Penn knew exactly what she meant. There were people who had that something that you couldn’t name but it commanded attention when they entered a room. He had enough self-awareness to know that he was the complete opposite. He could enter a room on a unicycle and not one person would remember him later.
‘Then what?’ he asked.
‘She got a drink and sat at that table. She did something on her phone and then put it away. Probably a few minutes later, a man came in. He bought a drink and went to her table.’
‘Could you describe him for me?’ Penn asked, taking out his notebook.
‘Slim build, light brown hair, probably mid-forties, navy suit, white shirt. I didn’t see his shoes though.’
Penn almost laughed. It was quite a generic description but still better than what most witnesses would have recalled.
‘The lady stood up and they hugged. They sat close together. Each time I looked, they were closer, all secretive and whispering. They were touchy-feely and leaning in to each other, a bit like honeymooners. I don’t think they’ve been together very long. She was flicking her hair and touching her lips as though she really wanted him to like her. It was a bit of a performance.’
‘Did you see anyone with a camera?’ he asked, remembering the boss’s call.
She nodded. ‘Oh yes. That man came in before the lady. He sat over by the fruit machine. Nice camera. He was cleaning it, I think.’
‘So, what happened next?’
‘Well, the chappie with the camera left, and it was a bit weird because not long after that she pulled away from the man she was with. The flirting stopped and she seemed a bit bored, as though she was ready to leave. He wasn’t looking any less keen, and he put his hand under the table, you know, for a… well, you know,’ she said, looking uncomfortable for the first time.
‘You think he was touching her intimately under the table?’ Penn asked.
‘I think he tried, but she jumped away like a scalded cat. She was really angry. Her face was completely different: hard, disgusted. She said some stuff that I couldn’t hear, and then he was angry as well. He got up and like towered over her, hissing something in her face.’
‘Did you hear anything he said?’ Penn asked.
‘He told her she’d be sorry before he stormed out. Oh my goodness, he didn’t do something to her, did he?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ he said, wondering if Rita had not only entertained herself watching Nadine but had in fact just witnessed the reason for her murder.
Thirty-Nine
It hadn’t taken a lot of detective work to bring Kim to a house on the Stourton Road.
Nadine’s Facebook page had listed Images Modelling Agency as her place of employment. A quick search of Companies House had given Kim a registered address as well as the information that the company had declared a turnover of less than one hundred thousand pounds for their first five years in business, but upwards of a million for the last three. Kim had to wonder at the change in fortunes of a company she’d never heard of.
As Bryant parked the car in front of a reasonably sized detached home with a Jaguar on the drive, Kim was still trying to process what Penn had relayed to her about Nadine’s last moments. She idly wondered if there was some way they could get Rita on the payroll.
‘Nice,’ Bryant said, taking a good look at the car as they passed it.
Although Kim could probably identify everything about any passing motorcycle, her knowledge and interest didn’t stretch to cars. She knew the badges, but establishing how high up on the food chain a model was fell to the remit of her partner. His one-word statement, tinged with both envy and longing, told her it was a pretty expensive car.
The house was formed of weathered brick with oak bay windows at the lower level. To the right was a three-car garage, and to the left was what looked like a recently added guest cottage.
The door was opened by an attractive woman in her mid-forties. Her clothes were good quality and would be categorised as smart casual. She wore two-inch heels, and her hair and make-up were perfect. If this was the effort she put into being at home, Kim could only wonder how she might look to go out.
Bryant introduced them both as the sound of classical music reached her ears.
The woman frowned but stood aside for them to enter. ‘This way,’ she said, pointing to a room on the right, where the music was playing.
The room was a home office and a sizeable one at that. A reception room had been sacrificed for the woman to work from home.
‘Beethoven, Grosse Fuge,’ Kim said, nodding towards the sound system.
‘Correct, Inspector,’ the woman said, turning it down. It was one of the composer’s string quartets, and one of his final achievements before his death. ‘It helps me work,’ she added.
Kim remembered fitting an exhaust system to a Triumph 2000 to this very piece of music.
