A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [174]
Dan feigned innocent surprise that her boss owned such places, and asked her what these people were like.
‘Well, they’re a bit rough,’ she said, clearly aware she mustn’t be too indiscreet. ‘Tough but dim men, women who’ve had a hard life.’
Through all this Dan was taking in everything in the two intercommunicating offices. Behind Janice’s desk another door was open just wide enough to see into a small cloakroom. There was only the one way in and out, and the windows which opened on to St Anne’s Court were overlooked on the other side by what looked like a disused storeroom.
‘The boss runs clubs and coffee bars?’ he exclaimed. ‘I was told it was a packaging company, they said I’d be doing invoices.’
‘I think you’ve got the wrong place then,’ she said, looking very disappointed. ‘This is Trueman’s Enterprises. What name did they give you?’
He made a show of consulting his paper again. ‘You’re gonna think I’m a really dumb country boy,’ he grinned. ‘It’s called Truscot’s, not Trueman’s. I’d better go and phone the agency and tell them they’ve given me the wrong address.’
‘You can use this phone,’ she said, indicating the one on her desk.
‘I can’t take advantage of a lady’s phone,’ he said. ‘But do you get out for lunch? I’d like to buy you one for being so kind.’
He could see the delight in her eyes, and guessed she didn’t often get chatted up.
‘That would be lovely,’ she said, blushing as red as her blouse. ‘I can go when Mr Trueman gets here. I usually have to take letters to the post and go to the bank for him.’
‘What does he do when you aren’t here?’ Dan asked.
She giggled girlishly. ‘Swears at people down the phone mostly I suspect. Messes up the pile of letters I’ve left for him to sign, and fills the place with cigar smoke.’
‘Doesn’t sound as if you like him much,’ Dan said.
She sighed. ‘He’s not an easy man to like. But he pays well and I run the place on my own most of the time. When I get back from lunch he usually goes out again, it’s rare that we’re both in here together for more than a couple of hours.’
Dan felt a surge of delight that he’d come to the one place where the man was vulnerable. He had expected that his office would be impregnable and full of people.
‘Shall I meet you in Joe Lyons in Leicester Square? I know where that is,’ Dan suggested.
‘Okay,’ she said with a shy smile. ‘I’ll have to go to the bank first so I won’t be there till about twenty past I expect.’
‘I’ll wait however long it takes,’ he said, looking right into her eyes.
‘What about the other job? And you haven’t told me your name.’ She giggled.
‘I’ll suggest I start tomorrow, or at least well after two,’ he said as he picked up his raincoat. ‘And I’m Ted Baxter. But I’d better go now, I’m holding up your work.’
Dan went straight to an ironmonger’s close by in Berwick Street and bought a length of washing line. In a secluded doorway he fastened it round his waist under his jacket. Then he went straight back into the coffee bar opposite Trueman’s office again, and got a seat by the window so he could watch who came in and went out.
By eleven-thirty Dan had drunk three cups of coffee, eaten a bacon sandwich and pretended to read an entire newspaper. He’d seen a brassy-looking woman of about forty-five in a very tight skirt and high heels go up the stairs, and then come back down only minutes later. He thought she might be a manageress of one of Trueman’s clubs. A bit later a teenage boy with a scar down his cheek went in and he wasn’t long either. Then about twelve o’clock two men slightly older than Dan arrived. One had crinkly red hair, the other light brown, and both had the look of professional hard men with their expensive suits and broad shoulders. The red-haired one clearly fancied himself; Dan had noticed him admiring his reflection in the shop window, and he had an exaggerated swagger.
Dan was holding