The floors were wooden, the walls neutral. They held paintings that were clearly original, but not original enough to command huge sums, gallery space or column inches. The office furniture managed to look both expensive and minimal.
The ground floor was taken up by a firm of accountants. On the next two floors were Fenton Associates, solicitors, and above them on the smallest, cramped floor, a marketing company. There was an air of excitement in the law offices as suited and tied people, normally more at home with spreadsheets and files, craned their collective necks to see what was going on opposite. When Mickey entered, they transferred their attention to him.
‘So, Detective Philips, your uniformed officers have been questioning my staff. I presume it’s in connection with whatever’s going on down there.’ She pointed to the window.
‘That’s right.’
‘And what is that, exactly?’ Taking charge again.
‘I’m afraid I can’t say at the moment.’
‘Oh please, Detective Philips. We’re all legal professionals here.’
Mickey thought for a moment. ‘Fenton Associates. I’ve not heard of you before.’
‘No reason why you should,’ said Lynn Windsor. ‘We’re corporate, not criminal. We cover most of East Anglia. Specialise in blue-chip companies.’ She smiled again. ‘We don’t bail out New Town drug dealers.’
Mickey smiled. ‘Must be why we’ve never met before.’
‘Must be.’ She straightened up. He tried hard not to look at her breasts. Failed. ‘And what do you do, Detective Sergeant? Catch criminals? Solve murders?’ Her smiled widened, became more teasing. ‘Deal with major incidents?’
Mickey felt uncomfortable. She had him again. He was sure he was blushing. ‘That sort of thing, yeah.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Keep up the good work.’
‘Er, thanks… ’ Mickey looked down at his notepad, tried to hide his discomfort. ‘You, er, wanted to see me, Ms Windsor?’
She sat back, smiling. Thinking. Those breasts of hers were large, Mickey noticed once more. ‘Call me Lynn, please. Sounds like you’re talking to my mother. And I can call you…?’
‘Mickey.’ He looked quickly away, hoping he hadn’t been caught staring. If he had, she didn’t let on.
‘So,’ she said, ‘you want my help and the co-operation of my staff, but you won’t tell me what’s happened.’
‘I’m afraid… ’
The smile dropped. She became businesslike. ‘I appreciate what you’re saying, but perhaps you should see things from my side.’
Mickey waited.
‘What if one of my staff has seen something? Something that places them in danger?’
‘Might they have done?’
Lynn Windsor shrugged. Mickey tried not to watch her breasts move as she did so. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps they could identify someone who might later come back to harm them. Or say something that could inadvertently incriminate them even though they’re innocent?’
Mickey gave a small smile. ‘You’ve been watching too much TV.’
‘Really? You’re saying that never happens in real life?’
‘Not as often as you think. Not really.’
She leaned back, eyes on him all the time. Mickey felt like he was being appraised. Like there was more to this conversation than the words on the surface. But he didn’t know what.
‘I’m a solicitor and you’re a police officer,’ she said. ‘We both know it does happen. Before any of my staff speak, I would need guarantees of protection.’
‘You can have them,’ he said. ‘If it comes to that. But I doubt it. It’s just routine questioning.’
‘And we can’t ask what’s going on? We heard a lot of screaming down there earlier today. What was that?’
He opened his mouth to reply.
‘You can’t say,’ she said. ‘Right.’ She sat forward, steepled her fingers. Eyes never leaving him. Mind seemingly made up. ‘All right, then. Ask me what you want to know.’
He asked her. Had she seen anyone entering or leaving the crumbling building? Only occasional workmen. They had erected the fence, put up the signs. Had there been anyone there recently? Not that she had seen. What about the other houses? The ones down below? Her expression changed.
‘Ah.’ She sat back. ‘There was… someone down there.’
‘Who?’
‘A tramp, I think. A homeless person. Someone was living in that derelict house, the one at the end of the garden. We would find evidence that someone had tried to break into this building at night. We assumed it was him. We initiated legal proceedings, got him to leave. Then we contacted the council, asked them to board it up. That seemed to take care of the problem.’
Mickey glanced at his notebook, ready to ask another question. Lynn Windsor silenced him. ‘I’m afraid that’s all the time I can spare today. I have a client coming in.’ She stood up, came round the desk. Smiled once more, held her eyes on his. ‘But if there’s anything I can do to help… ’ She handed him her card. ‘Anything further you want to ask me… ’
He stood, went to take her card. Noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Was about to speak when his eye was drawn to someone walking past the office window. A tall man, middle-aged, well-dressed. He didn’t look happy. Another middle-aged man was ushering him quickly into the next office along.
‘Who’s that?’ said Mickey. He was sure he recognised him.
Lynn Windsor’s gaze followed his. ‘One of our clients.’ Her smile had disappeared. ‘I’m afraid I have work to do. You’ll have to leave.’
‘What’s his name?’
Lynn Windsor’s smile returned. But it was hard, professional. No warmth to it. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give that out. Some of our clients prefer to remain anonymous. We have to respect their wishes.’
‘Right… ’
She placed her hand on the small of his back, ushering him out of the office. At the doorway she stopped. Body blocking his view of the next office along. ‘Do you have a card? Some way for me to get in touch with you?’
‘Uh, yes… ’ He dug into his jacket, handed one over.
‘Thank you. If I think of anything else, can I call you?’ Eyes full on him. ‘Or you can call me… ’
Mickey was flustered once more. ‘Yeah… sure.’
Another dazzling smile. ‘I’d like that.’ She turned, motioned to a pretty girl seated at a desk. ‘Stephanie will see you out.’
Mickey said goodbye and left.
Head spinning from the encounter. Hoping he would see her again. Wondering just who the man was. He couldn’t think of where he had seen him.
But he knew it wasn’t good news.
18
At least he had stopped screaming, thought Anni. That was something.
The boy from the cage lay in front of them. Completely still, eyes wide open, staring straight ahead. Like an animal hiding in plain view, frozen. Thinking that if he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see him.
Anni tried another smile. ‘What’s your name?’
Nothing. Just those eyes, unblinking.
Dr Ubha was standing behind them both, monitoring the situation. She had been first in the room when they heard the screaming. Had ducked to avoid a plastic tumbler aimed at her head. When they had stepped into the darkened room, they had seen a water jug lying on its side where he had thrown it, the floor wet. He was kicking, thrashing, trying to pull the feeding drip from the back of his hand, escape from the tightly made bed covers.
