An Eye for an Eye (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘And this conversation took place on Friday the twenty-first of May?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that was the last time you saw him?’

  ‘Yes. Why are you asking me about Ian? Has something happened to him?’

  ‘I’m afraid we found his body at his apartment earlier today.’

  ‘Shit! How did he die?’

  ‘I can’t divulge any information at the moment, but I would like to know your whereabouts last evening.’

  He rubbed at his chin. ‘Wow! Dead. Erm, yes. I was here at home and I have a witness who can testify to that.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Fiona Corby. She came over last night at nine and stayed until just after midnight.’

  Emma’s head whipped up in surprise. ‘Are you and Mrs Corby still in a relationship?’

  His shoulders sagged and he shook his head. ‘No. She came over yesterday evening to end it.’

  ‘Fiona was with you quite some time, considering she came to tell you the relationship was over,’ said Kate.

  ‘I tried to convince her to reconsider. It was . . . emotional. Actually, one of my neighbours was walking his dog at the time she left and stopped to have a quick word with me about his garden. You can confirm it with Rufus – Rufus Grimm. He lives three doors down. House with a red door.’ He pointed to the right.

  Emma made a note of the name. It had to be verified.

  ‘Did Ian talk to you about anything else at all, or say anything that set alarm bells ringing?’

  ‘Not at the time. To be honest, I was taken aback when he propositioned me. I hadn’t seen it coming. I’d even felt sorry for the guy because on our first trip to the cinema he confessed he was terrified of the dark, which was why he’d hired me. He adored films but needed somebody with him so he wouldn’t panic, so he completely floored me with the whole “fun and games” thing. Oh, yes, he said I looked like a man who “liked it rough”. I was gobsmacked at that. I hadn’t pegged him as a lover of S&M. Shows you how wrong you can be about some people. I totally misread him.’ He rolled his eyes and shook his head simultaneously.

  Kate signalled to Emma, who put away her notepad. ‘If you think of anything else Ian told you during any of your trips to the cinema, let us know. You have my number.’

  It was coming up to eight thirty when they left Rory’s house. The sun was slipping slowly below the horizon. Kate observed it for a few moments, then clambered into the Audi.

  Emma eventually joined her and dropped on to the passenger seat with a heavy thump and yawned. ‘Well, the neighbour definitely saw Rory with a woman matching Fiona’s description, who got into a white Mini at around midnight. He talked to Rory about some sickly bushes in his garden. They were in conversation for quite some time, according to him. Looks like we’ve slammed into another dead end.’

  ‘There’s an outside chance Rory visited Ian after Fiona left his house. We can’t completely discount him. We’ll get Fiona to verify his story tomorrow and see if there are any discrepancies.’

  ‘He doesn’t have a motive for killing Ian, though, does he? Alex, maybe, if he wanted Fiona and Alex’s money, but Ian? I feel like we’re going around and around in circles,’ said Emma.

  Kate started up the car and pulled away. ‘You’ll feel more optimistic after a night’s sleep.’

  ‘I wish. A night’s sleep would be a luxury. My brain won’t let me rest. It keeps going over and over stuff, even though I know it serves no purpose, and I can’t sleep.’

  ‘Insomnia goes hand in hand with this line of work. You’ll be fine once we’ve cracked it.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How do you cope with . . . everything?’

  ‘Simple answer is, I don’t. I focus on one thing at a time and hope it overrules all the other shit going on in my head.’

  Emma opened her mouth then immediately closed it again, but Kate spotted it. ‘Something else you want to ask, Emma?’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about the investigation. I—’

  ‘Like I said. I focus on one thing at a time.’

  Emma gave a quiet ‘Uh-huh’ in response and Kate focused on the road, discussion dropped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  SUNDAY, 6 JUNE – LATE EVENING

  Kate had only been home ten minutes when the doorbell chimed. She opened up to find Faith on her doorstep. The yellow loose-fitting top and tight jeans she wore suited her far better than the laboratory coat or protective clothing Kate had only ever seen her in.

  Faith thrust a bottle of wine in her direction. ‘I know it’s late on a Sunday night, but I was in the area and Ervin keeps suggesting I drop by to say hi to you, so . . . here I am. You do drink wine, don’t you? It’s chilled.’

  Kate hadn’t had a visitor for so long she’d almost forgotten how to react. Unusually flustered, she invited the woman into her home. ‘Come in.’

  ‘No. I don’t want to disturb you. I only came by to give you the wine – a sort of thank-you. It was nice chatting to you the other day . . . and I haven’t met many other friendly faces.’

  ‘Come in. I can’t drink this alone.’

  ‘Only if you’re sure.’

  Kate opened the door wide. ‘I’m sure.’

  Faith followed her into the kitchen and took in the room, turning a full 360 degrees. ‘Wow! You have a lovely house.’

  Kate looked up from a drawer where she was rooting about for a corkscrew. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Did you do it up yourself?’ Faith ran a hand over the ruby-red ceramic backsplash tiles behind the Belfast sink. Kate and Chris had argued over them. She’d wanted ordinary cream tiles, but he’d chosen wildly overpriced ones fired in a kiln in some provincial town in Italy, insisting they would brighten up the clinical-looking kitchen. She’d acquiesced, and red cookware had also been brought in to harmonise with the tiles, followed by matching picture frames and red stools, and eventually she’d been forced to agree he’d been right all along. The place had benefitted from the splashes of colour.

  ‘It took us twenty-three months to get it to this standard – almost two years of living in dust and disarray and cooking on a camping gas stove. I thought we’d never get there. It was a bloody nightmare.’

  ‘But worth it. It’s beautiful.’ Faith picked up a gleaming stoneware bowl, carefully perched on cream shelves beside the cooker. Kate winced. She hated people moving or touching her prized possessions. The red-glazed ripple bowl had been a present from Chris, and was the most expensive bowl she’d ever owned . . .

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she says.

  ‘It’s French, hand-made and, well . . . I know it can’t replace yours, but it comes with love.’

  She feels the undulations and strokes the cool porcelain. ‘It didn’t matter.’

  ‘Well, we both know it did.’

  He’d accidentally knocked the bowl in question off the sink and it had shattered into fragments on the floor. It had been a plain green bowl with a faded rose on the side and nothing special to look at, but it had belonged to her mother and had only been on the draining board because it had got dusty and Kate had washed it. She’d felt a pain when it had shattered – a real pain of loss. She had so few reminders of her mother but, seeing Chris’s face, she hadn’t made a fuss. Crying or getting angry with him wouldn’t mend the bowl. It was, like her mother, gone for ever. She lifts up the new bowl, catches the earnest look in his eyes. He is eager to please and to make her happy.

  ‘Sometimes, it’s better to leave the past behind and make new memories,’ she says.

  She places the bowl on the shelf. It already means the world to her.

  Kate passed a glass to Faith, who lifted it high. ‘Cheers. Thank you for making me feel welcome.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘For one thing, you invited me into your home . . . on a Sunday night, when you are probably tired and only want to put your feet up. I hope you don’t mind me
landing on you like this.’

  ‘No, it’s nice to have company. You settling in okay? How long have you been here?’

  ‘Almost a month. I was in Coventry before that.’

  ‘I thought you came straight from UCL to Stoke?’

  ‘I wanted to, but there weren’t any openings, so I took up a position at Coventry until one came free with Ervin. It was worth the wait. That man knows so much. I feel like I’m learning a huge amount every day.’

  ‘So, what did you do in Coventry?’

  ‘Digital forensics. It was . . . dull! It’s so time-consuming and laborious and lonely. I worked in a lab on my own and hardly ever left it. I didn’t know Coventry had a cathedral until last week!’ Her laugh was light and filled the room. It had been a long time since the house had heard laughter.

  Kate sipped her wine and listened to Faith’s account of the cybercrime unit and her time there. ‘And you know nothing about Stoke, because Ervin keeps you locked away in his lab,’ she said eventually.

  ‘No . . . but I’m far happier here. Ervin is great. I was elated when he finally offered me an assistant’s position.’

  She beamed, and Kate found herself emulating the smile. Tension eased from her shoulder muscles and she realised for once she was feeling relaxed – all thanks to Faith and her easy manner. ‘Have you had the chance to get out and about much? Stoke’s full of history and some interesting places to visit. Trentham Gardens. You should go there, and to the Wedgwood Museum.’

  ‘I’ve spent so much time in the laboratory I haven’t had much opportunity to see what’s available. I haven’t even had time to visit the main shopping centre. You’d think I’d have found time for some retail therapy.’ She chuckled. ‘It’s all quite different to home.’

  ‘Where’s home?’ Kate was genuinely interested.

  ‘I come from a town called Juliasdale, but I lived and studied in Harare for three years, so it became home, and then London, although I was ready to leave. Too big and noisy for me.’

  ‘Do you miss Zimbabwe?’

  Faith shrugged. ‘Of course, but I wanted to see something of the world, find out how other departments in other countries conduct investigations, and when I finally get fed up of travelling and learning, I’ll take all the knowledge I’ve accumulated back with me and take up a lecturing post at the university.’

  Kate took another sip and became aware that it had been a while since she’d shared a glass of wine with a friend. ‘What about the other UCL students? Do you stay in touch with any of them?’

  ‘Gosh, no. I was too busy studying.’

  ‘Didn’t you take time off?’

  ‘Not really. My goals were to get certified and then get on to an MSc course. I wasn’t interested in socialising. Sure, I had the odd night out, but those friends have all moved on since then.’

  Kate could understand. She’d been equally determined to advance her own career, and until she’d met Chris hadn’t had much of a social life either. ‘What about your family? Do you ever Skype or FaceTime them?’

  The mood suddenly shifted and Faith dropped her gaze. ‘No. As I told you – I don’t stay in touch with my sister and I have no other relations. At present, it suits me to be here. It’s quite liberating to leave everyone and everything you’ve ever known behind.’

  Kate wondered if Tilly had felt the same way when she’d boarded the plane to Australia. Faith’s voice sounded like it was at the end of a tunnel, and the edges of Kate’s world were taking on a familiar fuzziness, brought about by the wine and the pills, which had rustled enticingly in her pocket as she’d walked through the door.

  ‘And then, I got this awesome opportunity to come and work with Ervin.’ Faith took another sip of wine and, looking around the kitchen, her eyes fell on a photograph of Kate and Chris in a red wooden frame. It had been taken during one of Ervin’s famous Christmas parties, when both had consumed too much alcohol and were pulling faces at the camera.

  ‘Your husband?’

  ‘Yes. Chris.’

  ‘Is he a policeman too?’

  ‘Journalist.’

  Faith nodded approvingly. ‘Good-looking guy.’

  Kate glanced at the picture again. Chris had strong features and a wide smile that made him look permanently content with life, and earnest, almost hypnotic eyes. ‘What about you?’ she asked Faith. ‘You got anybody special in your life?’

  ‘I was married for a brief while, to a professor. Crazy, really. It didn’t work out. I was too young for such a commitment. Besides, my work is my first love.’

  ‘I was engaged to somebody else before I met Chris.’ Kate wondered why she was opening up to a complete stranger. The pills . . . the wine. She ought to shut up before she said too much, but still she mumbled, ‘He dumped me and broke my heart. I wasn’t interested in looking for love again after that and buried myself in work, a bit like you have, and then I met Chris. Got the best of both worlds. I’ve been lucky.’

  Faith raised her glass. ‘So there’s still a chance I’ll find happiness, like you have.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Faith, changing the subject. ‘Did you find anything useful on Ian Wentworth’s laptop?’

  ‘A lot of it had been deleted, but we discovered he was into porn, young men, possibly even S&M.’

  Faith didn’t seem fazed by the information. ‘It takes all sorts, I suppose. I wonder if that’s what led to his death – angry boyfriend. Who knows? People can behave in a number of strange ways. I take it the cases are related?’

  ‘We’re pretty certain we’re looking for the same killer or killers, but, to be honest, we’re struggling at the moment.’

  ‘Is there nothing the forensic team can do to speed things up?’

  ‘Magic up some evidence so we know where to look next.’ Kate drained her glass, pushed it away from her and decided she couldn’t face another. She needed to eat something and then try to sleep.

  Faith must have picked up her vibe because she also finished her drink in one gulp and then gathered up her bag. ‘I don’t want to outstay my welcome. It’s late and I’ve got a bus to catch. Thank you again for inviting me in.’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Anything at all.’

  Kate accompanied her to the door and waved her off, watching her tread lightly down the path in the direction of the bus stop at the end of the road. She shut the door. If she hadn’t drunk the wine, she’d have offered to give Faith a lift home. It was nice of her to come out of her way to visit.

  She opened the fridge door and realised she’d forgotten to shop. It was almost empty apart from some cheese and a few tomatoes. She sniffed at the Brie, then shoved it back on the shelf. She couldn’t face it. The wine churned in her stomach. She helped herself to a couple of rice cakes instead and, chewing as she went, headed towards the stairs. She hesitated by Chris’s office door before tapping lightly on it. ‘You in there, Chris? I’m going to bed.’

  There was no reply.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  MONDAY, 7 JUNE – MORNING

  Slap, slap, slap.

  Kate jogged in the half-light at a steady pace. There were only a handful of other early-morning runners and dog walkers in Queen’s Park, a place where she had regularly trained before the life-changing incident on the train in January. Since then the rhythm of her life had been so severely disrupted she’d barely managed to maintain any fitness regime.

  She’d woken early after a restless night and decided to run off some of the effects of the alcohol and pills from the night before. Queen’s Park was one of the city’s heritage parks and housed several characterful buildings, once lodges, as well as ample recreational facilities. It was well known for its winding pathways lined with striking copper beech trees, its horticulture and its lakes, one of which she ran beside, accompanied by a cacophony of beating wings, honks and squawks from the awakening wildfowl.

  A man
bounded past her, head down, earphones jammed in. Kate preferred to run without music. She liked to hear what was going on around her, her senses on permanent alert. She pressed on towards the avenue of trees that led to the elaborate stone clock tower, her mind on Ian Wentworth. Had he also been drugged? A small terrier darted from the bushes by the tower and snapped at her heels, causing her to look down momentarily and lose her footing. She stumbled and crashed to the ground, winded and disorientated . . .

  Kate takes huge, gulping breaths. The assailant is crumpled on the floor at her feet, features obscured by a crimson mask. The side of his head is caved in; a pulpy hole in his temple.

  Kate makes low, guttural noises, sounds she can’t control. The buzzing in her head is coming from the blood coursing through her veins. A woman with auburn hair has her back to her. The gunman shot her twice, once in the head and again in the back.

  They’ll never find out why this man performed such an atrocious, callous act. Her eyes are filled with hot tears that stream down her face. She can’t bring herself to look at the body of the child at her mother’s feet. It would be her undoing.

  A voice brought her back. ‘Are you all right?’ It was the runner she’d spotted earlier.

  She staggered to her feet. ‘I’m okay. Thanks. A dog—’ She turned to hunt for the animal, but it had vanished.

  ‘A little terrier?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It was racing about the bowling green earlier. I think it’s a stray.’

  ‘I’m fine. A bit winded, but nothing’s broken.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’