‘That does sound like a shame,’ Isabel says. ‘Well, thank you Fátima and sorry for taking up your time. Please can you let Luisa know that we’re waiting for her for a quick word?’
‘Of course, and it’s no problem.’ She quickly finishes her cigarette before stubbing it out and heading back inside.
Yeah, Isabel thinks, the whole bank is going to know the police are here for Luisa. Fátima is clearly the type who likes to spread things around.
Isabel and Voronov wait for Luisa.
‘Difficulty recalling things?’ Isabel shakes her head.
‘Might explain why she didn’t want to consent to you looking through her memories.’
Valid point. ‘Maybe,’ Isabel says. She pulls out her phone and checks the time. ‘Think we have time to grab a snack from around the corner or something before she comes out?’
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, mouth curling up at the edges.
‘What?’
‘Where does it all go?’
The humour takes her by surprise and Isabel’s mouth curls in amusement before she can help it. She shakes her head and gives him the finger.
Luisa doesn’t look pleased as she walks outside to find Isabel and Voronov waiting for her.
‘Inspectors, this is my workplace. Do you know what kind of impression you’re giving my staff?’ She’s tugging the belt of her coat closed around her waist as she talks. ‘Interrogating them about me?’
Inside the bank, the other tellers are shooting looks out of the glass doors. They’ve all clearly finished for the day but are taking their time pulling on their coats and standing around, chatting, casting them the most unsubtle looks Isabel has ever seen. Fátima is among them. Surprise, surprise.
No rain has come down yet, but the wind is a brutal thing. Luisa’s dressed a little fancier today. Her gold watch dangles from her wrist like a bracelet and diamond earrings glint at her ears.
‘Sorry we had to intrude like this,’ Voronov says, ‘I hope you understand that the nature of our investigation means we have to move as quickly as we can on any potentially new information. I know we asked you to contact us if you felt you could help us any more, but we needed to double-check.’
‘No, I’m sorry Inspectors, but I can’t.’
‘I understand, but we do have a query. You drove to the station that morning.’
Luisa tucks her hair behind her ear again even though she did that a few seconds ago. Her face is pale and she looks seconds away from bolting from them. ‘Yes, I did.’ She doesn’t say anything else. Isabel stays quiet, letting Voronov handle it.
The woman will only get more nervous if Isabel steps in. She’d become more withdrawn at the station when Isabel had identified herself as Gifted – they don’t need to make the situation worse.
‘You’re not in trouble. But your car was parked outside Gare do Oriente station and when we spoke to you, you didn’t mention this to us. You said you only had your phone and you wouldn’t have been able to get a taxi because your money was in your bag.’
Luisa frowns. ‘Yes – I mean. No. I drove there, yes. But once I left the station, I forgot my bag like I told you. I didn’t have my keys. And even if I had had them at the time, I wouldn’t have wanted to drive. I was too shaken up for that.’ Her eyes keep darting, back and forth, back and forth. Isabel watches it all through narrowed eyes. How shifty can you look while attempting not to look shifty?
‘I see,’ Isabel says. ‘I’m sorry; but we found it odd that you didn’t mention it. Gabriel Bernardo is the boyfriend you mentioned? The one who picked you up from the station that morning? Is this the gentleman you were accompanying the night of the function?’
Luisa steps back; pulls her coat tighter around her. ‘Yes, what about him?’ The look she gives Isabel has some backbone to it this time.
‘Do you go to these functions often?’
‘Yes. I accompany him to them all the time. The invite was actually for him. His parents run in those circles and his profession means that they’re an important part of his social calendar. They’re very close to the Soares family. Gabriel’s dad works in politics too.’
‘I see. If you attend these things often, you must have spoken to Gil at some point, no?’
‘Gil dos Santos?’ Luisa asks. ‘I don’t know, in passing, maybe.’
‘Why not mention this at the station when you spoke to us there?’ Isabel asks.
There’s a spike of emotion that hits Isabel hard just then. Bright and sharp. Luisa broadcasts it so loudly that Isabel feels it hit her in the chest.
‘I don’t know,’ Luisa says, ‘like I said, we’ve only spoken in passing.’
‘But you knew who he was, is what I’m saying.’
‘I don’t—I wasn’t . . .’ Luisa folds her arms over her chest and stands up straighter. ‘Look, I’ve told you what I know.’
Except you haven’t, Isabel thinks.
‘It was just a coincidence that we were even in the same carriage. I didn’t realise and then when I did, he was—he was—’ Luisa cuts herself off. ‘I don’t have anything else to tell you.’
Yeah. Big coincidence. Anyone else would have stayed behind to find out what had happened, not run away at the first opportunity. Not unless you had something to hide.
Voronov steps a little closer and dips his head a little to catch Luisa’s eyes again. ‘That’s okay, Luisa, you’ve been helpful. Can I ask one last thing?’
Luisa nods, probably because she knows she doesn’t have much of a choice.
‘I understand you were maybe confused at the time. When did you call your boyfriend to come and get you? Do you remember the time?’
Luisa’s face goes blank and she stares at them.
‘Luisa?’ Voronov prompts when she doesn’t say anything.
‘I don’t—I don’t remember.’ She seems to come back into herself. ‘Everything . . . it happened too fast,’ she says.
Isabel keeps her eyes on her and then, softly, asks, ‘Luisa, if you felt okay with it, I could take a look at your—’
‘No!’ Luisa jerks back and away from them, the skin around her mouth going white and her eyes seeming too big for her face.
Isabel holds up her hands in apology and nods. ‘It was a suggestion.’
Luisa doesn’t budge, keeps staring at Isabel like the other woman is about to attack her.
Isabel eases back so she’s standing slightly behind Voronov, trying to make herself less threatening. Luisa’s reaction was intense. Too intense. Way more defensive then she had been when they’d interviewed her the first time around.
She’s still staring at Isabel.
Voronov shifts into Luisa’s line of sight and smiles reassuringly. ‘Okay, thank you. We’ll leave you to get on with your day.’
Luisa nods but doesn’t say anything. She stays rooted to the spot, arms wrapped around herself, and watches them until they get into the car and drive off.
Isabel’s chewing on the inside of her cheek, mulling that whole interaction over.
‘When you asked her if you could look into her memories the first time, the response was less . . . volatile,’ Voronov says.
Isabel pushes her hair back from her face and leans her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes for a moment. Which turns out not to be the best thing because it has her seeing bright spots against the black of her eyelids that throb in time to her headache. She has to blink a couple of times to clear her vision.
‘There’s something not right there,’ Isabel says.
‘Did you pick up anything from her?’ He asks it casually, straight out. The lack of tiptoeing around the fact that she has a Gift is refreshing. Or suspicious. Is he fishing? Beyond knowing that she can look into someone’s mind and access memories, or that she can sense people’s emotions, he doesn’t know much else about her powers. Is he trying to find out how much she can do and to what extent she can use them?
But when Isabel looks over at him, Voronov
’s focused on the road.
‘Nothing useful,’ she says, ‘hopefully Carla will have something better for us.’
‘Julio’s secretary wasn’t as helpful as we would have liked.’ Carla sighs and sits on the table.
The precinct is unusually quiet at this time of day and their floor is practically empty, so they’re all at Isabel’s desk, except for Jacinta who is still with the team processing Gil’s car. So far, no news from them.
Voronov’s shed his jacket and has rolled his chair over so they don’t have to talk too loudly. It’s incredible how put-together he still looks at the end of a working day. Daniel on the other hand looks like he’s been working through the night, bags under his eyes and sucking down coffee like it’s his lifeline. He’s staring off into space like he’s vacated the premises, but Isabel knows he’s listening. It’s his MO.
‘Great,’ Isabel mutters. She’s hungry and she can feel her body slowing down, mind going sluggish. They should’ve stopped for food on their way back from Luisa. She wonders if she has any more emergency snack bars at her desk.
‘But.’ Carla smiles.
That gets Isabel’s attention. ‘Oh?’
‘She tells me that the morning Gil died, Julio was due to attend a departmental meeting at the university he works at, but then at the last minute he had her send his apologies to the chair.’
Voronov rolls closer. ‘What time was the meeting supposed to take place?’
Carla grimaces. ‘This is where it becomes a little less helpful. His meeting was for ten thirty a.m.’
Which would’ve given enough time to get from Gare do Oriente to his workplace, plenty of time, Isabel thinks. Him cancelling the meeting doesn’t mean much.
‘What about HSL?’ She catches her hair in one hand and tugs on it, frustration eating at her. ‘Any mention of that anywhere?’ she asks. ‘Did she have any clue what it might mean?’
Carla shakes her head and her ponytail swishes along with the motion. ‘She did agree to send me a copy of his schedule in the month leading up to the day of Gil’s death, which we’ve already received. I’ve started looking through it.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ Isabel rubs at her eyes. ‘Unless Jacinta has something for us, we should call it a day. Start fresh tomorrow. I need food.’
‘I think Jacinta doesn’t have long to go,’ Carla says, ‘is anyone up for grabbing some food and a drink?’
Isabel’s stomach is only too happy to agree to that idea.
Chapter 27
‘God, we haven’t done this in too long,’ Jacinta groans, next to her.
It hadn’t taken Jacinta long to join them. The search of the car and the forensics hadn’t turned up anything useful, to everyone’s disappointment.
‘Tell me about it,’ Isabel says.
The music in the bar is upbeat and sounds familiar; something that Isabel is sure they must play over and over again. Isabel smiles at the bartender as he slides a tall glass of rum and Coke her way. She takes a drink from it and sighs in satisfaction.
‘That’s hitting the spot.’
‘Amen,’ Jacinta says and touches her glass to Isabel’s.
The rest of the team has gone to find a table and everyone is in the process of getting his or her drinks.
‘So,’ Jacinta says.
‘So?’
‘How’s the new partnership going?’ she asks.
Isabel shrugs. ‘It’s going.’
‘Oh?’ Jacinta sighs and looks at where Voronov is standing by the table talking to Daniel, who is already sitting with a drink in hand next to Carla. ‘Are those anti-Gifted rumours proving true?’
Isabel glances over her shoulder at him. ‘No, not as far as I can tell.’ She can work with him easily enough. But is she at ease in his presence? Sometimes. In the back of her mind she can’t help wondering if he’s figuring her out, gathering what he can to maybe use against her at some later time.
‘I suppose we should’ve known it wouldn’t be an issue. The Chief can be an arsehole but she looks after her people.’
Isabel can’t argue with that.
They have quite a few empty pool tables in the bar, which Isabel is surprised by. She hasn’t played in a long time.
‘Want a game?’ she asks, pointing at the tables with her drink.
Jacinta looks at the table. ‘Hmm, maybe in a bit? Let me sit down and let this drink go to my head. I need to unwind; this case is throwing everyone off-kilter.’
‘I know.’
‘What about you? How’s it going with your sister?’
It’s not. Her phone hasn’t stopped buzzing with texts and missed calls since the dinner, although it has slowed down in the last couple of hours. She’s ignored all of Rita’s messages, meaning that her phone has the annoying notification number constantly on the screen that makes her twitch.
There had only been one message from Michael. That one she hadn’t left as a notification. She deleted it right away, not having read one word of it.
Jacinta has been around as a friend long enough that she’s met both of Isabel’s siblings, and although her opinion of Rita hadn’t been a bad one, she’d mentioned to Isabel that they seemed like polar opposites. She had also been around during Isabel’s relationship with Michael. In conclusion, currently, Jacinta isn’t impressed by Isabel’s sister at all.
‘Haven’t replied to her,’ Isabel says, gaze roaming the menu scrawled in white chalk on the strip of blackboard above the bar. ‘Don’t want to speak to her, to be honest.’ She feels as if her entire body is sagging under the weight of the conversation, just talking about it exhausting her. ‘I’m angry but, she’s still my sister. I don’t want to say something I can’t take back.’
‘You? Say something without thinking? Never.’ Jacinta pats her hard enough that her drink spills. ‘Oh look; your new partner is coming over. God, he’s pretty isn’t he?’
Isabel looks at Voronov making his way through the room and can’t help the teasing curl to her mouth. ‘He is. Think the Chief was trying to do us a favour?’
Jacinta snorts. ‘Don’t say that near Daniel, I think we’ll bruise his ego.’
‘His ego is big enough.’
‘Yeah well, let me go visit with his ego so you can have a drink with Voronov. Can’t believe you hadn’t taken the man out for a drink yet. What kind of partner are you?’
‘A tired one,’ Isabel calls out to her and takes another sip, because she knows from experience that although alcohol doesn’t take the headaches away – depending on how much she has, it could end up worse in the morning – the floatiness that comes with a small buzz can help a bit.
‘Tired of what?’ Voronov asks as he takes the stool next to her and motions the bartender over.
‘Her bullshit,’ Isabel says and turns back to the bar.
‘Vodka, neat, please,’ he says.
‘Because I’m not actually an arsehole I’m not going to comment on how that’s a cliché,’ she says and tacks on a request for a bifana sandwich to the end of Voronov’s order before the bartender can walk off.
‘Didn’t you do that anyway?’
‘Did I?’ She hitches herself up onto a stool. ‘Which part of Russia is your family from? You are Russian, right? I assumed, by your last name. Or am I wrong?’
Voronov thanks the bartender and pays for his drink before replying. ‘My grandmother is from Novosibirsk.’ His pronunciation is crisp.
‘Mum’s side? Dad’s side?’
‘My mother’s.’ He takes a drink, then frowns and stares down at it.
‘What? Not good?’
‘It’ll do,’ he says, still frowning. ‘I have better at home.’ His eyes meet hers over the glass and Isabel doesn’t look away.
‘Okay,’ she says, ‘nice to know where I can go for good vodka.’
‘Just being friendly,’ he says with a shrug.
Right. She glances at the others and sees that they’re deep in conversation.
She grins. The rum is
warming her up and she’s eager to get another. A second one will put her in a good place. ‘You play pool?’
‘Yes. You want a game?’
‘Yeah. Let’s do it.’ Isabel nods at the bartender. ‘Can we get one of the tables, and two more of the same, please?’ She slides a note across the counter, waving Voronov’s protest aside, and follows the bartender over to the cues and the pool balls, sipping her drink as she goes.
The cue is a familiar weight in her hand. It always reminds her of her dad standing beside her, explaining how to make her shot. She still doesn’t play as well as he used to.
Setting her drink on the edge of the pool table, she chalks the tip of the stick and watches Voronov set the game. He lifts the frame up and off and gestures for Isabel to go up first.
Isabel shrugs and throws the chalk at him. She rounds the table to break.
‘So,’ she says as she leans over to line up her shot, ‘you seem to be settling in without any problems.’
‘Is that how it looks?’
She takes the shot, the crack of the balls dispersing across the table loud. She sinks a stripe and stands back from the table to survey her next one. ‘Yeah. Why? Am I wrong?’ She rounds the table and lines up her next shot.
‘No, I haven’t had any problems but don’t think you feel the same.’
Her ball rebounds off the pocket’s corner. She straightens and looks at him, arching a brow. ‘No problems here.’
‘Hmm.’ His eyes sweep over the table. ‘I get the sense that you’re not convinced.’
‘About what exactly?’ Her words are muffled by the rim of her glass.
He pockets the first ball, then a second, but misses the third, blocking what would’ve been an easy one for her. He walks around to stand in front of her, holding the cue firmly with both hands. ‘About having me as your partner.’
‘Wouldn’t that be my problem?’ she asks.
‘Ours,’ he corrects, ‘since we’re meant to watch each other’s backs.’
‘Oh,’ she says slowly, nods and finishes her drink. Gripping her cue, she turns back to the game at hand. ‘Are you worried I won’t have your back, Voronov?’
The Colours of Death Page 15