‘Yeah? Well, if I want to know what you think I’ll fucking well ask you. Until then you keep your mouth shut, okay?’
Halpin nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But do me a favour and put the address into the SatNav will you? I don’t know my way around that part of London. It’s out of my price range.’
CHAPTER 65
The SatNav announced they were about to arrive at their destination. Richards and Halpin looked around but there was nothing to indicate it was anything other than a normal, peaceful evening in one of London’s most expensive residential areas. ‘Just drive by, nice and slow,’ said Richards. ‘Her place is on the left. There’s a Japanese cherry tree out front.’
Halpin nodded and edged the car forward. Richards could feel his heart pounding and he took slow deep breaths. He knew he was being stupid. Carolyn Castle was dead. The house was empty. It couldn’t possibly have been her driving the white Audi. It was stress, nothing more. He needed alcohol, that would help him relax. A few drinks at the club and he’d be okay. He needed some female company, ideally long-legged and large breasted, someone to take his mind off Carolyn.
‘You’re right, Mick,’ he said quietly. ‘This is a waste of time. Take me home. I’ll have a few hours kip and then we’ll hit the club.’ He settled back in the seat. That was when they saw the white Audi TT parked outside Carolyn’s house.
CHAPTER 66
Richards got out of the Lexus and slammed the door shut. Halpin pressed the button to wind down the window. ‘Boss, I should come with you,’ he said.
Richards shook his head. ‘I’m just going to have a look-see,’ he said.
‘Boss, it can’t be her. She’s dead.’
‘I know.’
‘I dropped that trunk over the side and she was in it.’
‘So you say.’
‘What, you think I’m lying?’
‘Fuck Mick, I don’t know what to think.’ He pointed at the Audi. ‘All I know is that’s the car I saw and she was driving it. So you just sit tight while I take a look.’ He walked away, slipping his hands into his pockets. He walked up to the car and bent down to look inside the two-seater. There was nothing inside to give a clue as to who owned it, it was as pristine as the day it had rolled off the production line. He peered under the car. The road there was wet, which suggested that the car had been somewhere else during the rainstorm. He straightened up and walked towards Carolyn’s house. She couldn’t be there, he knew that. It couldn’t have been her he’d seen driving the Audi. But the car was there and he hadn’t imagined that.
He pushed open the wrought iron gate and walked down the path. He looked at the front door and wondered if he should ring the doorbell. Carolyn lived alone and she was dead so there was no point, he decided. The path led around to the back of the house and he followed it, treading softly. There was another wrought iron gate at the side of the house and he opened that. There was a paved terrace and beyond it a manicured lawn and, in the distance, a well-tended rockery. He walked on to the terrace. There was a brick barbecue and a round teak table with six chairs around it. He took a deep breath. He could imagine sitting with Carolyn at the table, drinking a decent bottle of wine and looking out over the garden. The house was in central London but the garden wasn’t overlooked and there was a countryside feel to it.
He took out his cigar case and turned to look at the house. To the right was a conservatory filled with palms and ferns, and next to it was a set of French windows leading to her sitting room. He tapped out a cigar. He was just putting it to his mouth when Carolyn walked into the sitting room. She dropped a book onto a sofa and then turned towards the window. When she saw him she opened her mouth and screamed. The cigar fell from his hand as he stared at her in horror.
CHAPTER 67
Richards took a step back as the French windows opened. ‘Who are you and what are you doing in the garden?’ she asked.
Richards opened his mouth but he couldn’t speak. His hands were shaking and his throat had gone dry. He swallowed and almost gagged.
‘If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.’ She held up a mobile phone. ‘I’ve already pressed two nines, one more and I’m on to the police.’
‘Carolyn?’
‘What? Who are you?’
‘Carolyn, it’s me. Warwick.’
She frowned. ‘Warwick?’
‘For God’s sake, what are you playing at?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Warwick? Warwick Richards? You’re Warwick Richards?’
‘What?’
She lowered the phone. ‘I went to your flat this evening but you weren’t in.’
‘What?’
‘You like to say that a lot, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘There you go again.’
‘Carolyn, what the hell is going on?’
She grinned. ‘You see that’s why you’re looking so confused. I’m not Carolyn. I’m her sister, Jenny.’ She held out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Jenny?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Her sister? Carolyn’s sister.’
‘Now you’re getting it.’
‘Her twin sister?’
‘See, there’s no flies on you.’ She pushed her hand towards him. ‘Nice to finally meet you.’
Richards reached out and shook her hand.
She laughed. ‘You don’t have much of a grip, do you, Warwick?’
He realised she had an Australian accent. And her hair was shorter than Carolyn’s. And lighter. But, other than that, she was an identical twin.
‘Carolyn never said she had a sister,’ said Richards.
‘I’m the black sheep of the family,’ said Jenny, running a hand through her hair. ‘So where is she?’
‘What?’
‘There you go again with the “what”. My sister, where the hell is she?’
Richards shrugged and shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘That’s why I came around.’
‘I didn’t hear you ring the bell.’
Richards feigned surprise. ‘I did. There was no answer so I was going to knock on the back door.’
‘At midnight?’
Richards stared at her, unable to think of anything to say.
‘Well you’d better come in,’ she said. She pointed at the cigar that he’d dropped. ‘Are you going to get that?’
Richards picked it up and followed her into the sitting room. ‘Are you going to smoke it or throw it away?’ she asked as she closed the French windows.
‘I’ve got plenty more,’ he said, dropping it into a wastepaper basket.
She walked past him and he followed her through the hallway and into the kitchen. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked. ‘I was going to open a bottle of wine.’ She pulled open the fridge door and took out a bottle of Chardonnay. ‘You don’t know where she keeps her corkscrew, do you? I’m still finding my way around.’
‘This is the first time I’ve been here,’ he said.
‘Really? I got the impression you two were close.’
‘She said that?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’ She opened a drawer but it only contained cutlery. ‘You know, generally I get screw-tops so I don’t have this problem.’
Richards pointed at a rack of green-handled cooking utensils hanging from a rack to the left of the Aga. In the middle was a corkscrew.
‘Excellent,’ she said, reaching for it. ‘Now, why don’t you make yourself useful and find a couple of glasses while I open this.’
Richards started opening cupboards and at the third attempt he found the wine glasses. He put two down on the marble counter and Jenny poured wine into both.