Something Wicked (26 page)

‘I’m not sure why you’re telling me this . . .’

Violet breathed out heavily. ‘I suppose I’ve just had enough of it all. This last week has proved to me that it really
is
over with. I hope you can help. I don’t need
much – just proof of what he’s doing. I know you did that previous report but he could easily argue he wasn’t getting up to anything untoward in that place out in
Huyton.’

That’s what Andrew had feared at the time. He thought of Keira and how he’d react if someone was harming her in the way Stewart was treating his wife. He’d thought that these
types of infidelity cases were exactly what he wanted to avoid, so he could concentrate on those where he could help people. Here, he could help at least one person . . . he just had to be very
careful.

Andrew waited until Violet peered up from the desk and was looking at him.

He always was a soft touch.

‘I’ll see what we can do. But you might have to give me a few days because there’s something else I’ve got to deal with first.’

As Andrew approached Lara’s block of flats, a young twenty-something wearing a tight cardigan and even tighter cord trousers was on his way out, presumably in an effort
to find a mirror or a clothes shop. Andrew offered a thin smile and the student held the door open for him, not bothering to query who he was.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Andrew could hear raised voices coming from inside the flat. The female Alex’s voice was by far the loudest: ‘. . . all I want is for
you to stop going through my things!’

Male Alex was giving as good as he got: ‘I’ve not touched your stuff.’

‘I had six corner yoghurts in the fridge and now there are only five.’

‘So what?’

‘So you’re the one that’s always going around stealing other people’s food.’

‘I am not.’

There was a slam of something fleshy-sounding on the wall. ‘Everyone knows you do. Sophie caught you stealing her HobNobs the other week.’

‘That was different.’

‘How?’

‘I was pissed and they were sitting there in the cupboard!’

‘You’re such a pig.’

‘You love it, babe.’

Wallop – flesh on skin this time. ‘Stop calling me that. And I really
don’t
love it.’

There was a slam of a door and then hush. If Jenny did know what she was talking about – which Andrew wasn’t convinced of – then the two Alexes probably should just do it to
get it over with. If Jenny was wrong, then they should probably be separated before one of them murdered the other.

Andrew waited just in case there was going to be more arguing. Stuck to the railings was the same flyer asking people to get in touch about the apparent rat problem. This time he noticed
Alex’s name and email address on the bottom. There were more ‘Vote Dave P for President’ posters overlaid with the picture of someone’s hairy arse but also a scattering of
‘Don’t vote Dave P for President’ banners with a picture of Postman Pat. There was definitely a private joke going on.

When he was sure the row was over, Andrew knocked gently and the door was soon opened by the female Alex. She blinked in recognition. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘Is Lara in?’

Alex pulled the door open further and nodded towards the end of the hallway. ‘See for yourself.’

Nothing appeared to have changed inside, with the fridge still buzzing like an aeroplane coming in to land and an underlying smell of curry that seemed to be part of the walls.

Further along the corridor, Andrew stopped outside Lara’s door and knocked gently. Her voice sounded from the inside. ‘Who is it?’

‘Andrew Hunter. I was hoping we could have another chat.’

There was a shuffling, a ‘hang on’, and then the door opened a crack, revealing a single, blinking eye.

‘What do you want?’

‘Have you got ten minutes?’

‘Why didn’t you call?’

‘I’m here on a whim. I only need a few minutes.’

It was a lie; Andrew had wanted to catch her when she wouldn’t have had time to prepare for his arrival.

She swore under her breath. ‘All right, give me a minute.’

Before he could answer, the door clicked closed, leaving him to lean awkwardly on the side wall.

It took Andrew a few moments to realise that the young woman who emerged from Lara’s room was actually the person he was there to see. Apart from the long, dark hair, she looked completely
different: make-up-free and wearing jeans with a heavy coat.

She didn’t even glance at Andrew as she headed for the main door. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

Andrew did as he was told, following her downstairs, past the array of posters into the lounge area where she had apparently had her rant about Harry Potter.

Five vanilla-coloured sofas were scattered around the room, each with amber beer stains and copious amounts of fluffy yellow stuffing pouring out. Fixed to the widest wall was a large, flat
television with a series of scratches along the front panel and a remote control connected to the bottom with string and what looked like five or six rolls of sticky tape. A printed card was pinned
underneath, reading: ‘Save the world by saving electricity. TURN IT OFF.’ Predictably, the red dot indicating standby glowed directly above it.

On the wall, there was another photocopied sheet asking people to contact Alex if they saw a rat, plus many more of the vote/don’t vote posters.

Lara fell onto one of the sofas, with Andrew sitting nearby, not too close. She picked up the remote control and muted a cookery programme that was bordering on pornographic, with lingering
shots of a female chef sucking on a jam-dipped spoon.

‘You can’t keep coming here,’ Lara said.

‘I don’t intend to. Hopefully I can leave you alone after this.’

Lara glanced away from the television towards Andrew, suddenly interested. ‘Have you discovered something?’

‘I’d like to ask you what you know about black magic.’

Her mouth bobbed open but only for a second before she composed herself again. Without the heavy make-up, her face seemed capable of stronger emotions. Her eyelid was twitching and there was a
sense of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before as she scratched at her cheek.

‘Why are you asking?’

‘There were books about the occult in Nicholas’s room.’

‘Really?’

If Lara was faking it, then she was good – the word popped straight out.

‘They were under his bed.’

‘Oh . . . was there anything else?’

‘Like what?’

She started to say something but stopped herself. ‘I don’t understand why you’re here. You’re supposed to be finding out what happened to Nicholas. Have you discovered
something, or not?’

‘That’s why I was hoping you could tell me what you know about magic.’

Lara was scratching her cheek again, eyes nervously glancing to and from the door as if she was worried someone was going to come in. ‘Why? Because of the way I usually dress? You think
that makes me some sort of wiccan?’

‘No, I’m asking because of the books. Nicholas wouldn’t have had them if he wasn’t interested and you were his girlfriend. It’s natural to think you’d know
something.’

He was trying to be diplomatic but could see why people had told him about the arguments between Lara and Nicholas. Everything about her body language screamed rage. She was leaning forward, top
lip curled, fists balled.

‘How do you know they were his?’

‘Who else’s would they be?’

Lara frowned, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know – you found them.’

‘Did you ever hear him talking about the occult?’

‘No. That type of thing is just for kids with their vampire movies, isn’t it? Nothing for grown-ups.’

‘Didn’t you have an argument with people in this room, saying that magic was real?’

Lara leapt off from the sofa, instantly furious. She poked a black fingernail into Andrew’s chest with surprising force. ‘Are you spying on me?’

Andrew flinched in pain, trying to pull away without raising his arms. ‘No.’

She edged back, weapon-like finger crooked and poised. ‘So how do you know that? Have you been following me?’

‘I heard from someone.’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t think I should say.’

‘I want you to leave.’ Lara was on her feet, grabbing his forearm and trying to pull him towards the door. Andrew didn’t fight but didn’t go with her either, remaining on
the sofa.

‘Lara . . .’

‘I’ll call the security office. You’re not allowed to be here unless you’re invited.’

‘I need to ask you about your name.’

She stopped tugging Andrew’s arm, standing over him instead, hands on hips. ‘What about it?’

‘Where does Malvado come from?’

‘It’s what I’m called . . .’

‘Is it really? That’s what it says on your birth certificate?’

‘What’s it to you? You’re supposed to be finding out what happened to Nicholas, not spying on me. I—’

She stopped as a young man with straggly shoulder-length dark hair appeared in the doorway wearing obscenely tight running shorts, a vest that clung to his slender frame, fluorescent yellow
running shoes and socks pulled up to his knees. He glanced between Lara and Andrew. ‘Everything all right?’

Lara dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘Piss off and mind your own business.’

‘I was only—’

‘Well, don’t.’

The jogger had one last look at them and then pissed off to mind his own business. Lara sat back on the sofa close to Andrew, her voice lower, not wanting to attract attention.

‘Why does it matter what I’m called?’

‘What does Malvado mean?’

‘It was just a word I liked.’

‘So you started using it as a last name?’

‘People have nicknames all the time – so what? I just chose my own.’

‘But why that one?’

Unconsciously, Lara was rubbing the area of her arm where Andrew knew the circle symbol was. ‘My dad used to use it . . .’

‘Oh . . .’

Andrew didn’t know what to say. They’d been looking for information about Lara’s parents and the name ‘Malvado’ for days with little luck. All they knew was what
Richard Carr had told them in the first place: Lara was an orphan. He hoped she would fill the gap but Lara wasn’t going to give up any information she didn’t have to.

‘Is your dad—’

‘He’s dead if that’s what you’re asking but it’s none of your business.’

‘Do you know what Malvado means?’

Lara was scratching at her cheek again, leaving a red mark. ‘It’s just a word – I told you. What’s it got to do with Nicholas?’

Andrew reached into his pocket and took out the napkin from the previous day on which he’d drawn the circle with the upside-down triangle. He passed it across. ‘Do you know what this
is?’

A shrug before she screwed it up.

‘It’s on your arm. Nicholas had one too.’

Lara tugged down her sleeves, even though they were already around her wrists. ‘So?’

‘I’m only asking what it is.’

‘It’s just a logo we liked. Why’s it so important? Is this what gets you off? Harassing young women, like that one you brought here last time?’

‘It’s an innocent question.’

‘Do you think you’re some sort of super-cop? I’ve already had all of this from the police and his parents: everyone looking at me as if I’m lying. I told you what
happened the night Nicholas disappeared and don’t understand why you’re still here.’

‘Because I want to find out what happened to your boyfriend.’

‘So what have you actually done? All you do is keep coming here and asking stupid questions. I can dress how I want, have any tattoos I want, read what I want. It’s nothing to do
with you.’

‘I’m not trying to say it is.’

Lara’s features scrunched together with a new ferocity, like an angry turnip but with the wild-eyed gaze of someone who could cause some serious damage. This was a different, more focused
type of anger; no elaborate finger-waving or posturing. There was no show: just her and him.

‘You should be
really
careful about what you stick your nose into.’

The room felt colder and Andrew could see what other people had tried to tell him about the fierceness of Lara’s arguing with Nicholas and her flatmates. Her stare was a traction beam from
which he couldn’t escape.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think you know.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Some forces go far above you.’

Andrew sucked on his bottom lip, not entirely sure how to respond. ‘Is that a threat?’

‘Take it how you want.’

With any pretence of a civil conversation now over, Andrew stood, ready to leave. Lara continued glaring at him and then stormed through the open door, heading towards the stairs without looking
back. He followed her into the hallway but she was practically running, taking the stairs two at a time and bounding around the banister at the top of the first flight. Moments later, a door
slammed above.

Andrew turned in a circle, taking in the tatty space. There were more posters on the walls and windows and one of the overhead lights was flickering furiously. A shiver bubbled along his spine
but not because of the cold. Lara’s send-off certainly sounded like a threat and had been genuinely chilling. He still didn’t know who had drawn the occult symbol on the office door but
he’d spoken to Lara on Thursday evening to ask if they could meet, and the symbol had likely been sketched sometime overnight. It also didn’t seem true that she could have chosen
‘Malvado’ as a last name, or nickname, by chance. Keira had indicated that believers could use it to symbolise ‘daughter of’, which felt more plausible. What
did
sound genuine was that she’d got the word from her father, but Jenny hadn’t been able to find out anything about him, including how long Lara had been an orphan.

He was about to leave when he noticed what a row of the vote/don’t vote posters were covering. Almost completely hidden was a row of cubby-holes, used to store mail for each flat. Andrew
slowly looked around but the area was clear. He brushed aside the flyer and delved into the pile underneath number eight. At the bottom, buried under a mound of unopened post for the male Alex, was
a single brown envelope with the university’s logo in the top right corner. Printed on the front was Lara’s full name. Exactly as Keira had predicted, it was not Malvado.