The Killer

by Susan Wilkins

  The DCI looked at Raheem. ‘Your turf, Amy. What do you think?’

  The dark eyes surveyed the room and then settled on Rivlin. ‘If the DI’s intel suggests we should go mob-handed, it’s obviously his call. I can request TSG support.’

  Rivlin had a sinking feeling. Stoneham must be really pissed if she was prepared to use some hotshot from the Met to give him a public spanking. It felt unjust, but he knew he had to suck it up.

  Raheem’s attention switched back to Stoneham. ‘I’d be inclined to look the place over first, ma’am. We may be able to glean the intelligence we need from a straightforward conversation. But if Mrs Mabey doesn’t want to cooperate, we can always waterboard her later.’

  It took several seconds for the joke to register. Smiles and sniggers rolled round the table and Rivlin’s humiliation was complete. He managed a rictus grin and a shrug. But the tension in the room was broken.

  Stoneham chuckled. ‘Okay, Amy will inform the Met that we’re on the plot and may need backup. But let’s talk to Mrs Mabey first. Take a search warrant. If she’s basically legit, that should be enough to make her pliable. If she isn’t, then we’ll know.’ The DCI’s gaze skated past Rivlin to another DI. ‘Mark, you organize.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  As the meeting broke up, Rivlin reflected that it could’ve been worse. It was his initiative but he’d been cut out of the loop. He gathered up his papers with one eye on Raheem, who was having words with the deputy SIO. He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for her joke or to resent it. She’d been canny enough to read the DCI’s tetchy mood and roll with it. That was usually his trick. She was attractive but had ball-breaker written all over her; he resolved to give her a wide berth.

  As he wandered down the corridor, trying not to feel too sorry for himself, a voice assailed him.

  ‘Tom, a word!’

  It was Stoneham, collecting a coffee from the hot drinks machine. She beckoned him. As he approached he noticed the coffee was black. If she was on another diet that could also explain why he’d got it in the neck.

  She started to walk and he fell into step beside her. ‘Good work for tracking down the funeral director so quickly.’ He had to admire her technique; she’d made her point, she was moving on. It was seamless.

  ‘Thanks, boss.’

  ‘You made a judgement at the hospital and I accepted it. Turns out we were both wrong.’

  ‘It was a bad call. My fault. I’m sorry.’ But he was damned if he’d take the rap alone. ‘Part of the problem was Nicci Armstrong didn’t tell us the whole story.’

  ‘You’re blaming this on her?’

  ‘I’m not blaming anyone. Apparently Phelps has got history with the Kemals. This is a personal grudge. I only found that out later on Friday night when Nicci phoned me.’

  ‘Why the hell didn’t she tell us that before?’

  ‘She was protecting Phelps, didn’t want her licence to be revoked.’ Even as he said it he felt like a snitch. If he’d thought there would be some pleasure in getting one up on the sainted Nicci, he was wrong.

  Stoneham stopped and sipped her coffee. Then she shook her head wearily. ‘This is a mess. We have to find Phelps before the Kemals do.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What about Glynis Phelps?’

  ‘I had her place checked on Saturday. We tracked down the sister too – lives in Southend – nothing.’

  The DCI stared into the middle distance, planning her next move. Any anger with him had passed; he didn’t want to feel relieved, but he did. Punishment and forgiveness; it took him back to childhood.

  She fixed him with a quizzical frown. ‘And you’ve got a security guard at the hospital who ID’d Sadik Kemal?’

  ‘Yeah, but I wouldn’t want to stand him up in court.’

  ‘Still, it’s grounds enough for us to go and kick Sadik’s door down and see what we can find. Raheem can talk to her bosses.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you did that yourself?’

  Stoneham smiled. ‘I’m playing the game, Tom. You know what the Met’s like, they won’t give you anything until they know what’s in it for them.’

  ‘I don’t want to be partisan, but we should be the ones who nail the Kemals.’

  ‘And we will. A gangster with a grudge ceases to be a businessman. He starts to make mistakes. He’s after Phelps – that’s our opportunity. So you know what your priority is?’

  ‘Yeah. Find Karen Phelps. Get her testimony.’

  ‘And soon.’

  36

  She’d never been one for lying in bed, even when she was really ill. By midday on Saturday Kaz’d kicked off the duvet and was prowling the room. Rafaella provided her with underwear, soft bedsocks, trackie bottoms and a sweatshirt, and invited her to join them downstairs for lunch.

  The farmhouse kitchen was spacious and sunny; they’d eaten at the long wooden table, then Kaz had been co-opted as Lacey’s new playmate. Kaz could draw and the little girl found that thrilling. She demanded a horse and Kaz rapidly sketched an outline that looked exactly like a horse. Lacey squealed with pleasure.

  Paul had leaned back in his chair, beaming and sharing his daughter’s delight. ‘Blimey, I never knew you could do all this.’

  ‘There’s a lot about me you don’t know.’

  The afternoon had been spent creating a menagerie of animals with Kaz encouraging Lacey to make her own drawings. By six o’clock they’d both run out of energy. Rafaella took the little girl upstairs for her bath and Kaz fell asleep on the sofa.

  She knew that sleep was her healer and, having found a safe place, she needed to rest. There were questions, too many questions, but they would have to wait. Back in her room she’d slept from early Saturday evening to late on Sunday morning. When she finally woke, the soreness in her lungs caused by smoke inhalation had subsided; she was left with a phlegmy cough, which felt like the aftermath of a chest cold.

  Brunch was served, again at the large kitchen table. Rafaella smiled a lot and said very little. Kaz had become used to the unobtrusive presence of Paul’s wife. How much did she know about his past? It was impossible to tell. All Kaz got from her was kindness and solicitous attention to her every need; this left Kaz with a vaguely guilty feeling.

  In the afternoon the two women basked on the terrace in a brief burst of late September sun while Paul played football on the lawn with his daughter. Watching him with Lacey was a pleasure. Kaz’s memories of him were of a strutting boy; both she and Joey had been mesmerized. She could still recall the first time he took her for a spin on his silver Kawasaki Ninja. She was probably only fifteen. It was at night and they did a ton on the M25. Joey had been so jealous.

  Back then it would have been impossible to imagine Paul playing with a child. He was tough, streetwise, a dealer and, to a teenage girl, impossibly cool. But in truth that boy was a distant echo, part of her confused and painful adolescence. Kaz hadn’t really thought about him for years. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The what-ifs crowded her mind. What if the old man hadn’t intervened?

  Terry’s incestuous interest in his daughter had made him ultra possessive. No one looked twice at Kaz Phelps, not if they valued their own skin. But Paul had dared. What if he hadn’t gone to jail? She had certainly loved him back then with all the intense passion of teenage romance. Could she have ever turned into Rafaella? Could she have been the wife and mother, the mistress of this beautiful house, living a safe, carefree existence with a man to take care of her?

  On Monday morning Rafaella took Lacey to nursery. Kaz watched from the kitchen window as she carefully strapped the little girl into her car seat. The BMW X3 turned out of the driveway and disappeared down the country lane. Paul closed the five-bar gate behind it and gave Kaz a wave as he strolled back towards the house. It was the first time they’d been left alone together.

  Kaz was loading the breakfast plates and cutlery into the dishwasher when he returned to the kitchen. Just for a moment she toy
ed with the fantasy that this was her house and her husband.

  ‘Hey, you don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.’

  Forced to let the dream dissolve, Kaz smiled. ‘You’ve both been so kind. Least I can do is help out.’

  He picked up the kettle and filled it at the sink. ‘How about I make us a fresh coffee and we can talk some business. Rafa goes to the gym after she drops Lacey off. So we got all morning.’

  Kaz wasn’t sure what kind of proposition she’d been expecting or even hoping for from Paul – but talking business? Part of her was disappointed.

  He made a cafetière of coffee, placed it on a tray with ceramic mugs and a jug of milk and invited her to join him in his den. Situated at the back of the house, with French doors on to the garden, part study, part chill-out space, it was a very masculine room.

  She settled herself in one corner of the leather sofa and watched him pour the coffee. Refusing milk, she took the steaming mug and waited.

  He seemed restless, opening the French doors, adjusting the blinds. Was he nervous? He gave that impression. He was a married man but they were alone now. Did he still have feelings for her?

  Pulling the swivel chair out from behind the glass desk, he finally sat down. ‘Rafa’s great. She’s a brilliant wife and mother. But I don’t involve her in the business. She’s a Spaniard, grew up in a sleepy little town where her dad was the baker. She don’t understand the life I’ve led or our kind of background.’

  ‘Does she know you’ve been in prison?’

  ‘Oh yeah. I haven’t lied to her. And she’s known for years that I was once involved with Joey’s sister.’

  He said this in such a matter-of-fact way, referring to Joey’s sister as if she were another person, a stranger who existed only in the past. Even so, Kaz found herself wanting to reach out and touch him, to see what it would feel like after all these years. Instead she folded her fingers round her mug of coffee.

  ‘Don’t she mind me being here?’

  ‘Not at all.’ He met her eye. Maybe he did still want her, but his gaze didn’t show it. ‘Look, Joey filled me in. When I visited him in the nick.’

  ‘Filled you in about what?’

  ‘Told me that nowadays you’re batting for the other side. I got no problem with that. Makes things easier, really.’

  Kaz gave him a wry smile. So he knew. And part of her was glad. It provided a safety net for both of them. All the same, somewhere inside she felt a stab of regret. ‘It wasn’t a particularly conscious choice. I fell madly in love with a woman.’

  ‘The important thing is, did she love you back?’

  ‘Maybe. For a while. But she’s dead.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, babes. That’s tough.’

  ‘She was murdered. By the rich Russian that Joey tried to kill.’

  Paul took a moment to absorb this; he gave a low whistle. ‘Fuck me! So that’s what it was all about.’

  Kaz found herself struggling to hold back the tears. Helen Warner was always there, a gentle presence in the deep recesses of her mind. It was the one thing she had that consoled her. Her teenage passion for Paul had been all-consuming at the time, and then as now he’d been her rescuer. But those feelings couldn’t compare to the desire and craving she’d felt for Helen. The idea of herself in Rafaella’s shoes was a comforting daydream, but that’s not who she was; she’d always be an outsider and she knew it.

  Realizing that Paul was watching her, she brushed the back of her hand across her face. ‘Take no notice. It all gets to me from time to time.’

  ‘Understandable, mate.’ He frowned with concern but he was twisting the signet ring on his little finger. She could sense his impatience; he’d never been any good at the emotional stuff. He had his own agenda and he was just waiting.

  She took a slug of coffee and put on a serious face. ‘You wanted to talk business.’

  He opened his palms and leant forward in his chair. He had the look of a salesman, glad to finally make his pitch. ‘I’d never have all this if it weren’t for Joey. And I want to do right by him. But he was a difficult bloke to work with at times, you know that.’

  Kaz could feel the tension in him and, if it wasn’t about his feelings for an old flame, she began to wonder what else he was trying to hide. Wariness was her default setting. People always disappointed you – that was her experience – especially the ones you trusted. She decided to sit back and see what happened.

  ‘As you know, I was running things out in Ibiza when Joey got nicked. It was a tight operation, people on holiday want party drugs and we was making a mint.’

  ‘You’d said before the two of you had fallen out.’

  ‘Nah, not completely.’ His eyes slid off to one side; he couldn’t hold her gaze. ‘We had a bit of a disagreement, that’s all. He was one clever fucker, your little brother. The Internet, what it meant for business – he understood all that. A market without rules, that’s what he called it. Buy what you like, sell what you like. Particularly drugs. And no old bill breathing down your neck.’

  ‘Pity he didn’t stick to business; he’d never have landed in jail.’

  ‘That’s what I told him. But Joey had a taste for the rough stuff. Liked to get his hands dirty. It gave him a buzz like nothing else. I seen it and I knew in the end that’d get us in trouble.’

  Kaz found herself wondering what he wasn’t telling her. A bit of a disagreement, or was it much more than that? It would certainly explain why Joey had never spoken to her about any partnership with Paul. She continued to smile. ‘I wish I’d known you was involved. We could’ve joined forces.’

  ‘Maybe it ain’t too late for that.’ He met her gaze, but there was the nervousness again.

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘I used to watch him. He’d get out his laptop and show me how he’d squirrel it all away. We made a shitload out of the drugs. I lost track. But that was the tip of the iceberg. You can do all sorts on the Net. I always remember, years ago, your old man saying, “No one robs banks any more, too fucking hard.” Thanks to the Net, now it’s too fucking easy.’

  Kaz scanned his face. Why on earth would an apparently successful man like him want to join forces with her?

  ‘It’s a generous offer, Paul. But if you’re into all that you don’t need me.’

  He frowned. ‘There’s millions out there. Carefully stashed away. Joey meant for you and your sister to have it. He told me as much. That’s what I was gonna tell you at the funeral.’ Now they were getting to the nub of it.

  ‘Yeah, but where?’

  ‘Offshore accounts. British Virgin Islands, probably. “Give it to the Virgins to look after,” that was his joke. He set up a network of companies, untraceable.’

  Kaz laughed. ‘You think if I could get my hands on Joey’s money I’d be sitting round in this country, waiting for every scumbag with a beef to have a pop at me?’

  ‘Joey was a meticulous planner, he always had a back door.’

  ‘If he had, he never told me about it.’

  ‘Thing is, babes, he probably did. He would’ve made sure you had the information to access it somehow.’

  ‘Maybe he told Natalie.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ve popped round to see her a couple of times. Y’know, make sure she’s all right. But she’s a bit flaky, your sister. Too many drugs over the years. Joe’s much more likely to have left the information somewhere for you. You just haven’t found it yet.’

  ‘I don’t even know what I’d be looking for.’

  ‘That’s why I think we should join forces. I reckon if we work together, we can figure it out.’

  He was looking at her earnestly, hopefully. She was in his lovely home, he’d saved her from the Kemals, supposedly made sure Darius was at the hospital to keep an eye on her. But it was all beginning to make sense. Paul had worked with or for her brother. They’d fallen out. Paul probably felt he’d been shafted and, knowing Joey, that could well be true. What Paul wante
d now was to get his hands on Joey’s money – and he planned to use Kaz in order to do it.

  He was as full of charm as he’d ever been, but she was being set up. And she’d nearly fallen for it.

  Still she managed to smile serenely. ‘Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it.’

  37

  Eddie Lunt, armed with a large bouquet of flowers, wandered round the hospital. Nicci had phoned him. She was tied up with this stupid security job but she was fretting about Karen Phelps, so she’d dispatched Eddie to see what he could find out.

  Working for an ex-cop was no bother to Eddie. He’d found over the years that most of them were amenable. A couple of pints or a free lunch usually got you the information you wanted. Then he encountered Nicci Armstrong and the former DS had taken against him from the off. It didn’t seem to matter to her that he’d served his time; he was a criminal and that stuck in her craw. As far as he was concerned he’d only been doing his job. Phone hacking had been an accepted practice in the newspaper business for years, everyone knew about it. But when the shit hit the fan the bosses got away with it and blokes like him took the fall. It was the way of the world; he felt no resentment.

  He started with the ward where he and Nicci had visited Karen. Posing as a visitor, he got short shrift from the shrewish sister, who informed him Phelps had been discharged and any queries about her whereabouts should be addressed to the police.

  Meandering around for a bit, he waited for a shift change and trailed two student nurses and a nursing assistant to the canteen. Pretending to peruse the menu board, he watched the three young women. They were lively, gossipy girls, teasing each other as they queued for the salad bar. He opted for shepherd’s pie, paid for his food and selected a table next to the young nurses.

  Unfurling his cutlery from its napkin he tuned in: their discussion was about boyfriends and their myriad failings.

  ‘He’s lying, it’s obvious.’ The first girl had a confident manner, the self-appointed leader of the trio.

  ‘Yeah, but if I say that to him he’ll dump me.’ The second girl looked hardly eighteen to Eddie, beautiful and anxious to please. Her two mates obviously considered her naive.