by Tania Carver
‘Yeah. And I gave you plenty of stuff. It put people away. But that wasn’t enough, was it? You wanted something more.’
‘So I took a few freebies.’
Her eyes hardened. ‘You took more than that.’
He stared at her. Tried not to let her words scare him. Got himself under control. ‘You want me to tell your new boyfriend all about it? About your old life?’
‘Fuck off.’ There was real anger behind Sophie’s hissed words. Then she sat back. Smiled. ‘Wonder if your new boss would be interested to hear about what you used to get up to? What you used to do to me instead of paying me the money you owed? What I had to do for you?’
Clayton’s eyes hardened. Fear gave way to the promise of violence. ‘Don’t.’
‘Then don’t fuck me about, either. Just as long as we both know where we stand.’
They sat there in silence, staring at each other.
‘What made you pick this place?’ said Clayton eventually. ‘Old times’ sake? Didn’t figure you for the sentimental type.’
Her eyes flashed with a dark fire. ‘You don’t know anything about me at all.’
Another silence. Sophie looked at her watch.
‘Can’t sit here all night,’ she said. ‘Got to go home soon.’
‘Bet he doesn’t like you being out on your own. Seems like the controlling type.’
Sophie said nothing. Clayton knew he had hit a nerve. He pressed on. ‘Right. We’ve been doing some diggin’. Want to know what we found?’
Sophie shrugged.
He struggled to conceal his excitement at what he was about to say. Back in control again. ‘I found out that when you used to be on the game, working for us, you knew someone we’re interested in.’
‘Who?’
‘Susie Evans.’
Sophie shrugged again. ‘So? Lots of working girls knew Susie Evans. I didn’t know her very well. She was low rent. I always aimed higher.’ She adjusted her top. ‘Besides, I’m out of the life now.’
‘So is she. She was murdered, remember? Course you do.
It was in all the papers.’
Sophie looked away, not wanting to match her eyes with his.
‘And there are similarities between her murder and Claire Fielding’s.Your boyfriend’s ex. Coincidence?’
‘Yeah,’ said Sophie. ‘Ryan never knew her.’
Clayton sat back. ‘How long have you been with Ryan?’
‘Couple of months. Went for a job at his firm.’
‘Really? Strange career progression. Why’d you do that?’
‘Had this boyfriend who was a metal merchant. Told me there was a vacancy. Put me up for it. Got the job, met Ryan, the boyfriend got the push.’
Clayton said nothing. The boyfriend was probably a client. He doubted Sophie was totally out of the game. ‘So you get the job and this boyfriend of yours gets an inside eye into another firm’s dealings.’
‘Except I started seeing Ryan and dumped him.’
‘The old boyfriend mustn’t have been very happy. What did he do? Go back to his wife?’
‘He never left her.’
Clayton allowed himself a small smile of triumph.
‘So now you’re with Ryan. And his girlfriend-’
‘Ex-girlfriend.’
‘All right. Ex-girlfriend, then. She winds up murdered. Same way as an old mate of yours.Your new boyfriend has a history of violence towards women, and with you in the middle there’s a connection between the two.’
Sophie said nothing.
‘Not only that…’ Clayton leaned forward, ready to play his ace. ‘You lied for him. He was out when the murder happened, wasn’t he? And you lied to us and told us you were with him.’
Sophie again said nothing.
Clayton sat back, pleased with himself, but slightly put out that she hadn’t responded. ‘So where was he?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Clayton studied her face. She wasn’t just holding out on him; there was something else. ‘You’re scared of him, aren’t you?’
He thought she would sit in silence again, but eventually she nodded.
‘You know what he’s done to other women and you’re scared he’ll do that to you.’
She nodded again. ‘Yes.’
Clayton’s voice carried a greater degree of warmth and concern than was perhaps professionally necessary. ‘Then why are you with him?’
‘He’s… a good bloke. Looks after me. Never want for anything.You know.’
Clayton knew.
‘And he’s… he’s not that bad. I know all that stuff with Claire, that got him down. But he’s over it now.’
Her voice sounded thin, her words hollow. ‘No he’s not, Sophie. And you don’t believe that either. You’re worried. I’m guessin’ he’s still obsessed with her. He was out when she was being murdered. And he won’t tell you where. Is that it?’
Another nod.
‘And that’s why you agreed to see me.’
‘Yes.’ She sighed.
‘So what happened? Where do you think he was?’
Sophie leaned forward. Clayton got a great view of her cleavage, but he wasn’t interested now. This was more important. This was work.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘He went out saying he had to meet someone. That it was business. When he got back, I was in bed. I heard the shower, then he came and joined me.’
‘Does he often go out on business?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘That late at night?’
She said nothing.
‘And does he always need a shower when he comes back?’ Silence.
‘And that’s what he said when you asked him about it? That it was business?’
She nodded. ‘I thought it was Claire at first. Because he’s…’ She sighed. ‘He’s not over her. The baby and everything. ’
‘He wanted her to get rid of it.’
‘So he said. But… I think it just scared him. The whole thing.’
‘He didn’t say anything else? About the baby? Give you… give you anything to go on?’
She frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’
He didn’t know whether to tell her. The fact of the baby’s disappearance had been kept out of the media. And she didn’t seem to know what he was talking about. He decided to leave it at that.
‘So you thought that’s where he was?’ he said, continuing with the questioning. ‘With Claire?’
‘I didn’t want to think that.’
‘Course not. What d’you think now?’
She didn’t answer. Instead she looked at her watch. ‘Shit, I’ve got to go. Take me home. We’ve got to go now.’ She stood up, grabbed her bag. Clayton stood also, placed a restraining hand on her arm.
‘Look, you don’t have to go. We can help you. Keep you safe if anythin’ happens.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘Yeah, heard that one before. Thanks.’
‘We can.’
‘Just take me home. And keep my past out of this.’
‘I’ll try, but-’
She turned to him, eyes alight with angry fire. ‘You’ll fuckin’ do it. If I’m keepin’ you out of this, you can do the same for me.’
Clayton sighed. ‘All right. I will.’
‘Good. Come on.’
She led him to the door. The barman watched them leave, eyes on her buttocks, lewd imagination written all over his face. Outside, the air had turned cold. Clayton pointed out his BMW to her.
‘Nice,’ she said. ‘Always thought you’d do well for yourself. ’
Clayton smiled, got in, Sophie beside him. He drove off as fast as he could.
24
‘ Mind where you walk,’ Phil said.
Marina didn’t need to be told. The blood in Claire Fielding’s apartment had dried to various shades of dark brown and black, but it was still unmistakably blood. And the carpet and walls of the hall were still covered in it. The earlier smell of dirty copper and spoiled meat had dissipated s
omewhat. But that didn’t make the scene any less horrific.
‘Oh God…’
Phil noticed Marina touch her stomach as she spoke.
There had been a tense silence in the car on the drive across town, the air thick with unspoken emotion. This was the first time they had been alone together since they had met again. They had nothing to say to each other, yet everything to say to each other. Not to mention the scene in the bar.
‘So,’ Phil had said to break the silence, ‘Fenwick hasn’t changed much, has he?’
Marina managed a small smile. ‘Wanker.’
‘Still, at least he made you feel welcome.’
Marina didn’t reply. Another silence, then: ‘Did you hit him? When you took him outside?’
Phil smiled. ‘You like that, do you? The thought of two men beating each other to a pulp over you?’
‘Defending my honour. And my professional integrity, of course.’
‘Of course I didn’t hit him. I took him away for his own protection. That famous Italian temper of yours was about to make its presence felt.’
She laughed. ‘And he would have deserved it. I felt like walking out.’
Phil kept his eyes on the road. ‘Glad you didn’t.’
The rest of the journey had taken place in silence.
‘You okay?’ Phil asked, back in the flat.
Marina didn’t turn round. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Your… stomach. Is it hurting?’
She still didn’t turn, but he saw her shoulders tense. Her hand dropped from her stomach. ‘No. Everything’s fine.’
‘This isn’t upsetting you?’
‘I’m hardcore.’
‘Well, as I remember-’
‘Shut it, Brennan. Concentrate.’ She looked at the blood. ‘So this was… Julie Simpson.’
‘Yeah,’ said Phil, glad to be able to focus on the case. ‘She must have answered the door. Judging by the way we found her and the wounds inflicted, he killed her straight away.’
Marina nodded, looked at the wall. She pointed. ‘Intercom,’ she said. ‘Videophone?’
Phil nodded.
‘If she knew them, she would have buzzed them up.’
‘Does that rule out or rule in Brotherton?’
Marina frowned. ‘I don’t know. Can’t see her letting him up.’
‘No,’ said Phil. ‘But perhaps the intercom didn’t go. Perhaps he was already in.’
‘Someone let him in and he was waiting? Planned, premeditated. It would fit.’
‘So there’s a knock at the door, say. Julie Simpson goes to answer it. Next thing…’
Marina nodded. She examined the walls in more detail, traced the arcs of dried blood with her finger. ‘Very decisive. She opens the door…’ She positioned herself in the doorway, taking the place of the attacker. ‘He looks at her, knows she’s not the one he wants – probably because she’s not pregnant – then…’ She scythed her arm in an arc, ending abruptly, sharply. ‘Cuts her. Gets rid of her.’ She looked at Phil. ‘What does that tell you? What does that say?’
Phil didn’t know if he was supposed to reply, or whether she was just using him as a sounding board. He ventured an answer. ‘Well, he… Julie Simpson wasn’t the primary target. So get her out of the way, move on.’
‘Exactly what I think. Get her out of the way. He didn’t knock her out, tie her up, anything like that. He didn’t paralyse her with his needle. He killed her. Straight away. No hesitation.’
‘So… she was just an obstacle,’ Phil said.
‘Just something between him and his goal.’
‘Claire Fielding.’
‘Claire Fielding’s baby,’ Marina corrected him. ‘If I’m right.’
‘If you’re right.’
‘So.’ She again took the position of the intruder, mimed the actions. ‘He slits her throat, drops her to the floor. Does he wait to see that she’s dead? No. It doesn’t matter. She can’t move, can’t call out. If she’s not dead yet, she’s as good as dead.’ Marina moved down the hallway. ‘Then he comes along here.’
‘Just a minute,’ said Phil. ‘Slits her throat and drops her… doesn’t see her as a person…’ Something was coming to him. Connections were being made. ‘Knife… Could this person work with animals?’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Well, a farmer. Not a vet, obviously. Or someone used to slaughtering livestock? In an abattoir, maybe?’
Marina smiled in admiration. ‘It’s a possibility. Well done. We’ll make a decent copper out of you yet.’
Phil couldn’t help returning the smile. ‘Right then. Off you go, and leave us professionals to get on with it.’
‘My work here is done.’
They both stood there, smiling, not speaking. Unspoken emotions again humming between them like high-tension wires.
Marina broke the silence. ‘Where was Claire Fielding?’ She walked to the end of the hallway, her voice once again businesslike, focused.
‘Here, we think,’ said Phil, picking up the lead from her voice, following her. He stopped at the end of the hallway, pointed to scuff marks on the wall. ‘Signs of a struggle here.’ There was a potted plant lying on its side. ‘Maybe he attacked her, knocked her into this.’ He examined the wall. ‘Not much damage, though.’
Marina joined him. ‘There wouldn’t be. If it’s the baby he was after, he wouldn’t want her harmed. Well, not too much.’ She looked round. ‘Then what?’
‘We found her in the bedroom. Tied to the bed and… well, you know the rest.’
Marina stopped walking, looked round again. ‘This is the living room, yes?’ she said, pointing towards the room on her right.
‘Yeah.’
‘So…’ She looked round again, examined every surface with her eyes, stretched out fingers.
‘It’s fine,’ Phil said. ‘Touch what you like. The lab boys have finished here.’
Marina nodded. ‘Is this room how you found it?’
‘More or less. Presents on the coffee table, not much disturbed. ’
‘So the living room wasn’t touched. He either knows the layout of this flat, or he’s supremely confident about what he wants and single-minded about how he’s going to achieve it.’
‘Which is it?’
She gave a small smile. ‘I don’t know, Phil. I’m not Derek Acorah.’
He laughed. ‘You’re better-looking, for a start.’
She closed her eyes, shook her head. ‘Stop it,’ she said. She looked irritated by his interruption, but a smile played round her lips. ‘Now concentrate. He must have had some contact with her. She wasn’t chosen at random. She was targeted, picked out for a purpose.’ She rubbed her hand across her mouth. It was something she did unconsciously when she was thinking. Phil smiled inwardly at the memory. It was an endearing trait, he thought. ‘But…’ She took her hand away. ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean she was intimate with him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, most killings like this are sexual in nature. And I don’t get a sexual feeling from this.’
Phil couldn’t stop himself smiling. ‘That’s reassuring.’
Marina blushed. ‘You know what I mean,’ she said, trying to cover her reddening face. Eventually she smiled too.
‘Right. So it’s not Brotherton, then?’
‘I don’t think so.’ She shook her head. ‘He doesn’t feel right. But… you never know. I may be wrong. It has been known.’
‘Not in my experience.’
‘Charmer.’
She looked at him once more and there was that connection again. She smiled, and as she did so, her features relaxed, tension leached from her body and her eyes became lit not just by warmth but by an inner light. It was a light Phil hadn’t seen for a long time. He moved towards her, smiling also.
‘Marina, I’ve…’
Suddenly the light was extinguished.The tension returned, like an invisible barrier had once again been erected.
‘Ple
ase, Phil,’ she said, her voice strong but not harsh. ‘Please. Don’t.’
‘But-’
‘Just don’t. Please.’
Phil felt exasperation build within him. He had to say something, whether she wanted to hear it or not. Whether she had given him permission to speak or not. ‘Listen, Marina. It’s been months now.You just-’
‘Phil, don’t. I can’t talk about it now. Please.’
‘But-’
‘No. We can’t – I can’t have this discussion now.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’ She pulled her coat around herself once more. Another barrier, thought Phil. Another shield. ‘I just can’t. Not at the moment.’
‘When, then?’
‘We will talk,’ she said. ‘But not yet.You’ll have to wait.’
‘For what?’
‘Until I’m ready.’
He just looked at her. She was irritating, she was a control freak, she was mouthy, she was arrogant. He sighed. She was beautiful, she was warm, she was witty, she was brilliant. He knew how he felt about her. It had never changed. He said nothing. Just nodded. He couldn’t blame her.
To take his mind off Marina, he looked once more round the flat. ‘Murder scenes always make me feel lonely,’ he said.
She looked at him, frowning, bemused.
The words surprised him. He didn’t know he had been thinking them and certainly wasn’t aware he was going to articulate them. Unsure as to why he was talking, he continued. ‘Yeah.’ He nodded, looking round. ‘Lonely. Depressing. I mean, beyond the obvious, you know.’
Marina seemed grateful for the change in subject and jumped on his words. ‘In what way?’
‘Well…’ He felt suddenly shy talking about it. But if there was anyone he could share an intimacy with, even a verbal one, it was Marina. Wherever they were at with each other. ‘It’s like… office buildings at night when the workers have left for the day. Or… theatres when the play’s finished and everyone’s gone home.’
‘When do you go to the theatre?’
He blushed. ‘You don’t know everything about me, you know.’
‘Clearly.’
‘But it is,’ he said, warming to his theme now. ‘You know in the theatre when they turn the stage lights off after a show and put the working ones on. To reset the stage and stuff. It’s really bleak. Depressing. Like the thing that gave the place life, the play, the actors, the audience, whatever, has gone. And you’re still there. And you shouldn’t be, you should have gone with them. But you are there, on your own, and you’ve got to keep going.’