The nail file vanished from sight.
“No, Mr. Wheelan. She’s an old friend of mine. Popped in to see if I’ve time for a drink before I go home.” She stared hard at Roz, her eyes demanding support. There was a curious intimacy in her expression as if she and Roz already shared a secret.
Roz smiled amiably and glanced at her watch.
“It’s nearly six now,” she said.
“Half an hour won’t delay you too much, will it?”
The man made shooing motions with his hands.
“You two get on then. I’ll lock up tonight.” He paused in the doorway, his forehead wrinkling anxiously.
“You didn’t forget to send someone to Hasler’s, did you?”
“No, Mr. Wheelan. Eddy went two hours ago.”
“Good, good. Have a nice weekend. What about Prestwick’s?”
“All done, Mr. Wheelan. There’s nothing outstanding.” Mamie raised her eyes to heaven as he closed the door behind him.
“He drives me mad,” she muttered.
“Fuss, fuss, fuss, all the time.
Come on, quick, before he changes his mind. Friday evenings are always the worst.” She scurried across to the door and started down the stairs.
“He hates weekends, that’s his trouble, thinks the business is going to fold because we have two consecutive days without orders. He’s paranoid. Had me working Saturday mornings last year till he realised we were simply sitting around twiddling our thumbs because none of the offices we deal with open on a Saturday.” She pushed through the bottom door and stepped out on to the pavement.
“Look, we can forget about that drink. I’d like to get home in reasonable time for once.” She looked at Roz, measuring the other’s reaction.
Roz shrugged.
“Fine. I’ll go and talk to Mr. Wheelan about Olive Martin. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.”
Mamie tapped her foot impatiently.
“You’ll get me sacked.”
“You talk to me then.”
There was a long pause while the other woman considered her options.
“I’ll tell you what I know, as long as you keep it to yourself,” she said at last.
“Is that a deal? It’s not going to help you one little bit, so you won’t need to use it.”
“Suits me,” said Roz.
“We’ll talk as we walk. The station’s this way. If we hurry I might be able to catch the six thirty.”
Roz caught her arm to hold her back.
“My car’s over there,” she said.
“I’ll drive you instead.” She took Mamie across the road and unlocked the passenger door.
“OK,” she said, getting in the other side and starting the engine.
“Fire away.”
“I did know of her, or at least I knew of an Olive Martin. I can’t swear it’s the same one because I never saw her, but the description sounded right when I read about her in the newspaper. I’ve always assumed it was the same person.”
“Who gave you her description?” asked Roz, turning into the main road.
“There’s no point asking questions,” snapped Marie.
“It’ll just take longer. Let me tell the story my way.” She collected her thoughts.
“I said back there that we hardly ever see customers. Sometimes office managers come in to suss out what sort of operation we run, but normally it’s all done by telephone. Somebody wants something delivered, they phone us and we dispatch a rider, simple as that. Well, one lunchtime, when Wheelan was out getting his sandwiches, this man came into the office. He had a letter that he wanted delivered that afternoon to a Miss Olive Martin. He was prepared to pay over the odds if the dispatch rider would hang around outside where she worked and give it to her quietly as she was leaving.
He was absolutely adamant that it wasn’t to be taken inside and said he was sure I understood why.”
Roz forgot herself.
“And did you?”
“I assumed they were having an affair and that neither of them wanted people asking questions. Anyway, he gave me a twenty quid note for the one letter, and we’re talking six years ago, remember, plus a very good description of Olive Martin, right down to the clothes she was wearing that day. Well, I thought it was a one-off and as that old bastard Wheelan pays peanuts at the best of times, I pocketed the cash and didn’t bother to record the transaction. Instead, I got one of our riders who lived in Dawlington to do it freelance, as it were, on his way home. He got ten for doing virtually nothing and I kept the other ten.” She motioned with her hand.
