Last Kiss (24 page)

‘A pint and another bottle of that non-alcoholic stuff.’ Lynch turned to wave at Walsh.

‘I’ll get one of the lads to bring the pint down to your friend.’

‘Decent of you, Simon. Thanks.’ He took in the crowd. They didn’t so much exhibit pack mentality but formed smaller groups, not only the trannies but others too, along with plenty of loners. ‘What’s the story with the non-participants?’

‘Many start out that way. People like to look before they take the plunge. Everyone is different.’

‘Claudia tells me Rick Shevlin was one of your onlookers.’

‘I believe he was.’

‘He never partook in the main show, then?’ Lynch took a swig from his bottle of beer.

‘It wouldn’t have taken him long. You learn to judge these things.’

‘And he brought a couple of the girls from Connections with him?’

‘I’ve no problem, as long as they pay and don’t cause trouble.’

‘Were there any other lady friends?’

‘There was one he was keen on. She didn’t join in either, but went the whole way with her appearance, dressing mainly in leather, the way Rick liked them.’

‘Was she an escort?’

‘Don’t think so. I heard they linked up through some dating agency.’

‘She came here a few times, then?’

‘That’s right, but I haven’t seen her for a while.’

‘Since Rick snuffed it?’

‘I couldn’t be sure, but maybe so.’

Lynch leaned in closer. ‘Did she have a name?’

‘Cassie. At least, that’s the name she gave.’

‘Cassie what?’

‘Cassie4Casanova.’ He smirked.

‘What?’

‘It’s her online tag name. You know, like the lover.’

‘I don’t suppose you have any pictures of her? You know, snaps on the mobile phone, that kind of thing?’ He was fishing, but it never did any harm to ask.

‘We don’t allow cameras on the premises.’ He pointed to the charter hanging over the bar, including rules of no ‘frontal nudity’, and safety being in the hands of ‘dungeon monitors’, experienced players whose decisions were final. ‘But I can give you a description, if you want.’

‘Let’s go one step further, Simon. How about I send down one of our artists to chat with you? Together you can draw a nice picture.’

‘No problem. Always willing to help the police.’

The longer he talked, the more convinced Lynch became that Simon Reynolds was from a very comfortable background – his accent sounded like money, well-educated too, a regular entrepreneur. The classy voice probably helped pull in the richer punters. Lynch decided to finish his beer with Walsh.

‘How did you get on with your man?’ Walsh downed the end of the second pint.

‘Not bad. We might have a good lead.’

‘Jaysus, that’s great. Thanks for the beers. I owe you.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s go.’

Before reaching the exit door, Walsh said, ‘Hold on, I need to take a leak.’

‘Be careful in there.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s a reason this place is still legal. No sex visible on the premises, but behind closed doors and all that … I’d say there’s plenty of activity inside.’

Walsh gave him a look, a mix of caution and daring. ‘Do you want to take a leak too?’

Lynch had no intention of holding his colleague’s hand or anything else. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait for you here. If you don’t come out in five minutes, I’m leaving without you.’

EL PICAFLOR RESTAURANT was on the same street as the Hôtel Saint Christophe. From the outside, to Kate, it looked like a place you would walk straight past, and she wondered about the wisdom of leaving the choice of venue to Adam.

‘Less than twenty-five euros for a three-course meal with a drink on the house,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t get that in Dublin.’ He looked pleased with himself.

‘I guess that depends on the place.’ She sounded as apprehensive as she felt.

‘You’ve become far too sceptical. There’s a surprise in store for you.’

Sick with hunger, feeling overdressed in her black cocktail dress and high-heeled shoes, she wasn’t in the mood for surprises. He pushed open the glass-panelled doors, and once inside, although it wasn’t the Ritz, Kate was relieved it was filled with locals – always a good sign. As Adam tried to get the waiter’s attention, she looked around for a spare table. There wasn’t one. It was then she spotted the staircase downstairs, which was where the waiter indicated for them to go. The lower floor was a cellar with beautiful limestone walls, on which hung tiny lanterns and a scattering of framed images. Each of the round tables had a crisp white tablecloth, nicely dressed with chunky wine and water glasses, cutlery, and folded terracotta linen napkins.

‘I told you I had a surprise for you.’

‘It’s beautiful. I would never have guessed it from the outside.’

‘Don’t judge a book by the cover,’ he said. The waiter led them to a table at the far end. ‘Or if you’re not sure where to go,’ he whispered, ‘Google it.’

When the waiter handed them menus, one side was in French, the other in English. ‘I checked this too,’ he said, turning to the English version. ‘Always best to look after the small details.’

‘You’re a regular Boy Scout,’ she teased.

‘You look happy.’ He poured water for them both.

‘Do I?’

‘Yeah, and kind of different.’

‘Now I’m intrigued. Why do you say that?’

‘I don’t know. You’ve looked different since we arrived here. And tonight, Kate,’ he lowered his voice, ‘you look hot.’

She blushed like an adolescent, remembering how long she had spent getting ready. He caught her looking down at her dress. ‘It’s okay to take a compliment, you know.’

‘Are you psychoanalysing me, Detective?’

‘I like to say it as it is.’ Then, picking up the wine list, he beamed from ear to ear. ‘Red or white?’

‘I’m easy.’

‘Now, that’s dangerous talk. I’ll take my cue from you, and live a little dangerously. Let’s order the most expensive bottle in the house. It says here,’ pointing to a Merlot, ‘this one has a plum rich fragrance with a deep oak-barrelled taste.’

‘What about the bargain meal of twenty-five euros? I doubt the chief superintendent’s budget will stretch to sixty-five for a bottle.’

‘It’s my treat, Kate. It’s not often I get to be in Paris with a beautiful woman.’

She tucked her hair behind her ears, something she did when she was nervous. Tread carefully, she told herself, but all the time another voice inside her head was telling her to do the very opposite.

The food, like everything else about El Picaflor, was excellent, with delivery of the courses timed to perfection. They finished off with two large cognacs, which Adam reminded her were on the house. She felt increasingly at ease as the evening progressed, and it seemed he did too. For once, he didn’t talk about work. He had sent the details of the ex-students to Mark Lynch before leaving the hotel, so for now he couldn’t do any more. Kate swirled the end of her cognac in the glass, the aroma giving her a sense of warmth. She was pleased that during the meal he had
talked at length about his son. She had felt comfortable telling him about Charlie, too.

‘Would you like another cognac?’ he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

‘No, no, I’m fine. We’ve an early start in the morning.’

‘You can rest on the flight. Come on, we deserve to chill out.’

She looked around at the now half-filled cellar, everyone relaxed, soaking up the ambience.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Just the one.’

He waved to the waiter at the far end by the stairs, pointing to their empty glasses, raising his hand with two fingers, cutting through the language barrier.

When the drinks arrived, she kicked off her stilettos.

‘How are you doing, Kate?’ He warmed the large glass in his hand.

‘What do you mean?’

‘There are times, I don’t know, you seem sad.’

‘Do I? I don’t mean to.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Maybe I think too much.’

‘That can be hazardous, all right.’ He gave her a reassuring smile.

‘I didn’t mean to bring the evening down …’

‘No, no, you’re not.’

Silence.

She was thinking that perhaps the extra cognac hadn’t been such a great idea. Her head wasn’t in the right place for any of this. He must have sensed the drop in the atmosphere, because he said jokingly, ‘I used to be very shy, you know.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t believe that.’

‘It’s true. I’d go as red as a tomato if I had to say a word to a girl when I was in my teens.’

‘I bet you went to a single-sex school.’ She was glad they had moved onto a lighter topic.

‘Yeah – loaded with testosterone, it was.’ Then he lowered his voice: ‘The first girl I fell for, she didn’t even know I cared.’

‘My heart bleeds.’

‘She could have been the love of my life.’

‘Regret can be a terrible thing.’

‘Exactly, Kate. That’s why I now adopt the direct approach.’

‘Nothing wrong with being direct, as long as no one gets hurt.’

‘Kate, what you do, your job, I mean …’

‘What about it?’

‘Does it ever mess with your head?’

He’s back talking work, she thought. ‘Sometimes.’

‘In what way?’

She let out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know. I guess I look at people who are messed up, and I wish I could turn back the clock, bring them back to the beginning.’

‘Some people are born evil, Kate. It’s in their DNA.’

‘I’m not sure about that. There are genetic influences, for sure, but it’s like that experiment we were talking about earlier, the Tronick one.’

‘The one with the mother’s still face.’

‘The mother stripped herself of emotion, and the baby reacted within seconds, but do you know what the most frightening and upsetting part is?’

‘What?’

‘Not so much how upset the baby got, although that was tough. It was how the baby, even at twelve months old, turned its face and body away from the mother’s. It withdrew; a few minutes of apathy, and the baby’s life fundamentally changed.’

‘But it was all right when the mother interacted again.’

‘You asked me if my job ever messed with my head.’ She swallowed a large gulp of cognac, feeling the kick in her throat. ‘When I think about babies, young children, when I see the aftermath of messed-up, abusive domestic situations, or wonder what would have happened to that baby in the video if the mother had held that still face for longer, and ignored the child’s emotional needs on a systematic basis or, even worse, inflicted pain, emotional and/or physical, I think about the life that could have been. I also think about the aftermath, and the amount of pain that will ensue.’

‘You believe that’s what happened to the killer of Rick and Pierre?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘It’s too late for her, Kate. You do know that?’

‘As I said, often there is no turning back the clock.’ Again she looked around the cellar, taking in the faces of people at ease with themselves and their company. ‘Adam, our killer is damaged. She could potentially be the most dangerous person either of us has encountered.’

‘And you, Kate, what about your childhood?’

‘What about it?’

‘That thing you mentioned to me before – when you were twelve and you got separated from your friends and were attacked by that stranger.’

‘I got away, didn’t I? I wasn’t hurt.’

‘But it left its scars.’

‘I know it did.’ Another pause. ‘Do you know the worst thing about it all?’

‘Tell me.’ His voice was gentle.

‘I can’t remember his face.’

‘Is that not a good thing?’

‘You said I was attacked by a stranger.’ She took a deep breath. ‘What if he wasn’t a stranger? What if my mind played tricks on me? What if, in reality, I knew him, had always known him? He could even have been someone close to me. I could have blocked the memory out. It would explain why I can never recall his face. Yet I remember so many other details.’

‘You would know.’

‘No, I wouldn’t. The mind is capable of a great many things. It can trick you into believing whatever it wants to, especially if it needs to protect you.’

‘I wish I could turn back the clock for you, Kate.’

‘I don’t.’ She swirled the cognac in the glass. ‘The thing that happened to me, and all the other stuff along the way, has made me the person I am.’

‘You mean the bad stuff can make you stronger?’

‘I don’t know about stronger, but it forms part of who you are, and who you will become.’

‘Earlier on …’ he hesitated ‘… why did you get embarrassed when I complimented you?’

‘I guess I’m no longer used to getting compliments about how I look.’

‘It’s not about your makeup or your dress, or any of that.
I thought the same thing when we met at Reception earlier, before we went to the Hôtel du Maurier.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was caught unawares. It was like I was meeting you for the first time, and somehow I knew you would be part of my life.’ He laid his hand on her bare arm.

‘I don’t know if this is the right time.’ She stared back at him.

‘There’s never a right time.’

‘It’s not just Charlie, it’s me too. Things are still raw with Declan.’

‘Do you still love him?’ He took his hand away.

‘No, it’s not that, but it’s taken me a while to accept things. You don’t spend so long with someone, start a family together and do all the things we did without …’

‘Without what?’

‘Without beginning to doubt yourself, and your feelings, how one day you can be head over heels about someone and then it all changes. It gets harder to take that leap.’

‘You know as well as anyone that there are never any guarantees.’

Another silence.

‘Kate?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you know I would never do anything to purposely hurt you.’

‘I know that.’

‘I need you to take that chance, Kate. It’s time.’

She didn’t reply.

‘I’ll get the bill, shall I?’ he asked.

‘Why the hell not?’