The Dead Ex(74)

When I get into work on the Monday morning, I’m almost beside myself. How frustrating that my search of David’s place had proved fruitless. Maybe I’d missed something. There has got to be a clue somewhere. Some little detail. I can’t get this far and leave the company empty-handed.

There’s only one thing for it. I’ll have to go into the lion’s den. David’s personal office.

But when? It’s locked over the weekend. (David is the only one who goes in then.) It’s true that he’s often out during the week for external meetings or business trips. But I can’t rely on his absences, because Posh Perdita is always flitting in and out with that I’m the boss’s PA and I can do what I want look about her.

So I have to find a time when no one is around. It’s not unknown for David’s staff to work until 8 or 9 p.m. Even after that, there’s often some nocturnal straggler keen to gain points for dedication, especially as appraisals are coming up.

My best bet, I decide, is to join that group tonight and try to be the last one there so I can get on his computer. We all have to change our passwords every last Friday of the month, and I know for a fact that Posh Perdita writes down David’s on a pad on her desk for when she needs to send an email on his behalf. I’ve seen her.

So today I have come prepared, including packing a small parcel in my bag as I leave my flat. My plan might have been all right if the geek in the IT department – who’d asked me to the New Year party – wasn’t still working in the next room, having stayed on too. Finally he puts his head round my door. ‘I’m finished now. Fancy something to eat?’

I pretend to look disappointed. ‘Really sorry, Nigel. I’d have loved to but I’ve got to go through this lot.’ I indicate the camera on my desk.

‘Looks fascinating. I’d like to know more about your work.’

I shrug. ‘I’m just taking pictures that might, if they’re good enough, go into a new brochure for David, that’s all.’

Well, that’s what he’d promised, I recall silently. Whether he’ll deliver or not is another story.

‘David?’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘Mr Goudman,’ I say quickly, correcting myself. Even Posh Perdita addresses him by his surname in front of others.

‘OK.’ He still appears hesitant. ‘Don’t work too late. You know what they say about all work and no play.’

Great! He’s gone. Quickly, I check the other offices. No one there. I’ll need to be fast, or Security will be here to close up for the night. Perdita’s office is empty too. The notepad is on her desk. There is a series of symbols on it. At least, that’s what they might look like to anyone else. T-line shorthand! It was one of the other subjects I did at sixth-form college, thinking I might go into journalism. I wasn’t great at it, but I could just about make out some of the letters.

My heart falls. It’s a shopping list.

Buy cheese. Milk. M something. That was it! Mascara.

That won’t get me anywhere. Then I flick back to the previous page.

There it is!

I’ve half-expected David’s office to be locked, but it’s not. Everything is very neat. Just like his apartment. Swiftly I key in the password. Nicole84. Very touching. I scan the Inbox. Everything relates to various property deals.

Shit. I freeze at the sound of footsteps. Terrified I duck down – as if that will stop me from being noticed – but they go past. I didn’t think anyone was still here. I can’t risk this any more.

Then my eye falls on something else. Trash files. And there it is. Fingers shaking, I scribble down the words.

Footsteps sound again. Quick. Switch off the computer. Shutting down …

The footsteps come closer. They’re at the door.

‘Helen? What are you doing here?’

It’s David. His eyes are hard and narrow.

I make an attempt at a half-laugh. ‘You’ve caught me. I admit it.’

His voice is steel. ‘What?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry. It was meant to be a surprise.’

‘What was?’

‘This.’

I indicate one of his desk drawers, which is still open from my foraging. Then I hold up the little package which I’d just taken out of my bag. Thank goodness I’d thought of that.

‘I wanted to plant a little birthday present for you as a surprise for tomorrow. It’s nothing very special, I’m afraid. Just …’

‘How the hell did you know it was my birthday?’

I can hardly tell him I had to go into considerable research on the internet to find out. It would look too stalkerish.

‘I heard one of the girls say something.’

‘But no one knows when my birthday is.’

He’s drawing closer. Suspicion written all over his face. Suddenly I am scared, thinking of the stories he’d told me about his spell in the forces. He could break my neck. Make it look as though it was an accident. No one is here. Anything could happen to me, and no one would know.

‘Someone must have told them,’ I suggest, trying not to shake. ‘Perdita, perhaps? She’s good at research, isn’t she? Maybe she found out somehow.’

I can see his face struggling to work out if I’m telling the truth.

‘Would you like it?’ I ask, holding the package out towards him.