Beautiful Death (14 page)

‘What do you mean?’ Jack suddenly realised. ‘Oh yes, my appointment with Dr Brooks.’

‘Spill your soul.’

‘I have to do it by the book, Cam.’

He shrugged. ‘Just lie. Say what she wants to hear.’

Jack nodded noncomittally. ‘Actually I think I’ll appreciate talking to someone without worrying about the consequences.’

‘Well, she’s not the one, chief. She’s a consultant to the Met and she’ll have you off this case quicker than lager turns to piss.’

‘Yeah, I’ll be careful.’

‘We’ll watch your back. But you have to tell us when it’s all going pear-shaped in your head.’

‘Has Kate been talking to you?’

‘I don’t need DI Carter to tell me what grief feels like.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I reckon you’ve had your fair share of it. But I lost someone I loved once. I don’t talk about it because it was a long time ago, but it hurt. Still does.’

Jack nodded. Strange how you discovered the most unlikely information about someone at the oddest times. He was sure the normally cynical Cam Brodie would never have revealed that pain under normal circumstances. He was such a tough nut. But there was something about this moment, two men in a car, talking honestly — and out it came. He shook his head in the dark, realising there was always something new to learn about everyone, always
something to learn about people in general.

He glanced at his watch. ‘Perhaps drop me at Cockfosters. I can grab the Piccadilly line.’

‘Much of a muchness, chief,’ Brodie said, shrugging. ‘It’s rush hour whichever way you package it.’

‘Still quicker, I reckon, by the time you hit the city traffic — I’m heading in the wrong direction for most commuters.’

‘Listen, I know what you’re doing. But you can’t avoid us — people who care, I mean — and most of all
us
, your team. I’ll get you back. We won’t talk. Just be still. I don’t reckon you’ve had time to yourself all day since it happened.’

Jack felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over him. He didn’t want Cam being kind right now.

‘Just drop me anywhere from this parade of shops coming up.’

Cam didn’t slow the car. ‘Once I get us across the North Circular, we should have a reasonably clear run on the A10.’

Jack said nothing, turning to face the darkening sky as Cam fell mercifully silent. He watched as they gradually eased through the dreaded North Circular and once clear of that they were soon doing reasonable time past Tottenham Football Ground. Normally Jack liked to drive, but today he’d allowed Cam to take charge of the silver Ford Sierra Ghia, not trusting himself behind the wheel. It was rare for him to have time to take a really good look at the different neighbourhoods he traversed in the course of a day’s work, but he quickly realised this mainly Afro Caribbean area was seriously deprived. Soon enough they were hitting Stamford Hill and his attention was captured by the Hasidic Jews who formed the area’s main residential group. It was only
the men who were out and about at this time; dozens of them in their distinctive outfits, crisscrossing the streets, probably on their way to or from their prayers.

‘Strange lot this,’ Cam said, his first words in twenty minutes or more.

‘I don’t really know much about them,’ Jack admitted.

‘I used to live around here. Trust me, it’s a very closed community. They’re quiet, and nice enough, but they can be suspicious of anyone outside their
religion.’

Jack shrugged. That didn’t sound so strange.

‘The women look drab and always so tired, probably because of the huge number of kids they punch out. They have to shave off their hair once they’re married — most of the women wear wigs, usually under a scarf.’

‘Are you making this up?’

‘No, chief, I swear it. I lived next to a really nice family. The usual load of kids. It’s nothing for a couple to have nine or ten children.’

Jack looked across at Brodie, waiting to see when the punchline was coming, but his colleague just glanced over and nodded.

‘No jest.’

‘What else did you learn living here?’ Jack asked.

‘The kids go to separate schools — boys and girls, I mean. And they have two kitchens in their houses.’

‘Ah, I’ve heard about that,’ Jack said. ‘Separating meat and dairy, right?’

‘Something like that,’ Cam agreed. ‘It’s very strict.’

‘Well, that’s fair enough. And it doesn’t hurt anyone else.’ Jack turned to stare out the window
again. They were already in Dalston, a dilapidated and poor area of Hackney, once dubbed ‘the arsehole of the world’ by its own residents, Jack recalled. He watched one woman, wearily struggling with so many plastic bags of food he had to wonder how many mouths she was feeding.

Now they were moving closer to Shoreditch, where Lily had lived. This was hard for Jack. He was pleased he only vaguely knew where her flat was; they’d always met at his place in Greenwich, because Lily was nervous of her parents making an unannounced visit, something she assured him they were more than capable of doing.
You just don’t
understand ethnic families, Jack,
she’d groan.

Jack briefly closed his eyes and finally took stock of the savage attack the day had made on his emotions. He knew he’d pushed the real pain somewhere deep and that’s where he was going to leave it for now. He had no intention of allowing himself to consider it too closely, not for a little
while yet.

‘Leave me anywhere here, Cam. Bishopsgate would be good.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes. We’ve made great time, well done.’

This time Brodie slowed the car and Jack got out. ‘I’ll be in early.’

‘All of us will, I reckon.’

‘Thanks, Cam.’ When his DI did a double take, he added, ‘For the support.’

The man nodded, lifted a hand in farewell and merged back into the traffic. Jack looked at his watch again. He was standing opposite Liverpool Street Station; a frenzy of commuters was pouring lemming-like through its entrance. The streets were
awash with people, either heading for the market, or perhaps more likely, to the nearby mosque. Jack joined the throng heading east towards Brick Lane all over again, impressed at the good time Cam had made.

If he was honest, he had emerged from the warmth of the police car onto the cold streets of east London feeling far more in control than at any time since learning of Lily’s death. Only a slight tingling in his throat reminded him that something was seriously wrong in his life. It was amazing how the body handled grief. Whatever chemicals were pouring into his system right now were keeping him numb, and he was glad of it. For the rest, he considered himself a fine actor, giving an Oscar-worthy performance.

11.

Finding Fournier Street was easy enough. It ran off Brick Lane, not far from where Lily had been found. Jack ignored the thought as best he could, striding on towards the mosque at the corner, cutting through the old market area of Spitalfields. He’d considered moving to the district after returning from Australia, but although Spitalfields had plenty of history, it had gone the way of the Docklands — all chrome and glass and seriously hip. The contemporary makeover of old factories and commercial buildings was stunning to look at, but it wasn’t Jack’s ideal living environment. He’d wandered around a great old space that would have made an amazing studio-style apartment, but once he’d seen the elegant Georgian flat at Croom’s Hill, he was sold. Nevertheless, he really appreciated the redevelopment of the old meat and fresh produce markets; the quarter that had gone into deep decline for a while but was now another sparkling success story for a London that was reinventing itself, reclaiming so many old slum areas.

He found Dr Brooks’s professional rooms just as a soft wail emanated from the mosque. Prayer time. Jack pressed the buzzer and waited.

‘Right on time. I do like a man who’s prompt!’ A friendly voice he recognised came through the speaker. ‘But just to be safe you’d better say your name,’ the voice added.

‘It’s Jack Hawksworth, Dr Brooks.’

‘Call me Jane.’ He heard another buzzer and the door clicked softly open.

Inside all seemed hushed amid soft, uber-cool lighting, then Jack heard the distant clang of the lift humming into action high above. The lift doors duly opened, and a slender woman with thick dark layered hair, smooth olive complexion and dark lustrous eyes walked towards him. As she’d warned him she was petite, possibly just a touch over five feet, he guessed, though her serious heels gave her a couple more inches. She was impeccably dressed in a chic black skirt, leather jacket and silk scarf.

‘Hello Jack,’ she said, in that nicely welcoming voice. Her smile was wide and generous.

‘Thank you again for seeing me this evening,’ he said, shaking her hand, noticing the softness of her skin and her neat clearly polished nails. This woman took excellent care of the way she looked and her attractiveness shone, though he suspected she did her best to underplay it.

‘You know, it occurred to me that you might feel more comfortable outside of my psychiatric consulting rooms. And given that I haven’t been out of the building for even a second today I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. How cold is it out there?’

‘On a scale of ten I’d reckon eight.’

‘Ah! A man who answers a question in a way I can understand,’ she said, digging leather gloves from her slim satchel. She grinned. ‘I hate it when I ask a man directions and he tells me to head west for two hundred yards and then turn south. Why can’t he tell me to walk down such and such a street — and point it out — until I see a bakery and then turn left? Good grief, you are tall, aren’t you?’

Jack was a little stunned by her onslaught, but found her vivaciousness amusing; it was the first bit of brightness to come his way this day. ‘Perhaps it’s just that you are built like a doll?’ he couldn’t help replying.

She took it in her stride. ‘I hope that’s a compliment.’

‘It is,’ he said, holding the door open for her. ‘So, not being in your professional rooms is okay? I mean, it still counts as a session, right?’

Her gaze narrowed. ‘I see, you’re attending under protest. Am I right?’

He shook his head. ‘No, even I agree it’s necessary, but I also have to show formal proof that I’ve done as I promised.’

‘I understand.’ She stepped across the threshhold, made a muffled sound of horror as the blast of cold hit her, and then pointed. ‘This way. There’s a half-decent coffee shop not far from here that serves a good strong brew.’

‘You’re on,’ he said, and instinctively took her elbow for the few moments it took them to hurry across the road.

The streets were still crowded and Jack let the doctor lead the way, focusing on her pale pink and lemon scarf to keep sight of her in the crush of people.

‘Here,’ she called, at last, over her shoulder at a doorway, about six or seven minutes after they’d set out. ‘Okay?’

‘Perfect,’ he said, looking into the almost deserted coffee shop.

She paused for him to open the door. ‘Anyone sane would be in the pub.’

He grinned, liking her and sensing that she was going to make this as easy as possible for him. ‘Why don’t you find somewhere to sit? My shout for the coffee.’

He returned with the steaming drinks to where Dr Brooks had settled in a darkish corner, near the window but not far from a radiator, he noticed.

He smiled. ‘Keeping warm?’

She’d taken off her leather jacket and shivered her slim shoulders as she reached eagerly for the coffee. ‘I love winter, but I don’t like to be cold indoors. You’ll see when you come into the office. I recommend you dress in layers when you visit me.’

‘Is your home equally well heated?’

She nodded, undoing her silk scarf slightly. ‘Sorry, I should have mentioned that. I combine my consulting rooms with living quarters. We have a place in St Albans — the family home — but during the week I often find it easier to stay over in London. I work late most nights. Marty does too, but he doesn’t mind the commute from the city as much as I do. He also doesn’t have to work weekends, as I often do.’

‘Marty’s your husband?’ Jack asked, surprised she’d offered personal information in the midst of small talk, and even more surprised she’d said so much: for someone who listened to people for a living, she liked to talk a lot. Perhaps that was her ploy.
Smart
, he decided.
Very smart
.

She nodded. ‘He’s a lawyer — one of the best in corporate law — earning a filthy amount consulting to one of the merchant banks in Threadneedle Street.’

‘Children?’

‘A son, at university in Scotland.’

‘You don’t look old enough.’

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. ‘Believe me I am — I started rather young, but thank you all the same. Cheers!’ she raised her cup. ‘What shall we drink to?’

‘Catching my killer?’ he replied without hesitation.

She regarded him coolly for a moment. ‘You hide your feelings well, Jack. I know that’s an enviable trait in your profession.’

‘You’ve only known me minutes.’

She nodded. ‘But I can see from the way your leg is constantly jittering and by the haunted look in your eyes that this has truly rattled your world.’

He looked down and took care to control his voice. ‘Today I saw the woman I was in a loving relationship with — and was looking forward to seeing tonight in fact — dead on a pathology slab, about to be cut open. And she no longer had her face. I think I’m entitled to do everything I can to keep my feelings on this to myself.’

Jack felt the warmth of her hand on his wrist.

‘It’s not wrong what you’re doing, Jack. The job demands that you put your head above your heart but I’m not sure your superiors would insist on that in this particular case, with this particular victim. It’s too close.’ She removed her hand quickly.

‘Dr Brooks, if —’

‘Jane,’ she corrected.

‘Jane, if I don’t spearhead this operation, I’ll not only be mad with grief, but I’ll enrage whoever does
head it up with my constant interference. I’m grieving, yes. I’m angry, yes. Bitter even? Yes! But I am neither stupid nor incapable of doing my job. I was picked from a field of very good DCIs to do this because my chief knew this case required
my
skills,
my
instincts. Nothing about the case has changed because my girlfriend has tragically become a victim; all that’s changed since this morning is that I’m now on a crusade. I’ll admit that much to you, but only because we’re talking informally. We’re not in a professional session and if you mention my admission to my superiors — or indeed anyone on the force — I will deny I ever said it.’

She raised an eyebrow but kept silent as he went on. ‘My crusade is not about revenge, it’s not about atonement; it’s to find a killer who thinks he’s cleverer than us, above the law, and can pluck someone as innocent as Lily off the streets and cut her face off and then dump her in a supermarket car park. I am hurting, Jane, I can’t help that, but I intend to convert my pain into energy. I will find him. He will pay for taking Lily from me, for stealing her life. And he will do his penance four times over for the other lives he’s cruelly taken and wrecked.’ He stopped abruptly, angry that he’d said so much and with such passion.

She put down her coffee. ‘You’re convinced it’s a him this time?’

It was Jack’s turn to regard her. ‘You’ve done your homework, I see.’

‘It’s my job, Jack. You don’t think this new case has resonance?’

‘No, absolutely not,’ he said, taking a swig of his coffee, barely tasting it this time. ‘This has nothing to do with me. How can it? I hadn’t known her long,

I admit it, but I’m as adept at making judgements as you are, Jane, and I can’t imagine Lily had any enemies, unless you count other women who were jealous of her.’

‘What else have your instincts told you?’

‘Lily wasn’t in any trouble that I was aware of, so I’m sure she wasn’t executed for any dark dealings on her part. I have to believe she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and noticed by the wrong person. The killer probably didn’t even know her name or where she was from or the fact that she was meant to be in my arms tonight.’ He felt sick saying it, and heard his voice break slightly as he remembered the warmth and softness of Lily close to his body.

Jane obviously heard it too, and quickly moved him on. ‘And the other victims followed this same pattern?’ she queried. ‘Beautiful young women?’

Jack shook his head, sipped his coffee again. ‘Actually no. Two were Asian men, probably illegals, in their thirties. The first victim was an Eastern European vagrant — again, we have no family or history, so his status is a supposition. He was a male in his late thirties or early forties. Lily’s the only woman, she’s the only one with a family claiming her, the only one with work, so our killer is not following any particular pattern with who he
chooses.’

‘What does the killer want?’ Jane wondered.

He shrugged. ‘We’re yet to discover. At first we thought it might be a black-market racket for kidney theft but they were only removed from two victims — and the slicing of the faces makes that theory go murky.’

She nodded slowly, taking in everything he was telling her. ‘And how are you actually feeling, Jack?’

‘Gutted, but that’s the tip of the iceberg. I haven’t really had a chance to think. Things with me and Lily weren’t straightforward. Lily was considering a marriage proposal from another man — a Chinese guy her parents approved of. He’s very wealthy; would have given her a grand lifestyle; their children would be raised in the culture of her ancestors. She
was meant to be giving him her decision shortly — as I said, her parents, with whom she was extremely close, would have been very happy with this choice.’

‘But Lily wasn’t, I’m guessing,’ Dr Brooks prompted.

Jack shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t think so. But she didn’t like to talk about it. The fact that she was with me said enough, don’t you think?’ Jane said nothing, forcing Jack to continue. ‘Only Lily refused to acknowledge him as her fiancé. The rest of the family already considered him that. There was no formal engagement but as far as her family was concerned, the wedding was going ahead.’

Jane nodded. ‘What pressure!’

‘Indeed.’

‘And no one knew about you, am I to understand?’

‘No one but Alys.’ He explained. ‘Lily’s little sister. She’s fifteen.’

‘Ah.’ She looked at him steadily, her head cocked at a slight angle. ‘Are your relationships always so complex, Jack?’

He let out a gust of sad laughter that disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. ‘I’ll never live down the McEvoy case, will I?’

She smiled kindly.

‘I think you’d have liked her,’ was all he was prepared to say about Anne McEvoy.

‘So Lily made you happy.’

‘Yes. It was easy to feel happy around her. As unsettling as it was knowing that our relationship had no future, we both seemed to be enjoying just living in the present … being happy. How about you? Are you happy?’

She stared at him, surprised. ‘What a curious question.’

‘Why?’

‘How does it relate to our conversation? Does it matter how happy I am?’

‘I think it helps,’ he answered. ‘Otherwise how can you counsel me?’

She laughed. ‘My life has no relevance to yours. Besides, I’m not counselling you.’

‘Fair enough. I think you’ve answered me anyway.’

She leaned forward, a little anxiously, Jack thought. ‘No, I didn’t. I refuse to comment.’

He grinned over the top of his coffee and it seemed to disarm her.

‘Okay, okay. Is anyone deliriously happy?’

‘I was until this morning.’

She nodded. ‘And from what I’ve learned about you, Jack, you probably deserved to be happy.’

He shrugged.

‘And you feel utterly convinced that you can run this operation and not allow your personal feelings to overwhelm you?’

‘Absolutely, I do. I’ve already spoken with a senior member of the Ghost Squad. He’s not thrilled by my plan, but he doesn’t believe it’s necessary to launch an investigation. He’s the reason I’m here. I gave him my word. I don’t regret it, but I’m worried that seeing a therapist might be taken as an admission of frailty. I
don’t
want to be taken off the case.’

She frowned. ‘You took this to DPS, didn’t you? It wasn’t the other way around.’

He agreed.

‘Good. And you contacted me. That’s another plus. What about your team?’

‘I told all of them this morning, laid out my cards.’

‘What was the reaction?’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘One hundred per cent support,’ he fibbed, discounting Kate’s objection. Kate’s feelings were getting in the way of how she regarded the situation, he told himself. He suddenly realised Kate would probably dislike Jane on sight — particularly the way she spoke so naturally and easily to him. Introducing them would be dangerous fun, he thought.