Murder Ring (A DI Geraldine Steel Mystery) (32 page)

Her bout of crying over, she went to the kitchen and returned with the wine. She knew she ought to eat something before finishing the bottle, but this was not the time for being sensible. She wanted to get so pissed she would care only about her hangover in the morning, and not even think about her mother. Or her sister, Helena. Putting her feet up on the sofa, she poured herself another glass of wine. Thinking about the letter, she started to feel angry. It was true her mother was dead, and she would never have the chance to try to build any sort of relationship with her. That was sad, but it was her mother’s fault. While she had been alive, Milly had refused to have any contact with her. Now it seemed she had only written to her out of concern for her other daughter, Helena. Her letter was not a genuine apology at all but an attempt to persuade Geraldine to take responsibility for the sister she had never known about, the sister Milly had been unable to part with.

No longer sure she could forgive her mother, Geraldine stood up and was surprised to find herself a little shaky on her feet. She hadn’t had that much to drink. Going into the kitchen, she popped some frozen bread in the toaster and took a packet of cheese from the fridge. Tea and toast shouldn’t be beyond her in her sozzled state, and it would soak up the alcohol. Tomorrow she needed to get back to the job that had scared her mother away. At least that had never let her down. As for Helena, Geraldine didn’t even know if she
was
her sister. Thinking about the way her mother had treated her, she could not see why she should care. She had lived all her life so far in ignorance that she had a biological sister. Only now it would be Geraldine’s decision if she turned her back on her sister. Knowing changed everything.

She carried her mug and plate back into the living room on a tray. Catching sight of the letter and photograph lying on the table, she trembled. Miserably, she munched her toast, telling herself she was just tired, hungry and tipsy. All she needed was a good night’s sleep and she would be fine. She touched the signature where Milly had written her name, followed by the word ‘mum’, as though Geraldine might not realise who she was. Knowing she could never reply to her mother’s letter, she broke down in tears at the finality of that silence.

61

G
ROGGY FROM TOO
much wine and too much sleep, it took Geraldine a moment to come to. Then, in a rush, she remembered her mother’s death, and the letter that suggested she had a twin sister. The lifestyles of twins who were brought up apart were supposed to be uncannily similar, but from Milly’s letter it seemed that Geraldine and Helena were very different. Geraldine had worked hard to become a successful professional woman, owning her own flat in a relatively expensive area of London. Her twin sounded dysfunctional. Drugs and crime might play a part in her life. Geraldine didn’t intend to rush blindly into a relationship with a stranger who might turn out to be a parasite ready to fleece her. If what Milly had written was true, Helena’s life might demonstrate what Geraldine would have been like if she had been brought up by her birth mother. She thought about it as she lay in bed. There was nothing to stop her tracing her sister and observing her from a distance; a stalker driven by benign curiosity. She would help Helena if she could.

She had put her mother’s letter and photograph away in her bedside cabinet. With the help of another photograph, Jack’s girlfriend had been identified. Before driving to work Geraldine wanted to speak to Sophia, to see if she could add anything to what they already knew about Jack. Sophia worked in a clothes shop in Camden, not far from where she lived. The shop was close to Camden Town station so Geraldine took the train there. It was sunny and warm as she strode along Camden High Street in early summer. The pavement was crowded with young people of different ethnicities. She overheard snippets of conversations from the other pedestrians as she walked by, a world away from Milly Blake’s sorry history.

She found the shop where Sophia worked without any difficulty. The window displayed an eclectic mixture of vintage Indian cotton gathered skirts, Afghan coats and fake-fur bomber jackets, together with a couple of pairs of ankle boots, some odd hats and tasselled pashminas. The interior of the shop was dark. Almost every inch of yellow wall was covered in rails of clothes, and shelves packed with hats, bags, shoes and boots. Colourful dresses hung from hangers suspended on hooks in the ceiling. The shop assistant behind the till looked up and nodded a greeting. Geraldine recognised her from the photograph on Jack’s phone.

‘Are you Sophia?’

The girl was mixed race, beautiful in a sensuous way, with full lips and large, dark eyes. Above the counter Geraldine could see her curvaceous body, and long lean arms.

‘Is your name Sophia Laramie?’ Geraldine repeated.

‘What do you want?’ The girl glanced towards a second shop assistant who was tidying dresses on a rail and called out, ‘Shaz, can you get over here?’

The other assistant was older than Sophia, dressed in a long flowery skirt and a brightly coloured tasselled shawl, her middle-aged face heavily made up.

‘I’m the manager. Can I help?’

‘I’d like a word with Sophia. Is there somewhere we can talk?’

The manager glanced at Sophia. ‘Is this customer a friend of yours?’

‘I’m not a customer, and I’m afraid I’m not a friend either.’ Geraldine held out her identity card. ‘Now, is there somewhere we can talk in private?’

‘Go on.’ The manager nodded at Sophia. ‘I’ll take over here. You’d better go downstairs. You won’t be long,’ she added, as though the duration of the interview was up to her.

‘Follow me,’ Sophia said.

‘She’s not in any trouble, is she?’ the manager asked. ‘Only if she is, I’d like to know about it.’

After reassuring them that Sophia wasn’t directly involved in any police enquiry, Geraldine followed the girl down a spiral staircase past two changing cubicles, through a low door which Sophia unlocked. It led to a small office with a battered desk and an old computer. Sophia sat behind the desk and gestured to the one other plastic chair in the room.

‘I’d like to ask you about Jack Bates.’

‘What about him?’

‘Do you know him?’

Sophia wriggled uncomfortably on her chair and nodded.

‘Is he your boyfriend?’

‘He thinks he is.’

‘You know Jack was arrested on Monday evening for stabbing another man?’

Sophia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.

‘What can you tell me about the incident?’

Sophia replied that she hadn’t been there. At first, she said she knew nothing about it, but then admitted she knew the man who had been injured in the fight, insisting he was just a friend. When Geraldine asked if Jack was violent, she denied the allegation.

‘That ain’t it. Jack ain’t bad. He’d never hurt no one. He’s gentle. You should see the way he is with his brother, who’s like a kid.’

‘We know Jack’s violent. He was arrested for stabbing another man. And that’s not all. As well as using a knife, we believe he shot two men.’

Sophia looked scared. ‘Nah. Not Jack. Someone’s fitting him up.’

Geraldine pressed her point, but the girl refused to budge, insisting that Jack would never hurt anyone, and he must have been provoked into using a knife in self-defence.

‘Ain’t a guy allowed to take care of himself? Where was you lot when he was assaulted? That’s supposed to be your job, protecting people, innit?’

Geraldine changed her approach. ‘You told me Jack would like to be your boyfriend, and you also said you knew the man he attacked.’

‘He never attacked no one.’

‘You said you knew the other man involved in the fight.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Is it possible Jack stabbed him in a fit of jealousy?’

Sophia pouted. ‘You go putting words in my mouth, I’m gonna deny ever saying a word. I ain’t got nothing more to say to you. I need to get back to work. Shaz is up there all on her own. Now you gotta go.’

Geraldine followed Sophia back up the spiral staircase. The visit had been a waste of time.

62

L
ENNY WAS OUT
when Gina returned home from the pawn shop. She waited for hours, fuming. It was late when he finally turned up, blind drunk. He had money enough to get himself pissed when he wanted, which was most evenings, unless he was feeling ill. He staggered into the living room too drunk to take in a word she said. When she tried to talk to him seriously, he collapsed on to the sofa laughing hysterically, only to fall off it making a grab for her.

‘Get over here, baby,’ he called out, using the arm of the sofa to pull himself up on to his knees. His speech was slurred.

‘Get off me,’ she snapped. ‘You’re pissed. I’m going to bed.’

She could hear him snoring on the sofa all night. By the time he woke, Gina was already up and dressed. When he came into the kitchen, she was waiting for him, hands on hips.

‘Get us a cup of tea, babe.’

For answer, she held out her hand, wriggling her ring finger at him.

He grinned. ‘Very nice.’

‘What happened to my diamond?’

‘It’s a beauty,’ he replied, but he didn’t sound quite so enthusiastic now.

‘What happened to my diamond?’ she repeated, her voice rising in anger.

Lenny blinked at her, his mouth hanging open. ‘What you yelling at me like that for, woman? Jesus, I only just woke up. Get us a cup of tea for fuck’s sake. My head’s killing me.’

Gina waved her hand in front of his face. ‘I know this ain’t the same as what you give me. I know it. This ain’t the same as what you give me. I got eyes. I ain’t no idiot. I can see when something’s different and this ain’t the same. It ain’t got the real colours like what you see in a real diamond. You think I’m an idiot. I seen it when you first give it me, and it was all shiny and it had colours in the diamond what you could see with your eye. And now they ain’t there so I know it ain’t the same.’

‘You’re not looking at it right.’

‘I know what you done,’ she shrieked, ‘you gone and sold my diamond and given me some shit fake crap instead. I want my diamond back! You fucking cheapskate, I want what’s mine or –’

Lenny knew when the game was up. He took a step towards her.

‘Or what?’ he interrupted her.

‘Or you’ll be sorry.’

‘Don’t you threaten me!’ he yelled.

Beside herself with fury she seized a saucepan off the hob and raised it above her head. Lenny lunged forward and grabbed her arm, jerking it downwards with a sudden wrench. The pan fell from her grasp, landing on the floor with a loud clatter. She screamed.

‘Let go! You’re hurting me!’

‘Don’t you ever raise your hand against me again, you fucking bitch!’

Lenny swung his free hand and slapped the side of her head. ‘After all I done for you! I took you off the street and put a roof over your head. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be in the gutter, you piece of filth.’

He let go of her and she retreated out of reach, sobbing. ‘I only wanted what was mine. I only wanted my diamond, the one what you give me. It was mine. You said so.’

‘Whatever you got is because of me. Whatever you got is mine. You got nothing. Nothing! Now get lost for fuck’s sake. No, forget it, I’m going out.’

‘Where you going?’

‘Down the pub. Anywhere I don’t have to see your fucking face and hear you bloody moaning all the time. Ungrateful bitch. You’re lucky I don’t throw you back in the gutter where you come from.’

Afraid of provoking his anger again, Gina didn’t dare move or speak but waited in the kitchen, trembling, until she heard the front door slam. Then she ran into the bedroom and flung herself down on the bed where she gave way to a fit of sobbing. As she wept, she pummelled Lenny’s pillow, wishing it was his face. At last she sat up and went to the bathroom to study her face in the mirror. Her left temple was still red from the impact of his slap. She was lucky he hadn’t given her a black eye. If he had used his fist, he might have knocked her out. It wouldn’t be the first time. She considered her options but without the diamond, her choice was limited. She was getting too old to go back on the street. Her pimp wouldn’t be interested in her any more, if he was even still alive. Younger women would have come along to take her place. In any case, even living with Lenny was preferable to the dangers of getting in strangers’ cars. He could be a vicious brute but she knew what she was dealing with and, to be fair, he hadn’t put her in hospital yet.

He would stagger home later, blind drunk, and come on to her as though they hadn’t fought earlier on. In his own way, he was fond of her. They had been together for years, like an old married couple. It wasn’t unreasonable, expecting her to take a few beatings in exchange for a home, and she didn’t really mind the occasional bruises. They soon faded. The problem was, she hated him, and that was never going to fade.

63

B
ACK AT HER
desk, Geraldine decided to contact Louise after writing up her report on her interview with Sophia. Neil was at his desk and any one of her other colleagues might come into her office at any moment. Geraldine went outside so no one could overhear her conversation. Walking past the row of silver birch trees, she made the call and was invited to Louise’s office to discuss the funeral face to face. Geraldine agreed at once. She would happily have finalised the arrangements over the phone, but she had her own reason for wanting to meet the social worker in person.