The Other Half Lives aka The Dead Lie Down

another go.’ Kerry shrugged. ‘I’m a funny guy. You’ve got to make the most of your talents in this world. I’m sorry to hear you’ve been neglecting yours since you got engaged. I’d heard calls to the Samaritans had been on the up recently-now I know why. You provided a valuable public service in your heyday.’

‘You know Aidan Seed,’ said Charlie. ‘You went to his private view at TiqTaq in 2000.’

‘Did I?’

‘You bought a painting. A few days after you collected it, you got a call from someone who wanted it enough to offer you more than you’d paid for it. A lot more.’

‘I never liked Seed and I liked his creepy pictures even less,’ said Kerry. ‘I wouldn’t have bought one if I hadn’t had too much to drink. He seemed to be going places, and I thought it’d be a good investment. As it turned out, I got to cash in sooner than I’d expected.’

‘You sold the picture you bought to a man called Maurice Blandford. Or perhaps that wasn’t his name. It might have been Abberton, or…’

‘You were right the first time. Maurice Blandford. Suck his cock, did you?’

‘No. If he exists, if he has a suckable cock, then no-I didn’t.’

‘All cocks are suckable,’ said Kerry. ‘Trust me, as the proud owner of a fine specimen.’

‘I assume you’re referring to a spare you keep in a jar somewhere, for special occasions?’

‘You said it.’

Damn. She should have thought ahead. She’d asked for that one.

‘Did Aidan Seed hire you to follow Ruth Bussey? To find out about her background?’

‘It’s the same rule for you as for Neil Dunning esquire.’ Kerry took a sip of a drink that looked like port before smiling sympathetically at Charlie. ‘Worse for you, since you’re in no position to come back in the morning with a warrant. Face it: you’re out in the cold. This’ll tickle you: Dunning asked me if I thought you and Waterhouse could be trusted.’ He grinned, genuinely pleased to be delivering the news. ‘Don’t worry, I stuck up for you. If it makes you feel any better, Dunning’ll get nothing from me, warrant or no warrant, so you can’t accuse me of not playing fair.’

He looked serious for the first time since Charlie had arrived. ‘I’m not the Salvation Army, sweetheart. I help people only after money’s changed hands. Outside of that, I don’t tell and I don’t ask. I’m not curious, see. That’s the most important asset someone in my delicate position can have, let me tell you. Have I asked you who Maurice Blandford is?’ He licked his finger and tapped the air, awarding a point to himself.

‘Did you meet Blanford?’ Charlie asked. ‘Or did he send a courier for the picture, and transfer the money directly into your bank account? He did, didn’t he? Did that strike you as odd at the time?’

‘The only thing striking me as odd are your questions. And Dunning’s. Putting it all together, I’d say Aidan Seed’s mixed up in the suspicious death Dunning’s fretting about, and maybe Maurice Blandford is too, but I don’t know how, and I don’t care. Like I say, money has to change hands.’

‘I don’t suppose you’ve still got the bank statement with the account name and number on it? From the transfer?’

Kerry snickered. ‘This is what I love about you: that faint whiff of desperation-your signature scent.’

Charlie persisted. ‘How much did Blandford give you for the picture? Was it something in the region of eight thousand pounds?’

‘If you’re waiting for me to ask how you know all this, you’re in for a long wait,’ said Kerry. ‘I don’t pry, in case it leads to a conflict of interests.’ He raised his glass, clinked it against Charlie’s. ‘I’ve got my sponsor to think of, my early retirement. My name in lights outside comedy clubs…’

‘Sponsor?’

He patted her hand. ‘It all comes down, in life, to whose side you’re on. You’re on Simon Waterhouse’s side- that’s why your career and love life are going down the pan. Me? I’m on the side of my clients, because, at the end of the day, they pay the bills.’

‘You said “sponsor” singular.’ Kerry looked put out. Charlie licked her finger and notched up a point to herself. ‘Money seems to like you, Kerry. First you buy a painting by a guy you can’t stand for-what, a grand? Two? And a stranger offers you eight for it when you’ve had it less than a month.’

‘I talked him up to ten, actually,’ he corrected her. ‘And it was less than a week.’

Charlie believed him about his lack of curiosity. She also knew that, like most men, he had to prove he knew more, had to be the one steering things. ‘Then you get yourself a client who pays over the odds,’ she went on, hoping she’d guessed right. ‘She pays you so much, you can think about giving up work and wasting the rest of your life antagonising tiny audiences in dingy pubs and clubs all over the country. Your sponsor. Not Aidan Seed. You said you didn’t like him, so it can’t be him who’s bought your loyalty. It’s Mary Trelease, isn’t it? She’s the one who paid you to tail Ruth Bussey.’

Mary, with her refined accent and her Villiers education, so out of place on the Winstanley estate. Who else could it be? ‘Or Gemma Crowther,’ Charlie added, just in case. ‘Which one’s funding your comedy comeback? Mary or Gemma?’

‘Neither.’ Kerry looked smug. ‘Unless one of them left a will I’ve yet to hear about.’

‘What did you say?’

‘You’re barking up the wrong tree.’ He pronounced each word slowly and carefully as if he was talking to an imbecile.

Pretend you know already. Pretend you know what he knows, or thinks he knows. ‘Did Aidan Seed kill Gemma Crowther? Did he kill Mary Trelease?’

Kerry’s eyes narrowed. He looked like a smug cat. ‘I’ll give you this much: you’re one step ahead of your Cockney counterpart. ’

‘Dunning didn’t know Mary Trelease was dead,’ said Charlie, aware of her pulse charging beneath her skin.

‘He seemed a mite confused,’ Kerry agreed.

‘He talked about her as if she was still alive. Asked you if you knew her.’ Charlie didn’t know where she was going with this, but it felt right. She wished Simon was with her. ‘Did you tell him she was dead?’

Kerry held up his hands. ‘Not my responsibility to set him straight. If he comes back with his warrant tomorrow as promised, he’ll get no illumination from me, nor from my pristine office. I don’t tell anyone anything.’

‘Unless cash changes hands. I know,’ said Charlie impatiently. ‘All right, then-how much? Name your price for telling me everything you know that relates to Aidan Seed, Mary Trelease…’

‘Charlie, sweetheart, don’t demean yourself. You’re not going to be able to claim it back on expenses, you know.’

‘… and Martha Wyers.’

That wiped the smile off his face.

‘Dunning didn’t ask you about her, did he? Come on, name your price.’

‘I’m out of your league,’ said Kerry. ‘Financially speaking. Unless you’re offering payment in kind.’ He stared at Charlie’s chest and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. ‘I might be persuaded. ’

‘Yeah, right. Is your bedroom still covered in fake leopard skins?’

‘Leopard skins are sexy, senorita.’

‘Not when they’re covered in spilled Weetabix, they’re not.’ Saying this reminded Charlie of who she was talking to. He’ll get no illumination from my pristine office. Nothing about Kerry Gatti was pristine. He was the same self-satisfied slob he’d always been. There was an open briefcase at his feet. He’d wedged it between his legs.

Charlie pushed her lime cordial and soda over to him. ‘I’m going to get a real drink,’ she said. Kerry opened his book as she stood up. Maybe he really did want to read about black holes. If only he would fall into one.

At the bar, Charlie showed her police ID to two young men standing beside her. ‘For twenty quid each, I need you to start giving me a hard time,’ she told them. ‘Loud enough for the whole pub to hear. Accuse me of pushing in.’

‘’Ey?’ said one, slow on the uptake.

‘Let’s see the money, then,’ said his friend. Checking Kerry was busy with Stephen Hawking, Charlie gave them each a ?20 note. They started laughing.

‘Is that the best you can do?’ she said. She didn’t need Oscar-winning performances from them, only a bit of high-volume aggression. They looked the sort who ought to be able to manage it. In the end, Charlie had to