by R. J. Parker
‘Um…’ She looked awkward and then turned away from Leah and shouted up the stairs. ‘Katya! Somebody here to see you!’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thirteen hours earlier
Having just left Leah Talbot in the shower, Tate turned right out of her driveway and was about to return to his Nissan when he heard a car coming along the street. Its headlights extended along the road before him and he realised he would soon be lit up. Trotting across the tarmac he made for the cover of a tree and its shadow the other side.
Standing behind the trunk, he shrank back further as the vehicle slowed and pulled into Leah Talbot’s driveway. So Elliot was home at last. But as he watched from his hiding place, he could see there were two people in the car, one male, one female.
The male occupant, who Tate assumed was Elliot, got out of the passenger side first and looked up at the house. He was holding a paper bag of what looked like takeout food.
The female got out of the driver’s side. She was slim and had bleached-blonde hair. Dark fur coat and high black boots. Who was this?
Elliot, who was shorter than he’d imagined, bounced nervously on his feet while he waited for the woman to move around the car towards him.
‘Is she back?’ the woman asked.
They were both whispering but he could hear them perfectly.
‘Looks like it.’ Elliot pushed his hands in his pockets.
‘Why don’t we both go inside?’ she suggested, nervous determination in her voice.
‘No, not like this.’
Her shoulders sagged a little. ‘It’s not going to be easy, whenever we do it.’
‘I’m drunk. It’s not the right time.’ His body was stiff.
‘I’ll be with you.’ She reached out to him.
How old was she? Early twenties at the most?
He flinched from her touch. ‘You said you wouldn’t pressure me.’
She retracted her hand. ‘It’s been sixteen months. I wouldn’t call that pressure.’
Elliot shifted his attention back to the windows.
‘If she gets ugly, you can come and stay at my place.’
‘She won’t get ugly.’ Elliot seemed sure of that.
‘Then what’s stopping you? She’s got to know you’re moving on. When you do, she will too.’
‘She will. But this isn’t the way.’
‘When then?’ Exasperation raised her voice.
‘Quiet. She’ll hear.’
Elliot’s companion sighed.
‘Look, thanks for the lift. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Call me when you’re in bed.’
‘OK,’ he conceded.
‘Unless you’re still sleeping with her.’
He breathed slowly in. ‘Katya, how many times do we have to go over this?’
‘Then why don’t you tell her?’
‘I’ve told you, sorting out all our joint policies is going to be easier if she isn’t trying to kill me.’
‘You said she wouldn’t get ugly.’
‘She won’t. Just…’
‘Give you a little more time?’
He turned his head to the upstairs windows again. ‘Let’s talk about it on the phone. Not here.’
She looked down at the toes of her high black boots.
‘Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He waited.
She nodded then looked up again and put her arms around his neck.
Elliot stiffened as she kissed him hard.
Tate guessed she wanted Leah to catch them.
Eventually she let him go and then strutted off without another word.
He’d been expecting Elliot’s companion to get back in the car and pushed himself against the shadowy wall behind him.
She turned out of the driveway and strode up the street.
Elliot watched her go, faltered up to the front door, fumbled out his keys and then went inside the house.
Tate remained in the shadows because something else had caught his eye. Somebody was standing in the bedroom window of next door. He’d clearly been woken by Elliot’s and the girl’s conversation. Or had he been watching longer? The man talked to a woman behind him and then closed the blinds.
When he was sure the neighbour wasn’t going to make another appearance, he turned his head in the direction of Katya’s receding footsteps. So Elliot was cheating on Leah. And had been for sixteen months. And, it appeared, with someone right on their doorstep. But how close?
He regarded the quiet house before him. Part of him was relieved they were sleeping separately. Or had that been a lie for Katya’s benefit? But Leah’s comment about Valentine’s night said otherwise. He felt buoyed by the image of Leah showered and tucked up alone. Didn’t sound like Elliot was going to rush into any confessions tonight.
He headed off after Katya, picking up his pace and then slowing as she came into view on the other side of the street. He followed her at a distance for four minutes as she cut left down two side streets and then scrabbled in her handbag outside a glass front door.
He hung back as she produced her keys and went up the short pathway. He stole across the road, checking the darkened windows of the houses either side. But when his attention shifted back to Katya she had turned from the door and was looking directly at him.
‘Are you following me?’
He paused, halfway across the road.
‘Well?’
‘Yes.’ He intended to wrongfoot her with an honest answer.
She was briefly speechless.
‘I can’t deny it.’ His brain sped ahead of his mouth. ‘My name’s Martin Tate.’
She raised her palm as he took another step forward. ‘Just stay where you are.’
‘I won’t have to. This is effectively the end of my shift. My fault not yours though.’
She frowned.
‘I’m employed by Leah Talbot. I’m a private investigator.’
She didn’t react.
‘Now you’ve spotted me, there’s little point in me hanging around. But, full disclosure, I think I already have enough.’
‘She’s hired you to follow me?’ she asked, incredulous.
‘No. To follow Mr Talbot. But he led me to you.’
He could see her turn this over. A smirk eventually broke over her face.
‘I’m so sorry if I frightened you.’
She shook her head but was deep in thought. ‘No, that’s OK.’
‘And I hope you don’t take this personally. It’s a job. A shitty one sometimes but it’s a job.’
‘So, you’ll be reporting back to her?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’
She waved her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. You’ll be calling her in the morning, I suppose?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Yes, a little late now.’
‘OK. Goodnight,’ she said abruptly, turned her back on him and opened her front door.
He knew she was off to phone Elliot to warn him right away. She didn’t even look back. If she had she would have seen him coming up the pathway behind her and slipping on his blue gloves. She’d seen his face.
Silencing her, threatening her and getting her through the door to her apartment was easy.
Unfortunately, ten minutes later, as he laid out his razor blades and prepared to complete his work, he had to cut things short when he heard her roommate come home.
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘You’re not Katya?’ Leah had to stand to one side as the girl pushed by her.
‘No. I just work two jobs and pay her rent,’ she replied caustically before opening the front door.
‘Should I just go up?’
She turned, a look of sadistic satisfaction on her face. ‘Make yourself at home. She’s still asleep. Doesn’t usually get up until mid-afternoon but feel free to go in and wake her.’ A trace of sympathy registered in her expression. ‘I’m glad she’s not just my problem.’
‘You know who I am?’
The girl nodded onc
e. ‘You’re not the first marriage she’s ruined,’ she whispered, then glanced back up the stairs, as if afraid to be overheard. ‘Last door on the left,’ she hissed then headed out of the front door.
Leah was left looking up the faded crimson carpeted stairs. The door slammed shut behind her. She could now hear the muted TV from behind the door to number 19 over the clamour in her head.
Climbing the stairs two at a time she was greeted by the aroma of coffee at the top. Leah was standing on a long landing with white doors leading off. At the end she could see through the open door to the kitchen. Pots, pans and plates were stacked up in the sink under the window. She could hear the slow rhythm of a tap dripping onto the frying pan.
The last door on the left was shut. Leah padded down the faded runner, but the boards creaked as she approached. She paused outside the door. She could see right into the compact and spartan kitchen now. A dirty plate and a coffee mug were sitting on a small dining table in the corner. A single cafetiere steamed beside the draining board.
What should she do? Knock? Storm in? Leah leaned close to the panel. ‘Katya?’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘Katya,’ she repeated louder.
No response or movement from behind the door.
‘Katya,’ she stated the name flatly. But it suddenly struck Leah that the girl that shared with her hadn’t said she’d seen Katya. ‘Katya,’ she declared more urgently and knocked on the wood.
Still no reply.
Leah turned the cold brass knob and pushed in. A heavy scent of sweet perfume wafted over her. The room was in darkness, only a slim bar of daylight bisected the heavy curtains.
Should she turn on the light? Leah looked beside her for a switch but couldn’t see one.
From the illumination spilling in from the landing she could make out a shape under the dark duvet. ‘Katya?’ She didn’t want to drag the girl from the bed to confront her. Only one thing was important.
Leah approached the bed and could see the girl’s long bleached hair lying across the pillow. Her face was turned to the wall. She opened her mouth to say her name again but thought better of it.
She’d reached the mattress and Leah registered a number of pill canisters on the shelf over the bedstead. She waited, listened for the sound of the girl’s breathing.
Please be alive.
There was no sound. No movement of the duvet rising and falling. Momentarily, Leah was back at the roadside, waiting for the deer’s breath.
She extended her hand to the duvet and the material felt cold in her hot palm. ‘Katya.’ It was her last warning. Leah wanted the girl to jump in fright, to emerge bleary-eyed from the bed and demand to know who she was.
She pulled the duvet back in one movement, exposing all of Katya’s foetal position. She was naked and Leah could see a long dark snake tattoo across the shoulder nearest to her.
Leah knew she was dead before she turned her. Her fingers gripped her cold shoulder and her body resisted, stiffly.
She had to see her face. She found herself kneeling on the edge of the mattress, both her hands on the woman’s arm so she could roll her towards her. She still wouldn’t turn. Leah used more force.
The body gave but the face that lolled towards her on the pillow had a piece of cloth stuffed in its mouth. Katya’s cheeks bulged with it and her bulbous open eyes did the same. Looked like a pair of nylon tights had been stuffed inside. There was a black belt around her throat. The buckle was secured tight and the leather appeared to be embedded in her pale skin. Saliva had dribbled out of her mouth and streaked her chin.
Leah recognised the gold buckle. It was the belt Martin Tate had been wearing when he’d let her in to Alice Booth’s. She pushed herself away and stumbled back.
The edge of the open bedroom door struck her spine but she didn’t feel the pain. A scream was building inside her. Leah couldn’t take her eyes from the woman on the bed, her legs bent up and her arms stiff, the wrists curved and fingers turned in towards her chest.
Leah emitted a sound but didn’t know if it was a sob or a retch of repulsion. She was on the landing again, her back against the wall there and her gaze still on Katya. She’d never seen a dead body before.
A motorbike buzzed noisily by in the street outside and her face eventually turned in its direction. She was looking into the kitchen again, her attention on the window. Everything outside was normal. Nothing inside was.
The tap continued to drip onto the frying pan.
Dazed, Leah turned back to the stairs. What was she supposed to do now? She remained against the wall, her attention fixed there but her feet not obeying her brain.
Leave. Go. Move.
With Elliot’s life threatened, Leah couldn’t call the police but she couldn’t just walk away from Katya. She trotted quickly back into the bedroom and pulled the duvet back over her body. Only her hair was visible above it now.
Leah could smell the girl’s perfume even more strongly now. It was overpowering.
How old was she? Who were her parents? Did she have a brother or sister?
She started to choke on the cloying aroma as one truth presented itself to her. If Leah hadn’t stopped at Alice Booth’s place, nobody would have followed her to her house. And then nobody would have followed Katya home.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Leah pulled the door to 19a shut but it didn’t close. She slid her fingers under the metal tab below the keyhole and tried again, but it still wouldn’t lock. Beside her she could vaguely hear the TV muttering in number 19. She pushed the door all the way open so she could get a full swing and had a third attempt. The door still came to rest awkwardly in the frame. A harder yank didn’t make any difference. ‘Come on!’ she growled, aware that the man in the downstairs flat would probably hear.
The door clicked into place on the fifth attempt.
Leah could feel her heart knocking against her chest as she opened the front door and walked outside. She was glad of the cool fresh air on her face but Katya’s perfume still lingered about her.
How could she possibly leave Katya for her roommate to find when she got home? She looked up and down the street, but she was long gone. How long had Leah been inside, a handful of minutes? She inhaled sharply through her nose and checked the downstairs window, expecting to see a man looking out.
But the navy-blue curtains were closed. It didn’t matter if he saw her though. Katya’s roommate seemed to know exactly who she was.
She recalled the strangled sound Elliot had made during Tate’s phone call to her and the warning she’d been given. Leah couldn’t report Katya’s murder to the police. Not yet.
She found herself back in the street. A refuse collection lorry was working its way down from the end that Leah had entered. Which direction should she go? She took out her phone and tried dialling Elliot’s number again. Answering service.
She turned and looked up at the window. She could see the handle of the frying pan sticking up at the bottom of the kitchen pane and imagined the drip of the tap still thudding and Katya’s covered and motionless body on the mattress.
Bottles clunked and crashed as the refuse men got closer and Leah tried to focus on anything but what she’d just left behind her. What now? She had to go but didn’t know where.
The phone buzzed harshly in her hand.
‘Hello?’
There was a long pause. ‘Olivia?’ It was her father.
‘No, it’s Leah. Dad, I really can’t talk at the moment.’
Another pause, as if he were chewing over the name. ‘Leah, Rachel hasn’t arrived. I’m getting worried.’
‘Rachel isn’t due to call in this afternoon. I am.’
‘I know,’ he improvised.
‘Look, I’m going to have to go.’
‘What time will you be here? I was going to have a shower.’
‘Go ahead and have it.’ But it was something he seldom did. ‘Just be careful. I’ll be there as soon as possible.’ But when would that be?
�
�OK. I’ll be out by the time you’re here.’
She kept her eyes on the blue curtains of number 19. It was doubtful her father would remember he was having a shower by the time he’d put down the phone let alone that she was meant to be visiting. ‘Why don’t you just watch TV until I arrive.’
‘Uh…’ He considered it. ‘Yes, perhaps…’
He could do that for hours. At least Leah knew he was safe while he did that. ‘OK, just watch TV until I arrive.’ But she was also aware that it only took a small distraction to set him off in another direction. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ But there was no way she could go there now. What should she do? Call Rachel.
‘Hurry then.’ He sounded impatient and rang off.
Now she was worried that he wouldn’t go and watch TV. He’d already had a couple of falls in the bathroom. Leah could feel the situation begin to overwhelm her. Her breathing was shallow and even though the refuse men were getting steadily nearer the noises they were making seemed to be fading. Hold it together.
She headed away from them, putting one foot deliberately in front of the other and making her way to the high street end of Medford Avenue. She could see the traffic moving fast there but the situation seemed so unreal. She phoned Rachel but got her answering service. She was walking away from a dead body. But she had to if she wanted Elliot back. Where was he now? What was Tate doing to him?
The phone vibrated again.
‘Talking to someone?’ Tate sounded irritated.
Leah stopped dead. ‘My father called me.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘He’s got Alzheimer’s. He calls all the time.’
‘I won’t call back again if you’re on the phone.’
‘I’m sorry. He calls all the time,’ she repeated.
‘Where are you?’
‘I’ve been into Katya’s place.’ Just uttering her name brought the image of her last expression back. Her body started to tremble. ‘I saw what you did…’ Leah’s voice quivered too.
‘You spoke to her?’