by Roger Hurn
She skipped down the steps and away off down the street without so much as a backward glance. I hit the buzzer a couple more times and then gave it up as a bad job. But at least now I had a plan. I hailed a cab and told the driver to take me to St Ann’s Warehouse. I was hoping that I could persuade Angelica to side with me and convince Monika that it was in Jezebel’s best interest to come home with me, either with or without the manuscript. But, as TS Eliot said, ‘Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act falls the shadow.’ He didn’t have my little plan in mind when he wrote that of course, but he may as well have done because it described what happened next to a T.
Chapter Thirteen
The cabbie dropped me off outside the playhouse. It was a redbrick building in a district of Brooklyn that gloried in the name Dumbo. It had great views of Manhattan, but I wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing and, as the wind coming off the river had more teeth than a buzz saw, I hurried inside the theatre. The foyer was empty but, as I stood there hesitating, a plump woman with a flustered expression and a clipboard came bustling out of a side door. She saw me and her mouth fell open in surprise.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes, I hope so,’ I said briskly. ‘I need to see Monika Pendlas as a matter of urgency.’
She bit her lip and looked round as if she expected Monika to appear out of thin air. Then she peered at me. ‘And you are?’
‘I’m Ryan Kyd. I’m a Private Investigator and I’ve information for Ms Pendlas that she really needs to hear.’
The woman stared at me like I’d suddenly sprouted horns. ‘A Private Investigator? Well, I’m afraid you can’t see her because she’s not here. She should have been here ages ago because everyone’s waiting to begin the read-through … but she hasn’t shown ... and neither’s Angelica … and they’re not answering their cells. So, if you’ll excuse me …’ She started to go, but as she did so, she glanced over my shoulder and an expression of relief flooded across her face. ‘Oh Monika, thank goodness you’re here. Everybody’s waiting for you.’
Monika Pendlas strode into the foyer red-faced and tight-lipped. ‘Yes, yes, all right Lizzie, don’t fuss.’ She clocked me and gave me a look that could have curdled milk. ‘What the fuck are you doing here, Kyd?’
Before I could answer, Lizzie burbled, ‘He says he’s a Private Eye and that he’s got information you need to hear.’
Monika closed her eyes for a second whilst she struggled to control her temper, then she forced herself to smile at Lizzie. ‘Yes, I’m sure he has. Now run along and tell the cast that I’ll be with them in two minutes.’
Lizzie hovered indecisively. ‘Yes, but …’
‘Off you go, Lizzie.’ Monika’s voice was sharp as a blade and Lizzie scuttled away.
Monika turned back to me. ‘OK, Kyd, say what you’ve got to say and then fuck off.’
I decided there was no point in beating about the bush. ‘Jezebel’s in danger. A local hoodlum by the name of Sanjay Kapoor knows about the manuscript and he wants a slice of the action. He’s told me if I don’t get it for him, he’ll send his boys to take it by force and, trust me, I’ve had a run in with them and these guys are animals. So I need you to help me to get her out of New York and back to London while there’s still time.’
‘Yeah, sure you do.’ She put her fists on her hips and stared at me belligerently. ‘That’s a crock of shit. You want Jez back in London so Mulwhinney can get his claws on the manuscript.’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t give a flying fuck about the manuscript, but I don’t want Jez’s blood on my hands … and I don’t think you do either.’
She bunched her fists and I thought for a moment she was going to hit me. ‘Of course I don’t! I’m crazy about that girl.’ Then she sighed and smiled bleakly. ‘And that makes Angel crazy.’
‘So I noticed.’
Maybe I have the sort of open, kindly face that makes people feel they can confide in me … or maybe it was just that Monika was the type of theatrical who loves the confessional … but she opened up.
‘Yes, but the stupid thing is, Jez doesn’t love me and she never has, but Angel can’t accept that. OK, so we had a brief fling when I came to London to run a couple of workshops at the National, but Jez was only playing at it. She’s a girl who wants to try everything and I was one of the things on her to-do list.’
‘And yet you still took her in even though you must have known it was going to cause trouble between you and Angel. Why?’
She shook her head slowly and the ghost of a sad smile touched her lips. ‘Obviously you’ve never been in love with a person you can’t have, Mr Kyd, or you wouldn’t need to ask me that question.’
I could have told her about Carly but, as that miserable old git King Lear said, ‘that way madness lies’, so I gave it the swerve. Instead I went for the jugular. ‘Then stop fannying around and help me talk some bloody sense into her, otherwise I guarantee you that Kapoor’s goons will do things to her that she definitely won’t want to try!’
For a long moment I watched her wrestling with her conscience then she reached a decision. ‘All right, Mr Kyd. I believe you. I’ll help you talk Jez into going home.’
I smiled with relief. ‘And I bet Angelica will be only too pleased to help as well.’
Monika gave me a strange look. ‘Yeah, well, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.’
‘Monika, please.’ It was Lizzie again. She stood at the door wringing her hands and looking completely stressed out. ‘Everyone’s still waiting for you, but they’re not happy about it.’
‘So who am I? Fucking Godot?’ Startled by the vehemence of Monika’s reaction, the hapless gofer took half a step back. Monika winced and softened her tone. ‘Look Lizzie, tell them I said to improvise and have something amazing to show me when I get back this afternoon. You can say it’s a new shock technique I’m pioneering to enhance their creativity.’
Then she turned and marched back out into the street with me following at her heels like a dog.
Chapter Fourteen
It was only a brief cab ride back to the apartment, but it was time enough for Monika and me to have a quick heart-to-heart. She told me she believed Jezebel was telling the truth about the whole business. I said I didn’t know Jez well enough to make a judgement call but, as I sure as hell didn’t like Mulwhinney, I hoped she was. I also admitted that, even though I liked to think I was a pretty tough guy, Sanjay Kapoor and his goons scared the shit out of me.
As I picked up the tab for the cab, I felt we’d reached an understanding on how we were going to handle Jez - and I’m sure it would have worked if only we’d had the chance to put it into action. But I should have remembered that we’re all fortune’s fools.
I knew something was wrong when we saw that the door to Monika’s apartment was open.
‘What the Hell …?’
Monika made as if to rush in, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
‘Best let me check it out,’ I said.
She frowned at me, but nodded. I eased my way into the narrow hallway. I was holding my breath because I could hear someone moving in the main room. I stepped into it and was stunned to see Carmelita. She stared at me like a startled fawn and then glanced down. I followed her gaze and saw Jezebel’s body lying next to the steel and glass coffee table. Jez was wearing a T-shirt and nothing else. I guessed she must have been sleeping when Carmelita arrived and hadn’t bothered to dress before letting her in. Though why Jezebel would let Carmelita into the apartment was beyond me.
Carmelita put her fingertips to her mouth and looked at me pleadingly. ‘I didn’t do it, Ryan, honestly I didn’t. She was dead when I got here.’
‘You fucking bitch! What have you done to Jezzie?’ Monika pushed me aside and rushed over and knelt at Jezebel’s side. I could see that Jez’s eyes were wide open, but that she wasn’t breathing. Monika stroked Jez’s hair and mumbled endearments to her even though Jez would never hear them.
I pulled out my mobile, punched in 911 and told the operator to send an ambulance and the police … but I knew the ambulance crew would be wasting their time. Jezebel was dead.
Carmelita reached out and touched my arm. ‘I was just about to call the police when you arrived, Ryan.’
But, before I could answer, Monika flung herself at Carmelita and the two of them crashed down onto the sofa overturning it. They rolled onto the floor and Carmelita tried to scramble up to her feet but Monika was a big lass and a slender girl like Carmelita was no match for her. Monika knocked her over again and straddled her. She grasped Carmelita by the throat and began throttling the life out of her screaming, ‘You bitch. You fucking bitch!’ as she did so. Her spittle splattered Carmelita’s face and her eyes were wild with the desire to crush the life out of her.
I grabbed Monika’s shoulders and tried to pull her away, but her fury gave her a murderous strength. I had no option but to punch her hard on the side of her jaw. The pain was so sharp that I thought I’d broken my fist, but it was enough to momentarily stun Monika and break her stranglehold. This gave me the opportunity to shove her off Lita and she went sprawling onto the floor.
Lita sat up coughing and rubbing at her throat. Her skin appeared almost blue from the lack of oxygen. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked even though it was a stupid question. She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a weird high pitched kind of croak. Her musical Welsh lilt had been crushed out of existence. I fervently hoped the damage was only temporary because I needed answers.
Monika clambered unsteadily to her feet, but the fury in her eyes had died and she looked miserable beyond imagining. The bruise from where I’d hit her was already beginning to show and I felt a fleeting pang of guilt, but I knew I’d had no other option otherwise the cops would have had a double homicide on their hands.
‘Why did you do it, Carmelita?’
Carmelita shook her head. ‘I didn’t. I admit I came to see Jezebel, but I swear to you that when I arrived the door was open and when I came in here I found her like that.’ I guessed that adrenaline was pumping through her because her voice was growing stronger by the second.
‘Yeah, so you say, but what are you doing here in New York? Mulwhinney’s paying me to get the manuscript back.’
She shook her head. ‘Jason took against you right from the start. He said it was typical of Crispian to fit him up with some arrogant twerp who was obviously incapable of finding his arse with both hands in broad daylight.’ She gave me the tiniest of rueful smiles. ‘Sorry. His words not mine, caryiad. I thought you were the right man for the job.’ I stood there stony-faced. I didn’t give a shit about what Mulwhinney thought of me and I was determined not to fall for her soft soap. She gave the slightest of shrugs and carried on. ‘He thought you’d be putty in Jezebel’s hands and would swallow any sob story she fed you, so he arranged for me to come out on the same flight as you to keep an eye on things … although I was travelling First Class so there was no chance of us bumping into each other.’
‘But how did you track Jezebel down?’
‘Oh, it was easy enough for me to follow you and you led me here… though you did take a bit of a roundabout route.’
‘So all of this is your fucking fault, Kyd. Jezzie would still be alive if you’d done your fucking job properly.’
The fire was back in Monika’s eyes, only this time it was directed at me.
‘Oh shut up, you dyke.’ Carmelita spat the insult at Monika. ‘None of this would’ve happened if Jezebel Montague hadn’t stolen the bloody play in the first place.’
‘She didn’t steal it! That bastard Mulwhinney stole it from her.’
‘Says you, sweetheart.’
Carmelita infused the word “sweetheart” with pure venom. Monika’s face flushed, her body tensed and she bunched up her fists again. Here we go again, I thought as I stepped between the two women in an attempt to ward off another attack. But then something struck me and it wasn’t Monika’s fist. Jez was dead and her murderer was standing there in the room … but she didn’t have the manuscript.
‘What’ve you done with the play, Carmelita?’
‘I don’t have it,’ she snarled. ‘Have you got cloth ears or something? I told you Jezebel was dead when I got here.’
I nodded. ‘Oh yeah, I heard that all right, but you’re a cold hearted bitch, Lita so, even if she was, you’d still have had a look around for it.’
She glowered at me, but she didn’t deny it. ‘OK, so what if I did? It’s not here. Whoever killed Jezebel must’ve taken it.’
It was at that point that the police burst in and took us all into custody.
Chapter Fifteen
A fly that should have died when winter hit New York was buzzing erratically around the interview room. It sounded as mad as hell and I could sympathise with it. I’d been sitting on my arse in a rock hard chair in front of a battered desk breathing in the sour smell of unwashed bodies for two hours. The lighting in the interview room was harsh and making my head and eyes ache, but that was nothing compared to the effect the chair was having on my backside. It was screwed down to the floor and didn’t have armrests or cushioning, unlike the two padded chairs with armrests on the other side of the desk. I guessed they’d be filled by two of NYPD’s finest when they decided I’d sat and stewed long enough. I wasn’t wrong.
Two detectives walked in. One was a big, belligerent looking guy with a bulbous red veined nose, a long jaw and large yellow teeth. From the way he glared at me I guessed he had already made up his mind to give me a rough time. His partner was a smaller, slimmer man with a smooth brown face and calm, intelligent eyes. I pegged him as by far the more dangerous of the two. They introduced themselves as detectives Cleary and Martinez and then launched into the interrogation.
We batted things back and forth for a while then Cleary said, ‘OK, so let’s see if we’ve got this straight. You’re a private detective from London and you’re over here on behalf of Jason Mulwhinney, the guy who writes that HBO show, because his ex-mistress, Jezebel Montague, ran off with the script of a new play he’s written and your job was to persuade her to give it back.’ He paused and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. I nodded. ‘Right … But when you met up with Jezebel Montague at Monika Pendlas’, the theatre director’s apartment, she told you she hadn’t stolen the play because Mr Mulwhinney is a liar and she’d written it in the first place … and then she told you to take a hike.’ The look he gave me said he totally understood where she was coming from. ‘However, you’re not the kind of guy who gives up easy so the next day you went to see Ms Pendlas at the St Ann’s Warehouse Theatre and persuaded her to return to the apartment with you to talk some more to Ms Montague. But when you got there you discovered Ms Jones standing next to Ms Montague’s dead body. Is that right?’ His tone had a sour edge, but I was determined to be as friendly and helpful as I could. I was in a dicey situation here and I didn’t want to give him any excuse to turn even nastier.
‘That’s absolutely correct.’
‘Is there anything else you’d like to add to that?’ Martinez voice was neutral, but I was wary of a trap.
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think Jezebel was probably telling the truth about the manuscript but I’ve got no evidence for that … it’s just a gut feeling.’
Cleary grunted. ‘And I’ve got a gut feeling you’re holding out on us … Sherlock.’
I’d been waiting for the Sherlock Holmes jibe and here it was. I wasn’t going to rise to it though. I’d not mentioned Sanjay Kapoor’s involvement because I didn’t think the police knowing I was hobnobbing with a local gangster would show me in a very positive light. I should have realised that Monika would’ve done though, but this wasn’t what they were talking about. I shrugged. ‘Sorry, but I think I’ve told you everything that’s relevant.’
‘Oh, you think so?’ Cleary rubbed his chin in irritation. ‘Well, pal we’ve got a witness who says you were sniffing around outside the apartment abou
t the time Ms Montague was killed. How come you didn’t tell us about that?’
I shrugged again. ‘I didn’t make any secret of the fact that I was trying to see Ms Montague, but the fact that she wasn’t answering her door would seem to me to suggest she was already dead when I was trying to sweet talk your witness into letting me into the building.’
Martinez smiled his gentle smile. ‘Maybe, but you did make a secret of who you were. You told our witness you were Chris Shakespeare, a big time TV star back in the UK, whereas in fact you’re Ryan Kyd, a Private Investigator.’
Cleary thrust his face closer to mine. ‘And if you’re lying about that, what else are you lying about, Chris … whoops, my mistake, Ryan?’
I suddenly had the horrible feeling that I was skating on very thin ice. I was betting that Mulwhinney would have made sure Carmelita was lawyered up to the hilt within minutes of her arriving at the station and so, as far as these guys were concerned, a low rent Private Eye with no friends and no clout in New York would be a far more attractive patsy to fit up for murder.
‘I’m not lying about anything. I didn’t mention I was a Private Eye because I figured Ms Pendlas really wouldn’t want her neighbour, who struck me as the kind of woman who likes nothing better than to gossip and dish the dirt on people, to know that her house guest was involved in any kind of an investigation.’
‘Hey, you’re such a considerate guy,’ sneered Cleary.
‘I try.’
‘I’m sure you do, Mr Kyd, but our witness says you were still standing outside the building when she left. Why was that?’ Martinez cocked his head to one side and waited expectantly for me to answer. Cleary butted in before I could.
‘That would be because Chris here was waiting for her to get clear so he could break in.’
I shook my head. ‘My client isn’t paying me anything like enough to risk doing something that would get me jail time here in the States.’
