Take Two

CHAPTER 40

Carolyn waited until Saturday morning before phoning Maxwell Dunbar. She didn’t have his number stored in her phone but she had kept his business card. She’d put it in a large glass bowl with several hundred other cards and, when she got home, she tipped them out onto her dining table and spread them out. Dunbar’s was a plain white card with black lettering — Maxwell Dunbar Investigations. There was a landline and a mobile number. She tapped out the mobile number and Dunbar answered after a few seconds. ‘Max? It’s Carolyn. Carolyn Castle.’

‘Miss Castle, long time no hear. I hope your stalker isn’t back.’ He had a slight lisp and a habit of breathing too hard, as if he was asthmatic.

‘No, you sorted that little problem for me just fine, Max. But I have something else I need doing.’

‘At your service as always, Miss Castle.’

‘Max, I know it’s short notice but could you come around now? I’m working long days all this week and it’s fairly urgent.’

‘Not a problem, Miss Castle. Are you still in Notting Hill Gate?’

‘I am, Max. I’ll be waiting for you.’

Carolyn cut the connection. She made a cup of coffee and she was just finishing it when her doorbell rang. She had the door on the chain and checked through the viewer to make sure it was Dunbar before opening the door. He shook her hand, wiped his feet on the doormat, and took off his raincoat. She hung it on a coat rack and took him through to the kitchen. He sat down and exhaled. He was a heavy-set man in his early sixties. Carolyn had last seen him three years earlier but he seemed to have aged a decade. His hair was thinner and greyer and there was a waxy sheen to his face that suggested he wasn’t in the best of health. His beer gut strained at his shirt buttons and there was a dribble of something that could have been mustard down his shirt front.

‘Would you like a coffee, Max? Or water?’

He winked at her. ‘You know, a whisky would go down a treat and keep out the cold,’ he said. He tapped the side of his nose, which was threaded with red veins. ‘Maybe a splash of water, just to take the edge off.’

Carolyn went through to the sitting room and retrieved a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. She took it back to the kitchen, poured a decent measure into a glass and added some tapwater. He took it from her, raised the glass in salute, and drank almost half of it in one swallow. There was a sour smell coming from him as if he hadn’t bathed in a couple of days.

‘So what’s your problem, Miss Castle?’ he asked.

‘I need you to check someone out for me. A man I’ve met. Warwick Richards is his name.’

‘Warwick Richards?’

Carolyn nodded. ‘He’s about six two, good shape, dark hair, he’s clearly got money. Drives a Porsche Cayenne. He says he runs a nightclub in Leicester Square and has a few properties.’

‘And what do you want me to do?’ asked Dunbar.

‘I need to know everything about him. Who he is. Where he lives. Friends. Enemies.’

‘Is he giving you a problem, Miss Castle?’

‘Not really. I’ve met him and I just need to know more about him. Can you do that?’

‘Of course. Now you say you’ve met him. Did he give you a card?’

‘Yes.’ She handed him the business card that Richards had given her. ‘Oh, and see if you can find out if he has any connection with an accountant called Nicholas Cohen. He’s a partner in a firm called Cohen and Kawczynski.’

‘No problem,’ said Dunbar.

‘How long do you think it’ll take, Max?’

‘A couple of days.’ He drained his glass and stood up. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I get anything.’

‘You’re a lifesaver, Max, thank you.’

‘Shall we say five hundred, on account?’

‘It’ll have to be a cheque, I’m afraid.’

‘A cheque’s fine, Miss Castle.’

Carolyn wrote him a cheque as he stood behind her, breathing heavily. She gave it to him, showed him out then went back to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine.