Terry flashed her a tight smile. ‘Darling, I know how famous you are. And that I’m just one of the unsung backroom boys.’
Carolyn laughed and patted him on the arm. ‘You know what I mean,’ she said. ‘Look, the network is planning to reorganize the show and they’ll use any excuse to push me out.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Terry.
‘I’m serious, Terry. The last thing I need right now is to be tied in with something like this. And it might all be about nothing. Warwick’s a lovely guy. Maybe he just looks like the guy I saw at Cohen’s house. I mean, how likely is it he’d want to have lunch with me if he thought I’d seen him commit a murder?’
‘Maybe he’s as crazy as you are,’ laughed Terry. ‘So what are you going to do now?’
‘I’ll give Max Dunbar a call. He can run a check on Warwick.’
‘I don’t like that guy.’
‘Max? He’s okay.’
‘He’s sleazy, Carolyn. And he keeps looking at your tits when he thinks you don’t know.’
Carolyn laughed. ‘I think you’ll find most heterosexual men do that, Terry.’
‘I’m serious. I’ve never really trusted him.’
‘He gets the job done,’ said Carolyn. ‘That stalker I had, I never heard from again after Max had a word with him. He’s got great police connections and he’s discreet.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Anyway, I’d best be going. Billy’s waiting for me out front.’
‘Just be careful,’ said Terry, kissing her on the cheek. ‘And if you feel like a sleepover, call me.’
CHAPTER 39
Richards had just locked up his Porsche and was heading for the lift to take him up to his penthouse flat when a figure stepped out of the shadows. His hands bunched into fists but he relaxed when he saw it was Halpin. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ asked Richards. ‘You almost gave me a bloody heart attack.’
‘Sorry boss, I wanted to know how it went, that’s all.’
‘So why stalk me? Couldn’t you have phoned?’
Halpin moved closer to Richards and lowered his voice. ‘No, I couldn’t phone because if the cops are on to us they’ll be listening in. You know what Five-O are like. They’ll be all over us until they’re sure they’ve got a cast iron case.’
Richards nodded and took out a cigar. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He bit off the end and spat it away, then lit it.
‘So how did it go?’ asked Halpin.
Richards blew a cloud of smoke before answering. ‘I think we’re okay.’
‘You think? We need more than that, boss.’
Richards narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re starting to piss me off, you know that?’
Halpin put up his hands. ‘I’m sorry, but this matters, boss. If she can identify us we’re going away for a long time.’
‘She was as sweet as a nut,’ said Richards. ‘Chatted away about her job and her family, said she might come on out to the club. I didn’t pick up on anything.’
‘But she’s an actress. Maybe she was acting.’
‘Yeah, but why meet me, why have lunch with me?’ said Richards. ‘If she’d recognised me, why not just call the cops?’
‘Maybe she was wired.’
They reached the lift and Richards pressed the call button. ‘Wired?’
‘Maybe the cops fitted her with a wire. Maybe they were listening in.’
‘What, while I confessed to murder in the studio canteen? You’ve been watching too much TV.’
‘Maybe she didn’t see everything. And don’t forget they don’t have a body and there’s bugger all forensics. Plus we’ve got alibis. So if she does go to the cops, chances are they’re going to be looking for us to confess.’
‘That’s not going to happen, is it?’
‘Which is why they might think about wiring her up.’
Richards blew smoke up at the roof of the car park as the lift doors opened. ‘She didn’t ask anything like that. It was just chit-chat.’
‘So you think we’re all good?’
Richards stepped into the lift and Halpin followed him. ‘I think so, yeah.’
‘Boss, we need more than that.’ The lifts doors closed and Halpin pressed the button for the top floor.
‘We’re in the clear,’ said Richards. ‘I’m sure of it. She didn’t see anything.’
Halpin nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. ‘So it’s business as usual?’
‘Yeah. You can start phoning me instead of jumping out of the shadows, and I’ll arrange to see The Mint tomorrow.’
CHAPTER 40
Carolyn waited until Saturday morning before phoning Maxwell Dunbar. She didn’t have his number stored in her phone but she had kept his business card. She’d put it in a large glass bowl with several hundred other cards and, when she got home, she tipped them out onto her dining table and spread them out. Dunbar’s was a plain white card with black lettering – Maxwell Dunbar Investigations. There was a landline and a mobile number. She tapped out the mobile number and Dunbar answered after a few seconds. ‘Max? It’s Carolyn. Carolyn Castle.’
‘Miss Castle, long time no hear. I hope your stalker isn’t back.’ He had a slight lisp and a habit of breathing too hard, as if he was asthmatic.
‘No, you sorted that little problem for me just fine, Max. But I have something else I need doing.’
‘At your service as always, Miss Castle.’
‘Max, I know it’s short notice but could you come around now? I’m working long days all this week and it’s fairly urgent.’
‘Not a problem, Miss Castle. Are you still in Notting Hill Gate?’
‘I am, Max. I’ll be waiting for you.’
Carolyn cut the connection. She made a cup of coffee and she was just finishing it when her doorbell rang. She had the door on the chain and checked through the viewer to make sure it was Dunbar before opening the door. He shook her hand, wiped his feet on the doormat, and took off his raincoat. She hung it on a coat rack and took him through to the kitchen. He sat down and exhaled. He was a heavy-set man in his early sixties. Carolyn had last seen him three years earlier but he seemed to have aged a decade. His hair was thinner and greyer and there was a waxy sheen to his face that suggested he wasn’t in the best of health. His beer gut strained at his shirt buttons and there was a dribble of something that could have been mustard down his shirt front.
‘Would you like a coffee, Max? Or water?’
He winked at her. ‘You know, a whisky would go down a treat and keep out the cold,’ he said. He tapped the side of his nose, which was threaded with red veins. ‘Maybe a splash of water, just to take the edge off.’
Carolyn went through to the sitting room and retrieved a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. She took it back to the kitchen, poured a decent measure into a glass and added some tapwater. He took it from her, raised the glass in salute, and drank almost half of it in one swallow. There was a sour smell coming from him as if he hadn’t bathed in a couple of days.
‘So what’s your problem, Miss Castle?’ he asked.
‘I need you to check someone out for me. A man I’ve met. Warwick Richards is his name.’
‘Warwick Richards?’
Carolyn nodded. ‘He’s about six two, good shape, dark hair, he’s clearly got money. Drives a Porsche Cayenne. He says he runs a nightclub in Leicester Square and has a few properties.’
‘And what do you want me to do?’ asked Dunbar.
‘I need to know everything about him. Who he is. Where he lives. Friends. Enemies.’
‘Is he giving you a problem, Miss Castle?’
‘Not really. I’ve met him and I just need to know more about him. Can you do that?’
‘Of course. Now you say you’ve met him. Did he give you a card?’