“Hey, it was Giorgio that bribed Naples, not me. The channels of communication are wide open, and no one suspects you. The Caraceni widow killed Yuri Dementyev? No way. Giuseppe may be dead, but you can still hide behind his name.”
“I killed someone, Giancarlo. I don’t want to get into this shit.”
“Don’t worry, the guilt wears off quite fast. Your first kill is always the hardest. You didn’t murder a boy scout; you killed a lying, scheming son-of-a-bitch.”
“That doesn’t make it right. This isn’t who I want to be.”
“Please tell me you’re not using drugs, Canna.”
“I’m not, I’m clean. But I don’t know if I can stay clean after all of this.”
“Well, one step at a time. Claudio… does he know you killed Yuri?”
“He doesn’t even know that Yuri is dead yet.”
“Will you tell him the truth?”
“Honesty is not the best policy.”
“The news that Virtuosi played at Yuri’s palace will get out. You need to do a PR blitz to cover it up as best as you can.”
“They are playing a sold-out show at the Royal Albert Hall in three days’ time. There will be a media frenzy.”
“Excellent.”
“So what do I do now?”
“Canna, get rid of that champagne bottle. If Interpol or anyone else contact you, tell them the truth about the party, and pretend like you moved out of that bedroom much, much earlier in the night. We can work out a plan as we go.”
“What would I do without you?”
“The cover ups of your crimes would be far more complex.” Giancarlo chuckled. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How is Milan? How are Perla and the girls?”
“My ladies are all fine. Milan is quiet. Francesca already has an agent in the Milan apartment and they have found someone interested in buying the place.”
“Terrific.”
“Giorgio hasn’t turned up in Milan. Guillermo Savelli and his wife are worried about their son.”
“Has anyone reported his disappearance to the police?”
“I doubt it.”
Canna heard a noise upstairs; Claudio was awake. “I have to go to the man I love,” she whispered.
“Well, you’re good at that.”
“Grazie!”
“Prego!”
“Thanks, Giancarlo, for listening to all the information that’s out there.”
“Don’t worry, I will be invoicing you for extra work,” he joked.
“Consider a fat bonus coming your way. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Ciao.”
Canna put down the phone and listened. She heard the bathroom door close. She scrambled off the couch and went for her suitcase. Among her packed clothes was the champagne. She scooped it and inspected it; as clean as the moment she hit Yuri.
Canna dashed outside in the dark and looked around the street. There was a public bin a few doors down from her home. She ran across the cold cobbled path and tossed the bottle in the bin. Street cleaners emptied them every night so its life in a suburban bin wouldn’t last long.
“What are you doing?”
Canna spun around the find a well-dressed middle aged woman right behind her. Canna recognised her; she lived across the street. “Just… um…”
The woman raised her gloved hand. “Say no more. Someone you love has a drinking problem?”
“Um, yes.”
“So does my husband. I can’t tell you how many bottles I have hidden in other peoples’ rubbish over the years.”
Canna smiled. “Sometimes, removal of the temptation is the salvation. Will-power isn’t enough on its own.”
“You should be proud of yourself,” the woman replied as she went to cross the narrow street. “I’m sure your husband’s sponsor will be glad to hear of your night-time rubbish bin dumping.”
“Have a good evening,” Canna called and turned back into the house.
Canna went and washed her hands in the downstairs bathroom. She paused for a moment with her eyes closed and could hear her heartbeat. Whenever she came down off her morphine high, her heart would pound and the cold sweat would form on her skin. It was a reminder how awful it felt to be addicted to drugs. Canna opened her eyes and looked at her pale, tired face in the mirror. The scars around her eye, jaw and neck seemed to stand out more than normal. Her curly black and blonde hair looked like a bird’s nest. She looked like a crazed killer.
“Blinky?”
Canna went down the hallway to find Claudio in the living room, dressed in just his boxers and a t-shirt. “Hey.”
Claudio turned around to her and smiled. “How long have you been up?”
“I just got up,” Canna lied. “How’s the hangover?”
“Brutal,” he mumbled as he put his arms around her. Canna felt his strong hands rub her back through the thick sweater. “I might give up drinking.”
“Everyone says that. I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve said it.”
“I should stop drinking to support you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know that.”
Canna looked at him for a moment. How could she keep lying to him? She needed to tell them that Yuri was dead, and she needed to tell him that she was the killer. But if she did, then he would be considered an accessory.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to get high right now.” That wasn’t a lie. She expected him to be mad; instead Claudio looked disappointed. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be, it’s okay.” Claudio took a deep breath. “I won’t let you get high.”
“I don’t have any access to pills.”
“Glad to hear it. I won’t let you go near alcohol either, even if I have to hold you down.”
“Please tell me it will involve some fun wrestling game in which we both end up naked.”
Claudio laughed. “Sure, whatever it takes. Why are you feeling the need to use? What triggered it?”
“Yuri Dementyev.”
“You’re still mad at him?”
“Yuri is dead.”
Claudio’s eyes bulged. “What?”
“He was found dead at about midday, in his palace. He had been dead for hours.”
“But… what the fuck happened?”
“Blow to the head, they reckon.” Canna didn’t have the guts to tell him the truth. Lying would protect them both. They could have an exciting life if she didn’t end up in a Russian jail.
“Was he… was he dead…. before we left the house?”
“Looks that way.”
Claudio shivered. “Holy shit. We were singing at a guy’s birthday party, and he gets killed… what if he died as we sang for him? Was he dead while everyone partied?”
“Claudio, slow down.” Canna tightened her arms around his waist. “Let’s not go speculating on the details.”
“Yuri was murdered at his own birthday party, in his own house.”
“So the suspect list is a mile long.”
“Are we suspects?”
“I’m sure the police are able to narrow down the suspects. A group of performers who came to entertain aren’t high on a suspect list. Yuri and his family are rich, powerful and hated.”
“But to kill him at his own party, that’s nasty. So many people said nasty things about him that night. Even me.”
“It was all true, Claudio.”
“Where did they find him?”
“In the guest suite next to his own room.”
“Wait, your room?”
“The room I moved out of early in the night so I could share with you instead, remember?”
“Jesus, Catherine. That’s scary. Did they find a murder weapon?”
“I don’t know, there aren’t many details yet.” Canna had already lied several times, and hundreds of lies would follow. “Can I at least have a cigarette?”
“No, you don’t need to lean on anything. I’m sorry, but I w
on’t let you hurt yourself.”
“What if sex is the cure?”
“Okay, that’s different.” Claudio pulled her tight into a hug and rocked her in his arms. “Fuck,” he muttered, “I wonder if the others know.”
“We can tell them tomorrow. I can’t face more questions.”
“How did you find out?”
“Giancarlo heard the news and rang me.”
“This is a mess. It leaves a shitload of problems for us.”
How little you know. “This is my fault.”
Claudio let her go just enough to look her in the eye. “Just for now, for tonight, we only need to control your need to fuck yourself up with drugs and alcohol.”
“Wow, you put that so delicately.”
“Do you need to call your new sponsor, Mike?”
“Nah. Admitting that I want to hurt myself is easy to say to a stranger. Saying it to you is much more difficult.”
Claudio shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s more comforting than when you used to come and see me when you were high, and I couldn’t help you.”
“I need to do something that isn’t getting high.”
“Hot bath and a massage?”
“Depends, are you in the bath with me?”
“Hell yes.”
“Can I massage you, too?”
“Are you suggesting I don’t give a good massage?”
“Um, you’ve never even given me a massage. Maybe your wife can tell me whether you’re good at it.”
“Funny,” Claudio laughed sarcastically.
Canna could make jokes all she liked, but every time she blinked, she could see Yuri’s body. His eyes were wide open, flat on his back on the Persian rug at the foot of the bed. The man who was going to rape her was dead. This time, the predator wouldn’t go free, like Giuseppe and Marino did. “Life is just a series of fuck-ups. Perhaps we should just pack up and move to New Zealand. You can’t get any further away from here than that.”
“Life isn’t that simple.”
The doorbell rang, and the pair jumped in each other’s arms. Oh God, Canna thought. They have caught me already.
“Let’s ignore it,” Claudio said. “I’m not even wearing pants.”
This time there was a steady knock. “I will tell them to piss off,” Canna said and unthreaded herself from Claudio’s embrace.
Out of the corner of her eye, Canna saw Claudio pull a pair of trousers out of his suitcase as she opened the door. Shit. “Veena. Terrific timing, as always.”
“Is the asshole home, or not?”
“The asshole is home.”
“I want the asshole to explain why he has filed papers to stop me from flying home to Cartagena after I have the baby.” Veena moved uncomfortably on her swollen feet.
Claudio appeared behind Canna in the doorway. “I want do this at the lawyer’s office, Veena,” he said. “I can’t trust anything you say. I hope you didn’t walk here.”
“Of course not,” she spat back. “Michael drove me, he’s parking the car.”
“I would like to meet the guy who loves a woman polluted with an unwanted baby,” Canna said.
“My baby is unwanted, is he?” Veena rubbed her huge stomach.
“I want the baby,” Claudio said. “A baby between you and me isn’t a dream come true. I love my son regardless of the fact you’re his mother. I’m sure you agree that the situation isn’t ideal.”
“I can’t deal with this right now,” Canna said.
“Go on, run away,” Veena said.
Claudio guided Canna out of the doorway and towards the living room. “Go and sit down, please. I will take care of this.”
Veena scoffed. “You offer her a seat and relaxation? I’m eight months pregnant!”
Claudio looked over Veena’s shoulder as Michael came up the stairs. He had seen the guy a few times at meetings with the lawyers. He stopped a few steps down from Veena. “Claudio.”
His refined English accent served to annoy Claudio more. “Michael.”
“This isn’t the time or place for an argument,” Michael said to Veena.
“I set up the injunction so you wouldn’t take the baby home to Spain before we had a custody arrangement in place,” Claudio explained.
“That bitch gave you the idea, didn’t she?” Veena said.
“Don’t call her that. I’m sick of hearing you call her names.”
“I don’t even know what her real name is,” Michael quipped.
“Her name is Catherine,” Claudio said.
Canna reappeared in the doorway again behind Claudio. “Mike?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Canna,” he said and looked from her to Veena. “I didn’t know you lived here. Your Claudio’s…”
“Mistress,” Veena interrupted.
Canna rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m Claudio’s dirty whore,” she played along.
“Wait, how do you know each other?” Veena asked.
Claudio had gone pale. He had already figured it out. Michael, Mike, was Canna’s sponsor at the rehab clinic. Veena’s new partner knew all of Canna’s history with drugs and self-abuse, and now he could tell Veena.
“I met Canna at the clinic, honey,” Michael said.
“Really?” Veena said. “You’re one of the losers who need therapy? What did you do? Michael only deals with the real drama queens and freak shows.”
Canna had nothing to say. For the first time in a while, she had no comeback for the drama unfolding before her eyes.
“Michael, darling,” Veena turned and said to him, “you will need to tell me all about Canna.”
“I can’t do that, you know the rules,” Michael replied.
“But do we want our baby…”
“Our baby?” Claudio cried. “The baby is mine!”
Veena ignored him. “Do you want our baby spending time here? It won’t be safe for our child to be near this whore.”
Michael looked up at Canna, and he could see panic in her eyes. Now her demons were going to hurt Claudio’s chances with his son.
“We should go,” Michael said. “We should only talk about arrangements with the lawyers.”
Without another word, Veena and Michael headed down the front steps and left in the direction of their car. Claudio and Canna stood frozen in the doorway. Canna felt so stunned that she didn’t move when Claudio shut the door; it almost hit her in the face, and she didn’t notice. “Kill me,” she muttered.
“Maybe we should move to New Zealand. How hard is it for a Spaniard become a kiwi?”
“Not that hard, New Zealand likes everyone.”
Suddenly, the threat of Yuri’s death seemed far away, trapped in the cold depths of Russia. This drama seemed just as cruel. “What are we going to do?”
Claudio shrugged. “I should admit defeat now. The last thing I need is a messy public divorce where all your secrets come out. That won’t help you recover.”
“Never mind me.” By the time the baby is born, I might be in prison.
Claudio went and sat on the couch, and Canna followed him. The moment she sat down, he burst into tears.
“Oh my God, sweetheart,” Canna said and threw her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”
“She can’t take the baby from me,” he said. He continued to silently sob and rested his head on Canna’s shoulder.
They sat in silence, but Canna knew what this was – it was the beginning of the end. The day would come when Canna would have to leave Claudio, for his own sake.
CHAPTER 26
LONDON
Two hours sleep. Canna felt grateful to get them. All night she lay in bed, wondering what came next. The incident with Yuri played itself over and over in her mind. He threatened her. He was disgusting. Vulgar. Canna should have had some guilt over killing him. Accident or no accident, Canna had swung that champagne bottle with intent to harm.
Murky dreams filled those two hours sleep. Yuri was there; so was Marino Bruni, her former lover
, the man that Giancarlo had forced into shooting himself in Rome. She heard Giuseppe’s voice while she slept. He would cover up a murder for her, to protect himself and his reputation. Three men dead inside a year; all linked to Canna. If she told the truth, would she feel better? No. Canna had stopped Yuri from hurting her, and other women. Canna wouldn’t have been the first woman he manipulated and harmed, but she would be the last.
Claudio slept fitfully next her; tossing and turning all night long, and always eager to have his arm around Canna. At least he got to sleep. As long as he had his arm around her, she resisted the temptation to go in search of a razorblade. Canna could cut herself somewhere easy to hide, between her toes perhaps; the pain would distract her from everything going on in her life. It would be a hell of a pain to suffer.
When daylight banished the night, Canna couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad thing. In the night, life seemed to be paused. Now, there were more problems to solve. The phone started at just after 9am. Lea. She probably had sat by the phone until 9am, since ringing earlier would be considered rude. Her dainty British manners gave her habits like that.
“Canna! There was a story about a murder in Russia on the news! Yuri died at his own party!”
“I know, I heard last night.”
“Canna, I’m sorry, I know he was a friend of yours.”
“It’s a shock, that’s for sure.”
“I know we were all meant to meet today for rehearsal for tomorrow’s show, but this seems to derail things.”
“Virtuosi has a whopping project to see through this weekend, murder or no murder.”
“I have to admit, it raises a lot of questions, tragedy aside, of course.”
“Would you like to come and talk?” Canna offered. “Everyone can come to my place. It can be an informal meeting instead of going into the office.”
“Okay. I will see if I can get that lazy-ass Erik out of bed.”
“He is a newlywed. You remember what that’s like.”
Lea giggled. “I do, just. I think Rebecca is staying at Dane’s so they should be easy to contact.”
Canna paused. Rebecca seemed to stay over at Dane’s quite often. Dane said that he wouldn’t ask her to move in; had things changed? “Let’s meet here for lunch.”
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