‘ The Judge wants to see you both.’
Over the last few days, since Tracey had disappeared, the operatives of Kruger Investigations had been getting nowhere fast. The streets of Miami had been constantly combed, particularly the areas notable for street hookers and drug abusers.
They drew a blank.
Myrna had got the girl’s last known address from Mark Tapperman; two of her best investigators had visited it, but the place was empty. It looked as though she had done a quick getaway, leaving several items of personal belongings behind.
Myrna called her people off.
There was no guarantee Tracey was even in Miami. She could have been anywhere, or even dead, so Myrna resumed normality — or at least the normality of life without Steve Kruger and a gay husband.
Too much time chasing shadows would have been unproductive for a firm still reeling from its founder’s death. Myrna needed to devote herself to jittery customers.
That was what she did.
She worked from very early each morning until late into the night, calling customers worldwide, chatting, reassuring them in the same way she had done very soon after Kruger’s death. She spent most of her waking hours next to the phone in her office, feeding the fax and writing letters. It was a hell of a task, but needed the personal touch, she believed. She contacted, one way or another, every single customer and supplier, past and present, and the response she got was brilliant. She firmly began to believe that Kruger Investigations had a future, even without Steve, but it had to be driven by her.
And in the early hours of that Tuesday morning, she put the finishing touches to a couple of letters, slotted them into envelopes and dropped them into the out tray.
She was tired, yeah, but it was the fatigue which came through constructive hard work. She blinked the grit out of her eyes and yawned. What to do with the weekend was the question playing on her mind. She was adamant she would take Friday off and make something of it.
The prospect of heading down to the Keys with no particular aim in sight kind of appealed to her. Maybe she’d get the old Thunderbird out — the one her husband had so recklessly bought her a couple of years before, probably in a fit of guilt — and see how that performed.
Mmmm… She closed her eyes, imagined the warm wind in her hair, the straight road, a beachside guesthouse, a drink or two… she was almost asleep at the desk when the phone rang, loud and shrill in the stillness of the morning. She leapt out of her skin and fumbled to answer it.
It was Jake, the security man, down in reception. ‘Sorry t’ bother ya’ll Mizz Rosza, but I knew you wuz in or I woulden a rang…’
‘ It’s okay, Jake. What is it?’
‘ Like, normally, I’da thrown her out on her ear, but she sez she knows ya and wants t’see ya an’ apologise.’
‘ Who does?’
‘ Whazz y’name, gal?’ Myrna heard Jake ask. There was a mutter. ‘Sez she’s a-called Tracey Greenwood. Sez y’ve prob’ly bin lookin’ f’her.’
‘ Put her in the elevator, Jake and send her up.’
Myrna waited for the arrival of the elevator. When the doors opened Tracey was huddled in a foetal ball in one corner, big eyes staring up fearfully at Myrna, thumb in her mouth. She looked dreadful, just like a bunch of rags. Myrna helped her to her feet. She was pathetically light. Brittle.
‘ I’m sorry, I got scared — lost me bottle’ she said with a cough.
‘ Not scared enough to steal my purse, girl,’ Myrna rejoined with a snap.
When Tracey had been seated down in Myrna’s office and given a coffee, Myrna said, ‘You here to stay now?’ She nodded dumbly.
‘ Why the hell did you go off like that?’
‘ Don’t know. I was frightened. I needed a fix too.’
‘ And now you’ve run out of money, I suppose,’ Myrna said scornfully. She did not wait for a response. ‘Are you planning to leave again?’
‘ No.’
‘ In that case, sit there, don’t move. I’ve got a phone call to make.’
From Kruger’s office she dialled Karl Donaldson’s home number, having worked out it was only 8 a.m. in London and there was a chance he was still at home before setting off for work. Donaldson’s wife, Karen, answered. A baby screamed in the background. ‘He’s just about to leave. I’ll get him. Hold on.’
‘ This is Karl Donaldson.’
‘ Karl, she’s back.’
‘ You gonna keep hold of her this time?’
‘ I am.’
‘ Right, good. Call you back soon.’
Donaldson immediately phoned Henry Christie at home but was told he had already left for work. He then rang Blackpool police station to be told he had not yet turned in, but was expected to be in later after attending a special hearing at Lancaster Crown Court. Donaldson asked for a mobile or pager number, but no one could actually put their fingers on one at that moment. Cursing, Donaldson hung up and flipped through his organiser. The number of Henry’s pager was not there either. He knew he had it at work, so he decided to wait until he got there before trying to get hold of Henry.
Meanwhile, Myrna returned to her office, ready to get some answers from young Tracey, the girl who had stolen her credit cards.
‘ Hey, I’ve got some great…’
‘ Come on, Henry,’ Danny waved him urgently back down the corridor. ‘The Judge wants to see us — now!’
‘ Eh? Why?’
‘ How the hell should I know? Come on, hurry up.’ Danny knocked on the chamber door.
‘ Please, please, sit down,’ Mrs Ellison said to them. Two extra chairs had been brought in and placed directly in front of her desk. The two solicitors were sitting apart, on chairs at an angle to the corners of the desk. Henry and Danny sat in between. The Judge peered down her nose at Henry.
‘ Mr Christie — I thought I recognised the name. How are you?’
‘ Your Honour, I’m fine, thank you very much.’
Danny gazed incredulously at him. Stanway almost groaned. The last thing he wanted was for Henry Christie to be on intimate terms with the Judge.
‘ I seem to remember you were in pretty bad shape last time we met — dodging bullets and Mafia hitmen, as I recall.’ She recalled correctly, having presided almost four years before on a very high-profile trial, here at Lancaster Crown Court, in which Henry had been one of the main police witnesses.
‘ I’m well recovered from then, thank you, Ma’ am.’
‘ But still in the wars, I see.’ She chuckled, nodding towards his recent facial injuries.
‘ Trouble follows me everywhere,’ he shrugged modestly.
She gave him a tight smile which indicated the pleasantries were over and business was about to begin. ‘Now, you may be wondering why I’ve asked you both in here,’ she said, gearing smoothly into the meat of the day. ‘The fact is, I’ve listened to these two gentlemen arguing their individual points of view and it seems, overwhelmingly, that I should give the defendant, Gilbert, bail; Spencer, on the other hand will stay in custody. However, I don’t wish to rush any decision if there is a chance of getting more perspectives on it. I was aware you were out there and I believe it only right you should be able to talk to me about the matter.’
‘ Thank you. That’s very thoughtful,’ Henry said.
‘ Before we commence, though, I would like you both to take the oath.’
The usher moved in silently and handed Henry a Bible which he took in his right hand and swore to Almighty God to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Danny did likewise.
‘ Mr Christie, why don’t you want these men to get bail?’
‘ Firstly, they are charged with murder, an offence for which I believe bail should not be granted under any circumstance. Both men are wealthy people with huge liquid assets. I believe that if given bail, both would abscond and by abscond, I mean leave the country.’
‘ I object!’ Stanway interrupted loudly. ‘My clients would be more than happy to surrender their passports.’