Maggie was on late call and said that she might even have to sleep over at the hospital as they had so many staff off sick. After having dinner with Penny and Hannah, Jack went into his office to focus on the Ridley situation, as all the activity on the Middleton case had prevented him from dedicating any time to it. He googled the Brighton and Preston Cemetery, which turned out to be an eerie, old-fashioned graveyard – it was even suggested that it would make a good place for a ghost hunt, which Jack thought was ironic, given that it felt as if that was exactly what he was doing as he searched for the real Sandra Raynor.
Jack couldn’t decide whether it was necessary for him to physically go and see the grave of the child. He was on early call at the station and knew he couldn’t get out of that. It was now almost 8.30 p.m., so driving to Brighton was unlikely to achieve anything.
Next on his list was interviewing both of the women who owned the dating agency. He thumbed through all the data that Sammy had given him and decided that he would try to contact Eva Shay first. He hesitated about calling her, and instead decided that he would pay her a visit. He popped his head round Hannah’s bedroom door to let Penny know that he would be out for an hour or so, then put Eva’s address into his mobile phone.
By the time Jack had arrived at Chelsea Wharf it was after 9.30 p.m. The apartments in the riverside complex looked very upmarket, and he wished he’d at least changed his shirt. He parked in a visitors’ space and walked to the reception area. It was manned by a uniformed doorman and the elegant interior matched his pristine grey tailored suit and peaked cap. He opened the tall glass-fronted door for Jack, who made his way down a thickly carpeted corridor to the elevators. A male receptionist sat behind a small desk, wearing a red waistcoat and bow tie. His hair had such a deep parting that it looked as if it had been cut into his scalp.
‘Good evening. I’m here to see Ms Eva Shay in Apartment 43A. She’s expecting me.’
The receptionist squinted at Jack and reached for the telephone. Jack hastily showed his ID and leant forwards.
‘No need. As I said, she is expecting me.’
‘It’s the fourth-floor apartment, at the end of the corridor, sir.’
Jack stepped into the elevator and checked his reflection in the polished chrome wall, using a comb to tidy himself up. There was nothing he could do about his six o’clock shadow but he straightened his tie and tightened up the collar on his leather jacket anyway. On the fourth floor the same thick carpet ran the length of the corridor. All of the apartment doors had cream frames with brass doorbells and numbers. At the end of the corridor there was a large floor-length window and a massive floral display on a plinth.
Jack rang the bell and waited. He heard the sound of a yapping dog, so he rang the bell again. The yapping got a bit louder.
The door opened and a frowning Eva Shay, holding a very small Chihuahua, peered out.
‘I am so sorry to disturb you, Ms Shay, but I’m investigating the Sandra Raynor case.’
‘It’s very late,’ she frowned. ‘You should have made an appointment.’
‘I know, I apologise, but I just need a few moments of your time. It is very important.’
Eva hesitated, then opened the door wider. She was wearing a pale-blue quilted robe with satin slippers, and her hair and makeup were immaculate. Still carrying the tiny dog, she ushered Jack along the corridor, lined with large gilt mirrors. She stood back to allow Jack to walk ahead of her into the living room, which made up for its lack of size by having long windows with views of the river.
The furnishings were rather dated, with cream-covered and fringed oval chairs, as well as a settee with stacks of satin cushions. There were flimsy curtains, gathered with a satin bow, and the coffee table had a selection of illustrated books along with a pile of Vogue magazines. On every space possible there were ornaments, and on a side table next to the settee was a large glass of wine, a bowl of crisps and an open laptop.
Eva gestured for Jack to sit down, but she remained standing as she shifted her dog from one arm to the other.
‘Do you have a card?’
‘I don’t. We’re all so used to seeing TV cops handing out cards, but actually we usually just show our ID. My name is Angus Seymour.’ It was the first name that came into Jack’s head as he took out his leather ID wallet, flipped it open quickly, then put it back into his pocket.
‘So, what do you want to ask me? I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been questioned, and I’ve told each officer everything I know. I have to say that this whole thing is very distressing, especially in my line of work as we go to such lengths to protect our clients.’
Jack knew that Eva was in her late fifties, but she definitely looked younger. Her makeup was expertly done; she wore false eyelashes with shadowed cheek bones, and a deep red lipstick that matched her long fingernails. Her curly, shoulder length reddish-brown hair gleamed so perfectly, Jack wondered if it was a wig. She put the dog down on the settee and sat down beside it, reaching for the glass of wine as Jack spoke.
‘I’ll try not to make you repeat everything over again,’ Jack said. ‘I am aware that you’re very protective of your business, and rightly so. To have a client found dead in such horrendous circumstances could be very damaging. Luckily there has been no publicity about the case so far.’
She frowned. ‘So far.’
‘Well, let’s hope that can continue. Right, first I need you to tell me how the woman known as Sandra Raynor first approached your agency.’
‘By the usual means. She had seen an advert and requested an interview, which we arranged.’
‘This was all done by phone?’
Shay sighed with impatience. ‘Yes, but we explained that, when she came to see us, we would need her CV and some personal data before we could agree to take her onto our books.’
‘So, tell me about when she came to see you.’
‘I have described this over and over . . .’
‘One more time please. Perhaps you could start with how she was dressed?’
‘Very smartly, wearing a fitted suit, a white bow-tied blouse, high-heeled Jimmy Choo shoes, and an elegant handbag. She had some nice pearl earrings, with a large signet ring on the pinkie finger of her left hand. She was very well made up and her blonde hair was nicely styled.’
‘So, she gave you her age, her previous employment, and bank statements?’
‘Yes, it all seemed legitimate, and both my partner and I felt she was suitable to be put on our books.’
‘Are you aware she was lying about her age?’
Shay frowned, and Jack wondered if she had been told about the post-mortem report. He sensed that she probably hadn’t as she turned away and picked up her wine glass.
‘The woman you knew as Sandra Raynor was estimated to be nearer sixty than the age she gave you.’
Shay sipped her wine, then carefully placed the glass down.
‘Well, I’d like to know who her plastic surgeon is.’ She gave a brittle laugh.
‘So, she lied to you and your partner,’ Jack continued. ‘But I’m sure that’s not the first time that has happened. On the other hand, you obviously need to be extremely careful about taking on someone with criminal intentions.’
Shay’s lips tightened. ‘Excuse me? I’m not sure what you’re insinuating.’
‘I am not “insinuating” anything, Ms Shay. But the fact is that Sandra Raynor was using a false name, and you arranged a meeting, a date, and a dinner for her with a person now accused of her murder.’
‘We went through the same strict procedures we go through with every one of our clients,’ she protested.
‘Did you do a criminal check on Sandra Raynor?’
‘No, but we do if we think it’s necessary. In this instance there was nothing to make us suspicious.’
Jack nodded. ‘How do you select a match? Show them photographs and do it a bit like an identity parade? We show someone six faces and ask them to pick out the criminal.’
Shay licked her lips and took another long sip of wine. Jack could see she was becoming anxious.
‘We have our clients’ photographs with their ages, previous work experience and hobbies. And if they are retired professionals then we also include a bit of a CV.’
‘So, Sandra came in to go through your client photographs in order to pick out the one she wanted?’
‘Yes, that is it exactly what happened. We then submitted her photograph to the person she had chosen, and when it was accepted, we arranged for them to meet in a location suitable to both parties.’
‘How long did this take?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘How long was it from when Sandra came to see you before you got her a date with the man she had chosen?’
‘It was unusually quick, just under a week.’
‘A week, and during this time did she return to your office? How did you contact her?’
‘She did come back into the office, but we also had her mobile number. I gave this to the officers, straightaway.’
Jack knew that the phone in question had turned out to be a burner that was no help in tracing who she really was.
‘How well did you know the gentleman she chose?’
She shrugged. ‘As much as we know any of our clients. We had already organised two dates for him that proved to be unsuitable.’
‘Did Sandra Raynor know the identities of the unsuitable clients?’
‘Oh no, we never disclose anything like that.’
‘OK. So, just let me go back to the beginning. In Sandra walks, looking very presentable and glamorous, with an impressive CV and a healthy bank balance. She pays the fee, chooses her date and they appear to get along well. They then go on a second date for drinks and dinner, and before you know it . . .’ Jack frowned. ‘Something about it doesn’t sit quite right with me.’
Shay pursed her lips. ‘We have a number of clients who have become more than just friends very quickly, and in many cases have got married. I don’t know what you are referring to.’
Jack smiled. ‘You, Ms Shay. You are a very intelligent woman, running a very successful business, and yet you are completely taken in by this woman. I think she may have made a mistake, and I think you caught on to it.’
Shay looked flustered. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve answered all your questions to the best of my recall and, repetitive as they’ve been, I’ve been very patient.’
‘Did you not question her about her previous employment as an accountant?’ Jack persisted.
Her false eyelashes fluttered, and she took a large gulp of her wine, draining the glass.
‘You were also an accountant, so surely it would have been natural to question her.’
‘I think I have spent enough time talking to you. I’d like you to leave, please.’
Jack didn’t move. ‘I know about your bank account in Monaco, Ms Shay, and I know that recently there were two large sums deposited there.’
She pursed her lips. ‘My ex-husband has property there. And yes, I also have an account, but . . .’
‘I just need some answers,’ Jack continued, ‘because it looks to me as though you might be creaming off money from your agency, and I don’t think Mrs Da Costa is aware of it. Of course, I’m not about to share that information unless I have to do so.’
Jack watched her get up and cross over to a silver tissue holder. She pulled out a tissue and returned to sit beside her dog.
‘Alright. She did come back to the office. It was early evening, and I was there alone. We take it in turns to stay late. I didn’t like the fact she just walked in without an appointment. We take a lot of precautions for our own safety, but she was very insistent and wanted to find out when the date she had requested would be organised. I told her that we had to wait for her selected man to get back to us to confirm if he wanted to go ahead. We don’t like to put pressure on anyone.’
‘Get to the point please, Ms Shay,’ Jack said.
Shay licked her lips. ‘She went to wait in the small reception area whilst I made the call to the client, as I obviously didn’t want her to overhear me. There was no response. I glanced at her CV again, as I was becoming slightly irritated by her manner. I knew the accounting firm she had listed – to be honest anyone in the accountancy world knows them. I was attached to a very small firm but hers was top of the range. I knew someone who worked there, who’d previously been a colleague of mine.’
Eva got up again, opened a small fridge and took out the bottle of wine to pour herself another full glass without offering one to Jack. She was very tense, almost sitting on her dog when she went back to the settee.
‘My contact, Debra, said she would run a check but that it would take a while. So, I went into the reception area and told Sandra that I was just waiting for him to call me back. I offered her a drink, and just out of curiosity I asked about what it was like working with such a high-powered company. She said it had been a big learning curve as they were very competitive and rather discriminating. My desk phone rang so I went back into the office and Debra told me that there was no present or past employee of that name working with the company.’
Jack leant his elbows on his knees, waiting whilst she drank more wine. Her hand was shaking.
‘I went back and faced her, telling her that I had discovered she was lying and that for us this was unacceptable, and . . .’
She blew her nose, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘I couldn’t admit this to Mrs Da Costa as she’s been a lifeline for me, but that woman wasn’t fazed by what I’d found out. She just dismissed it as over-eagerness to find a man who would respect her. She then offered me the money. Two cash payments: one when I organised the date for the first drink and the second when they went out for dinner.’
Jack leant back as Shay blew her nose again, becoming more tearful. He decided he had heard enough and stood to leave.
‘One last thing . . . it may mean something, I don’t know . . . she was very keen to have that date, but it was the way she organised the money transaction. If she wasn’t an accountant, then she certainly knew her way around banking, telling me how long I could keep it in my account to avoid tax. It made me think that perhaps at some time she had worked with an accountancy company.’
‘When previously questioned, did you disclose that you knew she had been lying?’
‘No, I did not. I assumed they would look into it themselves.’
When he returned to his car, Jack jotted down the name of the woman who had checked out Sandra Raynor. He wondered if Debra Smith might be able to give them an insight into her real identity. Jack found it strange that such a seemingly intelligent woman would have taken the risk of lying on the CV she submitted to the dating agency. He was also certain that it was no coincidence that she had chosen Ridley, and that there had to be some kind of link between them in the past.
That link was what Jack now needed to find.