The Reckoning (13 page)

‘She must be some secretary.’

‘She’s got a double-barrelled surname and lives in Parsons Green. Reading between the lines, Eric sees her as his ticket to social acceptability. But that’s going to be a lot harder to achieve when he’s got a conviction for murder.’

‘Hold on. Why did Eric have to have his lover killed? I’d have thought Penny was the one who needed to be got out of the picture.’

‘Andrea was fed up because Eric was planning to marry Saskia, not her. Eric is considerably better off than Ray – Penny thinks that he was Andrea’s exit strategy from her marriage and a chance at a much more comfortable life. When he told her he was going to have to break it off with her, she threatened to tell Penny
and
Saskia about their relationship. And Eric had the sense to know Saskia was going to flip her lid, even though she’d been happy to help him to cheat on his wife for the past eighteen months. She’s not the sort to put up with infidelity, or so Penny says, and she’s made it her business to get to know Saskia. Keep your enemies close, and all that. There’s a big difference between being the mistress and being the one who’s betrayed.’

‘But Penny was happy to put up with it.’

‘She thought he’d come back to her eventually. And when she realised he wasn’t going to, she decided he wasn’t worth worrying about. No, Eric knew Penny wasn’t going to make any trouble. Because she’s been married to him for such a long time, she’s entitled to a huge amount of money if she opts for a reasonably amicable divorce settlement. Penny,’ Rob said, stirring the sauce, ‘is a pragmatist.’

‘So what happens now?’

‘Ray is going to court in the morning. The CPS are offering no evidence against him on the murder, and they’ve got to decide what to do about the jewellery theft. He didn’t get a chance to make the insurance claim, so he never actually got around to committing fraud, and since he stole it from himself …’ Rob shrugged. ‘I doubt anyone’s told him yet that he’s going to be a free man tomorrow, so that’ll be a nice surprise. Essex Police are picking up the two thugs, with any luck, and Liv and I are going after Eric.’

I felt a prickle of hostility at the mention of his pretty new colleague. ‘Should be easy enough. Penny’s handed it to you on a plate.’

‘There’s still a fair amount of legwork to be done checking facts, re-interviewing witnesses, and going over the evidence in the case again to make it incriminate Eric Quentin. It’s not exactly the fun bit of the job.’ He tested the spaghetti. ‘Not long now.’

‘It smells gorgeous.’ I slid off the counter. ‘I’ll go and lay the table.’

‘See if you can find a couple of plates in Cardboard City.’

There was a small table in the bay window with an upright chair on either side. I put out knives and forks and found a candle-stub in a holder on a windowsill, presumably left by a previous tenant. It looked like the ultimate in sophistication when I had put it in the middle of the table and lit it. Three matching ghost flames danced against the darkness of the window, reflected on the glass. I had decided not to risk lowering the ancient white cotton blinds that were rolled up above the window frame. One of them had fallen down the first time I’d tried, and replacing them was on my short list of things to do in the flat. Quite far up the list in fact, I thought, as Chris Swain jogged past slowly, staring in at me. He raised a hand as he went up the stairs that led to the front door and I gave a quick wave in return.

‘Who was that?’ Rob had come out of the kitchen carrying our glasses.

‘The guy who lives across the hall. He helped Dec and me with some of the boxes.’

‘Oh, right,’ Rob said, his face and voice blank, but I happened to know him quite well.

‘Come off it. You can’t be jealous.’

‘What gave you that idea?’ Before I could answer, he changed the subject. ‘Did you find plates? Or bowls. Bowls would be better.’

‘They might be in that one.’ I pointed. ‘Dec said it was heavy.’

Rob started moving boxes out of the way. I went to help, but he snapped, ‘I can manage.’

‘Don’t be shitty.’ I hunkered down beside him. ‘You obviously didn’t get a good look at him. He looks like a student – you know, beard and glasses.’

‘Oh, an intellectual.’

‘A nerd,’ I countered. ‘He doesn’t look as if he gets out much.’

‘Okay.’ He looked sideways at me. ‘I wasn’t jealous.’

‘Course not.’ I folded back the top of the box and lifted out a stack of plates. ‘Here we go. Straight from the 1970s to your table.’

Mum had given me the dinner set she had bought when she got married, blue-green glazed earthenware with a stylised pattern raised around the edge. I ran a finger over the pattern. ‘We should really be eating gammon with a slice of pineapple on top of it. And then sherry trifle to follow.’

‘Sorry. That’s not in my repertoire.’

We were almost nose to nose when I turned to smile at him and for a second I thought he was going to take the opportunity to kiss me. I waited, not moving. Instead, abruptly, he stood up. ‘I’ll sort out the food.’

I knew my face was burning red as I went and took refuge in my wine glass. By the time he came back, I had recovered what passed for composure. ‘This looks great. Thanks for cooking.’

‘Any time.’ He pulled out his chair and looked at the magazine that was lying on the seat. I’d forgotten to move it. ‘What’s this? “Twenty Ways to Please Your Man Tonight”. Looking for tips?’

I leaned over and retrieved it, back to crimson again. ‘Absolutely not. It was the article about unreported rape that interested me.’

‘Oh, I’m sure. “Your Happiness Plan”,’ Rob read as I put the magazine on the floor. ‘“How to Get What You Want. What Your Style Says About You.” Do women actually believe that crap?’

‘Some do. Not me.’ I picked up my fork and dug in. ‘What do you think of Liv?’

He looked up, his eyes very blue in the candlelight. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just what I said.’

‘She’s all right. Bit quiet.’

‘She’s very pretty.’

‘I hadn’t noticed.’ I raised my eyebrows sceptically. ‘She’s okay. But you know I only have eyes for you.’

‘Hmm.’ However severe I tried to look, I couldn’t hide the fact that I was pleased. ‘Is she any good? She hasn’t got much experience, from what I’ve heard.’

‘She was Special Branch – before it got eaten by the Anti-Terrorist Branch.’ The high-ups had decided to merge the two and create one Counter-Terrorism Command. Special Branch had come off worse, shedding support staff and officers.

‘If she was worth having around, they’d have wanted to keep her. How come she didn’t want to stay?’

‘You’re not that naive. Special Branch was dead. I wouldn’t have wanted to stick around to see who made it into the new command and who got dumped. Besides, Liv said it was a good opportunity to work in a different role – she’d got too comfortable and it was time for a change. She seems fairly switched on, if you ask me. And Godley wouldn’t have recruited her just because she’s pretty.’

I nodded, concentrating very hard on winding spaghetti around my fork.

‘Wish you were working with me on the Tancredi case instead of her?’

‘No.’ I drank the last of the wine in my glass in one long swallow, then admitted, ‘Okay, a little.’

He shook his head. ‘I’ve got a nasty little domestic that’s gone wrong once. You’ve got a far bigger case to handle. A potential serial killer.’

‘Yeah, and look how well the last one worked out for me.’

‘You’re not exactly to this killer’s tastes from what I’ve heard. You should be okay. Besides, I don’t have to worry about you this time. You’ve got DI Derwent to protect you.’

I rolled my eyes.

‘That bad?’

I spent the rest of the meal giving Rob a rundown on Derwent’s behaviour during the day. It didn’t work out quite as I’d hoped. Instead of leaping to my defence, he shrugged dismissively.

‘You can’t let him get to you. Not if he’s that sort of person anyway.’

‘He scared me.’ It sounded ridiculous when I said it out loud.

‘How?’ Rob had been playing with his knife, but now his fingers stilled.

‘He waited for me, on the stairs. He wanted to tell me off for surprising him in our meeting with Godley.’

‘He’s a control freak. You said as much.’

‘I know.’

‘What did he actually do that scared you?’

I frowned, trying to remember. ‘I came through the doors and he grabbed me, as if he wanted to start off by intimidating me physically. Then he shouted at me for going behind his back. Then he told me he liked me for not backing down.’

‘Sounds as if you’re well on the way to winning him over.’

‘I doubt that.’ I sighed. ‘I just don’t get him. I don’t have a clue what he’s thinking or what he’s going to do next. I think he’s capable of pretty much anything. And he’s impossible to work with.’

‘No. He’s not. He’s awkward and belligerent, but you’re used to dealing with difficult people. Godley basically told you what to expect and how to handle him. It’s up to you to deal with it.’ He nodded to the magazine on the floor. ‘Better read the article on how to get what you want and see if you can pick up any tips on diplomacy.’

‘I’ve been doing much better with that lately. Hardly anyone has complained about me.’ I glared at him. ‘I can’t believe you’re not on my side.’

‘To the death, my darling, but there’s nothing you can do about this one. You’re just going to have to get on with it and make the most of working on this case. This is your thing, isn’t it? High-profile cases?’

‘I don’t seek them out.’ In spite of myself, I shivered. ‘It’s not a good one, Rob. Those men – they were tortured. Horribly, mercilessly, for hours. I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done, you shouldn’t have to die like that.’

‘Don’t think about how they died. Think about why.’

It was easier said than done. I poured some more wine into his glass. ‘You deserve a drink after that meal. Where did you learn to cook?’

He leaned back. ‘You can’t be that impressed by spag bol.’

‘Seriously. I couldn’t do that.’

‘You couldn’t be bothered to do it. That’s different.’ He stretched. ‘I don’t know, really. I used to watch my parents cooking. They’re quite into food, so that helps.’

‘My dad can boil eggs. That’s it. And Mum specialises in chops, fry-ups and stews.’

‘Good plain food.’

‘The most experimental they get is fish and chips on a Friday.’ I shook my head. ‘I’ve never seen the point in cooking. All that work and it just disappears, if you’ve done it well. You just get left with the washing-up.’

‘Yeah, I’ve been meaning to say, I’m not doing the washing-up as well as cooking.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. But not straightaway.’

His jaw tightened. ‘It’s not going to get any better if you leave it.’

‘You can’t stand it, can you?’ I leaned across the table. ‘The saucepan is in there, drying out even as we sit here. The food’s just caked on. By the time I get around to washing it, I’ll never be able to scrape it off. I’ll probably end up throwing it out.’

‘I know what you’re doing and I’m not going to fall for it.’

‘Damn,’ I said softly and laughed. ‘You know me too well.’

‘I sometimes think I don’t know you at all.’

I stared at him, wrong-footed by the change of mood, and was ridiculously relieved when he started to talk about cooking again, a nice safe subject for both of us. I stopped listening properly after a while and just watched him as I sipped my wine, noticing little things – the way the skin around his eyes creased when he smiled, the shape of his mouth, his beautiful hands …

There is a limit to how much anyone can say about food, no matter how enthusiastic they may be. When Rob stopped talking, I picked up my glass and stood up.

‘Let’s move to the sofa.’

He carried the wine bottle over as well as his glass. ‘Have some more?’

‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

‘No. I don’t need to.’

‘Confident, aren’t you?’

‘Reasonably.’ He put the bottle down beside the sofa. ‘If I shouldn’t be, I’ll leave.’

‘Don’t leave.’ I didn’t even think before I said it. When it came down to it, I didn’t want him to go. But whatever I’d been expecting would happen next, didn’t. Rob changed the subject.

‘Who else lives here, apart from weedy Chris and the delectable nanny?’

‘Upstairs, opposite Szuszanna and above Chris, is Walter Green, otherwise known as my landlord. He has five properties in this street, apparently.’

‘He must be loaded. What’s he doing living in a one-bedroom flat?’

I shrugged. ‘He lives on his own. Bit of an oddball, I think. I doubt he needs a lot of space.’ I had met him briefly before signing my lease, and might have found him unsettling if I hadn’t been used to talking to strange people at work. He had frizzy greying hair, a bulbous nose and long white hands that hung down at his side limply, as if weighted. I had found myself staring at them, fascinated, and had to force myself to focus on his face instead, although I needn’t have bothered. Walter was not big on eye contact. I was willing to bet he had lived with his mother until she died, and it was, he had confessed, family money that had paid for the houses – he was the last of his line, a genetic dead end. ‘Walter is all right. I don’t think he’s too strict, as landlords go. But I don’t think maintenance is high on his list of priorities.’

‘Well, it isn’t for you either, so that’s all right.’ I could tell the mild dinginess of the flat was bothering Rob. I had caught him fiddling with the broken blind already. His own flat wasn’t extraordinarily neat, but it was organised, and everything
worked
. One up to him, I thought, sipping my wine and not caring in the least.

‘Top floor is an actor – Brody Lee.’

‘Is he famous? Would I recognise him?’

‘You might. I’d never heard of him and I haven’t met him yet so I can’t tell you. According to Walter, Brody is filming a kids’ series based on
Gawain and the Green Knight
somewhere in Eastern Europe, so he’s not around much.’

‘Is that everyone?’

‘That’s your lot.’

‘Do they know what you do for a living?’