Beautiful Death (12 page)

‘I’ll do it immediately. Is that all?’

‘For now. Both of you must stop worrying about me. If it reassures you, I’ve just made a call to one of the Met’s psychs. I’m being supervised by her until I begin ongoing counselling. My first session is this evening actually; she’s going to be presenting a report to DPS and making recommendations, so I’m doing it by the book, okay?’

They both nodded, embarrassed.

‘I’m not leaving anything open to criticism from our superiors but I don’t need my two senior officers scrutinising my every move or stressing unnecessarily. I’ll let you know if I’m not coping. Turn that energy away from me and into the op.’

‘Yes, sir,’ they said together again.

‘All right. Kate, you carry on. Let’s talk about the family,’ he said to Cam, although he glanced briefly at Kate. She knew his earlier speech was for her benefit more than Brodie’s.

* * *

Kate had already looked up the number of the Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery Unit at the Royal. Now she dialled it, and was put through to Chan’s assistant.

‘Susan Page here. How can I help?’

‘Susan, I’m DI Carter from Scotland Yard and I need to speak with Professor Chan as soon as possible please.’

‘He’s not here today. He’s at the clinic; he’s been there for the past two days. If this is about the person he knew from Chinatown, I think the police have already contacted him. I certainly took a call first thing this morning.’

‘Was that call from Bethnal Green?’

‘Yes, I believe it was.’

‘We’re overseeing the case here at headquarters, and it’s possible Professor Chan might be able to help us with some information. Do you know if thepolice have actually reached him yet?’

‘I’m sorry I don’t. Just a second.’ Kate could hear whispering. Susan returned. ‘Miss Carter —’

‘DI Carter,’ she corrected.

‘Sorry. Um, one of Professor Chan’s colleagues seems to know more than I do. Can I put you through to Dr Charles Maartens?’

‘Yes, why not, thank you.’

She heard the line click and a bright voice came on the other end.

‘Maartens.’

‘Hello, Dr Maartens.’

‘Hi, DI Carter, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Jimmy’s over at the clinic in Hertford but I can confirm he took a call from the police this morning
because I spoke to him briefly. He told me he would be leaving the clinic, and would cancel the day’s appointments. It didn’t sound like good news although he wouldn’t tell me what it was about. But I know that he was driving back to London this morning. I presume this is about the same thing?’

Kate paused. She had no intention of telling him if Chan hadn’t. ‘Thanks for that, Dr Maartens. I wonder, are you in a position to help me make an
appointment to see the professor please? Er, sooner rather than later would be best.’

‘Yes, of course, hang on a minute.’ Once again whispering ensued. ‘DI Carter? Susan agrees that if he’s already back in London then we can arrange something for tomorrow. She’ll call him to make sure because frankly neither of us really knows what his situation is — but can we tentatively say around 10 to 10.30 a.m.?’

‘That would be excellent,’ Kate said, recalling that both the profiler and the translator would be in attendance the next morning, but deciding that they’d have to work around it. ‘Thank you, I’ll be coming along with Detective Chief Inspector Jack Hawksworth.’

‘Susan will confirm with you later today, if that’s okay? I’ll pass you back to her so you can give her your contact details. But let me give you a mobile number in case I can help at all, outside of hospital hours.’ He reeled off a number that she scribbled down. ‘Call me any time, I’m very happy to help.’

‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’

‘My pleasure. Do you mind if I ask if everything is all right with Jimmy? I got the impression the call he took was connected to the family of his fiancée.’

‘Dr Maartens, you’ll have to forgive me but I’m
not able to discuss this with anyone right now. I hope you understand?’

‘Oh, of course. It’s just that we’re colleagues . . . well, more than that. We’re friends and I can’t tell you how unnerving it is not to know what’s happening. I’m wondering whether I need to cancel his appointments for the week, although he’s got some critical surgeries coming up —’

‘Doctor, I apologise, but I really can’t answer any questions. I’m sure as Professor Chan’s friend you’ll learn all that you need to shortly and will be able to take whatever measures are necessary at the hospital and the clinic.’ Kate needed to end this conversation. ‘Thank you again.’ Her voice was friendly, but the finality in her tone was unmistakeable. She waited while he handed her back to Susan.

Kate gave the assistant her details then hung up and glanced over at Jack’s office. He looked as glum as she’d anticipated. Cam must be giving him the lowdown on the family reaction to Lily Wu’s death. She got up and strolled towards his door.

‘Yes?’ he said, as she appeared in the doorway.

‘Tomorrow at 10-ish, to be confirmed, with Professor Chan, who is presently en route to London from his clinic in Hertford. I kept it polite, implied we’re just information gathering. He was contacted by Bethnal Green first thing and I’m presuming he’s been told.’

‘He has,’ Jack confirmed. ‘Cam has spoken with the family and they’ve said that Chan had already spoken to them.’

‘Mmm, then he may not want to see us at the hospital,’ Kate mused. ‘Anyway, his PA will confirm but right now it’s in the diary for the morning.’

‘That’s good.’

‘So how is the family?’

‘Inconsolable,’ Cam answered for Jack. ‘As you can imagine. They’ve had to call in the doctor for Mrs Wu who needs sedation. The father’s being stoic.’

Jack shook his head as if to clear it of Chan’s pain. ‘I think we should go over there again,’ he said to Cam.

‘Is that wise?’ Kate wondered. When Jack looked at her, she shrugged. ‘I mean, won’t you turning up make things difficult for the sister?’ Jack had told the team of Alys’s awareness of his relationship with Lily.

‘We can’t shy away from this, Kate. If my involvement with Lily comes out in the course of the investigation then I deal with it. And maybe I’ll be taken off the case, but as the senior officer right now I can’t avoid the family.’

‘I understand, sir, I just thought perhaps it would be better if Cam and I —’

‘I know and I appreciate that.’

Kate nodded. ‘Well, everything begins at 0800 tomorrow. We have the profiler, translator and then RLH.’

‘Fine. Let’s go, Cam. Keep the team focused, Kate.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

Namzul watched Aniela alight from the taxi. She’d put on a thick, shapeless wraparound cardigan since he’d last seen her and that pleased him because it
covered most of her other clothing. No one would be able to describe her too easily. He must remember to get rid of the cardigan. She’d put on some makeup, her lips glossy and painted a rich plum colour that matched her darkly dyed hair, cut in a scruffy
bob. Perhaps she was already high, Namzul thought. He hoped so.

He crossed the road and smiled shyly as she looked around and picked him out.

‘I thought —’ she began.

‘It is here,’ he said, pointing.

‘This is a restaurant,’ she said, frowning.

‘Look up,’ he said gently, taking her hand. ‘I live above it in a very small but nice flat.’

She hesitated, but only briefly. He could see in her eyes she’d taken something. And he could see her skin properly now. She was ideal.

‘How old are you, Aniela?’ he asked, guiding her towards the entrance. He didn’t want to linger here but he’d already decided if anyone asked, then yes, he’d paid a prostitute to come to his flat. A bit of honesty was best in this situation.

‘Nineteen,’ she answered. ‘Have you got my money?’

‘All of it, I promise. Let’s just get inside and I’ll give you it.’ He smiled again shyly. ‘It might look a bit obvious if I pay you out here, especially as I’m hoping everyone thinks Taj has finally got himself a pretty girl.’

They both laughed at the unlikely scenario. But he kept his word. The moment the doorway had swallowed them, he produced a small wad of
money.

‘I owed you forty but I’ve put five tens in there. It’s nice of you to agree to come to my home and that should buy you more than a hamburger.’

‘Taj, you’re sweet. For that you can fuck me without a condom,’ she said, turning towards the stairs. ‘Up?’

He nodded kindly. ‘Just one flight.’

She spoke over her shoulder as they ascended about how he, a stranger, was treating her better than her regular customers. Namzul said nothing but
wished she would stop praising him. He needed to do this terrible deed and he didn’t want any more guilt to be heaped upon his already weighted
shoulders. He pulled out his phone along with his key, and gave the key to her.

‘Let yourself in. I’ve just got to read this text,’ he lied.

As Aniela entered the flat, Namzul sent Schlimey a one word text:
OK
.

He’d turned on the heater in his flat earlier so the
place felt cosy, inviting.

‘Nice and toasty in here,’ she said, the colloquial expression made exotic by her accented pronunciation.

‘I hate to be cold,’ he admitted, pulling off his jacket, and easing her huge cardigan from her shoulders. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’ He did his best to control his rising anxiety. This felt so wrong.

‘What have you got?’ she said, running a finger across the top of his shoulder. She was taller than him and suddenly he was once again the puny, inconsequential man he worked so hard to banish.

‘I’ll surprise you, shall I?’ he answered. ‘Why don’t you make yourself comfy in the bedroom?’

She smiled. ‘I’ll undress,’ she said, raising an eyebrow sardonically. ‘Ten minutes are already up, Taj.’

‘I know,’ he said, lowering his gaze. ‘I won’t last long anyway,’ he admitted, not that he would ever experience Aniela’s body sexually. ‘I just like pretending we’re friends.’

‘We are,’ she said, blowing him a kiss and beginning to pull off her clothes. He caught sight of a lilac bra and far bigger breasts than he’d imagined. ‘I don’t drink alcohol during the day. Fresh milk would be nice if you have it,’ she called over her slim shoulder.

Milk. She sounded like a child. She
was
still a child.

His mobile beeped. Schlimey was outside.

Namzul took a deep breath.

‘Okay,’ he said, feigning a brightness he did not feel. ‘I’ll get it for you.’ He tiptoed to the door and opened it. ‘Wait,’ he mouthed silently, holding up a
finger.

Schlimey nodded, and handed him a syringe. He would hold off for another minute. Namzul was glad the Jew was not in his traditional garb. It made him too easy to recognise, especially with his red hair. The beanie and casual dark clothes did plenty to hide the man’s natural unattractiveness, but also made him fade into a crowd. Hopefully he had blended easily into the Brick Lane working community and looked like any other delivery man, supplying the many restaurants.

Namzul returned to the kitchenette and organised Aniela’s milk.

‘Do you want anything in it? Chocolate powder or something?’

She laughed. ‘Taj, time is ticking away.’

‘I know, I know. Here,’ he said, entering the tiny bedroom, the glass of milk in one hand, his other concealing the syringe.

‘I’ll drink it while you take your clothes off,’ she suggested. ‘You’ve got . . . ooh, about nineteen minutes,’ she added, glancing at the battered plastic watch that seemed far too big for her thin wrist.

And you’ve got about nineteen seconds
, he thought wretchedly.

He turned away modestly, pretending to undo his trousers, and felt, rather than saw, the arrival of Schlimey.

Aniela tried to scream but her mouth was full of milk. The red-headed man was upon her so fast it was already too late for the prostitute, who nearly choked as he clamped a pale hand across her mouth. Within another moment he had straddled her, pinning her down.

She struggled, but it was pointless. And as if it was happening in slow motion, Namzul turned to face the wide-eyed and understandably terrified girl.

‘I’m sorry, Aniela,’ he said, and meant it with all his heart.

‘Hurry up!’ Schlimey urged, his thick lips snarling at Namzul. ‘Stick her!’

Poor Aniela, Namzul thought. She probably feared this was some sort of gang rape, but it was so much worse. He pulled the syringe from behind his back and now she silently screamed behind the Jew’s hand with its freckles and wispy gingery hair. Against her beautiful skin it was an abomination, but then nothing about Schlimey was attractive.

Namzul removed the plastic casing on the needle.

‘In the vein,’ Schlimey ordered, wrenching Aniela’s forearm around.

‘I’ve never done —’

‘Just push it in where you see her vein and empty the contents.’

Aniela struggled bravely but her cries for help were so muffled that they barely reached beyond the four close walls of the bedroom. Namzul did as
Schlimey ordered and very quickly, almost immediately, she relaxed.

‘What was in here?’ Namzul asked, staring at the empty syringe.

‘Heroin,’ Schlimey replied, getting off her. ‘Now she’ll be happy to do anything you want. She won’t even remember how scared she was a moment ago. You’ve even got time to screw her, Bangla.’

He hated the way Schlimey looked down on him. He wished he had the courage and the strength to attack the sneering man, who no doubt dutifully went to synagogue every few days, but had a heart as dark as Namzul’s skin.

‘Just get her out of here!’ he spat.

‘Aren’t you going to help me, Bangla?’ Schlimey taunted.

‘You know I can’t be seen.’

Schlimey sneered. ‘You’re such a coward. It’s all in the perception. Act confident and no one thinks to question you.’ He hauled Aniela to her feet. She was extremely unsteady but she was conscious, smiling even.

‘You naughty boy, Taj,’ she slurred. She leaned forward and made an attempt to kiss him by puckering her mouth but instead she just smeared her lip-gloss down his cheek as she slid across him.