“Don’t be silly, I’m your best friend.”
Nightshade shook her head. “You’ve done more than enough.”
“I’m coming,” Olivia insisted.
They climbed out of the Mini and Emma retrieved the birthday box from the back seat. Olivia opened the boot, emptied her gym bag, and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” Emma slid the box inside, zipped up the bag, and strode toward the tube station. “We need to see Mum, tell her about Uncle Martin, and ask for Ruby’s address.”
“If the police haven’t already told your mother what’s happened,” Nightshade said.
“They won’t know how to get hold of her,” Emma said. “She could be anywhere in London, and Mum doesn’t give her number out to just anyone.”
“Wait.” Olivia jogged to catch up. “The cops might look for us down there.” She gestured at the station. “I have a better idea.” Olivia took Emma’s hand and the three of them hurried across the road and up a short flight of steps. They marched along a pontoon and onto Embankment Pier—a covered jetty running parallel to the Thames.
“We need tickets,” Emma said.
Olivia held up her phone. “Taken care of.”
A few minutes later, a river taxi pulled in. They stepped on board and headed toward the stern.
“I’m taking some air.” Nightshade strode through the rear door, stood on the stern of the boat, and gazed at the river.
Emma and Olivia sat inside, where it was warm. Emma, nearest the window, watched Embankment Pier glide away.
Olivia rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I just want this over with,” Emma murmured.
Olivia took her hand and interlaced their fingers. “I’ll do whatever I can to help, Em. You know that.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you.”
“I appreciate you too.”
They’d been best friends on and off for over a decade, brought together by tragedy. Olivia’s brother, Liam Hayes, and Emma’s older sister Alice had dated each other. The couple had dreamed of living in America, but those fantasies came to an abrupt end when Liam took an overdose and accidentally drowned in his parents’ pool.
Olivia had been inconsolable. Emma would never forget the funeral, complete with white horses and carriages. Hundreds of mourners lined the streets, paying their respects to a well-known London ‘family.’
Alice had taken it hard. She’d blamed herself, and had left London after a blazing row with her parents. She’d promised Emma she could visit once she was settled, then boarded a cruise ship to New York.
Alice never reached the other side. She jumped overboard somewhere in the mid-Atlantic.
Even though Emma knew Alice was dead, she often imagined her sister living in Manhattan or maybe small-town America with her own family. Loved, happy, content, and out of range of the Greco and Hernandez families’ drama.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” Emma whispered. “The person who killed Uncle Martin—we think they also killed Sophie.”
Olivia covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Em, that’s awful.” Then she frowned. “Are you sure it’s the same guy? Maybe it was—”
“Retaliation? That Dad had Martin killed as revenge for Sophie’s murder?”
Olivia winced. “Sorry, that was out of order. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. It’s what the killer wants people to believe.” Emma sighed. “It feels . . . I dunno. It just feels like someone is trying to start a war between the families.” She held up a finger. “First they killed Sophie in Mum’s warehouse.” Emma raised a second finger. “Then they stole an artifact from the vault.” Emma held up a third finger. “And they murdered Uncle Martin.” Regret gnawed her insides. If only they’d found him sooner . . . Emma looked away as she pictured a shadowy monster forcing her uncle into the tank.
“How did they break into the vault?” Olivia asked.
Emma looked back at her. “You need two sets of codes to access the basement. Uncle Martin had one of them.” As the boat pulled into Blackfriars, Emma gazed at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. “Ruby’s got the second code,” she said. “We have to try and open the puzzle box, but without the combination—”
“Ruby should still be our next line of enquiry.” Nightshade dropped into the seat on the other side of Olivia. “The previous clue led us to Martin, but too late. Let’s put the box aside for now; we need to warn Ruby.” She glanced about her. “I’ve had time to think, and I say we delay visiting your mother. We must take control of the situation before it’s too late. Please can you send a text to Maria asking for Ruby’s home address. We’ll see her afterward.”
Emma was about to argue when her phone vibrated. She pulled it from her pocket and read the screen. “I guess we’re sticking with Plan A.” She looked at Nightshade. “Text from Mum. She says she’s got something important to tell us, and to meet her at Greenwich. Immediately.”
24
Maria Hernandez owned two homes in London. This, the more unusual, was a short walk from Greenwich Pier, and it was unlikely the police would find out about it.
The converted Victorian water tower stood an impressive six storeys high, built of red brick, with tall leaded windows, and topped with a roof terrace surrounded by battlements. At the base of the tower sat a security hut with a guard and a German Shepherd chained to the wall.
“Looks like Mum has increased the security since I was last here,” Emma said.
The dog bared its teeth and growled.
Nightshade and Olivia stopped short, but Emma kept moving, not making eye contact with the dog, and remained calm.
When she was a few feet away, the growls deepened and increased in volume. Emma turned around and backed toward the animal slowly, now with a smile. The growls subsided and by the time she reached the German Shepherd it had relaxed and now sniffed the back of her legs.
Olivia gawped at her.
Nightshade grinned.
“I’m letting him check me out and realise I’m not a threat.” Emma remained still as the dog followed its instincts.
Olivia took a step forward and the dog growled at her.
“Hey now.” Emma squatted down, offered her hand, palm up, then scratched the dog’s chin.
“Can I help you?” The guard stepped from the hut and frowned at her, and then at the pacified German Shepherd.
Emma stood up. “We’re here to see Maria Hernandez.”
The guard eyed her, then the others. “And you are?”
“I’m her daughter. She’s expecting us.”
The guard checked his phone, then reached for Emma's bag, but she pulled away.
“I need to see it,” he said. “Or you can leave it here with me. Your choice.” Before Emma could argue, the guard looked at Olivia. “You’ll have to wait here. I don’t have you on my list.”
“No,” Emma said. “She’s coming with us.”
The guard shook his head. “Boss’s orders.”
Emma contemplated calling her mother.
“It’s okay, Em.” Olivia gave the guard dog a wide berth and took the bag from her. “I’ll stay.”
“Thanks. Won’t be long.” Emma headed on in with Nightshade.
Maria’s extensive motorbike collection took up the whole ground floor: everything from Hondas, Yamahas and Kawasakis to Indians, Triumphs and Harley-Davidsons. Old signs and engine parts took up every inch of wall space, all lovingly mounted. On a pair of rotating plinths, lit by movie studio spotlights, sat Maria’s pride and joys: a Legendary British Vintage Black, and a custom Ducati Desmosedici.
Nightshade let out a low whistle.
“Mum races classic motorcycles.” Emma gestured at a glass cabinet bursting with trophies. Then she pointed at a Royal Enfield complete with a Watsonian sidecar. “She’s taken me on a million rides. That’s one thing I’ll miss when I leave.” If they solved the murders. If they didn’t, she’d have to move back in with her mother and be under p
ermanent armed guard.
Emma and Nightshade hurried up a twisting staircase to the next floor, which showed nothing but a hallway with doors.
The floor above held the kitchen and dining area, an octagonal room with cupboards on four of the walls. A range cooker dominated the space.
But the next floor up contained a lounge area with double-height ceilings. A metal balcony with library shelves circled the space. The interior decor here was more modern but filled with soft furnishings that invited relaxation and quiet reflection. One window gave an unobstructed view of the Cutty Sark: a three-mast clipper ship built in the late 1800s, and now a tourist attraction in a dry dock.
Maria was sitting on a giant sofa heaped with cushions and throws. She sipped a cocktail, but looked anything but relaxed. Her knuckles stretched white as she gripped the glass, her jaw clenched.
Emma dropped onto the sofa beside her, while Nightshade sat in a high-backed armchair next to an open fireplace.
“Hell of a day so far.” Maria held up her glass. “Would you like one?”
“No thanks.” The thought of a drink made Emma’s stomach churn, and the night before pounded at her temples as a reminder to steer clear of alcohol for a while.
Maria took another sip.
“Mac and Neil got arrested,” Nightshade said.
Emma winced.
“Mac?” Maria’s eyes narrowed at Emma. “How does—?” She shook herself. “Neil? For what?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Now she was here, Emma wanted to put off the horrific news for as long as possible. “What’s this mega-important thing you wanted to tell us?”
Maria’s hands trembled as she set the drink down and faced her. “I don’t know how, but the Volinari have informed me they know about the missing Droeshout casket.”
Emma frowned. “How did they find out?”
“Best guess is your father took it upon himself to negotiate with them. See if he could get us out of the mess we’re in.” Maria closed her eyes, let out a slow breath, and looked at Emma again. “The Volinari have given me twenty-four hours to find it.”
Nightshade shrugged. “Why should we be afraid?”
“You don’t cross the Volinari,” Maria said in a cold tone. “They will make every one of us suffer for what I’ve lost.”
Several seconds of silence followed this proclamation, only broken by the ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece and the crackling fire.
Maria stood up, walked to the window and stared out across London, hands clasped behind her back. “The Volinari are a secret society who oversee, assist, and in some cases, police organised crime. They started in Rome, and now inhabit almost every corner of the planet.” She glanced at Emma. “That’s fantastic when they’re on your side, with tentacles everywhere, and links to every conceivable thing you might want or need, but that power comes at a price.” She sighed. “And it’s a disaster to cross them.”
Emma folded her arms. “I’ve never heard you or Dad mention a secret society before.”
“You cannot pay them off or reason with them,” Maria continued. “Once you come to an agreement, there’s no backing out.” She lifted her chin. “Whatever happens, we must find the Droeshout casket. It’s the most important thing.”
Emma tensed. It wasn’t the most important thing at all. She opened her mouth to tell her mother the terrible news, but Nightshade cut across her.
“If you knew the Volinari were so dangerous then why the hell did you make a deal with them in the first place?” Nightshade took a breath. “Let me get this straight. When you planned to steal the terracotta warrior, you found a buyer first?”
Maria nodded.
“The deal was to swap the warrior for the casket,” Nightshade continued. “That, and cash. The Volinari paid and gave you the casket. All you had to do was deliver the warrior, but now we know it’s a fake, you must return the casket and the money or face the consequences.”
Maria looked away.
Emma stared at her. “Why do I feel like there’s more to it?”
“That wasn’t the entire deal.” Maria perched on the edge of the sofa. “Part of it involved your sister.”
Emma frowned. “What about her?”
“I wanted information.” Maria stared at the floor. “The Volinari said they had it. They wouldn’t lie.”
Emma blinked at her. “But Alice is dead.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Maria murmured.
“Mum, we’ve been through this a million times,” Emma said. “Alice jumped off that ship. She drowned.”
Maria gave her a hard look. “No one saw her do anything.”
“Uncle Luca said she didn’t arrive at the port in New York. He went to meet her, and she wasn’t there.” Annoyance tugged at Emma’s insides, and she fought to compose herself. “Mum, there’s something I need to tell you—”
“What information do you think the Volinari have on Alice?” Nightshade steepled her fingers and rested them under her chin. “For you to risk so much, you must believe they have something important. What is it?”
“She’s alive,” Maria said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Emma jumped to her feet. “I don’t believe it.”
“If there’s even a chance . . . ” A tear rolled down Maria’s cheek and her expression softened. “Help me get that casket back. If I return it to the Volinari, I’ll see if I can find something else in exchange. I’m willing to offer anything they want. The Volinari know what really happened on the cruise ship. As things stand, I can’t simply pay them.”
Emma shook her head. “We’re trying to catch a killer, not chase ghosts.”
“What progress have you made on finding Ruby?” Nightshade asked Maria. “It’s vital we see her next.”
“She switched her phone off,” Maria said. “I called her husband and he said Ruby hasn’t been home since yesterday morning when she left for work.”
Emma’s face fell.
“No one has seen her since she left the warehouse?” Nightshade asked.
“Ruby called her husband later to say she was going on a business trip.” Maria snorted. “Lies.” She eyed her cocktail. “If you ask me, Ruby’s having an affair. I’m more worried about Martin; it’s unlike him not to answer his phone. I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. I was about to go round to his house. Carlos just called to say he’s not answering the door.”
Emma sat beside her mother and took her hands. “Mum, I’ve got some very bad news.”
25
Maria sobbed into her hands while Emma rubbed her back and tried to console her.
“I can’t believe Martin’s gone,” Maria said. “I only spoke to him yesterday. We planned to have a meal together tomorrow night.” Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Emma. “He was going to show me one of his new magic tricks.” Her lips trembled. “Martin always gets—got—so excited about them.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over her.
“I don’t understand.” Maria sniffed. “Who would—” Her expression changed from grief to anger in an instant, pulling her lips into a snarl. A split second later, Maria erupted from the sofa and hurled her cocktail glass at the wall. It hit the brickwork and shattered into a thousand splinters. She rounded on Emma. “Your father did this as revenge for Sophie.”
Emma recoiled. “Mum. No.”
“Richard lost someone close to him, so he snatched Martin from me.” Maria grabbed a Tiffany lamp from the table and hurled that too. It smashed into the nearest window, breaking both. Then she seized her phone from the table, dialled and pressed it to her ear. “If Richard wants a war, he’s got one.”
Emma stood up. “Mum, please calm down and think this through.”
“May I remind you that you’re the person who potentially started a war by stealing the terracotta warrior from one of Richard’s tenants.” Nightshade remained seated, hands rested on her knees. “That event then led to his fianc
ée’s untimely death.”
Emma spun round. “Not helping.”
Maria’s face flushed and she looked as though she were about to erupt again. “Carlos,” she said into the phone. “Ready the army. You’ve finally got your wish. Have them meet me in twenty minutes.” She ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa.
Emma’s chest tightened so much she struggled to breathe. “Please listen, Mum.”
But Maria paid her no attention. “How could he?”
Panicked, Emma looked at Nightshade for help.
“Six hours.” Nightshade stood up, buttoned her military coat, and tightened her scarf. “Maria?”
“What?” she said through a clenched jaw.
“Give us six hours. If we haven’t found the killer by then, you’re free to do whatever you see fit.”
Maria shook her head. “Your time is up. You had your chance and you failed.”
“We haven’t failed.” Emma moved in front of her mother and their eyes met. “You and Dad have protected me my entire life. You kept me safe.” Emma rested her hands on her mother’s shoulders. “Let me repay you. Dad didn’t kill Uncle Martin. Someone else is doing this, and they want to start a war. You must be able to see that.”
Maria stared back at her. “You just want to go to America. You’ll say anything.”
Emma released her. “I do, but that’s insignificant right now. What I want most is to stop you and Dad from killing each other and hurting innocent people along the way.” Emma continued to look into her mother’s eyes. “When this is over, I’ll have more reason to leave.”
Maria frowned.
“Alice,” Nightshade said.
“If there’s the slightest chance you’re right,” Emma said, “even the smallest glimmer of hope that we can find out what happened to her, I want to be the one to do it.”
“My credibility is on the line,” Maria said. “Neither family can know that I was duped by a forgery.”
“But the statue you looked at in Mr Chen’s office was real,” Emma said. “You couldn’t have known it would be swapped with a fake when they moved it.”
Death in London: A Nightshade Crime Thriller (Emma & Nightshade Mystery Series Book 1) Page 14
