25 LOUISE
Irina (Hamish’s Mum)
I leaned against the bollard, still breathing heavily from my sprint across the street, feeling winded. Fi’s words bubbled through my mind; had I painted a target on my back? Was someone trying to kill me? My heart raced, and a cold sweat trickled down my spine.
Get a grip, Lou, I told myself. The boy racers speed through every bloody day. Fi was almost clipped last week, and Yaz has the council on speed dial over them. You were just distracted…
I forced my breathing to slow and sat on a low wall until my vision cleared enough to reread Irina’s message. And immediately felt my heart rate increase again. Macho Mike had beaten up his then-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend. Seemed better than average odds that he’d done it again, but how the devil was I going to find out where he was the night Phil died? Ask Grace?
No, she’d only tell me that Mike couldn’t have done it. People rarely believed bad things about people they cared for. And if it came to it, Grace was a barrister; she’d know how to protect him.
If she chose to.
Irina (Hamish’s Mum)
Maybe Witness Protection? 
It was a fair point.
‘Louise?’
I started and looked around, blinking in the bright sunlight.
The man walking towards me was waving, but I was damned if I could place him. He was well dressed; far better than the average person on the street in this part of East London. Burnished hair and a round face that looked incongruous above a toned physique. I raised my hand in a half-hearted wave. ‘Hey.’
The man pushed a pair of black Prada sunglasses to the top of his head. His blue eyes were friendly, jogging my memory.
‘Don’t worry, it took me a second too, Louise, but Klaus was a giveaway.’ He leaned forward to stroke him, but Klaus moved back, making a low guttural sound. And for me, that was the giveaway.
‘Afternoon, Dr Cooper. Not sure I’ve ever seen you outside Village Vets, let alone wearing civvies.’
‘Call me Ben,’ he corrected me, laughing. ‘I’ve got to say, you had some form, moving across the street like that. Glad you’re okay. People drive their cars way too fast along this stretch.’
‘Hadn’t noticed.’
‘Yeah. And I’m also sure you hadn’t noticed the way they use the zebra crossings to see how close they can get without drawing blood.’ Dr Cooper shook his head. ‘Sooner or later, they will, too. I don’t suppose you got a good enough description to tell the police?’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘All I saw was a blue car. Couldn’t even tell you what type. Did you see anything?’
He shook his head. ‘Too far away. Did you see the driver?’
Tapping into my memory only brought on the panic of seeing the car coming straight at me. Had the driver been young? Old? Dark or fair? Wearing a hat? ‘I don’t know.’
He nodded sympathetically. ‘They’re a terror, but I’m glad you and Klaus are all right.’
Klaus might have had other thoughts; being in proximity to the vet, even though Dr Cooper wasn’t in scrubs, was unacceptable. Another low growl vibrated through his body, a precursor to a full-on bark-fest. I handed him a treat to head it off.
‘Sounds like you could do with a drink,’ Dr Cooper said. ‘It’s almost five. I’ve been at work since eight and missed lunch. I’m starving. Fancy a trip down to the Wharf? Pergola? The Parlour? The Ivy? All of them are dog-friendly.’ He winked. ‘And I can drive if being a pedestrian is too daunting at the moment.’
‘You have a car? Where do you travel in from?’
‘Canary Wharf.’ He leaned in and whispered as if we were in an al fresco confessional. ‘I usually take the DLR, but it’s convenient to park the car here.’
Convenient equals cheap. A parking spot in the Wharf probably cost as much as a bedsit in Poplar.
‘Thanks, but I’m okay to walk.’
‘You sure?’ He gave me a conspiratorial smile. ‘It’s a beautiful evening and the new Merc’s a convertible. Come on, Louise, it just arrived. Give me a chance to show it off.’
‘As tempting as that sounds, I really can’t go too far. I’m meeting a friend at six.’ Actually, my plan was to go to the Wharf and gatecrash Fidelio’s drinks, but Ben Cooper didn’t need to know that, and Meg hadn’t yet texted the location. ‘Happy to do a quick drink at the Hound, though.’
He nodded, ‘As the lady wishes.’
Good.
We walked a few feet in companionable silence, a question preying on my mind. It might be opportunistic to ask him, but it couldn’t hurt to try. ‘I hear there’ve been a number of poisonings in the neighbourhood. My new neighbour’s dog being one of them.’
He nodded, running fingers through his hair. ‘Who’s your neighbour?’
‘Jake Hathaway. His dog is a Staffie. Luther.’
He nodded again. ‘Grey with white, right? I remember him. Your neighbour was lucky he acted quickly. We have some people who wait for hours before bringing in a sick dog and then blame us when we can’t save them.’
‘That happens a lot?’
He shrugged. ‘Sometimes. Usually if the cat or dog ate something they shouldn’t have, and the owners are too embarrassed to admit what happened. Or sometimes they just wait until they have the time to bring their pets to us.’
‘Why be embarrassed?’
‘Some of the things the dogs eat shouldn’t be within their reach. Same as with kids.’
‘But that wasn’t the case with Luther. I heard he ate something outside.’
Dr Cooper shrugged again. ‘That’s what we were told. Truth is, I’m not one to judge, and I’m not sure it matters. What matters is that he got Luther to us in time, and we were able to get the poison out of Luther’s body.’
‘True.’
We reached the Hound, and Dr Cooper leaned around me to open the door. The sun reflected off gold cufflinks, making it hard to miss their neat monograms.
‘Well, be careful,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Klaus.’
Dr Cooper waved me to a table by the front windows and, without asking what I wanted, went to the bar to get some drinks.
From the far corner, Tim Aziz’s girlfriend, Sophie, spotted me and waved. She was sitting with three hulking men and gave me as much of an enquiring look as her Botox would allow, glancing in Dr Cooper’s direction.
I shook my head, no. Jerked my chin towards her, silently asking who she was with.
My brothers, she mouthed, with an apologetic shrug.
While I waited for Dr Cooper, I studied them. Tried to imagine, based on their features, what Sophie would have looked like before all the work she’d had done to her face. It was truly hard to tell.
Dr Cooper returned, not with a glass, but with a bottle of rosé. ‘French,’ he said, pouring the wine. ‘I can’t say no to a good rosé from Provence. And I ordered some nibbles. I hope you don’t mind.’
He pushed one glass in front of me, leaning forward a bit more than he needed to. ‘So, tell me about yourself, Louise. All I know about you is that you have a healthy miniature dachshund called Klaus. Who’s trying to stay as far away from me as he can.’
I didn’t blame him, but tried to laugh it off. ‘Don’t take it personally. He’d be trying to get away from Dr Aspen and Dr Singh too.’
‘Well, hopefully neither will ask you for a drink.’ His smile was just this side of smarmy.
‘Oh my God, I hope not.’ Realising how aghast I sounded, I offered an apologetic, ‘Sorry, Dr Cooper.’
‘Nothing to be sorry about. But please, do call me Ben.’
I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with that. ‘Errr… right. Regardless, I still need to leave in less than an hour.’
‘That’s fine, let’s see how far we can get in that time.’ He topped up the three drops I’d sipped from my glass.
Fighting off a wave of ick, I forced a smile. ‘Not much to know, really.’ I took a sip of wine and blurted out the best thing I could think of to kill any buzz he might be entertaining. ‘Other than the fact that I found that dead body in the park.’
For a moment Dr Cooper froze, but his expression quickly turned to empathy. ‘I’d heard someone walking their dog found that poor man, but I hadn’t realised it was you. I’m so sorry, that must have been awful. Are you all right?’
‘It wasn’t the highlight of my week, to be honest. Finding a man that it turns out you know…’ My shudder was all too real. ‘But you knew him too, didn’t you?’
Dr Cooper shook his head. ‘’Fraid not, first time I heard his name was when I read the article about his death. Tragic.’
‘Really? But you’re one of the local vets – you didn’t treat his dog? Alfie?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m a locum. I do shifts at several surgeries. Which means that some people, who might be regulars at one in particular, I might know well, or not at all. I don’t recall Mr Creasy, or his dog. Sorry.’
He refilled my glass and placed his hand on mine. ‘But it must be awful to lose someone you know, and to find them that way.’ He shook his head and squeezed my fingers. ‘As I said, tragic. I am so sorry for your loss…’
I slid my hand out from under his, raising it as I saw a slim woman enter the pub. Her skin was tanned, and she had a blazer slung over one forearm. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, revealing bright green eyes and freckles. She gave me a tired smile and walked towards us. I pushed an empty chair out with my foot. ‘Pull up a pew, Annabel,’ I said, not looking at Dr Cooper. ‘You look knackered.’
‘The bloody Bells,’ she said, her cut-glass accent at odds with her greeting. ‘The idiot landlord is driving me round the bend.’
‘Annabel, this is Ben Cooper, one of the local vets. And Dr Coop— I mean Ben, this is Annabel, who – for her sins – works for one of the property developers trying to regenerate an area that isn’t always amenable.’
‘You can say that again,’ she said. She hooked her beige Ferragamo bag over the back of her chair and held out an immaculately manicured hand to Ben.
‘How do you know each other?’ he asked, his gaze moving from Annabel to me and back again.
‘We both drink here,’ I said.
‘And her dog’s cute,’ Annabel added. ‘Do you have a pet, Ben?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I love animals, work with them every day. But I know I probably wouldn’t be the best dog dad.’
Interesting.
Before I could find out more, Ben gestured to the bartender for a glass.
‘What’s happened now, Annabel?’ I asked her, settling into the conversation.
‘Same old. We’re trying to get them to sell off that damned pub to us.’
‘You want to run a pub?’ Ben asked, amused.
Annabel spluttered. ‘Hell no. It’s not bad enough that the Bells is an eyesore. It has more vermin than punters, even on a good day, but the council can’t be bothered to do anything about it, so we’re trying to.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned back. ‘We’d knock it down before it falls. Replace it with something better.’ Another glass arrived, and Ben poured her some wine. She thanked him with a sigh and an apologetic smile. ‘My father warned me that working for a property developer was hard work. He wasn’t joking.’
Ben smiled.
‘Have you even been in there?’ she asked.
He shook his head. It’d be hard to imagine the fastidious Dr Cooper, with his monogrammed cufflinks, drinking a pint at the Bells. Then again, it was hard to imagine Annabel, with her designer outfits, drinking there either.
‘You’re not missing anything.’ She cast a quick glance over his smart clothes. ‘Fleapit, on a good day. So where do you like to go?’
Ben leaned forward, waxing lyrical about a bar in the City that I’d never heard of. The two seemed intent on each other and I felt a glimmer of hope that I could make a clean escape. I sneaked a look down at my phone.
Meg (Tyrion’s Mum)
I glanced up from my phone, feeling less guilty about sneaking off a quick text while Annabel and Ben were keeping each other occupied. And to be fair, they would make a handsome couple…
Meg’s text was intriguing. Why did she think I’d recognise the group? Because I’d met the two other founders a few years ago? How would she even know that?
Or had she just assumed (correctly) that I’d done a LinkedIn search for any past and present employees of Fidelio?
In any case, her message was the excuse I was waiting for. I smiled at Ben and Annabel. ‘Really sorry, but that’s the friend I’m meeting. I need to shoot off now, but you two stay.’ I placed Klaus back on the floor and dusted off my jeans. ‘Have fun!’ I called over my shoulder, reasonably certain they’d both be fine without me. And if a bit of romance brewed between them, they could thank me later.
I hurried Klaus out of the door and picked up my pace, almost sprinting to the DLR. The train came quickly. I took a seat and settled Klaus in my lap, trying to figure out a plan as we approached the Wharf.
Most people hadn’t yet begun the evening migration homewards from the Wharf’s offices, and I had no problems finding a table at one of the bars on West India Quay. I took a table facing the small bridge connecting the Wharf to the Quay, where I could keep an eye out for familiar faces, ordered a lime and soda in a G & T glass and accepted the hostess’s offer of a dog bed for Klaus (even though it was more likely he’d remain on my lap).
‘Cute dog.’ A couple of young women hovered nearby. ‘Is he friendly? Can we pet him?’ They swooped in before I could answer.
‘He’d like that,’ I said, figuring that being part of a group made me look less like I was waiting for someone and was much more social than the book I would have brought in my pre-dog days.
The girls cooed over Klaus until the lure of a post-work drink was too great and they headed to a nearby table, signalling to the waiter.
I checked my phone, but there was no update from Meg, Irina, or anyone else in the Pack. Just one from my brother checking in on me.
I paid my bill after the second lime and soda, then looked over the bridge and smiled. A group of about twenty-five or thirty people were crossing, accompanied by seven dogs, ranging from a Chihuahua to a chilled-looking mastiff that was the size of a small horse. My money was on the Chihuahua bossing the mastiff.
‘Holy crap,’ I breathed, certain these people were from Fidelio. Klaus began to bark. His tail was wagging – a good sign – and he pawed at my leg, his cue to be let down. I allowed him to pull me towards the newcomers.
‘He’s barky, but friendly,’ I called ahead. ‘Can I introduce him?’
The first guy, ridiculously tall and solid, but with a full strawberry-blond beard and head of hair that made him look strangely similar to the Chihuahua in his arms, waved us over. He put the Chihuahua down and stood back while Klaus and the Fidelio dogs circled and sniffed each other, barking happily.
I laughed as a whippet rolled onto her back for Klaus. ‘I love your pack. Are you usually based around here?’
The whippet’s owner, a woman with green hair the exact colour of her dog’s lead and collar, shook her head. ‘Not really. First time we’ve got them all together at the same time, actually.’
‘Dog-friendly office?’ I guessed.
‘Since before it was fashionable. We usually have a couple in on any given day, but, like I said, this is the first time…’ her voice trailed off.
‘For a good occasion, I hope?’ I tried to sound casual.
The mastiff’s owner, a short bald man, shook his head. ‘Not really.’
‘Our boss died,’ Green Hair explained. ‘The dog-friendly office was his idea, so we thought, first day back in after it happened, we’d bring the dogs and go out for a drink. Toast him goin’ over the rainbow bridge.’ She lifted her free hand in an arc.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I looked down at Klaus, who was getting far too friendly with the prone whippet. ‘I really am sorry! Klaus!’
She laughed it off. ‘She likes it.’ Clearing her throat, she added, ‘Not sure where we’re going, but you’re a dog person. You’re welcome to join us.’
I smiled and leaned into it.
‘Always happy to have a drink with other dog people, as long as you don’t mind me gatecrashing your event.’ I paused and looked at her pack over my shoulder. ‘But just so I know, who are we drinking to?’
‘Philip R. Creasy,’ she said. ‘Our chief exec.’
‘The guy that was killed last Sunday,’ Chihuahua’s owner added.
‘Alfie’s dad,’ I said, taking a chance that they wouldn’t think I was some sort of ghoul.
Green Hair blinked. ‘You knew Alfie?’
Chihuahua Man took a half-step back. ‘You knew Phil?’
The others looked at me with suspicion that bordered on incredulity. ‘The news didn’t mention his dog…’
‘You’re not another reporter, are you?’
They began to regroup, pulling back on their dogs’ leads and closing ranks against an outsider.
But once I’d started, I couldn’t go back. ‘I’m local,’ I explained. ‘So was Phil. Our dogs played together at the same park. When Alfie wasn’t trying to hump Klaus, that is.’
Chihuahua Man pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. ‘Sounds like Alfie. That dog would hump a stone.’
‘He probably did; a stone wouldn’t tell him off.’ I laughed, then sobered again. ‘May he rest in peace. Phil too. Neither of them deserved the endings they had.’
Chihuahua Man nodded and picked up his little dog. As he held him close, I realised that man and dog both wore matching blue hand-knitted jumpers.
‘They didn’t.’ His smile was wry and a little sad. I tried not to breath out too hard. Maybe…
‘I don’t think anyone would have a problem if you join us.’
‘Okay,’ I said, following them back to the bar Klaus and I had just left. ‘Nice place.’
Green Hair nodded. ‘They’re dog-friendly, and the food and cocktails are pretty good. We haven’t booked anywhere, but they should be able to accommodate us.’
Chihuahua Man glanced over his shoulder at the middle-aged couple lagging behind. The woman was about fifty, slim, with silver-blonde hair cut into a neat bob. The man might have been a few years older, although there didn’t seem to be much grey in his thinning hair. He was average height, but overweight.
‘Don’t worry,’ Green Hair said. ‘They’ll follow wherever we go.’
The heavy man’s face was beginning to turn red, while the woman’s cool expression didn’t change.
‘Looks like trouble in the C-suite,’ Chihuahua Man muttered.
‘As long as they bring the credit cards, do you care?’ Mr Mastiff replied.
‘You’ll care if things go badly enough to hit the bottom line,’ Green Hair said.
‘Is that likely?’ I asked.
The three of them shook their heads, but I wasn’t sure I believed them.
The older man swaggered forward towards our group and held out his hand to me. ‘Jim Clark, CTO.’
‘Louise Mallory.’ I didn’t offer a title. This wasn’t a work event. ‘My condolences on your loss.’
He harrumphed, but the woman looked more closely at me. ‘Have we met?’
‘A long time ago,’ I said.
She nodded to herself. ‘You were part of a consultancy group. Business assurance and transformation, wasn’t it? You pitched to us a few years ago but the timing wasn’t great and we left everything open.’
‘You have an excellent memory, Ms Halder.’ I shook her hand. ‘Look, I know your company is going through a tough time and I’m not here to do a sales pitch. I hadn’t realised who your group was until just now.’
‘She knew Phil,’ Mr Mastiff explained. ‘From the dog park.’
‘And I liked him. But if you’d rather I go, that’s fine too.’
Tabitha Halder frowned. For a moment, I thought she’d turn me down. But then she nodded. ‘Any friend of Phil’s…’
Tamping down a feeling of victory, I followed them into the bar.
As Jim and Tabitha went to the bar to buy the first round of drinks, the group eased into several smaller circles. Green Hair grinned at Mr Mastiff. ‘Bet you he puts that on the company card.’
‘No chance. He’ll put it on Tabby’s.’ The two of them watched the senior managers at the bar. Jim patted his pockets and gave the woman an embarrassed shrug. We didn’t need to see her eye-roll.
‘Easy money.’ Green Hair held out her hand.
Mr Mastiff explained. ‘Jim’s all right, mostly. Generous when other people are footing the bill, but when it’s his turn, he’s got short arms and deep pockets.’ He demonstrated, looking like a short, bald T-Rex. His mastiff gave him a strange look.
‘I have clients like that,’ I said. ‘Some have financial issues, but most are just congenitally tight.’
Mr Mastiff laughed. ‘He had a bad divorce, but he was pretty bad even before that.’
‘Okay, here’s my prediction. Tabby’ll make an excuse and leave early. Jim’ll stay out, probably flirting with anything in a skirt, and won’t pay for a single drink all night, unless he’s pressed into it.’
‘Or if he’s trying to impress someone.’
I smiled, amazed at how much information they were willing to share with a complete stranger. ‘What’s the dynamic between them?’
‘They were the original founders,’ Green Hair said. ‘With Phil. Jim’s a techie at heart. Probably used to code in his pants until 4 a.m., then eat leftover pizza for breakfast.’
That was an image I didn’t need.
She continued, ‘He thinks he’s a people person, but he’s not. That’s all Tabby; she kept the staff happy, and Phil worked with the clients and investors.’
Interesting.
‘He’s not that bad, Kaz,’ Mr Mastiff said, turning to me. ‘It’s not unusual. You get someone with a good idea, they find a few people who can help make it real. At the beginning they all pitch in. Then their skills do ’em in. The CTO is usually the first to go. The guy that can code isn’t always good at getting the best out of people.’
‘No, Trudy.’ Green Hair pulled her whippet’s nose away from Mr Mastiff’s crotch before returning her attention to us. ‘Can’t say there wasn’t some friction. Phil was really good with people. He was the one bringing in new business and keeping the existing clients happy. Tabby sorts out the operations side of things. Jim, well. He likes swanning around with a grand title, and he like the toys. He likes to play.’
People were congregating around Jim and Tabby as they returned with trays of wine and beer. Mr Mastiff took a bottle of beer while Green Hair grabbed a bottle of Vermentino and a pair of glasses as Tabby passed. She poured one for me and one for herself.
‘So, Jim was the odd man out,’ I prompted.
‘And about to be the odder man out,’ Green Hair admitted once her bosses had moved far enough away. ‘Rumour had it that Phil ’n’ Tabs were looking to put him out to pasture and replace him with a guy who understood what it really meant to be a CTO.’
‘What does that mean?’ I knew what it meant to me, as a CEO. My firm was relatively non-hierarchical, but I always made a point of finding out what people on all levels were thinking.
‘Someone who knows how to lead,’ Chihuahua Man said.
‘Someone who’s not in it just for the title and the perks.’
That was fair, but I felt a strange need to defend Jim. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to take a step back from the company you helped build, even if it’s for the good of the organisation…’ I frowned, realising I wasn’t defending him, I was defending myself.
Focus, Louise!
‘What was the dynamic between Phil and Tabby?’
Mr Mastiff raised his empty beer bottle and handed Green Hair his dog’s lead. He made his apologies and headed round the bar to the gents’. At my feet, Klaus was pulling me towards a pretty collie, of the Lassie variety, not a border. Usually, he didn’t care much for big, fluffy dogs, but he made an exception for collies.
‘Pandora’s a flirt,’ Green Hair said, pointing at the collie. ‘Every male dog who sees her falls in love with her, and she knows it.’ Pandora gave Klaus a coy look over her shoulder, wiggling her fluffy tail.
I took the hint: Green Hair didn’t want to discuss the dynamic. ‘Klaus clearly isn’t immune.’ My little dachshund was doing his ‘I’m cute, you must love me’ dance for her. ‘She doesn’t look too immune to him either.’
‘Of course she isn’t,’ Green Hair laughed. She topped up her glass and mine. ‘Well, look. It was nice speaking with you, but I really should mingle.’ She saluted me with her now-full glass and, holding the leads of both whippet and mastiff, sashayed over towards a group of men, no less flirty than Pandora the collie.
Figuring I’d learned more than I’d expected and unwilling to overstay our welcome, I coaxed Klaus away from his new friends, stopped to thank Tabitha and Jim for their hospitality and headed towards the DLR.
As I rattled towards home on the train, I began to sort through all the new information I’d gathered.
It was starting to look like Jim Clark had a motive to kill Phil. But did he have the opportunity or the spine?
And what about Tabby? Or someone from the team who might have been on the receiving end of a decision that hadn’t gone the way they’d hoped?
One thing was for sure: they’d given me a lot to think about.