8 LOUISE
Irina (Hamish’s Mum)
No answer was forthcoming.
If Irina had recognised Phil, she would have said something before now. I slipped the phone into my pocket and looked at the notebook in front of me. Instead of the usual notes (and doodles) from my afternoon meetings, I’d started to jot down a few theories on his death. They were roughly broken down into three categories:
- 1. Self-inflicted
- Overdose: drugs? Alcohol? No wound visible. No outward signs of overdose – something else?
- Location: why the park? Sentimental? To be close to his dog’s playground?
- Why was his wallet (or phone) found binned?
- Note: check with his girlfriend (Grace?)
- 2. Accident
- Hit & run: why spend the time dumping the body and hiding his phone (or wallet)?
- ??
- 3. Murder/Homicide
- Targeted Murder: what is the motive?
- Indirect: had Phil stumbled on something? Witnessed something he shouldn’t have?
- Crime of Opportunity: yobs looking for trouble?
- Location: why the park? Why not the canal?
- ???
I hadn’t gotten far, and I kept feeling like I was missing something.
I drew arrows from points one and three to a new column on the opposite page.
- Who would know? (It seemed better to put that than ‘suspects’)
- Grace (Surname? Was she still with him?) – see who has her current details if she’s not still in the Partridge Bark group
- Friends
- Work (Rivalries? Money issues?)
- Known Enemies/Rivals/Adversaries?
- Any exes? Who would know?
- ??
They were the usual groups of people, from what I had learned from a lifetime of reading crime books, and as good a place to start as any.
I closed the notebook and stared at it. The coroner would run a tox screen that would presumably confirm whether Phil’s death was self-inflicted or rule it out. The police would check whatever CCTV existed and speak with any witnesses they could find. Heaven only knew how long that’d take, or whether they’d be able to find someone who could tell them enough about Phil to provide a clue as to why he died.
Klaus was getting restless, so I packed up my stuff. My next meeting wasn’t for another hour, so I slipped in my earbuds and phoned Babs while we walked home along the canal.
She answered on the first ring. ‘Heard you had a bit of excitement in the area over the weekend.’
‘The dead guy in the park?’ I cringed, hoping that no one at work had realised that I was involved.
‘Yeah. Found by two women walking their dogs. Utter tosh. No chance it was the women. I read somewhere that something like a hundred dead people are found each year by joggers and dog walkers, but it never is the dog walker is it? It’s the dog. It’s always the dog.’
‘Dogs do have better noses than humans,’ I agreed. ‘Anyway, the article said he was working at a financial tech company down in the Wharf.’
‘A fintech? Which one? Anyone we’re doing work for?’
‘Fidelio Technologies.’ Thanks to Companies House, it had been easy enough to find out where Phil had worked. ‘I think they were launching something with financial services automation. We spoke to them a while back, but they weren’t at a point where we could start anything.’
‘Ahhh, FidTech. Their motto was “FidTech for fintech”, wasn’t it? So, you met him then?’
‘No, that day we pitched to the COO, Tabitha Halder, and a few people on her team. There were three of them who started the company: Phil Creasy was the CEO and handled the clients and investors. Probably sales too. The CTO guy was called Jim Clark. They branched out from there.’
‘Okay. You have the memory of an elephant. So, where’s the question in there?’
It was less the memory of an elephant and more the result of online searches, but I was starting to run into walls.
‘Can you do me a favour – find out what you can about them. I want to know who the shareholders are. The dynamics between the partners. The culture. Morale of their staff. Any financial troubles they might be having.’
‘Anything the internet can’t dish up, you mean.’
‘Yes.’
‘Any reason that their chief was killed. Assuming, of course, that he was killed.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Okay. So you’re joining the Met Police now?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ I could almost see Babs roll her eyes. ‘Look, I knew the guy. Not professionally, but from the park. I’m sure the police will be asking the same questions, but I feel like I owe it to him.’
Because I knew him, or because I found him?
Because I’d let him go when Alfie had passed away and he’d stopped coming to the park. I’d texted a couple of times. Kept meaning to call to offer condolences. But I didn’t have the words, and I’d used the silence on his part as an excuse to stop trying. To my shame.
‘Okay, Lou. I’ll have a nose around.’
‘Thanks. And if you can get me a meeting with one of them, that would be great.’
‘Gotcha. Anything else? The real identity of Jack the Ripper?’
‘Cute. Okay, don’t worry about the meeting, they’ll be up to their eyeballs on damage control anyway. And seriously, this is a personal favour. Only do it if you have the time.’ I took a deep breath and redirected the conversation to one we were both more comfortable with. ‘On the subject of tech firms, thanks for the heads-up about Gen. Also, the status reports are nicely worded, but I sense that the team are skating around something.’
Babs laughed. ‘Not so much skating around. It’s just that there’s not a lot more to say from last week. The contract is agreed in principle, but we’re waiting on the paperwork. If I were a betting person, I’d say that the CFO is about to start playing games.’
‘What sort of games?’
I could almost hear Babs’s frown. ‘If it’s not one thing, it’s another, and we’re well into the realm of pedantic here. I’ll bet you dinner that they’re waiting on another bid to try to renegotiate our rates.’
I’d spent enough time with Gen to know where this was coming from.
‘Moany Tony.’ I sighed. I hadn’t been the one to coin that nickname, but it described Tony Frater quite well. Along with his other title, Gen’s Chief Frugal Officer. ‘What’s that phrase? Penny wise, but pound foolish? If they can find a better team who’re cheaper, then good on them. But if Tony thinks he can make us sweat enough to lower the rates, then he’s going to be disappointed.’
‘We have more work than people,’ Babs agreed. ‘And if our bid for the City contract comes through, we might not need him.’
‘Okay. Let’s see how that plays out before we burn any bridges, Babs. Have the team continue handover documentation on the assumption someone else will pick up the next stage, and if we get it, great.’
‘Which leads me to another point. That documentation might take a little longer than usual; Mandy Barker called in sick today.’
Mandy was one of our best analysts and one of the few people who could work with Moany Tony. That she wasn’t well could make things trickier.
‘Is she all right?’
‘She didn’t sound herself, but I’ll keep an eye on it.’ Babs took a deep breath. ‘Hey, Lou. Don’t take this the wrong way, but people are getting killed in your ’hood. Promise me you won’t take Klausi out for a walk by yourself, okay? Or poke your nose into something that could get you in trouble.’
She was the second person in two days to say that, and I was fast losing patience with people warning me off doing the right thing.
‘I can handle myself, Babs.’
‘I know you can, but I also know what you’re like when you get the bit between your teeth. I just don’t want to have to bail you out for kicking anyone’s arse. It’ll look bad on the quarterly reports.’
My laugh turned wry as Klaus began to bark. ‘Not sure if he’s agreeing with you or not,’ I said, ‘but I’ve got to run.’
I hit the red button to end the call and scowled at my hound. ‘You haven’t barked this much in ages. What’s going on with you?’
His attention wasn’t directed at me, and I followed his gaze towards a man holding the lead of a grey Staffordshire terrier with white markings on his chest. The same Staffie that had moved in the other day. The bigger dog gave Klaus an amused look, as if to say, ‘I could eat you for breakfast, and you’re barking at me?’
‘Don’t worry, he’s friendly,’ the man said. He was an inch or two above six feet and looked like he worked out – a bonus when you had such a muscular dog.
‘So is Klaus.’ I found myself staring up into a rugged face. Dark blue eyes and a strong jawline that was enhanced rather than concealed by black stubble. I felt my mouth go dry. ‘Barky, but friendly.’
The man smiled and eased a little slack into the Staffie’s lead so the dogs could sniff each other. ‘You’re local?’
‘With this accent?’ I laughed. ‘No. Originally from Connecticut but I’ve lived around here for a few years.’
‘Right.’ His voice was low and raspy, as if he smoked two packs a day. His own accent was harder to place. British, but without any strong regional tones. Except for the slightest growl of the Rs. ‘We just moved to the area. I don’t suppose you can recommend a GP practice in the area and a vet for Luther?’
We. As in, him and his partner, or him and his dog?
‘Well, I use the GP over by the Tube station.’ My voice warbled like a teenage boy’s. I cleared my throat and pointed at a shopfront just down the street. ‘Klaus is registered with Village Vets over there. Most of the locals have their pets registered with them.’ I lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘And you can usually get an appointment when you need one. With the vet at least, it’s a bit trickier with the GP.’
He laughed. ‘They’re decent, then? The vets?’
‘The worst thing I can say is that they do the hard sell on whatever brands they’re trying to flog. Whether your dog needs them or not.’
He grunted and put a large hand on the Staffie’s broad head. His smile was wry and sort of sweet. ‘I can handle a hard sell.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as bad as I feared. ‘This is Klaus, by the way. And I’m Louise.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ One large hand reached out and enfolded mine in a warm grip. ‘Jake. And this is Luther. Good to meet you, Louise. And Klaus.’
He turned and began to walk away.
‘The local dog park is Partridge Park,’ I called after him. ‘Just down the canal from here. We have a WhatsApp group for the dogs. Mostly to share information, like who’s down at the park so our dogs have friends to play with, that sort of thing.’
Oh, and it’s where we discuss the dead body that my friend and I found yesterday.
Damn. Good way to scare him out of the neighbourhood, genius.
Too late. Jake had already closed the gap between us.
‘Sounds useful.’ He held out his hand for my phone and entered his name and number as a contact. ‘Thank you.’
With a wave he turned and left, walking past the entrance to the canal.
‘Hey, Jake,’ I found myself calling out.
He turned and looked at me, his expression inscrutable. ‘Yeah?’
I wasn’t sure what I’d intended to say until the words blurted out: ‘Fancy getting an ice cream some time? There’s a good shop not too far away.’
Slick, Mallory.
‘Just to welcome you to the neighbourhood,’ I added, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.
His eyebrows raised, but the smile was genuine. He gave me the thumbs-up and continued towards the High Street, and presumably Village Vets.
Something cracked against my ankle and I looked down. Klaus had found a fallen branch about three times longer than he was and had managed to hold it aloft.
‘You’re not keeping it,’ I told his black-and-tan posterior as he strutted down the street with it. ‘Bloody hell, Klaus, how are you even able to pick that up? And just so we’re clear, you’re absolutely not taking it into the flat.’
Still holding the stick, he paused, delicately balanced on three paws as he raised the fourth to wee on a littered takeaway bag. He glanced back at me, a definite challenge in his eyes.
I’d once read that if someone was looking for a cute little pet, not to get a dachshund. That sausage dogs are like little toddlers in fur coats. Sassy, smart and, above all, stubborn.
That didn’t cover the half of it, but they were also – in my completely biased opinion – the best breed in the world.
Klaus put down the stick, only to readjust his grip on it. Picking it up again, he led the way home.