‘Still there must’ve been times you shared stories? You must have known something about Charlotte outside of your lives at college?’
Connell pressed his lips together. ‘Absolutely not. We were a close-knit group and we socialised together. As far as I know, no one was interested in doing things outside of that circle because we had so much in common.’
‘Right.’
He was lying. She could see it in the restriction of his shoulders. In the way the muscles had tightened around his mouth.
Kal glanced over to the settee and Marty picked up the cue.
‘If you have photos that’d be lovely,’ Marty said.
‘Yes, I have them somewhere. Hang on a moment and I’ll dig them out.’
Connell was half way out the room when Kal went after him. She had a sudden desire to see his artwork. ‘What kind of art do you like to do?’ she asked.
His expression flickered. He was surprised. And not pleased.
‘With the students, I concentrate on their portfolio for application to college. In Sophie’s case, she’s been working on sketches, portraits, landscapes and watercolours. Watercolours are her favourites. To be an art therapist, she needs to gain an art degree first and then study art therapy as a specialised discipline. It’s a demanding path.’
‘I see.’ That was a neat side-step too. Though he offered plenty of information, designed to entice her interest, Connell told her nothing about his own work.
They’d reached the kitchen. At the back of the property, an added conservatory served as a studio. Through the sliding patio doors, she could see Connell’s work on an easel. It was a stark, grey image of a hooded figure standing in an open field. The figure’s face was partially hidden by the hood but what you could see of it was more skull than face. Parts of the body were missing and the landscape showed through the spaces. It looked like a rider of the apocalypse. Connell’s eyes followed Kal’s gaze. He gave a tight smile. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Er, well, it’s certainly grabs the attention.’
The kitchen had a pine table with two wooden benches, one of the benches neatly designed to fit around the corner of the room. Connell opened up the seat of that one. Over his shoulder, Kal saw it contained a sizeable storage of cardboard shoe boxes, some twenty in all. He selected one and his fingers didn’t hesitate, even though the boxes didn’t seem to be labelled. So, Connell knew exactly which box contained pictures of Charlotte? Why would that be? It meant this wasn’t an old storage area – it was somewhere Connell delved into regularly. Kal made sure not to show too much interest. She followed him back to the lounge, feeling the eyes of the hooded figure boring into her back.
Placing the box on the coffee table, Connell brought out a bunch of photographs and they all gathered round. The pictures showed a group of young people in a bar or a club. Charlotte stood out immediately. First of all because she looked like Sophie, and also because she was the centre piece of the group. Charlotte wore an orange blouse and dream-catcher ear-rings and her charisma came across loud and clear. It was much more difficult to pick out Connell. Kal spotted him at the edge of the group, looking awkward and lacking the confidence he’d gained with age.
‘This is Charlotte,’ said Connell. ‘I’m sure you must have seen photographs of your mother before now, haven’t you Sophie?’
Connell passed the pictures around and Sophie stared at each one. The way Sophie drank in the details made Kal think Raymond hadn’t bothered to show her any at all. She felt a surge of anger –he’d completely neglected his own sister, just when she needed him, throwing her on the rubbish heap and leaving her in the care of others. Whilst he built his own career and his own success. The next time Kal saw him he’d better watch out. By the time Connell had passed around half the photographs the girl’s hands were shaking.
‘Oh dear, Sophie, are you feeling all right?’ asked Connell. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t carry on with this today.’
‘It’s okay,’ Sophie said in a small voice. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure? There’s no rush, my dear,’ Connell said.
Kal reacted quickly. ‘May I get Sophie a glass of water?’
Connell started to stand up.
‘It’s no bother, Mr Connell, you carry on here with Sophie. I know where the kitchen is.’
Kal didn’t wait for him to protest nor give his assent and she knew she had a good chance he’d stay to supervise the photographs. She left the room and when Connell didn’t follow she ran lightly to the kitchen and filled a glass at the sink. She left the water running. It wouldn’t take her long and it was worth the risk.
Earlier, she’d seen a second canvas placed behind the rider of the apocalypse. Kal eased open the door of the conservatory. The grating noise was masked by the running water. In four steps Kal was at the easel and she tilted forward the front canvas. The image behind took her breath. It was a young woman. Naked and kneeling. Reclining backwards. The girl’s breasts and stomach bore red, angry cuts. Kal heard a noise behind and she turned to find Connell at the door of the kitchen. His body was rigid with fury. If looks could kill, she thought, as she smiled and prepared her excuses.
Connell didn’t buy Kal’s explanation she’d simply been “curious”. Afterwards, the interaction between them turned staccato and it wasn’t long before they were shown the door. Without Sophie, Kal knew she’d have been thrown straight onto the street. The only thing she regretted was not having time to take a snap of the image, because she wanted to check with Sophie to see if the girl in the painting was modelled on any of the patients at Melrose. Kal hoped not. And she thought it very well could be. As soon as possible, Marty must use her internet skills to tap into Connell’s employment history and see if it correlated in any way with the string of deaths picked out by Spinks.
Back in the car, Kal told Marty and Sophie what she’d seen.
‘Bloody hell,’ Marty said.
Sophie looked shocked and didn’t say one word and Kal knew Marty would tell her off later for explaining the details so bluntly. Except Kal wasn’t the type to withhold information. In her book, Sophie had a right to know.
The rest of the drive passed in silence and Kal began to wonder why Sophie was so quiet. A twinge of conscience told Kal Marty might be right. Perhaps it had been too much too soon – the photographs, the explicit painting, memories of Charlotte. She couldn’t help feeling Sophie had been deeply stirred up and she didn’t have to wait long to find out the consequence. Halfway back to the apartment, Sophie spoke. Her voice had an odd, detached sound, as if the girl were half in shock.
‘I’d like to go back to my parents’ house; Lilac Mansions. Please will you take me?’
***
Marty pulled in at a petrol station. The car didn’t need filling up but she didn’t care. She’d been against taking Sophie to Connell’s house in the first place. And what the hell was Kal thinking giving all the lurid details on his sick painting? This was all wrong. Kal wasn’t reacting in the right way around Sophie. Not at all.
Marty dribbled two pounds’ worth into the tank. Kal got the message because when Marty headed into the shop to pay, Kal trailed after her. Marty rounded on Kal as soon as they were inside.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’
‘Wo- ah, calm down.’
‘No, I won’t. You’re gonna push that poor girl over the edge. What is it between you and her?’
Marty was slightly taller than Kal. They stood practically nose to nose. Marty knew Kal wasn’t the type to be intimidated and she also knew Kal often needed the sense pounded into her.
‘Why lay all those horrible details on Sophie? And why the hell are we chasing off to this place? She’s not ready. You’re pushing too hard.’
‘I’m not pushing. She wants to go there.’
‘Does she? Or is she asking because you already talked to her about it?’
‘I never mentioned her parents’ place.’
‘What is it about Sophi
e that’s got to you? Why are you taking this so personally?’
‘Oh, let me think – was it because I found Penny hacked to death on a bed? Oh no, maybe it’s because a teenage girl is lying in the morgue and someone’s trying to frame Sophie for it.’
‘Don’t get smart with me, Kal. You know that’s not what I mean.’
‘Then what are you getting at?’
‘I mean you’re not thinking straight. You’re all over the place and it’s not like you. Anyone would think you owe her or something.’
‘Bullshit. I’m helping Sophie because she needs help.’
Marty knew Kal wouldn’t give in on a head-to-head. There was no point in going further. She’d better try another tactic.
‘Think about it, Kal, Sophie idolises you. She wants to impress you. Getting stronger is going to take time. It’s too soon.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t ido-’
Marty saw the point hitting home and decided to drive in another nail. Kal could be extremely single-minded and it took a lot of force to turn her off track. Marty had learned that growing up with Kal. And looking after her.
‘Talk her out of it,’ Marty said, taking her voice down a few notches. ‘Let her take one step at a time. You’re the right person to help her do that.’
‘I know what you’re saying, Marty, but think. Sophie’s the link. Going to the house might open up memories she’s shut away.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about. She’s going to get flooded. What if she needs specialist help afterwards? What’re we going to do, take her back to bloody Melrose?’
‘No, if necessary we’ll take her to a competent doctor.’
‘What, you’re prepared to go through with it knowing Sophie might not be able to cope? That’s damn irresponsible.’ Marty shook her head. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘Please don’t argue.’
Marty swung round and swore under her breath.
‘I want to go there,’ Sophie said. ‘I hope you both come as my friends, and if not, I’ll take a taxi.’
‘Listen, Sophie,’ Marty said, ‘I didn’t mean…’
‘It’s okay. I know you’re worried about me, it’s just,’ Sophie shrugged, ‘something I’ve got to do.’
‘It’s too soon,’ Marty said. ‘Give it more time. You’re barely over the shock of Eliza.’ Marty glanced at Kal, expecting objections, but Kal didn’t interrupt because she was scanning her messages. Marty prepared herself for Kal’s onslaught – Kal would tell it like she saw it, whether Marty liked it or not.
Kal put her phone back in her pocket and placed one arm around Sophie. ‘Maybe Marty’s right,’ she said.
Marty’s mouth almost dropped open.
‘Maybe rushing isn’t such a good idea. Listen, why not leave it until tomorrow and then see how you feel? Sleep on it and we can talk about it in the morning.’
Marty stared in disbelief. Kal would never back down without a fight. What hell was going on? And Sophie looked at Kal with those trusting almond eyes of hers and nodded.
Chapter Thirty
On the opposite bank of the Thames, the office blocks didn’t have their lights on today, and the tide was much further in than last time. It meant the patch of mud bank where they’d laid Alesha was below the waterline. That was a relief. Kal dearly wished for a different meeting place but she had no intention of letting Raphael know how she felt. She sat on a low brick wall and waited. Out on the water, a barge made its way up stream, its engine puttering.
‘Good afternoon, Kal, I’m so happy you could make it.’
Two men walked towards her. One, short and square, with massive shoulders and a massive torso, squeezed into a dark suit; Clarence the minder, she presumed. The other was younger, around her age. He had dark, shoulder-length wavy hair, a lightly tanned complexion and a model’s face with clear cut, almost angelic lines. He walked with a silver-topped cane and a limp which, in her assessment, came from a hip problem, most likely from a severe accident.
‘Raphael.’ She said it as a statement. She must give no hint of weakness in her presentation right from the word go. And she must make her assessment of him quickly and accurately and give as little away of herself as possible. David Khan would approve – it was the best way of getting out of this contract in one piece.
‘The one and only.’ Raphael sat beside her, not leaving enough space between them. She remained still as a rock, recalling Dante’s warnings about Raphael’s volatility.
Raphael leant towards her and his hair brushed her shoulder. It smelled sweet but Kal wasn’t misled by it. This man dripped danger. Very likely his temperament was made worse by the fact he’d inherited his power rather than earning it himself. Wealth, power, influence, instability – it was a menacing mix.
Raphael whispered close to her ear. ‘Ever taken part in illegal activity, Kal? Is it really your bag?’
‘Why shouldn’t it be?’
‘Seems you were quite the little minx over in India. Stirring up trouble. Took on more than you could deal with there, didn’t you?’
‘Not really.’
‘That’s why we had to bail you out, wasn’t it?’
‘Nobody bailed me out.’
Kal kept her tone cold. He’d gone straight in and he was needling around for her weak spot. That’s why he’d wanted to meet here, right where he knew they’d found Alesha, to put her on the back foot. Now he was searching for her vulnerabilities, for what made her twitch. Too bad for him. He’d not be successful.
‘Are you really Daddy’s girl?’ Raphael tilted his head to one side. ‘Have you got the balls for it?’
‘Listen, I’m here for one thing only and that’s to repay my debt. So why the hell don’t we stop playing games and get on with it?’
Behind them both, Clarence hadn’t moved a muscle. Raphael turned to speak to him. ‘Goodness Clarence, I’d hoped she was going to be more fun than this, didn’t you? She’s as boring as hell.’
Clarence didn’t comment.
Raphael smiled. A smile without humour and full of malice and she didn’t think the malice came from his certainly nasty nature. No, it was a layer worse than that, because she felt certain the malice came because Raphael had it in for her. It was personal. And it came from way before this meeting. In some part of himself Raphael already detested her. Hated her. Maybe that’s why he’d requested Kal work for him and that her debt to the Cartel be repaid through him.
Kal recalled the way Dante rested a protective hand on her shoulder and she was rarely afraid but she knew sometimes it was wise to be. This was one of those times. A light sweat prickled her lip. Kal looked towards the grey water of the Thames. She must keep focused and razor sharp. She must get a handle on this. The more she could find out about the source of Raphael’s hatred, the more chance she’d have of surviving it.
‘I’m grateful to your father for helping me,’ she said.
‘Yes, I’m sure you are, but then my father wouldn’t refuse, would he?’
Why wouldn’t the Baron turn her down? Because her father had been one of the Baron’s favourites? Because David Khan died avenging the death of the Baron’s older son? And why did Raphael resent that so much?
Raphael pushed on his cane to stand up. ‘You even look like him.’ The words were full of venom.
Kal’s head was spinning. ‘You’re talking about my father, David Khan, aren’t you? So, you knew him?’
‘Everybody knew David Khan, didn’t they, Clarence? He was a legend in his own lunchtime, haha.’
Jealousy. Envy. Rivalry. Hatred. It was all in there. Didn’t Dante tell her Raphael had always been second favourite? Maybe his older brother had allied with her father. Maybe David Khan had crossed Raphael in the past. Whatever the story, Raphael had a nature that fed the resentment, fed it and engorged it, and kept it rolling, and that whole package, that whole, fat agenda had just passed to her. Yes, it made this assignment highly risky and in her mind, Kal heard her fa
ther’s voice, as he whispered, “Mortally risky.” Kal kept her breathing even, knowing that Raphael would be scrutinising her for any tiny sign of fear. Should she try to pull out? Could she ask Dante to help her? Did she have any choices?
‘What’s the matter? Having second thoughts?’ This time Raphael didn’t make much effort to hide the goading. In a way, it was good, because it stirred up her anger.
‘You can back out if you like, Kal. We won’t hold it against you.’
And it wasn’t just her anger he was stirring up. It was also her pride.
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘Because you must do what I say and exactly what I say, you know that don’t you? And this won’t be for a novice.’
‘Doesn’t sound like a problem to me. Let’s get it over with.’
‘Not so fast, Kal, not so fast. We’ve a timetable to follow and you’ll be joining the team. Meet us tomorrow night. I’ll send you the address.’
‘Right.’
‘We’ve already covered obedience, haven’t we? Or dog-control as I like to call it. I snap my fingers and you jump, savvy? And there’s one other thing I demand from my inferiors and that’s punctuality. So don’t be late.’ Raphael waggled his finger in her face.
He must never see how he got to her. That would be a big mistake. So Kal looked Raphael straight in the eye and nodded as the sweat started to run down her back.
‘That’s my girl,’ Raphael said with a snigger.
Chapter Thirty-one
Tracking my victims is part of the game – their habits, their favourite take away outlets, what time they take the bus home and which seat they prefer, what movie house they like to go to. I build a detailed dossier. It’s part of my ritual and takes me months. Only once I feel satisfied that I know their life inside out, do I plan my move.
London Noir: A gripping crime suspense thriller (Kal Medi Book 2) Page 14
