Killing You Softly (17 page)

That’s the point, I thought, hearing footsteps approaching down the corridor. This doesn’t feel normal to me – it feels crazy. And Ripley already knows that if I can tell them
anything useful it won’t be about Russian thugs intent on getting to Anatoly Radkin through his daughter – it will be about the psychopath who’s leaving me messages on stolen
mobile phones.

The footsteps stopped outside Saint Sam’s office and, after a brief conversation, the door opened and a slender blonde woman appeared.

‘Salomea!’ Raisa sprang up from her seat, letting a bundle of used tissues fall from her lap.

Galina’s stepmother was ballerina-slender and small-boned with amazing cheekbones and hair swept up into a dancer’s ponytail. She was wearing a large, copper-coloured pashmina over a
black jacket and trousers, with high black ankle boots and a bag that cost at least twice as much as the ones advertised on Galina’s website.

I’d been expecting distance and elegance, coolness and grace, so I was surprised when this birdlike woman rushed over to hug Raisa. She soothed her in Russian and sat her down on her
chair.

‘We will find her,’ she promised in English in order to include Molly and me as well as Galina’s weeping maid.

‘That’s what I’ve been telling her,’ Molly agreed. She waited while Salomea bent over Raisa and spoke rapidly, then she suggested more cups of tea.

‘No tea, thank you.’ Salomea drew up a chair next to Raisa. ‘Anatoly knows what has happened,’ she explained. ‘He will be here as soon as he can. And you know,
Raisa, he solves all problems.’

Raisa nodded through her tears.

‘I came as quickly as I could,’ Salomea told us. ‘Anatoly wanted me to be here to answer questions – to do anything I can to help.’

All this was unexpected, I admit. I had Salomea down as wicked stepmother asking the mirror who was the fairest of them all and spitefully packing Galina off to a remote Cotswold location in
case the mirror came back with the wrong answer. ‘You, O Queen, are fair, but Galina is fairer still.’ Instead, what I saw was an animated, caring woman who seemed genuinely distressed
over her stepdaughter’s disappearance.

‘Mikhail is to blame,’ she decided as she stood up and paced the room. ‘It was his job to stop something like this from happening. And yes, Galina didn’t like having him
and Sergei around all the time, but it was for her own safety.’

‘Actually, it didn’t turn out that way,’ I reminded her. ‘The truth is Galina swore that Mikhail attacked her a few days ago.’ Speaking for the first time since
Salomea came into the office, my voice sounded flat and ordinary amidst the torrent of emotion-driven opinion pouring from Salomea’s lips.

‘No!’ she protested. ‘That was a story Galina made up.’

‘Really? You don’t believe he punched her and cut her lip?’

‘Mikhail denied it. He said she tripped and fell.’

‘Do you believe that?’ I asked Raisa, who shrugged then came down on Mikhail’s side.

‘So it comes down to whose version you trust,’ I said, digging in my heels and refusing to budge.

It was Salomea who had to back down. ‘I’m sorry now that I didn’t pay more attention. I said it couldn’t be true – Mikhail knows how much power Anatoly has. His
influence is very great. Mikhail would never dare.’

‘I believed Galina’s version, not his,’ I insisted quietly.

And right there and then, Sergei’s conversation on the phone flew into my mind.

I’m walking into the quad with Will, my multilingual suspect. Not that he knows that I’m suspicious about the bruise under his eye or the grudge he might still hold against
Scarlett.

We pass lean and hungry Sergei, talking on the phone. I pick up the names Galina and Salomea amongst the flow of rapid Russian.

Will, my translator, tells me that Sergei is telling Salomea that things didn’t work out, he wasn’t happy.

I stare at Sergei, wishing that I could understand the nuances, reading his expression as part scared, part angry, as if offering excuses to his employer that he feared wouldn’t be
acceptable. His eyes flick towards me and Will as we pass by, but we’re of no interest. He turns his back.

My memory shunts sideways to another event.

I see Sergei’s back view again. It’s a little earlier in the week. When would that be? Oh yes, on the platform at Ainslee Westgate. I’m standing under the station clock,
waiting for Jack to step off the Paddington train. He’s not going to arrive. He’s missed the train. My lovelorn heart aches.

So I hardly notice Sergei rush by. I see him from behind, fighting his way against the flow of passengers alighting from the Paddington train. He reaches the ticket barrier and waves to
attract the attention of a slim, fair-haired woman. She comes through the barrier. They embrace passionately and disappear into Costa together.

I see the woman again, as clear as day, dressed in a black, full length coat and high black ankle boots. High black ankle boots. She’s slender with a dancer’s grace. She’s
in Saint Sam’s room now, wearing the same boots, looking straight at me.

I didn’t have time to recover from the shock of this before Ripley and Saint Sam came into the room.

Ripley introduced herself then brought Salomea up to date with police progress. ‘We have CCTV footage of Galina leaving the school by the main gate at 9.30 p.m. She’s in uniform,
alone and on foot and she’s not carrying a bag, which suggests she didn’t intend to go far.’

‘Did she actually make it to her planned meeting?’ I wanted to know.

‘We can’t be sure. We certainly didn’t get it on camera. As I say, she was wearing her uniform with a big ski jacket over the top. We can see her feeling in her pockets for
something.’

‘Probably her phone.’

‘Yes. She pulled out the charger cable, but that was all. Then she glanced at her watch a couple of times. After the second time, she broke into a run, so that does suggest she was late
for a pre-arranged meeting. But then, as soon as she’s clear of the school grounds, we lose track of her movements.’

‘And Mikhail – he was on duty last night. Have you spoken to him?’

Ripley shook her head. ‘So far we haven’t been able to trace either him or Sergei. I’ve got people working on it and we’ll let you know as soon as we catch up with
them.’

I looked keenly at Salomea to see how she reacted to the mention of Sergei’s name. A small frown creased her smooth brow before she turned her attention back to Raisa while I tried to
catch Ripley’s eye, which I finally did.

‘Was there something else you wanted to talk me about?’ I asked.

‘Yes, Alyssa. Shall we go through to Molly’s office?’

I followed her and closed the door behind us.

‘First off,’ Ripley began, sitting me down at the glass-topped desk and perching on it herself, arms folded and legs outstretched. ‘Tell me how you slept.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘You want my advice? Pace yourself. Step back a little. Don’t think that you’re the only one with the answers.’

‘Sorry – do I do that?’

‘That’s how it looks to me.’

‘And I’m getting in your way – is that what you’re saying?’

‘No, don’t be so touchy. Just take it easy, otherwise you’ll crash and burn. Sorry – I’ll step out of mummy mode and stop talking about you getting a good
night’s sleep, blah blah.’

‘That’s OK,’ I told her. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘Anyway, since we spoke last night, I’ve listened several times to the message and I agree with you – the threat is definitely increasing.’

‘That is so not good news,’ I groaned.

‘I agree. This isn’t the usual cyber bullying – “You’re dead if you steal my boyfriend/girlfriend”, plus personal insults and laughing at you because
you’re fat or you’re Billy No-mates. That kind of stuff.’

‘No – this is definitely different.’

‘So we’re trying to unscramble the voice and let experts look at it. Meanwhile, we have to investigate all the guys here at St Jude’s. I mean
all
of them.’

I paused to think this through.

I hear fingers scratching at the window pane, I run my hand over a feathered corpse, I hear a voice telling me he loves me, killing me softly.

Ripley spoke over my mental action replays. ‘You know that it takes a seriously warped personality to play this kind of mind game, setting challenges and, if we’re right, acting out
one murder and planning a second and possibly even a third. So tell me, does anyone in your group of friends spring to mind?’

‘No, everyone I know seems too normal.’

‘Seems?’ she echoed.

‘Yes, and that applies to kids at Ainslee Comp as well, like Alex Driffield for instance, who is a genuinely nice kid.’

‘Anyone else we should exclude or, more importantly, include?’

‘I’ve thought maybe it could be Will Harrison – that’s a possibility. But it’s a hunch based on two small facts.’

‘Namely?’

‘That he came back to school with a black eye and that he and Scarlett were once an item. Honestly, I jump from person to person – other old boyfriends of Scarlett’s, someone
in the shadows who I don’t even know about.’

Ripley lifted a hand to slow me down. ‘OK, those are the people we might line up for Scarlett’s murder. But now switch to Galina. Who do you have in mind in that
situation?’

I took a deep breath then began again. ‘It could be Mikhail because – well, because.’

‘He looks the part?’ Ripley prompted. ‘And because he tried to kidnap her – allegedly.’

Yes, but stalker guy said to forget the Russian mafia – it’ll take us down the wrong track.’

‘And we believe him?’ She was dubious.

‘In some twisted way, yes I think he’s telling the truth. But then I’m not certain – it could be a double-bluff. Suddenly I’m thinking it might not be Mikhail but
it could be Sergei.’

‘Why the shift of focus?’

‘Because it turns out that he and Salomea are lovers.’

‘Stop!’ Ripley made it clear she couldn’t keep up. ‘How come you didn’t mention this earlier?’

‘I ran through a few things when I first met Salomea, back there in Dr Webb’s office. I tried to remember where I’d seen her before and it came to me – it was at Ainslee
Westgate, with Sergei. They met and kissed, and not just friends kissing, unless that’s the Russian way of greeting. Anyway, you should ask her.’

‘I will,’ June agreed. ‘Thanks, Alyssa.’

‘Think about it, though. Say Salomea has a relationship with Sergei behind Anatoly Radkin’s back. Anatoly most likely gives him and Mikhail the job of protecting his daughter on her
suggestion without properly vetting either of them. And it’s possible they do have connections with less scrupulous elements inside the Russian government. I don’t know – my head
is in such a mess.’

‘Salomea as well as the two guys?’ Ripley cut in.

‘Yes. That would be really bad news for Galina’s dad, wouldn’t it? He’s married a woman who secretly works for a government who wants him dead and meanwhile she’s
having an affair with the bodyguard and together they arrange to kidnap Galina.’

‘However hard I try, I can’t see any way that this would link up with your stalker or with Scarlett’s murder,’ Ripley decided. ‘But I will check out the
relationship between Salomea and Sergei – that in itself shouldn’t be too difficult. And I can see it might throw up interesting new angles on Galina’s disappearance.’

‘Cool,’ I murmured.

‘Like I said, you do look tired, Alyssa, and we should probably finish now.’ She paused before rounding off the conversation. ‘Just give me a few more moments to think aloud
here. For a start, Scarlett died on New Year’s Day, which I take it was before Galina and her bodyguards arrived at St Jude’s?’

‘Yes, they got here just two days before the start of term.’

‘And Scarlett’s killer would have had to have been around before that. OK, good. And thank you. We really will wrap things up now.’

She walked purposefully towards the door but I stopped her before she made her exit. ‘At least we know that Alex isn’t involved,’ I reminded her.

‘I’m saying what’s wrong, what’s wrong? And my dad is in the hallway behind me, dragging me back and telling the cops that I was only a kid and they couldn’t
throw their weight around like this and why the hell were they asking all these questions? And then they said they were sorry to inform us that Scarlett was dead and it was like I walked off the
edge of a cliff and just fell and kept on falling.’

I see Alex’s pale, stricken face streaked with tears and mud. I cannot believe that he’s guilty.

‘This has all been happening since you arrested him, so he can’t possibly be the killer.’

With one hand on the door handle, Ripley gave a tiny shake of her head. ‘It’s too soon to draw conclusions,’ she said.

Connie was with Jack when I went back to the technology centre to find him. She’d commandeered his attention as only she can and switched him from his training video to
her social networking.

I was feeling exhausted after my session with Ripley and not ready for Facebooking or Tweeting. I almost turned back but Jack spotted me and used me to scramble free of Connie’s web.

‘She’s showing me an app on her phone,’ he explained. ‘It makes short videos which you can post on to Twitter.’

‘It means you can share a video version of any big moment in your life,’ Connie enthused, aiming her phone at me. ‘Births, marriages, deaths – you open up your app, point
your phone and shoot.’

‘Don’t film me,’ I protested.

‘Chill, Alyssa. Look – you press your screen to start filming and lift it to stop. Press again then lift, and so on. Then you post it on to your feed. And voila!’

‘OK, that’s cool, Connie.’

‘Say it again – this time like you mean it.’

‘I do – I mean it. Digital technology is amazing. But I don’t tweet so it’s not for me.’

‘Don’t tweet?’ she echoed with a shocked look.

Seeing me wilt under pressure from Connie, Jack stepped in. ‘Actually, why don’t you post the video of Alyssa on to my phone?’

‘No way – I look a wreck!’ I wailed.