The Killer

by Susan Wilkins

  Then a barely audible voice came from behind the gauze. ‘Who is it? ’Cause I ain’t got a sister-in-law.’

  There was a chair. Kaz moved it next to the bed, careful not to disturb any of the medical paraphernalia. She sat down. She wanted to take Ellie’s hand but that too was covered in gauze.

  She leant forward. ‘It’s me, Mum. It’s Kaz.’

  ‘Kaz? Oh Kaz! I was worried you didn’t get out.’

  ‘I got out. You shouted for help and they came. You saved us both.’

  ‘I been asking and asking about you, but no one knew.’ The voice was a rasping whisper, the fingers on the hand flexed. Kaz reached out and gently touched the very tips.

  ‘I’m okay, Mum.’

  Ellie seemed to drift; without the nebulizer, her breathing was laboured. ‘I been so worried about you.’

  Kaz scanned her. Machines to monitor and help keep her alive. The charge nurse had mentioned that she’d had some surgery. It was clear that her mother was extremely poorly.

  ‘You don’t have to worry no more.’

  ‘I been so worried.’

  Had she? Kaz’s default setting was to distrust everything Ellie said, and over the years she’d had good reason. But seeing her mother like this had a visceral impact and she couldn’t stop the flood of fear that rushed through her. Ellie’s pain seared her as if the raw scorched flesh were her own. Gulping down the tears, Kaz was overwhelmed by a desperate desire to save her.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m here now and I’m gonna take care of things.’

  ‘You’re a good girl.’

  That had never been Ellie’s opinion of her daughter and they both knew it. But none of that mattered now.

  ‘You need to rest and get well, ’cause me and Nat, we need you, Mum.’

  ‘I been so worried.’ The voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘Sssh. It’s gonna be okay.’

  The rigidity and tension in Ellie’s body finally ebbed and she seemed to relax. Her breathing slowed and behind the narrow slits in the gauze her eyes closed and she dozed. Kaz had no idea how to pray, so instead she sat quietly watching over her for the rest of the allotted ten minutes.

  She’d tried to walk away and put her life on a different course. But fate seemed to have other ideas for her. No one got to choose where they were born or who their parents were. The cards were dealt and you played the hand you were given.

  Joey was dead and her mother might be about to join him. But she had a sister and a new nephew. And if Ellie did recover she’d need a safe place to go and recuperate. Then there were the Kemals, the scumbags who’d done this to Ellie and who’d tried twice now to put Kaz in the ground.

  If her childhood had taught Kaz Phelps anything, it was how to survive and how to hate. These were the talents she could rely on. She’d done her level best to go straight and this was where she’d wound up: on the run from both the police and a bunch of murderous gangsters. The priority now was to protect herself and her family from any further harm. Sadly, Joey had been proved right. There were two sides and you didn’t get to swap. Not really. She wondered if her brother was looking down on her now; he’d surely be smirking. Who you were was determined by where you were born and the family you came from. Didn’t matter how far you ran. That was the truth, and in the end there was no escaping it.

  40

  Nicci spent the best part of half an hour nursing a white wine spritzer. Small, ladylike sips. She felt virtuous; for her this had to be some kind of record, but the real boost it gave her was a sense of control, something she needed more than the buzz. She’d made Rivlin wait for forty-five minutes before joining him in the Blue Lion. The pub was standing-room only, loud and chock-full of office workers. But he’d secured a quiet table at the back.

  Already a couple of pints ahead of her, the alcohol had loosened him. His brow was damp, his long fingers mobile as he spoke. ‘Thing is, Nicci, Stoneham knows you and she trusts you.’

  Was this still true? She didn’t think so, especially since the DCI had heard of her intervention on Phelps’s behalf with the probation service. But they were in a hole and she could imagine Rivlin being instructed by his boss in no uncertain terms to sort it out. That’s why he was here.

  He took a sip of Guinness and wiped his lip. ‘It goes without saying that all this is in confidence.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  Her face was serious but inside she was smirking. Having to come to her cap in hand like this must really be pissing him off, although you wouldn’t think so. He was slick and trying, albeit subtly now, to reel her in – the direct, rather seductive look in his eye, the boyish tilt of the head – and Nicci had to admit that it was tempting. She also knew she had to take care of herself. Pascale’s jibe about sleeping with him was all very well, but he’d dump her flat once she’d served her purpose, and she was determined not to end up a hostage to fortune.

  In spite of that, she couldn’t help being drawn in by his confiding manner. ‘We’ve tracked down the firm of funeral directors. East End business, quite small. Some colleagues from the Met are interviewing the woman that owns it. And I’ve also got a witness who can place Sadik Kemal at Basildon Hospital at the relevant time, so we’re going to bring him in.’

  ‘Wow! He went after Karen himself?’ This was news and Nicci didn’t conceal her excitement. ‘That was a bit reckless.’ It was more than that, it could turn out to be the breakthrough they needed.

  Rivlin simply nodded. ‘You were right. You said you thought it was a personal grudge, so it makes sense.’

  ‘Will you have enough to charge him?’

  ‘Maybe attempted kidnap. But that’s not really what we want and my guess is the CPS won’t rate the evidence. We’ll certainly hold him for the full thirty-six.’

  ‘That’ll give Karen some respite.’

  ‘On the other hand, it could wind Asil Kemal up even more. He might commission another hit.’

  Nicci pondered this. ‘Well, I haven’t managed to get in touch with her yet, but I’ve got a line on someone who may know where she is.’

  ‘Feel like sharing?’

  He’d included her, made her feel like an insider again. She admired his skill but wasn’t about to succumb that easily. He’d have to work harder than that.

  She gave him a wry smile. ‘If you think that a direct approach from the police is going to be the best way to force this contact to give her up and persuade her to cooperate?’

  He leant back in his chair and sighed. ‘Okay, you win. I think we both know the answer to that.’

  ‘And you’re going to need her to testify against Kemal on the kidnap attempt.’

  ‘If she thought he was going down, why wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Tom, she knows these people. They’ve got a long reach and even longer memories.’

  ‘We could offer to put her back on witness protection?’

  ‘She’s still going to need some persuading.’

  They sat in silence for several moments, the hubbub of the pub reverberating around them. It gave Nicci a chance to observe him. His gaze darted about, sharp as a tack, taking everything in. He was a watcher and that told her he was probably a good detective. She already knew he was smart, not to mention manipulative. But he looked weary, dark shadows under his eyes; he was under a lot of pressure. That didn’t stop her envying him. How she would love his job: a DI running the intel cell on a major investigation involving organized crime. The long hours and the stress wouldn’t bother her. She’d never truly appreciated how much she’d loved the job until they booted her out.

  Rivlin drained his glass. ‘Fancy another?’

  Nicci shook her head. ‘I should go.’

  ‘Why won’t you have dinner with me?’ His look was petulant; he didn’t like to be refused. ‘Look, I’ve worked all weekend, I’ve had a bollocking from the boss. I know you think I’m an arrogant tosser. And it’s true, I am an arrogant tosser. But I’m hungry. And I eat too many meals alone. We don’t ne
ed to talk about the fucking Kemals or Phelps or any of it. I just want to escape for a couple of hours and enjoy some agreeable company. I promise to be on my best behaviour.’

  Halfway through his diatribe, Nicci started to smile. Okay, she knew she was being played. But Pascale was right: sod the consequences, she needed to do this.

  She gave him an arch look. ‘Italian or Greek? There’s a very good Italian at the top of Essex Road not that far from where I live.’

  He met her eye and grinned. ‘Italian.’

  41

  The disguise held and Kaz Phelps left Broomfield Hospital at a quarter to eight without being recognized. She and Darius walked back to the car park in silence. As they’d left the Burns Unit he’d enquired if she was okay and she’d replied with a simple nod. But her pale, devastated face told another story.

  Getting into the taxi she finally spoke. ‘I need to go and see my sister. She lives in Southend.’

  Darius started the engine. ‘You got an address?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Kaz’s head was in a complete spin. Seeing her mother in such a state had given rise to a welter of conflicting emotions. And her sister was possibly the only person who would understand.

  Natalie had her own place, that much she knew. But where exactly? Paul Ackroyd had said he’d visited her so she could ask him. That would be the easy option, but she hesitated. He was trying to use her. She glanced at Darius. The neon glow of the car park lights strafed his face. He’d tried to distance himself but she was still pretty sure he was keeping tabs on her for Paul.

  Getting out her temporary phone – a prepaid burner that Paul’d given her – she used directory enquiries to find Glynis’s number.

  Glynis Phelps had been married to her cousin, Sean. They’d never been friends exactly, but their shared history meant they’d always be allies.

  By the time the cab left the hospital site and turned on to the main road, Glynis was on the phone.

  ‘Kaz! What’s going on? Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah. But I just seen Mum. She’s not in a good way.’

  ‘I know. Me and Natalie went over yesterday.’

  ‘She never said.’

  ‘It’s the drugs. She don’t remember much. She asked about you. But I didn’t know what to tell her. Hospital said you discharged yourself. We didn’t know where you was.’

  ‘It’s complicated. I’m gonna come over and explain. But first I gotta talk to Natalie. Can you text me her address?’

  ‘Course. Y’know, I’ve had the old bill round looking for you. But don’t worry, I fobbed them off.’

  Kaz’s stomach lurched. In her anxiety to sidestep Paul it hadn’t occurred to her that the police would’ve questioned Glynis. Were they also monitoring her cousin’s calls? Possibly. But it was too late now.

  ‘You’re a rock, Glyn. I’ll get back to you, promise.’

  ‘Take care, lovey. I’ll text you now.’

  Clicking the phone off, Kaz cursed her own stupidity. It should’ve been a simple matter, getting her sister’s address, but she hadn’t thought it through. Her brain was in a scramble and she needed to get a grip. This was the kind of elementary mistake she couldn’t afford.

  Making an effort to focus her thoughts, she stared out blankly at the eerie suburban road of detached houses picked out in hazy pools of lamplight. She’d always liked Chelmsford but the autumnal mist creeping across the river meadows gave the homes they were passing a spectral air and this fuelled her rising paranoia. Still, paranoia had its uses; it was a mindset that kept you safe. Joey’s problem had always been that he was too blasé about these sorts of details, an error Kaz wouldn’t repeat.

  After a couple of minutes the phone buzzed with an incoming text. Kaz opened it and read out the postcode and house number to Darius, who tapped it into his satnav. Then, sliding the back casing off the phone, she removed the SIM. Would the police really be listening in to every call? She doubted they had the resources. Anyway, she didn’t plan on staying long at her sister’s. Even if they were on the case, she’d be in and out before they turned up.

  The cab joined the A12 at a roundabout and as it accelerated up the slip road on to the dual carriageway she wound the window down, threw the phone out into the darkness and followed it with the SIM. From now on she’d take proper care.

  Darius looked across at her. Leaving the urban fringes behind for the blackness of the open road, he could only glimpse her face when it was thrown into relief by the oncoming headlights. She was understandably upset and, he suspected, in shock. He’d learnt from the charge nurse that Ellie had suffered over 30 per cent burns. He wanted to offer words of comfort but settled for a conversational tone. ‘She’s your cousin?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The one you called.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Sort of cousin-in-law.’

  ‘She’s married to Sean? Paul’s mentioned him, but I never met him. I hear he’s in Spain.’

  ‘I heard that too.’

  ‘Couldn’t he help you?’

  ‘No.’ The tone was curt and dismissive. She turned away.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.’

  After a moment he heard her sigh. ‘You haven’t. I just don’t need twenty questions right now.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  They relapsed into silence and didn’t speak again until they reached the outskirts of Southend.

  Coming out of her reverie, Kaz turned to him. ‘You any good at finding out stuff?’

  ‘I don’t know. Try me.’

  ‘There’s someone I need to find. Her name’s Irina Koshkin. Her brother was shot at the funeral.’

  ‘You’ve no idea where she is?’

  ‘Her brother had a place in Berkshire, but she ain’t there. I checked. I think she could be in London. She’s got a cousin too, called Mika. My guess is she’s staying with him.’

  ‘You got a mobile number?’

  ‘Her phone’s been turned off.’

  Darius puffed out his cheeks. ‘I know a bloke who tracks people down. I’ll talk to him.’

  Kaz nodded her thanks. Her train of thought had already moved on.

  The satnav led them to a sixties semi on the eastern edge of the town towards Shoebury. It was neat with a small garden and two tubs of pansies either side of the front door. This was not at all the kind of place Kaz had been expecting. In her previous life as a junkie, Natalie had lived in a squalid tower-block flat from which she rarely emerged. The notion of her sister as a gardener, tending her pots, struck Kaz as incongruous but also hopeful.

  The cab parked a few doors down and she glanced at Darius. He smiled. ‘I’ll wait here.’

  ‘Thanks. I don’t plan on staying long.’

  As she walked up the short front path the security light over the porch came on. She rang the doorbell and heard the singsong chime echo through the house. The curtain in the living room window shifted and several minutes later a shadow appeared behind the frosted glass door.

  Natalie opened the door. Gripping a towelling bathrobe tightly round her, she presented her sister with an irritated frown. ‘Fucking hell, Kaz. You all right?’

  ‘Yeah. But Mum isn’t.’

  ‘I know.’

  As she stepped over the threshold, Natalie pulled her into a hug. Kaz clutched her sister’s narrow frame. She’d come here intending to be strong. She was the big sister, that was her job. But something inside simply cracked and she couldn’t hold on to the tears of rage and desperation any longer. They flooded out, her head dipped down on her sister’s shoulder and she sobbed. Natalie stroked the back of her head. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘It fucking isn’t!’

  ‘Sssh, babes.’

  Raising her head, Kaz swept her palm across her face. ‘I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t woken the baby.’

  ‘It’s fine. Come in the kitchen, I got some tissues.’

  Natalie closed the front door and led the way down the hall.

  The décor
was plain; magnolia walls, a beige carpet. The place had a well-ordered homely feel. A baby stroller was tucked away in the recess under the stairs. Kaz followed her sister into the compact tidy kitchen, accepted a handful of tissues and blew her nose.

  ‘Looks like you’re ready for bed.’

  Natalie gave her a faint smile. ‘Not exactly.’

  At that moment the door to the sitting room opened.

  Kaz turned. ‘Oh, sorry . . .’

  The girl who stepped out into the hall was probably about Natalie’s age, elegant, with a mane of jet-black hair; she had on a tight leather bustier, a rhinestone-studded thong and little else. Kaz did a double take and her gaze flew back to her sister. It was only then she noticed that Natalie, like her friend, was wearing full make-up plus a sprinkling of glitter on her cheekbones.

  Natalie grinned. ‘Your face, Kaz! This is my mate, Ling, we met at NA – she’s my sponsor. Monday nights she joins me on my show.’

  ‘Your show?’

  ‘I got a show on the Net. I’m a cam girl.’

  ‘What? You mean porn?’

  ‘Well, sort of. I’ve built up a pretty good following. We strip off, dance around a bit. But really it’s like a little club.’

  ‘What sort of club?’

  ‘I work through this site. Blokes want to fantasize they got a relationship with you. They make offers of how much they’ll pay for you to do certain stuff. You only do what you’re comfortable with. I usually work four nights a week, once Finlay’s tucked up in bed.’

  ‘And it pays?’

  ‘Oh yeah. How do you think I afford the rent on this place? I couldn’t have gone back home to live with Mum.’

  Kaz shook her head in horror. ‘If I’d’ve known you was doing something like this . . .’

  Natalie laughed and turned to Ling. ‘She thinks she’s cool. But she’s such a fucking old woman, my sister.’

  ‘Nat, it’s porn.’

  ‘It’s acting. I’m my own boss. And actually we have a really good laugh.’

  Ling tossed her hair and giggled. ‘She’s very talented.’