20/20

by Carl Goodman

  When Eva found Judy Wren she thought she had an air of uncharacteristic melancholy abut her. ‘What a damn shame,’ Wren said as Eva, with gloves and overshoes, approached the body.

  ‘Which part?’

  Katarzyna Liege lay on her back on the dining room table, eyelids sliced off and eyes removed. Unlike the other corpses, blood stained the wounds. It had run down her cheeks like tears of wine and now pooled at the back of the head. She wore a dark-blue gown. Her hair was wrapped up in a tidy bun now tinged carmine. Her hands lay neatly at her side.

  Although Wren always took care she seemed to be taking particular care with Katarzyna Liege. ‘All of it,’ Wren said. She shrugged. ‘He’s varied his pattern a little today. I can guess why.’

  ‘Go on?’ Eva prompted.

  ‘It started the same as the others. He broke in, crept up on her and zapped her with a stun gun. The problem was that Ms Liege was seventy-two years of age and no longer had the strongest of hearts. I think she died of cardiac arrest before he had the chance to sedate her.’

  ‘So he cut her open without exsanguination?’

  ‘What’s a little blood,’ Wren said, ‘when you’ve just murdered someone as talented as Katarzyna Liege?’ Wren stepped away from the body and led Eva to another, much smaller room. A handful of posters lined the wall. A few other pieces of memorabilia stood on a cherry-wood table. ‘She was a dancer,’ Wren told her. ‘She danced with the Warsaw ballet, many years ago of course. Do you know, I think I may have actually seen her?’ Eva caught the note in Wren’s voice and realised. For some reason, of all the killings this one had actually touched her. ‘It must have been almost forty years ago now. I would have been about fifteen. She was with the Kirov then I think, they performed Spartacus at the London Coliseum. By God, if you ever thought ballet was just about people prancing around in tutus that one performance would have been enough to change your mind forever. The men had the most perfect physiques imaginable and they danced barefoot. I was close to the stage, I could see the blood on their feet from where they went up on point. When the women came on they were elegant, stunning and shamelessly erotic. It was incredible. Liege was in the corps de ballet. Not a big part, I had to Google it.’

  ‘Judy?’

  Wren put her hand around a small bronze statuette of a dancer and gripped it so hard her knuckles whitened. ‘I want this bastard now,’ she told Eva. ‘I want this bastard so much it hurts.’

  * * *

  Flynn and Newton sat in another room at the front of the house. The living room, Eva assumed. It looked out over a carefully tended lawn now covered with autumn leaves. Flynn and Newton both sat on sofas with laptop computers in front of them.

  ‘It’s a list,’ Flynn said without looking up as Eva entered. ‘It has to be. All of these people had surgery at the Chatham Centre within a few weeks of each other.’ Eva stared over her shoulder. Katarzyna Liege’s name was indeed on the list.

  ‘It certainly looks like a list,’ she told Flynn, ‘but we don’t know where it starts or ends yet. These people,’ she pointed at cells in a spreadsheet, ‘have not been attacked. What’s to say if they’re on the list or off it?’ When Flynn started to object Eva held up her hand. ‘I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying we haven’t got the whole picture yet. Is this person,’ she stabbed at a cell, ‘going to be the next victim, or is it this one? We’re still missing one piece of information.’ She put her hand on Flynn’s shoulder; Flynn looked up and smiled. ‘Good work though,’ Eva said. ‘We’re almost there.’

  ‘Not so sure, ma’am,’ Jamie Newton said. ‘You know the SQL you showed me? I thought I’d take a look inside the files Chatham House sent us.’ Eva went and stood behind Newton. It was true. He had opened up the file and was looking at the internal structure of the database tables. She almost hugged him. ‘Does this mean what I think it means?’

  Eva peered. She saw some commas on screen with no content in-between them. ‘If you mean has a set of fields been deleted, then yes it does. It won’t help us get any closer to understanding who is and who isn’t on the list,’ she told Newton and Flynn, ‘but it does tell us that the data has been messed with.’ She stared at them. ‘Bloody nice work,’ she said. ‘Next time we ever get anywhere near a pub the beers are on me.’

  Flynn looked back at her screen. ‘Any word from your anonymous source, ma’am?’

  ‘No, but I keep trying. I think they’re popping their SIM in and out of a work or personal phone. They’ll only get messages when they have the card in. I reckon they’ll answer though,’ Eva said as much to herself as to them. ‘I can feel it in my bones.’

  ‘Do you want us to run financials on Katarzyna Liege, ma’am?’ Jamie Newton asked. Eva wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Nah. Get back to the station. Give Raj a hand with the background on the Chatham Centre. This,’ she pointed at the two screens, ‘all means we’re getting closer.’

  * * *

  When she thought about what she was letting herself in for, Eva found she did not know how she would react. On the one hand it seemed to go against everything she believed in. Nicholson had admitted the parties were basically an opportunity to pick up partners for the day and alluded that illegal narcotics would be available. On the other, Nicholson had also made it clear that everyone involved was a responsible adult exercising his or her right of freedom to act. How was that worse than going out and getting paralytic in a club on a Saturday night to pick up a one-night stand? She knew she needed to focus. Perhaps it would be a waste of an afternoon but there was at least the possibility of finding a connection with Kelly Gibson, Olivia Russell and Grace Lloyd. It had to be followed up, but Eva had absolutely no legal basis on which to proceed against Berta Nicholson. At least this way she had not needed any; Nicholson could not have been more helpful. Eva knew that if she had exerted any pressure she would have thrown up an impenetrable wall of lawyers. By meeting her halfway Eva had at least gained a degree of trust.

  She pulled into the drive of Nicholson’s palatial home in Virginia Water and parked her car in amongst a slew of German and Italian marques. From behind the driving wheel she watched a tall, elegant couple ring on the front doorbell. He was in his forties; she looked to be about half his age. Somebody answered and greeted them with kisses on the cheeks. A woman, Eva saw, but she did not recognise her. Let’s get this done, she thought as she shoved open her car door.

  The same woman answered when she rang the bell. She wore a look of warm, almost delighted surprise. ‘You must be Eva,’ she said as she held the door. ‘Berta was so hoping you would make it. You haven’t been to one of these gatherings before? Well, don’t worry,’ she said before Eva could answer, ‘it’s all very relaxed and informal. It doesn’t matter if you want to just watch or join in, nobody minds. The important thing is that you enjoy yourself. I’m Elisabeth by the way,’ she said as she led Eva inside. ‘We’re just having a few drinks by the pool. Did you want to get changed? You can use one of the bedrooms, third from the left on the first floor is probably empty. I’ll be here when you come down and I’ll take you to Berta. She’s going to be so pleased to see you.’

  A broad stairway arced around the entrance hall. Eva made her way up it. From somewhere in the house she could hear the sound of a party just beginning. People greeted each other and laughed at poor jokes. She heard a cork being popped and a splash of water as somebody jumped into a swimming pool. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb, she thought as she reached the first floor. Maybe I’ll just stay for an hour.

  A woman emerged from the door she was walking towards, the blonde woman she had seen go into the house. She wore a white swimsuit and high heels. When she saw Eva she beamed. ‘Come to join the party? You’ll love it. Berta is the best. I’ll see you downstairs,’ she said as she walked past. Eva went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  Five neat piles of clothes lay on a long console table by the window. A king-size bed stood in the middle of the room
. Eva dropped her bag on the bed and took out her swimsuit, which she had only bought from a store in the town centre that morning. Black and quite plain, she hoped it would not make her look too conspicuous. She forced herself to get changed.

  Elisabeth collected her again at the bottom of the stairs. Elisabeth tried not to stare, but Eva noticed she couldn’t help looking at the scar that ran almost from her groin to her knee. ‘I had a car accident,’ she said before Elisabeth could feel embarrassed. ‘I’ve given up trying to hide it. Do you think anyone will mind?’

  ‘It’s not that kind of gathering,’ Elisabeth said, suddenly serious. ‘You’ll find the people here are very accepting.’ She gave Eva a sideways glance. ‘I hope you’ll feel the same way.’

  Nicholson greeted her like a long-lost cousin when they walked into the room that held the pool, which looked about twenty metres in length. She threw her arms around her and gave her a flute of champagne. The flute itself was plastic, Eva noticed, which probably made sense with a party by a pool. The champagne, however, tasted like the real thing, and not a cheap vintage. Eva sipped on it as Nicholson showed her around. ‘Drinks and nibbles,’ she said as she waved a hand at a row of tables lined up by the pool, although she pointedly ignored the other substances laid out with the food. There were half a dozen silver trays to one side of the alcohol; one held sachets of cocaine, another pre-rolled joints, a third had a small pile of pills stacked like chocolates on it. There were other drugs too. At a glance she guessed there was around a thousand pounds of narcotics set out on the trays. Berta stared at her. Eva kept her promise and simply shrugged.

  ‘Just so you know,’ Nicholson whispered, ‘everything and everyone is available except,’ she took Eva’s elbow and turned her around, ‘Simon.’ She nodded at a man at the opposite end of the pool, wearing trunks and an orange T-shirt. A lifeguard, Eva realised. ‘After work he’s fair game but right now he’s here to make sure nobody gets into trouble in the pool.’

  Eva raised an eyebrow. ‘Health and safety?’

  Nicholson took her by elbow. ‘We’re here to enjoy ourselves. Somebody getting hurt is not my idea of fun.’

  The apparent contradiction of Berta Nicholson bemused her. Class-A drugs and casual sex seemed fine just so long as everyone was watched over and safe. When she looked back at the pool she saw that half a dozen people had decided to take the plunge. When she looked again she noticed all of them were naked.

  ‘I may have accidentally misled you,’ Nicholson said as she led her on a long, slow circuit around the pool. ‘I think at least two of the girls you mentioned did come to parties here. I asked around,’ she explained. ‘Olivia Russell came with Marcus and Danielle. They met her at New Thought when she posed for Mathew. Kelly Gibson may have been here too, but if she was she only used her first name.’

  ‘Does Mathew Harred ever come to these parties?’

  Nicholson laughed. ‘We wish. I was telling the truth when I said Mathew is almost monastic in his obsession with his painting. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m delighted he’s so committed, but it would be nice if he came and let his hair down sometimes.’

  In the pool, singles and couples seemed to be drifting towards one another. ‘Where did you find him?’

  ‘He found us. Mathew came to New Thought around five years ago. Like a lot of people he wanted to find out more. It was Fredrick Huss who discovered he was an artist. Fredrick has a keen interest in photography so they hit it off immediately. When Fredrick saw his work he called me straight away. I love the Pre-Raphaelites and you’ve seen how Mathew paints. He was drifting, looking for commissions. He had been coming to New Thought for a couple months when Fredrick had the idea of the fresco. I jumped at it of course. Mathew was a little more hesitant. When Fredrick said he could have the whole of the north wall though, well, I mean how could he resist? It’s a huge commitment but then again it’s a huge opportunity for him. It will seal his reputation. He’ll be able to go where he wants and paint what he wants, and he knows that. I suppose it’s not surprising he’s so focused. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.’

  The group in the pool seemed to have given up any pretence at restraint. Eva couldn’t help but stare as the woman she had met on the first floor wrapped her legs around one man’s waist and kissed another long and hard as he massaged her breasts from behind. Elsewhere, a man and two women were locked in another embrace. At the table a couple opened sachets of cocaine, sniffed them together and then started pulling each other’s clothes off with slow, languorous tugs. She felt as though she were viewing from a distance, which she supposed in many ways she actually was. Nicholson watched her stare, smiled but said nothing.

  ‘And Lily Yu?’ Eva asked. She knew she was blushing.

  ‘Lily’s here somewhere. Would you like me to find her?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ Eva said quickly. ‘I just wondered where she fitted into the picture.’

  ‘Lily lives with me. She’s my partner, but we don’t claim each other on an exclusive basis. Where would be the fun in that?’

  ‘I guess I meant in connection with the other women.’

  ‘Don’t be coy, Eva,’ Nicholson said. ‘You mean did she fuck them?’ She shrugged. ‘Well, possibly. Does it make any difference?’

  ‘Probably not.’ More people seemed to be moving towards the pool, dropping clothes as they went. There were probably close to forty guests dotted around the house, all of them getting drunk, stoned or laid. All of them except her. For a brief moment she felt an unexpected pang of jealousy.

  ‘Well,’ Nicholson said eventually, ‘if you’ll excuse me I feel like I’m being a bad host. I should pay some attention to my other guests,’ she laughed as she glanced at the pool. ‘God knows they need it.’ Before Eva had a chance to say anything Nicholson stripped off her swimming costume, downed her wine and stepped into the water. When she surfaced she turned to face her. ‘Come and join us,’ she called. ‘What have you got to lose?’

  For a moment she was almost tempted. Then two men and a woman swam up to Nicholson and grabbed her. She shrieked a laugh and they started having sex almost immediately. From the side of the pool Eva couldn’t work out the permutations, and anyway, they kept changing. There were close to two dozen people in the pool now, all of them in groups, all of them grunting and writhing as they swapped partners and then swapped again. Everything really was permissible, Eva saw. Nobody objected to anything. She shook her head. She didn’t know if she was ready for that; it seemed overwhelming. Even though she was driving she decided to get herself another glass of champagne.

  She walked around the rest of the house. In a conservatory that backed onto the garden, she found Lily Yu. Yu was stoned, Eva saw, but not wrecked. She remembered what Nicholson had said about trust and control. Yu had clearly been with another mixed group of half a dozen people who had spilled out onto the lawn. ‘Detective Inspector,’ Yu slurred at her as she stared at Eva’s swimsuit, ‘you’re looking distinctly over-dressed.’ Yu also was naked.

  ‘It’s a bit overpowering,’ Eva admitted. Yu laughed and took her by the arm.

  ‘That’s okay. It often takes a couple of parties before people really feel like joining in. It’s no problem. Have some wine, smoke a joint, watch the show and enjoy yourself. Whatever you feel like.’ Yu’s eyes widened a little. ‘Oh, you were into Mathew’s painting, weren’t you? I bet you’d love Berta’s collection as well.’

  ‘Berta has a collection?’ Eva asked, mildly conscious of the fact she was being dragged through a house by a woman who was naked and high on drugs. Bizarrely, when she thought about it, it no longer bothered her.

  The fact that Nicholson had an art collection of her own didn’t surprise her either. She knew through some lightweight financial research that Nicholson’s money had come from her family, and that they had been involved with a forest somewhere in the east of Russia. That had not struck her as a significant source of income until she had seen it marked out on a map. One de
scription from an assessor had caught her eye. They had taken off in a helicopter at nine o’clock one morning to make an appraisal of the forest for insurance purposes. At three o’clock the same afternoon they were still flying over it.

  In a corridor that overlooked the garden they passed a man and woman who leaned against a wall while having sex. Like Yu, the woman had long, dark hair. The man pushed her against the wall; she had one leg raised and hooked around him. She held a flute of champagne in one hand and ran her nails along his back with the other. When the woman saw Yu she took a swig from the glass and then offered it to her. Yu let go of Eva’s elbow, took the glass, took a sip and then passed it back to the woman. She stroked the man’s backside as he thrust himself inside her repeatedly. He dropped one hand from the woman’s breast and pushed it in-between Yu’s legs. Yu giggled. ‘I’ll catch you later.’ The woman gasped as Yu took Eva’s arm once more and led her down the corridor.

  ‘Don’t feel embarrassed,’ Yu insisted as they walked. ‘This is just one of the things we do. We also do art,’ she said as she pushed open a door. Another living room, large and north facing, Eva thought by the colour of the light. The white walls of the room were lined with photos and paintings.

  There had to be forty or fifty pieces. Eva saw a handful of bronze sculptures set around the room on tables, but it was the art on the walls that caught her attention. There were sketches in the style Mathew Harred followed. One sketch had a label under it; Jane Morris, it read: Dante Gabriel Rossetti. There was a date. Another work caught her eye. ‘That’s a Picasso,’ she gasped at Yu.

  Yu giggled again. Eva wondered how she would feel when she came off that high. ‘I know. It’s gorgeous, right?’ Eva looked at some of the other works, which spanned a number of different styles and periods. Most of it was representational. Human figures featured in the majority of the paintings. It came as no surprise to her that Nicholson’s main interest was in people.