He hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but there was little visiting time left and he wanted to see Katy before he went home. He went to push open the door when Katy’s voice went up a notch.
“You just won’t listen,” she said. “It was my own fault. Dad tried to stop me. I disobeyed him.”
He couldn’t make out Lydia’s answer, but whatever she’d said, Katy didn’t agree.
“You don’t want to believe it. That’s cos it’s easier for you to blame him than blame yourself. Where were you when I was playing detective? Nowhere! You didn’t want me around. You never wanted me. You’d have been happier if I’d died instead of Sarah.”
Paolo felt an electric shock run through him. Should he go in? Should he go home and leave them to sort themselves out? He hovered outside the door, hand in the air, feeling unable to go forward or back.
“As long as you can blame Dad, you don’t have to look at yourself.”
He had to put a stop to this. As he reached out to open the door, Lydia’s voice made him wait.
“You’re wrong, Katy. I do blame myself. I could have…I should have spent more time with you. It’s no excuse, but we all fell apart after Sarah died. All of us. Your dad disappeared into himself. You wouldn’t talk to anyone. I wanted to die along with Sarah. But you’re wrong about me wishing you’d taken Sarah’s place. I love you, Katy. I love you every bit as much as I loved, still love, Sarah.”
The sound of Lydia and Katy both sobbing broke Paolo’s heart, but now wasn’t the right moment to go in. He waited until the crying stopped and then quietly opened the door, ready to go in, but not wanting to disturb them. As he was about to step into the room, Lydia said something he’d believed he would never hear.
“I’ll tell your dad I’m sorry for pushing all the blame his way and I promise I won’t try to keep you two apart. Can you forgive me, Katy?”
Paolo quietly closed the door. This wasn’t his time. It belonged to mother and daughter. He’d call Katy later and tell her a little white lie, say he’d been caught up in something and hadn’t been able to get to the hospital in time. He turned and headed towards the lift. He got in and, just as the doors were closing, a man hit the button. The doors opened again and the man got in. He gestured for Paolo to go ahead and press which floor he wanted, before pressing for his own.
In that instant, it came back to Paolo where he’d seen Isuf Xhepa, the owner of the language school. He was the man in the lift the day he and CC came to the hospital after the child had been admitted. He, too, had waited for CC to press the floor number before pressing his own. Another visit to Mr Xhepa was on the cards for tomorrow. Paolo would be very interested to find exactly what he’d been doing in the hospital that morning.
He walked back down to the car park, intending to go home, but when he saw the pink handcuffs and whip on the backseat he remembered it was his birthday. Did he really want to spend the evening in his flat with no one to talk to? Maybe he should find a restaurant nearby. He’d still have no one to talk to, but at least he wouldn’t be alone. Suddenly, he felt a tremendous urge to be surrounded by other people so that he didn’t have to think or feel.
He left the car where it was and walked along Chesterfield Road until he came to an Italian restaurant. Perfect! A reminder of his mother’s cooking in a place he’d never been before was exactly what he needed right now.
Pushing open the door, he went inside. The smell of garlic and herbs lifted his spirits. The restaurant wasn’t that busy, but there were enough full tables to provide a nice buzz of conversation. Paolo was shown to a small table near the back of the room. As he picked up the menu, the door opened again. He looked up and saw Jessica Carter come in. She appeared to be alone. Paolo couldn’t make out what was said, but the waitress led Jessica to the small table next to his.
“Small world,” he said as she spotted him. He hesitated. Why not? “Would you like to join me, or are you waiting for someone?”
“No,” she said. “That is, no, I’m not waiting for anyone. I often eat here as it’s so convenient for the hospital. I’m used to eating alone.”
Paolo wished now he hadn’t said anything. “Sorry, I didn’t…”
Jessica smiled. “Actually, I’d love to join you,” she said, taking the chair opposite him. “It would make a very pleasant change to have someone to talk to while I eat. But we have to have one house rule. We cannot mention your daughter or ex-wife. Or anything to do with Katy’s care and prognosis. It wouldn’t be ethical without Mrs Storey being here.”
Paolo smiled. “I’m happy to go along with that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
18th October (morning)
The next morning Paolo arrived at the station feeling happier than he had for a long, long time. His visit to Katy on his way into work had raised his spirits considerably. She hadn’t mentioned her mother’s visit and seemed to accept his excuse for not coming the night before. Paolo tried to convince himself that was why he felt so cheerful, but in his heart he knew the evening spent in Jessica Carter’s company had a lot to do with the fact that he’d woken this morning with a smile on his face.
Not that the evening had been romantic in any way. It hadn’t been. But if he couldn’t enjoy a few hours chatting and putting the world to rights with an attractive woman, then he might just as well turn his toes up and wait to die.
They’d found they had a lot in common, not least the same sense of humour. Paolo remembered the laughter and automatically smiled.
“Is that our leader I see before me?” CC called out as he passed. “No, can’t be. The man is smiling. Help! Our boss has been abducted by aliens.”
He turned to her and felt an overwhelming urge to stick his tongue out. Yes, Paolo, very professional, he thought. He settled for grinning instead.
“Very funny, CC.”
He looked around and saw George wasn’t yet in. Realising now would be a good time to try to find out what was going on, he asked CC to come into his office.
“Shut the door,” he said as she followed him in.
“Sounds ominous,” she said. “Am I in trouble? I was only pulling your leg. It’s just that it was so damn nice to see you come in with a smile on your face.”
“What? No, it’s nothing to do with that. Take a seat.” Paolo waited until she was settled. “Is there a problem between you and George?”
She looked startled. “I don’t know. What made you ask?”
“George doesn’t seem to be his normal self and neither do you.”
CC shifted in her chair as if the conversation made her uncomfortable. Paolo supposed it would. She’d been partnered with George for the best part of a year and they always seemed to get on well.
“As far as I know,” she said, “George is fine with me. I certainly don’t have a problem with him.”
Paolo smiled. “There’s a but in your voice. I can hear it.”
“But, you’re right, he isn’t happy. I don’t know why and I’m not going to pry. If he wants to tell me…”
“Calm down, CC. I’m not asking you to pry. I’m not asking you to do anything. I just wondered if you knew of anything that might be making George unhappy here at work. You should know me well enough by now to understand I’m only asking to find out if there’s any way I can help.”
She smiled. “Sorry, sir. Wicked Irish temper. It comes up too quickly. I don’t know what’s up with George, but you’re right, something is. Why not ask him?”
“I’m going to. I just thought you might be able to point me in the right direction before I spoke to him.”
She stood up. “I’d help you if I could, but I honestly don’t know what’s eating him. I tried to find out yesterday and he bit my head off. So good luck with that, sir.”
“Thanks, CC. I’ll be out shortly to bring you all up to date.”
Paolo waited until everyone was facing him. “Right, let’s see where we are at the moment. The feedback so far from uniform is that no one on the housin
g estate saw or heard anything the night the child took refuge in the woods. That means one of two things. Someone there is lying to cover their own tracks, or she came from this side of the woods,” he said, pointing to the map. “As we know, there are only two properties on that side. One is empty and hasn’t been lived in for some time. Dave and I were there yesterday evening and couldn’t see any signs of disturbance to suggest the house was being used by anyone. The other property belongs to Pete Carson. He wasn’t at home when we called there, but his housekeeper assures us he is due back later this afternoon. So that’s on our agenda for today. Before I go into detail about the travellers I want to pass on another snippet of information. It may have a bearing on the case, it may not. I remembered last night where I’d seen the owner of the language school before.” He turned to CC. “Do you remember the morning we went to the hospital a man rushed into the lift at the last moment?” When she nodded he continued, “I’m fairly certain it was Isuf Xhepa. He might have a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he was there, but he might also have been waiting for us to arrive to find out which ward the child was on. After all, no one could ask at the information centre without drawing attention to themselves.”
George raised his arm. “I’d be happy to go and interview him, sir, as you and Dave are busy today.”
“Thanks, George,” Paolo said, “but I think it’s better if I go as I’d like to see his face when I ask him the questions. I mentioned to him when I was there last that I thought I’d seen him before. I’m now wondering why he didn’t mention that it was in the lift. Although it’s quite likely he didn’t see me because he was distracted by CC’s hair, which was green at the time.”
CC laughed. “How do you like the new colour?”
“It’s brown, CC, just brown. I wondered if you weren’t feeling well.”
She grinned. “Just felt like blending in a bit for a change, sir.”
“So I don’t get to go out on an interview?” Geoge said, bringing them back on track.
Paolo shook his head. “Not this time. I really think it’s better if Dave and I go on our way to visit Pete Carson.”
George slung his pad on the desk, but didn’t say anything.
“What you’re doing here is every bit as important. In fact, in many ways, it’s even more vital, George. We need to be fully armed with information when we go to talk to anyone. You are better at digging out that background info than anyone else in this office.”
“Yeah, right,” George said under his breath, but loud enough to be heard.
Paolo debated picking him up on it, but decided now wasn’t the time.
“CC, any news from forensic on the child’s clothes? Not that they will be much help as they came from the travellers. And what about the DNA from the semen swabs? Do we know when we’re likely to get that result?”
“Nothing of interest on the clothes, sir. No news yet on the DNA, but I’ll chase that up and let you know what I find out.”
“Okay, everyone. Back to work. Dave, you and I will be off to have a chat with Pete Carson in a few hours. According to his housekeeper she’s expecting him home by two. We’ll head out after that. Before then, we’ve got time call in on the language school and find out what took Isuf Xhepa to hospital that day. Okay?”
He’d set his phone to silent, but its buzzing alerted him to a call. Looking down, he didn’t recognise the number displayed. Could be the old man from last night. He picked it up and slid the bar across to answer the call.
“Storey.”
“You’d better come quickly,” a female voice said. “They’ve just dropped off one of the kids at the top of Zephyr Road.”
The line went dead.
“Dave, change of plan. You come with me. We’ve got a child to rescue before some pervert picks her up. George, this is your opportunity to get out of the office. CC, you come too. I’ll arrange for a couple of uniform to go with you both. CC, when we pick the girl up you and a WPC can take her straight into care. George, I want you and a PC to wait for the car to come back. When it does, don’t approach. I need you to follow it and see where it goes. With a bit of luck, Bekim and Edar are going to be chatting to us later today.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
18th October (morning/afternoon)
Pete drove in through the gates, tired and glad to be home. He hated London with a passion. He knew it was stupid, after all, he was supposed to be the big rock star, even if it had been many years since he’d been at the top, but he much preferred being home. Here he could indulge his needs without worrying about some fucking snapper catching him unawares.
He parked the Lamborghini Gallardo in front of the ten car garage. He’d put it away later. Right now, he needed something to eat and a sleep. Fucking hotel beds always made his back ache.
And it had been a pointless trip, which made his blood boil even more. Fucking agent hadn’t been able to drum up any real interest in his comeback concert. Yeah, he could get him a small mention on the entertainment pages of most rags, but apparently, if a washed up reality star sneezed, that would make a bigger story than his getting back on the road. Reality star? What was that all about? Talentless shits who did nothing but argue in some dead end show were now classed as stars? How the fuck did that happen?
He opened the front door and headed for the stairs. He’d only gone up two when his housekeeper called out.
“Oh, Mr Carson. Welcome home.”
“Thanks,” he said, barely turning his head.
“I’m sorry, Mr Carson, but…”
Pete spun round.
“But what?” he snarled. “Whatever it is will have to wait, okay?”
Mrs Baxter looked as though he’d slapped her.
He felt bad. It wasn’t her fault his agent was a useless piece of shit. “Look, I didn’t mean to yell at you, but I’m tired and need to sleep.”
“I…I’m sorry, Mr Carson. I wouldn’t normally disturb you, but it’s the police.”
Pete’s heart began to beat so fast he thought he was going to puke. As he came back down the stairs his head swam. The police! Now what? Surely the stupid bitch hadn’t told anyone about the blood on the gates.
“The police? What happened? Did you call them?”
“No, Mr Carson. They came here yesterday, but didn’t say what it was about. They’re coming back today.”
He forced himself to stand still even though his entire body was screaming at him to run and never look back.
“Did they say what time?” he asked and was pleased to hear his voice sounding normal.
“No, not a definite time. Just that it would be some time this afternoon. They seemed to think you might have witnessed something.”
“What sort of something?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs Baxter said. “They didn’t tell me.”
It must be to do with that brat who got away, Pete thought. Smile, Pete. Come on, smile and pretend you haven’t a clue what it’s about.
“In that case, I’d better get up and have a quick shower before they get here. Make me some coffee, would you? I’ll be down in about fifteen minutes.”
His smile disappeared as he turned and continued up the stairs. His mood, already black, sank even lower. What did the cops know? How had they found him? Thank fuck he’d given instructions for the studio to be cleaned while he was away. Any evidence he’d had girls over there should be gone. Maybe he should ask Mrs Baxter if it had been done? No, not a good idea. That would draw her attention to it. She might put two and two together and actually make four.
As the hot water blasted down on him, Pete tried to get his mind under control. It was no good panicking. He had to find out what made the cops pick on him. If they were picking on him. Hadn’t she said something about being a witness? But to what? He hadn’t seen anything the police would be interested in apart from his own actions. No, it must be to do with the brat escaping. Maybe he should call Joey. He might know what the fuck was going on. On the other hand,
did he want Joey to know the police were sniffing around? What if it turned out it was nothing to do with that brat after all? What if it was something completely different? If he told Joey before he even knew what was going on, maybe Joey wouldn’t let him have one of the girls he was moving around to different homes.
He decided to wait and see what the police had to say. He could always call Joey for help later. Maybe he was overreacting.
He climbed out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Catching sight of himself in the mirror he shuddered. No way could he go to prison and become some fucker’s bitch. He’d kill himself first.
As he dressed, he ran over events in his mind once more. Joey was sure he’d got to the girl before she’d had chance to talk, so she couldn’t have pointed fingers at him. Relax, Pete. You’ve got nothing to worry about.
But, as he dressed, his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t do up the buttons on his shirt. Fuck it, he thought, I’ll wear something else. Ripping the shirt off, he threw it on the bed. He grabbed a tee shirt, pulled it over his head and went downstairs. A few mugs of coffee and he’d feel better.
A couple of hours later the intercom sounded and Pete’s heart started up that sickening heavy beat that made him want to puke. He’d drunk so much coffee by then he was almost high. For the whole afternoon his mind had been running overtime on all that could have happened. He’d picked up his phone at least a hundred times, but stopped himself from calling Joey.
He let Mrs Baxter answer the intercom and open the gates. Waiting for them in the drawing room, he tried to relax, but his hands shook. Head swimming, he fought off wave after wave of nausea. It felt as if an hour had passed before the door opened and Mrs Baxter came in with two men.
Pete recognised the older of the two. He’d been on television some time back doing some sort of press conference asking for help to track someone down. Pete couldn’t remember the details, but he knew the police had found the man they’d been hunting. Shit, that wasn’t good. That meant these two were heavy duty cops. Not here about an unpaid parking ticket.
Someday Never Comes (#2 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 14
