by Roberta Kray
Eve smiled, before gently disentangling herself. ‘It’s okay, Son. I’m all right. A cup of tea would be good, though. If you don’t mind.’ She looked at Raynor. ‘Is that possible?’
‘You finished through there?’ he asked one of the officers.
The man nodded.
Sonia hesitated a moment before retreating. She didn’t like coppers at the best of times and this particular specimen with his cool efficiency and smart grey suit wasn’t about to alter her opinion. She glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, love. I won’t be long.’
Eve smiled at her again but as soon as she was out of earshot, she turned and asked, ‘Do you think it was kids?’
‘Hard to say.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps you could have a look around, see if you can spot anything that’s missing.’
She tried to concentrate. The most obvious things, the portable TV and the mini CD player, were still there, although both had been broken. The TV had a long crack running the width of the screen. His small collection of CDs were scattered across the floor. The focus of the attack seemed to be on his desk. It wasn’t that long since she’d tidied it but now every drawer had been pulled out and emptied, the papers scattered. Had they been searching for money?
She frowned. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’
The spare room, the room she’d been sleeping in, had been barely touched. Not surprising as it was almost empty. She had learned to travel as lightly as her father. But the bed had been disturbed, the single mattress lifted to check underneath, and then carelessly dropped back down.
They progressed to the master bedroom where her father’s clothes were lying, crumpled, on the bed. It was obvious that someone had been through all the pockets. There was one suit in particular that attracted her attention, a dark blue pinstripe that he had worn to Terry’s trial. She felt a lump forming in her throat. Instinctively, she leaned over to touch it but then remembering Raynor’s earlier instruction quickly drew back.
‘Perhaps they were looking for something in particular,’ he suggested.
‘Like what?’
He shrugged again. ‘What do you think?’
But she couldn’t say what she thought. Now that the shock was beginning to wear off, it was being replaced by a different but no less disturbing feeling: a suspicion that this was something to do with Cavelli. Was it really a coincidence that on the day she’d gone to visit him, when he’d made it so perfectly clear that he knew too much about her, this had happened? She had a debt to pay. Perhaps this was some kind of warning or threat.
One of the officers put his head round the door. ‘We’re off now, guv.’
Raynor raised a hand. ‘I’ll see you back at the station.’
Then Sonia arrived with two mugs of tea. She passed one to Eve but dumped the other, unceremoniously, on the chest of drawers. She glared at Raynor. ‘There’s sugar, if you want it, in the kitchen. So, is that it? Can we get on with the clearing up?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I just need a few more minutes with Ms Weston.’
Sonia put her hand on her hip and waited.
‘In private,’ he stressed.
As if Raynor might bring out the thumb screws as soon as she was out of sight, she shot a furtive glance at Eve. ‘I can stay if you want.’
‘No,’ she insisted. ‘It’s fine. Really. And thanks for the tea.’
‘I’ll be next door when you’re ready. Just give me a knock.’
They headed back to the kitchen although it wasn’t sugar Eve was after. She needed a drink. Incredibly, although all the cupboards had been turned out, the bottle of brandy was still intact. ‘There’s the first clue,’ she said, forcing a laugh. ‘Our burglar’s teetotal.’ But her hand trembled as she reached for a glass. ‘Would you like one?’
He sat down with his tea. ‘Thanks, but no.’
She poured herself a large one and took a chair on the opposite side of the table. Compared to the living room, the kitchen wasn’t in too bad a state. The drawers had been emptied but, as there hadn’t been much in them, the mess was minimal.
‘What time did you leave today?’ Raynor asked.
She thought back. ‘It must have been about half-twelve.’
‘And where did you go?’
Eve frowned at him. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ But then, seeing his brows lift, she decided to come clean. ‘Okay. I went to Hillgrove Prison. My brother’s serving a short sentence there. Terry Weston.’ It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Until she found out what was going on, she intended to keep Cavelli’s name out of it.
Raynor didn’t seem surprised by the information. He made a brief note in his pad. Then he flipped back a page. ‘And this is your late father’s flat, right? Alexander Weston.’
It seemed like everyone wanted to say his name today. She sighed into her glass. ‘It’s rented,’ she explained. ‘It’s cheap and close to the jail. I thought I’d stay for a while. Terry might want to take on the lease when he comes out.’
He sat back and looked at her, twisting the pen between his fingers. ‘And he kept nothing of value here? No large amounts of cash or jewellery? No share certificates or bonds?’
Eve wasn’t sure what alerted her, something rather too casual in his tone perhaps. But she was suddenly certain that Raynor, just like Cavelli, was well aware of Alex Weston’s dubious past. Not that surprising – he was a policeman after all – but then again, her father was hardly on the list of Interpol’s most wanted.
‘Inspector, I can guess where this is going but you’re way off the mark. He hasn’t been in trouble for years. He was the kind of man, as I’m sure you’re aware, whose fortunes tended to fluctuate.’ Glancing over her shoulder, she made a loose sweeping motion with her hand. ‘As you can see, he was hardly on an upward curve.’
‘I wasn’t meaning to suggest …’
‘That he was involved in anything illegal?’ She took a sip of brandy and grinned. ‘Perish the thought.’
After a slight hesitation, Raynor’s lips curled into a smile. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sure this is the last thing you need at the moment.’
He had a pleasant smile. In fact, now she came to really look at him, he had a number of other quite favourable attributes: good cheekbones, a firm jaw, and a pair of rather compelling blue eyes. With his shock of blond hair, he reminded her a little of her ex-husband Patrick. Shame he was a cop. ‘It’s okay. You’re just doing your job, right?’
‘For my sins,’ he replied.
And you don’t believe it was kids who did this, do you?’
He hesitated. ‘It’s doubtful. If you want my honest opinion, I’d say …’ He paused again.
‘Go on,’ she urged.
‘From what I’ve seen, I still think they were searching for something specific.’
Eve shook her head. That didn’t make any sense. If there had been anything valuable in the flat, he wouldn’t have left it for burglars to find. No, she was more inclined to go with her own theory – that Martin Cavelli was exerting his authority.
Raynor scraped back his chair and stood up. ‘Well, if you think of anything that might be useful …’ Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a wallet and removed a card. He dropped it on the table.
She saw him to the door.
He hovered on the threshold for a while. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘I’ll survive,’ she said.
He nodded and began to walk off down the corridor. As he reached the stairs, he turned around and called back: ‘Just make sure you get that lock fixed.’
Eve woke to the sound of the phone ringing. She flicked on the lamp, dragged her wrist out from under the duvet and peered at her watch. Eight thirty. Who was calling at this time? With all the clearing up, she hadn’t got to bed until after two. With a grunt she buried her head back under a pillow. Whoever it was could wait.
Five minutes later it started ringing again. She ignored it.
Two minutes later it was going again. Groaning, she crawled out of bed, and stumbled into the living room. The curtains were still drawn. She had to fumble around the sofa until she eventually found the small round table. She scrabbled for the phone. ‘Yes?’
There was a short pause. ‘Eve?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Martin.’
She muttered her incomprehension down the line. ‘Huh?’
‘Martin Cavelli.’
Eve was kick-started into consciousness. ‘Oh, right.’ And as if he could see her, she instantly stood up straight and gathered together the unbuttoned front of her night-shirt. ‘Sorry. Hi.’
‘Did I wake you?’
‘No. Yes. Well, kind of. Bit of a late one.’
‘Lucky for you,’ he said. ‘I was wondering why you hadn’t rung Paula.’
Her jaw fell open. Oh God! Paula. She’d forgotten all about her. After the events of yesterday, she’d gone clean out of her head. ‘Actually, there’s a bit of a problem there.’
‘A problem,’ he repeated sourly.
She was tempted to make a snide remark, maybe one relating to the trauma of having your dead father’s home turned upside down. But she kept it civil. ‘The flat was broken into.’
‘What?’
He sounded surprised but she wasn’t convinced. He’d had all night to work on that innocent one-word response. ‘They wrecked the place,’ she said, ‘while I was out visiting you. So, I can’t see any way of getting to London today.’
‘Why not?’
She glared down into the receiver, inwardly noting how he hadn’t asked, Did they take much? like any normal person would. But then Cavelli was hardly ‘normal’ and there was every chance he already knew the answer. ‘I’m still clearing up. And it’s not safe now, is it? I thought you wanted your things to be secure.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said.
‘I am worried. I don’t want—’ But the phone line was already dead. She put it back in the cradle and waited. A minute passed, then two. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to ring again, she went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on.
Sitting at the table with a strong mug of coffee, she replayed the conversation in her head. Well, she had the minor consolation of knowing that if he had been responsible for the breakin, he’d just shot himself in the foot. She smiled. But then again, if Cavelli wanted his ‘packages’ so badly, why would he do that? Her moment of satisfaction soon faded. No, it didn’t add up. Nothing added up about this breakin. She hadn’t been able to find a single item missing. Lots of stuff broken or damaged but that was all.
By nine thirty she was washed and dressed and starting to get anxious. It was an hour since she’d last heard from him. Why hadn’t he called back? Pacing from one side of the living room to the other, she raked her fingers through her hair, regretting her earlier decision. She shouldn’t have been so hasty. What if he saw her failure to go to London today as breaking her side of the bargain? He didn’t strike her as the type to accept extenuating circumstances as a reasonable excuse.
She found her jacket, rooted in the pocket and pulled out the number for Paula. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. The flat could wait. With Sonia’s help, she had cleared the worst of the mess. It still needed a good clean but other than that there was only her father’s desk left to sort and the books to line back up on the shelves. And she could survive without the TV for another night. Except that wasn’t really what was bothering her. It was more the idea of going out and leaving the place empty again. What if she got back and found …
Well, she’d have to take that chance.
Eve dialled the number and listened. The phone rang five times before switching to an answering machine. A sultry voice said invitingly: ‘Hi, this is Paula. Leave a message and I might get back to you.’
She listened to the beeps but then hung up. What was the point? Cavelli must have already rung to tell her that she wasn’t coming. Then, as quickly as she’d made the decision, she instantly revised it. Paula could be in the shower or just screening her calls. She had to leave a message. That way, at least, she could honestly claim that she’d tried.
Eve raised the phone to her ear again but was interrupted by a series of short sharp knocks on the door. She jumped. Who was that? Definitely not Sonia. For a few nervy seconds she stood holding her breath. Then, giving herself a mental shake, she replaced the receiver. What was the matter with her? It was hardly the hour for any would-be intruder to come calling.
She strode across the hallway and opened the door to a short apple-cheeked man with a bulky holdall at his feet. ‘Hi. Miss Weston, is it?’ he said cheerily. ‘I’m Barry.’
She smiled faintly.
‘Come to sort the locks,’ he said. ‘Not too early for you, is it?’
Eve looked at the brand-new mortise that had been fitted the night before. ‘Are you from …?’ She tried to recall the name of the company she had called yesterday but couldn’t. They were just a random number she’d plucked from the directory. ‘I’m sorry but I think there’s been a mistake. You’ve been out already. It’s been fixed.’
‘Fixed?’ he said. He gazed down at the bright new lock. After a brief examination, he made one of those sounds redolent of all British workmen, a kind of low despairing sigh that formed in the back of his throat and slowly leaked out through his lips. ‘I wouldn’t say that exactly.’
She frowned at him.
He shrugged. ‘We’re hardly talking Fort Knox here.’
Eve was beginning to wonder if she’d ever actually woken up this morning. Perhaps this was one of those insanely mad dreams where you kept on thinking you were awake when you weren’t. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why—’
Before she had any further chance to object, he’d already stepped forward, placed himself securely in the hall, and whipped out a tape measure. ‘It’s not the lock that’s the problem, you see. It’s the door.’ He rapped his knuckles smartly against the wood. ‘You hear that? Flimsy as shit – if you’ll pardon my French. You can put as many locks as you like on this, love, but it’s not going to make a damn bit of difference.’
She took a step back. ‘Look, I don’t—’
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I know you’re busy. Martin told me what happened. You just get on with what you need to do. Don’t worry about me.’
‘Martin,’ she murmured.
His rosy cheeks bunched as he gave her a smile. ‘Yeah. He did tell you I was coming, didn’t he?’
Eve faltered but then turned away. ‘I’ll make you a brew’ She didn’t want Barry to see her face, to catch the conflicting emotions passing over it. There was too much to read. She felt relief that Cavelli hadn’t called off the deal, anger at his presumption that he could fortify her flat at will, and fear that he felt the need to. What was really in those packages? Nothing illegal, he’d said, but that was beginning to seem doubtful.
Going through to the kitchen, she put the kettle on again and waited for it to boil. Although she wanted to pace, she forced herself to stay still. Perhaps she should have stood her ground and sent Barry away. But then where would that leave Terry? No, she didn’t have a choice. For the time being she had to stick with the cards she’d been dealt.
From the window she could see the alley that ran between this small block and the next, a dank litter-covered passage that led eventually to the supermarket car park. She looked down on a man’s head, on the bald ring in its centre, a perfect circle like a monk’s tonsure. He was walking carefully, side-stepping the puddles. She idly followed his progress until he was out of sight.
When Eve went back into the living room, she found that another two guys had arrived. She wondered how Cavelli had managed to conjure up a trio of workmen at sixty minutes’ notice, but preferred not to ask. A new door, so heavy and solid that it might have come straight out of HMP Hillgrove, was propped up in the corridor.
‘That should do
the trick,’ Barry said, grinning. ‘What do you reckon?’
She reckoned it was the kind of extreme defence that worried gangsters favoured – but that it was also wise to keep her opinion private. She smiled. ‘Looks good to me.’ She passed him his mug of tea.
‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘Ta.’
She was about to politely extend the offer of refreshments when a voice stridently demanded: ‘What’s going on here? What are you doing?’
Sonia suddenly appeared between the three of them, squeezing her way through. ‘Oh, Eve. You’re here. Thank God!’ She laid a hand against her breast. ‘I thought … I didn’t realize. I heard the noise and—’
‘It’s okay. They’re just fixing the door.’
Confused, she stared at her. ‘But you only had a new lock put on last night.’
‘Yes, but …’ Eve tried to think of a rational explanation as to why she was apparently erecting an anti-riot barricade but failed to come up with anything feasible. Instead, she smiled broadly at the newcomers and said: ‘I guess you two wouldn’t mind a brew either?’
‘Wouldn’t say no,’ one of them answered.
‘Come on, then,’ she said, grabbing Sonia by the arm, ‘let’s get out of their way.’
Back in the kitchen, she refilled the kettle and took another three mugs from the hooks on the wall. ‘Would you like one?’
‘What’s going on?’ Sonia asked again. She had taken a seat but was still glancing over her shoulder.
Eve kept her back to her, busying herself with the mugs and the tea bags. She wanted to tell her the truth but she couldn’t. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘I’m just being paranoid, I guess. They had a special offer on – new door, cheap price, a bit more security, and after yesterday, well, I just thought …’
Sonia sighed sympathetically. ‘Oh love, you didn’t have to do that. It was only kids. I’m sure it won’t happen again.’
Eve wished she felt as confident. But she didn’t. ‘Yeah, I know’ She went to the fridge and got out the milk. Before she might be tempted to confide, she hurriedly made the extra teas and rushed them through to the room next door.