Night Watcher (28 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Patrick Drake stepped out of the Rolls Royce moments before the store opened. Several people were clustered on the pavement outside and Patrick, who could always make an educated guess about what a customer would spend, mentally weighed them up.

It was a game he played and he was rarely wrong which was why he had been so successful in business. Even in the early days when he’d only had a market stall he had known who to concentrate on and who was a waste of time. As a result his rise in the business world had been swift and profitable.

He concentrated on the game now, his gaze flicking from one person to the other. The old man leaning on his cane and fingering his moustache with his other hand had evidently seen better days judging by the shabbiness of his clothes. He would be going inside to get out of the cold, and was probably only worth the price of a cup of tea. Two harassed looking young mothers with toddlers in tow would be heading for the food hall or children’s wear. They would not waste time, but might spend a pound or two. The blue haired granny was a typical candidate for the makeup or perfume counter. Someone should tell her she was wasting her money and she would look better with less of a face mask, but it was not going to be him. The young man, dapper in his business suit and with his briefcase swinging at his side, was probably a travelling salesman or representative as they liked to be called nowadays so he was not worth spending time on.

Patrick recalled it had been some time since he had handled a rep, although he had considerable experience of dealing with them. He had particularly enjoyed the games he played with them and on them, particularly the cocky ones, for they were the ones he liked to take down a peg or two and he knew just how to do it.

There was movement inside and the small crowd surged forward. Patrick watched carefully as the security man unlocked the doors, noting the way he welcomed those waiting, tipping his hand to his cap as the first of the customers trickled in.

Leaning against the car, Patrick was convinced he looked like any other bystander, as he puffed on his cigar and deliberately allowed time for the small influx of people to subside. While he waited, he took the chance to admire the window displays.

This had been his first department store and he had never lost his affection for it. But profits had been consistently dropping since the new shopping mall had replaced the previous uglier mall.

He turned and looked across the street, comparing the ultra modern frontage of the Overgate Centre with the gothic building that housed his department store. It made him wonder whether he was allowing sentiment to get in the way of a change, and whether this was why he was losing customers. Perhaps modernising his present store was a non-starter as there was only so much that could be done with such a large building. It was maybe time to put out feelers about space within the new extension that was being planned for the Centre. However, he would need to be convinced of the profitability of any potential move before he took a decision.

He dropped his cigar to the pavement grinding it under the sole of his shoe, before he turned round to smile tightly at the chauffeur. ‘That’ll be all for now, Frankie. I’ll phone you when I’m ready to go, but I expect to be in the store most of the morning.’ He smiled again, a thin-lipped cruel smile, ‘I’m sure the staff will appreciate my presence – showing my concern and all that.’

The security man seemed startled to see him, but he stood to attention, touched his cap, smiled, and said, ‘Good morning, Mr Drake.’

‘Good morning. I’m afraid I don’t recall your name?’

‘It’s Harry, sir. Harry Watson.’

‘Of course, I remember now. I’ve been watching you, Harry. You’re doing a good job. Keep it up.’

As Patrick strolled on into the store a warm contented feeling surged through his body. It had been just a few words of encouragement, but the man had responded to it like a dog being stroked.

Patrick had not felt so good for a long time. He would have to come to the store more often. He would also have to speak to Ken about the security man’s uniform. No use speaking to Nicole any more, he thought, with a wry twist of the dark humour he was renowned for. The man’s uniform was smart enough, and he obviously looked after it, but his shirt was threadbare and his shoes, although well polished, were obviously worn. He would suggest to Ken that shirts and shoes should also be provided.

Instead of heading for the lift as he had intended, he descended the stairs to the food hall. Normally he left store inspection to the assistant directors and the section managers but, he thought, maybe it was time he took a more personal interest. He hovered at the edge of the restaurant area surveying the functional chairs and tables, turning over in his mind the various possibilities for improvement.

‘Can I help you, Mr Drake?’

He had not heard Betty approach him from behind. ‘Just considering,’ he said. ‘It’s Betty, isn’t it? I remember you from the old days when I was here more often. You must have been with us for a long time.’

‘More years than I care to think about, Mr Drake.’

‘There doesn’t seem to have been much change over those years, Betty.’ He thought for a moment. ‘What d’you think of a complete makeover? A new servery. Upgrade the furniture. Swank the place up a bit.’

‘Mmh,’ Betty considered. ‘I did have some ideas I put forward last year, but there wasn’t any money at the time.’

‘Tell you what, Betty. You work out a plan for upgrading the restaurant and send it to me and we’ll see what we can do.’ He moved on leaving Betty staring at his retreating back.

A youngish woman, late twenties early thirties, he guessed was approaching him. ‘Mr Drake?’ she said. ‘Julie Forbes, section manager of the food hall.’ She held out her hand and shook his with a business like shake.

‘I don’t think I’ve previously had the pleasure. I would have remembered,’ he murmured. She was very attractive, short brown hair framing a perfectly shaped face. Large, grey eyes which, on closer inspection had small flecks of green intermingled with the grey. Long neck and delicately shaped shoulders that were at odds with her athletic frame. Oh yes, he would have remembered her. ‘Maybe you can walk me round the food hall and tell me how it’s doing. Whether you’ve made any improvements and any further areas of development you’ve identified.’

He spent a pleasant half-hour with Julie, making a mental note that a promotion might not be out of order, before moving on to inspect the other departments in the store. Gradually he worked his way upwards until he reached the office floor.

***

Betty waggled a cup in the air to attract Julie’s attention.

‘Does that mean what I think it means?’ Julie said as she joined Betty at the servery.

‘I think we deserve it,’ Betty said. She filled the cups with frothy white coffee and pointing to a table nearby said, ‘Let’s sit, shall we.’

‘He seemed quite nice.’ Julie sipped her coffee appreciatively.

‘About as nice as a cobra,’ Betty said. ‘All charm, but watch out for the bite. I’d guess he’s getting ready to do a management shake-up and I don’t give much for Ken’s chances now Nicole’s gone.’

‘That’s a bit cryptic, and if I didn’t know you better, I’d say it was also cynical.’ Julie studied Betty over the rim of her cup.

‘Cynical for sure, I’ve been around too long and seen too much. That old blighter knows everything that’s going on. He knew about Ken and Nicole and I’d guess he was playing a game with them. A great one for games is our Mr Patrick. A great one for a pretty face too. You watch out for him, I saw the way he was looking at you.’

Julie laughed. ‘He was only interested in what I’d been doing with the food hall and wants to know what other plans I have in mind.’

‘Oh yes,’ Betty said. ‘We’ve all been there, just make sure there’s plenty of folk around when you give him feedback about your plans or you’ll find his plans are taking over. And I don’t think they would have anything to do with the development of the food hall.’

‘Oh, you don’t know that, Betty. It’s all part of the mystery he likes to surround himself with. The stories about him are only rumour.’

‘It’s more than rumour,’ Betty said grimly. ‘Just take it from me, I know.’

Julie put her cup down in the saucer with a clatter. ‘Betty, you didn’t, you haven’t?’ she looked at her friend while her mind turned over the thought that had just sidled its way in. ‘Betty, I do believe you’re blushing.’

‘Believe what you like. Anyway it’s a long time ago – the best part of twenty years. Just mind what I say. Watch out for the old blighter, he looks harmless, but there’s some as knows better.’

***

Patrick looked round the boardroom table. The room was packed with representatives from every department in the store, and now that the last of the stragglers had arrived he could get started. Evelyn had made a good job of arranging this meeting in the least possible time. He smiled at her, noting with interest the pink tinge creeping into her cheeks. ‘You sit at my side Evelyn, and maybe you can take a note of the meeting.’ Evelyn was an asset, worth keeping because she would support him in anything he wanted to do.

He was not so sure about the rest of them: Miss Smithers, for example, the woman was a pain in the neck, questioning everything, although admittedly she had a good record in the electrical department and at least she could be relied on for her honesty; then there was the new girl Julie, an unknown quantity, but with possibilities and the added benefit of looks. He would not mind a session or two with her, but that could wait. First there was the business.

‘Everyone knows what’s happened and I’m sure everyone regrets it.’ Patrick surveyed the staff sitting round the table. His eyes lingered for a moment on Harry, the security man, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable, probably understandable under the circumstances. It had not taken Patrick long to find out about the bawling out Nicole had given him, although Patrick did not intend to let that influence any decision he might make.

‘In the circumstances I’m sure everyone will want to pay their respects.’ He did not elaborate on how this might be done. ‘No doubt the police will be back and I want everyone to co-operate fully,’ he paused, ‘however, I’m sure you’ll all keep the good of the store in mind.’ He continued his pep talk finishing with, ‘Of course, we will now have to look at some restructuring and I’ll be doing this over the next few days. I’m sure you will understand the reasons and co-operate with any decisions made.’ His eye lingered on Ken. The man was looking very shifty, no doubt worrying about what the outcome of any investigation would be and its possible effect on his marriage. Maybe there was more, Patrick was not sure. In any event, Ken’s days were now numbered. Patrick did not forget or forgive anyone who let him down, and Ken had let him down yesterday.

He placed his hands flat on the table top, levering himself up. ‘I think we can close the meeting now, and I know I can rely on everybody to remember where their loyalties lie.’ He smiled at each one of them as they filed past him, waiting until Julie was within reach. Leaning over, he placed a hand on her arm. ‘If you could just hang back a moment Julie, I’d like a few words.’ It was time to start putting his plans into action.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Grant Donaldson had not taken long to swing into action once the briefing meeting was over. Bill suspected the man knew they had tried to gag him and, although he had played along, he was now asserting his authority.

‘We’ll set up the largest conference room as an incident room,’ Grant said.

‘But the Chief Constable,’ Andy spluttered. ‘It’s booked for him.’

Grant waved his arms. ‘That’s all taken care of,’ he said in a mild tone of voice.

‘We could use one of the incident rooms downstairs,’ Andy protested.

‘I prefer to set up my own.’ Grant brushed Andy’s objections away as if they were of no importance. Andy eventually gave up and, muttering under his breath, retired to his office to brood.

The incident room did not take long to set up. The previously prepared white board and display boards were the first things to be moved to their new abode. The technicians installed computers, a phone system was established, staff requisitioned, and desks moved in. The resultant noisy chaos gave Bill a headache.

He sat behind his desk, morosely considering the cardboard box with his bits and pieces in it. It was not that he had objected to his desk being moved in here, and he had got a good position in front of one of the windows, it was just that he hated the upheaval of the move.

‘Are you trying to hypnotize that box into unpacking itself?’ Sue enquired, perching herself on the end of his desk.

‘I could think of better things to do,’ Bill muttered through gritted teeth. ‘Why couldn’t we have continued working from our own offices? It would’ve saved wasting time on this removal.’

‘It’s what’s called modern policing, Bill. Get everything together in one place and the investigation’s more coordinated. It saves missing anything.’ Sue poked a finger into the box. ‘What a load of rubbish you’ve collected. Throw it out and you won’t have to unpack.’

Bill made a rude noise and, leaning over, pushed the box out of her reach.

‘You know, Bill. For a guy who’s only thirty-nine you’re a right old fart. You want to move with the times.’

Blair Armstrong and Sid Low barged into the room, shrugging off their coats and hanging them on the coat rack. Where Grant had acquired a coat rack was beyond Bill who usually threw his jacket on the floor or the back of his chair. The two men headed in the direction of Bill’s desk, the aroma of Blair’s aftershave reaching it before he did.

‘Present for you,’ Blair grinned, throwing an address book and photograph album on Bill’s desk. ‘The big white chief said for you to look over them. See if there’s anyone you recognize from your previous investigation.’

‘Where’d you get them?’ Bill turned the pages of the album. The photographs were of men, some of them with Nicole and some not. Some of the poses verged on the pornographic.

‘House search,’ Blair grinned.

Sue looked over Bill’s shoulder and whistled. ‘But Bill and I looked over the house yesterday and we didn’t see these.’

Bill scowled at her. He would have preferred Blair not to know that.

‘Didn’t look hard enough then, did you.’ Blair smirked. ‘Actually we found these in a little secret compartment at the back of her wardrobe.’

Bill remembered the wardrobe, a large walk in affair the size of a small room. ‘Good work,’ he said, although it made him sick to his stomach to admit it.

‘Leave you to it then.’ The two men sauntered away.

Sue pulled a chair over to Bill’s desk. ‘Let’s go through it then,’ she said.

‘Panting does not become you Sue, so take that salacious look out of your eyes and study this professionally.’ Bill ducked as Sue swung her arm at him in a mock slap.

‘This chap here,’ Sue tapped a finger on the photograph. ‘I saw a portrait of him in that conference room at Patrick Drake’s department store, although mind you, he looks a bit different without clothes. D’you think it might be Patrick Drake himself?’

‘Could be.’ Bill slipped the photograph out of its plastic pocket and laid it on the desk. ‘We’ll stick the ones we recognize on the display board.’

They leafed through several pages. ‘Nobody here I recognize,’ Sue said. ‘The poses are interesting though.’ She turned a page. ‘Wait a minute. I think I saw this guy in the gents section when I was having a nosey around the store after the interviews.’ She slipped his photograph out of the book. ‘And isn’t that the other assistant director, what’s his name, Ken somebody or other.’

‘Ken Moody,’ Bill murmured, but he was not looking at that photograph. He was looking at another one, the photograph of a man that he had last seen on Julie Forbes’s mantelpiece. His finger hovered, but did not withdraw it to join the others. The man was dead after all. He snapped the album shut. ‘Let’s look at the address book now,’ he said, his eyes already searching for the F’s.

***

Julie stood to the side, trying to hide behind Patrick, but could not help noticing the curious glances of the other staff as they left the room. Ken was the last one to leave and the look he darted at her was positively poisonous.

‘Close the door behind you,’ Patrick instructed him. The sharp click of the wood as it closed reflected Ken’s displeasure to those in the room. ‘Not a very subtle man,’ Patrick said, as he turned with a smile to Julie.

Julie kept her face impassive as she looked back at him. It helped mask the anxiety she was feeling.

‘Sit down, my dear,’ Patrick murmured. ‘You’ll be wondering what this is about.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Quite simple, my dear. Nicole’s death has left me with a problem. I need two assistant directors to manage the store in my absence and now I’m left with only one. You can no doubt see, Ken has been very upset by what has happened and, quite frankly, I think he’s going to be of limited use to me for a time so I need to fill the gap right away.’ He paused, ‘I would like to offer you the opportunity of filling one of the assistant director posts with immediate effect. What do you say?’

Julie stared at him. Whatever she had expected it certainly was not this. ‘But, I have no experience,’ she blurted.

Patrick patted her hand. ‘You’re bright. You’ll learn,’ he said.

‘No, I can’t. I have other plans.’ She thought of Edinburgh and the gallery. It seemed to be getting further away.

‘I insist,’ Patrick said. He frowned. ‘I am accustomed to getting my own way, you know.’

She would have to tell him. ‘My plans involve moving back to Edinburgh and I had intended to hand in my notice.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said.

‘You can’t prevent me leaving,’ Julie blurted.

‘Maybe not, but you’ll have to stay until the investigation into Nicole’s death is completed in any case. So you can move your personal belongings up to this floor immediately and I’ll arrange for temporary office space for you until the police give me the go ahead to use Nicole’s office again. You never know, you might like the job and change your mind about returning to Edinburgh. Anyway, run along for now, and remember, you start work tomorrow on this floor in your new role. Evelyn will make sure you get everything you need.’ He opened the door and ushered her out.

Julie stood for a moment in the corridor trying to order her thoughts. Everything had happened so quickly. She was sure she had not agreed to the proposition, and yet, he just expected her to do it.

Ken was standing at the door to his office. ‘Well,’ he sneered, ‘I take it you’re going to climb the ladder the same way Nicole did. Doesn’t give us poor blokes a chance, does it?’

‘That doesn’t even warrant an answer,’ Julie snapped, and marched to the lift.

When she reached her office, Harry was already packing her belongings into cardboard boxes. ‘I believe congratulations are in order,’ he said.

Julie stared at him. ‘How did you know to start packing my stuff?’ she whispered.

‘Evelyn instructed me to do it as soon as we came out of the meeting.’ Harry rammed some stationery into the box. ‘What d’you want me to do with the files, Julie?’

‘Oh, put them in as well. I have some work to finish off, and no doubt I’ll have to do both jobs anyway.’ She slumped down in her chair. ‘He must have been damned sure I’d agree to do the job.’

‘Of course, he was.’ Betty poked her head round the door. ‘Nobody refuses Patrick. Wasn’t that what I was telling you earlier. You just watch out for the next move, and be ready to run.’

‘There’s a wee parcel here, Julie. Somebody must have left it on your desk. D’you want me to pack it or are you going to open it now?’

‘Give it here,’ Julie said. ‘If you pack it I’ll probably never find it again.’

‘Maybe it’s a good luck token,’ Betty said.

‘Have you been up to something behind my back?’ Julie shook the package. ‘It doesn’t rattle.’

‘Oh, go on. Open it. Don’t keep us in suspense.’ Betty moved closer.

Julie stuck her fingernail under the sellotape sealing the package and ripped the paper off to reveal a small box. She prised the lid off and looked inside.

‘Oh, shit,’ she said.

The other two sets of eyes reflected the horror she was feeling.