Take Two (A psychological thriller)

‘I’m the opposite. I love the mornings. I love to watch the sun coming up, if I can.’

‘Yeah, well, you don’t have long to wait,’ he said and laughed. ‘How are you enjoying filling in for Carolyn?’

‘It’s easier than I thought,’ she said. ‘The British accent catches me out sometimes.’

‘But you were born here, right?’

‘Sure. But I’ve lived most of my life in Australia and, trust me, you don’t want to have a British accent in Oz.’

‘The whinging Pom thing?’

Jenny laughed. ‘It’s more than a thing, Warwick, it’s a way of life.’

‘And where do you live?’

‘Brisbane. On the east coast. By the ocean. Two million people, just about. I love it.’

‘And what took you to Australia?’

‘Carolyn didn’t tell you about our childhood?’

Richards shook his head.

‘Yeah, well, there’s a reason neither of us hung around,’ she said. ‘It’s just she ran to London and I kept on running. Ended up in Brisbane and married a guy I thought was the one. Turns out that was a mistake, too.’

Anita returned from the bathroom. ‘I know I’m a pain, but my husband always give me an earful when I get home after the sun rises.’ She grinned. ‘I’d like to say it’s a vampire thing but, really, it’s because he doesn’t trust me.’

‘No problem,’ said Richards. He drained his cup. ‘We’d better let Jenny get ready for her close-ups.’ He stood up. ‘It’s been a great evening, we should do it again.’

‘Definitely’. She stood up and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘I had a great time.’

Richards wrinkled his nose. ‘You and Carolyn wear the same perfume,’ he said.

Jenny laughed. ‘I stole it from her dressing table,’ she said.

‘Coco Mademoiselle,’ said Richards.

‘You know your perfumes.’

Richards grinned and shook his head. ‘Just that one,’ he said. ‘Okay, we’ll be off.’ He noticed a red light flashing on the answer machine next to the fridge. ‘You know you’ve got a message.’

Jenny frowned. ‘Message?’

Richards pointed at the flashing light. ‘It’ll be for Carolyn, no one knows I’m here,’ she said.  Then she gasped. ‘Oh my God, maybe it’s her.’  She walked over to it and pressed the play button.

‘Hello, I’m trying to get hold of Jenny Castle,’ said a man’s voice. ‘This is Peter Sessions, I’m Carolyn’s agent.  I gather you’ve stepped in for her and I really think we should talk. Please call me back when you get the chance.’ The agent gave his phone number, twice, then ended the call.

‘He smells a commission,’ said Richards.

‘Do you think so?’ asked Jenny.

‘He’s circling like a vulture.’

‘That would make me, what, a dead antelope?’

Richards laughed. ‘He wants his fifteen percent, that’s all.  But you should give him a call. You do need somebody representing you. Show business is just that, a business.’

‘I will,’ promised Jenny. She took him and Anita down the hallway and showed them out. ‘Drive carefully,’ she said as she closed the door.

Richards and Anita walked over to the Porsche and climbed in. ‘She’s nice,’ said Anita as she started the engine.

‘Yeah, she is that.’

‘Not like you’d think a TV star would be. Really down to earth.’

‘She not really the star,’ said Richards. ‘She’s the star’s sister. But Carolyn was the same.’

‘She definitely likes you.’

‘So you keep saying.’

‘She’s at the window, boss,’ said Anita.

Richards looked across at the house. A light had gone on in one of the upstairs windows and Jenny was standing there, watching him.  As Anita started the engine, Richards waved.

Jenny waved back.

Richards blew her a kiss and she did the same back.

As the Porsche pulled away from the kerb, Richards saw a small red dot move across the window and he frowned. Was that a cigarette? Was Jenny smoking?  His frown deepened. Jenny didn’t smoke. Carolyn was the smoker.

‘You okay, boss?’ asked Anita.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Richards quietly. He forced himself to smile. ‘Of course I am,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Home, James, and don’t spare the horses.’

CHAPTER 85

The house was in the middle of a long terrace with white-painted brick walls, the window frames painted black and a black front door with a brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head.  A graffiti artist with delusions of grandeur had sprayed something across the wall under the main window but it had been painted over and was now barely visible. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ said Sergeant Marriott.

‘Her husband was murdered two days ago,’ said Inspector Biddulph. ‘I doubt she’s in any way okay.’

‘I meant I hope she’s not too emotional,’ said Marriott. ‘It upsets me when they cry.’