The Killer

by Susan Wilkins

  49

  After the excitement of the dawn raid, Tom Rivlin had spent the rest of the morning hanging around. Sadik Kemal was arrested and taken to Paddington Green police station for interrogation. It was the Met’s show; a Project Team from SCD7 had been targeting the Kemals for nearly a year and they had the lead. But, on top of that, the National Crime Agency had elbowed its way into the operation; they were investigating the Kemals’ wider connections with the Turkish Mafia. Two slickly suited senior officers from their Organized Crime Command had vied with the Met for first crack at questioning the suspect. After a bit of horse-trading, the Met had won.

  Amy Raheem got Rivlin into the interrogation suite to witness the proceedings. He stood at the back, watching the bank of monitors over the shoulders of his seated colleagues.

  Raheem’s boss, a grizzled DCI addressed by everyone as Mac, sat in the centre. It was his gameplan that the two officers conducting the first round of questioning followed. Not that it got them very far.

  Sadik Kemal lounged back in his chair, his high-priced brief at his side, and he answered every question put to him with a languid, ‘No comment.’

  After about half an hour he finally said something different: ‘I gotta piss.’

  A fifteen-minute break was called, during which the two OCC suits persuaded Mac to let them have a go. No one, at that point, seemed about to acknowledge Essex’s interest in the proceedings.

  Rivlin wandered down the corridor to the coffee machine with Raheem. He couldn’t stop yawning. Turning out before dawn, not to mention very little sleep, was beginning to take its toll.

  Raheem gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Bet you’re glad you came.’

  ‘I should phone Stoneham, keep her in the loop.’

  Raheem nodded and left him to it. What he really wanted was to check his phone for any message from Nicci. But there was none. He knew those stupid flowers had been a mistake. He sent a quick text to Stoneham: ‘Nothing to report.’

  The second round of questioning by the OCC suits proved as futile as the first. Sadik Kemal savoured his coffee, considered his fingernails and continued to wearily repeat: ‘no comment’ in the appropriate places.

  A lunch break was called. All the officers involved adjourned to a meeting room to discuss the impasse. Burgers were ordered in. Rivlin sat at the back once again, quietly consuming his. Raheem sat beside him eating a healthy home-made salad.

  As the discussion maundered on, Rivlin tuned out. He thought about Nicci and what he should do next. If he called her, would she interpret that as pushy? Flowers, calls, he didn’t want to come over like a stalker. Possibly a text was better – short, less margin for error. But he needed to come up with something cool and pithy. He was considering this when he heard his name spoken.

  It was Mac: ‘Anything that Essex would like to offer, DI Rivlin?’

  All eyes turned towards him. He saw Raheem smirking. She knew that he hadn’t been paying attention.

  Setting his burger down and dusting off his fingers with a napkin he bought himself a few seconds. ‘Er, well, we think that the Kemals’ weak spot is that this would appear to be a personal vendetta against Karen Phelps.’

  ‘Why are you assuming it’s personal as opposed to rival crime syndicates falling out over turf or goods?’ It was the younger of the two OCC suits; he’d removed his jacket, loosened his tie and was wearing a sullen look.

  Rivlin shrugged. ‘Sadik took the risk of going after her himself.’

  ‘Isn’t that just his arrogance? Proves nothing. Their first attempt they hired in an Albanian shooter.’

  Rivlin met the OCC officer’s eye. They were about the same age and Rivlin wondered if he should be aiming for an NCA job and a smarter suit instead of vegetating in Essex. The OCC guy was clearly frustrated by the failure of their own round of questioning and was looking for a ruck. Ordinarily, Rivlin would have obliged, but he was tired and his heart wasn’t in it.

  He simply smiled. ‘You could be right.’

  Mac had been watching the standoff with interest. He rapped the table with his index finger. ‘Okay, Rivlin. The offence we’ve nicked him for happened on your patch. You’re up next. You and DS Raheem.’

  Rivlin only had time to collect a file from his briefcase before following Raheem into the interview room. Names and time were stated for the record and Tom Rivlin finally found himself eyeball to eyeball with Sadik Kemal.

  ‘What happened in Tottenham, Mr Kemal?’

  The Turk gave him a surly look. ‘No comment.’

  Rivlin was only too aware of all the hidden faces watching the monitors, judging his performance.

  ‘I’m not talking this week. I’m talking about back in the summer. Karen Phelps really made a fool of you and your brother, didn’t she?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘As you may know, the Phelps family are from Essex and we’ve had quite a few dealings with them over the years. Terry Phelps; Joey, his son, recently deceased. But I tell you something, Mr Kemal, Karen is the one to watch, always has been.’

  The Turk’s eyes bored into Rivlin and the look was one of total disdain. Most of the criminals Rivlin had interviewed in the past tended to crumble or become self-pitying once they were cornered. But Kemal was in a different league.

  Rivlin held his gaze and ploughed on. ‘She was a junkie as a kid, she’s done jail time, but she’s clever and tough, turned her life around and went to college. For my money, she’s smarter than Joey.’

  The lawyer cleared his throat. ‘And what is your question in relation to the alleged offence, Inspector?’

  Leaning back in his chair, Rivlin took his time. ‘Well, it’s a bit vague really. I was wondering if you know what she’s doing now?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘What do you think she’s up to? Doesn’t it worry you?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘You see, Mr Kemal, we’ve tried on several occasions, since the shooting at her brother’s funeral, to offer her police protection. But she’s not interested. You have to ask yourself why, don’t you?’

  The look of boredom had disappeared. The Turk fixed Rivlin with a hard stare. It felt for a moment as if he was actually about to reply to this. Then he gritted his teeth. ‘No comment.’

  ‘She obviously believes she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need us. And let’s face it, she’s right. There she was, in a hospital bed, and you still couldn’t get her. Two big tough blokes chasing an injured, barefoot girl and you blew it.’

  Sadik’s lip curled. ‘No comment.’

  ‘I think we can agree that you’ve underestimated her, can’t we?’

  The Turk inhaled and snorted out. ‘No comment.’

  Resting his elbows on the table, Rivlin smiled. ‘You see, I think she’s out there biding her time. Just because she’s a woman, you see her as weak – and that’s a lethal mistake on your part. Three cracks you’ve had at her. She’s beaten you every time. But she’s got to be pretty angry, wouldn’t you say?’

  Sadik Kemal was leaning back in his chair, but his body had become rigid. An electric tension had replaced the previous atmosphere of languor in the room.

  Rivlin leant forward and glared at the gangster. ‘You’ve failed, Mr Kemal. Miserably. And you know what, you’re the target now. You, your wife, your kids, your brother and his family. You won’t have to go looking for Karen Phelps. All you’ll have to do is look over your shoulder. She’ll be coming for you.’

  Without warning, the Turk erupted from his seat, kicking away the chair. Face contorted with fury, he slammed his fist on the table in front of Rivlin. ‘That fucking bitch! I see her in hell if she lays one fucking finger on my kids! I tear her fucking liver out and feed it to my dogs!’

  He picked up his chair and smashed it against the wall. The door flew open and uniformed officers piled in. Kemal was restrained and dragged off to the cells shouting: ‘Fucking bitch! I fucking kill her! She is fucking dead, I slit her fucking throat
myself!’

  As the commotion subsided, Raheem turned to Rivlin and grinned. ‘Well done. One nil to Essex, I reckon.’

  50

  Sitting towards the rear of the coffee shop with her back to the wall, Kaz had a good view of all comers. She was off the grid, she’d eluded both the cops and her pursuers, but the flip side of her freedom was a growing sense of emptiness and longing. Her sister didn’t want to know her. Everyone else simply wanted to use or abuse her. She wondered what Irina was doing at that moment. It had always felt to Kaz as though there was a special bond between them, but maybe that was just an illusion. Irina had made no attempt to contact her. She must’ve seen the news, heard about the fire. Or maybe not?

  Since the brief telephone call to Joey’s supposed lawyer, Kaz’s mood had become bleak. The exhilaration of escape had evaporated and all she could do was brood. They wanted her dead, that’s all she really knew. These men, their anger, their cruelty demanded that she be punished, tortured – probably for their pleasure – then killed. How was anyone supposed to deal with that sort of hatred? What else could she do but run? Relying on the police to protect her felt way too risky. Was she scared? Foolish not to be. But giving in to fear wasn’t an option either. So where did that leave her? Was this what her future would be like – an anonymous fugitive, hiding in a sea of strangers? Money had helped her get away but now what?

  She watched the steady drift of afternoon shoppers coming and going; drinking, eating cake, some weary, others gleefully examining their purchases. It made her nostalgic for a mundane life full of ordinary pleasures. But had her life ever been like that? In one way or another she’d always been on the run from someone or something – or herself. Even during her time as an art student in Glasgow, she’d been on the witness protection scheme and hiding behind a false identity. It crossed her mind that she could score some drugs and find respite in chemical oblivion, or simply get drunk. But she knew if she went down that road again she truly would be damned.

  Her thoughts skittered back to the hospital: the panic when she recognized Sadik Kemal and the rush of adrenaline as she ran from him. These bastards had tried to shoot her, burn her, kidnap her. Okay, she’d upset their macho pride – she’d had to, to protect a friend – but did that give them the right to hunt her down like this? Even at a distance, she could sense their enmity and the boundless anger that fuelled it. Her father had been a man like that: never forget, never back down, always a destroyer.

  All she’d wanted to do was bury her brother and get on with her life. A week had gone by since she’d stood at his graveside with Irina, with Yevgeny – people who’d become her friends. But that was history. Now she was alone and on the run, and it was all down to the Kemals.

  She thought of her mother. Seeing Ellie in such distress had stirred something visceral in Kaz. The desire to protect her, in spite of all their past discord, was there and impossible to ignore. And Natalie, struggling with a child born of incest. Kaz could only imagine how that felt.

  But as the arguments and resentment continued to spin in her brain, Kaz gradually became aware of a fizzing fury in the pit of her stomach. And it was rising. These slags had left her no option; she had to find a way to fight back. She was a Phelps after all and the ghost of Joey haunted her. His voice, his laughter – she had few waking moments when they weren’t lurking somewhere in her mind. He’d always wanted her back in the family firm and for her to accept who she really was. Why had she wasted so much energy resisting him? To impress a lover? A posh bitch who’d dumped her, and was now dead.

  Staring into space, she was ruminating on this when she noticed the nervous, bird-like figure of Glynis Phelps hovering in the doorway of the cafe. Raising her hand, Kaz waved. Seeing her, Glynis smiled and tottered over on her ridiculously high heels. They were cousins by marriage and couldn’t be more different but, in her current predicament, Kaz knew the only person she could rely on was Glynis.

  She got up and drew her tiny cousin into a hug. ‘Thanks for coming, Glyn.’

  ‘I’ve had that Paul Ackroyd banging on me door, so I knew you’d done a flit.’

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘I don’t trust him, Kaz. He’s a lairy bugger.’

  ‘I don’t trust him either. Let me get you a coffee.’

  ‘Black, please. I’m trying to cut down.’

  Kaz smiled at the petite figure settling in a chair. ‘Cut down? There’s nothing of you as it is.’

  Glynis shot her an anxious look. ‘I couldn’t stand it if I became obese. Your heart, cancer, diabetes – it increases your risk of all them things.’

  Deciding not to argue the point, Kaz went to queue at the counter. Glancing back, she watched her cousin take out a compact and check her make-up. She put the compact away, then took it out to check again. Glynis was a rattling bag of nerves, engaged in a constant battle to get through each day. She’d never been a confident woman and the years she’d spent as the punchbag of a brutal husband hadn’t helped. Kaz had dispatched Sean, saving them both from his violence; it was the secret they shared and the bond between them.

  Presenting Glynis with her coffee, Kaz sat down in the opposite chair. Glynis reached out and stroked her arm.

  ‘Lovely jacket. Feel that leather, so soft.’

  Kaz smiled. ‘I lost everything in the fire. So I been doing a bit of shopping.’

  ‘You look much better.’

  ‘Hair’s a bit frizzy, but I’m getting there.’

  ‘You said on the phone you needed some help.’ Glynis fiddled obsessively with the rings on her fingers, twisting, repositioning; her hands were never still.

  ‘I don’t like to involve you, but I’m in a fix.’

  In spite of her cousin’s edginess, Kaz found comfort in her company. They’d never been friends. Their conversations had always been awkward. But Glynis had a good heart.

  She shot Kaz a nervous glance. ‘So you went to see Natalie?’

  ‘Yeah. Last night. Thanks for the address.’

  ‘Was she okay?’

  Kaz sighed, she’d been hoping to skirt round the subject of her sister without saying too much. ‘Yeah.’

  Glynis sipped her coffee. ‘I’m guessing she told you about the boy.’ For all her neuroses, she was sharp as a tack.

  ‘She tell you that?’

  ‘She didn’t have to. I phoned her this morning. She was in a right old stew. I’m worried about her, Kaz.’

  ‘She more or less told me to get lost.’

  ‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Would she? Why?’ Kaz frowned. She was thinking about Jez, the boyfriend of Natalie’s that Joey threw off a balcony. But she decided not to mention that.

  ‘’Cause she’s ashamed and she thinks everyone’s gonna judge her. Especially you.’

  ‘Me? What, she thinks I don’t know what my brother was like? The whole thing makes me feel sick.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Yeah, but that don’t mean—’

  ‘You think the look on your face don’t give you away? Just now, soon as I mentioned her, you was uncomfortable.’

  ‘Oh come on, Glyn. That don’t mean nothing.’

  ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘Okay, I was shocked. And yeah, she would’ve clocked that from my face.’

  ‘Be honest. You was disgusted.’

  ‘Not with her! For fuck’s sake, what am I being accused of here?’

  Kaz glared belligerently across the table. But Glynis held her ground.

  ‘I’m not accusing you. I’m only trying to make you see.’

  ‘See what? What the fuck am I not seeing?’

  ‘How it really is for her.’

  The two women stared at each other. Kaz got the impression that Glynis had been bottling this up for some time.

  ‘She loves that kiddie so much, Kaz. She’s desperate to protect him. But she’s ashamed, so ashamed, and she’s got nowhere to go with that. It eats away at her.’

/>   ‘Has she told Mum that he’s Joey’s?’

  ‘Whadda you think?’ An unexpectedly cynical smile crept over Glynis’s timid features.

  Kaz exhaled. ‘Look, I’m not stupid. I get it. She’s pushing everyone away because she don’t trust them not to judge her. But as far as I’m concerned, she’s got nothing to be ashamed of. I know Joey. And I know he did it ’cause of me, ’cause I pissed him off. Anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.’

  ‘You need to tell her that.’

  ‘I will. When I get the chance.’

  They sat in silence for a full minute. Kaz stared into space. She was beginning to think that getting in touch with Glynis had been a mistake. It was a measure of her desperation.

  Glynis twisted a heavy gold signet ring round and round. Eventually she sighed. ‘You going back on witness protection?’

  ‘No one’s offering that choice. It’s jail or run.’

  ‘How you gonna manage?’

  ‘I’ll manage. But I need you to keep me posted. About Mum. And about Natalie.’

  ‘Thought that might be the case.’ Glynis reached into her large handbag and brought out a small plastic carrier. ‘I stopped off at different shops and got you a couple of burners. Paid cash. No way they can be traced back to you.’

  Brightening, Kaz peered in the bag at the two prepaid phones. ‘You’re brilliant, Glyn. Thanks.’

  ‘Being married to Sean all them years, I picked up a few tricks.’

  ‘More than a few.’ Kaz grinned.

  Glynis stopped fidgeting long enough to give her a warm smile in return. ‘I wish you luck, babes. And don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them for you.’

  ‘That sounds like you don’t expect to see me again any time soon.’

  Glynis shrugged. ‘Well, what you gonna do? It’s like before – you have to walk away, you got no choice.’