Unfinished Business

by W. Soliman

  “But she obviously didn’t care about Brett and me.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.” I briefly covered one of her hands with mine. “I think it was more a case of her being too taken up with her own problems to give either of you much thought. She was still very young, remember.”

  “You make her sound selfish and self-centred, which is not how I remember her.”

  Not surprising if I am, I thought, given that was how I was starting to think of her. “That wasn’t my intention.” I paused to take a swig of my beer and gather my thoughts. “I’m just trying to put myself inside her head. But anyway, I’ll bet she’s given a lot of thought to you both since she started her new life. Bear in mind she was determined to disappear but still allowed herself to be photographed with your brother. She wouldn’t have taken such a risk if he didn’t mean something to her.”

  “I suppose.” She looked directly at me. “But she knew Dad wielded the power in our household. Okay, so Mum knew she was safe, but how would that prevent Dad from continuing to look for her?”

  “Whatever she said to him during that phone call she made did the trick there. His attitude changed completely after that.”

  “Yes, I wonder what it could have been.”

  I shrugged.

  “I don’t have a clue. What I keep coming back to is where this mysterious woman materialized from.” I stared at the water below us as I mulled the question over. The swans had been joined by a dozen or more ducks, and a feeding frenzy was going on. “You said your father kept her under close control when you raced. So presumably she only crewed on his boat.”

  “Yes…no, wait a minute.” Kara lapsed into thought. “That last year she’d started crewing on a sixty-footer that was skippered by a woman. It had an all-female crew.” She looked annoyed with herself. “How could I have forgotten that?”

  “Because you didn’t think it was significant. Can you remember the name of the boat, or the name of its owner?”

  She wrinkled her brow. “I think the boat was called Laissez-Faire, but I can’t remember who owned it. I don’t think I ever knew.”

  “No worries. I dare say the Small Ships Register will be able to tell us everything we need to know. Was the boat on a British flag?”

  “Sorry, I don’t know that either. But I do know someone who works at Lloyds Register. Perhaps she’ll be able to look it up for me.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave that to you.” I paused to assimilate my thoughts. “It would explain why she was targeted by a woman for a plum job on a super yacht, of course. If she’d been seen crewing competently on a large yacht with a load of other women, I mean. We both know jobs on those gin palaces are highly sought after. The last thing the owners need to do is go on hunting expeditions for suitable crew.”

  “So why did they?”

  I paused again, my attention on the squabbling ducks as I tried to decide if I ought to say what was on my mind. “Well, perhaps—”

  “It’s all right, Charlie, I know what you’re trying to say. Perhaps my first thoughts when I heard she’d gone off with a woman were right.” She took a large sip of vodka. “Okay, so what next? When do we go to Weymouth?”

  “After you’ve checked out the ownership of that yacht. The likelihood of it being in the same hands after all this time is remote but it’s still a good starting point.” It was our only starting point but I didn’t bother to say so. I also didn’t mention that I intended to revisit her mother and Ramsay one more time before we set off.

  We had another round of drinks and I polished off a steak pie. Kara merely toyed with some nachos, still deeply shocked by her mother’s duplicity.

  “I wonder if Jas ever asks after me when she speaks to Mum?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t ask her.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want to know.” She shook her head. “But what I can’t figure out is why Brett didn’t tell Mum he’d made contact with Jas. After all, Jas must have told him she still phones home, so why all the secrecy?”

  “We don’t know that. Your sister’s been playing her cards very close to her chest.”

  “True, and I suppose if she wants to keep her life compartmentalised she might have asked Brett not to mention they’d met to Mum.”

  “Yes, that’s probably what happened. After all, he didn’t even tell you. You only found out when you came across that picture.”

  She sighed. “We aren’t going to find any answers sitting here. Come on, let’s get back to the boat and get to work.”

  Pleased to see some of her old spirit returning, I drained my glass and stood.

  “I’ll get onto my friend at Lloyds right away,” she said as we left the pub. “What will you do?”

  “Before or after I’ve taken Gil for his constitutional?”

  I left Kara aboard the No Comment trying to track down her friend at Lloyds Register. Gil and I set off for our usual afternoon ramble along the beach on the eastern perimeter of the marina. It was usually quiet there. Gil was able to chase the seagulls to the water’s edge and charge after the sticks I threw for him without upsetting the local busybodies who consider dogs, even on rocky unused beaches, to be health hazards.

  After half an hour I whistled to Gil, and as I turned towards home I waved at a familiar figure approaching.

  “Joe, what brings you here?”

  “Thought this was where I’d find you. I went to the boat but the Webb girl said you were out with Gil.”

  “Well, you know me, mate,” I said, surprised Joe hadn’t made some comment about Kara getting all cosy on the No Comment. “I’m a creature of habit.”

  “Not all of them savoury.”

  But there was none of the usual humour in my old partner’s voice. I frowned. He looked terrible and I wondered if he’d picked up some sort of bug. Or worse, if he was getting all territorial about Kara being in my domain when he had such high hopes for Sarah in that respect. Whatever the reason, something had happened to seriously piss Joe off. The deterioration in his appearance since our fishing trip a few days previously was astonishing. He looked wild, his hair and clothes unkempt, his face haggard. He was plagued with high blood pressure and I hoped he hadn’t received bad news about his health.

  “What’s up, Joe? You don’t look too good.”

  “No, I don’t suppose I do.” He ran his hand through his short thin hair. It stood up in spikes where he ruffled it, making him look as though he’d just stuck his fingers in an electrical socket. “I need a word. Can we sit down somewhere?”

  “Sure.” I left Gil to torment the seagulls and steered Joe to a nearby bench. “What’s on your mind, mate?”

  “Well, the thing is, Sarah told me Harry wasn’t at school today. Is he okay?”

  I didn’t try to hide my surprise. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s gone off with Emily to Spain to stay with her parents, that’s all.”

  “But I thought they were going at the end of term.”

  “Their plans changed. Nothing much happens during the last couple of weeks of the summer term so it doesn’t make any odds.”

  He let out a long breath. “No, I suppose not.”

  I looked at Joe askance. “What’s this all about, mate? You’re not looking like death warmed up because my son’s missing a few days of school, that’s for sure.”

  Joe expelled another laboured breath and stared at his feet. “Thank God he’s okay.”

  “Joe?” I frowned at the unpleasant sensation seeping through my bones. “I think you’d better tell me what this is all about.”

  “Christ, don’t you think I want to? That’s why I’m here.” He finally lifted his gaze from his feet and looked at me. “But before I say anything, I just want you to know that I never intended Harry to get involved.”

  “Involved in what? You’re not making any sense. Has this got something to do with Sarah and Amy?”

  “God, no! This is all about me being a bloody idiot.” He stared off into the distance. “I’m so sorry, Char
lie, but it was me who put that note in Harry’s bag when I went to pick Amy up from school the other day.”

  Nadia heard the door from Igor’s study to the corridor open and scampered back to bed. The meeting must be breaking up, and in all probability her husband would come to check on her. She trembled at the thought of his reaction if he caught her eavesdropping. For the first time in her life she was afraid of him. He engendered that sensation in others. She’d seen tough men reduced to quivering wrecks when they’d done something to displease him, but he’d never treated her with anything other than love and tenderness.

  Provided she did as he asked, of course.

  How had that thought crept into her brain? Why was she only just realizing how comprehensively he controlled every aspect of her life, right down to taking the pills he forced upon her? And more to the point, when had she stopped asserting herself and allowed it to happen?

  She pulled the covers up to her chin and curled her knees up to her chest in a defensive ball, disciplining herself to take deep, calming breaths as she waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. Repeatedly she tried to deny the words she’d overheard. Her Russian wasn’t fluent—she’d obviously got it all wrong.

  But Nadia knew in her heart of hearts that she hadn’t. Igor was furious with his daughter, and with Viktor too. They had bungled something, exceeded their authority, which was never a wise thing to do with Igor. Nadia sensed the return of all the uncertainties she’d experienced when Brett died. Igor knew more about his death than he was letting on. But what had Kara to do with it, and who was the person called Hunter they were linking her name with? Why were they shouting at one another about her family? None of it made any sense.

  The connecting door opened and Nadia heard Igor’s soft footfalls traversing the thick carpet. She screwed her eyes tight shut but was convinced he must be able to hear the crashing of her heart against her rib cage. She could sense him looming over her and, when his hand gently brushed the hair away from her cheek, she didn’t know how she stopped herself from leaping with fright.

  She let out a long breath when she heard him leave the room again. He wouldn’t be back for a while. She’d heard him tell Viktor to bring the car ’round. They had business elsewhere. Nadia sat up, wondering what she ought to do about what she’d overheard. Should she do anything? Dare she?

  Yes. She felt some of her old determination returning. She’d spent fifteen years living by Igor’s code, ignoring his activities and trying to coax him into legal pursuits. But this time he’d gone too far. If Igor was involved with the death of her brother then she needed to find out how. And why.

  She couldn’t possibly confront him directly, and everybody in this house was unswervingly loyal to her husband. Everybody except one, possibly.

  Nadia showered and dressed carefully and then went downstairs and played with the children. Olga told her Igor wouldn’t be home for dinner. Excellent. She was unsure if she’d be able to face him right now and needed to follow up on her half-formed plan to get at the truth before her courage failed her.

  “Then I shall eat with the children and put them to bed myself,” she said. “You can have the evening off, Olga.”

  The woman looked as though she wanted to argue but in the end she settled for a frosty, “As you wish, madam,” and left the room.

  Having read the children a bedtime story, Nadia closed their door and went in search of Anton. She found him alone in the library, working on a laptop. He was an ace with computers and kept electronic track of her husband’s business activities—a sort of online accountant, she supposed. He looked up when she walked in, smiled in his shy manner but didn’t say anything.

  She returned his smile, told him she was going for a walk and slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar. As she anticipated, Anton followed her into their extensive rear garden and fell into step behind her. It wouldn’t be safe to talk to him in the house. There were too many people about who’d report it to Igor. But there was nothing more natural than for her to take a stroll in the garden on a lovely summer’s evening. And nobody would think anything of Anton accompanying her. After all, that was part of his job.

  “It was you, wasn’t it, Anton?” she said after they’d strolled some way in silence.

  “It was me, what?”

  “You left the newspaper with the account of my brother’s death where you knew I’d see it.” She watched his face as he struggled to decide what to tell her.

  “Yes,” he said. Nothing more, just “yes.” She knew him to be a man of few words but felt she deserved more of an explanation than that.

  “Why? You didn’t tell my husband when we met that time, did you?”

  “No. But I knew when your brother was reported dead that you should know. Mr. Kalashov, he say not to tell you, but I don’t think that was right.”

  “Thank you, Anton.” She touched his hand, and his face flooded with colour. “What else can you tell me about how Brett died?”

  “Nothing.” He looked away and she knew he was lying.

  “I know you weren’t involved, Anton, but I need to understand what happened to Brett.”

  “I know nothing about it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let you see that paper after all. Mr. Kalashov was right, it has upset you.”

  “No, Anton, I’m not upset, I—”

  They heard the sound of tyres on gravel. “They’re back early,” he said, looking nervous as he faded into the shrubbery.

  Damn! Nadia had lost her chance.

  Chapter Eight

  Just for a moment I was tempted to laugh. This had to be some sort of sick windup. But one look at Joe’s stricken features and I knew it wasn’t. Still, it took a moment for my sluggish brain to assimilate his admission. It could only mean one thing, and I wasn’t ready to believe that of my mentor and friend.

  “I think you’d better explain,” I said, aware of the tension in my voice.

  “I wish it was that straightforward.” Joe leaned his elbows on his thighs and dropped his head into his hands.

  “I’d say it was pretty straightforward. You put a threatening letter in my son’s bag because some scumbag you’re involved with told you to.” I felt my anger rising. “And didn’t give a toss about putting Harry in danger.”

  “No, Charlie, you don’t understand.”

  I balled my fists to prevent myself from grabbing Joe by the collar and throwing him in the sea. “You’ve got that right. I don’t.”

  “Being reduced to putting that note in Harry’s bag made me realize what I’d become. That’s why I’m here.”

  I snorted. “It’s a bit late to develop a conscience.”

  “If I can’t hold my head up in the presence of my best mate, then what’s left for me?”

  “Perhaps you should have thought about that before you acted.”

  “That’s easy for you to say because you’ve still got your self-respect. I lost mine a long time ago.” He sighed. “But enough is enough. I don’t care what happens to me anymore.”

  “Tell me,” I said, tight-lipped.

  “Well, it started when I was new to the force. I’ve always had a taste for the gee-gees, you know that.”

  I nodded, already wondering if this was something to do with a gambling scam. But if it was, how could it possibly involve Jasmine Webb, and why was it so imperative that she remain hidden?

  “Well, I was just about keeping my head above water, losing more than I could afford, but I was a single bloke, under pressure in the job. We all have to have some form of release, you know that, and mine is the thrill of a punt.”

  “But you got in over your head?”

  “Yeah, and if the brass had found out, it would have been curtains for my career. But still I thought I’d be able to sort it.” He shook his head. “And I would have, except I met Barbara and fell for her. Heavily. At first I gave up gambling, I didn’t need it anymore because I had her.”

  “Did she know?”

  “Yeah, and she
was supportive. Said she understood. But she didn’t know how badly in debt I already was. I didn’t dare explain and risk losing her. We had two incomes so I’d work it all out without her having to know.”

  I nodded. It was true what Joe said. The demands placed upon policemen were extreme and almost all of us had to have something to compensate so we could do our jobs effectively. Some drank too much, others womanised, some gambled. I was one of them. A regular face in the nick’s poker school. Most managed to keep their addictions within the bounds of acceptability but there were always one or two who self-destructed. I would never have pegged Joe as one such and was almost sympathetic. Until I remembered what he’d been reduced to.

  “You’ll have me in tears in a minute,” I said in an icy tone. “Just get to the point.”

  “I was about to.” He ran his hands through his unruly hair. “Christ, Charlie, this is hard.” I didn’t trust myself to speak. “I would have worked it out. I stayed away from the bookies, was the first to volunteer for overtime and gradually made inroads into the debt.”

  “With the bookie?”

  “Well, no.” He couldn’t meet my gaze.

  I groaned. “You weren’t in with a loan shark?” When Joe said nothing I almost lost it.

  “Jesus, I don’t believe I’m hearing this!”

  “It would have been all right. I had it under control and the end was in sight.” He paused.

  “Then Barbara fell pregnant. We weren’t planning to start a family for a few more years and I would have been straight by then.”

  “And so you started gambling again.”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for Joe to drop his head any lower but somehow he managed it.

  “You have to understand, I was desperate.”

  I took a deep breath, attempting to quell my disgust. “How did they turn you?”

  “I was approached one day in the bookies by a man I’d never seen before and never have since.”