Paternoster Read online

  Inside, she switched on the electric heater, which filled the office with the smell of scorched dust, and made a pot of coffee. There were no messages waiting for her on the answering machine. Normally that would make her heart sink, but today she felt a spurt of relief: it gave her time to devote to finding out what happened to Paul. She recalled the dry scratch of his hand in hers as he lay dying. It was she he’d turned to; she’d see it through to the end.

  Taking out her notes from her interviews with Janice, Greg Barker and Chris Wilde, she constructed a timeline of Paul’s movements from Monday morning until he died early that morning. Information, source of information, assessment of the reliability of the source, alternative interpretations. Her old training made the process subconscious. With no clue what had killed him, every detail was relevant. There was a gap between seeing Chris Wilde and attending the planning meeting, and nothing to suggest where he went after the meeting ended. She bit the skin at the side of her thumb for a moment, then her tired brain recalled the photographs she’d taken in Paul’s flat.

  They were quickly downloaded to her laptop, and she zoomed in on the close-ups of every receipt piled on his bedside table, noting the time, date and place of each one. There was nothing later than five in the evening on Monday: petrol bought at a garage near Chris Wilde’s house. A full tank, by the looks of it, another hint that Paul wasn’t thinking of killing himself any time soon. There were no receipts for dinner or groceries to show what he did after the planning meeting, or suggest what time he got home.

  Eden flipped through the photos once more. There, a membership card for a singles club, Elegant Introductions, with a phone number in discreet italics on the back of the card. Eden picked up her phone and rang it.

  ‘Elegant Introductions,’ a female voice answered, the product of an exclusive boarding school.

  ‘Good afternoon, my name is Eden Grey. I wondered if you could tell me more about your singles club.’

  A well-bred tut. ‘We’re not a singles club; we’re an exclusive introduction agency.’

  ‘How does it work?’

  ‘We meet once a week, for dinner, cocktails, wine tasting. We organise theatre visits to Stratford and sailing weekends in the summer.’

  ‘Did you have a meeting on Monday night?’

  ‘No. We meet on Wednesdays.’

  ‘So there’s one tonight?’

  ‘Yes. If you’d like to come along to see if it’s for you, we charge forty pounds for guests. Then if you want to join, it’s fifteen hundred pounds for the year. Very reasonable.’

  Eden bit back a choke. The price tag was guaranteed to sift out the time wasters and the chronically short of cash. She asked, ‘Does that include the activities?’

  The woman gave a short laugh. ‘Good heavens, no. Activities are extra.’

  ‘Will you be there tonight?’

  ‘I’m there at every meeting, to greet everyone personally.’ The woman sounded affronted.

  Good, Eden thought, you’ll know exactly how many times Paul Nelson attended.

  She hung up, thinking. She could talk to the men there – that would be easy – she’d be fresh meat and they’d come flocking, but the women were different. She imagined Elegant Introductions was oversubscribed with women who wouldn’t take kindly to a newcomer, and biological clocks chime loudly. She needed a sop to throw to the women, and she knew just the man. She dialled again.

  ‘Hello, it’s me. How are your bones?’

  ‘What? I’m fine.’ Aidan sounded stressed.

  ‘I meant the skeletons you dug up, silly.’

  ‘Oh those, yes. Well, they’re still dead.’

  ‘Pleased to hear it.’ There were voices in the background. A call of, ‘What’re you having, Aidan?’

  ‘Are you still at work?’ she asked.

  ‘No, we’re all in the pub.’

  ‘An all nighter?’

  ‘Not necessarily, though don’t tell Trev that.’ She laughed: she’d joined the team for their Christmas party and had been impressed by their stamina. They could out-drink the drugs squad any day. A pause, then Aidan continued, ‘What’re you up to this weekend?’

  ‘A walk in the Malverns if it’s not raining,’ she said. ‘Fancy it? Actually, I was wondering if you’re free tonight? Doesn’t matter if you’re not.’ She crossed her fingers, willing him to say yes.

  ‘No, no that’s fine. What time?’ His voice was eager. Maybe Trev was doing his impressions again.

  ‘I’ll come to your place about eight. I need to brief you before we go out.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Singles club. Sorry, an exclusive introduction agency.’ She copied the woman’s snooty voice.

  ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ There was a catch in his voice.

  ‘I need your help with a case,’ Eden said. ‘It might be fun. You might get to trade me in for a newer model. You in?’

  ‘All right, see you at eight.’

  If only she had a photograph of Paul to show people. Sometimes people recognised a face but didn’t know the name. She scoured the photos she’d taken in Paul’s flat that morning: surely he had a picture of himself with his daughters somewhere? There it was: on the wall in the sitting room. Eden blew up the picture and cut out the image of Paul. It was grainy but you could tell it was him. It would have to do.

  As she locked her office, a thought niggled away in the back of her mind. Who was it who let themselves into Paul’s flat shortly after he’d died, and searched it? Someone who knew he wouldn’t be there? The thought sent cold needles across her scalp. There was no evidence – yet – of foul play in Paul’s death, but there were some coincidences she just didn’t like.

  Didn’t like at all.

  Aidan. Intelligent, difficult, independent, clever. Probably the cleverest man she’d ever met. A true polymath, it never ceased to amaze her the random facts he had at his fingertips. They’d met at a talk on dowsing, part of a series on ‘More Things in Heaven and Earth’ which had covered mediumship, astral projection, past lives and indigenous shamans. She’d gone to the weekly talks with her friend Judy from Zumba class, joined in the debate, and stayed for a drink and a gossip afterwards. She’d seen Aidan sitting towards the side of the room, his long legs crossed, scribbling in a notebook. Their eyes had met a couple of times.

  Judy nudged her. ‘He’s a bit of all right.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Who?’ Judy rolled her eyes. ‘That bloke over there, the phwoar one, the only decent man in the room, who keeps on looking at you, that’s who.’

  She looked again. Yes, he was attractive, but she was off men. It was just too complicated to get involved when your whole existence only began a year before. Thirty-four years of backstory was a lot to keep in your head.

  Judy had pulled out of the talk on dowsing at the last minute.

  ‘So sorry, Eden,’ she’d huffed down the phone. ‘Small Child started vomiting an hour ago and doesn’t show any inclination to stop.’

  ‘Poor thing, and poor you,’ Eden said. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Only if you can teach husbands not to panic at the sight of sick, human or animal. I’m praying the cat doesn’t join in out of sympathy.’ Judy paused for breath. ‘What is it with men and cat sick? Why is it only women who can clean up sick? Perhaps they should cover that mystery at one of the weekly seminars.’

  ‘I’ll suggest it to the organisers,’ Eden said. ‘You could be a guest speaker.’

  ‘Get the bowl!’ Judy suddenly shrieked. ‘Oh God! Sorry, Eden, he’s off again. Got to go. Bye!’

  So Eden went alone to the talk and found herself in the seat next to Aidan.

  ‘Where’s your friend today?’ he’d asked her.

  ‘Sick child woes, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘What about you? Are you here on your own?’

  ‘No, I’m talking to you.’ He nodded at her empty cup. ‘Want to go mad and have another hot chocolate?’

  ‘Why not?
Let’s live dangerously,’ she said. ‘No cream, but I’ll have an extra marshmallow, please.’

  ‘Coming up.’

  They introduced themselves when he came back from the bar with their drinks.

  ‘Eden, that’s unusual,’ he said. ‘Are your parents called Adam and Eve?’

  ‘Nothing so interesting,’ Eden replied. ‘I’m afraid they were just hippies who lumbered me with this name.’

  ‘You were pretty lucky to get away with Eden, then.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, it could have been much worse. Rainbow, or Dolphin.’

  ‘And your kids?’ he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

  She held his gaze. ‘I don’t have any children, or a husband, or a boyfriend right now.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, ‘I’d like to change that.’

  The meeting was called to order and the speaker was introduced. As they clapped a welcome, Aidan and Eden glanced at each other, smiled, and looked away. She barely heard a word of the talk.

  19:49 hours

  Aidan was wearing a black suit and a pale blue shirt and looked very eligible. The women at Elegant Introductions were in for a thrill. He kissed her as she came into his flat. He smelled of lemon shower gel and crisp aftershave.

  ‘You’re looking good,’ he said.

  She’d pinned her hair up into a chignon and made up her face carefully to create the impression of a single businesswoman. She wore a knee-length green dress with a fitted bodice and flared skirt, and black kitten heels, finishing it all off with a spritz of musky perfume.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Aidan asked.

  ‘It’s a singles club in Montpellier, exclusive clientele. Forty quid to get in, I’m afraid, but get a receipt and my business will reimburse you.’

  ‘And we’re going there, why?’

  Eden tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ‘A client of mine was a member. He died early this morning. The circumstances are suspicious, but I’ve nothing conclusive yet, so I’m doing some digging, see what turns up.’

  ‘Suspicious how?’

  ‘He told me that it was deliberate, that someone tried to kill him, but he didn’t tell me who.’

  Aidan whistled. ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘No. Yes, just before he died, he said “Paternoster”.’ She pulled a face. ‘Mean anything?’

  ‘Paternoster? It’s Latin, means “Our Father”, as in the Lord’s prayer. Was he a Catholic?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe he realised he was about to die and started to recite it.’

  ‘In Latin?’

  Aidan shrugged. ‘Some people prefer it in Latin. I do.’

  Eden studied him. ‘I didn’t know you were a Catholic.’

  ‘I’m not any more. I’m very, very lapsed.’ He took her hand and swung it gently. ‘What do you want me to do at this singles thing?’

  ‘Just hang around with the women, chat to them. Ask about Paul Nelson if you can – say you played cricket together a few years ago or something, and he told you about the club. Just see what they say.’

  ‘Proper detective work, eh?’ he grinned. ‘Do I get to roll over the bonnet of a car?’

  ‘Only if you really want to.’

  The doorbell sounded. They both turned to look at the door.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’ Eden asked.

  ‘I’ll get rid of them.’ Aidan went into the hall and came back followed by a petite woman, chuntering away to him.

  ‘Eden, this is Lisa. Lisa, Eden. Lisa’s been examining the bones that turned up at the Park School.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Eden, I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Wide-set blue eyes fixed unblinking on Eden.

  ‘Nice to meet you, too.’ Eden’s skin prickled and she was glad she was wearing her posh dress and had her best face on.

  ‘You off out? Both of you all dressed up. Gorgeous as ever!’ Lisa flicked a piece of imaginary fluff from Aidan’s jacket.

  ‘I thought you’d gone back to Oxford,’ he said.

  ‘Tomorrow morning. But if any more bones turn up, I’ll be back. Always nice to see you. It’s been ages.’

  ‘Did you pop round for anything in particular?’ Aidan said.

  Lisa tapped her head and pulled a droll face that didn’t fool Eden for an instant. ‘Silly me, forgot why I came. I brought your scarf back. You left it in my hotel room last night.’

  She dug in her coat pocket and magicked out his scarf.

  ‘Thanks,’ Aidan said, coolly. ‘You didn’t have to come round specially.’

  ‘No trouble. Anyway, better let you two get off,’ Lisa said. ‘Good to meet you, Eden. Bye, Aidan, will see you soon.’

  Aidan showed her out.

  ‘That was Lisa,’ he said, when he returned.

  ‘So I gathered.’

  ‘She’s …’ He stopped whatever he was about to say. ‘Shall we go?’

  Eden fastened her coat and followed him down the stairs. They walked to Montpellier where Eden pointed out the venue for Elegant Introductions.

  ‘You go in first, and I’ll come in later,’ she said.

  ‘No, you go first,’ Aidan said. ‘I don’t want you hanging around outside. It’s dark, and a woman was attacked in the town centre the other week.’

  She was touched by his concern, and tempted to remind him she could take care of herself. It was a kind thought, though, so she crossed the road, her heels clacking, and went into the club.

  Elegant Introductions was held in the first-floor function suite of an upmarket wine bar. A woman with blond hair styled to within an inch of its life greeted her at the door and introduced herself as Velma Purefoy. Her nails were so long they scraped Eden’s palm when they shook hands.

  ‘Lovely to meet you, Eden,’ Velma said. ‘There’s a cloakroom on the right for your coat, then go straight in. We’ll have a few games to mix everyone up in a little while.’

  Aidan wouldn’t like games, she thought, guiltily. He’d hate all that false jollity. Still, he’d agreed to help her with this assignment. She collected a ticket at the cloakroom and went into the bar.

  There were about fifty people there, surprisingly almost equal proportions of men and women. The women were possibly slightly younger than the men, averaging age forty to their fifty, and there was evidence of a booming trade in cosmetic surgery amongst Cheltenham women. The men wore suits in various shades of grey, with brightly coloured open-necked shirts. One chap – rotund, bald, camp, with a candy-striped shirt and outsize pink bow tie – patently belonged in a different sort of club altogether. Despite that, he had a coterie of women around him, giggling helplessly as he regaled them with stories.

  Eden ordered a sparkling mineral water with ice and a slice of lime so it looked like vodka. She could drink if she had to, but her days of partying hard and maintaining her cover were long gone. Simpler to keep a clear head and remember why she was here.

  As she leaned on the bar, she felt her scalp crawling. Turning slowly, as though taking in the room, she caught sight of Donna Small, Greg Barker’s PA. Donna glanced away but Eden was certain she’d been staring at her. Only that morning Donna had denied knowing Paul Nelson; now it seemed they were members of the same exclusive singles club.

  Time to find out more. As she left the bar, Aidan walked in. He nodded and smiled at her as if he was just being courteous. She smiled back, glazing her eyes slightly, and went to find Velma Purefoy.

  ‘Mrs Purefoy?’

  ‘Velma, please.’ She was licking her fingers and counting out twenty-pound notes. ‘Two hundred and forty. There.’ She glanced up. ‘Do you want to join?’

  ‘Not just yet. Tell me, does a Paul Nelson come here?’

  ‘I shouldn’t really talk about my clients, you know.’

  ‘But if I’m about to become a member?’ She watched Velma calculating the cost of discretion against a new member’s joining fee. Hard cash won.

  ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you Paul’s a
member.’

  ‘Does he come here regularly?’

  ‘Paul? Yes, pretty regularly. Sometimes he has work trips, you know. Not everyone can come every week.’

  ‘When was the last time he was here?’

  A shadow crossed Velma’s face and she closed up. ‘Now let me think. Paul, Paul. When did I last see him? No, sorry, I can’t remember. So many faces!’ she laughed brightly, but Eden wasn’t taken in. ‘Why are you asking, anyway?’ Velma demanded.

  ‘I’m a business associate,’ Eden said. ‘He mentioned Elegant Introductions, that’s why I came.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s all right then,’ said Velma. She glanced down at her cash box and started counting again.

  Back inside, Donna cradled a large glass of white wine at the bar. She was wearing a tight-fitting red dress with a low scooped neckline and red satin high heels with bows on the front. A jewelled evening bag hung from her shoulder, blue gemstones flashing. Eden sidled up to her.

  ‘Hello, again,’ she said.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Donna said.

  ‘Small world, isn’t it. Is this your first time?’

  ‘No, I’ve been a member for a while.’ Donna flushed.

  ‘Did you know Paul was a member here, too?’

  ‘Paul?’

  ‘Paul Nelson. The man I was asking you about earlier today. The man who died.’

  ‘I didn’t know him.’ Donna snatched up her glass. ‘Excuse me.’

  Eden caught Aidan’s eye and stared hard after Donna. He gave the merest nod to show he’d got the message, peeled himself away, and went to introduce himself.

  ‘You asking about Paul Nelson?’ the barman said, coming over to refill a dish of olives on the bar. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and tattoos embroidered his arms from wrist to bicep.

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘Course I do. He’s a regular here.’

  ‘And Donna Small, the woman I was just talking to?’

  The barman picked up a glass and started polishing it. ‘Her! She’s been coming here for years. Can’t be good for the self-esteem, can it?’