TRACE - CSI Reilly Steel #5 (Forensic novel Police Procedural Series) (23 page)

‘Of course.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, but she just couldn’t get the words out. It wasn’t then right time.

‘Great. I’d better shoot, I’ve got to be at the lab soon. But don’t be a stranger OK? I’ll keep you updated about my plans.’

‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

After they had hung up she leaned her head against the cool counter, completely forgetting for a second what she had been in the middle of doing.

The hour approaches. Despite all my fears, everything has gone to plan. That woman, the cop, has not been on my case again.

I’ve since found out a little bit about her life. She’s a woman with a tragic past and has turned that tragedy into a nice little career for herself. You would think that it would make her value the important things in life, but it’s just made her completely obsessed with her profession and a rise to the top. She’s one of those women who will ignore everything if it means success. It’s a wonder I didn’t come across her on the dating sights, trawling for a casual fling to fill her lonely nights. I would have taken great joy in ending her. There would have been some irony in that.

But really, all other joys are petty compared to what will happen tonight.

I considered a range of ingredients for Constance. I wanted something traditional, something with a little dramatic flair. I considered Tetradotoxin, that substance found in the blue ringed octopus and the puffer fish. But it simply works too quickly.

Then I thought about arsenic. It’s an illustrious poison, used to kill Napoleon, George 3
^rd
and Simon Bolivar. Undetectable too until someone found an ingenious way to test for it. Also in its favor is that was once used as a cosmetic. It made women’s complexions lustrous and pale. How tempting to kill a woman using a mark of woman’s vanity. But again, too quick, too chemical.

Aconite was next, but the leaves of this are so toxic that one can die after just touching one. I didn’t want to leave room for any nasty accidents. But the fact that it causes asphyxiation was tempting. How nice for Ruth to know that her baby died in a terror of feeling the breath being sucked from her lungs, her eyes bulging and her tongue swelling from the pressure. But it was simply too dangerous. I didn’t want a Romeo and Juliet scenario.

Hemlock it was then. That famous poison, used to kill Socrates. Just 100 milligrams, or about eight leaves will kill a person. It’s a terrible death. Paralysis comes over the body slowly, but the mind is left wide awake to experience every second of the death. I plan to tell Constance exactly why she is dying as the hemlock does its work. I will tell her that her mother is a monster, and that it is by Ruth’s own hand that she dies. I want her to die knowing that the world isn’t the perfect place she has been brought up to believe in. I want her pain, but I also want her understanding. Is that so hard? That someone should finally understand me?

All these years I have been laboring to become the best version of myself. I have tried to overcome the darkness of my upbringing. I am successful, I am smart, I am strong.

No one knows the real me. It would be nice to tell just one person. I have thought about whispering it in the ears of the dying, but they’ve never been right. Those women are exactly the ones who would see me abandoned and mistreated again, if they could. They see me as weak, as vengeful, when really I am trying to do something good for the world. No child should have to be lonely. No child should have to be blamed for the failings of another.

But Constance is different. She believes in family, in kindness. If she knew me, I think she would understand me. I think she would forgive me.

I have made great sacrifices to live this life. Do you think that I didn’t wish for a good woman of my own, a family of my own? But I have dedicated myself to teaching the world its errors. To teaching women, one by one, that they can’t have everything.

After tonight, Tony Ellis and Danny Prime are no more. It will be a new country, a new name. The man remains the same though. The man and his passions.

I have decided to enjoy my time with Constance. There are two mac and cheese portions bubbling softly in the oven, one laced with hemlock, one not. A glass of merlot breathes on a table specially set for us both. We will eat an entrée of the lightest, fluffiest duck parfait that you can imagine. Constance deserves the undiluted pleasure of my cooking before she dies.

I am not expecting anything to go wrong, for there to be any mistakes. But just in case, I have prepared a syringe filled with the liquid I used on McMurty. It would be a great shame to use it, as it would ruin the purity of my plan, but if the need arises, I will.

There will be nothing to get in the way of my ultimate goal. Ruth Dell will feel my hand reach for her, as she felt it a thousand times when I was a child, when I wanted her comfort.

But this time, I will be the one ignoring her pain, her need. She will know what it is to feel true pain.

Reilly had regained her composure a few minutes after Todd’s call. No way could he come here, to Dublin, anytime soon. Although wouldn’t it be best to tell him the news in person? Why? So that he could see her own doubt written all over her face? Yeah, sure, what a great idea.

But she had been about to do something, had wanted to find out more information about Hammer and Tong’s elusive co-owner.

She had forgotten his name, so she just searched “Hammer and Tongs”. A few clicks later she hit on a profile of renowned chef Tony Ellis carried out by the
Irish Times
Food and Wine Review
.

He grew up in London it read, with less than illustrious beginnings. Tony Ellis had been on the street at sixteen. ‘I probably ate from the rubbish bins of restaurants I later worked at,’ he joked. He didn’t elaborate further on his childhood, except to say that he was proud to have made something of himself. He became a premier chef in London, it said, able to whip up all the classics, but more than capable of wowing. About eighteen months ago he’d come to Dublin to oversee the opening of a new restaurant by Nico Peroni. ‘I believe food is like art,’ he said. ‘It has to evolve. It has to keep changing and it has to shock people. If people find it unpleasant at first, then that’s only because their minds haven’t caught up with the times.’ Reilly made a face. How arrogant. This guy had no right to be telling other people what they should like and dislike, or that there was something wrong with them if they didn’t like his food.

At the end of the piece the interviewer asked if there was anyone special on the scene. He said he was too busy, that his various restaurants kept him working such grueling hours that it was impossible to date.

But who would be your ideal woman, pressed the interviewer, if you could date. ‘Someone traditional,’ said Ellis. ‘Someone with understated taste, who would raise our children with undivided attention and love.’ Reilly almost threw up. Who was this guy, anyway?

She scrolled to the bottom of the piece to see a picture of a man who wasn’t looking at the camera, but was studying something to the left. It wasn’t a good photo, but there was no mistaking it. She was looking at the guy from the running group; Danny Prime.

Chapter 44

Constance Dell got ready for her evening out with her usual irreverence. She knew it was supposed to be a solemn occasion, but it was also a celebration, yes? Of life. So a bright orange dress was completely appropriate, as were the little cat earrings she donned. Maybe Danny’s mother had liked cats.

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed a little weird that she was having this remembrance dinner with a guy she barely knew, for a woman she definitely hadn’t know. But life was like that, wasn't it? At least, hers was. Strange things happened to her all the time. She jumped from one thing to the next, trying to learn as much about life as possible. Her mother told her to slow down, to savor things, but she didn’t want to savor things, she wanted to gobble them right up.

So anyway, this wasn’t a completely out of the blue situation to find herself in. Someone was going to cook her dinner, and they would have a nice time. She probably wouldn’t see much of Danny after this. She had started to date the firefighter and boy, was that an experience. There’s nothing quite like a man who can lift you with one arms. And she had taken up yoga, which she felt was better for her mind and body. So she just wouldn’t be running as much. It would be a nice way to say goodbye to someone who had helped her.

She checked the address he’d given her one more time. Baggot Street was in an upmarket area of town. Maybe Danny was rich. Well, it would be nice to get a decent meal. Ruth hadn’t taught Constance to cook so much as to throw things together. She lived on salads, soups and hot chips.

She threw her coat and headed out. She would be a couple of minutes late but she was sure Danny would understand.

Reilly cursed as she threw on some clothes. Anything that came to hand. What day was it? Saturday. What was the time? Just before 7 PM. And why did that mean something to her.
Think,
she told herself as she pulled on a pair of boots.

And then it struck her like someone had poured cold ice water into her veins. The girl, the pretty red head from the running group. ‘See you Saturday week?’ she had yelled. ‘Eight sharp,’ Danny Prime had replied. ‘You know where Baggot Street is yes?’

Reilly knew there wasn’t a second to spare.

The traffic was murder. There was a storm forecast, so of course everyone had figured this was a good time to get on the road. Reilly inched forward, her windscreen wipers going like crazy.

It was imperative that she get to the restaurant in time. She picked up her phone and dialed Chris. Voicemail. She left a message that she knew she wouldn’t remember later, just garbled explanations and instructions. When she hung up, she tried to dial the nearest garda station, for back up, but her phone died. Low battery. It seemed that these days she just kept on letting herself down.

Well, it’s just you now, she thought. No time for anything else.

Chris was at the gym, trying to put some miles between him and his day. If it wasn’t for Kennedy, an innocent man would still be in prison.

Well, this was why his partner was a top ranking detective: he was good at his job. He might hide behind his bluster a lot of the time, but he was sharp as a tack. Part of being a cop was learning when to trust your instinct and when to know that you were being paranoid.

The truth was Chris himself had been too distracted by the burgeoning connection between himself and Reilly to look too closely at what was happening. And Reilly had probably been distracted by her own problems. Thoughts of Todd Forrest, perhaps. No, that was unfair. Reilly was the best investigator he had ever worked with. She just had too much on her plate, that was all.

And he hadn’t helped her, really. He had confused the issue further. It would have been better for them both if he’d just kept his feelings to himself. It had just made the ensuing revelation of her pregnancy even harder. Now she didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to acknowledge that it was happening.

He supposed that if Reilly had a flaw, it was her belief that she could control things, just by wanting them to be a certain way. He knew it wasn’t true, that you expended precious energy trying to bend your life into a particular shape. He had learnt to let things go a little, to let life wash over him. People might say that it was the attitude of someone who had given up, but the truth was that Chris didn’t want to fight his life anymore. He just wanted for things to be a little bit better in the lives of everyone he knew. Another impossible dream.

At least there was the rest of the weekend to look forward to. Tomorrow was little Rachel’s birthday there would be the party at Matt and Emma’s house. Though looking after a room full of shrieking four year olds was not for the faint hearted.

So, yes, Chris told himself, there were still things in life that were good, things to look forward to. He had let himself hope for something, to imagine that he wouldn’t be spending all his nights at home alone. But he had learnt his lesson. He just needed to live his life the best he could and not worry about love and its confusions. He and Reilly could just continue working together and he would support her in any way that she would let him. If he couldn’t be in her life in quite the way he wanted, then he would be a friend. It would have to be good enough.

In the meantime, maybe it was time to think about a holiday. He had travelled when he was younger, but he hadn’t gone anywhere, apart from a weekend down the country, for a very long time. Maybe he should try somewhere completely different like Vietnam, or Australia even. It would be good for him to get a complete change of scene. It would probably be beneficial for his work as well. The change would revive him and refresh him, focus him a little bit.

He stopped the treadmill, feeling satisfied with the thinking he had done. It was good to clear up your thoughts, to sort out the swirling mess and put everything in its proper place.

If Chris noticed the women who gave him a few sidelong looks as he made his way to the changing rooms, he didn’t let on. He was used to attention from women, but most of it just slid off of him.

He showered and dressed and made his way out into a bleak summer’s night. A light rain had begun to fall. He got in his car and slid an Etta James CD into the stereo. He needed something light hearted and cheering. Just then he noticed that the message light on his phone was flashing. Kennedy, maybe, or Matt? He checked. No, it was Reilly. He dialed through to his messages straight away.

It was so rushed as to be almost incoherent. She knew who it was she said, and he was doing it again. Right now. She was going to Baggott Street and she needed him to come too, and bring back up. Fast.

He sat in the car for a few more seconds, taking deep breaths and trying to figure out exactly what Reilly was talking about. She knew who the killer was? And she was going there now to stop him? Where? Baggott Street….did she mean Hammer and Tongs?

A surge of pure fear ran through his body, and even in the warmth of the car a cold sweat broke on his brow. Had he stopped and considered for a second what he was feeling, he would have known that all his thinking had been for nothing. He loved Reilly Steel. Nothing else really mattered. Life was full of twists and turns. But he did love her.

But Chris didn’t stop to consider his feelings. He only knew that he had to get there as soon as he could. Reilly was in danger.

The message had been left a half an hour ago.