Ice Blue (12 page)

But now. Now it was different, particularly
if she stuck by the decision both heart and brain steered her
toward. Dylan had rights. The selfish, stupid, prick-driven bastard
had rights, if he was going to be a father.

* * *

“How many times are you going to try to call
Dylan?” Henry asked. He was eating cereal, reading a book on the
constellations, and listening to the telly at the same time.

Kate snapped her mobile closed. “A million
billion times.”

“He’s screening his calls. Either that, or
he’s turned his phone off.” Henry shoveled in another mouthful of
cereal. Pale and bookish, he also tended toward the chunky, and had
put on a stone in the last six months.

Something else I should have noticed, Kate
thought. Leaning closer, she ruffled Henry’s thick brown hair. “Why
aren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“I can see without them,” Henry said, eyes on
his book.

“You can see up close. You can’t see far
away. You’re not going to school without them.”

Henry let out an aggrieved noise that
reminded Kate, sharply, of Maura. “The other kids call me names.
I’ll blend in better without glasses.”

“What do they call you?”

“Porker. Whaley McBlubber.
Fart-wad-ious-maximus.” Henry turned the page, then shoveled in
another spoonful of flakes and milk.

“Not Four-Eyes?”

“Four-Eyed Motherfucker,” Henry sighed.

Kate felt two things at once – pride in
Henry, who had soldiered on with minimal complaints despite the
harassment, and a thunderous, teeth-grinding rage. She wanted to go
to his school and take on those little monsters herself – monsters
who would surely look and sound like the same ones who had
tormented her, not so long ago.

“They call me Psycho Boy, too. Psycho Boy,
your mum’s in a psych ward,” Henry said.

“How do they know that?” Kate asked,
alarmed.

“They don’t. They just make up stuff – the
worst stuff they can think of. They don’t know in my case, it’s
true.”

Kate thought for a moment. Then she sat down
opposite the boy. “How would you like to learn to fight? Really
fight, with a sword?”

“I wouldn’t be allowed to take a sword to
school. In fact, we’re not supposed to fight at all,” Henry said,
regarding Kate as if she had lost her mind. “We’re supposed to
resolve things peacefully. Using our problem-solving skills.”

Kate snorted. “The point isn’t for you to
take your sword to class. The point is for you to learn confidence.
And one of the secrets of dealing with people, kiddo, is this. If
they know you’ll stand up to them, you won’t have to actually fight
them.” Not more than once or twice, Kate amended in her head.

“I don’t know.” Henry stared into his cereal
bowl.

“Are you kidding me? You’re turning down a
chance to duel like Obi-Wan Granobly?” she asked, deliberately
muffing the beloved Jedi’s name.

“Kenobi!” Henry roared. “God, Kate, why can’t
you ever get it right?”

“I’ll try. If you’ll at least try to learn
dueling.”

“I won’t be any good at it.”

“I don’t want you to be good at it. I just
want you to show up for lessons. Now find your glasses and let’s
get you off to school.”

* * *

When Kate arrived at Hetheridge’s office,
only Bhar was present, enjoying Mrs. Snell’s bountiful
breakfast.

“Our spiritual leader isn’t here. He’s been
summoned to the Superintendent’s office.” Bhar dipped his toast in
egg. “Ginny Rowland and her husband want me sacked.”

“Oh, God.” Kate said, dropping into a chair.
“Why? What have you done since yesterday, when you told them to
return to London?”

Bhar grinned. “That was my crime. Telling
them to return to London right away. Apparently, I owed it to such
fine citizens to ask them to return at their convenience, for the
complete formality of a few simple questions. They were also
insulted I didn’t tell them a solicitor was unnecessary. They
construe that as an accusation of murder.”

Kate swore a long, vicious string of oaths.
Bhar looked delighted, but Mrs. Snell, behind her desk in the outer
office, cleared her throat twice.

“I want you guarding my back from now on,”
Bhar said.

“I’m in a filthy mood,” Kate admitted. “But
you were only doing your job according to SOP. How can that be a
reason to sack you?”

“It isn’t,” Bhar said. “It’s a reason for
them to kick up a fuss, and try to get reimbursed for their
truncated vacation. Let me tell you something about the affluent,
Wakefield. They do not let go of their money easily, and they
demand premium compensation for everything. It’s a typical method
of intimidation. Mark me – they’re frightened by some aspect of the
interrogation. So they’re trying to put the Commander on notice
that they’re to be treated with nothing but kid gloves, or he’ll
never have a moment’s peace.”

“Will you be taken off the case?”

“No. My money’s on Hetheridge. I only bring
it up as a caution to you. Learning to deal with this class of
people is as much a skill as dealing with the IRA, or with American
agents. I know you aren’t easily intimidated, even by arseholes,
but it’s just as important to learn to take a certain amount of
abuse without cracking. You have to keep your job uppermost in your
mind when dealing with society mavens.”

“Like Lady Margaret Knolls?” Kate asked,
remembering she and Hetheridge had been invited for tea at two
o’clock.

“Exactly. If she baits you, think twice
before you rise to it. Don’t let her see she can make you angry at
will.”

“Is that what she does to you?”

“Pretty much,” Bhar admitted. “Better you
than me today. I don’t like to admit it, but I’m in a filthy mood,
too.”

“Really? How’d your big date end?”

“The way it usually does. Just me and my
kung-fu grip.” Bhar clenched his right hand.

“Total disaster?”

“Spent the whole meal talking about her ex.
How they were soul mates. How special he is. How hurt she is. How
fragile her heart is right now. Didn’t even get a good-night
kiss.”

“But why did you ever … hang on. Did you mum
arrange that date for you?”

Bhar groaned. “Let’s get off the
subject.”

They ate breakfast mostly in silence for the
next twenty minutes, Kate’s mind drifting back to the two pink
lines, and the dormant mobile phone in her bag. By the time
Hetheridge finally arrived, her breakfast was lodged like an anchor
in her stomach.

“Fear not, the Rowlands have been placated
with a season of theater tickets and a forthcoming letter of
apology – from me, not you, Bhar,” Hetheridge said, dropping into
the chair behind his desk. “Mr. Rowland isn’t too skilled at making
demands. If I’d been dealing with his wife, I’d still be on the
phone. You two will have your hands full questioning her tomorrow
morning. What do you have in mind for today?”

“Jules Comfrey and Kevin Whitley together,”
Bhar said. “Then I’ll drop Kate back by the Yard, so you two can
see Lady Margaret. While you’re there, I plan to spend the
afternoon looking into Charlie Fringate’s latest business
venture.”

“Excellent,” Hetheridge said, massaging his
right shoulder.

“Sorry if I hurt you,” Kate said.

“Just old age. All my parts still work,”
Hetheridge said.

“Oh, yes, I couldn’t help noticing that
yesterday,” Kate shot back. Then, with awful clarity, she realized
what she’d just said. Bhar’s sharp gaze went from her to Hetheridge
and back again. Hetheridge stared at her, cold and blank.

“I have a great deal to do today,” he said at
last. “That will be all.”

Kate and Bhar, comprehending the tone and
stare perfectly, scrambled to depart. Once in the corridor, Bhar
halted Kate, who had been striding toward the elevators like they
alone could shield her from further questioning.

“Hold on. What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later. Or never. I
don’t know.” Taking a deep breath, Kate leaned close to Bhar’s face
and said, “Look. I’m having female problems. Female problems of a
magnitude you can’t possibly imagine. Pester me and I might go up
in flames. I might even take you with me.”

Bhar backed away. “Let’s go question some
suspects.”

Working to regain her composure, Kate buckled
herself into the passenger seat of Bhar’s Astra while he paused
outside the car to answer his mobile. When he finally got behind
the wheel, he grinned at Kate, black eyes shining.

“Somebody may get nicked today. That was DC
Leaman down at the lab. The neighbors situated just behind the
Comfreys have a state-of-the-art CC TV system. One of their cameras
captured the image of someone approaching the Comfrey house on the
night of the murder, and entering through the garage. We’ll have to
double-check, but it sounds like the intruder was filmed in the
area where you found a jimmied side door that no longer
locked.”

“Male or female intruder?”

“Male. Leaman just finished enhancing the
image. He said the resolution is no more than fair, but still could
be enough for an arrest.”

“Hope he sent it to me,” Kate said, producing
her smart phone.

“No, he said we won’t be able to make out the
face on a small screen. He’ll dispatch a courier with a print ASAP.
We can head to the hotel and get started with Jules and Keith’s
re-interview. Leaman swears the courier will meet us there before
we’re finished.”

Kate found herself unable to sustain a
conversation during the drive to the hotel, but Bhar seemed content
to drive in silence, satellite radio turned off. Hoping she’d
merely look eager for a follow-up call from Forensic or one of the
secondary teams, Kate left her smart phone on her lap throughout
the drive. It did not ring.

If Dylan continued to ignore her calls, who
could help her track him down? His mother was dead, and his father,
like Kate’s, had disappeared early on and stayed gone. Dylan had a
sister in Birmingham, but the sister’s married name escaped Kate,
and besides, it wasn’t as if the siblings had ever been close. If
this freeze-out went on much longer, she’d be forced to employ the
Yard’s resources to locate him.

When Kate and Bhar presented themselves at
the hotel room of Madge and Jules Comfrey, Madge once again opened
the door.

“Good morning,” she smiled. The accelerated
aging of two days ago had disappeared, and Madge looked almost
young, with flawless make-up, stylish attire, and that stiff halo
of rich brown hair. “Please come in. Jules and Kevin are waiting
for you in the parlor.”

Madge led Kate and Bhar to the sitting room.
Jules and Keith were snuggled on an overstuffed suede loveseat in
front of the television. Jules, encased in another tight,
rebellious outfit, wore indigo eye shadow and far too much
eyeliner. Although the indigo made her pale blue eyes pop, the
heaviness of the shade overpowered the rest of her delicate,
aristocratic features. Kevin, wearing what appeared to be the same
clothes he’d sported during his last interview, smelled of tobacco,
pot, and sour sweat. Clicking off the telly, which had been set to
a music video channel, he grinned up at Kate.

“DS Walsh! I feel privileged to keep getting
the hot copper. Of course, I keep getting the fucking Paki,
too.”

“Allah grant this infidel a terrible death,”
Bhar murmured, placing his hands in an attitude of prayer and
bowing his head.

“Oi!” Kevin sat up straighter. “What’d you
say?”

“Not Paki. Taliban. God is greatest,” Bhar
bowed again, still muttering. “God, remove this infidel’s testicles
and replace them with scorpions.”

“Taliban?” Madge snapped, dark brows drawing
together.

Pleased to discover the woman her chief had
nearly made Baroness Hetheridge was too thick to grasp Bhar’s
sarcasm, Kate waved a hand dismissively.

“Kevin, tone down the racist remarks and DS
Bhar will stop praying scorpions appear in your shorts. Now – we
have several details to cover, so do you mind if we sit down?”

“Do,” Madge said coldly.

Kate took the armchair. Bhar sat down on the
brown leather hassock. Kevin, now openly hostile, stared at them,
and Jules placed a protective hand on his arm. Madge continued to
hover just a few paces away from the young couple.

“This interview is meant to be with Ms.
Comfrey and Mr. Whitley only,” Kate said. “Would you mind giving us
some privacy, Mrs. Comfrey?”

Madge’s eyes narrowed. “I see no reason I
cannot be included. Jules and I have no secrets. Kevin is
practically a member of the family. And since my husband was the
victim, I certainly have a greater interest in seeing justice done
than anyone here. I might also remind you,” she said, “I am very
well acquainted with Tony Hetheridge.”

“Yes,” Kate said, modulating her tone and
forcing a sweet smile. “I’m aware Chief Superintendent Hetheridge
called off his engagement to you some years ago, and after that,
the two of you lost touch. But DS Bhar and I would never presume to
discuss such a sensitive subject with you, Mrs. Comfrey. The Chief
will contact you himself if he considers those details significant.
In the meantime, would you mind giving us some privacy with Ms.
Comfrey and Mr. Whitley?”

Madge stared at Kate. “I shall speak to CS
Hetheridge. And his superiors,” she said at last. Then she turned
away. A moment later, the suite’s front door closed, not quite in a
slam, but hard enough to be unmistakable.

Kate took a deep breath. “Now. Jules. When we
interviewed Kevin at his current residence, a council flat shared
with a Ms. Lisa Plaster, he told us he is not, in fact, engaged to
you …”

“The hell I did!” Kevin burst out. “Why do
you want to go and tell a lie like that?”

“And Ms. Plaster told us she and Kevin are,
in fact, sharing an intimate relationship that continues to this
day,” Kate went on, cutting across Kevin’s outburst. “We need to
know what the precise truth is. Have you two settled on
marriage?”