Unfinished Business

by W. Soliman

  “That’s hardly Kara’s fault.”

  “I pleaded with him to stop,” she said, speaking over my interruption. “But, of course, that’s what he wanted, I can see that now. He got turned on even more when I begged.”

  “I’m sorry.” It sounded inadequate but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “But why are you still living with him? Brett and Kara left home years ago. You’d have still been young enough to get a job, and the courts would have awarded you something from your joint property eventually, whatever he did to put a spoke in the works.”

  “I stayed,” she said, enunciating each word with exaggerated care, “because of why he argued with Jas.”

  I sat straighter, sensing we were getting to the crux of the matter at last, but she lapsed into an uneasy silence again. “Mrs. Webb?”

  She let out a long breath. “Jas found out her father was abusing Brett.”

  “Oh, shit!”

  “Yes, when I said he liked kinky sex, what I’m really telling you is that he liked to violate me anally. The night Kara was conceived he was out of control. Couldn’t seem to get enough. I was bleeding and begged him to stop so he took me the conventional way.” She looked at me through dead eyes. “Well, conventional for him anyway.”

  I stood and swiped the hair away from my eyes. Mrs. Webb had just confirmed my suspicions. I was pretty sure it had to have been domestic violence or sexual abuse that had driven Jasmine away. That’s why I’d wanted to talk to her without Kara present.

  “I honestly never knew about him and Brett. I knew of his proclivities, so I suppose I should have suspected, but I didn’t think even he would sink that low.” She lifted her shoulders and lit another cigarette. “I let him carry on doing it to me, thinking that would keep him satisfied. But one day when I was out in the afternoon, Jas came home from college early and found him and Brett together.” She exhaled loudly. “She loved her brother but never had much time for her father. As you can imagine, she went wild. She physically attacked Alan. Threw everything she could lay her hands on at him. Then she wanted to go to the police and expose him for what he’d done to Brett.”

  “But you stopped her?”

  “Yes, for Brett’s sake.” A tear ran down her wrinkled cheek. “I felt responsible, you see. I should have known!” She was trembling. “A mother ought to be able to sense these things, but I didn’t have a clue.” She fixed watery eyes on me. “What does that say about me?”

  “It’s not uncommon, believe me. No woman likes to think the man she married is capable of such perversion.”

  “Yes, but still.” She fell silent for a moment. “Anyway, if it all came out, it would have been even worse for Brett and I couldn’t put him through that.”

  “They protect the identity of the victim.”

  She cast me a withering glare. I probably deserved it. “Do you think that really works? The local rag would have had a field day, seeing such a respectable pillar of society up on a charge of paedophilia. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to link Brett to it all, and can you imagine how he’d have been treated at school after that? He already felt confused and guilty for letting it happen, thinking he was somehow to blame. Having to relive it through the courts would have crucified him.”

  I knew she was right and conceded the point with a nod. “But how could you be sure it wouldn’t happen again?”

  “By frightening my husband rigid with the knowledge I then held against him. That’s when the balance of power within this family finally swung in my favour. Appearances are everything to Alan, and I knew he wouldn’t risk touching Brett again. All I had to do then was reassure Brett and somehow make him realize it wasn’t his fault. Alan had told him he was special, it was their secret…the usual crap these perverts spout to allay their guilt. Brett was such a sensitive child, he actually believed what they were doing was normal because his father said it was.” She paused, anger radiating from her in waves as I forced her to relive the nightmare she’d buried with her son. “I’ve often thought that’s why Brett was never able to have a proper relationship with a woman. He didn’t seem to have any sex life at all, thanks to that bastard.” She pulled hard on her cigarette and glowered at the tabletop. “Perhaps he’s better off dead.”

  “Didn’t you worry about Alan finding another child outside the family?”

  “No, he wouldn’t have risked that. Besides, I made it my business to always know where he was back in those early days. In his line of work he mixes with plenty of men but has no reason to come into contact with children. I didn’t care what he did with consenting male adults, just so long as he left the kids alone.”

  “So you stayed to protect Brett and Kara?”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t have touched Kara. It was the boys he preferred. But yes, I stayed to protect Brett. I moved out of the bedroom and told him if he ever laid so much as a finger on Brett, or any other child again, then I’d go to the authorities and get Brett to tell them all he’d done to him. I meant it as well and he knew it.” She looked up at me, her expression malicious.

  “So now you know our dirty little secret. Happy now, are you?”

  I was far from happy, and no further forward in understanding what had happened to Jasmine, even if I now understood why she’d left. “Thanks for telling me. It helps.”

  “I don’t see how. Will you tell Kara?”

  “I can’t see what that would achieve.”

  “Good. Jas was adamant that she didn’t need to know, even when she was old enough to understand. Her way of protecting her little sister, I suppose.”

  Kara would be gratified to know Jasmine had cared enough to make that stipulation but I couldn’t let on without telling her the rest of it. I thanked Mrs. Webb and left the house, anxious to catch Ramsay again before college finished for the day. I was in luck and only had to wait ten minutes before he emerged into the car park.

  “Another word,” I said, cutting him off before he reached his car.

  “What now?”

  “Two things. Describe the man who approached you in the pub about Jasmine.”

  “It was fifteen years ago.”

  “And you haven’t forgotten a thing about him. Not if you loved Jasmine as much as you’d have me believe.”

  “All right.” He screwed up his eyes. “He was short and stocky. Muscular, like he worked out. Light-haired, blue eyes, very tough.”

  Not the same man who’d approached Joe then. “Accent?”

  “East European, I think. Possibly Russian or Romanian.”

  “I see.”

  “You said you had two questions.” Ramsay glanced at his watch.

  “Yes. They didn’t ask you for just any girl, did they?” I moved to within inches of him and looked directly into his face. “They specifically asked for Jasmine.”

  Ramsay, who’d been waving over his shoulder to a colleague, turned sharply to look at me. “How did you know?”

  “I’m a detective. Presumably you were told to give her a specific message that would make her feel it was safe to go to a meeting.”

  “No, I was to tell her Angela Smith wanted to talk to her and give her a number to call.”

  “And nothing else.”

  “Yes, if she indicated she didn’t intend to ring, I was to mention her sister seemed to be shaping up as a good little yachtswoman, as well.”

  I hadn’t been expecting that and it threw me completely off balance. Jasmine had been coerced into meeting with this Angela Smith in order to protect Kara. Why was a seventeen-year-old English girl so important to these Eastern Europeans that they’d resorted to such underhanded tactics to entice her away? It just didn’t make sense.

  “And she went?”

  “Presumably. She was very tight-lipped after that, in a perpetually bad mood, and wouldn’t tell me anything. But after a while she became very excited. We got away from here early on a Wednesday afternoon and went back to my place. I’ve never known her so athletic in bed. It was incredible.”
He looked up at me. “But it was her swan song, I realized afterwards, her way of saying goodbye. I never saw her again after that.”

  I gave a contemptuous snort and walked away.

  When I returned to the boat I was greeted by appetising smells coming from the galley. The bar was laid for two, complete with wineglasses and napkins. Gil was dogging Kara’s every footstep so closely that I was surprised she didn’t trip over him. I wasn’t sure if I enjoyed the domesticity or felt threatened by it but had too much else on my mind to spare it much thought.

  “Hi, that’s good timing. It’s just about ready.”

  I opened a bottle of Chablis and poured us both a glass. Only when we’d finished eating and cleared away did I answer some of the questions she’d been peppering me with throughout the meal.

  “Ramsay wasn’t quite honest with us,” I said, having no intention of being completely honest with Kara either. She didn’t need to know she’d been the catalyst that had forced her sister to attend the initial meeting with Angela Smith. She didn’t need to know about her father and Brett either. “It was specifically Jasmine he was told to point in the direction of Angela Smith.”

  “Oh, I see.” Kara took this latest revelation more calmly than I’d anticipated. “Actually, I don’t see at all.” She rubbed her forehead as though she’d suddenly developed a headache. “I don’t understand why this woman didn’t just ring Jas at home. Why all the subterfuge?”

  “I don’t get it either.” But I had a good idea. Jasmine didn’t want to buy whatever these people were selling but they wanted her badly enough to apply pressure. “I guess we’ll just have to ask her when we find her.”

  “Who, Angela Smith?”

  “No, idiot, your sister.”

  “So you still want to go through with this?”

  “I don’t see that I have any choice.”

  “There are always choices in life, Charlie.”

  “I’ll back off if you will,” I said, using her own words against her.

  “That’s not fair!”

  I winked at her. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”

  I picked up my mobile and dialled Joe’s number. “You can report back on a successful mission,” I said without introducing myself. “I’ve got better things to do with Kara than go looking for sisters who don’t want to be found so I’m taking her to Cowes tomorrow instead.”

  I cut the connection before Joe could respond.

  “Cowes?” Kara frowned. “Why would we want to go to Cowes?”

  “We don’t, but seeing as how your sister’s keepers have eyes everywhere we can hardly turn up in Weymouth in the No Comment. My bet is they’ve been watching us all along and will know where we’re headed before we get beyond Portsmouth.”

  “Yes, but I still don’t see—”

  “These people are rattled by our questions. They’ll know Joe and I spoke this afternoon and, although he says they never check back with him, I’m betting they’ll do so on this occasion.”

  “Yes, that’s possible, but how will being in Cowes make things any easier than being here? Presumably they can watch us just as easily there.”

  “Sure.”

  “And what did you mean when you said you have better things to do with me than going to Weymouth?”

  “Well.” I permitted myself a rare smile. “Joe seems to think you and I are an item. It wouldn’t do any harm to perpetrate that myth, just to put them off the scent.” I let out an overdramatic sigh. “Do you think you could bring yourself to indulge in a spot of playacting?”

  “Blimey, you don’t ask much, do you.” Her expression was martyred but she seemed to be having problems keeping her lips straight.

  “We’d only need to act in public, be seen together all lovey-dovey for a day or two, and then I think they’ll back off.”

  “Okay.” She eyed me speculatively, as though weighing up my request and trying to decide if it would be worth it. “Sacrifices must be made for Jas’s sake, I suppose. But there’s still the question of getting to Weymouth.”

  “Well, that’s why we’re going to Cowes. I know someone there who just might be persuaded to lend me another boat.”

  Anton only told Nadia what she’d been expecting to hear but the pain, the brutal reality of her husband’s actions, still made her dizzy with regret.

  “Are you all right, Nadia?” Anton reached across the table and took her hand. “You look very pale. Here, take a sip of water.”

  She drained the glass he handed her. “Yes, thank you, I’m hanging in there. But I’ll be a whole lot better if you tell me what happened. The truth can’t be any worse than the thoughts that keep running through my head.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know very much. I make it my business to mind my own business.”

  “Then tell me what you do know.”

  “Well, after you saw your brother that time, I think he must have started asking questions about you.”

  “He wouldn’t have gotten very far. He didn’t know what name I use now, or where I live, or anything that would help him.”

  “No, but he had that picture I foolishly took of the two of you. Mr. Kalashov has spies everywhere, and word would have got back to him.”

  Nadia frowned. “In that case he must have wondered how that picture came to be taken in the first place. Did he ask you about it?” Anton shook his head. “Good, I’m glad it didn’t get you into trouble. But he didn’t mention it to me either. That’s strange, don’t you think?”

  “Once your husband knew your brother was looking for you, he would have been on the alert for any sign of him in Weymouth.”

  “Perhaps, but to kill him, I can’t imagine—”

  “If it helps, I don’t think the intention was ever to kill him, just to frighten him off. But Mr. Kalashov was out of town when Brett came back.” Anton’s expression clouded. “So Viktor dealt with the situation his way.”

  “Ah, so that’s what they were arguing about.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” Nadia’s hand was still in Anton’s. It felt good there and she made no attempt to remove it. “Anton, what has my sister to do with all this?”

  “Nothing.” He released her hand. “I’ve told you what you wanted to know. We should get back now.”

  “In a minute.” She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking hard. “Anton, I heard my husband, his daughter and Viktor arguing. Something about Kara. I have to know.”

  Anton moved his face to within an inch of hers and stared into her eyes. “Your husband is a dangerous man when crossed, and I’ve already said too much. Just leave it.”

  “But he would never hurt me.”

  “Perhaps not, but he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me if he thought I was being disloyal.”

  Chapter Ten

  Kara hadn’t wangled her way on board under false pretences. She could indeed cook and, not accustomed to such fine cuisine in my bachelor existence, I appreciated her efforts. Perhaps that’s why I found it easier to force the events of the day to the back of my mind than I’d thought would be the case. She was an easy person to relax around, keeping the conversation flowing whenever I became distracted. I could see that putting her lonely hearts at ease would come naturally to her.

  I invited her to join me when I took Gil for his late-night run. As a rule it was my thinking time and I didn’t usually crave company, but somehow it seemed like the natural thing to do. Besides, I rather enjoyed being seen with her. As we strolled along the walkway full of people spilling out of the restaurants and bars to enjoy the mild summer evening, she certainly made heads turn. Something else I liked about her was that she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence between us with banal chatter. Unlike most women, she knew when to keep her mouth shut and only spoke when she had something to say.

  As we walked past a particular bar, “Jungle Line” was belting out of the speakers.

  “Herbie Hancock’s arrangement,” I said.

  “Come again.�
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  I stopped walking and stared at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Herbie.”

  “Sorry. Should I have?”

  “Philistine!”

  “Guilty as charged,” she said, and I sensed a smile in her voice. “So who is this Herbie character and why should I have heard of him?”

  “Only one of the greatest jazz pianists of recent times, that’s all.”

  “Ah well, that explains it then. I don’t know anything about jazz.”

  “‘Jungle Line’ was a Joni Mitchell song.” I looked down at her, horrified. “Please tell me you’ve heard of Joni.”

  “Of course, even if she was before my time. Something about putting up a parking lot, wasn’t it?”

  I didn’t dignify that with a reply. “Herbie was fascinated by Joni’s songs,” I told her. “He dissected the lyrics of some of her most famous ones and did new arrangements to express the emotions behind them. But he still managed to stay true to the original melodies. Many consider the album River to be a masterpiece.”

  “You included, it would seem,” she said. “You obviously like jazz.”

  “I like good jazz, which rules out a lot of it.”

  “How did you get hooked?”

  “My mother was a musician.”

  “Was? Is she dead?”

  “Yes.”

  I whistled to Gil and turned back towards the boat, belatedly regretting that I’d invited her to join me. How had our conversation veered in this direction? I didn’t talk about my mother to anyone.

  But either Kara didn’t notice my reticence or she was thicker-skinned than I’d realized.

  “How did she die?”

  I pretended not to hear the question and made more of a thing out of unlocking the boat than was necessary.

  “Sorry,” she said when I failed to respond. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  I lifted my shoulders like it was no big deal, even though it was.

  “Do you play an instrument yourself?” She lifted one of my hands and examined my long fingers.