The Grey Man (3 page)

Saturday, 4 February, 10.17 a.m.

T
HE RAIN HAD STOPPED
overnight so at least Saturday shoppers didn't get wet as they went about the city centre. Kevin bit into a bacon sandwich, fresh from Bobby's Snacks on the market, and wiped a blob of tomato ketchup off his chin. Those shelves had looked dead easy to put up but it had taken him a couple of hours to get them level. Now, with Linda out of the way, he had a chance to buy her an anniversary present. He ate the rest of his sandwich and headed for the only jeweller he knew, Hearts on the high street. It was where he had bought Linda's wedding ring.

He had a quick look in the window but nothing grabbed him, apart from his reflection. Was the hair gel he had slipped into the shopping trolley last night making him look cool or not? Today his hair had a seriously spiky thing going on.

He went inside the shop, unsure of himself, and tried to avoid eye-contact with the two women behind the counter. He pretended to be interested in a display of men's watches with giant faces. Nothing for Linda there. He moved to a glass cabinet and couldn't believe his eyes. There, centre stage, was a beautiful pearl necklace. With a sapphire and diamond clasp.

'The Augusta,' a voice said, so close to his ear that he jumped. 'Wonderful, isn't it?' The sales woman had come round to the front of the counter.

'It's lovely.' Kevin pointed at it. 'Are they real?'

'The pearls are cultured ones, which makes them cheaper. The jewels are glass, but good quality, as you can see. The actress Jessica Drake got her mitts on the real thing. Did you know she's in Ipswich for a play?'

'I saw her on the news last night.'

'Well, after everyone saw her wearing it for the first time, these necklaces became all the rage. It was a few years ago now, but the design is timeless.'

It was stunning. Not that Kevin was a jewel expert, but he knew Linda would love it. He
squinted at the tiny price tag. Five hundred and seventy pounds. He'd only saved two hundred and fifty. His hand shook a little as he reached for his wallet. He knew it was a dumb thing to do, but he'd put the rest on his card. It was just too good to miss. He imagined Linda beaming as she opened it.

Common sense flew out of the window. 'I'll take it,' he whispered.

Kevin's next stop was Marco's. 'Hi, Mark. I just want to confirm you've still got my table for next Saturday at—'

Mark smiled and held up his hand. He didn't need to double-check his book. He had made the booking for Kevin last week when he had popped in, just as he had last year and all the years before that. Lovely couple. 'Anniversary time again, is it, Mr Dodds?'

'Yes.'

'You have a new hairstyle, I see.' Kevin waited to hear what Mark thought of it.

'We'll look forward to seeing you both on Saturday, Mr Dodds.'

'Me too.' Kevin turned to the door, then stopped. 'Maybe you could help me do something a little special this time, Mark . . .'

Almost home. Just one last stop – Blockbuster – and then he was done for the day. Like some people can lose track of time reading, gardening or playing football, Kevin could spend all day in Blockbuster. Films were his passion. He liked to scan the shelves for hidden treasure. Something he might not have seen before, maybe an old black-and-white, an Italian thriller, or a cops-and-robbers B movie.

Linda always went to bingo on a Saturday night to keep her mum company, and Kevin stayed in to watch DVDs. Apart from next week, of course, when Linda was going to bingo on Friday.

Kevin looked along the shelves for old favourites, like they were long-lost friends. His finger hovered over
Blackhawk Down.
He must have seen it twenty times, but it was worth watching another twenty. He had learned quite a lot about life from watching films. The way he dealt with Symington came from an old black-and-white prison film. The prisoner had just smiled and taken whatever the guard threw at him so that the older men got beaten less often.

He limited himself to one DVD a week, and
choosing just one was part of the fun. You had to think about what mood you were in, what would satisfy you most on that particular night. Narrowing the choice gave the game an edge. Usually he plumped for an action film and today was no exception. His finger traced along the shelves. Maybe
Pulp Fiction.
Maybe
The Bourne Identity.
Or maybe
Training Day.
Or what about
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?
Just the movie for when you were in the mood for a western, except he wasn't. No, let's save that. Hang on. Here was an old favourite.
The Score,
a bank-robbery film starring Robert de Niro.

As he unlocked the front door, Linda came out of the kitchen. Her hair was freshly washed after her gym class and she looked good in jeans and a black polo-neck.

'What's with the hair?'

'Er, I gelled it.'

'I can see that.'

'Like it?'

'Yeah, it's . . . well . . . it's fine.' They burst out laughing. 'Nah.' They shook their heads and laughed even more.

Kevin leaped up the stairs. 'I'll go and wash it.'

He laughed all the way to the bedroom, then pulled out a long black box from under his jacket. Before he hid it behind the wardrobe, he couldn't resist taking a peep.

The Augusta pearls gleamed up at him against the blue velvet lining. He snapped the box shut in case he gave it to her there and then. He buried the thought of next month's credit-card bill.

'Be down in a minute!' he called.

Monday, 6 February, 10.24 a.m.

K
EVIN GAZED OUT OF
the bank's window at tall grey buildings with thick grey clouds pressing down on them. Not much going on out there. He looked back to the computer screen – also grey – and wondered how he would get through the next six hours.

Symington had given him the cleaning bill for his suit and stuck him on the counter as Margaret was sick, but he'd been there for an hour and so far only two customers had come in. It wasn't his job to cover now that he'd been promoted. Gary and Alice were supposed to do that, but Symington put Kevin back at the counter whenever he could. It was one of his ways of keeping Kevin in his place. As always, Kevin smiled and got on with the job.

Gary and Alice were behind him now, sitting at the main desk checking paperwork. They
occasionally looked up from their print-outs to share a joke. Kevin tapped his pencil on the counter as if to magic a queue of people into the bank, but still no one came.

Kevin could see Symington by the fax machine. A piece of paper was jammed in it – his boss was hopping from one foot to the other, opening and closing the lid.

Now was Kevin's chance. He leaped up and dashed over. 'Something jammed, Mr Symington? Need a hand?'

'Stupid machine isn't working. Every time I press start, three red lights flash on but nothing happens.'

'Let's have a look.' Kevin lifted the lid and wiggled the piece of paper that was trapped inside. It came out easily. He reset the start button, inserted the fax and hit send. The machine started to dial.

'Glad to see you've got a talent for something.'

It was now or never. He'd promised Linda. 'Mr Symington, could I ask you something if you have a moment?'

'You've got until this fax goes through or until we have a customer.'

'I wondered if I could take this Friday off.' Symington's eyebrows rose an inch. 'You see, it's my wedding anniversary on Saturday and—'

Symington's hand went to his moustache and started to twirl. He enjoyed having Kevin on a hook. 'A bit late to ask for a day off, isn't it? I always demand five working days' notice if this bank is to function properly. You should have asked me before the weekend.'

'I know, but it's still four days' notice and it's been so quiet lately.'

'Ah, that's the nature of banking, Kevin. One moment it's quiet, and the next it's all hands on deck. You just never know what's going to happen.' He waved his arm across the silent room.

'Well, Margaret said she'd be back on Friday. I've checked with Gary and Alice and they're happy to cover for me, but I really don't think it will be that busy.'

As soon as he said it, he knew he'd made a mistake. 'You don't think it'll be busy. And who are you? The Mystic Meg of banking? You're not paid to
think,
Kevin. You're paid to
do.
I'll do the thinking around here, and
I
think it may be busy. Sorry, Kevin, but rules are rules. Give
me five days' notice in future, and I'll see what I can do.'

'But—'

'No buts, Kevin. I'm sorry, we'll need you here on Friday.'

Kevin wanted to say more, but he couldn't think of anything. He couldn't ask for next Monday off as Linda was on a training day. Fed up, he plodded back to his stool and sat down. A wave of misery washed through him. Why couldn't he stand up to Symington for once in his life?

The next two and a half hours dragged. Three people came in. Two to make deposits and an old lady who thought she was in the Halifax next door. He filled in the time by double-checking the safe-deposit records on the computer. He stopped for a sandwich. Then there were another two and a half hours of boredom to get through. Dull. Dull. Dull.

Monday, 6 February, 4.30 p.m.

K
EVIN, WHO HAD BEEN
clock-watching all day, knew the exact time when the two women burst into the bank. 'You were supposed to have fixed this yesterday!' the taller one yelled. 'I sometimes wonder what I'm paying you for! Never mind. As usual, I'll do it myself.'

Kevin recognized her from the TV straight away. She was tall, slim, with glossy blonde hair and very high cheekbones. As soon as she saw him watching her, her frown was replaced with a smile. She took a deep breath, and came slowly up to the counter, as if she was on a catwalk. She was wearing a black fur coat with high heels, and her hips swayed as she moved. Her assistant remained five paces behind.

Jessica stopped at Kevin's window and peeled off her black leather gloves. 'Hello.' Her voice was rich and low. 'My name is Jessica Drake.'

Kevin's eyes were glued to her collarbone. She was wearing the Augusta necklace. 'Good afternoon, madam.' He sounded a bit stiff, like Symington.

'Darling, you probably know that I'm performing at the Theatre Royal, just down the road from you. Well, I can't leave my necklace in the wings while I'm on stage, or some wicked little chorus girl will steal it. I thought I'd better deposit it in your bank for the week. My assistant will pick it up on Monday morning. Would that be possible, darling?'

As she talked, Kevin stared at the necklace. He was trying to fix all of the details in his head so he could remember them for Linda later. Jessica Drake was just as beautiful in real life as she was on TV. She had pale, clear skin and bright blue eyes with the longest eyelashes he'd ever seen. But there was something odd about her face. It was so smooth, it didn't seem to move as she spoke. It was as if someone was pulling the skin at the back of her head. And when you looked closely, the lashes at the outer corners of her eyes went a bit too far beyond each eye. And her lips seemed too big and a bit sore . . .

'Darling, are you listening? I want to deposit
my Augusta. I assume your bank offers a safe-deposit service?'

'Of course, madam. If you'd like to walk over to the door on your right, I'll buzz you straight through. There's just a little paperwork.'

'OK, but hurry up, darling, I'm in rather a rush.'

Jessica headed towards the door. Kevin felt a stab of nerves as he went to meet her. He was doing business with a Hollywood movie star. Well, sort of. Linda had told him Jessica hadn't been in a film since her divorce, but that didn't matter. His wife would still be dead impressed.

By the look of it, so were his workmates. They had stopped what they were doing and their mouths hung open.

Jessica was every inch the movie star, but the necklace was what drew your eye. The two strands of pearls glowed, and the sapphire and diamonds twinkled. Kevin's present for Linda looked just like the real thing!

He pressed the security switch and the door unlocked.

'My driver is waiting outside,' snapped Jessica. 'I can't be long. Must I really sign some silly form? After all, you do know who I am?'

Kevin held open the door for her as she glided in with her assistant. 'Yes, of course I do. I saw you on TV last Friday. But I'm afraid we can't take a deposit without filling in a form. Sorry.'

'You saw me on TV, did you? You'd think the media would have had enough of me by now, but they always seem to want more. Oh, well.' She stroked her fur coat. 'I guess that's just the downside of being famous.'

'Madam, please.' He took her into his office where he kept the forms. 'Do sit down. Can I take your coat?'

This was turning into an exciting day. Kevin couldn't wait to tell Linda about it. He wondered if he could ask Jessica for an autograph. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do. But what was the harm? He'd ask her when the necklace was safely in the basement.

'Forget my coat. Just get on with it!' She sat down and slowly crossed one long leg over the other. The other woman stood beside her. 'Quickly! Give me the forms.' Jessica pointed to her assistant. Clearly, you didn't pass anything to royalty in person.

Kevin handed them to the assistant with his pen, and the two women signed their names.

'Don't just stand there, sweetheart. Fetch me the key.' Her voice wasn't quite so rich and low now that she had only him to watch her. It was more of a screech.

Kevin unlocked the safe fixed to the wall behind him.

In it, there was a row of small hooks with numbers underneath. Some had a key hanging from them, but many didn't as the client kept their key at home. At the top of the safe, there was a small shelf with just one key. This was the guard key for all the boxes.

Each deposit box had two locks, which had to be unlocked before the box would open. The guard key was kept in the safe, and used by Kevin to open the first lock. Then Kevin would leave the guard key in the lock and the client used their own key to open the second. Kevin had to leave the guard key in the lock because the client's key would only work if the guard was in place. It was extra security so that the two locks couldn't be picked.

The safe in Kevin's office also had two locks to open and close it. Symington held the guard key and Kevin had the second. Each morning Symington would open his lock, then Kevin
opened his. At the end of the day, they both locked the safe for the night.

'Come on, then.' Jessica snatched the little key out of his hand. 'Show me my box.'

'It's downstairs, if you'd like to follow me. Oh, I should have introduced myself. I'm Kevin Dodds, deputy manager.'

Jessica looked put out. 'Deputy manager? I thought you were the manager. I can't hand over my necklace to any Tom, Dick or Harry. I insist on dealing with the manager.'

'I look after deposits, madam, and you don't need to hand your necklace to me. You can lock it into the safe yourself and keep the key, so that you can be sure it's all in order.'

'I know that.' She looked Kevin up and down. 'I've had more safe-deposit boxes than you've had hot dinners, but I will not be taken care of by a deputy. It's like going to the theatre and getting the understudy, you silly little man.'

She slapped the top of his desk. 'Fetch me the manager. Now!'

Kevin smiled and went to look for Symington in his office.

Symington dropped his newspaper when Kevin told him who wanted to see him and
scuttled out to meet the star.

'Oh, there you are, darling. I told him I could only deal with the manager.' Jessica looked out of Kevin's office window to check that the other staff were watching. There was nothing she liked more than making a scene. 'Now, let's go and put away my Augusta. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to take it off me.'

Symington's eyes were very wide. He could only nod. Then, as if she were on stage, Jessica pulled off her coat and flung it at Kevin. 'Make yourself useful.'

She turned the clasp to the back of her neck and lifted her hair for Symington to undo the catch. Even from where he was standing, Kevin could hear his boss breathing heavily. Kevin was seriously pissed off. Deposits were his job. He had really wanted to undo the clasp of a two-million-pound necklace.

Symington handed the necklace to Jessica, who placed it in a black box that her assistant pulled out from her bag. 'Madam, if you'd like to follow me, I'll show you to your deposit box downstairs. Dodds, look after Ms Drake's coat.'

Jessica took the box from her assistant and headed for the stairs with the bank manager.
Kevin heard Symington's voice as they went down to the basement. 'I do apologize for my deputy. He's not very bright, and tends to get a bit star-struck.'

'Darling, he was no problem. I'm used to it. It's just nice to have the manager in charge of such an important deposit. Besides, that deputy of yours has his hands full now. He looks like a yeti all covered with fur.'

He heard them chuckle as they trotted down the stairs. Jessica's assistant took the coat from him and Kevin made his way back to the counter. He felt pleased that the great Jessica Drake hadn't been in any films for a long time. He was glad she had to travel up and down the country just to get a small part in a small town. She was a bitch.