Take Two (A psychological thriller)

‘I went out with a cop once.’ Terry grinned. ‘Well more than once, as it happens. We had a thing for a couple of months.’

‘No doubt it was the handcuffs you found attractive. Or was it his truncheon?’

‘Darling, they don’t have truncheons any more. They have batons. But my point is, it’s not like Morse or Frost or Silent Witness. There’s no guarantee they’ll find the killer. But you can give them a description and that’ll speed things up if nothing else.’

‘A description of what? A good-looking man in his forties with dark hair?’

‘You didn’t say he was good-looking.’

‘Well he was. But that doesn’t mean I can give them a detailed description.  My memory doesn’t work like that. I can memorise dialogue until the cows come home but I’m terrible with faces.’

‘At least you could give them something to go on. And you saw two cars, right? The Merc and the Bentley.’

‘They could have been Cohen’s cars.’

‘Maybe. But they weren’t there on Saturday when we went to the house. Which means somebody drove them away. And assuming Nicholas Cohen was taken out wrapped in a rug, it wasn’t him.’

Carolyn shuddered. ‘I can’t go to the police, Terry. They’ll tell the press and I really couldn’t cope with that. And, like I said before, once it’s leaked, the killer will know who I am but I won’t know who he is.’ She sighed. ‘And there’s another problem. A biggie.’

‘I’m all ears.’

‘That little shit Waites. The cops will want to know what I was doing in the middle of nowhere. Which means I’ll have to tell them why I got out of his car. Which means telling them about the cocaine.’

‘Ah…’ said Terry. ‘That’s not good.’

‘Even if I don’t mention the Colombian marching powder I’d have to tell them about the pass he made, which means they’ll question him and that means he’s going to be as mad as hell.’

‘He might lose his job, is that what you mean?’

She shook her head. ‘I think it’s more likely the network will rally around him and I’ll be the one left out in the cold.’

‘So what do you want to do, darling?’

‘I don’t know, Terry. I just don’t know.’

‘You’re going to carry on as if nothing’s happened?’

‘I need time to think. If I don’t handle this the right way, my career could be over.’

‘A man died, Carolyn.’

‘I know that. But me going to the police won’t change that. For all we know he…’ She tailed off.

‘’What?’ said Terry.

‘Well, maybe he deserved it. Maybe he did something really bad.’

‘He was an accountant.’

‘Accountants can do bad things,’ said Carolyn. ‘We don’t know what happened, and we don’t know why it happened. All I saw was one man hitting another. I need to think about this before I can decide what to do.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I sound like a wimp, don’t I?’

Terry shook his head. ‘Darling, I was brought up in Brixton. People could be shot on the pavement and no one would see anything.  The cops would turn up and ask a hundred people and they’d all have miraculously been looking the other way.  Bad things have a habit of happening to witnesses in Brixton.  So I hear what you’re saying.  You take your time and whatever you decide is fine by me.’

Carolyn smiled at him. ‘Marry me, and bear my children,’ she said.

Terry laughed. ‘Darling, I thought you’d never ask.’

The door opened. It was one of the runners. ‘Terry, have you got a briefcase? Jake says a metal one, if you have it.’ The young man noticed Carolyn. ‘Oh, sorry, Miss Castle,’ he said.

‘Not a problem,’ she said. “I have to be in make-up anyway.’

‘What are you doing tonight?’ asked Terry. ‘Do you need company?’

Carolyn shook her head. ‘We’re filming until late and then I’m having dinner with my agent.’

‘Okay, but if you need me, call.’ He blew her a kiss and she pretended to catch it and press it to her heart. She waved goodbye and headed to the make-up department.

CHAPTER 26

Billy pulled up in front of the restaurant and twisted around in his seat. ‘I’m happy to wait for you, Miss Castle,’ he said.

‘No need, Billy,’ said Carolyn. ‘I’m a hop, skip and a jump from my house. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Billy picked up a clipboard with the call sheet. ‘Seven-thirty pick-up,’ he said. He grinned. ‘You get a lie in.’

Carolyn laughed and climbed out of the Mercedes. She waved as Billy drove off. The restaurant was a small Italian place she’d used for more than ten years. Luigi the owner ran the front of house while his wife and son worked in the kitchen. The food was good home cooking, the wine was reasonably priced, and they had a table in a corner that was partly obscured by a supporting wall on which Luigi had hung a large poster of the leaning tower of Pisa.  It was the perfect table for when she wanted a quiet meal alone or if she had business to discuss. And most of the diners were regulars which meant she was rarely disturbed by a fan wanting an autograph or a mobile phone photograph.