I shook my head.
‘Well, I’ve every faith. And of course you’ll be galloping sideways trying to crack open this smiling man case.’
‘How did you know he was smiling, sir?’
‘Well spotted,’ he said. ‘I knew you weren’t totally useless. Unfortunately, the pathologist disagrees.’
‘Karen Stromer.’
‘Aye, had her talking me off on the phone this morning. What a drugs risk and liability you are.’ He grinned. ‘Pushing all my buttons.’
‘She wants me taken off the case.’
‘She wants you taken off the planet, son.’
‘Can I ask what you told her, sir?’
‘I said I sympathized. Really, I did, but that you and Sutty are like one of those fancy dress donkey costumes that two people need to wear. If I get rid of you I’ll just have a big, fat arse running round the stage.’ It was almost a compliment. ‘So no fuck-ups this time. And if you could close it without swallowing the city’s entire speed supply, we’d all be grateful.’ He grinned again. ‘Leave some for the rest of us, eh?’
4
Parrs had me dropped back at the hospital, exactly where I’d been picked up. The sun still hadn’t moved in the sky and this, combined with my having nowhere pressing to be, made it seem as though I’d imagined the whole thing. It was one of the Superintendent’s great talents. He was a man who casually snuffed out dreams and made nightmares come true, often without seeming interested one way or the other. Our conversation this morning had felt like life or death. Now, a few minutes later, it was as though it had never happened.
I took out my phone and got to work.
‘Hello?’
‘Aneesa Khan? It’s Detective Constable Waits.’
‘Good morning, Detective Constable.’ I heard the shake in her voice. ‘Are you calling about Ali? Is he OK?’
‘I actually just spoke to Mr Nasser, he’s doing a lot better. I was hoping you could help me, though.’
‘I wanted to speak to you, too. I’m sorry I was so shaken up by it all last night. I’ve never been around violence like that before. I think it just gave me a shock.’ She said this like a prepared answer in a job interview but, I reminded myself, that formality was in everything else she said as well. Aneesa had very briefly let her guard down around me, and I thought that was probably what had disturbed her most.
‘Completely understandable,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Thank you.’ She sounded lighter already. ‘Now, how I can help?’
It was past time for me to inform her about the body we’d discovered on the fourth floor, but I wanted to try the owners first. Telling Aneesa meant I wouldn’t get to see their reactions to the news, so I edged around it.
‘You mentioned last night that your firm was handling the sale of the Palace?’
‘That’s correct. Although in the event of a sale it would be my boss, Anthony, leading things.’
‘Is this Mr Blick?’
‘Correct. How do you know that?’
‘Mr Nasser mentioned the name this morning,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t mind speaking to Blick if you can arrange it?’
‘I’m sure that by next week he’ll be all over you. Anthony’s in Thailand at the moment.’
‘Work-related?’
‘He decided to go and find himself at age fifty. Can you believe it?’
‘It’s never too late to start looking. What about the current owners, would it be possible to speak to them?’
She was silent for a moment.
‘Well …’ she said, finally.
The Palace Hotel was owned by the Coyle Trust, she explained, the principals of which were a Natasha Reeve and Frederick Coyle. When I suggested a meeting with them that day she told me that their schedules might not allow for it but said she’d call me back. I was almost in town when she did.
‘Natasha says she can receive you now, if that’s useful?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t be there to accompany you …’ I waited, thinking she was about to warn me that her client could be difficult. There was something unspoken but, for the moment, it stayed that way. Aneesa had already let her guard down once. That was as far as she was prepared to go.
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ I said. ‘Just tell me where and when.’
5
Natasha Reeve requested that we meet on King Street, off Deansgate, and I assumed that she lived locally. The wealthy often declined to receive police officers into their own homes. Above a certain income you were always more likely to conduct interviews in cafés or restaurants. Their concern, perhaps, was how their houses and possessions might be interpreted, or even resented, by the uniformly working-class police force. Having spent time with both sides I thought they were probably right to be careful.
I knew Natasha immediately.
She was a slim, tanned woman of perhaps forty-five. She looked like she had a lifetime of good living behind her. Sun, nutrition and education. She might have been my exact opposite, and her healthy glow made me feel faintly ashamed of myself. From some other, lesser race. She wore cream-coloured jeans with a matching blouse, and her clothes brought out the warmth of her rich, brown skin. A deep tan that even the city’s current heatwave couldn’t have provided. At first I thought she was looking into a shop window at baby clothes. As I drew closer I saw that she was actually checking her own reflection. I thought she seemed vaguely disappointed with it, until she turned and gave me the exact same look.
She knew me immediately, too, acknowledging my presence with a minimal nod.
‘Ms Reeve? My name’s Detective Constable—’
‘Waits,’ she said, twisting away from my outstretched hand. ‘Yes, shall we?’ She began to walk, expecting me to fall in step beside her, and I did. ‘I’m told we had a break-in at the Palace last night.’
‘I’m afraid so.’ I turned but she continued to stare straight ahead. ‘I was wondering if you could give me some background on the hotel itself?’
‘Is that necessary?’
‘At this stage it’s a little more complicated than a break-in.’
‘Intriguing,’ she said, flatly. ‘Very well. The Palace has been in my family for three decades and I’ve been responsible for it for one-third of that time. It’s always been a prosperous business but certain family commitments have necessitated its sale. Negotiations are currently inching forwards.’ She spoke briskly, like a woman who’d lost interest in her own life, and it took me a moment to realize that the history lesson was over. She’d condensed three decades into as many sentences.
‘I was told the hotel had two owners?’
‘The Coyle Trust, which owns the hotel, has two principals,’ she said.
‘You’re one, may I ask who the other is?’
‘Frederick Coyle, my husband.’
‘I hadn’t realized you were married.’
‘It seemed to slip Freddie’s mind towards the end as well. We’re currently divorcing, Detective Constable. Negotiations are inching forwards there, too.’
‘Is that the reason you’re selling the Palace?’
‘Freddie suggested we divide it into two separate entities, perhaps a health spa and a hotel, but I can’t bear to see that happen. My one condition of the Palace’s sale is that it remains intact.’
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
But Natasha Reeve didn’t want me for an ally. ‘I’m afraid your sentimental response to the problem isn’t shared by the prospective pool of buyers.’
‘You’re having some trouble with the sale?’
‘As I say …’ She looked as though she couldn’t bear to repeat herself.
‘Negotiations are inching forwards. How long were you and Mr Coyle married?’
‘Ten years,’ she twitched. ‘Why this fascination with my marriage? If you’re considering it, I can suggest better uses for your time.’
‘I’m just establishing the facts. Do you and Mr Coyle have any children?’
‘Not including the one he walked out on me for?’ I didn’t say anything and she came back to reality. ‘No, no children. Freddie never wanted the hassle. I regretted it, for a time, but after his conduct with the Palace I wonder …’