Mrs Pargeter's Patio by Simon Brett

Author:Simon Brett [Brett, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2023-07-02T22:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Lunch at Greene’s seemed a logical progression after their morning in New Bond Street. Gary removed the Police Gazette and the chief constable’s cap from the BMW’s back shelf and then drove them the short distance to the hotel.

Hedgeclipper Clinton, alerted to their arrival, had a private room and an open bottle of champagne ready. He ensured that they continued with the Dom Pérignon. Gary continued with the sparkling water.

‘I’ve been working out the timings,’ said Truffler. ‘Given what Concrete Jacket told us about when Marek Grabowski was finishing off the patio at Lionel’s Den, if Chippie Lex was killed pretty soon after the last sighting of him at Hot Honey, his body must’ve been hidden somewhere else before it ended up in Chigwell.’

The others agreed, as their starter of oysters Rockefeller was brought in.

‘And Chippie was last seen in the company of Red Rollins,’ said Gary.

He didn’t need to say any more. They all knew the implications of his words. A small tug of annoyance might have been observed at the corner of Mrs Pargeter’s mouth. She didn’t like being suspicious of Red Rollins. For the simple, sentimental reason that she was fond of his daughter. But she always trusted instincts born of emotion rather than those born of logic.

‘Pity we can’t find out more about the actions of Marek Grabowski over that time,’ she said. ‘Anyone else we know who might have had contact with him?’

The three men shook their heads in frustration.

‘Do we even know what he looked like?’

‘I can show you an image,’ said Hedgeclipper Clinton, reaching into his pocket for his mobile. ‘You know, I did some research on him.’

He showed the screen to Mrs Pargeter. Marek Grabowski had been a good-looking man, but the thin line of his mouth suggested a streak of cruelty. It was only a head-and-shoulders shot, which showed him to be wearing a fleece over a T-shirt.

‘I suppose,’ said Gary, after a sip of his sparkling water, ‘you could have another chat with that dolled-up girlfriend of his.’

‘I think we probably got all we were going to get from her,’ said Mrs Pargeter. ‘She was only interested in his money. Not too bothered how he came by it.’

‘I was just thinking, Hedgeclipper,’ said Truffler Mason slowly, ‘about something you said.’

‘I’m honoured. When was this?’

‘We was in the car, Gary and me, and you rung about the research you’d done on Marek Grabowski.’

‘Yes, I remember that.’

‘You said, when Marek wanted to make himself unrecognizable, he went to “the best disguise artist in London”.’

‘Mm. So?’

‘Well, Hedgeclipper, we know who “the best disguise artist in London” is, don’t we?’

Mrs Pargeter beamed, as she said, ‘TTT.’

They did the call on Zoom. The plan was for Truffler to ask the questions but, needless to say, technophobe that he was, he had nothing to do with setting up the meeting. Hedgeclipper Clinton did that, and the four of them sat in his office, in front of his laptop screen, waiting for Tina the Transformer to appear.

Her glamour and energy were instantly switched on.

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