Chapter Twenty-Five
Day Six
Saturday, 3 November 2012
08:00 hours
Stuart ran up the few stone steps, rang one of the four bells, and stood back.
A disembodied voice came over the intercom. ‘Hi, mate, be right there.’
He looked about him. At eight o’clock on a Saturday morning the road was already coming to life. Deliveries were being made at the pub down the road on the corner. Nice place. Couple of nice pubs round here. Not a traditional sort of pub but friendly all the same. The type who welcomed dogs which isn’t as common as one might think.
What pub wouldn’t welcome a dog, Stuart mused. Pubs and dogs go together for Christ’s sake. Thank goodness there were still some places run by individuals who had the intelligence and compassion to appreciate that.
Stuart shoved his hands into the pockets of his cashmere overcoat and hopped from one foot to the other, his thoughts drifting back to the night before.
He’d driven straight home to find Emma already packing. He’d put a call through to her on the way. Emma had been understanding and cool about the whole thing.
She appreciated how these things worked.
She’d taken with her mostly clothes, toiletries, a few books, both recreational and law, and her PC. She said everything else she needed was at her office. Stuart told her she’d be under personal escort every step of the way when she did go into work and anywhere else for that matter.
Her firm, going since 1920, was a well established and highly respected body of lawyers situated in the heart of the City.
As she bent over her open suitcase, slipping inside it a white silk blouse, Emma quipped it was like going on holiday.
Almost, Stuart had quipped back. Except this time she would be flying solo.
She cried a little. Stuart comforted her. He pushed her long, dark brown hair from her face and kissed her cheekbones, her mouth. She’d looked at him with tears in her brown almond-shaped eyes, shook her head and said she’d be all right. They simply held each other for what seemed like hours but was in fact only minutes.
And then they left.
As Stuart drove away, Emma turned one last time to look at the pretty town house she’d shared for the past eight years with the handsome man sitting next to her. He looked in control. Confident. Inside it was eating him up. She knew that. She didn’t say anything. Neither did he. He didn’t have to.
He’d driven a few miles into the City to a five-star hotel where he knew she’d be safe and well taken care of. She’d sign in under a nom de plume and from that moment on would have no contact with either Stuart or Shannon. Except through a third party. It would be too risky any other way. Emma was not about to risk her life or even that of Shannon’s and Stuart’s just for the sake of a few moments personal contact.
The hotel was close to her office. She assured Stuart she’d be fine. They held each other one last time and he was gone.
‘Ready?’ The voice from behind him gave Stuart a start. He whipped round to see Love smiling at him as he pulled the glossy blue door shut and jogged down the steps in front.
The polished brass letter box flap snapped open and shut. It made a sharp ringing sound behind him.
‘All right?’ Love said as he reached the front path where Stuart was standing, waiting.
‘All right,’ Stuart said, and smiled. He looked tired but in control. ‘So far so good.’
Love nodded, strolled along the path to the wrought iron gate and swung it open. Stuart fell in step behind him. ‘It won’t be for long, mate.’
Stuart pointed his keys at the Jag, pushed once and the car beeped. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and meet Mrs Pfeiffer.’
Love opened the door and eased himself into the beige leather upholstery. The car was still warm. He thought of his Volvo and wondered if Motorpool had fixed the heating. ‘Did you manage to get any background on her?’
Stuart indicated with his head to the back seat. He strapped on his seat belt. ‘It’s back there,’ he said, ‘what there is,’ he added.
‘Why?’ Love said as he reached behind him to retrieve a thin file. He flipped it open then put it on his lap buckled his seat belt and opened the file for the second time. ‘Not much to download?’
‘Couldn’t get too much apart from her age, she’s fifty-five by the way, tireless charity worker, member of the Women’s Institute, but we know that already.’
‘The local WI, right?’
‘Yes, local in the NW area,’ Stuart said. He drove on past the Lion & Unicorn swung the car round in Hammond Street and back down to the end of Gaisford Street where it led into Kentish Town Road. ‘There appears to be three close to her home but Burnt Oak is the one she attends,’ he added. He waited as a sudden stream of traffic passed by on both sides of the road.
‘Clear my way,’ Love said. Stuart glanced in Love’s direction then once more on his side touched the accelerator and with a guttural purr zoomed across the road. Love skimmed through the file. ‘Born in north London, married Robert Pfeiffer twenty-five years ago, one son, Heinrich.’
‘All sounds innocuous, doesn’t it?’
The lights turned green as their car approached, Stuart bore right, touched the accelerator and purred into Fortress Road.
Love lowered the file he held in his hands and stared straight ahead. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘It does at that.’
Twenty-two minutes later they were turning left from Pursley Road into Featherstone Road.
Stuart cruised along as they searched for the house.
Love checked the number in the file and glanced out of his side window. ‘There it is, on the left,’ he said a moment later.
Stuart pumped the brake, pulled up, stopped, switched the paddle into “P” pulled on the handbrake and turned off the car. The only sound to be heard was the car settling down.
The two men climbed from the vehicle and stood looking at the property.
Built in the 1960s the house appeared to be a neat semi-detached property with a small mature garden to the front. Love glanced about him. It was a tidy, suburban area. The surrounding properties were a mixture of 1930s deco-style semi-detached houses so prevalent of the times, sitting side by side with tidy little 1950s bungalows.
It was quiet.
Only the distant hum of traffic and birdsong peppered the air. They walked down the brick driveway passing a silver-coloured A-Class Mercedes on the way and came to the front door.
Love reached out and rang the bell.
The door swung open almost immediately. ‘Well!’ she said. ‘Had I known I was being visited by two good-looking young men I’d have made sure I was properly dressed.’
Her hair was strawberry-blonde. It was thick and wavy and sat about her shoulders like a fluffy, unkempt cloud. Her eyes, large, intelligent and smiling were blue-green in colour framed by thick, jet black eyelashes.
Although Love would later insist her eyes had been blue whilst Stuart would be equally determined they were green.
And her cheekbones were even more pronounced than her husband’s. At least they now knew from where Heinrich got his good looks.
A line creased Love’s forehead as he said, ‘Mrs Pfeiffer?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and smiled. ‘How can I help you?’
She pulled the belt of her dressing gown into a knot. The satin and silk coffee-coloured robe highlighted her small waist, long legs and large breasts. Real too, reckoned Love, as his glance flickered over her body. Pleasing to the eye and the antithesis of what he and Stuart were expecting.
Starchy Knickers! Really?
He pulled out his wallet flipped it open, and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am, I’m Detective Dick Love and this is Detective Stuart Le Fanu.’
‘Good morning,’ Stuart said, and smiled. He held his ID for her to see before replacing it inside his pocket. He had trouble tearing his gaze away. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions do you m
ind if we…’
‘But of course,’ she said, and stood back to allow the two men to step inside closing the door firmly behind them. ‘Do come in out of the cold.’ She smiled at them both before walking on ahead.
The hall was medium in length and fairly narrow. She turned right at the end and entered into a spacious lounge. It had one large window looking out on to the front garden, the road beyond, and where Stuart’s car was parked. At the other end was a large open-plan dining room with French doors that opened directly on to a mature garden about one hundred feet in length. It was an attractive space with evergreen trees, bushes and a green lawn.
To the left of the dining room was the kitchen. It had recently been modernised and extended resulting in a large, stylish kitchen area full of wooden cupboards, granite workbenches, and a Butler’s sink.
Love and Stuart looked round appreciatively. The furnishings weren’t exactly of antique standard but there were some nice pieces. Quality. G Plan and Cargo resulting in retro mixed in with newer stuff. The colour scheme was burnt orange on the walls offset with tasteful pale green and turquoise furnishings. It worked.
‘Charming house you have here, Mrs Pfeiffer,’ Stuart said. ‘Have you lived here long?’
‘Why, thank you and yes, about fifteen years,’ she said. ‘Henry was just a boy of six.’
‘Henry?’
Mrs Pfeiffer looked directly at Love. ‘I mean Heinrich,’ she said. ‘He insists on being called by the German version although I must admit I prefer Henry. But what’s a mother to do!’ She laughed and pushed back her hair with nails the colour of coral.
‘Mrs Pfeiffer…’
‘Oh, please, call me Jill,’ she said, as she sat down, beckoning to the two men to do the same.
‘Thank you,’ Love said as he lowered himself on to a pale green leather couch. Stuart shrugged off his coat laid it on the back and sat down on the other end.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, can I get you both a coffee?’ She jumped up. ‘I have some brewing.’
Her dressing gown momentarily flew open showing off a tanned shapely leg. On her feet she wore a pair of sheepskin Ugg boots. The woman was full of contradictions. She rushed into the kitchen not bothering to wait for an answer.
‘Make yourselves at home I’ll just be a moment,’ she called out from the other room.
The two men rose from their seats and were sitting back down when Love turned his head to look at Stuart who was gazing ahead of him like he’d been hit in the head.
‘Mate, are you speechless?’
Stuart slowly turned his head to look at Love, and grinned. ‘She’s amazing,’ he said.
‘In another time and another place,’ Love said smiling, before adding, ‘Here let me help.’ He jumped up as Jill entered the room carrying a tray of mugs, milk, coffee, sugar and spoons.
Stuart half rose from his seat before settling down again. Chivalry was not all together dead and buried despite the evidence of many. And despite what women say. Many a woman prefers a man with good manners as opposed to having none at all.
‘Thank you,’ Jill said as she handed Love the tray.
He placed it down on the coffee table that sat in between the two chairs and the couch.
Jill smiled brightly as she perched daintily on the edge of one of the chairs. She picked up the coffee pot held it in mid-air, and said, ‘Black or white?’
‘I’ll take mine white with two sugars,’ Love said.
‘I’ll have mine black with no sugar,’ Stuart said.
Jill started to pour the coffee into one mug then stopped. ‘I’ve forgotten the stevia,’ she said. ‘Would you prefer stevia instead, Mr Le Fanu?’
Stuart smiled as he sat back and crossed his legs. ‘That would be great, thank you very much.’
‘Give me a sec,’ she said, and jumped up again. ‘Please don’t get up,’ she shouted back over her shoulder almost immediately. The gown went flying again, brown shapely leg, Ugg boot. A moment later, she was back.
‘Here we go,’ she said, smiling at Stuart.
She placed a small plastic bottle on the tray inside of which was a colourless liquid. She picked up the coffee pot and poured coffee into three mugs. Retro-style with a delicate green leaves print. She added milk and two sugars in one and passed it to Love. He thanked her and she turned her attention to Stuart.
‘Just one small squirt?’ she said, referring to the stevia.
Stuart laughed. ‘Just one tiny squirt and that’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Thank you very much. Nice coffee set by the way.’
‘Thank you, it’s from Heal’s,’ she said as she poured herself a cup. Squirted in a drop of stevia stirred it briefly and sat back in the chair hugging her mug. ‘It’s from their MissPrint Woodland pattern.’
It was like sitting with a couple of chums over morning coffee. Love had to remind himself why they were there. ‘Jill,’ he said putting his mug down on a coaster on the table. ‘We’re trying to put a profile together of all the persons Monica Dixon, who was recently abducted and killed and is our latest victim, may have come into contact with.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’
Stuart emptied half of his mug and placed it down on the tray. ‘That was delicious, Jill, thank you,’ he said. ‘Much needed on an early and cold morning such as this.’
Jill smiled and took a delicate sip. She shook her head, pursed her full lips together and blew in the mug. It made tiny ripples across the surface. ‘Ooh, that’s better,’ she said taking another sip. ‘Would you like a top-up, Mr Le Fanu?’
‘No, I’m fine, thank you,’ he glanced at Love. ‘Jill, I understand your son helps at the shop?’
‘Yes, he’s undecided as to what he wants to do but for now it suits him to work there.’
‘It appears your husband or son served Monica in their shop,’ said Love.
‘Have you asked them?’
‘We have,’ Love said. ‘But they don’t recall having met her.’ He fished inside his pocket and pulled out two photos. He half stood and handed them to Jill. ‘This is a recent photo of Monica and one of her son, Timmy.’
She nodded. ‘Nice-looking people but I wouldn’t have met them I don’t serve in the shop.’
‘Yes, we realise that, but what we’re hoping is that perhaps your husband or son spoke of them.’
‘You mean mentioned them in passing?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Love said.
Jill sat back and crossed her legs. She took a sip of her hot drink and stared hard over the top of Stuart’s head. ‘Sometimes they talk about their customers, you know, if something amusing or unusual happened, but I honestly don’t remember them talking about either of these two.’
‘It would have been recent sometime in the past two weeks,’ Stuart said.
She shook her head and her curls bobbed about and fell gracefully against her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry I honestly don’t recall a thing,’ she said. ‘Mind you, Heinrich isn’t always the most communicative and Robert… are you sure I can’t get you another cup, Mr Le Fanu?’
Stuart glanced at Love. He got the message loud and clear. ‘Actually, I will have another, thanks, Jill.’
‘Same as before?’ she said, as she began to pour.
‘Same as before.’
She squirted a drop of stevia, stirred it, and handed the drink to Stuart with a smile. ‘There we are.’
She looked over at Love. ‘And you Mr Love, are you ready for another cup?’ She held the coffee pot in her hand as she peered over at Love’s mug. Seeing it was nearly empty she half rose from her seat and leant forward to top-up his mug, giving an unashamed view of her ample breasts underneath her coffee-coloured silky gown. ‘Help yourself to sugar and milk.’
‘Thank you,’ Love said. He determined the woman wasn’t consciously flirting. He reckoned she didn’t even realise how sensual she was. She was completely natural. A genuine person. And he liked her. ‘I take it your son doesn’t
discuss his day with you much?’
She gave a small laugh. ‘We don’t seem to be able to communicate much at all these days,’ she said. ‘But I have my charity work.’
‘Everyone needs to feel wanted,’ Stuart said.
‘Yes, yes they do.’
‘Does Heinrich go out much?’ Love said.
‘A fair amount I suppose with his friends from school and college.’
‘What did he study?’
‘Computing technology and IT,’ she said. ‘Something I know little about I’m afraid.’ She laughed. It was an attractive sound, deep and husky. ‘I daresay you’d know a lot more about that sort of thing, Mr Love.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ Stuart said, glanced at Love and chuckled.
Love smiled. ‘That’s a neat motorbike you and your husband gave Heinrich for his birthday.’
‘Well, he’d wanted one for ages and finally I relented after having persuaded my husband.’
‘Really? I got the impression it was more your husband’s idea.’ Love placed his mug down on the coaster stood up and removed his Donegal.
‘Goodness me, no! He’s extremely strict but it always seems to fall to me to actually carry out the discipline.’ She sipped at her drink. ‘Heinrich isn’t spoilt, I don’t believe in spoiling a child, but he certainly didn’t go without much when he was young.’
‘I know it’s a hard line to get right,’ Stuart said.
Jill nodded. ‘When he was about thirteen or fourteen he wanted a keyboard. It wasn’t even his birthday or Christmas he just wanted me to buy him these keyboards and I refused. Naturally.’
‘Naturally,’ Love said. ‘And how did he take it?’
‘Badly!’ She shook her head at the memory of it. ‘It chills me still to think of it.’
‘Children are their own people we aren’t their puppeteers,’ Stuart said.
‘We weren’t planning on having any children but then I accidentally fell pregnant with Heinrich and so I took it like I take everything in life methodically and philosophically and just got on with it.’ She smiled. ‘I determined to love the child to the best of my ability, to look after him, feed him, keep him warm, guide him, do my best,’ she added quietly.
‘Can’t ask anymore than that,’ said Stuart.
‘But somewhere along the line I realised here was a person I didn’t even know.’ She looked at Love and Stuart. Her large blue-green eyes were bright, sparkling from unshed tears. ‘He’s a stranger to me.’ She glanced down and placed her mug down on the coaster. ‘And that goes for…’ She looked up and spoke quietly but firmly. ‘I’m looking into getting a separation.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Love said.
She snapped her attention to Love, and laughed. ‘Don’t be sorry, Mr Love, be happy. I still have a lot of life and living left in me and I’m going to make sure I get on with it.’
‘Under your own steam or with someone who appreciates you,’ Stuart said gently.
Jill turned to stare at Stuart. ‘That’s it exactly, Mr Le Fanu, you’ve got it in one.’
Love and Stuart looked at the lady sitting in front of them. A sensuous woman who by nature was a happy woman, full of contradictions, but a decent sort, and slowly, day by day, she was dying inside.
‘Jill, if there’s anything you can think of anything at all please don’t hesitate to contact me,’ Stuart said. He reached into his pocket snapped open a silver card case and proffered his business cards. ‘It has my mobile number on it,’ he said. ‘You can ring day or night.’
She took a card and held it tightly in her hand. She looked at him and smiled. ‘I won’t forget, Mr Le Fanu.’
Love watched the exchange. He stood up, reached behind into his back pocket, retrieved his wallet and leant over to pass his own card. ‘Same goes for me, Jill.’
Jill took the card, held them both tightly in her hand, and said, ‘I know what you’re doing and I appreciate it.’
‘Doing?’ Love said. ‘We’re just doing our job, Jill.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ she said. She stood up, walked down the hallway and opened the front door. A rush of cold air whooshed into the warm house. ‘Drive carefully there might be ice on the roads.’
Love and Stuart edged past her. Once outside they turned round to face the woman. Stuart had already put his coat on inside the house. Love was still shrugging into his Donegal. He had deliberated that morning before Stuart arrived to collect him, as to whether he should wear his Reefer jacket but decided against it at the last minute. He reckoned it still wasn’t quite cold enough. He determined there had to be snow on the ground after all and also determined he’d be adamant about that.
Stuart flicked his fringe back, stamped his feet, and smiled. ‘Don’t get cold, Jill.’
‘I won’t.’
‘When you think there’s nothing to be bothered about there usually is,’ he said. He nodded to the cards she still held tightly in her grasp. ‘Keep them close to hand.’
‘I will,’ she said, and laughed. ‘I sound like a robot.’
‘That’s something you’re certainly not,’ Love said. ‘Goodbye, Jill, take care.’
‘See you.’ She smiled her charming smile and closed the door. The two men turned round, strolled down the drive, Stuart held out his key, pressed it, the car beeped, the doors clunked politely, they got in and drove away.