The Last Girl

by Casey, Jane

  ‘You’re here to find out what happened between me and Philip Kennford, is that right?’

  ‘More or less. We’re trying to build a picture of his life and that means speaking to people who know him.’ I hesitated. ‘And who knew his wife.’

  ‘Her? I didn’t know her. I met her once.’ The faintest trace of amusement was visible on her face for a moment. ‘We didn’t get along too well.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘And I heard she’s dead.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? You’ve heard that we had an argument and you want to know if I am responsible for killing her.’

  ‘Well, are you?’ I was amused and a little surprised by how direct she was.

  ‘Of course not. It was months ago that I argued with her. I haven’t seen him since then and I don’t want to.’ The pretty mouth snapped closed in what could only be described as a pout.

  ‘You understand that we have to ask you about it, don’t you? We need to find people who disliked Vita Kennford – who might have had a reason to kill her, and her daughter. And you do have a motive for murdering the first if not the second.’

  She laughed. ‘Why would I have waited until now?’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t have the opportunity before. Maybe you needed to plan.’

  ‘What is there to plan? You know people who can take care of that sort of thing, or you don’t.’ An expressive shrug. ‘Of course, I don’t.’

  ‘Of course,’ I agreed. All charges had been dropped halfway through her trial, I reminded myself. But that had been lack of evidence and some creative arguing from Kennford rather than being because of her shining innocence. I’d reserve my judgement for the time being.

  ‘And of course I didn’t want her to die. But if you are looking for people who disliked her, you will have to make a list of everyone she met. She was not a pleasant person.’

  ‘Where did you meet her?’ Derwent asked, not having been privy to Kit’s description of their encounter. He had chosen a low armchair and now looked as if he regretted it since Niele hadn’t sat down. She had taken up a position leaning against the wall, looking like a Vogue model.

  ‘At his flat in Clerkenwell. She threw me out.’

  ‘Were you staying there?’

  ‘He’d asked me to move in with him.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I should never have said yes. I thought it would be better than sharing a house. He thought it would be better than sharing a house. He said this was like being a student again and he’d left those days behind him.’

  ‘Do you have many housemates?’

  ‘A few.’ On cue, footsteps thudded across the floor upstairs, just over my head. ‘They come and go.’

  ‘Who are they?’ Derwent asked.

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘I’m curious.’

  ‘Curiosity kills the cat. That’s the expression, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m more of a dog man.’

  The amusement was back in her eyes. ‘They’re people from home. This is a good place to stay when you first come to the UK. Then they find work, move on.’

  ‘But you stay.’

  ‘It’s convenient.’

  ‘It’s a nice area,’ Derwent lied.

  ‘Not really. But it suits me.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I don’t expect too much.’

  ‘A girl like you should expect nothing but the best.’

  Derwent was looking soulful. I suppressed my gag reflex for long enough to ask, ‘How long have you lived here?’

  ‘Three years, off and on.’

  ‘So long?’ I was surprised. The room was stacked with cardboard boxes in one corner, and the walls were bare. The furniture didn’t match and there wasn’t a lot of it anyway. It had the feeling of a temporary arrangement. ‘It doesn’t look as if anyone’s unpacked properly.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me. I’m not interested. I spend a lot of time out, at work or seeing friends.’

  ‘What do you do for a living, Niele?’

  ‘I’m an administrator.’

  ‘What kind of administrator?’

  ‘Office manager, I suppose.’

  ‘What’s the office?’

  ‘I’m not working at the moment. I’m looking for a new position.’

  Convenient, I thought, not believing her in the least. She was about to learn that evasive answers generated more questions. ‘Where was the last place you worked?’

  ‘It closed down. Very sad. Lots of people lost their jobs.’

  ‘What was the business?’

  ‘A Lithuanian one.’

  ‘Selling …’ I prompted.

  ‘Transporting goods across Europe. Freight.’ She looked bored. ‘I don’t really know much about that side of things. I just looked after the office.’

  ‘How are you managing for money if you’re not working?’

  ‘I have savings. And I do temping.’

  ‘With an agency?’

  ‘It’s casual work. Now and then.’

  ‘What do you do in the evenings? I can’t imagine you like to hang out here.’

  I resisted the urge to glare at Derwent but I wasn’t satisfied that I’d heard anything like the full story about where she had worked and what her job had been, and if it had been up to me she wouldn’t have been allowed off the hook so easily. Then again, I wasn’t as concerned with her social life as my boss apparently was.

  ‘I do whatever I choose.’ She looked around the room. ‘But I don’t stay here, you’re right. I prefer to go out.’

  ‘Boyfriend?’

  ‘Frequently, yes. But not at the moment.’

  I was waiting for Derwent to ask her out but belatedly he remembered what we were supposed to be doing there.

  ‘How many people live here?’

  ‘At the moment, five.’

  ‘How many men?’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘Routine question. How many men?’

  ‘Four.’

  ‘You’re the only woman?’

  ‘Yes. But that doesn’t bother me.’ I waited to see if she’d say it. I could have mouthed it along with her, even if I couldn’t have managed the sensuous movement of her body that accompanied it. ‘I’ve always got on better with men.’

  ‘Any romances?’

  ‘I prefer English men.’

  To give him his due, Derwent only blushed a little bit. ‘Can you give me your housemates’ names?’

  ‘I could. Do I have to?’

  ‘It’ll make us a bit suspicious of them if you don’t.’

  ‘I can’t help your suspicions.’ She allowed herself a tiny smile. ‘But I don’t want to get anyone else in trouble.’

  ‘They’re not in trouble. I just want to know who lives here.’

  ‘Curious again?’

  ‘It’s an occupational hazard.’

  She shook her head. ‘I thought this was about Philip Kennford.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘So why are you asking me about the people I live with? Ask me about him.’

  There was a very good reason for us to ask her about the people she lived with; we were sitting ducks in her small front room if any of them wished us harm. I didn’t like not knowing who else was in the house and I could tell Derwent felt the same way. We were on their territory, at their mercy, and Niele Adamkuté had certainly known criminals, once upon a time. The others who were on trial with her had been convicted. I was pretty sure that if the person stomping about upstairs didn’t have a criminal record, that was nothing more than an oversight on our part.

  Derwent wasn’t about to give any of that away. Instead, he gave her the little-boy cheeky grin. ‘I suppose it’s just force of habit, but we do like asking questions.’

  ‘Ask me about Philip.’

  ‘We’ll get to that.’

  ‘That’s all I’m going to talk about.’ There was something very stubborn about the set of her jaw that told me she mean
t it. Derwent spotted it too.

  ‘Okay. Mr Kennford. Tell us about him.’

  ‘He took advantage of me. He made a fool of me.’ It would have been more convincing if she had been more like a victim, but Niele Adamkuté didn’t strike me as anyone’s fool.

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Last year. Nine – no, ten months ago.’ She smiled to herself. ‘I hadn’t thought it was so long, but it was.’

  ‘How did you meet?’

  ‘I was arrested and charged with money laundering because of some work I did for a friend. It was all a big mistake.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘My friend was very sorry that I was in trouble because of the work I had done for him, so he didn’t want me to have legal aid. He got me a very good solicitor who hired Philip to represent me in court because he was supposed to be the best person for the job.’

  ‘But from what I’ve heard, it worked out all right. You got off,’ I pointed out.

  She shrugged. ‘There was no evidence. That was all he had to say, that there was no evidence. He sat there in court for days during the prosecution case and he didn’t do anything. Then he stood up and told the judge I had to be allowed to leave, and the judge agreed. He got thousands of pounds and he did nothing.’

  ‘At least you weren’t paying.’

  She made an extraordinary noise, pure contempt. ‘There is always a payment, even when someone does something for you as a gift, or because they feel an obligation.’

  ‘Sounds sinister,’ Derwent observed.

  ‘Not at all. It’s how the world goes.’

  ‘So you weren’t impressed with Kennford’s work – but you ended up having an affair with him and moving into his flat. How did that happen?’

  ‘I was stupid.’ She looked grave. ‘I was so pleased to be let go free, I went out for dinner with him. It was a very nice restaurant, very smart. Lots of celebrities go there. Hollywood stars, not TV.’ I appreciated the fine distinction. ‘And I drank a little bit too much. Besides, he is very charming when he wants to be, no?’

  ‘And well-off. And handsome.’

  ‘Not really attractive. Old. But yes, he acted as if he was rich. He asked me to come to his flat, so he could show me where he lived. I thought it wouldn’t matter if I did. I thought it would be fun.’ She looked at Derwent again. ‘I like fun, you know?’

  ‘I can imagine.’ His ears had gone red.

  ‘His flat was very nice. I spent the night there.’ A little shrug. ‘That was okay too. But I didn’t think it would become anything important. He told me he would get in trouble if anyone found out. But then, I think he liked that.’

  ‘Thrill-seeker, isn’t he. Mind you, I don’t think anyone would need too many reasons to want to be with you, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Gallantry, from Derwent. I marvelled, but kept it to myself.

  ‘You are very kind.’ Her eyes rested on me for a second and I had the impression she wished I wasn’t there. Which probably made two of them. I sat back in the sofa, very definitely not going anywhere.

  ‘You didn’t think it would turn into anything, but it did, is that right?’ Derwent asked.

  ‘We started to see one another, when we could. Mostly at his place. Once here, because I wanted him to see how I lived.’ She laughed, showing a completely unexpected dimple. ‘I knew he would hate it here. That’s when he asked me to move in with him.’

  ‘Which you did.’

  ‘But I should have said no. He didn’t like it that I was there all the time, once he had given me a key. He said it was like having two wives.’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘And how did you feel?’ I asked.

  ‘I didn’t like it either. I like being independent. I had to ask him if I wanted to do anything. I had to be careful that no one saw me there, because he has friends who live in the same building. I wasn’t allowed to answer the telephone or the door. It was like being kidnapped or something. Always hiding.’ She shuddered. ‘Not worth it.’

  ‘So when did it come to an end?’

  ‘When I told him I was pregnant.’

  ‘Was it true?’ Derwent asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. I wouldn’t tell a lie about that. I was pregnant, with his child. I told him he needed to decide what to do. He could divorce his wife and marry me, or he could give me money.’

  ‘To look after the child.’ Derwent sounded deeply understanding.

  A pitying expression came over her face. ‘To look after me.’

  ‘You mean you’d have got rid of it.’

  ‘I don’t like children. I would have had it if he had wanted it, but he had to prove that by marrying me. Without a proper commitment, I wasn’t going to go through with it. Too easy for him to say yes, I want you to have it, I’ll love it and look after you both. Then there is nothing to stop him from walking away. And I am left with a baby and no figure, no money, no one to look after it.’ She shuddered. ‘No. I was stupid, but not that stupid.’

  ‘What did Kennford say?’

  ‘He said he couldn’t divorce his wife. He couldn’t afford to because she had all the money and he wouldn’t get any of it if he left her. He said he couldn’t pay me, either. He told me I had to have the baby and have a DNA test to make sure it was his. Then he would give me an allowance for the child.’ She snorted. ‘I didn’t agree.’

  ‘You didn’t have the baby.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She looked at Derwent as if the idea was completely insane. ‘I told him I wouldn’t leave the flat until he gave me money to have an abortion and to make up for what he had done to me, or I would go to his wife and ask her for the payment I wanted.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He laughed. He told me she wouldn’t leave him, even if I told her about our affair. He said I had a week to get out.’ She folded her arms, which had the added advantage of maximising her cleavage. Somehow, though, I thought she had lost quite a lot of her charm as far as Derwent was concerned. He tended towards sentimentality when it came to mothers and babies, I’d noticed, and all of this hard-headed negotiation would be a major turn-off for him. ‘I told him I wouldn’t leave without my money and I couldn’t get rid of the baby unless he paid me. Of course, I had already arranged for the termination but he didn’t know that.’

  ‘But he wasn’t worried about having another child,’ I said. ‘Or was it brinksmanship?’ Niele looked blank and I realised her excellent English didn’t include that word. ‘I mean that he was pretending not to care about whether the baby was born or not so you couldn’t blackmail him, but actually he did care.’

  ‘I don’t think he really minded another baby. He said he hoped it was a boy, if it was his, because he didn’t have a son. And it was his,’ she added. ‘I was sure of that. But I was also sure it wouldn’t be born, so it didn’t matter.’

  I thought of Kennford’s daughters and how casual he seemed about them, and wondered if there were others scattered around the world. He was the type to like the idea of lots of descendants, a true alpha male intent on scattering his seed. In the case of Niele, it had fallen on very stony ground indeed.

  ‘What happened at the end of the week?’

  ‘He got some men to come.’ She looked affronted. ‘All of my things, they shoved them in bags and threw them in the street. I had to go too, or everything would have been stolen, and besides, they pushed me out. It was humiliating. I didn’t think he would cause a scene like that, but he didn’t seem to care any more.’

  ‘And you retaliated,’ I said. She looked cagey. ‘Don’t worry, we aren’t interested in the details of that. It wasn’t reported to the police so there’s no crime to investigate.’

  ‘Some friends helped me. They were angry about what Philip had done to me. How he had behaved. They knew where I had been living so they went around there and … made it not so comfortable for him.’

  At her invitation, I was pretty sure. She acted like a fragile waif who needed protecting, but I didn’t really believ
e in all of these ‘friends’ who came to her aid when she needed it. She had whistled up some Baltic muscle and they’d done the dirty work for her.

  ‘They trashed the place, I gather.’

  ‘Maybe. I didn’t see it afterwards.’

  ‘But you went there, because that’s where you met Mrs Kennford.’

  ‘That was when I was most glad I had got rid of the baby. Imagine, the coward, he arranges for me to come and see him so he can pay me. Then he tells his wife to meet him there at the same time, and to bring her cheque book to pay for the repairs. She and I meet on the doorstep, but he never shows up. He knew she would see me. He knew we would talk. He knew she would pay me the money I wanted. He is a horrible, weak man, and if you want to know if he killed his wife, I say no, because he wouldn’t have the courage.’ She wound up with a volley of what I assumed was Lithuanian. It was also a fairly safe assumption that it mostly consisted of swearwords, given her overall demeanour.

  ‘Calm down.’

  I wondered if Derwent had ever found those two words to be effective in dealing with an angry woman. They certainly weren’t now.

  ‘I will not. I was so upset with him, and so was she. But she stood up for him. Her marriage is more important, her children need their father, on and on and on, and she offered me twice or three times what I had asked for.’

  ‘What did you settle on in the end?’

  ‘I don’t want to say. More than I had hoped.’

  ‘Worked out well for you, didn’t it? Was it your first time to try a bit of blackmail, or is this a regular part of your income?’

  ‘It wasn’t blackmail. It was a gift from her to me.’

  ‘You said she wasn’t a pleasant person,’ I reminded her. ‘That doesn’t suggest someone who was being generous for the sake of it.’

  She pulled a face. ‘She was mean. She told me I was a whore and out to get what I could. She blamed me for her husband having an affair, instead of thinking about what she should have been doing to make him happy. She was aggressive from the start, when she didn’t need to be. As far as I was concerned there were arrangements to be made, but I didn’t want a fight with anyone. She wanted to keep me away from her husband and protect her family, so it was worth a few thousand pounds to her. She told me it meant nothing to her, she wouldn’t miss it, so I might as well take it. But you could see she thought I was awful to get rid of the baby – she went on and on about her daughters. The twins, the twins, they mustn’t know about their father.’ She laughed, sounding genuinely amused. ‘Just think, if I’d gone ahead with it, I’d have a baby now. Here. Imagine! I had forgotten, truthfully, until you asked me how long ago it was.’