Siren Song (Harrison Jones and Amy Bell Mystery Book 1)

by Rebecca McKinney

  ‘And has he?’

  ‘Not yet. As soon as Maya mentioned Tim and Lucy, he wanted to kill us.’ They turned around a corner and found a busy coffee shop. ‘In here.’ He pulled her inside and they made their way to a tiny bench table at the back. ‘I’ll get coffee. You keep your eyes open.’

  The café was overheated and he had started to sweat inside his coat. The pain in his head had dulled to the level of a particularly vicious hangover. Standing in the queue, he fought down nausea and tried to grasp any residual intent from the man in the storehouse. It was fear more than hate; he was a reluctant hitman, forced into it by circumstance, and he had a knife at his own back. He had been charged with a task he was afraid of fulfilling. That fear might come in useful, at some point.

  He bought the coffees and brought them back to Amy.

  ‘No sign,’ she said softly.

  ‘Good.’ Harrison peeled off his coat and sat beside her, also facing out. Amy shifted restlessly, legs jiggling and eyes darting through the crowd. Before even touching her coffee, she stood up.

  ‘I’ll be back in five minutes.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I want to have a look in a shop we passed.’

  ‘You want to go shopping?’

  ‘There’s something I need. It’s ... just girl stuff.’

  He knew she was lying, but felt too queasy to try to read her. ‘For Christ’s sake, be careful out there.’

  ‘Yes sir.’ She touched her fingers to her forehead. ‘I will be right back.’

  He sipped his coffee and scanned the café, feeling conspicuously foreign and alone in this crowd. Amy was as good as her word and back within five minutes. She eased back into the seat with a paper parcel crinkling inside the deep pocket of her parka.

  ‘Got what you needed?’

  ‘I hope so,’ she breathed, her cheeks flushed with the cold. ‘No sign of our friend, and now my coffee is just the right temperature.’

  ‘It’s gone cold.’

  ‘It’s just right. How are you?’

  ‘Better.’

  ‘Harri, you know that vision I had of Tim? In the water? Do you think it’s going to happen?’

  He studied her, hearing echoes of past traumas. There seemed little point in offering her false reassurance.

  ‘It might.’

  ‘And there’s nothing we can do about it.’

  ‘We can still try. Tim’s around. I can feel him. I’m sure he’s still in Athens. He’s determined to find Lucy and I doubt he has any clue how much danger he’s in.’

  ‘We know where Lucy is.’ She pulled out her phone. ‘He might just come to us if we message him and tell him that.’

  Harrison chuckled. ‘He might.’

  She cringed. ‘Go ahead, tell me all the reasons why that’s a really stupid idea.’

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s worth a shot. Try, and see what happens.’

  She paused, her cup halfway to her mouth. ‘What ... now?’

  ‘Yes, now.’

  Amy took her phone out of her pocket. ‘Where should I say to meet?’

  ‘Here. Right here. Café Stelios.’ He passed her the menu card. ‘Here’s the address. Tell him we’ll give him two hours max.’

  ‘You want to sit here for two hours?’

  ‘If we have to.’

  ‘Right, okay.’ She sighed, and her thumbs began tapping on the phone.

  Hello Tim, she wrote. My partner and I are private investigators from Edinburgh. We’ve been hired by Elizabeth Merriweather to find Lucy. We know you’re looking for her too. We believe we know where she is, and we need your help to bring her home. Please, come and meet us at Café Stelios… She paused to check the spelling of the street name.

  ‘Do I tell him to watch out for that guy?’

  ‘We don’t want to scare him off. Just tell him to get here fast.’

  …by no later than 4pm. Please trust us, and don’t mention this to anyone else. Come straight here as fast as you can. Amy Bell.

  ‘Good,’ Harrison said, reading over her shoulder. ‘Send it.’

  She pressed send and put the phone down. ‘What now?’

  ‘Now we wait. Why don’t you go online and see what you can find out about the police and emergency services on Hydra, just in case.’

  ‘Good idea. By the way, tomorrow’s Monday, right? What are you going to tell the university?’

  ‘I was going to phone in sick first thing tomorrow and hope to God we make it home by the end of the week.’

  ‘Hope to God we make it home at all, more like. I guess I’ll have to do the same.’

  ‘You say that with some relish.’

  ‘It feels like skiving school all over again.’

  ‘You were a tearaway, weren’t you?’

  She smiled. ‘I had my moments.’

  ‘I can tell. You want a cake or something?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh my God, you never stop. Where do you put it all?’

  ‘Hollow legs.’ He stretched them out under the table and crossed his ankles. ‘I’ve always been able to eat as much as I want.’

  ‘A man your age ought to be careful.’

  ‘A man my age?’

  ‘Middle-age spread and all that.’

  ‘Bugger that, I’m in Greece and I’m getting some baklava.’ He got up.

  When he came back to the table, with two sticky pieces of baklava on a plate, she slid her phone toward him. Harrison read the message from Tim:

  I will be there as soon as I can. Wait for me.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Amy recognised Tim Cartwright the moment he walked in. He was tall, slouching and pallid, with shaggy dark blond hair that didn’t appear to have been washed anytime recently. It was impossible to guess what a girl as stunning as Lucy had seen in him.

  Tim paused and looked around. She caught his eye and raised her hand, palm out. He approached cautiously, glanced over his shoulder and slid into the seat across from them. He smelled of body odour and cigarettes, even over the heavy wafts of perfume and strong coffee.

  ‘I’m Amy and this is Harrison Jones.’

  ‘Alright?’ Tim asked. His voice had a smoker’s croak. ‘Who are you, like? How do you know Lucy?’

  ‘Elizabeth Merriweather hired us to find her.’

  Tim’s lip curled into a sneer. ‘Elizabeth Merriweather doesn’t give a rat’s arse about Lucy. That bitch is rotten to the core.’

  Amy felt strangely compelled to jump to the defence of a client she’d never met. ‘She is Lucy’s mother, whatever you think of her.’

  ‘Lucy and I came here to get away from her.’

  ‘And you left Lucy alone here.’

  ‘She kicked me out.’ He shrugged away any responsibility. ‘You said you know where she is?’

  ‘We do.’

  He started to push back from his seat. ‘Well let’s go, then.’

  ‘Stay there, Tim, it’s not that simple,’ Harrison said. ‘She’s not in Athens and we can’t get there until tomorrow. There are some things you need to know. People know you’re sniffing around, and we bumped into a guy who is going to do his best to stop you from finding her. Do you take my meaning?’

  Tim’s face indicated that he did not. ‘Who?’

  ‘Your friend Kostas has paid someone to keep you away from Lucy.’

  Tim snorted. ‘She’s not with him anymore. He doesn’t know where she is either.’

  ‘I think you’ll find he does.’

  ‘Let’s just ask him.’ Tim looked over his shoulder again, and this time he waved at a smartly-dressed man who had just come in the door. Amy felt Harrison tense beside her, and her hand went into her pocket, fingering the paper-wrapped parcel inside. They were trapped in the bench against the back wall, and the café was too crowded to make a run for it now.

  ‘Tim, you stupid bastard,’ Amy muttered. ‘I told you to keep your mouth shut.’

  ‘He agreed to help me find her.’

  ‘I fucking bet
he did.’ She glanced at Harrison and read his expression all too easily.

  The man sauntered over in his long grey coat. He had dark golden hair and a face that should have been carved by a master sculptor. He offered his hand to Harrison, who shook it uncharacteristically, and then to Amy. ‘I am Kostas Gianopoulos. Tim tells me that Elizabeth Merriweather has sent you.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Harrison replied.

  ‘And you are not police.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘In that case, my car is outside. My friends, perhaps you would like to accompany me to my apartment so that we can speak openly.’

  ‘We can speak here,’ Amy said, spreading her hands on the table.

  ‘Miss Bell, I understand your concern. I assure you, no harm will come to you in my company. We want the same thing, which is to ensure Lucy’s safety. So, you believe you know where she is?’

  ‘We’re led to believe she’s on a yacht, on the island of Hydra. Your yacht.’

  Kostas smiled. ‘She is indeed there, but it’s not my yacht. She is working for the man who owns it. I believe together we might be able to negotiate the termination of her contract.’

  Harrison gave Amy a look of mingled triumph and admiration. ‘You’re trying to tell us you can’t do that yourself?’

  ‘What the fuck?’ Tim was spluttering, more to himself than to any of them. He turned on Kostas. ‘What the fuck, man?’

  Kostas waved him away like an irritating bluebottle. ‘It’s ... a little bit complicated.’ His voice was velvety and earnest. ‘I will show you the hospitality of my home, and I will have my driver bring you back to your hotel.’

  ‘We’re not going anywhere with you,’ Amy said.

  Harrison nudged her. He’s telling the truth.

  He’s evil.

  But we have to use him.

  ‘Jesus bloody Christ, you lied to me.’ Tim’s voice broke in desperation. ‘You said you didn’t know where she was. I asked you for help. Do you know how much pride I had to swallow to do that?’

  ‘It is not about pride,’ said Kostas, kindly. ‘It is about Lucy. A beautiful young girl, with her whole life in front of her. We have used her badly, both of us. Sometimes men learn these lessons only when it’s too late. I speak only for myself, of course.’

  Amy felt like an incendiary device, quivering at the point of explosion. Harrison touched her arm and met her eyes for no more than a second. She took a deep breath and relaxed.

  ‘We’ll come with you,’ he said to Kostas, ‘for one hour only. You can tell us what you know, and we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Of course. I thank you. Come, please.’

  They followed Tim and Kostas outside. ‘What are you thinking?’ Amy whispered through gritted teeth.

  ‘Trust me,’ Harrison replied. Then, abruptly, he caught her hand and held it tightly. ‘And keep that thing in your pocket. That’s not how this is going to happen.’

  The ferocity in his voice was something she hadn’t heard before. Anger flared like a gas flame. She should have known it was impossible to hide anything from him for more than a few seconds.

  He smiled and released her hand. ‘Come on.’

  They followed Kostas to a black Range Rover and sat in the back with Tim, while the driver snaked his way through congested traffic and falling darkness.

  ‘Have you been to Athens before?’ Kostas asked pleasantly, turning around in his seat. Shadows fell over him, accentuating his cheekbones.

  ‘I came as a child with my parents,’ Harrison replied.

  Kostas nodded. ‘I’m afraid our city is not as beautiful as it used to be. The economic crisis has taken its toll on everybody and everything. Nothing is ever fixed, nothing is cleaned, there is no pride anymore. So many people can only think about survival these days. Hardship breeds anger and other dangerous things. Of course, I have been very lucky. I must remind myself of this every day.’

  ‘Britain isn’t much better.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. The policy of austerity is all wrong. I believe that to truly succeed as a society, we must invest in people, especially the ones on the lowest rung. I see potential in everybody. This is why I support the Refugee Co-operative and many other charities.’

  ‘This is why you ...’ Amy started. Once again, Harrison’s fingers gripped her skin. She broke off.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Kostas said.

  ‘This is why you groomed Lucy the way you did,’ Tim said, rousing himself from a stale silence.

  ‘I didn’t groom her, Tim. I gave her an opportunity. I gave her a start. She has such a talent; I truly believed the world deserved to hear her voice.’

  ‘But not mine. You didn’t care if I sank like a stone while your little bird was singing.’

  Kostas only shrugged. ‘I’m very sorry about that, Tim. Hers was the brightest light. You ... were the accompanist, that’s all.’

  ‘I made her. I got her gigs in Edinburgh. She would never have done that without me. She was singing my bloody songs!’

  ‘I must give you credit for that,’ Kostas accepted. ‘We are nearly there.’ He turned around and faced front again before Tim could say anything further. Tim slumped back against the seat and gave off a sour, unwashed smell.

  They had entered a wealthier neighbourhood, with tree-lined streets and pale, clean stone Victorian houses. The driver turned under an archway and parked in a courtyard set back from the street. Through the darkness, Amy could see olive trees and planters with flowers still in blossom. Kostas unlocked an arched wooden door and led them up a flight of stairs and through a second locked door. The lights flickered on to reveal a soaring studio apartment with minimalist decor: quirky, ultra-modern furniture and art pieces. It was immaculate and looked practically unlived in.

  ‘I must apologise,’ Kostas said, slipping out of his coat and draping it over the back of a sofa. ‘The place is cold and not well equipped for guests. I spend most of my time in my country house outside of the city, and only come here when I am in town for business. My wife Kaliope insisted on buying it. The art is all her choice, not mine. Of course, she has much better taste than I do.’ He laughed. ‘I will turn the heating on and see what I have to offer. There is wine, at least.’

  ‘Will your wife be joining us?’ Harrison asked.

  ‘I am afraid that you will not have the pleasure of her company. She and I are currently estranged.’ He shrugged. ‘We both travel so much; we are like ships in the night. It takes a toll on the marriage. I am hoping that in time ...’ He lifted his hands and let them fall. ‘Who knows? She has every right to be angry with me.’

  ‘Do you have any children?’ Amy asked, almost feeling sorry for him all of a sudden.

  ‘None. It is a source of great sadness for us both. Please make yourselves comfortable. Perhaps while I get some food together, Tim will tell you how this all began. Tim, stick to the facts, if you don’t mind. These good people are more than capable of forming their own judgements about me.’

  He spoke with such gentility and grace that it was almost possible to believe that their assumptions about him were wrong. She wanted to follow him into the glossy marble kitchen and coax a tale of lost love and misunderstanding out of him, rather than listen to sweaty, shifty Tim.

  The man was a silver-tongued snake, she reminded herself. He was deliberately manipulating her emotions into a softer place, as if he could see into her the way Harrison did. She turned away from him, sat beside Harrison on a cream leather, L-shaped sofa, and said to Tim in her most unadulterated Belfast, ‘Right then, boyo, let’s be hearing it, and don’t you be selling us a line of shite, because we can sniff it a mile away. You understand me?’

  Tim propped himself on his elbows and ran his fingers through greasy hair. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

  ‘At the beginning,’ Harrison said. He stretched his legs out and waited, looking relaxed as a master interrogator. Tim, on the other hand, looked terrified and trapped.

  ‘Lucy and I m
et in Edinburgh. I was volunteering at a charity called LASAR-Net and doing a few gigs around the place. She got up to sing at this open-mic one night and she had this incredible, high, pure voice, like ...’ He drifted for a second, then brought himself back. ‘Anyway, we got talking and we decided to try to put some songs together. A couple of weeks later we got together ...’

  ‘What did she see in you?’ Amy asked.

  ‘That I respected her,’ he shot back angrily. ‘I wasn’t trying to use her or exploit her like everyone else had done.’

  ‘Everyone who?’

  ‘Her parents, for a start. Other men. When I met her, she was sleeping around for money, so she didn’t have to take anything from her parents. That’s how bad it was.’

  ‘What do you know about her parents?’ Harrison asked.

  ‘Lucy’s dad used her to seal business deals. When she was nine, ten, I don’t know, they started bringing her out to sing whenever he had his associates round. When she got a bit older, it went further than that.’

  Amy glanced at Harrison, who asked calmly, ‘Further how?’

  ‘They dressed her up, made her play the cocktail waitress. Got her to chat-up all these fat old blokes, stroke their egos, make them feel good about themselves. You get the idea?’

  ‘Did it ever go beyond that?’

  Tim took a deep breath. ‘She let one of her old man’s associates talk her into going to bed with him when she was fourteen.’

  ‘Do you know who?’ Harrison leaned toward Tim and held his gaze.

  Tim squirmed but seemed unable to break away. After five or six seconds, he physically covered his eyes with his hands. ‘How the fuck would I know who? She didn’t tell me his name.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Harrison said.

  ‘What the fuck is going on here, man? What’s your game?’

  Harrison didn’t move. He sat like a cat watching a wounded mouse scurry back and forth against the base of a wall, going nowhere. Amy had not thought him capable of this understated cruelty.

  Tim made a noise like somebody was crushing his windpipe, then looked up.

  Kostas arrived, carrying a large tray with a bottle of white wine, four glasses, and a plate of olives and stuffed vine leaves. He set this onto the marble coffee table between them and sat down. ‘The dolmas are not homemade, but they are good. The wine is made by a friend of mine. I believe you will find it to your liking.’