Corpse in Waiting by Margaret Duffy Page B

was defunct while he was inside. Not at all: it would be ticking away quietly under the care of some of these people until such time he was released. Or, as we had now been told, was rumoured to be functioning with orders being issued by him from inside prison.
    That was the background and it was not our brief to infiltrate the gang, merely to try to track down the woman, if indeed she still existed and had not come to a horrible end in Bath under a different name. One of Michael Greenway’s team had suggested a trawl through dental records in the area as a quick way of establishing the truth as then we would have instant identification material. But for practical purposes Romford can be regarded as part of Greater London and the number of dentists runs into dozens. We had already established that the practice where the woman who had called herself Imelda Burnside had been registered had no previous history of her, this blamed on a one-time inept employee who had somehow caused their computer to crash, destroying all the records.
    The address was a flat that turned out to be over a fish and chip shop in a busy road near the High Street. If no one was in we were going to break in, completely off the record and leaving no trace of our entry.
    â€˜Even if Irma had abandoned her home it wouldn’t have stayed empty all this time,’ I said when we had found somewhere to park the car and were walking back. ‘I should think the place was rented.’
    I had driven up from the West Country as the Range Rover has its uses – not being referred to as the ‘battle bus’ for nothing – and, most importantly, it has been adapted so Patrick can drive it. Having a right foot with no sensation does not make for good control and he only gets behind the wheel of conventional cars if he has to and then only for short distances.
    He said, ‘That’s something we shall have to discover because if it wasn’t and she owned it that rather strengthens the case for there having been two women. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been flat broke in Bath and had to live at the house in Cherry Tree Row.’
    â€˜Unless it didn’t sell for ages.’
    â€˜And David Bennett was telling the truth when he said Imelda had written to him saying she was going to live with her sister. Who had just, presumably, bought somewhere else to live. No more conjecture though. Let’s get to the truth.’
    We were assiduously ‘making a great team’ as Patrick had put it. There was no strained atmosphere and we were just being terribly, terribly businesslike. I had made up my mind that I was not going to mention Alexandra’s name unless really provoked or she arrived, all poisonous charm, and proceeded to strip a few more veneers off my husband.
    A little intelligence gathering was undertaken first. It was now just after four thirty and the fish and chip shop was open and full of noisy children just out of school. We waited on the pavement until the chaos inside had abated and then went in.
    â€˜The flat upstairs?’ said the man behind the counter who appeared to be in charge in response to Patrick’s query, backed up by his warrant card. ‘Yes, a woman lives there. But I don’t know who she is.’
    â€˜Are you the proprietor?’ he was asked.
    â€˜I am.’
    â€˜Are these properties rented?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Patrick then went on to ask him for the name and address of the landlord. The man had to go to a room in the back to get the information and when he returned he said, ‘You’ve missed her. I’ve just seen her go down the back stairs.’
    Patrick shook his head sadly. ‘Thanks. We’ll have to come back later.’
    We did not make the mistake of immediately making our way around to the rear of the building in case anyone’s curiosity in the chippy caused them to watch our activities for a while and we ended up by having to break in.