Cold Justice (2 page)

‘Thought you had work to finish?’ He was irritated, anxious to the point that she thought he looked ready to cry or scream or down the bottle of wine he’d already had two large glasses from since they’d got back from the funeral.

‘Yes, I have. But I’ll take it with me.’ Lauren worked for an American drugs company. She was writing up her research project on dementia drugs. ‘We could all do with a change of scenery – even the dog,’ she said. ‘It’s funny how he left instructions about the dog, about the funeral, about what he wanted doing with his bloody ashes, but not about his estate.’

She looked at Toby’s face – so pale in the low winter sun that was making him squint. He looked like a lost boy. She hated to see him in such misery.

‘You’ll never get it done there,’ he said, more to himself than Lauren.

Lauren watched Samuel playing with his toys on the floor. He was a quiet boy, sensitive, anxious and very bright; a lot like his father. He was so bright but he rarely smiled.

‘We should let the dog out; it can’t do any harm,’ said Lauren.

‘We’re not allowed dogs in the flat. Anyway, we don’t know if it will turn on Samuel,’ he replied.

‘It’s a tiny dog – not exactly a Rottweiler.’ Lauren smiled. ‘I feel sorry for it.’

‘It’s a terrier – they can be really snappy when they’re old,’ Toby retorted.

‘But it’s only four. We have all its papers from the hotel. Anyway, it’s been with us a month and it still barely comes out of its cage. There we go – the dog needs a holiday. It’s more stressed than the rest of us . . . Settled! Samuel? Shall we go on vacation?’ Samuel looked up at his mother and nodded. She got a tissue from a box on the coffee table and wiped his runny nose. ‘Shall we build sandcastles? See some little fishes in the sea? Throw a ball for Russell? Have some fun?’

He nodded as he watched her facial expressions and tried to mimic them. She kissed him and reached behind her head to unpin her hair. She rubbed her scalp as her hair unwound itself into a bob, short fringe. She didn’t wear make-up as a rule. She had one colour lipstick and it was the one she’d worn on their wedding day. It was pink. She was wearing it today. Toby didn’t look at her; he had a frown on his face. Lauren watched his face contort as he grew more anxious. He was chewing the inside of his cheek.

‘Toby, shall we just go to Cornwall now? I mean, why wait till tomorrow? What do you think? We only need to pack a few things. We’ll wash stuff down there.’

‘Can we think about it tomorrow, please?’ There was an exasperated, persecuted edge to his voice.

‘Yes . . . of course.’ Lauren accepted the setback, walked across to her desk and opened her laptop, but changed her mind as Toby walked back into the kitchen. She followed him and stood watching as he poured another glass of wine. ‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’ Toby finished pouring himself the large glass of red and took a swig.

She smiled but her eyes remained watchful. ‘Did you know many people at the service?’ Toby answered with a shake of the head. ‘I recognized one of the names at the end when people came past and paid their respects. I saw that man, Stokes, who’s been bothering us about your father’s house. You’d think he’d leave us alone at a time like this.’

She went to find the letter from her desk in the corner of the lounge. ‘Yeah, here it is – Martin Stokes. He wants to know whether we’ve changed our mind about letting it out. He has to return a lot of deposits, he says. He implies that we’ll have to meet the cost if we do that. I don’t see why, unless your dad kept the deposits. I suppose that’s possible.’ She sighed. ‘Christ . . .’ She looked to Toby for a reaction but he didn’t speak. ‘He also says that a private purchaser from the village would like to make us an offer for the house of five hundred thousand – contents not included.’ Lauren shook her head incredulously. ‘They must be joking; we know it’s worth a million? What do they want with it?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Let’s tell Stokes we want it left empty,’ she said. ‘We need to go and have a proper look at it. The quicker we sort out your dad’s estate the better. I have no worries about getting rid of the house in Cornwall but we may not be able to afford to keep it, if we have to pay death duties.’

Toby looked her way briefly then turned away as he said, ‘We will have to; it doesn’t look like he had any money at all.’ He gazed out of the kitchen window down the three storeys towards the street and the parking spaces below them. A woman was struggling past with a buggy. The wind whipped through the new tower blocks and the ones under construction. There were tastefully designed walkways and children’s playgrounds, even a new Waitrose store at the entrance to the complex. It was all very new.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It doesn’t look good; I mean, it doesn’t look like he had any money. I went to his flat . . . he doesn’t have much antique-wise. I saw nothing we can hope to sell.’

Lauren knew her husband didn’t want to make eye contact with her. He busied himself setting his iPad up.

‘We said we’d go together.’

‘I didn’t want to bother you.’ He glanced up as she heard the familiar jingle of the iPad starting. ‘You were at work.’

‘I think I should be involved. Two heads better than one and all that?’ Her mouth formed a half-smile. Her eyes stayed cold.

He shrugged dismissively. ‘The solicitor has all the papers now, he’s handling it, not me, so we needn’t be concerned. Whatever has to be done, he will do it.’

‘What did you find there? What’s his place like?’

Toby stopped tapping on the keyboard and looked at her, irritated. ‘It’s a plush flat with a hot tub and a sauna. It’s the same sort of place as this, a riverside apartment with a view, but a hell of a lot more rent than this and a lot more view.’

‘What about all of his things?’

‘I don’t want anything.’

‘What? You are kidding me? Those are things that Samuel can inherit. Even if they aren’t worth anything – they have sentimental value.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about Samuel at the time. I certainly wasn’t feeling sentimental.’

‘I understand. Of course; but we are a family and one day Samuel might want to know about his granddad.’ She took a step towards Toby, almost reached out a hand to touch him, but stopped when she saw the look of hostility in his eyes.

‘Can you just leave it, for fuck’s sake. I told you I
would
handle it all. My problem, my fucking father. I’ll deal with it, all right? This is not about you or Samuel.’

Lauren looked stunned. She nodded meekly and retreated to the lounge.

Toby’s phone rang; he looked at the screen and went into the bedroom to answer it. Lauren heard him moving about the bedroom and talking on the phone. After ten minutes he came back into the lounge with his coat on. Lauren was back at her desk, Samuel was playing with some Duplo pieces.

‘Where are you going? Who was that on the phone?’

‘It was work. They wanted to tell me my new exhibits are up and running. I thought I’d go and have a look. I’ll take Samuel out and give you some peace. We’ll have a wander and come back in time for his tea. Samuel will like it up there in the Observatory.’

‘Really? Okay, if you feel like it, that would be great. You better take him a biscuit. He usually needs feeding after a nap. He’ll probably fall asleep for an hour in the buggy.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get him something. There’s plenty in the café to eat and plenty of people to make a fuss of him.’

‘Okay, but he’s getting a cold, I think. His face looks flushed,’ said Lauren.

‘The fresh air will do him good. He could do with hardening up.’

‘Fresh? In the middle of London?’ As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. Toby turned away. Lauren swivelled back round. ‘I’ve just emailed the man, Stokes, about the house in Cornwall, confirming that we need it left empty for now. Let’s go down tomorrow, like I said. I need to finish this piece today then maybe we can have a stress-free evening. Are you sure you’re happy to go out? I must admit it would help me concentrate enough to get this work done.’

‘Yes, of course. It’s only two thirty. We won’t be long.’

‘All right, baby, if you’re sure. Take the dog.’

‘I can’t. He’ll be a nuisance and he won’t be allowed into work. I’ll take him out when I get back.’

Lauren knelt before Samuel and pulled up the zipper on his all-in-one suit. Samuel stared down at his front as he pressed one of the appliquéd snow-flakes on the front of the suit.

‘Grandma give it to me.’

‘Yes. You lucky boy.’ She kissed him.

‘And Grandma give me this . . .’ He frowned and tugged at his snowflake mittens threaded on a string through the arms of his suit. ‘From A-merr-icka.’

‘Yes. That’s right.’ She pulled on his hat and then his mittens. ‘Be a good boy for Daddy.’

He nodded enthusiastically.

Lauren attacked her work with full concentration for an hour. Then she became distracted. The wind got up outside and the day turned stormy and prematurely dark. She reached for her phone. She’d just give Toby a call and see that Samuel wasn’t too cold out there. There was no answer.

She stood and went to the window. The view of the Thames was lost in the downpour. She glanced down at the street below.

She looked at the phone in her hand. He must have gone inside, she reassured herself. Samuel would be warm in the Observatory. Maybe Toby was right – she babied him too much. But, after all, there would never be a brother or sister for Samuel.

Her eyes looked back down to the road below. A woman had stopped and was staring up at her – her face was partly covered with a black scarf. She had a hood pulled up over her head and was standing with her hands in the pockets of her long dark coat. She looked immovable against the gusts of wind. One of the plants on the balcony blew over and crashed against the windowpane and Lauren jumped. When she looked back the woman had gone.

Lauren went back to her desk, but deep in her stomach she had the feeling of anxiousness, and it was growing. It was Samuel’s dinnertime now and after that she would run his bath. He’d have so many toys in there that there would be barely room for him. He’d play for ages filling up cups with water, making the waterwheels turn. Then she’d get him into his pyjamas, give him some warm milk and she’d read him stories and lie down beside him and drift off with him. That was her guilty pleasure, falling asleep next to him just for ten minutes or so, and then she’d creep out and Toby would have made her some dinner, poured her glass of wine and their adult time would begin.

The phone rang.

‘Toby? Where are you? It’s a quarter past five.’

‘Sorry we’re late. I’m coming up the street right now. It’s been hell trying to get through the crowds. There’s something wrong with the buggy’s steering.’

She laughed, relieved. ‘You’ll get used to it. I’ll meet you downstairs at the door.’

‘No need. I can manage.’

‘I want to.’

Lauren came out of their flat and took the lift down to the foyer. She nodded hello to the security guard and saw Toby, using his weight to pull the pram inside backwards. He managed to pull it so easily, she thought. It was always a struggle for her.

Lauren wanted to run over to Samuel. She wanted to take hold of him in her arms and kiss and cuddle him. She hated being apart from him but she knew she should be happy that Toby took him out on his own. She should be glad that he was showing an interest in his son at long last. She didn’t run, she walked across the foyer, past the pebbles and fountain and the reception desk. Toby was inside now. He turned the buggy forwards to push it towards her and he kept his eyes on hers. His shoulders were stiff. His gait awkward. She looked at his face and wanted to ask, ‘What’s the matter?’ Her eyes travelled down to his hands, down to the buggy and the loose strap on the seat. She felt her knees begin to give way. She felt her breath stop and her heart try to hammer blood round but it didn’t move. All time stopped. A heartbeat freeze-framed.

‘Where’s Samuel?’

Detective Inspector Dan Carter watched and waited for the group of officers to form a circle around him. It was seven thirty p.m. and the sky was black. The open doors of the police van offered a partial windbreak from the deep cold that skimmed icy breaths across the River Thames and gusted around the police officers searching the park. Carter was standing in the glare of the Maritime Museum at the base of Greenwich Park, waiting to address the newest search team. He looked across to where his partner, Detective Constable Ebony Willis, was standing, wearing her trademark black quilted jacket, but today she also had a black beanie hat pulled down over her ears. Her ponytail ballooned from beneath it, lifting in the gusts of wind and floating around her shoulders like a black shawl. She stood with a map in her hands. He knew she was working out the logistics of the search parties. He saw her taking in the layout of the park that rose above them in the darkness, covering nearly two hundred acres. The Royal Observatory was on the brow of the hill, above them. He wondered if she’d ever been up to the Observatory. He knew he hadn’t. It was on his list but one of those things tourists did rather than Londoners. He watched the torchlight of officers as they fanned out along the paths that crisscrossed the park. The noise from the busy streets nearby rolled constant in the background. Access to the park was closed to the public. In daylight they would start a fingertip search, for now they were just looking for a two-year-old boy who had managed to give his father the slip.

Carter stood tapping his right foot, without realizing, as the feeling of anxiety, the pressing need to act, made every second he was waiting feel like an hour wasted.

He pressed his hands deep into the pockets of his dark-grey overcoat as he focused on each one of the officers. Willis came across to join him, laying the map out on the floor of the van.

‘The last sighting of Samuel was in his buggy at ten minutes past four when he was seen leaving the Royal Observatory with his father Toby.’ Carter addressed the hundred officers who stood around him.