by Val McDermid
‘Hi, ho, Silver, away.’ He grinned again. Damn, but it’s a great sense of connection when someone gets your cultural references. ‘I’ll go and chase your gatecrasher away, Stephanie. I’ll consider it the price of admission.’
‘Thank you. And thanks for coming.’
‘I’m glad I did.’ Nick dipped his head then slipped away from me through the crowd. As soon as he came between me and Pete, I walked quickly along the fringe of the room and through the door into the bustling kitchen area. A pink-faced woman in chef’s whites said, ‘Oi! You can’t come in here,’ as soon as she caught sight of me.
‘I need to check out the back way in case Scarlett needs to leave quietly,’ I said in as authoritative a tone as I could muster. ‘You know, with the cancer treatment, she can’t always predict how much energy she’s going to have. And she doesn’t want to make a fuss.’
‘Oh, I get it. You’re like the SAS, clearing the route for her.’
I tried not to roll my eyes. ‘Something like that.’
Three minutes later, I emerged from a service lift at the back of the building. I didn’t have my car with me – it was still at Scarlett’s house, since I’d travelled to the memorial in one of the big black Daimlers Georgie had ordered to bring us from Essex in style. That didn’t matter. The car could stay put until I needed it. I couldn’t go back to Essex tonight. That would be exactly where Pete would come looking if Nick didn’t put him off the whole idea of tracking me down. Somehow, I didn’t think a word from Nick would wave a magic wand and end my persecution.
And assuming Nick did manage to buy me a few minutes, I knew I had to get out of the immediate neighbourhood before Pete emerged from the Centre Point tower. The one thing I had going for me was that clearly he still didn’t know where I lived. That was why he was here today. An event he knew I’d be participating in, at a crowded venue where he knew I wouldn’t want to make a scene. Then he could pick up my trail and follow me back to my lair. His mistake had been to show himself. If he hadn’t been so cocksure, he could have kept watch in the street below and simply followed me when I emerged without a suspicion. Thank God for arrogance.
I looked around to get my bearings, then headed for Tottenham Court Road station at a brisk pace. Northern Line to Waterloo then Jubilee Line to London Bridge, then a train to Brighton. I would be safe behind my own front door in less than two hours. The very idea put a spring into my step. I’d thwarted the man who threatened my peace of mind.
It was a great feeling. Shame it didn’t last long.
40
It had taken a while to get there, but Vivian McKuras figured they were finally getting to the heart of the matter. Pete Matthews was emerging as a man with a grudge against Stephanie Harker, and a man who didn’t give up easily. ‘Was that the first time you’d had any evidence that he was still trying to track you down?’ she asked.
Stephanie nodded wearily. Her face had aged as the day had worn on, the markers of the years overwhelming the youthful elements of her features. Vivian had seen it before in those left behind by a crime. The damage became visible very quickly. Her voice had changed too. It had grown markedly less sprightly as her story had unfolded. ‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘I really thought he’d given up. But obviously he hadn’t. The thing is, I don’t lead a very public life. Other writers appear at literary festivals, or give talks at libraries. Ghost writers don’t. If you don’t know where I live, it would be hard to stake out anywhere I visit regularly. I seldom go to my agent’s office – if we’re seeing each other, we tend to do lunch and meet at the restaurant. Or if I’m auditioning for a book, we’ll meet at the venue. And it’s rare for me to attend launch events for books I’ve written. It’s easier all round if I stay invisible.’
‘Couldn’t he track you down through property title or taxes, that sort of thing? Is that not possible in your country?’
‘I didn’t buy the house in Brighton in my own name. I set up a limited company and used it to purchase the property. I pay rent to the company, and the rent covers the mortgage. That way I don’t show up as the owner at the Land Registry. My name is not on the public register of council tax, and all the utilities are in the company name. My bank statements and credit card bills all go to my agent’s office address. I did everything I could to cover my tracks.’
‘You had him tabbed as somebody tenacious then? A guy who wasn’t going to give up and walk away?’
Stephanie looked fed up. ‘Well, obviously. Given the way he started stalking me. And given what I knew about his temperament. He was an obsessive perfectionist at work. But I was equally determined not to make it easy for him to force his way back into my life. I thought he would give up if he couldn’t make any headway.’ She shook her head. ‘I was wrong.’
Vivian pulled her laptop back in front of her and brought up the footage from the security area. She freeze-framed the image immediately before the kidnapper appeared. ‘I want you to look at this very carefully and tell me whether you think this man could be Pete Matthews.’ She turned the screen so that Stephanie could see it.
Stephanie’s first reaction was to gasp at the sight of Jimmy. Her hand flew to her mouth, she drew her breath in sharply. Her other hand moved towards the screen. ‘Jimmy,’ she murmured. A single tear spilled from the corner of her eye and her face twisted in sorrow.
Vivian gave her a moment to compose herself. Either this woman was a consummate actress or she was entirely innocent of any involvement in the boy’s disappearance. Vivian wished she’d thought of confronting her with the CCTV footage sooner, if only to clarify that issue.
Stephanie sniffed hard and wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. ‘It’s OK,’ she croaked, nodding and blinking. Vivian pressed play. The footage jerked into motion. The man came into shot, his cap obscuring his face. His legs were long compared to his torso, which looked strangely paunchy in contrast with limbs that seemed skinny. He bent slightly to talk to Jimmy, took the boy’s hand, grabbed his backpack and passport and walked briskly away. Through it all, Stephanie held her breath. When they disappeared from sight, she released it in a soft moan.
‘Is it him?’ Vivian asked.
Stephanie frowned. ‘I’m really not sure. I don’t think it’s him, but . . . I don’t know, there’s something familiar about the way he moves.’ Bewildered, she looked up at the FBI agent. ‘I don’t think it’s Pete, but I couldn’t swear to it.’
‘What about his build? His height and weight? Look again, Stephanie.’ Vivian ran the short segment for a second time.
Stephanie still looked doubtful. ‘It’s hard to be sure about his height. He’s got that paunch, which Pete definitely didn’t have the last time I saw him. But apart from that, he’s got the same sort of build.’
It was enough for Vivian. She knew all about the reluctance of witnesses to make identifications that went against what they wanted to believe about people in their lives. Stephanie had taken a long time to get to Pete Matthews as a possible perp. She wasn’t going to suddenly go all out to point the finger now. A possible ID was a pretty good starting point as far as Vivian was concerned. If Detective Sergeant Nicolaides couldn’t positively place Matthews in the UK, she would happily promote him to number one on her suspect list. Be honest, Viv, he’s your only suspect right now. She swung the computer back round to face her. Time to change tack.
‘What happened when Detective Nicolaides told Pete to leave the memorial?’
‘I didn’t find that out till much later,’ Stephanie said. ‘All I knew was that Pete didn’t show up in Brighton. And he wasn’t waiting for me at Scarlett’s when I went back to pick up my car. I really did think he’d finally got the message. To be honest, he hardly crossed my mind.’ Her expression darkened again. ‘There were other things happening that were a lot more important to me than whatever was going on in Pete’s head.’
41
After Joshu’s memorial, we all turned our focus back on Scarlett and her treatment. The chemo
was almost over, then there was a brief course of radiotherapy. And then, miraculously, the all-clear. Simon told her that the treatment had been successful and although she would continue with drug therapy for the next five years, the chances were high that she was now clear of cancer.
We celebrated with a banquet out at the hacienda. It was a small party – Scarlett, Leanne, George and his partner, Marina, Simon and me. We’d hired a couple of chefs from the local Chinese restaurant and they presented us with a stunning sequence of irresistible courses that left us all groaning. We washed it all down with buckets of Prosecco, toasting Scarlett with every course. ‘And my new book,’ she said on the third or fourth toast. ‘Now I’ve got the all-clear, we can publish, right, George?’
‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘I know Stephanie’s all set with the typescript. And a very moving read it is too, girls. You’ve outdone yourselves with this one.’
Leanne, who’d had a few more drinks than the rest of us, gave her cousin a sloppy kiss on the cheek. ‘And for the first time in his sorry life, Joshu had perfect timing. Right, Scarlett?’
There was a moment of grisly silence as we all exchanged horrified looks. Then Scarlett said, ‘For fuck’s sake, Leanne, not in front of Jimmy.’
Leanne opened her mouth to say something, but Simon cut across her. ‘We’re here to salute the future, not brood on the past, Leanne. Let’s raise a glass to our generous hostess and her son. To Scarlett and Jimmy!’
It was the perfect diversion and we all fell on it gratefully. It turned out to be the only sour moment in a sweet evening of celebration. Jimmy soon grew tired and, before he could become fractious, Marina whisked him away and miraculously got him to go to sleep. She was always amazing with Jimmy, much more so than any of the rest of us, including his mother. If I could have tempted her back to the UK to help me take care of Jimmy, I’d have done it in a heartbeat.
Simon had been right with the toast, though. It was time to look to the future. I was pleased that my friend had been granted time and health. Selfishly, I was also looking forward to having more time to myself. I didn’t begrudge Scarlett a moment I’d devoted to her during the trauma of diagnosis and treatment. However, I needed to get on with my work, and with establishing my new life in Brighton. She’d always be part of my world, like any good friend. But I was beginning to make new connections – a book group, a pub quiz team – and I wanted that part of my life to grow too.
It turned out I wasn’t the only one who was ready for change. It was about ten days later that I next saw Scarlett, and this time she came down to Brighton. ‘It’s not fair, you always trailing up to mine,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to have a day out by the seaside, and now Jimmy’s in nursery all day, I’ve got more time to myself.’
We wandered round the Lanes for a while, looking for bargains and finding none. She did end up buying a Navajo blanket for the living room, paying about twice as much as I’d have done, even supposing I had her kind of money. And she was making good money by then – the TV shows, the merchandising, the endorsements for everything from kids’ clothes to vitamin supplements. What the books earned was the icing on a towering layer cake. True to her word, a tenth of everything she earned was funnelled into the charitable trust she’d set up for the Romanian orphanage, and she planned to visit them again later in the year to see what practical use had been made of the money she’d raised. ‘I’m going to set up a sponsored night swim,’ she said. ‘Sort of like the Moonwalk, only in swimming pools. From midnight till six in the morning. Women can form teams or do it individually.’
‘That’s a great idea.’ I meant it. ‘Will you take part yourself?’
‘Course I will. I’ll put a team together with the girls from the show. It’ll be a laugh.’ She gave me a wry smile. ‘There’ll be plenty waiting for me to fall on my arse. But they don’t know I swim every bloody day, do they?’
‘You show them,’ I said. ‘Plus, it’s for a good cause. If they try to make you look bad, they’ll end up looking pretty shabby.’
‘True. Oh, and another thing about Romania. When Jimmy starts school, I’m going to pack Marina off back to Romania to be my eyes and ears out at Timonescu.’
I admit, I didn’t see that one coming. ‘Does she want to go back to Romania?’
Scarlett nodded. ‘She talked to me about going home before I had my diagnosis.’ This was how Scarlett divided her life these days. ‘Before I had my diagnosis’ and ‘after I had my diagnosis’. She didn’t speak of cancer in relation to herself. ‘She misses her family and she feels homesick,’ she went on. ‘I persuaded her to stay on the promise that she could go back with a job once she’s seen Jimmy off to school. She’s going to work alongside the head of the orphanage and administer our funding. She’ll be well paid and she’ll have a job that’s worth doing. I mean, face it, Steph, she’s got skills and talents way above what she does for me.’
I couldn’t help laughing. ‘No kidding. She could run the bloody country. I hope you know what you’re doing to Romania, letting her go back.’
Scarlett laughed too. ‘She’ll do a fantastic job for those kids.’
‘But can you manage without her?’
‘Of course not. It would be a bloody nightmare. My domestic skills are non-existent. But Marina’s promised to send me a replacement. The daughter of one of her cousins, apparently. Marina says she’s like a mini-me of her. So I’ll be sorted and she’ll be sorted and Jimmy will have somebody who knows how to make his favourite Romanian meatballs according to Marina’s granny’s traditional recipe.’
We both giggled. I’d picked up the frozen Swedish meatballs from Ikea often enough to get the joke.
We arranged for the shop to deliver the rug to my house later and walked down to the pier. She bought ice creams for us both and we walked along licking our cornets. ‘I love being by the seaside,’ Scarlett said. ‘We never went on holidays when I was a kid, but somebody always took us to the seaside for a day out. Scarborough. Brid. Whitby, if we were lucky. Coming to see you now makes me feel like I’m going back in time to one of the few good bits of my childhood. I love the smell of fish and chips and candy floss. I love the neon and the old-fashioned signs on the rides and the bingo. I love the slot machines and the crappy grab-a-toy games that never let you win. And I love the way that even when it rains, people still walk along the prom and make the most of it. It’s very British, isn’t it?’
‘I wonder if the next generation of kids will feel the same. Brought up on Benidorm and Disneyland. Will they love this—’ I waved my hand expansively, ‘—or will they see it as cut-price self-storage for pensioners?’
‘God, what a depressing thought,’ Scarlett said. ‘I’m not giving thoughts like that house room any more. I am Miss Positive from now on. So much of the cancer stuff I read talked about mental attitude and the cancer personality. Like, storing up bitterness in your heart somehow turns into cancer in your body.’ She held up a hand to stop me before I spoke. ‘I know, it’s probably all bollocks, but it gives me an excuse to make myself think positive and dump all the negativity.’
‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘I’m all for clearing the bitterness out of life.’ We leaned on the railing and looked out across the glittering green and grey of the English Channel.
‘Speaking of which,’ she said, ‘Leanne’s off to Spain.’
That was the second bolt from the blue. First Marina, now Leanne. It was all change at the hacienda. ‘That’s a bit of a surprise,’ I said.
‘Why? I talked to you about it ages ago. Before I had my diagnosis.’
‘You did. But she was such a support when you were having your treatment. And she had her hair cut, and people accepted her as your cousin. I thought you’d changed your mind.’
She gave me a look. Sorrowful. Almost pitying. ‘You only ever saw Leanne’s good side, didn’t you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ And I didn’t. I really didn’t.
‘Leanne only let you see the
smiley, helpful, good side. Even when she ratted Joshu out, she made out that she was devastated, that she couldn’t keep it to herself because she couldn’t bear the thought of him doing the dirty on me. Am I right?’
‘Yes. She was upset on your account.’ I cast my mind back to that momentous night. I couldn’t recall any reason to doubt the way Leanne had presented things to me. ‘She wasn’t sure what to do for the best, but she thought she owed it to you to let you know.’
Scarlett sighed and stared out across the sea. ‘She was dying to tell me,’ she said. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think she said anything that wasn’t true. She didn’t lie about Joshu, though I wouldn’t put it past her to make up a steaming great pile of shit about him if there hadn’t been a truth to dish up. But she enjoyed every minute of seeing me hurt and humiliated.’
I was genuinely shocked by Scarlett’s words. ‘You think? I didn’t see that at all. I saw her upset and worried. Scared and nervous about telling you.’
‘You saw what she let you see.’ Scarlett gave her ice cream one last lick then threw it out over the water, watching as the gulls squabbled over the disintegrating cornet. ‘She knew what she was doing, Steph. I never had illusions about Joshu. I always knew he’d take it where he could get it if he thought he could get away with it. Although we never laid it out for each other in those terms, we both knew that was what the deal was. As long as he didn’t rub my nose in it, as long as he never humiliated me, I never would have called him on it. Because I knew that deep down, he loved me. Leanne, she came from the same world as me. She knew the score.’
I was beginning to see an ugly picture I hadn’t suspected existed. I didn’t know what pissed me off more – the truth behind the game that had been played out with me as a piece on the board, or that I, who prided myself on being able to read people, had been so thoroughly taken in. ‘Leanne knew that if she told you and made me part of spilling the beans that you couldn’t ignore it. That you’d have to confront Joshu.’