She grimaced before she smiled. ‘A long time ago. I’m flattered that you saw it. Not so many people remember that story now – which can be a blessing.’ The smile grew rueful. ‘It got a little stale, hauling around that other label.’
Devlin raised his eyebrows, intrigued, betting that if he kept quiet, she’d say more.
She hooked a strand of pale gold hair behind her ear. ‘It was one of those bright ideas that got stuck and kept being replayed.’
Devlin suppressed a smile. Let a silence lengthen for long enough and the impulse to fill it became almost unbearable. First rule of interrogation. Her eyes had narrowed, assessing him, aware of what he was up to. Smart lady. He nodded encouragingly and got a soft laugh in response.
‘You want me to rake over my old glories for you, Mr Devlin? All right then. It came from a young journalist who interviewed Oliver, oh – sometime in the early seventies – Oliver was still Oliver then, that important extra ‘i’ came a little later.’ The expressive eyes sparkled with knowing mockery. ‘The reporter needed an original angle to sell a story about a more-or-less unknown artist. He came up with this idea of linking two brilliant –’ she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, grinning ‘– artistic talents, who’d both used a woman named Suzanne for inspiration. Of course, at the time, Oliver was delighted to be linked to Leonard Cohen. People were only just beginning to suggest that his talent was in any way remarkable and not many of them – ’ The grin was decidedly wicked now. ‘It was a totally daft comparison – there was absolutely nothing else to link Oliver with Cohen, but you know how these things go. Then the article got syndicated in the States. Oliver’s career began to take off and he declared, very dramatically, that I was his Muse.’ The grin widened. ‘Being a muse is a very ambiguous activity, you know. No job description. In retrospect it seems principally to have consisted of cleaning a great many paintbrushes and standing around in draughty studios, half-naked. But I was young, and in love to the point of imbecility.’ She gave the painting a considering look. ‘I sat for hours for that thing. It seemed only fair that I should end up owning it. And a few others.’ She was still smiling, but her eyes had narrowed again. ‘Oliver’s early work isn’t that well publicised these days. You know your art, Mr Devlin.’
‘Just Devlin, please.’ She’d given him information. Interesting information. He’d enjoyed hearing it, so he owed her. ‘I once babysat a private art collection from L.A. to New York, for an exhibition, and back again. There were a number of Kessels. The guy was a fan. The whole art thing interested me, so I did some research, browsed a few galleries.’
‘Babysat? Oh yes – Security consultant.’
Abruptly her face folded in on itself. She’d remembered why he was here.
That’s how it must be, this far down the line. For a few minutes you forget – have a conversation, get lost in a memory, something from before … Then the unthinkable comes crashing in again.
‘Would you like some tea?’ she asked jerkily. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
He let her go ahead, taking time to survey the rest of the room. There were photographs, family groups, in happier times. Katarina Elmore – another looker, if these informal shots were anything to go by – but in a totally different style. The husband was there too – ex-husband – tan, good chin, good teeth. And a child. Another girl, dark like her mom, aged about four or five. Devlin picked up the slim silver frame to get a closer look. He hadn’t realised there was a younger daughter. No pictures of his girl. Too painful to have the memories around? Might be a comfort to the mother and grandmother, but for the other kid? How hard was it going to be, growing up in the shadow of an older sister? A dead older sister.
He followed the sound of clinking china into the kitchen. A big room, with the evening sun coming in through the window, mismatched wooden units, warm terracotta tiles. Suzanne was fiddling with cups and saucers. A large spanner sat on the work surface.
Suzanne saw him looking at it. ‘The man who serviced the boiler forgot it. I thought you were him …’ Her face clouded. ‘If he hadn’t rung, to say he was coming back for it, I’d have already gone home. There would have been no one here.’
‘I would have called again.’ Would you?
Ignoring the prickle at the nape of his neck, Devlin wandered over to the refrigerator. Amongst the saver coupons and postcards there were children’s drawings, attached with magnets. Devlin examined them, something to occupy his attention while Suzanne completed the performance of tea-making. Not exactly the million dollar art occupying the main room. Except … Devlin’s spine stiffened in surprise. The pictures bearing the legends Mummy, Daddy and Gran were recognisably people, not the usual scrawling matchstick figures with green hair. ‘Hey, these are good.’ He indicated the drawings.
‘Aren’t they?’ Suzanne turned towards him, a flash of animation in her face. ‘Quite remarkable for her age. Oliver was so excited –’ The animation faded. ‘All that’s gone, too. Her father – they were supposed to be going to Florida, to Disneyworld …’ Suzanne pulled the teapot towards her.
Devlin looked back, away from her swimming eyes. He could see it now. There was a tiny J in the corner of each picture. Jamie. His girl had painted these. His throat tightened. Maybe it was a mistake to come here? What can you really tell them?
He could still feel it, raw in his throat. He’d scrambled down that damn slope, but when he got there … This child, with so much promise, had blinked up at him, and tried to smile. That smile – the relief in it had damn near hauled his scabby heart straight out of his chest. She’d trusted him to rescue her. Trusted him to make everything right. He’d known in an instant that there was nothing he could do, except be there for her, put his arm around her. Let her feel that she wasn’t alone. The next second she’d coughed up a little blood – and died. The look of surprise on her face would be with him forever. These drawings were hers.
Devlin swallowed hard. ‘Look – this is disturbing for you, my being here. I don’t have that much to tell you … It was very quick …’
‘No!’ Suzanne put out her hand to cut him off. She was shaking her head, emphatically. ‘We’ll wait for Kaz – I think she has the right to be the first to hear how her daughter died.’
She finished loading the tray. Devlin took it from her and carried it back into the other room. They both turned at the sound of a key in the lock.
‘Mum? Are you still here? Don’t tell me he didn’t turn up!’
Suzanne closed her eyes, opened them. ‘In here, darling.’
Devlin found he was bracing himself. He didn’t know what for. Yet.
She was as striking as her mother, but with a wilder edge. The dark curls were barely kept in check by a flamingo pink scarf. Flawless skin. Wide, dark eyes. Wide, full mouth. There were smudges under those eyes, and tension in the set of her head that shouldn’t be there. Even so, it was a face to make a man acutely aware of his loins.
For Christ’s sake, you’re here to give her your sympathy, not to come on to her!
Devlin dropped his eyes before they could betray him, and found that she was wearing – a dark brown boiler suit. His heart all but stopped when he realised that she’d halted in the doorway to stare at him, with it half-unbuttoned. The T-shirt beneath clung to the kind of figure that turned heads. Or made a man’s mouth go dry. Devlin swallowed. The shirt gave him a clue. Gardeners do it in the bushes. Katarina Elmore was a gardener? Why hadn’t he known that? Because you didn’t want to get in that deep, did you?
Kaz stepped into the living room. There was a man in the house. And definitely not from the gas company. Not unless they were kitting them out in expensive Italian tailoring these days. Blinking, she took in the tea things on the table. Her mother was entertaining? Suzanne was fluttering – there was no other word for it – around a complete stranger. Kaz’s bewilderment escalated. Suz
anne didn’t do fluttering. Mind, he was some stranger. The sharp lines of the expensive suit gave one message, the hint of five o’clock shadow another. There was a lot of him, six foot two at least, with the shoulders to match. And muscle in all the right places. Too rugged to be handsome, a touch of Steve McQueen about the eyes. Fabulous mouth. A face for dreams. Or maybe nightmares.
What the hell is something this hot doing in your living room?
‘Mum?’ Her heart had picked up a little speed. She felt it bump gently against her ribs. Something was stirring. She remembered it vaguely. Lust. This guy had danger written all over him. Sexy danger. Oh boy!
With difficulty Kaz hauled her eyes away from Danger, and his fabulous mouth, and towards her mother. Suzanne’s face was strained. There were lines creasing her forehead.
‘Darling, this is Mr Devlin … er … Devlin. He …’ Her mother’s voice faltered. ‘He’s from America – to see you.’
‘America?’ A sudden blast of inexplicable cold lurched through Kaz, thoroughly dissipating lust. She could see now that Suzanne’s eyes were half-closed and hazy with tears.
‘He was there, darling. He was there … when Jamie died.’
‘What?’ Kaz blinked, swallowed. Cold, lust, everything was gone. Something squeezed her chest, and kept on squeezing. White, hot rage.
‘What the hell kind of freak are you? And what do you think you can get from us?’
Devlin took an involuntary step back. He’d imagined tears, shock, confusion. He hadn’t expected blazing anger. ‘Mrs Elmore –’
‘Get out! Get out of my house – now!’ Her voice was like a blade, thrown directly at his unprotected rib cage. He knew his hands had gone up to defend himself. He put them to better use waving her off. She was advancing towards him, blood in her eyes.
‘Kaz!’ Suzanne’s voice was a strangled gasp.
‘Stay out of this, Mum.’ Kaz barely spared her a glance. ‘I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, Mister, or what you expect to get out of it. I don’t want to know. How dare you soil my daughter’s memory!’ Her voice was shaking. ‘My uncle is a policeman.’ She hauled a mobile phone out of her pocket, brandishing it like a weapon. ‘I’ll give you twenty seconds to leave, then I’m calling him.’
‘OK.’ Devlin opened his palms. ‘I hear you, and I’m going.’ He didn’t know what was going on here, but the way out was that way. He took a step, then paused. Bugger it, he wasn’t running out, tail between his legs. Try for a little dignity here. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t intend to add to your distress.’ Deliberately he turned to Suzanne. Her face was white. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms Saint. Goodbye.’
He was going to have to pass Mrs Elmore to get to the front door. Her body was almost vibrating with fury. He side-stepped quickly. Even brushing against her arm might shoot sparks. And probably be construed as assault. He skirted carefully around her. She swung in a circle to watch him.
‘No!’ Suzanne’s shout stopped him at the door. ‘Don’t leave, Mr Devlin.’ He turned cautiously. Tears were coursing silently down the older woman’s face. ‘She was your daughter, Kaz, but she was my granddaughter. I loved her, too. I believe him. I want to hear what he has to say. I wouldn’t let him tell me until you were here. Darling, please.’
She crossed the room to her daughter, putting an arm around her. Devlin saw Kaz quiver, but she didn’t shake her mother off. Suzanne’s voice was low and intense. ‘When it happened … we were devastated. Jeff did everything he could to spare us, I know, but … but maybe it wasn’t the right thing after all. I wake up nights and I wonder … whether … whether …’ She half-choked, then tried again. Devlin found there was a lump in his throat. ‘We know so little. You didn’t even see her … If Mr Devlin can tell us something, I want to hear it. Then we can judge. Please, darling,’ she begged again. Her voice was brittle, and almost too soft to hear.
Devlin stood, poised, for a very long three seconds. He almost felt Kaz Elmore’s breath shudder out.
‘All right.’ Her shoulders sagged a little as she rounded on him, then jerked back. The sparks were still there, but she’d damped them. He could feel the effort zinging off her. ‘I’ll listen, because my mother wants it. Sit there.’ She glared at him, pointing towards the sofa in front of the fireplace.
Devlin scrunched down a grin that had come up from nowhere. It would undoubtedly be seriously misconstrued. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
He folded himself onto the lime-green sofa, as instructed, and waited. Kaz disappeared briefly into the hall and came back without the boiler suit. The jeans fitted as well as the T-shirt. The women sat down, facing him. Suzanne poured tea and handed him a cup. Kaz’s knuckles were tight on hers. She had both hands wrapped around it, as if she needed the warmth. When she looked up, her eyes were still combative. Devlin leaned forward, opening up, letting her come to him.
‘If you were there when my daughter died, why is this the first we’ve heard of you?’ she demanded at last.
‘I don’t know, Mrs Elmore.’ He’d been wondering that himself. ‘The cops certainly knew all about me.’ One detective in particular had shown a disturbingly high interest in what he’d been doing on that road. The guy’s enthusiasm had only waned when the lab results confirmed the cocktail of drink and drugs in the driver’s bloodstream. ‘Maybe they didn’t pass the information on to your ex-husband?’
‘Or he didn’t tell us,’ Suzanne suggested. ‘You remember how it was.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘And Jeff had to cope with the guilt he felt, as well.’
Kaz shrugged and fixed dark eyes on Devlin.
‘Your daughter was in the States, with your former husband, on an access visit, right? She was in the car with your husband’s PA when the accident happened?’
‘PA!’ Kaz snorted. She dumped her cup down on the table, fiddling with the ends of her scarf, as it brushed her shoulder. Devlin breathed in, wondering if she was going to let that wild hair loose. There was a pang of disappointment when she dropped her hands to her lap. ‘I didn’t want to let her go, not all that way, but he’d promised her Disney. They could have gone to Paris. And then he leaves her with his girlfriend while he’s off on some deal or other. They weren’t anywhere near Disneyworld.’
‘No,’ Devlin agreed. Not by the direct route.
Suzanne put her hand over her daughter’s, stilling the working fingers. ‘Jamie would have been happy, darling. She was seeing new things, and having some attention from her father. And she liked Gemma.’
‘I know.’ The fingers convulsed, then her eyes were back on Devlin. He waited, but she didn’t speak.
‘I didn’t know whether I should get in touch with you,’ he said softly. ‘A phone call didn’t seem – if I did it, I wanted it to be in person … I figured you might contact me – but if you didn’t know, then that explains that one.’
‘If I’d known about you, I would have got in touch.’
He didn’t doubt. Something subtle unknotted in his chest. It had been hard not to wonder … if it was simply that no one had cared enough.
Her gaze was impossible to look away from, it simply nailed him to the lime-green sofa and kept him there. He sensed the shift in her. The anger was receding. Now she wanted to know. He took a breath. ‘It was almost dusk, but still quite light. Something on the road – I don’t know – made me stop. As soon as I was out of the car I could see the smash. It was quite a way down the slope.’ Abruptly he was back on the edge of the highway, feeling the shale under his feet, hearing it slide. ‘Once I got down there – there was nothing to be done for the driver. Then I spotted your daughter. She’d been thrown clear.’
He swallowed, reaching for his cup. He took a swig of cold tea, felt rather than saw Suzanne’s half-hearted move to re-fill his cup and Kaz’s answering move to stop her. The eyes didn’t let him go. Finish this.
Suzanne’s hands were over her eyes. Kaz sat straight. Those dark eyes were full too, but he understood that she wouldn’t cry in front of him. ‘I guess I’ll leave now.’ He stood. ‘You had a beautiful daughter, Mrs Elmore. I’m sorry that I never knew her.’ He held out his hand. After a second Kaz rose and took it.
‘Thank you.’ Her voice choked. ‘For coming, and for telling us. I apologise for my anger. I thought – I don’t know what I thought. When it first happened, there were a few reporters … I wasn’t in any state to give interviews, but one of them talked his way in. I gave him a couple of quotes and I thought he’d left. I found him in the kitchen. He had Jamie’s drawings –’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Devlin broke in. ‘I wish you well, Mrs Elmore, you and your other little girl. I’ll see myself out. I think your mother needs you.’ Suzanne’s face was buried in her arm, shoulders shaking. ‘Tell her goodbye for me.’
‘I will.’ Kaz turned towards her mother.
All he wanted now was to get out. Leave them alone with their grief. Grief he’d stirred up. Shit. The next thing after that he wanted was a stiff drink. Something was making his eyes heavy. Maybe it was jet lag?
He’d reached the door, in three quick strides, before she spoke again. ‘Mr Devlin? What made you think I had another daughter?’
Never Coming Home Page 2
