Beautiful Death (30 page)

‘You made it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he began wearily.

‘Don’t be. You sound tired, come on up.’ The buzzer sounded again and the door opened.

He trudged through and made sure it closed behind him before he pressed the lift button. He stepped out into the landing, relieved to discover that
the architects had not only faithfully preserved the building’s exterior walls but had retained its integrity inside, where he’d anticipated a hard-edged ‘metal and cyberman’ makeover. Instead, the original pinkish stone interior walls were still in evidence. At this bleak moment, he drew comfort from their survival.

‘Jack,’ he heard Dr Brooks calling, ‘down here.’

He strode along the passage to her suite.

‘Like the building?’ she asked.

‘Modern with dignity. Full marks,’ he replied.

‘I’d heard you were something of an architecture buff,’ she said, standing aside and gesturing for him to enter. ‘Come on in.’

‘Not really a buff. I just like certain types of buildings and apart from Canary Wharf — which has me captivated — I’m drawn to older places. What can I say? I like history. I especially like the idea that these walls,’ he said, slapping his palm against the warm stone of the doorway, ‘have heard so many voices, seen so many things, hold so many stories.’

She smiled gently at him. ‘You old romantic. Oh, it’s just down the hall and to the right.’

Jack hesitated. He’d been inclined to turn left into what appeared to be her consulting room. ‘Sorry, did you say right?’

Jane Brooks drew alongside him. ‘I did, but if you’d feel more comfy in there, I’ll just go and fetch my gin and tonic and —’

He put up his hands in mock defeat. ‘Oh, definitely not. I just … well, I —’

She smiled. ‘Are you off duty now? You look like you could use a drink.’

He sighed. ‘Downstairs I was thinking exactly the
same thing. Is that all right … I mean, are we allowed to …?’

‘Allowed?’ She smiled again. ‘Yes, we’re over eighteen and allowed to have a single drink. It’s nearly seven and definitely dark out there.’ She led the way into an open-plan living area. ‘Besides, I’m not your therapist, I’m simply getting you through this week so you can tick all the right boxes and stay out of trouble with your chief. I’ll be handing you over to Gabby in two days and she’ll set up a proper course of therapy.’ She turned. ‘But Jack, if this makes you uncomfortable, we can —’

‘Not at all,’ he said, moving into the centre of the room. ‘Wow, this is magnificent.’ Huge windows looked down into the square below and onto a series of tower blocks. Through a gap in the buildings he saw lights twinkling across London’s Docklands and with delight he noticed he could just make out the continuous beacon at the top of Canary Wharf. ‘What a view.’

‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘No wonder you prefer to stay in town,’ he said.

She sighed. ‘It’s just easier, as I said. Working late, like tonight, I hate the thought of having to catch a tube or drive home.’

‘How’s your husband?’

‘Oh, he’s fine. Overseas at the moment.’

‘Right,’ Jack said, hating his polite tone.

‘So, G&T, wine, vodka?’

Against his inclinations the professional in him won through … but only just. ‘You know, Jane, I think I’d better keep it soft tonight. I could get a call and you want me to talk … I think all it would take is one glass of wine to make me feel just too loose.’

‘That’s very responsible. No problem, Jack,’ she said, although she looked vaguely disappointed, he thought. ‘Lemonade, Coke? Er, I only have Diet. Or a soda with fresh lemon?’

‘That sounds good.’

She smiled. ‘Please, take a seat. Just throw yourself down wherever looks comfortable.’

As she filled a glass with ice and twisted the cap off a fresh bottle of soda, Jack peeled off his layers, removing his overcoat and scarf and finally loosening his tie, and opening the top button of his shirt. He caught her watching him as she cut up some lemon.

He cleared his throat. ‘I think we unearthed a good lead tonight.’

‘Good,’ she said — too fast, as though she knew she’d been caught staring.

‘Well, good and bad. It hasn’t actually led us much further yet.’

She nodded. ‘It will.’

‘It has to,’ he said, sitting and then rubbing his face with frustration. ‘Time is running out for me. I’ve avoided my chief inspector for a couple of days but I reckon by tomorrow night he’ll be roasting me over a spit.’

She dropped wedges of lemon into the ice and then squeezed one wedge over everything.

Restless, Jack stood up again and walked over to the kitchen counter where she was working. ‘I feel helpless.’

She leaned over and touched his hand that was resting on the dark green granite bench-top. ‘That’s not just you, Jack, that’s every DCI working a murder operation. I’ve spoken to enough officers to know that all of you, at some stage, feel helpless. And then something gives and there’s a glimmer of
light. You’re understandably experiencing additional pressure because of your relationship with the latest victim. Jack, you have to allow yourself a little slack now and then.’

He looked at the small, slim hand covering his, and felt its warmth and softness threaten to unravel all that he’d been holding together so tightly. She may not have noticed his glance and his hesitation, but she moved her hand almost as quickly as she’d placed it there.

‘Cheers,’ she said.

He raised his soda, its ice clinking against the heavy glass of the tumbler, and touched it to hers. ‘To happy endings.’

Jane walked around the bench and he found himself instantly too close to her, especially so soon after that brief but intimate moment he’d deliberately let go. He could see she felt it too. Guilt over Lily raged against his need for just a moment of escape from the grief; a moment of affection to allay his anger.

‘Would you like to sit down, Jack?’ Jane no longer sounded quite so confident or breezy. There was a thickness in her voice, anticipation in her tone. More than anything, Jack sensed a question hanging over them.

Should he answer it … or ignore its existence?

Jack put his glass down next to hers and in the pause that followed he knew that the last thing Jane Brooks wanted to do right now was sit down and talk about Lily’s death. Frankly, neither did he want to — at this moment — rehash how it felt to lose Lily, or discuss previous cases, or rake over the reasons Jack was feeling so kicked in the guts.

He looked at her directly and answered. ‘Not really. I’d prefer to simply hold you.’

She didn’t overreact and she certainly didn’t look taken aback by his response. Perhaps it was the professional in her kicking into gear, although the way her eyes widened ever so slightly and a smudge of colour flared at her cheeks gave him an inkling that Dr Brooks needed to hold him just as badly.

‘Would it help?’ she asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

‘I’m sure it would.’

‘It’s not in the psychiatrist’s book of rules, of course.’

‘I’ve never lived by the rules,’ Jack said, refusing to engage in any more banter and instead reaching for her and pulling her close.

She didn’t resist him; in fact her arms were around his neck as tightly as his encircled her delicate frame.

They said nothing for a long time, until Jack, putting his cheek against hers, uttered the truth: ‘I think I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you.’

She smiled, this time self-consciously. ‘This is very wrong of me, Jack. Please forgive me.’ She pulled her arms away from him and leaned her elbows on the bench, so she was no longer touching him. ‘I should terminate our meeting right now.’ She looked down, and he could see how upset she was.

Jack raised her chin. ‘You did nothing. I did it. I’m the needy one.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s odd, I have a lot of friends but the only person I could rely upon to give me a comforting hug without consequences is my sister — and she’s 10,000 miles away.’

Dr Brooks shook her head sadly. ‘You’d be surprised about my neediness.’

He stood back, frowning, but took her hand. ‘How unhappy are you?’

‘Does it show that much?’

‘You cover it well.’

‘Well, to answer your question I hate the pretence that my life has become.’ He waited. ‘I’m married in name only. We’re strangers otherwise; have been for so many years I’ve lost count of the anniversaries we’ve not bothered to celebrate.’

‘I hope you’ve had affairs, then, because no one as bright and lovely as you should go without love.’

She seemed awkward for the first time in his company. ‘There haven’t been any affairs,’ she said quietly. ‘You were nearly my first.’

‘Why no men?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t think I have the stamina for what it takes, to be honest. Finding a man is easy enough, I’m sure, but finding a decent man is hard work and I’m not a one-night stand kind of person. If it
happened
that way, it would be all right — but what I mean is, I couldn’t go out searching for someone simply to have sex.’ She forced a laugh. ‘I’m a bit old-fashioned, I suppose. I need things to be meaningful, even a one-night-only event. Does that sound crazy?’

He shook his head. ‘Not at all. I’m pretty convinced most women of your age and standing in life feel the same. I think I feel that way too.’

‘Really?’

The question surprised him slightly. He tipped his head to one side as he regarded her. ‘Don’t be so astonished. Meaningless sex leaves me cold and one-night stands tend to make me feel hollow the next morning, especially when I know I’ve got absolutely no intention of seeing her again. I gave those up years ago.’

‘I think I already knew that about you.’

He pulled further away. ‘I should go. Would you like me to leave?’

She looked up at him now and shook her head. ‘Definitely not, although you probably should. We should both stop right now, except I want you to kiss me … but I don’t want to hurt you, or make you feel guilty, Jack.’

‘Are you sure, Jane?’

‘I’ve never been more sure about anything,’ she said firmly. ‘But Jack, you’re the one who needs to be sure. I want this for purely selfish reasons of need, desire, lust, longing … call it what you will. I have no demon to answer to. You will, though. In fact —’

She didn’t finish whatever she was going to say because Jack stopped her with a kiss. Jane’s arms were back around his neck, and he pulled her close feeling her slender, toned body against his. Finally parting, they rested their foreheads together as he stroked her silky dark hair.

Jane laughed softly, embarrassment and delight playing across her elegant features.

‘Now that’s what I call therapy,’ Jack murmured. ‘Exactly what I needed this evening.’

‘Me too — and I apologise right now for the guilt you’ll feel later,’ she admitted. ‘Jack, I can’t remember when I was last kissed like that.’

‘You should always be kissed like that.’ Their lips found each other again; his tongue tenderly, softly exploring her mouth, resisting the urge to crush himself against her to alleviate his pain. He could feel shame and anger rising inside him, and sadness too that threatened to engulf him.

She was too intelligent not to sense it. ‘It’s okay. Jack,’ she said, pulling away to caress his face. ‘I understand what’s driving this. I don’t expect you to
need me or love me. I’m happy to be your release valve because it helps me too.’

Jack’s expression turned uncertain. ‘I don’t want to use you. I feel so much for you. But right now I —’ His phone rang. He looked torn.

‘You’d better get that,’ she said.

He reached into his pocket and fished out the mobile, feeling the ache of desire demanding to be answered and yet none of his guilt dissipating. How could he do this so soon after Lily’s death? He hated himself in that moment as he glanced at the screen. It was Geoff’s number.

He pushed it back into his pocket. ‘Let it go to voicemail. It’s just a friend.’

They stared at each other, the tension taut between them.

‘Jack,’ she began gently.

But he shook his head. ‘Don’t,’ he cautioned. ‘I want to … need to.’

She smiled crookedly. ‘So do I. I’ve always wanted to be carried to my bedroom by a tall, dark and handsome man.’

‘Is that your fantasy?’

‘It’s every woman’s fantasy, Jack Hawksworth. You don’t know how many dreams you could answer.’

He lifted her effortlessly. They moved across the room and Jack ignored the beep in his pocket that told him a voice message had just arrived. ‘Am I meant to kick down the door as well? Is that part of the fantasy?’

‘Hmmm, no,’ she said, reaching down to press on the handle. ‘Nor do I need to be flung down on the bed.’

‘Might throw out the neck, you mean?’

They both began to laugh, alleviating the tension, the guilt, ready now to take the next step, tugging eagerly at each other’s clothing. Jane giggled as Jack struggled with her unco-operative shirt fastening.

‘They’re press-studs, you just rip them!’ she urged.

As he did so, revealing her small full breasts, so lusciously inviting, his phone began ringing again.

She gave a sigh of resignation and he groaned as she gently pushed him away. ‘That phone gets answered before this,’ she said, and he could see she was desperately trying to help him to be responsible.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. Answer it.’

He pulled out the phone, frustrated, and was irritated to see it was Geoff again. ‘Fuck off, Geoff,’ he murmured.

‘Would he normally hassle you?’

‘No.’

‘Then it’s important. Answer it.’

He pressed the button. ‘Yes, mate, not a good time.’

‘Sorry, Hawk. This is important.’

‘Where are you?’ he asked, expecting his friend to say the Inner Hebrides or some far-flung highland village.

‘Stoke Newington, outside DI Carter’s house.’

Jack took a moment to process the information. It was the last response on earth he’d expected from Geoff Benson. ‘Kate Carter’s house, you mean?’

‘Kate Carter, yes! Where are you?’

‘I’m in Spitalfields, er, in the middle of one of my sessions with Dr Brooks.’ He glanced, embarrassed, at Jane, who was already doing up her silk shirt.