Ophelia gazed at her, eyes a liquid grey and wide. Her voice was small. ‘I saw them only a few days ago. Why would anyone do that to Mum and Dad?’ Abruptly her head moved from side to side as her gaze darted around. ‘God. I’ll need to let Aunt Patsy and Uncle Frank know—’
‘They’ve already been informed.’ Rio stopped, thinking through what she was about to say next. ‘Look I need to tell you something. What I’m about to tell you has to stay confidential.’
Ophelia nodded, but Rio couldn’t be sure she was really hearing.
‘The reason your aunt and uncle already know is your cousin, Nicola, was at the house as well.’
The other woman’s hands flew to her chest. ‘Oh God . . . Nicola . . . Nikki . . . Nikki . . .’ Her voice lost its power somewhere deep in her throat.
‘No,’ Rio reassured her, knowing exactly what her mind was thinking. ‘Nikki’s OK. She managed to hide in a cupboard upstairs. But she’s a witness because she saw who did it—’
Ophelia flung an arm wide. ‘So why aren’t you out there trying to find the murdering bastards right now?’
Rio ignored the pointed look Strong sent her way. ‘Nikki didn’t see their faces and has only been able to tell us some things, but not others. Your parents’ lawyer, Stephen Foster—’
Ophelia’s whole demeanour changed to someone ready for a tussle in the playground. ‘What’s that idiot got to do with this?’
‘Have you got a problem with him?’
‘What person likes a lawyer?’
But Rio sensed whatever the issue was ran much deeper.
‘Your aunt and uncle confirmed that Nikki is his client. They don’t want us talking to her unless he’s present. She’s in the hospital.’
The actress stretched her long neck with the arrogance of the character she was so well known for playing.
‘He won’t let you talk to her?’ Her grey eyes were determined. ‘We’ll see about that.’
As Ophelia Bell got ready, Rio turned to Strong. ‘I’ll drive her to the hospital and you . . .’ Indecision made the rest of the words stick in her throat, but she didn’t need to say them as Strong nodded, knowing what she wanted him to do.
But as he twisted around to leave Rio grabbed his arm. ‘You put a foot wrong while you investigate this drug angle and you can kiss this case bye-bye.’
ten
2:00 p.m.
‘No one talks to her unless Mr Foster is here.’
Patsy Bell’s voice was soft but determined as she spoke to her niece-by-marriage. Instead of the actress asking permission to speak to Nicola she’d arrogantly told her aunt that she was going to talk to her younger cousin. Nicola was in the attached private bathroom having a shower.
Rio had initially summed Patsy Bell up as a small woman who took the lead from her husband, but now she saw that she was someone who packed the grit to do what it took to keep her daughter safe.
‘But why, Auntie Pat?’ Ophelia responded. Rio saw the older woman wince at the use of the name ‘Pat’. ‘The sooner Nikki tells the police all she can remember, the sooner she can get home and be in the bosom of her mother.’
Patsy Bell bristled and Rio couldn’t figure out what was happening here, but there was definitely something going on between these two women. Frank Bell remained silent in the chair beside his wife.
‘Stephen Foster said he’d be back tomorrow morning and then we’ll see if Nikki is ready to talk some more then.’
‘And how would you feel,’ Ophelia countered, ‘if this gang commits another murder in the meantime? I don’t think Nikki’s going to like the idea of having blood on her hands.’
Patsy shot to her feet. ‘How dare you say something so wicked.’ Her voice was no longer soft, but high and shrill with anger.
Her husband caught one of her hands. ‘Come on, love—’
‘No.’ His wife shook her head. ‘She needs to remember—’
The door of the bathroom pushed open and Nikki appeared, her face washed of the terror Rio had seen earlier, her blonde hair wet against the side of her face and shoulders. She saw her cousin and her face was transformed by a sheen of joy.
‘Lia,’ she let out with a smile. Then she rushed over and into the arms of her cousin.
Ophelia squeezed her tight, rubbed her cheek across her face.
‘I wanted to help Auntie Linda and Uncle, but I couldn’t,’ the teenager said sadly.
Her cousin reassured her. ‘Don’t worry. I’m just glad that you’re safe—’
‘Ophelia.’ Patsy’s tone was sharp with the seniority of an aunt commanding her niece. ‘Nikki needs all the rest she can get, so if you would allow her to get back in the bed.’
‘Sorry, sweetie,’ Ophelia whispered as she let Nikki go.
Nikki made her way to the bed, but Rio didn’t miss the resentful look she threw her mother on the way there. It never ceased to surprise Rio how the dynamics of a family always came out during a tragedy. She knew it was wrong to rake up more trouble for the Bells but she needed Ophelia to get her cousin to talk. So Rio remained where she was, sensing if Ophelia was going to make this happen she needed to give her the space to do it.
Ophelia popped herself down on the bed beside Nikki. The girl gazed at her cousin with adoring, but shy eyes.
‘All my friends are jealous that I’ve got a beautiful cousin who’s on the telly,’ Nikki finally said.
Ophelia suddenly turned her attention to her handbag. Its pink-red-brown interlocking woven print gave it a South Indian style. ‘Look, I’ve got something new for your collection.’
Three tiny bells jingled at the bottom of her bag as she pulled something out and laid it on the bed. Nikki’s eyes widened and shone with excitement as she gazed at a pair of lacy, fingerless gloves: black, elbow length and stylish.
‘These are Lady Clarissa’s,’ Ophelia explained. ‘She wore them in the episode when she attended the Duke of Hampstead’s spring ball.’
Rio found it strange that Ophelia was referring to the character she played in the third person, like she wasn’t the person that inhabited her skin. But what did she care, as long as the other woman got the information from their witness.
‘Can I wear them now?’ Nikki asked, turning her adoring gaze from the gloves to her cousin.
‘No you can’t,’ her mother snapped. ‘This isn’t a catwalk, it’s a hospital, and the reason you’re in here is because something terrible has happened.’
‘Your mother’s right,’ Ophelia agreed as she ran her palm over the lower half of Nikki’s arm like she was touching silk. ‘That’s why you’ve got to tell me what happened.’
‘Lia—’ Patsy Bell warned.
Nikki looked over at her mother. ‘It’s OK, mum. I want to tell her.’
But Patsy wasn’t looking at her daughter, she was gazing hard at her niece. Suddenly she got to her feet. ‘I need to tell the medical staff about my daughter’s nut allergy.’
For some reason her gaze lingered hard on her niece-by-marriage. Then she was gone.
There was a moment’s silence after she’d left. Then Ophelia’s husky tones filled the air. ‘So, little lady, I want you to tell me everything you can about what you saw.’
Rio pulled out her notebook and pen. Nikki’s head fell back against the pillow as she sucked in a strong punch of air.
‘There were two of them. I already told her . . .’ Her gaze shifted briefly to Rio.
‘Did you see their faces?’ her cousin asked.
Nikki shook her head. ‘They were both wearing something strange on their faces—’
‘Like clown masks?’ Rio asked, speaking for the first time.
Nikki nervously rubbed her lips together as she shook her head. Her small hands fluttered in the air as she answered. ‘They weren’t clown masks. The faces were covered with a piece of . . .’ She stopped, trying to get her words right.
‘It’s fine, hun,’ her cousin reassured. ‘Take your time. No one’s rushing you.’
‘Are you sure?’ Rio asked softly.
Nikki nodded. Her cousin squeezed one of her hands.
‘Could it have been a clown mask?’ Rio persisted.
‘Maybe.’ Nikki shrugged again, her fingers twisting in the glove material. ‘But I’ve never seen a clown face like that before because there wasn’t any paint on the baggy material, it was just a sort of greeny-grey.’
Rio wrote in her notebook.
Description: raid 6 no clown masks. Covering faces=puffy material, plastic eye glasses (?) and a trunk/hose.
Whatever the gang had chosen to hide their faces on raid 6 was not something Rio could immediately identify. Maybe it was homemade. But why change their MO of clown masks to a strange type of face covering?
‘Good girl,’ her cousin reassured her. ‘What about their height? Tall? Short?’
Nikki eyelids flicked down as if she was trying to remember the scene. ‘One was about my size . . . I think . . . not sure. The other one was taller. About as tall as Ad—’ Her voice cut off as she blushed. She sent her dad a furious and sulky look.
Rio didn’t know who this Ad was and it didn’t have anything to do with the investigation so she didn’t go there. But whoever ‘Ad’ was had caused more tension to tighten in the room.
Rio’s question cut through the strained atmosphere. ‘Did you hear them speak?’
‘A bit. One of them said they needed to check there was no one else in the house.’ Nikki shook her head. ‘I couldn’t make out what they were saying. But one of them had a high voice—’
That fitted in with the nitrous oxide the gang used to change the tone and pitch of their voices. But what the teenager said next had Rio thinking something else.
‘Like a woman.’
‘A woman?’ Rio jerked in, shocked. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Rio scribbled in her notebook.
‘No . . . Yes . . .’ Nikki rubbed her forehead. ‘Don’t know. Although I couldn’t hear what the other one was saying – his voice was high as well.’
Rio reasoned that the use of nitrous oxide could well make anyone think they were hearing a woman speak, albeit a woman auditioning for The Muppet Show.
‘No,’ Nikki bit out. ‘They moved like men. I couldn’t hear clearly in the cupboard.’
Rio scratched out a word in her notebook: Woman
Suddenly the tears of the teen crashed into the air. She was shaking. ‘I can’t stop seeing all that blood that came out of Ania. Red. Thick. It hit me in the face—’
‘That’s enough,’ Patsy Bell shouted from the doorway. Everyone had been so focused on Nikki that they hadn’t realised she was back. ‘Get away from her.’
Patsy Bell strode towards Ophelia, raising her arm, and Rio was sure she was going to throw the two-toned brown-and-white polystyrene cup full of steaming drink into her niece’s face.
‘Mrs Bell,’ Rio warned.
The other woman let her arm relax back, but her tone was furious as she addressed her niece-by-marriage. ‘Leave. Her. Alone. Can’t you see she’s terrified? How difficult this is for her? She’s not some character in a script.’
Ophelia tilted her head to gaze at her aunt and Rio was surprised at the cool absence of emotion in her eyes. ‘I know who she is. And don’t you forget it.’
Patsy’s face grew pale. Rio stepped in. This was getting well out of hand.
‘Let’s all cool down—’
‘After the other one shot Ania,’ Nikki suddenly interrupted, ‘and they started looking around, the other one sort of slumped against the wall. I could hear his breathing, ragged and loud. His hand moved. I think he was holding something. Not just the,’ she gulped, ‘gun.’
Rio thought quickly. Breathing difficulties. Holding something.
‘Did you see what he was holding? Was it an asthma pump?’
Nikki shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
Rio wrote quickly in her notebook.
Gang member with breathing difficulties on raid 6? Medical problem? Asthma pump?
eleven
2:30 p.m.
‘You don’t look like the type of woman who would burden herself with a family,’ Ophelia said to Rio. Then she drew the half-gone ciggie between her thin fingers to her cherry painted lips. Her cool grey eyes were hidden behind Ray-Ban midnight green, tinted shades.
They stood around the back of the hospital, near the bins, in an unofficial smoking zone. A man and woman stood not far away, heads together as they puffed on a fresh batch of nicotine. After Nikki’s recollections about the gunmen her mother came over all protective lioness again and blocked any further questioning. Rio had invited the actress to join her in the canteen to find out more about her parents but Ophelia had shaken her red head saying she wasn’t in the mood to be recognised, or as she put it, ‘be part of a finger-pointing sightseeing tour for the public.’ Rio got the impression that she usually loved the whole fame game, but not today. Not the day she’d found out her parents had been brutally butchered. But she’d consented to have a smoke and talk in a place where she was anonymous.
‘Just a brother,’ Rio answered the other woman’s question. ‘My parents are both gone. My dad cut out on us when I was five and my mum passed away three months ago.’
Ophelia took a few more lazy puffs and, with smoke drifting with her words, said, ‘How did you deal with it?’ She didn’t need to tell Rio what ‘it’ was. Death.
Rio’s eyebrows shuffled together. ‘I was lucky enough to know both my grandparents. My dad was from Trinidad but my mum came from the neighbouring island of Grenada. When my grandmother in Trinidad died we all went down for her funeral. My grandmother’s mother was from the Punjab and I think my gran still held on to some of her Hindu beliefs.’ A tiny smile creased Rio’s lips. ‘There was a bit of a tussle between her African blood and her Hindu relatives about what her send-off should be. But in the end they all agreed that whatever it was, whatever it looked like, it had to be a journey of peace. I never forgot that word when my dad died. My mum died. Peace. Peace.’
Ophelia pushed the ciggie to her lips and sucked hard. She shifted her gaze and head away from Rio. Smoke clouded around her face, leaving a hazy mask that dulled the glossy red of her hair. Rio had an impulse to wave the smoke away; this woman had had too much dirt thrown at her recently.
Ophelia turned back to her. ‘Why did you become a cop?’
‘Why did you become an actress?’ Getting people to talk was one of Rio’s specialities. Over the years she learned that sometimes the best way of doing that was by going an indirect route.
The other woman flicked the butt on to the ground, then folded her arms reminding Rio how skinny she was.
‘Don’t get me wrong. I had one of those blissful childhoods – attentive parents, top of the range schools, lived in a neighbourhood that had style mags gagging. But I always found myself wanting something else. Someone else’s life I suppose. At uni I got involved in the drama society and it just seemed that the natural progression would be to attend drama school.’ Her cherry lips twisted.
‘Your parents didn’t approve?’ Rio pulled out an energy-protein bar from her jacket. She offered it to Ophelia, but the other woman wrinkled her nose as if she was being offered poison.
Rio ripped the wrapper as Ophelia started talking again. ‘It was Dad really. He wanted me to become part of the business—’
‘And what business was that?’
‘Aren’t you Ophelia Bell?’ a voice interrupted.
Both Rio and the actress turned to find the couple who’d been smoking nearby, less than a metre from them. It was the man who spoke, his cheeks high-red with excitement.
&n
bsp; ‘No. Now push off.’ Ophelia’s cherry lips snarled fiery peppers style.
‘But that’s you up there isn’t it?’ the man persisted, pointing.
Both Rio and Ophelia looked at what he pointed at; a poster on the wall advocating the work of a charity called, ‘Love Yourself’ which was having a week’s awareness about eating disorders. One of the charity’s patrons was photographed on the poster – Ophelia Bell.
‘Can you please leave us alone?’ Ophelia’s voice was harder, but Rio noticed that her cheeks had pinked over as soon as she spotted the poster.
But the couple weren’t going anywhere. The man peered closer like the actress was an exhibit in a shop window advertising sales. This time when he spoke his tone was scornful. ‘You’re her alright; I’d recognise that voice anywhere. And that show you’re in is crap, love, and you’re crap in it.’
Rio stepped in. Showed her warrant card. ‘Maybe you want to talk a bit more about your own personal crap in Interview Room Number One down at the station.’
Her threat got the couple rapidly moving along.
‘See what I have to put up with? Every little tosser’s a critic these days.’ Ophelia pressed the sunglasses closer to her face. ‘I suppose you’re wondering now if I’ve got an E.D?’ Seeing the confusion on Rio’s face she added, ‘Eating disorder.’
‘It’s none of my—’
‘Well I have,’ the actress carried on as if Rio hadn’t spoken. ‘Or had. It’s no big secret. It was years back when I was a teen. When ‘‘Love Yourself’’ asked for my help I gave it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘‘Now, where were we? Ah yes, Dad’s business. The honest God truth is I don’t really know. I think he had a partner before I was born, but I’m not sure. When I was young I think he made his money in property, but once again I’m not sure. Whatever it was he sold up and diversified into something else. Something more lucrative.’
‘What could be more of a money spinner than property in a place like London?’
‘Who knows? I didn’t much care. He just wanted to make lots of money and I wanted to entertain people.’
Death Trap Page 6
