The Burning

by Jane Casey

  ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘With every nerve-ending.’ He was wearing a dark-blue pinstripe suit and a white shirt, collar open. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi yourself.’

  ‘Were you at work?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Where’s your tie?’

  ‘In my pocket.’ He showed me. ‘You never stop trying to work things out, do you?’

  ‘I like to know what’s going on.’ I paused for a second. ‘It’s still Monday, isn’t it?’

  ‘Still Monday.’ He checked his watch – a Rolex Oyster that had cost him a fortune. A rich boy’s toy, when I had a cheap Sekonda that my parents had given me for Christmas one year. I’d seen his watch a million times, but suddenly I couldn’t take my eyes off it. ‘It’s twenty past seven. Visiting hours are over at eight, I’m afraid, so I won’t be able to stay for long. I got here as soon as I could.’

  I gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘You had to work. I understand.’

  ‘Yeah. You know all about needing to work, don’t you?’ He was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. He ran a finger down my cheek. ‘Pretty.’

  ‘You always say that when I’m looking hideous,’ I said, suspicious.

  ‘Not at all. All the colours of the rainbow.’

  ‘Oh. My face.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He stood by the bed, his hands in his pockets. ‘Do you want anything?’

  ‘Like what?’

  He shrugged. ‘Grapes? That’s the traditional gift, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not hungry.’ My mouth was cotton dry. ‘Actually, is there any water?’

  He poured a glass from a plastic jug on the bedside locker, and helped me sit up a little to drink it. The effort made the room spin and I collapsed back onto the pillows with a groan.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Not just at the moment, but give me time.’

  He was looking concerned and I felt a rush of affection for him – he was a good person, really.

  ‘You were right, weren’t you? Policing did turn out to be a bit dangerous.’

  He laughed. ‘Is now a good time to say I told you so?’

  ‘There’s no good time to say I told you so.’ I gathered my courage and plunged on. ‘Just like there’s no good time to say it’s over between us. It’s just not working out, is it?’

  His smile faded away. ‘Maeve …’

  ‘You’re not going to say it because I’m weak and injured, but it’s true. What we had was great, as far as it went, but it’s not going anywhere. We’re too different. We want different things.’

  ‘When did you decide this?’ His expression was neutral and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  ‘I’ve had a bit of time to think, for once, but it’s been coming for a while. And you feel the same, don’t you?’ I knew the answer was yes; he didn’t even have to say it. And I knew I was doing the right thing.

  ‘Is this because of your near-death experience? Life’s too short not to look for Mr Right?’

  ‘Honestly, no. It’s more that I think we both deserve to be happier than we’ve been lately. And I don’t think I can make you happy, Ian.’

  He didn’t argue with me. Instead, he said, ‘You don’t have to move out straightaway. You’re in no condition to go flat-hunting.’

  ‘You don’t want me convalescing in your flat – I’d just get in your way. Besides, Mum and Dad want me to go home.’

  He pulled a face. ‘If you’re OK with that …’

  ‘It’s fine. Really. It will be relaxing,’ I lied. I really couldn’t make myself sound convinced, though.

  ‘Right. Well, there’s no hurry. Take your time. Let yourself get better before you start dashing around again. You push yourself too hard.’

  I smiled. ‘I’m glad you don’t mind.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Ian’s voice was gentle. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out. But I can’t say you’re wrong about it.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. No hard feelings.’

  ‘Definitely not,’ he agreed.

  I put out my hand and he took it, holding it for a moment in both of his. There was a knock on the door before it opened a few inches and Rob poked his head around. He saw us holding hands and immediately began to reverse.

  ‘Sorry. I’ll come back.’

  ‘Wait!’ Ian and I said at the same time and Rob stopped.

  ‘I’d better go.’ Ian laid my hand back down on the bed. ‘I’ll see you soon. Do you want me to make a start on packing up your stuff?’

  ‘Don’t bother. My mother will love the opportunity to have a good snoop through my things,’ I said sleepily. ‘I might as well get her to do something useful.’

  He winced. ‘Right. I might arrange to be out while she’s there.’

  ‘Wimp.’ I grinned. ‘I don’t actually blame you. Every time she comes to see me, my blood pressure goes up. The doctors are always convinced I’m having a relapse.’

  Ian bent and kissed my cheek lightly, his lips barely grazing my skin. ‘Feel better soon.’ He turned and walked quickly to the door, saying something to Rob in a low voice as he went by. I saw a grin light up Rob’s face like a flash of lightning. It disappeared just as quickly, too; I might almost have thought I’d imagined it if I hadn’t been watching him closely. The door closed and Rob came over to the bed, standing in the spot Ian had just vacated.

  ‘Sit down, would you? Looking up is giving me a crick in my neck.’

  ‘Can’t have that.’ He looked around and found a chair, drawing it forward and sitting down with a sigh. Even in the dim lighting of my hospital room, I could see that he was pale, with bluish shadows under his eyes and a dark bruise on his jaw under the stubble. He had a cut in one eyebrow too.

  ‘You look like hell,’ I said. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘What makes you think anything is going on?’

  ‘You’re the first copper I’ve seen since I’ve been in here. That makes me think everyone else has somewhere better to be.’

  ‘It was family only for the first bit,’ Rob protested. ‘I came as soon as I could.’

  ‘Well, now you’re here.’ I eyed him. ‘Do you want to fill me in on what happened the other night?’

  ‘If I had a pound for every woman who’s ever said that to me …’

  ‘For God’s sake!’

  ‘OK, OK. Keep what’s left of your hair on.’

  I put my hand up to my head without thinking and encountered bandages. ‘You can’t see if they cut any of it off, can you? The nurse promised me that the surgeon didn’t shave my head.’

  He was laughing. ‘Sorry. I couldn’t resist it. I’m sure you’re like a Vidal Sassoon ad under those bandages.’

  ‘I don’t know why I’m getting so upset,’ I said wonderingly. ‘It’s not as if I care about that sort of thing usually.’

  ‘Maybe that knock on the head has changed your personality. You might become a proper girl if you’re lucky.’

  ‘I’m already a proper girl,’ I said with dignity. ‘You just don’t know it.’

  ‘You keep it well hidden.’ I must have looked hurt again, because he leaned forward and patted my hand. ‘Only joking, Kerrigan. You’re all right.’

  ‘Anyway, get back to what you were saying about what happened the other night.’ I looked at him expectantly.

  ‘I’m not supposed to talk to you about work.’

  I made a noise that was pure frustration and he held up his hands. ‘OK. You’ve convinced me. What do you remember?’

  ‘Katy,’ I said instantly. ‘Is she—’

  ‘Fine. Better than you, actually. Bumps and bruises and a burn mark from the stun gun.’

  I breathed out slowly. I hadn’t dared to ask anyone else, not that I’d thought they would tell me anyway. But Rob was telling the truth, I was pretty sure. ‘So it was him, then.’

  ‘Oh yes. Most certainly. The Burning Man in all his twenty-four-year-old glory.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’
<
br />   He shook his head. ‘Remember all those briefings from the psychologist about how he was in his late thirties to mid-forties, lived alone, likely to have a history of violence, blah blah blah? Not quite right.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  I listened, rapt, as Rob told me all about Razmig Selvaggi.

  ‘He’s his mother’s darling – can do no wrong. She lets him get away with doing whatever he wants, according to his sister.’

  ‘I have literally no idea what that would be like,’ I said seriously.

  ‘Razmig has what amounts to a self-contained flat in the loft conversion and the rest of the family aren’t allowed to go up there. Plenty of privacy. The parents work until all hours in the takeaway and the sisters don’t keep track of where he is or what he does. And of course the scooter belongs to the business so he doesn’t even have to pay for his own petrol.’

  ‘Just what you want if you’re out a-murdering.’

  ‘Indeed. And he uses the pizza as his opening gambit – offering free food is a good way to get girls to stop and chat.’

  ‘Did he confess?’

  ‘He didn’t have much choice,’ Rob said frankly. ‘The search of his house turned up items of jewellery that match the missing pieces belonging to the victims, not to mention a bloodstained hammer.’

  ‘Everything that we were looking for.’

  ‘Exactly. Even his solicitor didn’t have much to say when they whacked the photographs of what they’d found on the table in the interview room. When you’re that screwed, there’s nothing much to do but talk, and good old Razmig did.’

  My mind was racing. ‘Did he confess to all of them? What about Rebecca Haworth?’

  Rob leaned back and grinned. ‘Nothing wrong with that brain of yours, is there? No, he didn’t confess to Rebecca’s murder. He’s got an alibi. His cousin got married the day Rebecca died, and Razmig was at the wedding reception all evening and into the night. There’s a video of it and everything. Not only was he very, very drunk by about nine o’clock, but the wedding was in Hertfordshire. He’d have to have mastered bi-location as well as murdering women in five easy stages.’

  ‘I knew it.’

  ‘He was a bit fed up with whoever stole his MO. Couldn’t wait to tell us it wasn’t him.’

  I was still stuck on his age. ‘Did you really say he’s twenty-four?’

  ‘Yep. Never had a girlfriend.’ Rob leaned over to reach into his back pocket and produced a colour print-out of a picture. ‘There’s the custody image. That’s Razzi.’

  It was a close-up of a thick-necked young man with soft, woebegone dark eyes and a slack, wet mouth that was startlingly red, like a child’s. He had short black hair with an inch-long gelled fringe that was combed forward over a low forehead, and his nose was long and narrow. Not by any stretch of imagination could he be described as attractive, but he wasn’t hideous either – except that somehow, you had the sense that there was something missing when you looked at him. But then, anyone would look a bit dispirited when they were arrested for four murders.

  ‘He lifts weights in his spare time,’ Rob observed, reaching out for the photo. ‘That explains the neck. You should see his arms.’

  I was more interested in Rob’s. As he stretched to take the picture, his sleeve slipped back and showed a white bandage that was wrapped around his forearm from the wrist back to the elbow. ‘What happened to you?’

  He grimaced. ‘It’s no big deal. They got a bit over-excited when they were bandaging it.’

  ‘What did you do to yourself?’

  ‘You know how my radio wasn’t working the other night? When you interrupted Razmig’s big night out, I didn’t hear you press your red button. The first I knew of it was when I saw Sam waddling past at warp speed, puffing like a walrus. He headed around to the gate you’d gone through, and I hiked over the railings to come at it from the other side.’

  ‘Did you gouge yourself on them? Ouch.’

  He shook his head. ‘It gets better. So I’m running around in the dark, trying to find you without making too much noise, and when I finally spot you, you’re on the ground and there’s a lad in motorcycle leathers standing over you. You’d curled up into a ball, which was sensible. I legged it across the lawn and jumped on him. Not in time to stop him from booting you in the face, though. Sorry about that.’

  I waggled my fingers dismissively. ‘It’s the least of my troubles. Apparently it’s looking quite pretty today.’

  ‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘You haven’t been looking in any mirrors lately, have you? Best to keep it that way.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me what happened to your arm,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Yeah. Well. Before the uniforms caught up with me, I got in a few good punches. I was a bit annoyed, to be honest. Katy looked to be in a bad way, and you were lying there—’ He broke off and shook his head. ‘I thought I was too late.’

  ‘Poor Rob.’

  ‘I know. Get out the violin. So I was having a bit of a wrestle with Razzi, and the next thing was, he bit me.’ He sounded totally disgusted. I couldn’t help laughing. ‘I’m glad you think it’s funny.’

  I stretched, feeling a tiny amount of energy coming back into my arms and legs. ‘Thanks for rescuing me.’

  ‘Any time.’ He saw me looking sceptical. ‘I mean it. If you’re ever out on an op again, I want you to be paired up with me. If it had been up to Sam to intervene, you’d be in the mortuary now. As it was, he had to have a little sit-down once all the excitement was over. Someone even made him a cup of tea.’

  ‘I’ll ask specially for you. But I like Sam.’

  ‘Sam is the reason there should be a compulsory annual fitness test,’ Rob said bluntly. ‘The sooner he retires the better.’

  ‘Everything worked out fine in the end.’ I shut my eyes again, but not for long. ‘Wait a minute. I can’t believe I forgot. What happened with the Haworth case and putting pressure on Gil Maddick? Did they search his house?’

  ‘Yep. Nothing strange popped up. They found a few items of women’s clothing, a hairbrush, some cosmetics – but nothing’s come back to Rebecca. Bit of a ladies’ man, isn’t he? Is he good-looking?’

  ‘If you like that sort of thing. Is Louise OK?’

  ‘Fine, as far as I know.’

  Now that Selvaggi was under arrest, there would be time for the focus to shift from the Burning Man murders to Rebecca’s death, and I hoped the extra attention would gather the evidence we needed to arrest Gil Maddick. I didn’t feel as if I was Louise’s only line of defence any more, and that, frankly, was a relief.

  A nurse poked her head into the room, saw Rob and tapped her wrist meaningfully.

  ‘I’d better go before they kick me out.’

  I put out my hand without thinking. ‘No. Stay.’

  ‘You need to get some rest, and I have to get to work.’ His voice was gentle but firm as he stood up. ‘We’re following up on a few things – making sure the case is watertight. The CPS don’t want anything to jeopardise this one.’

  ‘Right. Of course not.’ I found myself blushing. We were colleagues, first and foremost. We had been talking about work. Rob probably didn’t see me in any other light. Of course he would assume I wanted to keep talking about the job. ‘If you have to go, you have to go. I wish I could join you.’

  ‘Time enough for that. When are they letting you out?’

  I shrugged. ‘No one tells me anything.’

  ‘Are you going back to Primrose Hill?’ Rob’s voice was deceptively casual, but I saw the glint in his eye.

  ‘As you probably noticed, Ian was saying goodbye. We’ve broken up. I’m going home to my parents to recuperate.’

  ‘That should be nice. Comforts of home.’

  ‘I’ll get better quicker because I’ll be desperate to leave.’

  ‘When they discharge you from here, let me know. I’ll give you a hand with moving to your parents if you like.’

  I was thinking about somethin
g else. ‘Rob, what did Ian say to you when he was leaving?’

  A slow smile spread across his face. ‘I’ll tell you some other time.’

  ‘Rob!’

  He patted my hand. ‘Don’t get excited. Think of your blood pressure.’

  ‘You utter tosser, Langton.’

  He stood up and stretched. ‘Proper Gurkha, aren’t you?’

  It was police slang for officers who never made arrests. I frowned up at him. ‘Because I didn’t collar Razmig Selvaggi?’

  ‘No. But it is because you take no prisoners.’ He leaned over and surveyed my face. ‘There is literally nowhere to kiss you that isn’t bruised.’ In the end, he settled for a peck on the tip of my nose. And before I could think of an adequate response, he was gone.

  I had a steady stream of visitors the following day, but even so I was heartily sick of being in hospital by the time I was discharged. I left with my mother clucking in attendance on me, half a pharmacy’s stock of pills, and a file under my arm. It was the gift Superintendent Godley had given me when he came to see me, sitting by my bed and chatting easily with my father as if he had known him for years instead of having met him when he went to my parents’ house on Saturday morning to tell them what had happened. He had driven them to the hospital himself. I wasn’t altogether comfortable with my two worlds colliding like that. My mother, from the black look on her face, couldn’t understand why Godley was asking me to spend my sick leave working on a case file. But there was nothing I wanted more than a chance to help find out what had happened to Rebecca Haworth, and the file was the best get-well-soon present I could have imagined. It would help me to feel useful, and it would stop me from trying to return to work before I was fully fit. Godley knew his man-management.

  ‘We’ll get everything else boxed up and sent over to you. And I’ll come and see you,’ Godley had promised. ‘Give me a call when you’ve got something you want to discuss. If you want anything followed up, Peter Belcott is available to do it. You know this case better than anyone on my team. I want your knowledge of the players, your understanding of their characters. I know you have your own suspicions about who killed her, but if you can, put them from your mind and start looking at the evidence with an open mind.’