Kate smiled, taking the offered notebook, her index finger brushing his thumb for the barest moment, just enough to send an electric shock of awareness through her entire body. He clearly felt it, too, because his hazel eyes widen, a barely perceptible movement… unless of course you were tuned-in to his body language, as Kate so acutely was now.
“Thank you… so much. I’m sure it will prove helpful.” She could hear a coughing sound behind her and whirled around to glare at Jimi. She was fiddling with her hair, but managed to pat her jacket pocket several times. Kate frowned, then realization dawned… the cigar! She quickly reached in her pocket and pulled out the bagged end. “Uh… Parris?”
“Yes?”
“I hate to keep you, I’m sure you’re very busy…”
Parris shook his head. “Not too busy for you.”
“Okay.” Kate held up the bagged cigar end. “What can you tell me about this?”
Parris took the baggie and held it up. “How long was this on the ground?”
“Not more than five minutes. He tossed it and I went after it.”
“She scaled a wall for it, actually,” Jimi chimed in from her spot by the railing.
“Scaled a wall?” Parris looked Kate up and down, his grin widening. “Interesting. Right, well, based on the warm chocolate color, the wrapper is definitely a Maduro.”
“Maduro?”
“Yes. M-A-D-U-R-O. You see, the color of the cigar’s wrapper gives you an indication of what the flavor and strength of the cigar will be. A Maduro like this would be smooth and rich.
“Now…” Parris turned the bag, bringing the cigar stub’s radial angle into view. “You can estimate what its length was based on the size of the ring.”
“That’s the label-thingy, right?” Kate leaned in closer to see the contents of the bag.
Parris chuckled. “Yes, that is the label… thingy. This particular cigar was Dominican… I recognize the colors. Plus, I believe Lusk smokes them on occasion, and Lusk only smokes smooth-flavored cigars.” He turned it again. “The end is distorted from being bitten, but it appears to be a standard Parejo shape. You can still see some of the rounding.”
“You said the label can tell you the length of the cigar?”
“Sorry, yes, the label. This ring looks to be… 48? Maybe?” Parris nodded slowly. “That would make this a… Rothchild.” He handed the bag back to Kate. “So, in answer to the question you asked the other night, it would take approximately thirty minutes to smoke this cigar.”
“Wow! Thank you. You just saved me, and a lot of other people, a ton of work.”
“So you’ll have some time free this week? Say Friday?”
“Tomorrow? Tomorrow is no good. I have a… an inquest… to… well, whatever you guys do at an inquest.”
“Perhaps some other time.” He gave her the subtlest of winks and what could only be called a flirty smile. “Have a good night, Miss Gardener.”
“It’s Kate. You can call me… Kate.”
He paused by the car, his hand on the open car door. “If I need to get in touch… because I find you more information…”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “More information?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Kate reached into her messenger bag, fishing around until she found one of her better quality business cards. They didn’t have her address or even her current employment on them. As a photographer, Kate has always found it easier to keep to the barest of bar necessities… Her name, her occupation and her mobile number. She handed the card to Parris. “Text me. You know, if you find anything.”
Parris looked at the card for a long moment, then raised his eyes to look at Kate over the top of his glasses. “I’ll do that. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” Kate watched as he got into the car. Moments later, the vehicle slowly pulled away from the curb and headed toward the river, and the city beyond.
“Holy shit, Babes!” Jimi was leaning against the railing. “He’s better looking in person than he is in the rags. God Himself must have carved that jaw. Forget genetics and creation and all that… He just decided one day, and he said, ‘Blimey, I’m about to make something spectacular… watch me, watch me!’ And then there was Parris Devereux.”
“I would suppose he gets tired of it. You know, being gorgeous, being a noble…”
Jimi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, being wealthy and landed and mouthwatering. What a cross!” She looks at Kate, unmasked envy on her face. “He was completely flirting with you in the extreme. Was he doing that the other night as well?”
Kate nodded slowly. “I suppose, yes.”
The pair walked up the steps and aimed for the front entrance of the building. Jimi reached to pull open the door, then stopped. “Babes? A word of advice?”
“Um, sure, okay.”
“Next time Parris Devereux asks you out for a Friday evening when you have an inquest to go to in the afternoon… try to remember that you’ll have the evening free and just go!”
Kate grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jimi opened the door for her. “And who knows… maybe he likes having sex in the shower, too.”
“JIMI!”
14
11 November 2011
Kate’s Flat, Dulwich, Southwark
Kate counted-down the remaining repetitions of her workout. That wall climb may have looked like nothing to Jimi, but Kate’s muscles were telling her otherwise. She hadn’t done that kind of physical activity for awhile, confining herself to walking around the city and the occasional mad dash from the Tube station. The yoga would help and, though her muscles and joints were still sore, they felt more relaxed than they had before she started.
As she finished the last move, Kate relaxed back on to the floor, her knees bent, feet flat. She could feel the tension in her lower back… It was going to be a menthol patch kind of night, that’s for sure. The dampness of winter was really starting to set in, and chilly temperatures had never been Kate’s friend, particular in recent years. She shivered, rolled on to her side and used the sofa to help get to her feet. Immediately, she padded over to the thermostat and turned it up a couple of degrees.
The buzzing of her mobile phone drew attention to the kitchen counter… and the coffee pot. Now to warm up from the inside. She grabbed the filters from the cupboard, carefully separated one from the bunch and lined the basket. The phone buzzed again as she pulled the coffee and cold water from the refrigerator. Who the hell is that? Kate wondered as she scooped in coffee grounds and poured in water.
The phone was vibrating AGAIN as she pushed the button to turn the machine on. Groaning, Kate reached for the phone and swiped the screen.
Three messages… all from an unknown number. Her finger hesitated above the trash can icon… Ordinarily she didn’t open messages from anyone she didn’t know, but… Curiosity got the better of her, and Kate tapped the first message.
Parris: Kate? This is Parris. I hope I’m not bothering you.
Kate chuckled to herself, but quickly opened the next two text messages.
Parris: Am I bothering you?
Parris: Hmmm… Radio silence… Helloooooo!
Kate laughed outright at that one. So, he had a sense of humor… that was good… She quickly pulled up the keyboard and typed off a reply.
Kate: Not bothering me AT ALL! I was just making coffee… Some things cannot be interrupted.
She watched the phone screen, her anticipation at a reply turning to disappointment as the minutes ticked by. She must have been tensing her muscles because when the vibration signal of an incoming text went off, the sound and movement caused Kate to jump, literally jump, off the barstool she had perched upon.
Parris: Agreed. Anything could happen if you do. No water in the back… Not enough coffee measured in… Disaster!
Kate: LOL Funny.
Parris: So I’m not bothering you?
Kate: No, silly… I said no, didn’t I?
Parris: You worked today?
Kate: Nope. Well, not officially, no.
Parris: What does THAT mean?
Kate: It means I’m still looking at crime scene photos, but instead of prettying-up and going into Lambeth, I’m at home and can’t be bothered. Pretty much.
Parris: How can you take crime scene photos home?
Kate paused, the dulcet tones of the coffee pot alarm letting her now that it was finished and ready for consumption.
Kate: Parris? Hang on, I’m getting coffee.
Parris: Where’s mine?
Kate: I don’t deliver. You’ll have to come get it.
One great thing about texting… you could say things to people you might not be brave enough to say in person. That was also the bad thing about texting. Kate half-wished she hadn’t replied so quickly. What could he be thinking, that she was inviting him over? Her answer came moments later…
Parris: Wish I could. Trapped at work.
Kate: Work? What do you do?
Parris: Residential development. I’m an architect.
Kate: Dude, really? Wow!
Parris: Thank you. Did you just ‘dude’ me?
Kate: LOL Sorry. It just slips out sometimes.
Parris: No worries. You are welcome to ‘dude’ me in time you like.
Kate: Okay, that sound a little…
Parris: Dirty.
Parris: You’re smiling though, aren’t you?
Kate: I am.
Parris: Back to my question… How do you take crime scene photos home?
Kate took a sip of her coffee before she began typing, making a mental note to suggest another mode of communication that was easier on the fingers.
Kate: Simply put, flash drives are wonderful things. They hold A LOT.
Parris: Ah. So you make copies, then?
Kate. Yeah. Although, I kind of just remember it all, too.
Parris: Remember what?
Kate: The crime scene.
Parris: You remember the crime scene?
Kate: I remember EVERYTHING. I’m told that it’s a gift. Sometimes I’d love, love, LOVE to return it.
Parris: I can appreciate that.
Kate: We have to find another way to do this. My fingers are getting tired.
Parris: Yeah. Everyone’s looking a bit annoyed with me. I’m supposed to be listening to this presentation. I AM listening to it.
Kate: Get back to work!
Parris: As you wish.
Kate: Hey, Parris?
Parris: Yes?
Kate: TTYL
Parris:
Kate watched the screen until the phone went dark. She stretched her fingers, then wrapped them around the hot coffee cup, enjoying the initial sting as the heat melted into her cold fingers. It was warming up in the flat, but her extremities took forever to warm up once they were chilled.
She carried her coffee into the living room area and snuggled in on the sofa. She pulled one of the chenille throws from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders, then grabbed a second and threw it over her legs. Satisfied with coverage, and fortified with another sip of hot coffee, Kate reached for her messenger bag, pulling it out from under the coffee table by its strap. She pulled out a small pencil case and popped it open, searching through the numerous flash drives inside it before picking one out.
Her small notebook computer whirred to life as she opened it. Kate waited as the operating system readied itself, then slid the flash drive in and waited for the windows to come up. She’d looked at all of these pictures in the dark room, remembered them in the watery red light, but she needed to see them differently so that she could spot the differences, if there were any.
When people committed crimes, they often thought they covered every base, dotted every ‘I’, when they planned the crime, cleared the scene… But it was not unusual for Kate to find an error… a shadow, a change in light, the wrong color or texture in the wrong place… A patch of moisture, of the lack thereof…
Kate felt herself wince as the memories of the Regent’s Park images came flowing back. It was how she’d caught Neville… Neville… Kate shivered and took a generous sip of her coffee. Tomorrow was D-Day, or rather I-Day, ‘I’ being for ‘inquest’. She had been subjected to questioning about cases before and, with her total recall-like abilities, stating the facts surrounding the processing of a crime scene, or the details of an incident she was involved in (which happened a bit more often than she would like to admit), was easy-peasy. This time though… Kate shivered again and extracted herself from the sofa, depositing the computer on the coffee table before heading for the kitchen, and more coffee. What Jimi had told her about Pierce and those friends of Wilkinson bothered her. They didn’t know who she was really, or that she and Pierce were friendly, but she couldn’t help the feeling of dread that was causing her stomach to tighten. Kate wished she was the one getting questioned first, and immediately felt guilty about it. It would certainly be easier on her, drastically decreasing the probability that she would be hit with questions that would be difficult to answer.
The buzzing sound of her mobile phone vibrating drew her attention. She glanced at the caller ID, then smiled as she answered it. “I thought you were supposed to be working.”
“I was. I am.” The warm tone of Parris’ voice softened the precision of his excessively RP pronunciation. He spoke softly, as if he was trying to keep from being heard, and the softness drifted into a slight rumble at times that Kate swore she could feel traveling along ever nerve of her body. “What are you doing?”
“Same thing I was doing twenty minutes ago.”
“Ah. Coffee and crime scene photos.”
“More coffee. Less crime scene photos. I’m trying to get warm.”
“Don’t you have heat?”
“Of course. But it takes awhile for me to warm up.”
“Hmmm… Good to know. Tomorrow is your day at the inquest, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t seem particularly excited about it.”
“Oh, no, I’m seriously just barely containing myself. I may have to do a happy dance just to vent a small portion of the thrill I’m feeling inside.”
Parris laughed at that, and Kate felt a little flame of warmth ignite and spread through her chest at the sound. He had a great laugh.
“You should get back to work. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my account.”
“I would gladly get in trouble on your account.”
“Aw! That’s sweet!”
“Sweet. Yeah.” Kate heard him take a deep breath, then let it out with a whoosh. “So… Still no chance of seeing you tomorrow night? Sorry. I don’t want to push, really…”
“You know what? Yeah. Yeah, you definitely have a chance. I can’t make any kind of guarantee, I don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. But…”
“I get permission to try?”
“Yeah.”
“Brilliant! I’ll be there wearing bells.”
“Bells?”
“All right. How about leather?”
“Ooo… That’s exciting.”
“I thought you might like that.”
“I’ll be at Lambeth… Unless there’s a disaster of some kind.”
“For instance?”
“For instance, I have a nervous breakdown before then. Or Warwick goes after me on the stand and I flip out.”
“I could have a word with him.”
“No! God, no! Don’t draw any more attention to me than necessary.”
“You not drawing attention sounds physically impossible to me.”
“There you go, being sweet again.”
Parris laughed again. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”
Kate heard the muffled click of the call ending and shook her head slowly. Leather… Hmmm… This was going to get interesting FAST! It had been a long time since she’d even dated, let alone been really involved with someone, but in the brief moments in time that she’d had contact with Parris
Devereux, she had gotten the distinct impression that he wasn’t one to drag his feet when he wanted something. Not surprising when you thought about it. Those dining clubs were kind of like fraternities back home, and those frat boys definitely went after what they wanted full throttle. For a brief moment, Kate felt a wave of apprehension as she recalled what being an “Alpha’s girl” was like… She hadn’t been a serial dater or anything, but she’d had enough experience in college to know that being the girlfriend of a quarterback or a Delta Chi came with plenty of privileges… and a barrel of attention, not always positive. Kate’s stomach did a little anxious flip. She really didn’t want to go through that again…
The phone buzzed, and after a glance at the caller ID, Kate quickly answered. “Hey Rick. What’s up?”
“I hate to bother you, but —”
Kate smiled, relieved by the interruption. Pierce’s voice had quickly banished the apprehension from her mind, and the knot in her stomach was loosening. “You’re not bothering me, what do you need?”
It was quiet for a long time. Kate was beginning to think he’d hung up, or that the connection had been lost or something, and then Pierce spoke.
“Would you like to go to a wake?”
15
October 2011
The Black Cap, Camden Town
“A wake.” Kate glanced over at the driver’s seat. The window was rolled down and Pierce had his right elbow resting on the door as he smoked his cigarette. He’d taken off the sling, Kate noted, and the arm seemed to be moving well without any serious pain. She hoped it was really better, and that Pierce wasn’t simply suffering through any discomfort so that she didn’t have to drive his car, though Kate had the feeling if that was the case, it was more out of concern for his car than for her. Kate chuckled. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Kate saw the tiny smile pull at the corner of Pierce’s mouth, then followed his gaze to the statuesque figure crossing the street a few feet in front of them. The dress was glamorous, but quite tasteful, and the hair and jewelry that sparkled in the dim light of the streetlamps did nothing to take away from the overall look of elegance. Then the lovely figure spoke, or rather yelled, at the bouncer-like figure standing outside the bar, and the baritone “Oi!” that emanated from that sultry figure confirmed without a doubt that this lovely queen was no lady.
De Profundis (Kate Gardener Mysteries Book 2) Page 10
