Chapter Eight
I lay looking up at the ceiling of the sterile grey and white decorated hotel room. Sleep had been sporadic, plagued by nightmares of corpses chasing me like angry zombies, the only one who could stop them, a tall angry man dressed in leather. The sooner I got to the bottom of my father’s financial problems, the better. Then I could head home, to my city flat and pastel colours, away from the hotel suite of depressing grey and white.
‘They’re letting me out today,’ the letters of the email blurred, coming together in a mass of black and then moving away again in temporary focus. My glasses sat on the side table, a centimetre or two out of the reach of my fingertips. Closing one eye, the image on my phone sharpened. ‘Come by the house and let me know how you’re getting on?’
It was a summons from my father, not an invitation, and the thought of having to play niceties to the wife not that much older than me, would use up time in my life I wouldn’t get back.
‘I’ll pop in when I’m finished at the Walker Office later,’ I replied, my finger hovering over the ‘send’ button for just a moment before I dropped it onto the touch screen, the email disappearing into the ether.
Carefully I sat up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed and grabbing for my glasses, pushing them up my nose and focussing on something through the hotel suite’s panoramic windows as I waited for the dizziness to subside. I’d not drawn the curtains when I flopped into the big king-sized bed last night, my brain finally calm. Outside, the empty bottle of wine still sat on the table on the balcony, a glass half-finished, and a cigarette stub in the ashtray. I could use a cigarette now. To start the day. But that had been a habit I’d defeated years ago. A stab of regret struck me between the ribs, a knot forming in my throat. My first real test of stress and I’d relapsed, stopping the taxi at a garage on the way home last night to buy a box of cigarettes and some wine to take the taste away.
*****
My head felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton wool, thick and fuzzy, and my limbs were heavy, like I’d spent the day before weightlifting. I needed to knock the wine on the head, do a detox, because with every glass I drank on a night, I was sure it was killing off more and more brain cells.
There was a buzz inside the Walker Office that morning, like the place and the people weren’t entirely dead. It was electrified excitement. And I didn’t know why. The girl on the reception desk glanced at me, diverting her eyes as quickly as ours caught, as if I might turn her to stone. I might if my mood was bad enough. But she said nothing, and I wandered past, the sound of false nails tapping a keyboard ricocheting round my skull.
It was as I pushed the key towards the office door I noticed it. The splintered wood. The damaged frame. Drawing the keys away, I nudged at the hollow wood with the heel of my hand; the door creeping open, slowly allowing me to see the carnage inside. Paper littered the floor. Two of the heavy filing cabinets pulled over.
“Shit,” I said to no one.
But someone did answer me.
“I know. We found it like that this morning. All bust up.”
“How?”
“Break-in.”
“Can see that.”
“Front doors were left unlocked, or someone picked the locks.”
Unlocked. Had I locked them when I’d charged out of them last night? Had the biker distracted me that much, I’d forgotten to lock up behind me? I couldn’t remember. But what I knew was there was someone in here with me last night. And I’d bet they were responsible for the mess.
“Anything else damaged or taken?”
Dave shook his head. “Just the computer on that desk,” he pointed into the office. “Luckily, no bodies were taken.”
“What? That’s a thing?”
“Aye. Happened a couple of times. Sometimes it’s just a mourning family member gone a bit crazy. But when the Kings…Sometimes it’s something more sinister.”
I hadn’t missed his slip-up. The mention of the Northern Kings again and something to do with them and the stealing of bodies. This club sounded more and more dangerous by the minute.
Sighing, I walked over to the strewn paperwork, eyeing up the space where the computer once stood. Now I really did have a problem. Because I knew there were things on that computer that I hadn’t been able to access yet, and I was pretty certain those things would not be in the cloud.
Last night was a good distraction. And whoever’s footsteps I’d heard, I was sure was responsible for the missing computer. Now I didn’t think it was a coincidence that I’d run into the biker, Fury, outside the building last night. But whatever this was, if he thought he could intimidate me, he had another fucking thing coming.
It took over two hours to tidy up the mess. Luckily, this was the only office that was targeted. And that told me something. Whatever was on that computer had been important. Something stored on the hard drive in Dave’s office. It had to be Dave. It could only have been he who had taken it.
My heels clacked down the corridor, the sound echoing off the woodchip papered walls. I was sure I’d announced my presence before I opened the door to the pokey little space that had now become Dave’s home.
“Dave,” I pushed the door open, not even knocking. “You got a minute?”
“Sure, Ms Fischer. Come in. Si….”
I’d already sat in the wooden chair in front of his table. You couldn’t really call the room I’d moved him to an office. Half the space was taken up with boxes, a mix of plastic troughs and cardboard boxes piled up on top of each other, barring the doors of the big metal cabinet they were stacked in front of. And not one of them was touched. Not a single one.
“From what I can tell,” I started, my eyes trained on the aging man in front of me, “nothing much was taken. Other than that computer of yours.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Not really, Dave.”
“Whatever information was on the hard drive is now gone with it. Who’d you think would want whatever was on that computer?”
Dave swallowed, reaching for the mug that sat in front of him, half of the coffee already drunk, the inside stained as dark as the remaining liquid.
“I didn’t use it much. Made a few posters with it, funeral itineraries, that sort of thing.”
“So, you would have no reason to take it?”
His eyes widened. Genuine shock. But I didn’t know whether that was at the accusation or that I was right about my suspicions.
“No! No. God no. Ms Fischer, I was at home last night. Not here breaking in.”
“Wife and kids can confirm that?”
“I don’t have any.”
He paused, waiting for me to catch up.
“I don’t have a wife or kids. My wife died years ago. We never could have children.”
That pang of guilt hit me hard in my stomach. But maybe that was what he wanted?
“So, the computer. Who else had access to it?”
“It was the office computer. Everyone had the password who works for the business,” he shrugged. “Have you contacted the police?”
“Yeah. There’ll be out to see us soon.”
“Probably shouldn’t have tidied the office up till they got here. Fingerprints and stuff.”
I probably shouldn’t. But I couldn’t have sat in that mess.
“Anything else you need me for, Ms Fischer? I have some embalming to do.”
“No. No. It’s fine, thank you.”
I should have suspended him, sacked him. Got him out of the way while I investigated. But suddenly I wasn’t so sure. Maybe the police could dust for fingerprints? Find some evidence? Dave was close enough to the accounts to be taking money out of the business. It was a brilliant cover to pretend to be a technophobic dinosaur.
I wandered back to my office, my pace quickening as I passed the room full of bodies, something I didn’t think I’d ever stop doing. I’d never seen a dead body, not even my mother. And for now, I wanted to keep it that way. I had no business being in there with them. I’d work behind the scenes and leave the people who could, to do.
The mountain of leather had returned. I hadn’t seen him straight away, my mind elsewhere, my thoughts whirring. But suddenly darkness had consumed the daylight, a shadow looming over the top of me. I jumped. My heart skipping a beat, sending a thick fluttering around my chest.
“Heidi,” his voice grumbled in the snug space of the funeral home’s reception.
“Oh. Hi,” I answered, surprised. “How can I help?”
“I just wanted to check you’re ok. After last night, I mean.”
Glancing around him, I could see the receptionist watching us, her face still, discerning. Stepping aside, I ushered into the broken office, pushing the door into the splintered door frame, the wood not quite securing in place.
Fury scanned the room, probably noticing something was different, even though the cabinets were back in place and everything tidied.
“What happened in here?” He asked, sinking into the seat in front of my desk.
“We were broken into.”
“The footsteps.” He almost breathed the words, his voice low, as if he was talking to himself, not me.
“That’s what I reckon.”
“Apart from that old computer, they take much?”
“You noticed that? I don’t think so.”
“Look, lady.”
I stared at him, not sure I had the energy to correct him, my head still heavy from a hangover that was showing no signs of fucking off.
“Heidi, sorry,” he corrected himself, and suddenly there was the hint of a grin lighting up his face. “I’ve got a proposal for you. I reckon we can come to an agreement on the funeral arrangements?”
“We’ve already discussed those.”
He reached for me, hot rough skin suddenly covering my hand. I moved to snatch it away, but his fingers curled around it, keeping it captive on the desk in front of me.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let go.”
My voice was a growl, a warning. But an empty one, because I had no clue what I was going to do if he didn’t let go. And I needed him to stop touching me, because it was sending confused messages to my alcohol pickled brain, and my heart thudding in my chest.