The Killer

by Susan Wilkins

  She painted on a smile. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Thank you. Mr Karim recommended you. He said he’d found you very reliable.’

  Who was Mr Karim? Nicci had no clue. But then she’d never worked in the security side of the business before.

  ‘Mr Karim is extremely generous.’ Nicci hoped she sounded convincing.

  But the young Qatari simply laughed. ‘Karim, generous? That’s a novel idea.’

  19

  Getting out of his car DI Tom Rivlin gazed at the water-doused wreck that had been the Phelps home. It looked eerie and forbidding even in the morning sunshine. The trees surrounding it had been reduced to stark carbonized stumps. Black ossified chips were all that was left of the thick ivy, which had covered the perimeter wall. The area had been cordoned off with red-and-white Fire and Rescue Service barrier tape. Rivlin showed his warrant card to the uniformed police officer standing outside the gate.

  The fire investigators in forensic suits were already on site. They were carefully scanning the area where the front door had been with a portable hydrocarbon detector. Rivlin had seen these electronic sniffers used before and knew their usefulness.

  Holding out his ID he approached the fire officer in charge. ‘Morning. Tom Rivlin.’

  ‘Ken Jones.’ They shook hands. Jones was taking a break outside the cordon. His hood was pushed back and he was cradling a takeaway coffee that someone had fetched him. He looked weary. Rivlin guessed he’d been there most of the night.

  The firefighter shook his head. ‘This was a right stubborn bastard. We thought at one point it might take the neighbouring properties with it.’

  ‘I gather you got the occupants out.’

  ‘Yeah. Two women. They were very lucky. It was after midnight. The mother managed to open her window and shout for help. Fortunately, one of the neighbours was walking his dog. So we got here pretty quick. But getting it under control was another matter. Two gas canisters on the back patio exploded.’

  ‘Like the ones you’d use on a barbeque?’

  ‘Well, you might. Or they could’ve been placed deliberately. Whole thing looked wrong from the outset. That’s why I’m still here. I should’ve gone off shift, but I want to know what started this bastard.’

  ‘You think it was arson?’

  ‘You hear that clicking?’ Jones pointed to the fire investigator, who was meticulously scoping what was left of a charred doorframe with a probe. The probe was connected to the detector, which was emitting a rapid staccato click. ‘The sniffer’s picking up accelerant vapours all round the front door. Faster the click, the higher the level.’

  ‘What do you think the accelerant was? Petrol?’

  ‘That would be my guess. We’re going to have to get samples to the lab and tested before we can say anything for certain though.’

  ‘But we’re probably looking at arson?’

  ‘On a provisional assessment, yes.’

  Rivlin held out his hand to shake. ‘Thanks, Ken. I need to let my team know.’

  The firefighter gave him a curt nod. ‘Whoever did this, they’re evil sods. Could’ve been very nasty.’

  ‘There’ll probably be quite a lot of press interest. So we’ll send some more officers to secure the site.’

  He didn’t need to say more. Jones’s professionalism was written all over him. ‘I’ll tell my lads to keep their mouths shut.’

  Rivlin smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  As he picked his way around the black puddles of sludge it was hard not to feel excited. Only two days after the shooting and the Phelps’s house gets torched? It had to be connected. The case was opening up. Someone had got impatient and for any criminal that was usually a fatal mistake.

  20

  In the two years since they last met, Kaz had made several attempts to keep in touch with her sister but once she’d been accepted onto the witness protection scheme she’d effectively lost contact with her family. She’d spent more than a few sleepless nights worrying about Natalie because, despite several expensive bouts of rehab, her baby sister had been a serious junkie.

  However, the girl before her now looked bright-eyed and clear-skinned. The listless waif Kaz remembered had morphed into a young mother, rather tense but alert, eyes never straying far from her child. Finlay was an inquisitive and energetic toddler. He was into everything, rushing headlong in any direction; he had no fear. So to distract him Glynis took him off on a small investigative tour of the ward.

  Left alone, the sisters faced one another awkwardly – Natalie nervous and shy, Kaz still teary-eyed. ‘It’s so good to see you, Nat.’

  ‘Yeah, good to see you too.’ Natalie stepped forward and managed a clumsy hug. ‘You all right? Don’t wanna hurt you.’

  ‘Nah, it’s fine. Skin’s a bit sore in places, but I think I was lucky. The worse thing was the smoke.’

  ‘I’d’ve been bricking it.’

  Kaz chuckled. ‘You think I wasn’t?’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when Glynis phoned me this morning. How did it happen? Some kind of accident?’ She sounded hopeful.

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘What the fuck’s going on, Kaz?’ Natalie frowned and shook her head. ‘At the funeral, now this. Is it ’cause of Joey?’

  ‘Yeah, but, nuts as it sounds, he was only trying to help me.’

  ‘You know who’s behind it then?’

  ‘Maybe. But don’t worry, they ain’t after the family. Only me.’

  ‘What you gonna do?’

  ‘I’ve no fucking idea.’

  ‘Can’t the police protect you?’

  ‘You’re joking! All they want is to revoke my licence and send me back to jail.’

  Kaz drew a tissue from the box on the bedside locker and carefully wiped her face. Her sister had turned up, which was something. But the gulf between them felt enormous. She forced a smile. ‘Well, Finlay’s certainly a surprise. I never even knew you was pregnant.’

  ‘I didn’t realize myself ’til quite late on. Took ages for me to show.’

  ‘Who’s the dad? Not Jez, surely?’

  At the mention of her murdered boyfriend Natalie flinched.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to . . .’ Reaching out impulsively, Kaz brushed her sister’s arm and felt her stiffen. It was hardly surprising. Without the drugs deadening her mind Natalie would’ve had plenty of time to reflect on what had happened to Jez. She knew it was Joey who’d killed him, chucked him off a balcony like a bag of garbage. Did she hold her sister responsible too? Kaz wasn’t sure. An aura of resentment pulsed around Natalie but she wasn’t giving anything away.

  ‘No, Jez ain’t the dad. Just as well really.’

  ‘I know I should’ve stopped him, Nat.’

  ‘How was you gonna do that?’ Her chin quivered and she clenched her jaw. ‘No one could control Joey. Not even you.’

  They stood for a moment in silence and it struck Kaz that the woman facing her was a complete stranger. Their shared childhood, the family bond, was irrelevant.

  Natalie folded her arms defensively. ‘It was a casual thing. Someone I met when I was in rehab. I never wanted him involved.’

  There was finality in her tone. She wasn’t about to say more. Whoever Finlay’s father was, he was summarily dismissed.

  Kaz shrugged. ‘You’ve managed this all on your own then. What about Mum? Didn’t she help?’

  ‘Sort of, but you know what she’s like. I was at home for a bit. But listening to her crap, day in day out, her and Brian, nearly drove me round the bend. So I called Doctor Iqbal.’

  ‘The bloke that ran the rehab place – Wood something?’

  ‘Woodcote Hall. Yeah.’ For a moment her expression turned wistful. ‘He sorted it all out for me. I went to this really nice place up in the Lake District. It was a special clinic for if you was a drug addict and got pregnant. That’s where Finlay was born. We stayed up there for about another nine months. It was great. I learnt how to look after him properly. I had a lot of support.
Then I got in touch with Glynis and she helped me find a place in Southend.’

  As Kaz scanned her sister’s face she could see that having a baby was maybe the best thing that could’ve happened to her. ‘And you’ve stayed clean?’

  ‘Yeah. I go to NA, which helps. And I know that what I’m doing every day is for him. I didn’t want it to be like when we were kids. That’s why I stayed up north for so long. I wanted to be sure I was strong enough. I didn’t want to be tempted.’

  ‘Sounds expensive though. Who paid for it? Not Mum?’

  Natalie’s gaze skated away out of the window. ‘Doctor Iqbal got some charity to pay.’

  Kaz sighed. ‘I just wish I’d known, babes. Maybe I could’ve helped.’

  Natalie continued to stare out of the window, her narrow shoulders hunched. ‘You done the right thing, Kaz. You walked away.’

  ‘It wasn’t what I wanted.’

  Natalie turned and gave her sister a wintery smile. ‘When the fuck did either of us ever get what we wanted?’

  21

  Eddie Lunt was waiting for Nicci at Billericay station. Parked up opposite the entrance, he was two bites into his lunch – a shish kebab in pitta bread – when a trickle of passengers started to appear from the London train, which had just pulled in. Eddie managed a third bite then, catching sight of Nicci clicking through the ticket barrier, he carefully wrapped the remainder of the food in its foil packet and slipped it in the glove compartment.

  Nicci walked over to the Honda Accord and opened the passenger door. She was wearing her customary scowl and made no attempt at a greeting. ‘What have you got then?’

  Eddie beamed and reflected, not for the first time, that Nicci Armstrong was a hard woman to like. ‘Fire was arson; Karen’s in Basildon Hospital – I’ve got the name of the ward; the mother’s gone to the Burns Unit at Chelmsford; cops are linking the fire to the shooting at the funeral, although they’re denying that to the press.’

  Settling into the passenger seat Nicci recollected herself. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be quite so . . .’ She forced a smile. ‘That’s a good morning’s work.’

  ‘Thank you, boss.’ He inclined his head. ‘So did we get the new security contract?’

  Nicci nodded. Her meeting with Turki bin Qassim had been polite and surprisingly straightforward. He wanted a minder for his wife, who had recently come from Qatar to the UK to join him. If she went out alone and required an escort it would usually only be during the day. Mr Qassim was perfectly happy with the rates Simon had quoted in his introductory letter and the fact that initially Nicci, a former police officer, would be doing the work herself. The agreement had been sealed with a handshake and paperwork was to follow.

  Eddie started the engine. ‘Let’s hope Simon’s grateful. He should be.’

  ‘You ever heard him mention a former colleague called Colin McCain?’

  ‘The spook?’

  Nicci shot him a ferocious glance. How the hell did he know that when she’d never even heard the name before last night?

  Eddie slipped the car into gear. ‘So where we headed? You want to look at the house first? Not much to see really. Or go to the hospital?’

  ‘The hospital. I thought McCain was in the Met. How do you know he’s a spook?’

  ‘He’s cropped up from time to time.’

  ‘What on earth does that mean?’ Nicci was trying hard not to sound impatient.

  ‘Long story short, boss: McCain was with Special Branch back in the day. Then police corruption became his speciality. That didn’t make him too many friends inside the Met. So he jumped ship to Thames House. Now he’s a back channel between the two organizations. I don’t know his official title or role. But he crops up in all sorts of interesting situations. My guess is he’s a fixer.’

  ‘What sort of fixer?’

  ‘Stuff goes pear-shaped, the wrong information gets out, he fixes it. He’s a source for a lot of people in the media. Tries to manipulate the news agenda.’

  The Honda wasn’t that new; it had a throaty diesel engine and Eddie was a cautious driver. He cruised through Billericay well within the speed limit and they headed south towards Basildon. Nicci fidgeted beside him. She was keyed up and irritated. She felt like a juggler trying to keep all the different plates spinning: Karen Phelps, the Kemals, Tom Rivlin, Simon Blake and his drunken revelations. And somewhere in the shadows behind it all, Viktor Pudovkin. Her brain was churning it all over and the more she tried to think things through, the worse she felt.

  ‘And Simon’s buddies with this McCain?’

  ‘I gather. Though he’s never spoken about it to me.’ Eddie shot her a speculative look. ‘So what’s your interest?’

  ‘Simon met him for a drink. I was wondering if it was significant.’

  ‘You could ask him.’

  ‘I doubt he’d tell me.’

  A restless night had left Nicci both weary and wired. She exhaled. ‘Do you ever wonder what the fuck you’re doing and why?’

  He chuckled. ‘Meaning of life, that sort of thing? Nah, far as I can see there is no meaning.’

  ‘Doesn’t that depress you?’

  ‘Well, that’s a choice, innit?’

  ‘A choice?’ She glanced at him. Was he taking the piss? He had an odd sense of humour. ‘How is it a choice?’

  He seemed perfectly serious. ‘Everyone decides for themselves how to look at things. Stuff happens, but it’s up to you what you make of it.’

  ‘So some moron, with dodgy brakes on his lorry, kills my little girl – ’ the bitterness and anger erupted without warning, Nicci could feel its sour sting like bile in her throat – ‘and I’m supposed to think, “Oh well, that’s life. Stuff happens. Move on.”’

  Eddie didn’t reply. He kept his eyes on the road.

  Immediately she regretted her outburst. Baring her soul to Eddie Fucking Lunt had not been her intention. It was a sure sign the stress was catching up with her.

  They travelled on in silence for several minutes. Finally, Eddie spoke. ‘Thing is, boss, whether or not you blame yourself, that’s a choice. And deciding if you can forgive yourself, that’s a choice too.’

  Nicci glared at him. He’d pissed her off since the day they first met with his criminal record as a phone hacker, not to mention his questionable attitude to breaking the law, and now he was presuming to give her advice. Well, Eddie Lunt’s trite self-help philosophy was something she could certainly do without. She shot him a malevolent look. ‘So all the scams you’ve pulled over the years, all the times you’ve broken the law, is that what you do? Just say: Oh well, never mind. I’ll forgive myself. You’re a fucking hypocrite, Eddie.’

  He inclined his head and shrugged. ‘Well, maybe so.’

  22

  Tom Rivlin checked in at the nurses’ station. He showed his warrant card and confirmed that they had Karen Phelps. The staff nurse asked him if he wouldn’t mind waiting; the consultant was doing her rounds. She pointed through to one of the bays and Rivlin caught a glimpse of Phelps with a cluster of doctors around her bed.

  He turned his attention to the staff nurse, who seemed inclined to linger. She was small and neat, lovely almond eyes, partly oriental. He’d been out with several nurses over the years and had colleagues married to nurses; somehow cops and nurses often made a good match. He wondered idly what this one would be like between the sheets. She was smiling, rather coyly, which suggested that if he asked for her number she wouldn’t refuse. But he was only filling time.

  He’d relayed to Stoneham the fire officer’s provisional assessment and now the priority was to get Karen Phelps onside. If Nicci Armstrong wasn’t prepared to help then he’d just have to manage it on his own. There was also the issue of whether or not Phelps was in danger. But he couldn’t really address that until she started talking to him.

  ‘I know the information’s probably confidential – ’ he treated the staff nurse to his best smile – ‘but what’s the story with Karen? How soon do you think
they’ll discharge her?’

  ‘We’re waiting for the results of some tests to assess her lung function. If the consultant’s happy with those and her heart’s not affected, could be as soon as tomorrow. We need the beds.’ Her tone was serious and confidential, one professional talking to another; she obviously knew about nurses and cops too.

  ‘Has she had any visitors?’

  ‘Two women, both family. One of them with a small child.’

  Those almond eyes were gazing at him expectantly, hopefully, and Rivlin had to admit he was tempted. But the timing wasn’t good. This was the biggest case to come his way since he’d been promoted to DI. He wasn’t taking any chances, which is why he wanted to make a connection with Phelps himself instead of relying on one of his team. He gave the staff nurse a wistful look. No, sadly he didn’t have time for it.

  The consultant, a rather serious-looking lady, came out of the bay, issuing instructions to one of the gaggle trotting behind her. She swept past Rivlin.

  He smiled at the staff nurse. ‘Okay if I go in now?’

  She nodded; she’d felt the frisson, seen the look in his eye, but somehow she’d blown it. He probably had a girlfriend. Unlikely a bloke like him would be single.

  Karen Phelps was sitting on the side of the bed, facing away from him and gazing out of the window. The hospital gown was gaping at the back, revealing the sweeping curve of her naked spine. Rivlin hesitated. He found her vulnerability unexpectedly moving and didn’t want her to be startled. But some kind of sixth sense alerted her and she turned abruptly to look at him.

  ‘Hello, Karen. Remember me? DI Rivlin.’ He smiled.

  ‘I was wondering when you lot’d show up.’

  ‘How you feeling?’

  ‘The fuck you care.’ She coughed. Dry and rasping, it sounded painful. ‘You still trying to revoke my licence and send me back to jail?’