The Mourner

by Susan Wilkins

  ‘All I know is she didn’t commit suicide.’

  Julia frowned. ‘It really wasn’t you she went up to Glasgow to visit?’

  ‘Like I told Nicci, she might’ve come looking, but we never met up. Witness Protection tuck you up pretty tight.’

  ‘I don’t understand any of it.’

  Picking up an olive from the bowl, Kaz popped it in her mouth. Watching Julia take another absent-minded swig of wine, seeing her eyes grow distant as the booze started to kick in, she felt a pang of nostalgia for that blurring of sharp edges, the sliding away of inhibition.

  She needed to get some answers before Julia got totally wasted. ‘But you’ve hired Nicci Armstrong and a bunch of ex-cops. What do they say?’

  Julia swirled the wine round her glass then drained it. ‘I think they agree it wasn’t suicide. Beyond that . . .’

  She refilled her glass. Stared into it. ‘I just wish she’d left some message for me.’

  ‘If she was murdered, she’d never have had the chance.’

  When Julia looked up, there were tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them with the back of her hand. ‘Glad you said it, not me.’

  Kaz got off the stool. She had the distinct sense she was being played. Julia’s small stature was deceptive. She had been talking to police and detectives for weeks – and yet she couldn’t bring herself to say Helen was murdered?

  She scrutinized the neat, petite woman in front of her. Since they’d met earlier in the coffee shop, Julia had washed her hair, applied some discreet mascara, changed her clothes. Shoeless, she’d made herself smaller. Tanked up on half a bottle of wine she seemed all the more fragile.

  Kaz towered over her. ‘What exactly d’you think’s gonna happen here? We get a bit cosy, we get a bit pissed. And if I have sex with you then I’ll open up and tell you all the secrets you think I know about Helen?’

  Julia’s jaw slackened, she swayed on the balls of her feet, colour rising in her cheeks. ‘No, I—’

  ‘Oh come on, Julia. You been rumbled. Wine, olives? Hair all soft and shiny, touch of cleavage?’

  Julia took a gulp of wine to steady herself. ‘I just – I just want to know why?’

  ‘Why she was killed? Me too.’

  ‘Why you?’ The look in Julia’s eyes hardened. ‘Why did she want you? I built my whole life around her, supported her career.’ Her face crumpled into an angry scowl. ‘What the fuck is it about you?’

  So now they’d got to the nub of it. Julia was glaring at her like an aggrieved toddler. All Kaz could do was exhale and shrug.

  And Julia hadn’t finished. ‘I know you’re lying about Glasgow. You met her at Malmaison, slept with her, didn’t you?’

  ‘No—’

  ‘Nicci might buy that, but I don’t. I saw the postcard you sent her. “Thanks for a great time, K.” Remember that? I found it in her desk drawer.’

  ‘That was from ages ago.’

  Julia’s fists were clenched, her face streaked with mascara and tears. ‘I just want to know the bloody truth!’

  Kaz moved away, giving her a wide berth. She hadn’t come to upset the poor woman. The fantasy of revenge she’d once had seemed completely absurd now. And she wouldn’t have needed a gun to harm Julia. She could’ve finished her off with her bare hands.

  The advantage her height gave her was somehow freeing. Maybe this was the ego-trip blokes experienced when they went out with a small, dainty woman? Bigger did mean more powerful. It fuelled her confidence.

  When she’d rung the doorbell she’d felt unsure. Now a chaos of conflicting emotions was cascading through her. Julia’s raw pain, her tears, her vulnerability, somehow it was all quite seductive. However much Kaz resisted it, still she felt the pull. She had the power and she wanted to use it.

  Julia pulled a tissue from the box on the counter and slowly wiped her face and nose. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Her voice was cracked and small, she seemed unabashed by her outburst. Kaz watched her. However unconscious it might be, Julia knew how to play the game. A man wouldn’t have hesitated. Prey and predator. She was offering herself, trading the only real asset she believed she had. It was an ancient, instinctive ploy.

  Kaz stepped across the room and gently put her hand on Julia’s arm. Julia glared then something in her seemed to give way and she slowly inclined her head towards Kaz’s shoulder. A gesture of submission or just emotional fatigue?

  Kaz lifted her hand and stroked Julia’s hair. ‘Listen. She wanted you. She married you.’

  Julia’s head rested on her shoulder, her eyes brimmed with tears. Kaz folded her arms round the narrow frame. She could feel Julia’s warmth, her breath. Her hair carried a flowery scent. It felt good to be holding her. What the fuck? Why not?

  Julia raised her face to be kissed, letting her eyes close.

  Kaz stroked the tip of her little finger along Julia’s lower lip. ‘Don’t close your eyes.’

  She blinked, gazed up at Kaz.

  A ghost of a smile greeted her. ‘’Cause I’m not her. She’s dead.’

  ‘I know that.’

  44

  Blake sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, brow furrowed, trying to appear calm and in control. Ranged in front of him were Nicci, Bharat and Rory; insofar as SBA had ‘heads of department’ they were it.

  Taking a breath he leant back in his chair and opened his palms. ‘I quite understand your reservations, Nicci, but his role will be mainly strategic.’

  Nicci had her hands on her hips and was glowering at him. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

  ‘He’s not an ideal choice, I grant you, but we’re under pressure from investors and we need to develop a longer term perspective for the business.’

  She was fizzing with fury. Rory watched with interest. He and Bharat were bystanders in the argument; it was between the two ex-cops.

  Nicci shook her head in disbelief. ‘I’ve worked for Turnbull. I know all about his strategies. He’s a user and he’s got no scruples. New firm, all set up and ticking over nicely. He’s here for your job, Simon. It’s a takeover. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘Oh come on, Nic,’ Blake huffed. Her anger he could handle, it was the disdain in her voice that stung. ‘You really think I’m going to let that happen?’

  ‘Then grow some balls and tell the investors no.’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that.’ He shoved back his chair and stood up. He’d been up most of the night searching for some way to resist Linton’s diktat. It had left him feeling beleaguered. What he needed was her help.

  She simply glared at him. ‘Why not? You think they’re just going to pull the plug if you don’t kowtow? There’s money to be made, they know that.’

  Blake turned away to face the window. It was more or less what his wife had said, though she’d been gentler and more deferential to his bruised ego.

  The financial world of banks and investors was new territory for him. He’d dealt with plenty of villains over the years, but this lot were something else. Duncan Linton had threatened him and he’d caved in. Setting up his own firm had been a dream and he’d stumbled and panicked at the first fence. He felt ashamed of the way he’d handled things, but he couldn’t afford to let his employees see that. Especially Nicci.

  He took a deep breath and turned back to face them. ‘Okay, I hear your concerns. But the decision’s made. He starts tomorrow.’ He glanced at the two silent men. ‘What about you two? Anything you want to say?’

  Bharat shrugged his shoulders; arguments put him on edge, he just wanted to get back to his computers.

  Rory had built a career in the army thanks to his ability to manage men and their fears. He could see the tension pulsing off Blake, sense the underlying distress. The boss was out of his depth and scared – that much was obvious. Nicci’s tactic, haranguing the guy, was counter-productive. Rory’s technique was to bide his time. He flashed Blake an encouraging smile. ‘Well, we’ll have to see how it goes.’

&n
bsp; Nicci glared at him. Trust bloody Rory to be a useless wimp. Bharat’s acquiescence she expected. She stomped out of the room.

  Blake gave the remaining two a shrug of masculine complicity. Women, eh?

  As they headed out he called after them, ‘Thanks, guys.’ But his face was pale, his palms sweating.

  Rory wandered across the office to Nicci’s workstation. She had her feet up on the desk and was scrolling through messages on her phone.

  ‘Are you free this evening? Perhaps you’d join me for dinner.’

  Nicci almost dropped the phone in surprise. ‘What?’

  He was standing with his hands interlaced loosely behind his back – the stance of a soldier at ease, reflecting the habits of a lifetime. ‘I think we should talk about all this, don’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so, yeah.’ She put the phone down, her colour and awkwardness rising. ‘But I’ve got to go over to Hackney – talk to some cops about a murder.’

  He drew his own mobile from his trouser pocket. ‘Let’s exchange numbers and you can text me when you’ve finished. I’ll pick you up.’

  ‘Er, yeah – okay.’ She stared at him for a moment. ‘Is Bharat coming too?’

  Rory glanced up from his mobile, amused. ‘Seriously, what would be the point in that?’

  45

  Kaz held Julia Hadley in her arms and gently rocked her. She’d hated this woman, had lost count of the nights she’d spent imagining revenge scenarios. What she’d never imagined was this. They were in the sitting room on the sofa that had belonged to Helen. Sex had been Julia’s chosen weapon. Or maybe it was just the booze that had alchemized her resentment and anger into desire. But Kaz had gone along with it, at least initially.

  In the kitchen they’d kissed, shyly, nervously. At first Kaz got a buzz from the fact she was being offered the opportunity to dominate and seduce the woman who’d caused her so much pain. Julia wanted to know what Helen had got from her – well she could certainly show her some of that – or she thought she could.

  When it came to it though, it felt cold-blooded, and ripping Julia’s clothes off to have full-blown sex on the ceramic-tiled floor seemed ridiculous. Kaz discovered that the sadistic gene, which definitely ran in her family, seemed to have passed her by. There was no pleasure for her in being either emotionally or physically cruel to Julia. So she’d led her into the sitting room, sat her down and cuddled her instead.

  Julia had relaxed; her eyes still red-rimmed from crying, she seemed relieved at Kaz’s decision.

  As Kaz stroked her hair, feeling the quiet inhalation and exhalation of breath, the weight of Julia’s head on her shoulder, she had the first real moment of peace she’d experienced since leaving Glasgow.

  Learning of Helen’s death, the rage it had invoked, the headlong rush down to London to find the truth – and on top of all that, seeing Joey – it was like being swept up in a whirlwind. She’d found some respite with Mike, his unconditional kindness had soothed her. But she’d been left emotionally wrung-out. What she needed more than anything was time to stop and think.

  The email Mike had helped her write might buy her some time with the probation service. But once they started asking questions she’d be at risk of being recalled to jail for breaching her licence. And then there was the spectre of Joey. How the hell had he escaped and where was he now? Ibiza? Almost certainly. He had plenty of contacts out there. He may have even managed to keep the business up and running while he was inside. And he’d soon get access to some of the cash he’d salted away in untraceable offshore accounts.

  She wondered how much she should fear him. She’d seen first-hand what he was capable of; it was no exaggeration to say her little brother was a murderer and a psychopath. At one time she’d been the only person he truly cared about, the one person he’d never harm, but the bond forged through their terrible childhood had been severed when she’d testified against him in court. She’d betrayed him, and there was no way Joey would ever forgive her. Sooner or later someone would come for her – or maybe he’d want the pleasure of pulling the trigger himself.

  So where did that leave her now? Cradling her ex-lover’s lover and wondering which outcome she preferred – ending up dead or back in jail.

  Suddenly aware that Julia was watching her, she murmured, ‘You okay?’

  Julia nodded. ‘I feel a bit embarrassed.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Emotion and booze, never a good combination.’

  Kaz smiled. ‘It’s a while since I done it. But no, never the smartest move.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Well, now we’ve got the crap out the way, we could have a proper discussion about all this.’

  Julia eased herself free of Kaz’s arms and leant back against the sofa. ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’ Her tone was confident; the delicate femme persona had been shed.

  ‘Okay.’ Kaz kicked off her shoes and folded her legs under her. ‘My view is Helen Warner treated me like shit and probably you as well. But she was clever and fearless, she also helped me turn my life around and she didn’t deserve to die. I wanna know who killed her. I wanna know why. And then, whoever they are, I wanna make those fucking bastards pay.’

  A hint of a tear glistened in Julia’s eye but she smiled. ‘I’m beginning to understand why she was in love with you.’

  Kaz gave her an arch grin. ‘I could say the same.’

  Their eyes met. Enemies about to become allies? Kaz was wary. Growing up surrounded by meanness hadn’t made her one of life’s optimists. She was happy to play along and see how things developed. Trust? Now that was different matter.

  And Julia was wearing her own mask, she had her own secrets to protect. Still, there was considerable relief in her gaze. Since the moment she’d received the news of Helen’s death she’d felt totally alone. At least now someone else felt as infuriated by official acceptance of the suicide theory as she did.

  ‘So how do we approach this?’

  Kaz had been giving it some thought, but she needed more information before she could come up with a strategy. ‘Nicci Armstrong was pretty smart when she was a cop. But what d’you know about this outfit she works for now?’

  ‘They’re called SBA. The guy that runs it is Simon Blake – he was a commander in the Met. Helen’s father managed to get a meeting with the Commissioner to discuss the investigation. They were really cagey about the whole thing. It was the Assistant Commissioner who took me aside afterwards, suggested that I hire a private investigator and recommended Blake.’

  ‘Why d’you think he did that?’

  ‘She, actually. Her name’s Fiona Calder. Nicci knows her.’

  Kaz got up and took a turn about the room. ‘Okay, so what’s Nicci done so far?’

  ‘I think she’s been going through the evidence. She’s asked me loads about Helen.’

  ‘Bugger all basically?’

  A look of amusement spread over Julia’s features. ‘Yeah. Probably.’

  Kaz ran her hand through her hair – a gesture that reminded Julia of Helen. ‘Then it’s time we put the screws on her. Make her realize that this is not just another case and she needs to pull her finger out.’

  ‘You think she’ll respond to that?’

  ‘Yeah. Me and her have got some history. I’ll have a word, if you like.’

  ‘Yeah, that would be good.’ Julia’s back was straighter, her whole being seemed lighter. ‘And thanks. I mean, I know you’re not doing this for me, but . . .’

  Kaz’s phone started to trill in her jeans pocket.

  She gave Julia a smile as she drew it out. ‘Wonder what Helen would make of this? The two of us?’

  ‘I think she’d approve. She had a keen sense of irony.’

  Glancing down at the phone Kaz tapped in her passcode with both thumbs. A message carrying a video clip popped up. She hit the play button.

  As the clip started to play her jaw slackened, composure draining from her features. ‘Awww, shit!’
r />   Julia frowned. ‘What’s the problem?’

  Kaz’s eyes were riveted to the small screen. A low keening sob was emanating from the handset.

  Kaz bunched her other fist. ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

  Puzzled, Julia got up. Fury was erupting in Kaz and she couldn’t contain it, couldn’t keep still. She let Julia take the phone.

  Julia peered at the screen. A woman’s face was pressed close to the camera lens, her left eye was puffy and closed up, her swollen cheek oozed blood. A hand was grasping a hank of her hair, pulling the head back slightly to reveal a plastic ligature biting into the flesh of her neck. And the ligature was being slowly tightened. She gasped for breath.

  ‘My God!’ Julia gasped in horror. ‘What is this? Who is she?’

  Kaz was turning in agitated circles, arms clasped round her torso. She was fighting back tears of rage. It took her a moment to respond.

  ‘Her name’s Yasmin. She’s a friend of mine.’

  ‘They’re killing her! We must call the police.’

  ‘The police!’ Kaz turned on her. ‘They’ll be fuck all use. Yasmin’s a prostitute. She’ll be dead in a skip before they even get a trace on the phone.’

  ‘We’ve got to do something.’ Julia was holding the handset with rigid fingers as if the pain on the screen was searing her hand. ‘I’m calling them.’

  They watched Yasmin’s eyes open with a start as the ligature was released. She coughed hoarsely. Her fingers flew up to the deep red welt ringing her throat. Muffled laughter could be heard behind her.

  Then a male voice: ‘So – now y’know where it’s at. I wanna word wi’d you, Kaz Phelps. There’s a pub in Tottenham. In the High Road. Bricklayers, innit. I wanna see you stood outside, on your own, eight o’clock. I see anyone wi’d you, you keep me waiting, your lil’ fuck-buddy here, she’s dead meat. You feel me?’ He laughed. ‘Yeah, I think you do.’

  The clip ended, the screen went black. Kaz and Julia stared at each other.