What could possibly go wrong?
Crow was sitting at a window seat nursing a coffee when I pulled into the carpark. I didn’t get out for a moment, scanning the outside for an accomplice, just in case, but there was no flash of colour giving anyone away. The carpark and its surroundings were dark, apart from the glow of the street lights.
The restaurant itself had four employees behind the counter and three customers in the dining area. Two of them were sitting at the same table; she was crying, he looked uncomfortable. The third person was Crow. Unless he was in cahoots with the young couple, then I guessed I was probably safe enough. For now, at least.
I ordered my own coffee and slid into the seat opposite.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You won’t regret it.’
Yeah... I’ll be the judge of that.
‘Well?’ I asked when the silence stretched out.
‘I’m not sure where to start.’
I cocked my head, brows raised, and he took the hint.
‘I’ll tell you everything,’ he said, ‘both for your own safety and because I need your help.’ He sipped his coffee, his fingers curled around the carton and he lowered his gaze, staring into it as though it held all the answers.
‘My name is James Robinson. Robin? Crow?’
When I nodded my understanding, he carried on. ‘I was in the military for twenty years. Got out a couple of months ago. I’d done my bit, I wanted a change, maybe settle down, yeah? Wife, couple of kids, house, dog. A home.’
He sighed. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the skin tanned under the fluorescent lights, and the few small hairs I could see were dark. The jacket he wore fitted him well, despite the breadth of his shoulders. Military could explain the red. It might also explain his physique and air of confidence – not that I’d had much to do with soldierly types. Or any other type, come to think of it.
‘It took me a couple of weeks to realise something was up with my sister,’ he said.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Meadow.’
‘Pretty.’
‘I suppose.’
I could see he was finding it difficult to talk about her. If he hadn’t already told me Rochdale had her, I might have jumped to the conclusion that Meadow had some kind of illness and Crow had only just found out.
‘What was wrong with her?’ I asked.
‘She was different, acting weird. She’d packed her job in, wouldn’t talk to me, was distant, sort of shutting me out.’ He grimaced. ‘We’d always been close, even though I was away such a lot. I’d call her whenever I could, and bunk down at her place when I was on leave. We are the only family we’ve got. Our parents died when we were young. Our maternal grandmother took us in, but she passed away a year or so ago. There’s only the two of us left.’
‘I’m sorry.’ That might explain some of the deeper colours in his aura.
‘Thanks. Anyway, as I said, it took me a couple of weeks after I’d come back home, to realise Meadow wasn’t her usual self. I thought it was because I was out for good and she was finding it hard to adjust. It wasn’t as if I was only home for a couple of days, a week tops, then sodding off back to Syria or The Congo, or wherever else the government decided to poke their noses into. I was a permanent fixture now, and I thought maybe she’d got used to being on her own, and she resented me being around so much. So, I found a place to rent, to get out from under her feet and give her some space, but things didn’t improve.’ He shrugged. ‘I knew she had a boyfriend, although she didn’t talk about him much. Not at all, actually, but there was definitely someone on the scene. When I’d stayed with her, she used to jump when the phone rang, was often out all night, doing God knows what, then she’d sleep all day. No wonder she didn’t work – she was too damn tired.’
He’d put his coffee carton to one side a while ago, and was now intent on shredding paper napkins. ‘That wasn’t all,’ he continued. ‘She hardly ate, not that I saw anyway. She was thin and pale, and really listless. She looked as if she might be ill or on drugs. I wasn’t sure which.’ He hesitated. ‘Then one night I saw this boyfriend of hers.’ He raised his head for the first time since he’d started talking and gave a small, rueful smile. ‘Yeah, I guess you could say I stalked her. I had to – she didn’t pick up my calls, answer my texts, she was never in, or if she was, she pretended she wasn’t. I was worried about her. So, I staked out her house and when she came out, I followed her.’ He smiled again. ‘Night vision goggles don’t half come in handy.’
‘And?’
‘And she met him, Rochdale. Night after night, she went to meet him. Sometimes they went to a club, sometimes to someone’s house. He always brought her back home, usually in the early morning, say three, four o’clock, stayed for an hour or so, then left before the sun came up. At this point, I still thought Meadow might be involved in drugs, that he was her dealer or something. He didn’t appear to have a job, although I suppose he could have worked during the day, but I don’t see how, when he was out and about all night. I need another coffee. Do you want one?’
‘A latte please, and some sugar.’ I could do with the energy boost.
I studied him as he walked up to the counter and placed his order, wondering how old he was; mid to late thirties, I guessed. He was attractive too, if you liked muscles and a chiselled jaw. His hair was dark, with the occasional strand of grey, and close-cropped, slightly longer on the top. His blue eyes had crow’s feet around them, although I suspected they hadn’t been caused so much by laughter as by sunlight, if he’d really been abroad as often as he’d hinted.
He placed the drinks on the table, and waited until I’d stirred in the sugar and had taken a sip, before he continued.
‘It wasn’t drugs. At least, I don’t think so. I suspect he gets his money by other means,’ Crow said.
‘Like what?’
‘Like persuading women to give it to him.’
‘How do you know?’
Crow looked uncomfortable. ‘I broke into my sister’s house when she was out. I didn’t want to, but I needed answers.’
‘Did you get any?’
‘Not really. But there was one thing that really concerned me – she’d put the house up for sale.’
‘So?’
‘It isn’t hers to sell. The house belongs to me.’
Chapter 19
Olivia
‘To you?’ I demanded. If that were true, it certainly put a different slant on things.
Crow nodded, his expression grim.
‘What happened next?’ I asked.
‘She disappeared. Actually, that’s not strictly true – she disappeared before I broke in, but after she’d put the house on the market. I think I should explain a little more about Meadow. She was married, years ago, to a total waster. He took her for every penny she had, and she had quite a few of them. When our parents died, they were quite well off, and then there was the insurance. Neither of us kids could touch any of it until we were twenty-one, but by then I was in the army and didn’t have much need for money, except to buy a fast car which I hardly got a chance to drive. I’m seven years older than Meadow, and when she finally got her hands on her share of the money, I was long gone, only coming home now and again.’
He looked up at the ceiling, his jaw hard, his eyes even harder.
‘By the time her arse-wipe of a husband had finished with her, Meadow had nothing left, nada, zilch. He’d sold the house from under her nose, and although it was her money that had paid for it, Meadow had put the property in joint names. He emptied their bank account, ran up huge debts, then disappeared.’
Crow took a deep breath and let it out slowly, before continuing, his eyes distant.
‘After the arse-wipe had taken her to the cleaners, I bought Meadow a house, so she had somewhere to live. Her credit rating was shit and I had money sitting in the bank, doing nothing. It seemed the sensible thing to do.’
His aura darkened and flecks of black swi
rled through it, like tar in blood.
‘For a while, I thought things were getting better,’ he continued. ‘Meadow had picked herself up and was back on an even keel. She’d got a decent job and had even mentioned the odd boyfriend or two. Nothing serious, you understand, not after the last time, but at least she was starting to live again, to enjoy life. She was happy, yeah? At least, she seemed to be. But that was before I was discharged, and maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see. For years, I hadn’t been home for that long, or for very often, so maybe she’d been putting on an act but couldn’t continue to keep it up when I came to stay with her for good.’
Crow really didn’t need to tell me all this. Just a quick warning of why I should be wary of Rochdale would have been enough, and what he hoped I could help him with, but I sensed Crow needed to get all this off his chest, that telling me was cathartic somehow. I found I didn’t mind playing the unsuspecting counsellor, although what counsel I could possibly give was beyond me. Maybe just listening to his story would do?
‘If it’s your house, why did you have to break in?’ I asked.
‘She changed the locks.’ He grimaced. ‘It got me worried, I can tell you, especially when I hadn’t seen her for a while. As I said, she was avoiding me, not taking my calls, ignoring my texts. I knew there was something drastically wrong – I just didn’t know what.’
‘And?’
‘I found her bank statements. Up until a few months ago, she’d been in the black; she’d even managed to save some. All that changed when she began taking large sums of money out. I found ticket stubs for the theatre, receipts from restaurants, from men’s clothing stores for a handmade suit, shoes, gold cufflinks, a cravat.’ He looked at me meaningfully. ‘She’d bought a watch, a bloody expensive one, a top of the range laptop which was nowhere to be seen, a new iPhone, the latest one. Then I noticed a large injection of cash into her account, and at first I thought Rochdale must have paid her back.’
‘He hadn’t?’ I guessed what had happened but wanted to make sure.
‘She’d got a loan from the bank,’ Crow confirmed. ‘She blew through it in a matter of weeks, then she started on the credit cards. I found five of them, all maxed out, and don’t get me started on the demands. I think she was scared, and Rochdale was coercing her or had some kind of hold on her. She must have known she wouldn’t get away with trying to sell the house, and I think she put it on the market knowing I’d find out. It was a cry for help.’
He put his hands to his face and rubbed, his fingers rasping against a five o’clock shadow. When he took them away, I saw how weary he looked. Against my better judgement, I was beginning to thaw towards him. His sister was clearly attracted to a certain kind of man, one who bled her dry and, like an addict, she couldn’t help herself. Some women simply had a thing for men who were bad for them.
‘You think she gave all the money and the other stuff to Rochdale?’ I asked.
‘Who else could it be? He was the only man on the scene.’
‘Have you confronted him? Asked him where she is?’
‘I’ve not got close enough. Yet.’
The menace in his voice made me shiver.
‘He’s elusive,’ Crow continued. ‘I can’t track him and I can’t trace him. He’s not on any electoral roll, he doesn’t have a passport or a driving licence, no social media presence, no credit card or bank account, no birth certificate. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.’ He paused for a moment, then added, ‘It’s not that hard to become invisible, a ghost, if you know what you’re doing, but it’s harder to sustain it. Take people in witness protection, for instance, or ex-cons who’ve been given new identities. All it takes is one chance encounter, one slip, one misplaced word, and that new identity can be blown wide open.’
‘Is that what you think happened with Rochdale? Do you think he’s an ex-con, or something?’
Crow shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Though the “con” part refers more to confidence trickster, than convict, in my opinion.’
‘But you did find him.’ I pointed out. ‘You followed him to the Hollifield Hotel.’
He bit his lip. ‘Actually, it was you I followed.’
My mouth dropped open.
‘I don’t know why you’re so shocked,’ he said. ‘You already knew I’d been following you.’
‘Yes, but—’ I stopped. He had a point.
‘And I was right, because you led me straight to him.’
‘I did no such thing!’ I blustered. ‘I’d no idea he would be there!’
‘I’m not saying you did. But I guessed he might be and I was right.’
I pinned him with a sharp look. ‘Why?’
‘Because he’s clearly interested in you.’
‘Why?’ I repeated.
‘I don’t honestly know,’ he said, but something in his eyes made me think he did.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you everything I can, now it’s your turn.’
‘I’ve got nothing to tell.’
‘You have,’ he insisted. ‘Although you might not know it. Had you seen him before, or was that night at the opera the first time?’
I paused for a minute. Crow’s story didn’t quite add up. ‘Did you know Rochdale would be there?’ I asked.
‘No, but I took an educated guess. Meadow had a couple of opera programmes lying around. She loathed the opera, couldn’t stand it. She hated musicals, too, so I guessed she either must have gone to see them because he wanted to, or she’d bought tickets for him.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I saw every performance of that blasted thing for nearly two weeks. I know the words better than the male lead does.’ He leaned forward. ‘He fluffed his lines a couple of times.’
‘Why that one? Surely there are other performances Rochdale could have gone to?’
‘I found a newspaper at her house, open at the page the advert was on. I thought I’d give it a shot. There was nothing else for me to go on.’
‘You don’t think he had anything to do with the shootings, do you?’
Crow shook his head. ‘No, not his style. He’s not a terrorist. He’s a con man, or a cult leader.’
‘Cult?’
‘Rochdale fits the profile. Meadow appeared to be fascinated by him, as if he’d put a spell on her, or hypnotised her. She’d changed. When she was with that bastard of an ex-husband she was still Meadow, but the last few times I saw her recently, she wasn’t my sister.’
I remembered the way I’d reacted to Rochdale, the allure of him, his irresistibility, and I thought Crow’s assessment of him might be right.
‘For some reason, he caught my eye that night,’ I said, glossing over the truth a little. ‘He was standing there, in the middle of all that carnage, as still as a statue. But I don’t think it was from shock.’ I brought his image to mind, trying to analyse it. ‘He was composed, casual even, looking around him as if the dead and the dying didn’t mean anything, as if they weren’t even there. He...’ I paused. ‘I didn’t notice it then, but thinking back, I got the impression he was enjoying it.’ It was my turn to lean forward. ‘Are you sure he didn’t have anything to do with the shootings?’
‘As sure as I can be, given that I don’t know anything about the investigation.’ He shuffled in his seat, stretching his long legs out under the table. ‘I saw him too, but Meadow wasn’t with him. He was staring at you though, both inside and outside the theatre.’
He was? I hadn’t spotted Rochdale outside, although I’d sort of been looking for him. I think I’d wanted to confirm he really didn’t have an aura and that I hadn’t been imagining it.
‘I don’t like to worry you,’ Crow continued, ‘but he was staring at you as if he wanted to eat you up and spit out your bones.’
‘Great. And to think I was alone with him tonight.’
‘Yeah, about that...?’
I flushed, heat spreading across my cheeks. ‘He’s uh... charismatic, as you said. Anyway,’ I carried on, anxious to lead the conversation away from
my scandalous behaviour. ‘Didn’t you challenge him? Speak to him, at least?’
‘I intended to, but by the time I’d got to him he’d vanished.’
‘He seems to be quite good at that.’
‘He does, doesn’t he?’
Crow and I stared at each other for a few moments. I looked away first. ‘How did you find me? You weren’t following me when I drove home – I would have noticed.’
‘You wouldn’t have,’ he said, confidently. ‘But you’re right. I didn’t follow you, not in the sense of tailing you. I put a tracker on your car.’
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘You can damn well take it off again,’ I demanded.
‘Okay,’ he agreed, but I had a feeling he was saying it just to shut me up. ‘Have you had any contact with Rochdale between that night and this one?’ he asked as I glared at him.
‘No.’
‘I saw you talking to him earlier, then you went into the trees with him. Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘He held out his hand, and I took it, and...’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What did he say to you? Did he ask you for money? No, scratch that, he wouldn’t be so obvious.’
‘You sound as though you know him.’
‘I know his type. He preys on the weak, the vulnerable, the ones who won’t fight back.’
‘Thanks a bunch.’ My indignation was fast but fleeting, as I considered what Crow had said. ‘I don’t think that’s entirely true,’ I continued. ‘I’m not weak, or vulnerable, and I most definitely will fight back if I have to. No, it’s something else. He’s got this way about him. I think you might have hit the nail on the head when you said he could be a cult leader. He’s certainly highly charismatic, as you suggested, but I also think he’s really, really good at manipulation.’
I recalled the way he’d held out his hand, the depths in his eyes, urging me to take it, to go with him. ‘He thinks he’s Derren Brown,’ I announced.
The Colour of Death Page 10