by Eva Hudson
“You joined the FBI at the same time?”
Ingrid nodded, regretting having brought the subject up. She tried to remember what Marshall had been like eight years ago. Her one abiding memory of him then was his old fashioned Southern charm. He was popular with all the female trainees. When he asked her out five years later, he not only impressed her with his charm, but with his tireless hard work and ambition. They had both wanted to make a difference back then. She wasn’t sure either of them had achieved anything close.
“I can see you’re a bit uncomfortable talking about it. Now it’s my turn to apologize for being too personal.”
“Oh, not at all. I was just lost in a little reminiscence.”
“And the long distance thing is working out OK for you?”
Ingrid thought about why she’d agreed to take on the embassy job in the first place. She’d needed time to work out what she wanted in her life. She’d hoped a little space and distance from her old job, and from Marshall, would help her in the decision making process. But she still hadn’t worked out what it was she wanted. Thinking about it now, she hadn’t really missed Marshall in the five months she’d been away. “Oh it’s working out fine.”
Mbeke frowned at her, making it quite clear he didn’t believe her.
Ingrid wondered just how much she and Marshall truly needed one another. What they continued to get out of their relationship. As she smiled blandly across the table at Mbeke, she knew she had some serious thinking to do.
26
“And what happened after that?” Natasha McKittrick had agreed to come apartment hunting with Ingrid. She should never have mentioned her brief supper with Mbeke to the detective inspector. Now McKittrick just wouldn’t let it go.
“We pretty much agreed on a strategy to implement going forward. All resources are now focused on finding Hernandez.”
She grabbed Ingrid’s shoulder. “You do realize Mills can never find out about your date. He’ll be devastated.”
“For crying out loud! How many more times? It wasn’t a date. I don’t go on dates. Ingrid turned back toward the real estate agent’s window. “I’ve got a new home to find.” She glanced at the details of the two or three rentals that were both in the right price range and more or less a fifteen minute motorcycle ride from the embassy. None of them screamed ‘pick me!’ at her. Maybe this was a mistake. Perhaps staying at the hotel made more sense.
“I can’t understand why you’d voluntarily walk away from four star luxury and twenty-four-hour room service,” McKittrick said, somehow reading Ingrid’s mind. “Not to mention having someone else wash and iron your clothes for you.”
“The novelty wears off after a while.”
“Does this mean you’re planning on staying in the UK? Only you’ve never actually said how permanent your posting is.”
“The Bureau will pay rent for the first six months, so maybe I’m here that long.”
“And what does Marshall think about that?”
Ingrid turned away and marched to the door of the realtor’s. “Are you helping me find an apartment or not?”
“Oh my God—you haven’t told him yet, have you?”
“I haven’t had the chance—every time I call he’s busy.”
“Time to take the bull by the horns—why not call him right now?”
Ingrid ignored her and stepped through the door, leaving McKittrick stranded on the sidewalk. After a few moments the detective slunk into the office, her head angled toward the floor.
“I’m sorry—I genuinely didn’t realize this was an issue for you.”
“It isn’t—I’ll call Marshall when I’m good and ready. I may not even find an apartment.” She headed toward the desk beneath the ‘lettings’ sign and waited for the agent to get off the phone. He smiled up at her.
“How can I help you two ladies today?”
Behind her, McKittrick let out a little groan and mumbled ‘Ladies’ in a sarcastic tone.
“In the window—you have details of a couple of apartments I’d be interested in seeing.”
“Sure, no problem.” He got up. “Care to show me which ones?”
After an extended, and clearly, as far as McKittrick was concerned, tedious few minutes of small talk, the agent took Ingrid’s details and they headed off in his logo-emblazoned Mini to the first apartment in Maida Vale. Ingrid had selected the area because it was a straight run from there to the embassy along Edgware Road. She’d be door to door in ten minutes most days. The small talk continued in the car until McKittrick put a stop to it when the agent asked them if it was their first home together.
“I’m not her partner,” the detective told him firmly. “I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t get ripped off.”
Ingrid was more than capable of ensuring that for herself, but she let McKittrick continue to harangue the guy for the rest of the ten minute car ride and throughout the viewing of the first apartment. It was actually quite entertaining to watch McKittrick ask the agent a series of awkward questions about both the property and the lease that he struggled to answer.
They finally exited the two-bedroom duplex on Elgin Avenue and the detective let rip. “Do you really think anyone would be desperate enough to live in a place like that? It’s barely fit for human habitation.”
“The rental market in this area is highly competitive,” the agent said. “Properties are snapped up before we can even print out the details.”
“OK—show us one of those,” Ingrid chimed in.
“I’m sorry?”
“One of the highly-sought after residences that everyone is clamoring for.”
“It’s not quite as simple as that. We’ve got people on waiting lists. I can’t just let you jump the queue.”
“Oh, come on. I bet you’ve got something so new it hasn’t even made it onto your books yet.” Ingrid treated him to her most fulsome smile. Then she pulled her badge from her purse. “I’ll be a very reliable tenant.”
He wrinkled his nose while he considered her request. “Oh, what the hell.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I only got the instruction yesterday. Haven’t see the property myself yet. It won’t have been cleaned or anything.”
“I think I have the imagination to see beyond a little dirt.”
“It’s in a mansion block—all services included in the rent. Fully furnished. About five minutes away. On the Maida Vale—St John’s Wood borders.” He said it like it was meant to impress her.
“Sounds perfect.”
It was a little more than five minutes, the property was on the far eastern edge of the area Ingrid had identified, but as soon as she walked through the apartment door she knew she had to have it. It was on the top floor, which meant it was light and airy and had fantastic views right across Regent’s Park. Leading off the square lobby area were five doors. The one right opposite the apartment door led into a large, high-ceilinged living area, sparsely furnished, white walled and wooden floored. Just the way she liked her apartments. She stood at the southern-facing of the two windows and gazed toward the park. Between the two windows was a door. Ingrid tried the handle—it was locked.
“Do you have the key?”
The real estate agent produced a key from a pocket and opened the door. It led out onto a small roof terrace. Ingrid stepped outside and inhaled. This was why she had to get out of the hotel: she needed to see the sky when she woke in the morning—to get a sense of space. She turned back toward the agent, he was barely inches away, literally breathing down her neck. “Can I have a little time to think about it?”
He looked at his watch. “I have another appointment at one.”
“Plenty of time then.” Ingrid waited for him to go back inside. She could stay up here all day.
McKittrick joined her. “I’m guessing you’re sold on it?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Might want to lose the big soppy grin that’s been on your face since we set foot over the thre
shold, if you’re going to stand any chance of negotiating a good deal.”
“Don’t worry—my dad taught me how to haggle.”
“I look forward to seeing you in action.”
Ingrid walked to the rail at the edge of the roof terrace and surveyed the horizon through one-eighty degrees. Already her head felt clearer than it had in weeks.
“What’s next for you today? Going back to work?” McKittrick asked.
“How did you guess?”
“You are in the middle of two investigations with so many loose ends you could crochet them together and make a hat. What else are you going to do on a glorious Saturday afternoon?”
“You know me so well.”
“What can you usefully do on the weekend anyway?”
“Go through the files again, read up a little more on Darryl Wyatt, the ex-congresswoman, the City trader. Maybe find something I’ve missed.”
“You’re still convinced there’s a connection between the dead Latvian and the trader?”
Ingrid closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face for a moment. “Convinced is too strong a word. I’m keeping an open mind.”
“Have you worked out what his motive might have been for killing the Latvian woman?”
“She was accessing his bank account back in the US. Getting a little too close to his former identity. She was a security risk, I guess.”
“But if he’s… what did you tell me earlier… a narcissistic sociopath?”
Ingrid nodded.
“And that means he’s a meticulous planner…”
Ingrid nodded again.
“Then why leave his bank details lying around for the Latvian to discover?”
“I don’t have that worked out yet. Which is why I need to go back to base and do some more digging.”
“All work and no play.”
“I’ll fit in a little parkour before the end of the day. A few easy moves.”
“And that’s your idea of fun?”
“Closest I’ll ever get to flying. Maybe you should give it a try.”
“I’ll stick to taking the stairs and getting off the tube a couple of stops early for my exercise, thanks very much. I don’t know how you fit it all in. Oh no, wait, I remember—you don’t have a social life.”
“Gee thanks.”
The real estate agent was knocking on the glass and pointing at his wristwatch.
“Time for some deal making.” Ingrid rubbed her hands together.
“This I’ve got to see.” McKittrick grabbed Ingrid’s arm as she started to head back to the roof terrace door. “I really think you should take a break from work. Maybe it’d give you a fresh perspective. A new look at everything on Monday might really help you crack the case.”
Ingrid wondered what might be coming next. Hopefully not another invite to a goddamn awful flea market. She’d tried it once and vowed never to do it again. “What do you suggest?”
“Funny you should say that.”
The realtor banged on the glass again.
“All right!” McKittrick hollered at him. “A few colleagues have arranged an unofficial team building exercise for tomorrow—it’s an excuse to let off a bit of steam, really. I wouldn’t mind having you come along for moral support.”
“You think you’ll need it?”
“Even off the job, they still think of me as their boss, they can be a bit guarded around me.”
“You could just not go.”
“They’ve gone to the trouble of inviting me. I can’t say no. I’d appreciate a little company.” She started walking toward the door. “God—I’m not going to beg.”
“OK. I’ll come.”
“Fantastic! I owe you one.”
Having a detective inspector of the Metropolitan Police in your debt had to be a good thing. Ingrid stopped before they went inside. “Wait a minute. Will Ralph Mills be there?”
“Don’t worry—I’ll make sure he doesn’t get anywhere near you. I know what trouble you have keeping your hands off him.”
27
Ingrid’s digging into the case files on the FBI database all Saturday afternoon and most of the evening produced no new leads. She was still waiting for Mike Stiller to get back to her about Barbara Highsmith’s cases from her Assistant US Attorney days. Mike worked long hours, but she couldn’t ask him to give up his weekend for her. So—reluctantly—she left the embassy with as many loose ends as she had before she embarked on her marathon trawl of the records.
After a light thirty-minute parkour session on the south bank of the Thames near Waterloo railway station—it was pretty much a playground for free-runners—she headed back to her hotel for another boring room service dinner and a night in front of the TV. She really did need to get something else to do outside of work: there were only so many walls a girl could scramble over for entertainment.
More than once she pulled her phone from her purse and considered calling Marshall. But what was there to say? “Hey, honey, I’ve just found myself a great new apartment. Oh and I’ve decided to stay on in London for a little while longer.” She could hear his whine of complaint clearly enough in her head without having to suffer the real thing.
With a little time to think, she was also beginning to regret accepting McKittrick’s invitation to attend her ‘bonding day’. The thought of spending that much time with Detective Constable Ralph Mills made her feel more uncomfortable than she knew it should.
So he was a nice guy.
So he made her laugh.
So he reminded her of her very first junior high school crush. She stopped the thought right there, switched channels on the TV and distracted herself with some dark Danish cop show. She struggled to concentrate on the subtitles until sleep finally got the better of her. Investigating two murders in one week had taken its toll.
The next day she skipped her five-mile morning run and spent the time fueling up on a healthy breakfast before embarking on whatever it was McKittrick had planned for her. She had arranged to meet the detective at Kentish Town Tube station in north London and arrived there a little after ten.
“Now will you tell me what we’re going to be doing?” Ingrid asked McKittrick when the detective finally turned up fifteen minutes later than planned.
“First of all—we’re getting on a train.” She strode away, toward the entrance of the overground station. “We, my dear, are going to the country.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we drove?” Ingrid followed her in.
“Might not feel up to getting behind a wheel afterwards.” She strode away.
“After what?” Ingrid joined McKittrick on a bench. The platform was empty apart from a mom and dad struggling to keep two toddlers under control at one end, and a guy in sweats who appeared from the entrance and immediately started some weird T’ai Chi routine, fixing his gaze on the opposite platform.
“I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” McKittrick looked first at the boisterous young family then the man, who was now balancing on one leg. “Let’s make sure we don’t get in the same carriage as the Munsters or the weirdo, all right?”
“Can you at least tell me if I’m dressed suitably for the occasion?”
McKittrick looked at the leather biker jacket, the jeans and the biker boots. “I suppose you’ll do. But I’m not sure you needed the back pack. What’s in there, anyway?”
“Just a flask of water. Some fruit. Something to read. First aid kit.”
“My God, you do like to come prepared.” McKittrick glanced down at the small purse slung over her shoulder. “Must be your FBI training.” She smiled, a twinkle in her eye.
The train came quickly and their journey lasted less than forty minutes. Four people were waiting for them outside the station when they arrived: Detective Constable Ralph Mills, a detective named Cath Murray from the London Crime Squad Ingrid had met for the first time a couple of weeks ago, a smiling petite Indian woman, and a scowling, pink-faced blonde woman who seemed to be a
little self-conscious about the few extra pounds she was carrying. Mills looked surprisingly muscular dressed in track pants and tight tee shirt. It was the first time Ingrid had seen him not wearing his trademark brown suit.
“Ingrid, hi!” Mills called out to her. He nodded toward McKittrick. “Boss.” His smile was wide and generous, Ingrid couldn’t help but beam back at him. “Now, you’ve met Cath, I know… but this is Manisha Kapoor…”
“Please, call me Nisha. It’s a pleasure—we’ve heard so much about you,” the Indian woman said as she shook Ingrid’s hand. Her comment was rewarded with a sharp dig in the ribs from Mills.
“And this is Jane O’Brien,” he said, gesturing toward the self-conscious woman, “who I used to work with at Catford Borough Command a few years back. My first job in CID, as a matter of fact.”
“And you’ve come such a long way, pet,” Jane O’Brien said. “All the way to the H-S-C-C.” This remark, for some reason, was met with guffaws of laughter from Murray and Kapoor.
“What did I miss?” Ingrid asked.
“Nothing at all. They’re all a bit over-excited.” He glared at them. “They were like this all the way here. They don’t get out much.” He smiled at her and turned away. “I’ve booked a cab. Should be here any minute.”
Right on cue, a few moments later, a mini-van pulled into the quiet station’s small forecourt and Mills opened the side door. “All aboard the Skylark,” he said, inexplicably.
Ingrid feared the day ahead might turn out to be long and arduous. No wonder McKittrick wanted a little support. Ingrid already felt like she was missing all the in-jokes. Judging by the glowering look on the detective inspector’s face, she supposed McKittrick was too.
“We were talking on the train,” Murray said, when they had all settled into the taxi. “We think you should maybe compete with one arm tied behind your back. You’ll have an unfair advantage otherwise.”
“I will?” Ingrid looked at McKittrick for guidance. “I still don’t know what we’re doing today.”
