Staging Death (18 page)

A flicker across his face acknowledged the hit. To disguise it he jotted. ‘And your brother’s actual response?’

‘He pointed out that, in these straitened times, a client was a client. But I did moan at him about his record keeping. We’re supposed to make a file for every enquiry – the client’s phone, address, estate agent’s address if he claims he’s sold his property, and anything else that could be useful. If he’s from overseas, and a lot of people seeking the top-of-the-range houses my brother sells are, then we need UK details – the number and
supplier of their hire car, for instance.’

‘All very efficient,’ he murmured approvingly.

‘Quite. If it’s done properly, or indeed at all.’

‘Are you telling me that it isn’t?’

‘When you’re selling houses in the current climate, you don’t necessarily want to irritate a potential buyer by asking questions he may see as intrusive. Of course, should he make an offer, all the legal stuff is obligatory, and no corners can be cut. The solicitors involved see to that.’

‘So I should hope.’ Absent-mindedly he reached for a sandwich. ‘And who should record all the details of would-be buyers, Ms Burford?’

‘I take no part in the administration. All I do is make courtesy phone calls after the viewings. Ostensibly it’s to get feedback on the property. In reality it’s to encourage the punter to see the place again – or maybe another property on our books. And that’s another thing! Hell, why didn’t I think of this before? I’m sorry, Chief Inspector, I’m not usually such a muddle-head. Although we did get phone details of some of the people involved, including the hotels where they were supposed to be staying, they never got back to us. Or the numbers weren’t pukka. Or when I did get through, on one occasion, I got my ears blown off by a stream of invective. All the numbers are on the computer system at the office down the road.’ I managed a rueful grin. ‘My brother is not
going to enjoy this. I hope I don’t lose my job.’

He rubbed his chin in a way that clearly indicated he was going to ask me something I wouldn’t like. At the last moment, however, he shifted in his seat. Another, different question was coming up.

‘Do you think the Zhubovs realised you were on to them?’

‘They knew I didn’t trust them.’ I got up and paced the room in a mixture of anger and despair. ‘You know, they – the whole team – took me for such a sucker they kept asking for me, knowing I wouldn’t argue when they split up,’ I explained. ‘Knowing they could bully me. A man might have stood up to them. Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have reported all this so much earlier.’

‘You might have got exactly the response you predicted,’ he said, still seated.

‘I might. Who knows?’ And just as I was about to bury my face in my hands, something clicked in my brain. ‘But there is one thing – one of my friends in a rival agency has a photo on her phone of two of them. Mr and Mrs Turovsky. Oh, dear – they were the only couple I really liked. I truly didn’t want them to be involved. Anyway, I happened to see them outside her office window, and we hatched a plan to intercept them. I bet she’s got a good mugshot.’

He gestured. I was to sit again. ‘Excellent. The
downside is that they may know for sure we’re on to them.’

Shaking my head, I told him about my ditzy performance and Heather’s quiet, unobtrusive efficiency. ‘They didn’t want to hang around once they’d seen me. In fact, I think one made a call to the other. They made some excuse about her mother being ill and bolted. This is Heather’s direct line.’ I passed my mobile across. ‘My little machine isn’t up to receiving photos, but I bet yours is.’

Eventually Martin Humpage went on his way, but I was joined by DC French, who responded to my instant request for a loo with a predictable smile.

‘Have you any more tea bags?’ she asked when I was seated in the vivid interview room again. Clearly my penchant for green tea had been mentioned offstage.

‘This is my last,’ I said, holding it up. ‘But I’m prepared to sacrifice it.’

The mug of hot water duly appeared.

‘There is one thing worrying me,’ I told her. ‘It’s now clear to me that the people we’re dealing with know where I live. I haven’t had just flowers, I’ve had a silent phone call and an envelope addressed to me with nothing inside. And someone nearly knocked me off my bike, though that could just have been some stupid
prick not seeing me through his overtinted windows. I suppose, with the benefit of hindsight, all these events were warnings.’

She nodded. ‘Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty.’

‘I suppose they could have tailed me from work,’ I mused. ‘Have you seen the way Burford’s have their company cars painted?’

‘It would be hard not to. But you have your own car too. You wouldn’t have to use that pink object.’

‘It’s the most anonymous I could get,’ I agreed. ‘But the Zhubovs in particular had plenty of opportunity to see it and record the number, too. I feel…vulnerable, Karen. But I can’t afford to stop working and go on holiday somewhere nice. Nor do I want to go on a witness protection scheme where I abandon all my friends and contacts. I’m an actress, for goodness’ sake – appearing in public and drawing attention to myself are my bread and butter.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll talk about it to the DCI. Is there anywhere you could stay for a short time? Somewhere more secure? Your brother’s place?’ Karen prompted. ‘I bet an estate agent would have a whopping great place. Plenty of room for a refugee sister. And good security, I’ll bet.’

I nodded. ‘I have to feed the piranhas in the moat when I house-sit for him. But I don’t know that I’d be very welcome there, not in the circumstances.’

‘I’ll talk to the DCI,’ she said.

As if on cue, Martin Humpage popped his head into the interview room, and asked, ‘Would you mind hanging on just a bit longer, Ms Burford? I’ve asked your brother to come in to talk to us. I think we need to draw up a plan of action together. All of us, including you, Karen. It’d be nice to save his business as well as your skin.’

‘I don’t think he’ll argue with that,’ I said.

Nor did he. Though it was clear he felt a visit to a common cop shop was humiliating, he was enough of a working-class lad to respond to authority when it spoke in the firm tones of Humpage, now very much a responsible senior officer in his demeanour.

‘A drugs ring. Poking their noses into the properties I’m handling. And you want me to continue to market them as if nothing has happened. And put my little sister at risk.’ Every
phrase demanded an exclamation mark. Perhaps three.

Keeping his voice low and level, Martin said, ‘The last thing I wish to do is expose your sister to further harm, Mr Burford. Which is why we’ve asked the two of you to discuss what can be done. The first issue is moving you, Ms Burford, away from your home. If your car was vulnerable, then think how much more at risk a house is.’

Greg took a deep breath.

So did I. He might not be the best of brothers, but I didn’t want him to expose himself by declaring to the world that I wasn’t the sort of person he entertained in his home. ‘Mr Humpage, much as I’m sure Greg would like to have me move in with him, I’m not going to. Not if there’s the slightest risk that my being there could put his family in any sort of danger.’

Greg managed an expression that combined guilt and gratitude. ‘It’s the children, see…’

‘We have safe houses. They’re not the nicest of places but we hope Ms Burford won’t need to spend long there,’ Humpage said crisply. He jotted. My accommodation problem had been solved, willy-nilly. He looked as if he was about to say something else, probably unpalatable.

‘You have a plan, don’t you?’ I raised limpid eyes to his.

‘I do have a possibility I’d like to float. We
would dearly love to catch these people in the act. What we’re going to do,’ he said, ‘is replace all the packages – or something very like them – in the cisterns in all three properties so that the pickups can be made. This will enable us to catch anyone making the pickup in the act.’

‘So you want Greg to continue to offer the houses for sale, and me to be the one showing people round?’

Greg shook his head. ‘So far as we keep showing other people round, that’s fine. Because what our agency wants is a sale. But isn’t Vee taking a hell of a risk? I don’t want her death on my conscience, and that’s a fact.’

Humpage registered the Blackheath squeak, and flicked a minute glance at me. ‘Neither do we, Mr Burford.’

‘It’d cause all sorts of inconvenient internal enquiries,’ I observed, with a sage nod.

The two police officers found something on the floor that required their attention.

‘I suppose I could train up one of your officers to do Vee’s job,’ Greg continued. ‘But she’d have to learn bloody fast. Our Vee’s top of the trees, make no mistake. She can sell freezers to Eskimos, if you ask me.’ Poor Greg – he really was getting mightily stressed.

‘I could always come back as someone else,’ I said slowly.

‘As in Buddhism?’ Karen put in, looking genuinely puzzled.

‘I didn’t mean to go as far as reincarnation,’ I said, not daring to catch Humpage’s eye. ‘I meant that as an actress I have certain skills at my disposal. And props. I’m used to wearing different coloured contact lenses, to having my hair a different cut and colour.’ And to the devil with the Mediterranean soap opera Caddie had mooted. ‘I can change my clothes, my walk, even my voice. And still sell houses. Hell, you’re not keeping me out of the action now. And surely I’d be useful, having met some of these guys before.’

Humpage shook his head. ‘You say you’ve never seen the same couple twice. Except the Turovskys, and they were in a different agency.’

Greg’s head shot up.

‘Heather’s,’ I said, parenthetically. ‘We’d had lunch together.’ At least he had the sense not to expostulate now. ‘What do you think of the idea, Chief Inspector? Would it work?’

‘I’ll have to take it to my superiors,’ he said. ‘I agree with your brother that it’s very risky.’ Not that Greg had said anything of the sort, but he ought to have done and he looked flattered. ‘You wouldn’t be alone this time, of course – when the punters got there they’d find a gardener or some other tradesman working on the place. For gardener read police officer, of course.’

‘I take it I’d have to wear a microphone, just in case of any trouble?’

‘No. That’s not how it’s done these days. Just imagine the worst-case scenario. One of the punters suddenly gets suspicious and decides to search you. He finds a mike: what does he think?’

I drew an index finger across my throat. ‘OK, no mike. But you’ll have other gizmos?’

‘Exactly. The rooms will be bugged, and where it’s possible hidden cameras installed.’ It had become the straight future tense, I noticed, not the conditional voice.

He might still have to refer everything upstairs, but there was no doubt he was prepared to take the risk.

‘But in the meantime Vena really shouldn’t stay on her own in her cottage,’ Karen said.

‘My cottage is actually a semi on a council estate with a couple of CCTV cameras already in place,’ I said, studiously ignoring any exchange of glances between the police officers. ‘My neighbours aren’t all necessarily the most law-abiding of God’s creatures, despite Neighbourhood Watch’s best efforts. Hey, do you suppose the council would still have the DVD or tape or whatever of whoever broke into my car?’ My smile was quite unfeigned.

Karen’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline
and she was on her feet before Humpage could speak. ‘I’ll get uniform on to it, sir.’

‘Did you ever have a sense your home might be under surveillance? The same car going backwards and forwards? Someone regularly parked?’ he asked.

‘Apart from the guy wearing shades in his tinted window Toyota? Sorry it’s such a cliché, but our Neighbourhood Watch guy is forever on to the liaison officer for our estate about him, and he’s still there, dealing whatever he deals in.’

He flinched, but made a note.

‘But this guy – I’m sorry, I can’t remember his name – did ask me about some cars he’d seen. I hadn’t seen them myself and I took no notice. I’m so sorry. There are a lot of things I should have taken notice of, aren’t there?’

‘Let’s hope the CCTV has – if there’s anything to notice. I still think a sojourn away from your place might be useful,’ Martin mused, ‘bearing in mind that they seem to know where you live.’

A mobile phone rang. Mine. Oh, let it be Caddie, with a hard offer of work to take me to Scunthorpe or Stockholm or anywhere that wasn’t Stratford! But it wasn’t, it was Jane Fairfax, aka Miss Fairford.

‘It’s work,’ I said briefly. ‘Is it OK to take it?’

It was.

‘Mrs Frensham is wondering if you would
be kind enough to call round this evening. She regrets that it’s such short notice, but a major problem has arisen.’

‘Such as what?’

‘The decorators are unable to obtain the paint you requested for the library.’

‘The Farrow & Ball picture gallery red?’

‘Yes. They wish to offer a cheaper alternative.’

‘Source?’

‘B&Q,’ she said, as if the letters scalded her mouth as she said them.

I suppressed a snigger. ‘I’d need to see the sample, but I’m somewhat engaged at the moment.’

‘Mrs Frensham would like you to come the moment you’re free. She realises that this is a huge imposition, particularly as she wishes you to return early tomorrow morning to meet with the decorators.’

I can only blame my stressful day for my unguarded response. ‘For God’s sake, she’ll be wanting me to sleep there next!’

Miss Fairford sounded completely unfazed. ‘Given the urgency of the project, I am sure that she would see that as an advantage.’

Before I could explode with anger, a thought slipped unbidden into my brain. There were few places more secure than Aldred House, particularly now that Ted had acquired his
specialist gates. In addition, Allyn daily employed a team of beauticians, hairdressers and others to improve or change her appearance. I would never have dreamt of inflicting myself on them uninvited, and I would certainly explain, when I saw them, that I might turn into the guest from hell, but at least I had a temporary bolt-hole.

I managed a very convincing sigh of exasperation. ‘Very well. You may tell Allyn that she may expect me, possibly for an overnight visit. So Mrs Frensham can have the benefit of my advice this evening, and the builders the benefit of my tongue tomorrow morning.’

Karen, returning to the room, smothered a giggle.

‘We will discuss the length of my stay when I arrive. And now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my present task.’ With my lowly phone, ending the call was simply a matter of prosaically pressing a button. I would have loved to have a device which could be closed or folded to add a note of drama to the proceedings. Particularly as I concluded by punching in the air as if West Bromwich Albion had just won the Cup, and offering everyone in the room a high five.

No one argued with my proposed overnight accommodation; indeed, Humpage went so far as to suggest I discover several good excuses for extending my visit.

‘Excuses? Believe me, Mrs Frensham will expect me to earn every penny of my bed and board. And I would hazard that I will exist entirely behind the green-baize door. Think feudal.’

‘All the same, a very timely invitation,’ he said, getting to his feet.

‘I wonder… You might want to throw any pursuers off the scent by telling the press that some stupid estate agent had summoned the emergency services by pressing the wrong button on a burglar alarm. I don’t know what you think of the idea. It would be a reason for my making myself scarce.’

‘It smacks of gilding the lily to me. And I don’t like giving false info to the press.’

‘That wouldn’t stop our Vee,’ Greg said, making us all jump. ‘And she’s had the editor of the local rag in her pocket for years.’

‘Morgan Farthing.’

‘That’s the editor of the
Stratford Upon Avon Gazette
?’ Martin said.

‘Yes. He and I go back years. He and his wife and I. We all play tennis. And not that sort of mixed doubles, either,’ I added firmly. ‘I’m sure he’d print a little paragraph if I asked him.’

Martin shook his head. ‘I don’t think the timing will work. If our eastern European friends are on to you, then I doubt if they’ll wait for
news in the
Gazette
of your activities. If they’re not, there’s no point in drawing attention to them. After all, we get all sorts of false alarms all the time. This is what we’ll do. We’ll go for the business-as-usual option, if that’s OK by you, Mr Burford? If anyone wants a viewing, you take particulars as usual, but let us know instantly. Vena will emerge from her splendid isolation at Aldred House and proceed as usual, safe in the knowledge that she will not be alone, no matter how it appears.’

Greg nodded. ‘What about her getting out and about, though? For all she says she’ll be in disguise, we don’t want her taking risks.’ After all these years, he could still surprise me.

‘Believe me, I shall keep my head down. All the same, you’ve got a point. You couldn’t hire me a set of wheels, Greg? Bottom of the range! Take the money out of my bonus?’ I added, with a bit of a wheedle.

‘Good idea,’ Martin declared. ‘I presume there’s enough space at Aldred House for your Fiesta to be concealed?’

‘Plenty of outhouses.’

Karen almost put her hand up to gain attention. She coughed. ‘What if they’ve fitted a tracking device to Vena’s car, sir?’

‘Good point. What say you go with her to Aldred House, and drive the car back and park
it outside, so it looks like business as usual? Someone will pick you up there.’

Her face lit up. She wanted to meet Toby, didn’t she? What a pity he’d be working tonight.

I looked at my watch. ‘I may be sleeping in one of those outhouses if I don’t report to Mrs Frensham soon. I must be off.’

Martin nodded slowly. ‘So long as you let us know your movements, Vena, well in advance. Meanwhile, I think we’ll send an unmarked car to your house, to make sure no one else has got there first. If all is well, then you can return just long enough to collect what you regard as essential to your sojourn with the landed gentry. Be as insouciant as you can.’

Impressed by the adjective, I responded with a smile that was more serious than I intended. Insouciance was all very well when someone didn’t know every detail of your life.

Packing a couple of bags was the work of minutes, given the amount of practice I’d had when I was on tour. But I had to give my plants a drink. Goodness knew when they’d get another one.

No, I mustn’t think that way. Otherwise I’d start looking at all my theatrical memorabilia – worth nothing to a dealer but the world to me – with nostalgia. And I might weep. On impulse I grabbed a bin liner and shoved a load of photos
willy-nilly into it. If I broke any of the frames, or any of the glass, so be it. At least I’d still have them.

What about my old teddy bears? They weren’t collector’s items, but they were suddenly very dear to me. Another bin bag. Sorry, lads, for the indignity.

I caught sight of Karen taking a phone call and looking anxiously at her watch. That had better be that then. My life in two cases and two bin liners.

I braced my shoulders. I’d always told myself it was better to travel light.

‘Here we are!’ I called gaily, as I locked my front door. Drat my hand for starting to shake again. ‘Will you drive or shall I?’