Free Honeytrap: Part 3 by Roberta Kray Page B

‘What’s going on? Why did they keep you so long?’
    Harry pulled a face, headed for the drinks machine and jabbed the button for a strong black coffee. ‘Because they don’t like the whole tape business. They think I’m hiding something.’
    ‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t the smartest move in the world.’
    Harry sipped the coffee and gave him a look. ‘Don’t start; I’ve had those two muppets giving me the third degree for the last two hours. They even brought up the Aimee Locke business as if I’ve got a problem with women, as if I’m some kind of sociopath or worse.’
    Mac perched on the side of the desk and grinned. ‘You’ve not got the best track record in the world.’
    ‘Huh?’
    Mac counted off the names on his fingers. ‘Aimee Locke, Ellen Shaw, that crazy redhead – what was she called? Antonia, that’s it. And then there’s Valerie … need I go on?’
    ‘So what’s your problem with Val?’
    ‘Nothing, other than her dumping you right after you almost got your leg blown off.’
    ‘She didn’t dump me … not exactly. You know what I was like back then. A bloody saint couldn’t have lived with me. And she stuck it out longer than most women would.’ Harry waved the subject away, not wanting to dwell on those dismal days. ‘Anyway, fascinating as this is, what’s the news on Westwood? You manage to dig up anything?’
    ‘Yeah, I made a few calls. He’s one rich bastard – inherited a fortune and made another since. He’s got a company that produces designer kitchen appliances: fancy coffee-makers, toasters, kettles, that kind of stuff.’
    ‘A rich man who doesn’t trust his wife. Who’d have thought it?’
    ‘Except he’s got an alibi for Friday night and Saturday morning. He was at a country house party for the weekend, nibbling on caviar and knocking back champagne. With lots of witnesses to swear he never left.’
    ‘So he got someone else to do it.’
    Mac pursed his lips. ‘On the same night that he hires us to test his wife’s fidelity? It’s hardly a cute move. He’s going to be top of the suspect list even before the police find out he didn’t trust her.’
    ‘Maybe,’ Harry said. ‘Or maybe he figured the truth was bound to come out anyway. People talk, they gossip. You can’t stop it. I doubt if Caroline’s cheating was a secret. He could have hired us as a smokescreen, a double bluff, so he could then turn round and ask that very same question: why would I be so stupid as to have my wife murdered on the very same night as I hired Mackenzie, Lind to set a honeytrap?’ Harry took another mouthful of coffee, swallowed and shrugged. ‘Might give the jury something to think about.’
    ‘It’s a risky ploy.’
    ‘Not if you’re going to be in the frame anyway.’
    Mac scratched his forehead while he pondered on it. ‘Well, it’s early days. Let’s hope Forensics come up with something useful.’
    ‘To get me off the hook?’
    ‘If you were on the hook they wouldn’t have let you go.’
    ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’
    ‘There must be CCTV in the hotel. Did you notice while you were there?’
    ‘There is, but not everywhere – and not on the landings. The guests, apparently, value privacy above personal safety. They don’t want some poorly paid security guard clocking who goes in and out of their rooms.’
    ‘Helpful.’ Mac hauled himself up from the edge of the table. ‘Look, I’m going to make a move. You want to come over for something to eat? Lorna’s doing a roast.’
    ‘Thanks, but I’m not much in the mood for company. I’ll take a rain check if that’s okay.’
    ‘If you change your mind, you know where we are.’
    ‘I appreciate it. Say thanks to Lorna. I’m just going to go upstairs and chill out for a while. You get off; I’ll lock up here.’
    ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
    As Mac left the office, Harry went over to the window and looked down. He was relieved that his partner hadn’t probed about Ellen Shaw; he’d fielded