Kaleidoscope (7 page)
Lewis frowned and turned to look out of the large window by the front entrance of the bar.
"You know, whenever there is something on the news about people who were the friends or family of a murderer..." he said turning back to Kelly. "...they all seem to say that they couldn't believe that person was capable of murder; they say that they just didn't seem like the type."
"I know, I know. It's just... it's difficult to get over the fact that we were living next to somebody for so long who
was
capable of that. I know he did it, the police found his blood under Hannah's nails for Christ sake. I just still can't believe it.
Lewis looked at her as she stared down into her drink. She brushed some of her blonde hair away from her face and Lewis thought he could see her eyes beginning to fill. Kelly had never seemed like the type of person to voice that kind of concern without good cause. But at the same time she didn't seem to have anything specific to say as to why it couldn't have been the man the police suspected.
"How did the police first come to suspect him?" Lewis asked, cutting through the silence.
"It was ridiculous really. They questioned our neighbours and when Craig came to the door, he had a huge cut on his neck which had obviously been made by finger nails. It was a joke how quickly they arrested him. They tested his DNA and it matched the blood under Hannah's nails. I suppose when I think about that, it seems stupid to question that it could be anyone but him really."
"What was Hannah's boyfriend like?" Lewis asked, his mind unable to release the thought of the e-mail.
"I have no idea, I never met him. She would always go over to his place or meet him for dinner and drinks. She was besotted with him at first though, I can tell you that much." She looked at Lewis, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Jealous?" she asked with an attempt at a smile.
Lewis leaned back in surprise. "No, of course not... what do you mean?"
"Come on Lewis, I know how you felt about Hannah. I'd have had to be blind not to see how you looked at her."
"I... don't know what you mean, we were friends."
"Okay," Kelly said, releasing the smile. "Hannah seemed to be a little secretive about him to be honest. I don't know what it was; she would talk about him all the time, especially at the beginning, but there would never be anything specific. It would just be comments about how nice he was to her. A few days before she died, she seemed to stop mentioning his name altogether... actually she seemed really depressed and quiet those last couple of days. I thought that perhaps it was work, I know she had a lot on and felt it was getting on top of her."
"What was her boyfriend's name?"
"Joe, I don't know his surname." Kelly eyed Lewis suspiciously again. "Why do you keep asking about him?"
Lewis took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's just... I don't know maybe I'm the one being silly now, but Hannah sent me an e-mail a couple of days before she was killed. I re-read it yesterday and it seemed a little strange."
"How so?" Kelly asked, leaning closer.
"She mentioned her boyfriend and said that she had found something horrible on his laptop. She said she was in a bit of a dilemma and didn't know what to do."
Kelly frowned as she thought for a few seconds, twisting her now empty glass between her fingers.
"Two days before she was killed?" she asked and Lewis nodded slowly. "She said something to me about that I think. I was only half listening. I was getting ready to go out and she came into my room and started asking me all these strange questions."
"What questions?" Lewis asked, this time it was his turn to lean closer.
"I can't really remember, like I said, I was only half listening. But it was something a little convoluted, something like, 'what would I do if I found out something bad about someone I loved?' I can't even remember what my reply was; I just sort of brushed off the question. She seemed really odd, now I think about it. I thought she was just bored and came in to see me to pass some time before I went out. I wish I'd listened properly now; from what you've just said about the e-mail, it sounds like she needed to talk to someone."
"I wish we knew who this Joe was." Lewis said. "I just can't stop thinking about that e-mail - I wish I could."
Kelly reached out and touched his hand. "I know this must be terrible for you Lewis. It's terrible for me, but you and Hannah... well you were much closer than she and I were."
Lewis looked at her and smiled weakly. "It's the worst thing that has ever happened to me."
Kelly squeezed his hand, "Sometimes it's just difficult to let it go. They have the man that did it and he's going to be punished for what he's done. That's not much of a comfort for us now, but that's what we need to think about. All our silly theories are just that; silly theories. The proof is there."
Lewis drained the Coke from his glass and nodded as he stared at Kelly.
"You're right, I know you're right. It's just so difficult." He glanced at his watch, "I have to go," he said, standing. "Thanks for the chat Kelly, I think it's helped. I'll see you at the funeral next week, okay?"
"Yes, I'll see you then."
Lewis walked out of the bar and down the street, wishing he could be certain that the right man was going to be punished. But if he was truthful with himself, a subtle but persistent doubt nagged the back of his mind. He couldn't be sure what prevented that certainty, but knew that something didn't feel right.
Chapter 7
The car stopped at the front of the building and Hellam and Langton walked down the steps slowly before getting into the limousine.
"Here are your notes for the meeting," Langton said, handing Hellam several sheets of paper in a small, plastic folder.
"Thank you," He flicked through the papers. "How are Kelser and Richards getting on?"
"They're going to sort out the Deacon problem today. Kelser is confident it will all be rectified by the end of the day."
"Excellent news," Hellam said with a smile, but didn
’
t look up from his notes.
"There is one thing that does need addressing though Mr Hellam."
Hellam stopped scanning the document and closed the folder as he turned to Langton. "What is it?"
Langton glanced at the driver, before leaning in closer and whispering. "Miller has been in contact with me. He
’
s managed to find out some information from undercover operations. He said it wasn't easy and he isn't certain of the facts yet, but it appears that Richards might be a problem."
Hellam frowned. "A cop?" he whispered, his voice low and cold.
Langton nodded, "Possibly, I'm getting Miller to double check the details, but he says that it may take a couple of days before he'll get an opportunity to do so." Langton watched his boss's eyes narrow as he became lost in thought for a moment, then spoke quietly. "Do you want me to organise something for Richards?"
"No," Hellam replied softly as he gazed out of the window. "I'll take care of it, don't worry about it."
Hellam became silent for a few moments as he turned away from Langton and watched the streets move past his window. Langton glanced down at the hand clutching the plastic folder and noticed Hellam was gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The car remained silent for the rest of the journey, Langton not daring to utter another word, sensing the anger emanating from the man sitting beside him. Eventually they came to rest outside a building and Hellam stepped out. Before closing the door, he turned to Langton.
"Tell Kelser to meet with us tomorrow morning. I want him to deal with this Richards situation."
"Kelser? Yes sir," Langton replied and watched as Hellam slammed the door shut then went into the building for his meeting. Langton turned to the driver. "Take me to Luciano's, I'd like to get some lunch."
***
Langton asked for a table for one as he entered the restaurant and was shown to a seat by the window. He ordered a glass of water and his usual Italian vegetable salad. The restaurant was quiet, as it usually was during the week, but Langton enjoyed the peace on these occasions; it wasn't very often he managed to eat a proper lunch, but when he did, he would always come to Luciano's.
He thought about Richards for a moment and the inevitable fate that awaited the man. Langton liked Richards; he seemed to be a hard worker and didn't cause him any trouble. Now he understood why.
Richards had been recommended to them by an associate of Hellam's who had seemed trustworthy. It now appeared that the associate in question would be in almost as much danger as Richards himself. Langton felt glad that Hellam's anger wasn't directed towards him.
It was this train of thought that reminded him of the item that was in his pocket; something that had never really been forgotten since it arrived through the door that morning. The post had come early and Langton felt sure that his heart stopped for a few seconds when he saw the small, white envelope resting by the front door. The handwritten address on the front confirmed that it was another letter from Concerned Citizen.
Langton reached into his pocket as he sat in Luciano's and slowly pulled out the unopened letter. He placed it on the table in front of him and stared at it for a moment. C.C. was obviously becoming impatient; he had only received the previous letter two days earlier, how could Langton be expected to have made copies of the documents and dispatched them in such a short time? He tore open the envelope and pulled the letter out:
Hello George,
I've been watching you over the weekend and you don't seem to have made much progress in getting me the documents I require. I'm sorry to be so impatient with regards to this matter, but I require them with the utmost urgency. Get them to me within the next two days
CC (Concerned Citizen).
P.S. Your secret is still safe with me.
Langton bit his lip hard as he folded the letter and placed it back into his pocket. He was watching him now? It was an impossible situation and he felt panic suddenly rise inside. He sipped his water with a trembling hand and tried to calm himself.
After discovering Richards was an undercover police officer and knowing what Hellam was capable of, Langton was quite sure that Richards wouldn't be around for much longer. As he thought about the documents he had copied for his blackmailer over the years, he became more agitated. If Hellam ever found out about his betrayal, he felt sure that he would find himself in a similar position to the one that awaited Richards. But he had no choice; if his secret came out then he would be as good as dead anyway - he had long since convinced himself of that - at least this way he stood a fighting chance.
The waiter brought over his food, but Langton had lost his appetite. He picked at the salad with his fork for twenty minutes before asking for the bill and leaving. He got the car back to his office and sat at his desk in silence.
He thought about what had happened all those years before. How could C.C. have found out about his past? No one knew, absolutely no one except... his mind suddenly rebelled against him and spontaneously conjured up the face that belonged to the small, lifeless body as it rested, motionless, in his arms. The face, the eyes especially, drawing on his attention with a gravity akin to a black hole. It was an image he had spent almost twenty years trying to erase.
"It was an accident..." he said out loud, then paused and glanced up at his open doorway. No one had heard him, but he forced himself to remove the image of the little girl from his mind; it wasn't wise to dwell on such things. He diverted his thoughts back to the letter and the documents he had already decided to copy.
***
Richards knocked loudly on the door to the flat and glanced at Kelser standing beside him. He turned back as he heard steps approaching the door from the other side. The door opened by a crack and a single eye peered through the small gap.
"Shit," Richards heard the man on the other side say as he went to slam the door shut. But Richards pushed his foot forward and blocked it from closing then pushed hard, knocking the man backwards. Both he and Kelser stepped inside and shut the door behind them.
"You're an elusive man Deacon," Richards said, moving towards him.
Deacon retreated back into the flat, his eyes wide as they darted between the two men.
"I don't know what that bastard Travis told you but I don't have that money." he said, still moving backwards until his spine finally hit the wall behind him. "He's been trying to stitch me up with that shit for a while now."
"We
know
you have that money; there really isn't any point in denying it. You know what this man is capable of." Richards nodded in Kelser's direction, who walked over to the window and slid the small, worn curtain closed. The room was bathed in semi-darkness. "Tell us where the money is and we'll leave you alone."
Deacon watched as Kelser moved slowly around the room, circling like a vulture and gazing at him with unsettling intensity. Kelser raised a hand and scratched his cheek, just below the thick scar that arched around his face.
"I don't have the money; I don't know where it is." Deacon said in a low whisper, not daring to take his eyes from Kelser.
Richards shook his head slowly and went over to the other side of the room where he picked up a small wooden stool. He placed the stool in the centre of the room and glanced at his companion. Kelser pulled out a gun and pointed it at Deacon.
"No, please God no," Deacon said, instinctively raising his hands and closing his eyes tight.
"Sit down," Kelser sneered, nodding in the direction of the chair.
Shaking, Deacon moved over to the stool and sat down, the wood creaking as it bore his weight. His eyes were fixed on Kelser as Richards walked around and grabbed his arms then used cable ties to secure them behind his back.
"Please, you don't need to do this," Deacon pleaded.
Kelser put his gun away and approached the terrified man. He stood before him for a moment, staring down without the slightest hint of emotion on his face. Deacon felt fear wash through him as he gazed up into Kelser's eyes; there was nothing behind them, just a void.
Suddenly Kelser moved behind him and Deacon felt him grab one of his fingers. Before he had time to scream, he felt Kelser grip hard and pull it backwards. He heard a crack before an intense pain radiated through his hand and up his arm.
"Aarrgh!" The guttural cry left Deacons mouth involuntarily.
"Where is the money?" Kelser asked quietly as he moved around the front again.
Richards stepped forward and leaned closer to Deacon, whose face contorted with pain. "Tell us where the money is and we leave, it's as simple as that," he said.
"I don't have the money." Deacon looked up as sweat and tears fell down his face.
Kelser stepped forward and swung a fist into Deacon's face.
***
Kelser washed his hands in the bathroom as he gazed into the mirror, his own vacant expression staring back at him. Deacon's blood was diluted with the running water and flowed down the sink. It had taken almost thirty minutes before Deacon broke. He had sustained a broken nose, three broken fingers and a heavily bruised torso before finally relenting. Kelser thought it was amazing how much pain some people could endure in the hope of wealth. Deacon had begged them to stop and eventually told them that he had placed the money in a safe-deposit box. He gave them the bank's location and the pass code for the box as blood fell from his crooked nose. Kelser had even allowed the hint of a smile creep onto his face when Deacon finally gave up his secret.
He dried his hands on a towel then went to leave the bathroom and return to Richards in the front room. As he stepped close to the door he heard the sound of low whispering from the other side and leaned forward. He could hear Richards saying something to Deacon, who was still sitting on the small wooden stool. The sound wasn't clear but Kelser managed to make out several words.
"...police... testify... Hellam... protection."
Kelser stood by the door for a few seconds as these words sunk in and he thought about their significance. Richards would have no reason to whisper in such a way when Kelser left the room unless these words were specifically not for his ears.
'Police... testify.'
The realisation hit hard and Kelser felt his jaw tighten. Richards was a cop. But how could this be? He had been recommended to Hellam by a trusted source. Kelser thought for a moment and tried to comprehend the situation but quickly shrugged it off. There was no point in asking questions of 'why', the fact was that Richards was an undercover police officer and he appeared to be trying to coerce Deacon into testifying against Hellam. That could be the only reason for this conspiratorial whispering.
He gathered himself and tried to relax. He wasn't sure how he would play this yet, but decided to not use the information straight away. He needed time to think. After moving the towel rail loudly and making several hard footsteps, he opened the door and returned to the front room. He noticed the sudden movement from both men as he entered but acted as if he wasn't paying attention.
"You ready?" Kelser asked, gesturing towards the door.
Richards nodded then went round behind Deacon and cut the cable ties from his wrists. Deacon arched his spine backwards as if to stretch through the pain in his body. He put a hand to his nose and wiped some of the blood away as the two men left.
