Dead of Winter (18 page)

I
n his office two days later, Karl was reading an inside page of a newspaper, a wry smile on his face, when Naomi entered the room.

‘What’s so amusing, Karl?’

‘Huh? Oh, just reading about three men shot dead in an
apparent
mob killing in America.’

Naomi shook her head, clearly disgusted. Making fun of the dead always made her uncomfortable. Even after all this time with Karl, she still found his gallows sense of humour grating at times. ‘And that’s funny?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Karl, flipping the page to show Naomi. ‘But the headline is.’

Belfast-type shooting in Chicago.

‘Belfast-type…?’ Naomi frowned.

‘The irony of it. You’d be too young to remember all the
headlines
here, when someone was shot dead. It was always “Chicago-type
shooting in Belfast”. Good to see the Americans getting a well-deserved dig at our sanctimonious editorial writers.’

‘Karl, do you think it was bad of me, the way I treated and spoke about Jemma – I mean Sarah?’

‘So that’s what’s been bothering you the last couple of days? Look, Naomi, you’ve no reason to feel guilty. I can assure you Sarah wasn’t offended, and if–’

On cue, Karl’s mobile phone began ringing on the table. Scooping the phone up, he checked the number displayed. He didn’t recognise it. He didn’t like getting phone calls from
numbers
he didn’t recognise. They were either a scam wishing to take his money, or scum wishing to take his life.

He sat the phone back down, and went back to studying the newspaper.

The phone continued ringing. Karl continued reading.

‘Aren’t you going to answer that, Karl?’

‘Let them waste their time. They’ll give up before I do.’

The phone stopped ringing.

Karl smiled. ‘See, Naomi? Vindicated. Patience is a virtue when you don’t–’

It started ringing again.

‘Answer or turn it off,’ said Naomi. ‘If you think I’m going to listen to that all day, you’ve another think coming.’

Karl picked up the annoying piece of plastic. ‘Hello?’

‘Karl?’ said a female voice at the other end. The voice sounded hesitant.

‘Who’s speaking, please?’

‘Desiree…Desiree Wilson.’

Karl’s face tightened into a knot. His heart gave a quick jerk.

Naomi whispered.
‘What’s wrong? Who is it?’

Karl shook his head, indicating quietness. ‘Hello…Desiree. This is an unexpected call. It’s been a long time.’

‘Yes…a long time, Karl…’

Karl could hear the hesitancy in her voice. even clearer now.

‘What can I do for you, Desiree?’

‘I…I’d like to talk with you, if that’s possible? I know…I know how busy you must be, but…’

‘Not so busy that I can’t make time. When would suit?’

There was another lull. Karl imagined her being prompted by someone. Probably Wilson, sitting there beside her.

‘As soon as possible,’ she finally said.

‘How about today? Three in the afternoon, or thereabouts, here at my office?’

‘Three, at your office…?’ The lull again. ‘Yes, that would be great, Karl. Thank you. Thank you so much.’

‘See you then, Desiree.’ Karl clicked off the phone.

‘Desiree?’ said Naomi.

‘Why do you always make that strange face when it’s a
woman
’s name? Had it been a Desmond, you wouldn’t have batted an eyelid.’

‘Because it’s always your female clients that spell trouble for the business. The men always pay upfront, but a sob story from a woman and payment is on the never-never.’

‘Ten seconds ago, you were filled with guilt about Sarah Cohen. Didn’t take you too long to hit your stride again.’

‘Who is this
Desiree
, anyway, and what does she want?’ Naomi folded her arms in battle-ready mode.

‘I can tell you who she is, but what she wants may be a bit
trickier. A whole lot trickier, in fact…’

It was touching three o’clock when Desiree Wilson was guided into Karl’s office by Naomi. Over Desiree’s shoulders, Karl could see the look on Naomi’s face, and it wasn’t the one of warm
welcome
she normally held for most clients. Seconds later, Naomi closed the door behind her, leaving Karl and Desiree alone.

Karl debated on offering Desiree one of those ridiculous
womanly
air-kisses or a manly handshake. He opted for neither,
offering
a chair instead.

‘It’s been a long time, Karl,’ said Desiree, sitting down. To Karl, she clearly appeared on edge.

‘I think the last time I saw you, Desiree, was at your wedding reception, all those years ago.’

Desiree nodded. ‘Hard to believe, isn’t it?’

Desiree Cunningham – as she was known back then – was a natural beauty, and always reminded Karl of a young Grace Kelly. She had flowing blonde hair and steel-blue eyes, capturing the attention of any healthy male within a ten-mile radius. Karl always regarded himself as extremely healthy in those days, plus he only lived five miles away.

As she looked nervously at him from across the desk, he had to admit that the years had been kind to Desiree Wilson and that she still had a face to die for. But the million dollar question on Karl’s mind was: was it a face to kill for?

‘Would you like some coffee, Desiree, or something a wee bit stronger?’

‘No…no, thank you. I stopped drinking alcohol a long time ago, when I met…’ She didn’t finish the sentence.

It was easy for Karl to fill in the blanks.

‘This is a nice place you have here, Karl,’ small-talked Desiree, glancing about the tiny office.

‘Good job I don’t have a damn cat. Wouldn’t be much room to swing one.’

Desiree’s face broke into a tiny grin.

‘I know I shouldn’t be smiling, but remember the time Lynne threw Agatha at you?’

‘Sixteen stitches to my gob makes it hard to forget. I still carry some of the scars.’ Karl returned the smile. ‘I always hated that cat. It was as creepy as Lynne – and that’s saying something. I suppose she told you all about it?’

‘No, it was Mark, in fact. Know what she told him?’

‘What?’

‘Quote: “That bastard Karl Kane said that’s the last time I’ll ever throw my pussy at him.” Mark almost fainted, poor thing.’ Desiree laughed out loud. ‘
Did
you actually say that?’

Karl nodded. ‘One of my better quips, I have to admit. It sort of eased the pain on my face, at the time.’

‘I know what went on with you and Lynne, Karl, why you broke up, but I’m just glad to see you found someone nice. Naomi’s a very pretty girl. Doesn’t look anything like Lynne described.’

‘I can imagine Lynne’s description of Naomi,’ said Karl. ‘Well, enough about my exciting life. What exactly can I do for you, Desiree?’

‘Well…’ Desiree seemed to be gathering her thoughts. ‘It’s about Mark, and you. This…this never-ending conflict.’

‘You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.’

Suddenly, a little zing of tension entered the room, slipping between them.

‘Mark showed me the letter from the detective, the one found dead in the docks.’

‘Edward Phillips was his name.’

‘Edward Phillips. Yes.’

‘And?’

‘I know what you’re accusing Mark of doing, Karl.’ Her face cringed with distaste.

‘I didn’t accuse Mark of anything – yet.’

‘Okay, you
hinted
he had something to do with Harry’s death. That’s preposterous. You think I wouldn’t know if Mark was somehow involved?’

‘I don’t know the answer to that, Desiree. What I do know from bitter experience is that length of time spent with someone doesn’t necessarily make us experts on that person – especially if they have secrets they want hidden.’

‘You’re talking about Lynne’s unfaithfulness, aren’t you? You think Mark and I were having an affair, and that somehow led to Harry’s death?’ Desiree’s face stiffened defensively.

‘I didn’t say that, but if the hat fits…’

‘That’s not fair, Karl. Just because Lynne was unfaithful, doesn’t mean every woman is.’

‘I know that, Desiree. It wasn’t just the affair Lynne was having, but the fact she was having it with a woman, was the kicker.’

Desiree’s face flushed crimson. She looked gobsmacked. Her mouth opened to say words, but none came.

A wry smile appeared on Karl’s face. ‘I’m sorry if I shocked you.’

‘I…I didn’t know. Lynne or Mark never said it was a woman…’

‘No, not something one shouts from the rooftop in Victoria
Square, is it? But your lovely hubby Mark knew. That’s what I mean about secrets, Desiree. They’re a bit like matryoshka dolls. There’s always
another
one hidden inside. Somewhere. But
someone
always discovers the secret, sooner or later.’

‘The way you said that. You think
I
had something to do with Harry’s death?’ She looked shocked.

‘I never said that, either.’

‘By inference, you did.’ Desiree’s calm voice was slowly
gaining
a high pitch. ‘You think that I could be somehow involved in what happened to Harry? Or that Mark had him killed so that he could marry me? That’s sick.’

Desiree stood abruptly, knocking over the chair she had been sitting on. Her face went from red to pale in seconds. ‘Mark warned me not to try and convince you. He said you wouldn’t listen to reason and that you’re very sick and bitter. Want to know something, Karl? He’s right. You
are
a very sick individual, but I’m warning you that if you continue to–’

The office door flew open. Naomi stood in the doorway, her face filled with thunder. ‘You don’t warn anyone under this roof,
Mrs
Wilson. Your time is up. Leave –
now
.’

Desiree stared at Naomi, and then at back to Karl’s
expressionless
face.

‘Both of you are well suited,’ said Desiree, walking quickly past Naomi and out the front door.

It was ten seconds before Karl spoke. ‘What kind of way is that to speak to a potential client? Thought you had changed?’

‘She’s lucky I only used
words
to chase her out. I was always told to respect my
elders
.’

‘Oh, Naomi Kirkpatrick, you little minx!’ Karl stood and
walked over to her. ‘Put those claws away before you do some damage.’

Naomi smiled. ‘I did okay, didn’t I?’

‘You sure did, kiddo.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘You sure as hell did.’

‘What do you think?
Is
she guilty?’

‘I don’t really know. One thing I do know, though, is that
terminology
is a great thing for revealing what exactly is inside a person’s head.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She never once described the killing of Harry as murder. At the very least, she’s guilty of diminishing what happened to him. A word misplaced can speak volumes. It can also come back to haunt us.’

Just as he finished the sentence, his phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Mister Kane? This is Detective Chambers.’

‘And?’

‘I just wanted to call and let you know that Charley
Montgomery
has been released from custody, unconditionally, and cleared of all involvement in the killing of Kevin Johnson. Johnson’s main rival, Frankie Murphy, is to be charged with the killing. One of Murphy’s thugs, Paddy O’Neill, who was arrested last week for an unrelated murder, has decided to cut a deal and give evidence against his former boss. According to O’Neill, Murphy got fed up with Johnson infringing on his territory once too often.’

‘I’m not going to say I told you so, even if I told you so,’ Karl said. ‘Paddy O’Neill, eh? Another so-called hard man who can do the crime but not the time. At least poor Charley’s out to go back
to what he does best: shooting people in the back. Very noisy, but not as interesting as chopping hands off.’

‘Well, I just wanted to call and let you know,’ Chambers said. ‘Good day, Mister Kane.’

‘Look, before you go… listen… thanks for informing me on the happenings. You didn;t have to do that. I appreciate it. You… you’re not a bad cop, which is a good thing.’

‘Coming from you, I think that’s what constitutes praise. Thank you, Mister Kane. Have a good day.’

As soon as the call ended, Karl felt the echo of Chambers’ smile in his ears.

‘K
arl? There’s someone here to see you. A woman,’ said Naomi, standing at the office door. It was two days after the visit from Desiree Wilson.

‘Has she an appointment?’ Karl didn’t even bother looking up from the newspaper. ‘If not, tell her to make one and I’ll–’

‘Karl?’
said Naomi, almost in a hush.

Slowly Karl’s eyes panned away from the newspaper, and onto Naomi’s troubled face.

‘What? What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.’‘

‘Says her name is Judith Levy, and that it’s important she sees you.’

‘More important than tomorrow’s race?’

Naomi didn’t answer; simply left the room and a puzzled Karl.

A few seconds later, a woman entered.

‘Mister Kane?’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘My name’s
Judith Levy.’

Karl was shocked by what he saw. The woman was almost a duplicate of Sarah Cohen, but with the most startling
combination
of eyes he had ever seen. One green. One blue. Eyes that the late, unlamented Harold Taylor would have recognised as belonging to a woman called Kerry Morgan.

‘I’m sorry…’ said Karl. ‘I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just…you remind me of someone.’

A faint smile appeared on Judith’s face. ‘My sister. Sarah Cohen. You knew her as Jemma Doyle, I believe.’

‘Yes, Jemma Doyle…’ Karl nodded slowly. ‘You were twins?’

‘Sarah’s…’ Judith hesitated. ‘Sarah was older than me by a couple of years. People often mistook us for twins.’

‘Please, won’t you sit down, Judith? Can I get you an early morning cup of something?’

‘No thank you,’ said Judith, sitting down.

‘First, allow me to offer my condolences to you and all your family, Judith. I was saddened to hear the terrible news about Sarah.’

‘Sarah had great faith in you, Mister Kane. Said you were a good man and a very trustworthy person.’

‘I like the sound of that, but there are plenty of people in Belfast who’d disagree with that statement.’

‘My brother, Malachi, would probably be one of those people.’

‘Your brother?’

‘You met him at the funeral. You shook hands, apparently.’

‘Oh, yes. He threatened to kill me – a couple of times,’ said Karl, almost blasé.

Judith’s face reddened deeply. ‘Malachi’s always been a
hothead
.
His bark has always been worse than his bite.’

‘Thank god he’s not a dog.’

‘He left for Europe, two days ago. He has no intention of ever coming back.’

‘Hopefully, my talk with him had something to do with it. In all honesty, can’t say I blame him, under the circumstances.’ Karl straightened his large frame in the chair. ‘Now, what exactly can I do for you, Judith?’

‘I’ve come here to apologise.’

‘Apologise?’ A bemused look appeared on Karl’s face. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘For what my family did to you…at the abattoir.’

‘The abattoir?’

‘I can understand you being suspicious, and not wishing to talk about–’

‘I’m not suspicious,’ said Karl, immediately becoming
suspicious
.

‘I was sitting with Sarah, watching TV, the night your picture was sent to her via Malachi’s mobile phone, asking to confirm if the picture was you. Sarah was horrified at what the family had done to you – we both were.’

Something wary kicked Karl in the stomach. ‘To be honest with you, Judith, I can’t really go into that. It was part of a case I was…investigating. I can’t divulge any information, because it comes under client confidentiality. Don’t be insulted. If the cops asked, they would get the same reply.’

‘Do you know what it’s like to kill a person, Mister Kane, or at the very least to be responsible for their death, no matter how evil that person may have been?’

The question almost knocked Karl off his seat.

‘That’s a strange question to ask someone, Judith.’

‘You know of the murder of Sarah’s three children, in Ballymena?’

‘Bits and pieces, eventually, but only because it came up when Sarah’s death had been reported and the media gave some history into the terrible fire.’

‘The children – Benjamin, Nora and Judith – died horribly, despite brave attempts by Sarah and neighbours to rescue them. Sarah was scarred for life, mentally as well as physically. Her
husband
committed suicide shortly after that, blaming himself for being on a business trip, rather than at home to help…’

Karl could see sadness, an ache that appeared as a dull light in Judith’s eyes. It was the same sadness he had witnessed in her sister.

‘Why was Sarah’s house and family targeted?’

‘Simply because she was a Jew. Four men – all part of a neo-Nazi gang – were involved, and eventually rounded up by the police. At the so-called trial, all four were acquitted, even though the dogs in the street knew they had committed the murders.’

‘Unfortunately, Judith, that wasn’t the first miscarriage of
justice
.’ Karl shook his head with disgust. Thought of his mother’s murder and subsequent farce of a trial with its indefensible
outcome
. ‘In all probability, it won’t be the last.’

‘All that was left from the charred remains was an old wall clock, still working perfectly. My father kept it in the abattoir as a witness on those involved in the murders. He wanted them to hear its accusing
tick tock
…’

Karl scratched at a nicotine patch on his arm, wishing for a cig
between his fingers. In his head, he thought he heard the clock ticking.

‘My father changed the day the murderers were acquitted, Mister Kane, saying he was no longer willing to be an invisible Jew. When…when we started out, seeking justice for the children, I was all for it – we all were. Little did we know what a disaster it would turn out to be.’ Judith looked intently at Karl. ‘You’re probably sitting there, thinking how disgustingly evil I am?’

‘No…not at all…’

‘You’re an intelligent man, Mister Kane. I don’t suppose it took you too long to realise that Thomas Blake wasn’t Sarah’s uncle.’

‘I wouldn’t oversell the intelligence product, Judith. Intelligence for me is more of a consequence than an option. What was Blake’s role in all this?’

‘He struck the first match. Harold Taylor was the lookout. Billy Brown supplied the petrol. Brown was the first to pay for his deeds.’

‘Why was Brown’s hand dumped at my door?’ said Karl, suspecting he already had the answer.

Judith’s pale face reddened slightly. ‘It wasn’t planned that way. Things happened.’

‘Like a squad car at the top of the street?’

Judith looked taken aback at Karl’s knowledge. ‘Yes…’

‘Why the hand thing? Why not the entire body?’

‘An eye for an eye.
If your right hand cause you to sin, cut it off and throw it away,’
Mister Kane. That’s what my father’s dictum became.’

‘Yes, well, if we applied that to everyone in Belfast, there’d be
an awful lot of hands floating on the Lagan.’

‘That’s the statement our father lived by. It was also a message; a psychological message to the gang members, hoping to flush them out.’

‘What was the significance of the number eighty-eight on the hands?’

Judith seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before replying. ‘The 8 stands for the eighth letter of the alphabet,
H
. Coupled together, 88 or
HH
stands for
Heil Hitler
.’ She said the last two words as if she had just tasted poison.

‘Sick bastards.’

‘Not sick,’ corrected Judith. ‘Evil.’

‘You said four men were involved in the children’s murders. So far you’ve only mentioned three.’

‘Nigel Potts. Unfortunately, we know nothing of his
whereabouts
. We suspect he was the leader. There was talk of a fifth man, but he was never named.’

‘If you’ve come to ask me to find this Potts, then you’ve wasted your journey, Judith. Had I known what Sarah was seeking Blake
for
, I would never have searched for him, even though I don’t have sleepless night over what happened. He was a scumbag, and got everything that was coming in his direction.’

‘No, we don’t want you to search for Potts. It’s all over. The ghastly vengeance is all over. I came here to apologise, and I’ve done that. Just like my brother, my husband and I are planning to make a new start elsewhere.’ Judith stood to leave.

‘And your father? He agrees with your decision?’

‘My father? Oh…you mustn’t have heard. He’s dead. Killed.’

‘What…?’ The news shocked Karl, but not as much as the
fatigued calmness of Judith’s voice. ‘When? How?’

‘A hit-and-run, as he walked home, almost a week ago.
Thankfully
, he didn’t suffer, dying almost instantly.’

‘I’m…I’m sorry to hear that, Judith. I truly am. I can’t
understand
why I didn’t hear anything about it in the news.’

‘It was reported in the local paper, but the bigger papers didn’t bother with it. Why would they? After all, he had become
invisible
again in their eyes.’ Judith put out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Mister Kane, and thank you.’

‘Can I call you a taxi or anything?’ said Karl, shaking the hand.

‘No, it’s okay. My husband’s parked illegally outside your office, watching for the ticket wardens.’

‘Goodbye, Judith. Take care of yourself…always.’

He watched her from the office window, approaching a car. A solemn-faced driver got out, opening the door. He kissed her gently on the face, and she smiled that sad smile. The man was tall and muscularly built, dressed fashionably. Seconds later, he closed the car door behind her, but not before looking directly at

Karl, nodding an acknowledgement or appreciation. Karl watched the car disappear down the narrow stretch of Hill Street’s cobbled stones, hoping that was the last time he would ever see Starman again.