of the house.

‘This was Dear Sophia's office. I thought you'd want to talk to me here.’

‘And you are?’

‘I'm her secretary, dear. We worked very closely together. I was very fond of Sophia. She knew what she wanted. She was good for
L’oiseau.
Our customer base increased four-fold once she took the helm. Or so I understand from the accountant.’ Justin's thin, cadaverous face, pinched. ‘I really don't know what we're going to do without her.’ He waved at them. ‘But sit down, do. Would you like coffee?’

Rafferty shook his head at the offer and subsided onto one of the elegant and surprisingly comfortable chairs that were arranged in a semi-circle around Sophia's desk. Justin took his late employer's chair, a starkly plain piece of Shaker. Rafferty was surprised he recognized the make. But since buying their first house together, he and Abra had studied many catalogues and Shaker
type
furniture had featured often. He didn't doubt that this was the real McCoy.

‘Now, are you comfortable? Shall we begin?’

Rafferty was amused that Justin Pemberton seemed to have assumed that, since he sat in his late employer's chair, that he was the boss of the interview. However, he decided to let him have his head. They might learn more that way. ‘Tell me about Mrs Egerton. What was she like, both as a person and as an employer?’

‘Oh, she was a lovely lady. Very good to the staff. Mind, she expected service in return. She was a perfectionist and had a very strict quality control system in place. Rightly so, in my opinion. We're only as good as our last garment. We've dressed royalty and Hollywood stars, you know. Only the best for the best, that was Sophia's motto.’

‘You liked her, then?’ Justin nodded. ‘What about her family? I understand they also work here. What are their roles?’

‘Adam Chambers is on the design side. He has a flair. Besides, he's been to St Martin's where he studied art and design. He's really very talented. Then there's Eric. He works in the accounts department. Penny, well Penny tends to float around, helping out here and there. She hasn't got a designated job. Actually, come to think of it, you wouldn't think she had any kind of job at all, she's here so seldom. Then, there's Caroline. She deals with publicity and marketing. She organizes our fashion shows.’

‘Has there been any bad feeling over business matters amongst the family, Justin? Something more than the usual petty office politics.’

Justin's thin neck with its large Adam's Apple rose out of his collar and his voice lowered even though there was no one but them to hear him. ‘There have been one or two conflagrations lately.’

‘Tell me about them,’ Rafferty invited.

Needing no second invitation, Justin Pemberton leaned forward eagerly. ‘One of them was between Adam and Sophia. Adam wanted the firm to give our male couture line more prominence. He thought Sophia's preference for concentrating on the female fashion side was losing us business. So did Eric, for that matter. Although he's not got Adam's grasp of style matters, he does have a good understanding of money matters and he knows that young males with money want their designer gear, just like the ladies. Sophia was rather old-fashioned like that; she didn't think men should be fashion plates and rather disapproved of most of Adam's proposed plans for the business. She thought his designs for the male line too flamboyant and always rejected them.’

‘Yet she bequeathed her controlling share to him. Don't you think that was rather perverse of her?’

‘Did she? Well, well. There'll have been some noses put out of joint at that decision. But perverse? Oh no. Not at all. Sophia might have been old-fashioned, but she believed firmly in one person at the helm. She'd had her ideas for the direction
L’oiseau
should take and she had driven it firmly in that direction. She wanted someone who would be equally firm to take over when she either stood down or died. She must have believed Adam was that person. He certainly has the firm ideas, even if they weren't to Sophia's taste.’

‘Did Eric join in these arguments?’

‘No. I suppose he could see it couldn't be too long before we came to the stage of “The king is dead. Long live the king.” He must have suspected that Adam was the coming man, but he thought his brother should fight his own battles. Besides, Sophia was in good health and might have lived another ten years and Eric never wanted to get on Sophia's wrong side.’

‘Why's that?’

‘He always made sure he sought her approval for everything he did. I think he desperately wanted to find favour in her eyes. But he never quite managed it. Eric just wasn't her sort of man, I suppose. He had no style.’ Justin laughed. ‘Did you know he has half a dozen grey suits which he wears, day in, day out, never varying. Talk about the original grey accountant.’

‘Yet if he wanted to please his grandmother, why didn't he wear more stylish suits?’

‘I think he wanted to, but something inside wouldn't let him take that one further step. They're a perverse family in many ways. Always seem to take the hard road.’

‘What about Sophia's sister, Alice Pickford? Did you see much of her?’

‘No. Oh she tried to muscle in when Sophia's husband died, but Sophia put her firmly in her place. They had a showdown in here, as it happens. I was still at school then, of course, but I've heard about it from some of the older members of staff. You'll want to talk to Caroline's secretary, Kim Hurley. Kim's been holding the ravening hordes of the press at bay since the news broke, with some help from yours truly. She's leaving the calls for the ansafone for now. They've exhausted her. Do you want to see her now, or would you prefer to meet the rest of the staff?’

‘I'd like to see round the factory floor first and meet the seamstresses and designers.’

‘Okay.’ Justin thrust his stick-like body upwards out of the chair and made for the door. ‘We'd better hurry. They'll be wanting to go home soon. Hubby's tea to get and all that, you know.’

‘The people who make the dresses are mostly women?’

‘Oh yes. Sophia insisted on it and blow to the Equal Opportunities Act. She always said that women had a more delicate touch. As you probably know, all our garments are hand-sewn, some with intricate embroidery. For the actual design side, she preferred men, though she also did some of the designs herself and always approved what formed part of our new season's line and what didn't.’

By now they were out on the first floor landing. Justin led them down the ornate, curving stairs to the ground floor and to the back of the house. Here, they found a big room, a conservatory with a large domed top, ensuring the room was flooded with light. It was full of long tables, with about twenty women seated at them, garments at various stages of development spread out before them and mannequins in various stages of undress scattered about the room. All the women looked up expectantly when Justin led them into the room. He clapped his hands theatrically for attention, though there was surely no need as the room was quiet, but for the sound of BBC Radio 2 playing in the background. The hum of conversation died at their arrival.

‘These are the police ladies.’ Justin introduced them , then said, ‘Inspector Rafferty wants to talk to you about Sophia.’ He turned to Rafferty, said, ‘they're all yours,’ and took a step back.

Rafferty thanked him and looked round at the sea of faces. Most were middle-aged, but there were one or two younger ones, in their teens, who Rafferty assumed were being apprenticed to the trade.

He smiled round at everyone and said, ‘You'll all have heard the news. So I'll just confirm it for any of you who still aren't entirely sure of what happened to Mrs Egerton. She was murdered in her sleep.’ He didn't mention the knife attack that had taken place afterwards. ‘Do any of you have any questions?’

One lady in her forties held her hand up.

‘Yes? What would you like to know?’

‘Is it true that one of the family did it? I heard it happened at Mrs Egerton's birthday party and it was only the family who received invites. None of us did, did we girls?’

There was a murmuring and a shaking of heads.

‘It's true that an outsider was unlikely to have gained access.’

A gasp went round the room at this and another hand shot up. A young woman in her twenties this time.

‘Wh…what'll happen to us? I mean now that Mrs Egerton's gone.’

‘As to that, I have no idea. You'll need to speak to Mr Adam Chambers for any reassurances about your future.’

‘Why Adam?’ another asked without bothering to raise her hand.

‘He's the heir,’ Rafferty explained, feeling rather that he was usurping the solicitor's role or that of Adam himself who should perhaps be here to speak to the workforce. But he wasn't here and Rafferty was, so he continued. ‘He has inherited Mrs Egerton's controlling interest so will be your new boss.’