The Waiting Game Read online

  Thirty

  Chloe woke late. Pale grey light sneaked into the room through the gaps in the curtain. No sign of yesterday’s sunshine. She didn’t care.

  Last night with Carl. He’d treated her like a princess. Really took care of her. Insisted on buying all the drinks and later, in the restaurant, refused to let her pay her half of the bill.

  It felt different from their first night together. Both of them more nervous. Which was strange, when you thought about it, because of what they’d done the first time. And then, at the end of the night, he’d driven her home but nothing else had happened. A kiss on the doorstep, but she didn’t invite him in and he said he understood. Told her this felt special and he didn’t want to rush things, either.

  She could hardly believe this was happening. A week earlier, she was living in fear of her life, literally terrified that Ricky was going to turn up on her doorstep any moment and really hurt her. But all that had stopped now.

  He’d called last night. She hadn’t called back yet, but she would. Later. She’d sort of half promised Nathan she’d go to church with him this morning. She checked the time on her phone. Ten-thirty! Way too late for church.

  There was a text waiting for her. Carl.

  Gr8 time last nite. Hope you ok. Fancy a quick drink 2nite? Xx

  Two kisses! She hugged the phone to her chest, thinking about Carl and his lovely blue eyes and the way he made her feel. Special. Sort of how Ricky had made her feel, at first, but different too. With Ricky, he always made it clear, right from the beginning, that he was the one in charge. It was one of the things she’d liked about him to start with.

  Carl wasn’t like that. He pretended to be this real lad but actually, when it was just the two of them, he was really shy and always wanting to know what she wanted and was this wine okay and was she sure she liked the restaurant and …

  She replied to his text. Quickly, before she changed her mind and got chicken about it.

  Gr8 time 2. Wd luv drink. Call me? Xxxxx

  She pressed Send, little tremors of excitement running through her.

  She rolled over onto her side, blinking away the bits of daylight that broke into the room.

  The curtains! She sat up in bed, panic stripping away the last, lingering effects of sleep.

  They were only partially drawn, a big gap down the centre that was letting the light in. Ever since this business with Ricky, she’d been so careful every night. Double locking the front and back doors, making sure the bolts on the front door were pulled across. And making sure there wasn’t a single gap in the curtains where someone could peer in from outside.

  She tried to remember going to bed last night. The details were a bit hazy. She didn’t think she’d drunk that much but come to think of it, her head did feel a bit thick and she never usually slept in this late.

  She thought she’d closed them properly, was pretty sure she had, in fact. But, if she was being honest, she couldn’t swear by it a hundred percent. In her hand, her phone buzzed. Another text from Carl: Xxxxx.

  She was being silly. Worrying about the curtains, of all things!

  She reached out for the alarm remote control and pressed the button that switched off the alarm. Her mouth was dry, another sign she’d had too much wine. Even though she’d drank lots of water when she came home. She did remember that. She had a water purifier in the kitchen and always drank a pint before bedtime, knowing it was the best way to keep her skin looking fresh.

  She looked around for the glass she’d brought up with her, but it was empty. She sent a quick xxx and a smiley face back to Carl then got out of bed. Putting on her fluffy dressing-gown and matching slippers, she went downstairs.

  Midway down the stairs, she stopped, scared suddenly of what she’d find down there. She’d left her phone up by the bed and wished she hadn’t. Part of her wanted to call Carl and ask him to come over straight away. Another part of her knew she was being stupid. She had her injunction. Ricky couldn’t come near her, couldn’t do a single thing to hurt her. It was over. Carl said it was only natural to feel like this from time to time. She’d spoken about it last night. Said that even though she didn’t think Ricky would come back, she couldn’t help feeling scared. He’d offered to sleep on her sofa but she’d said no, that wasn’t right. She had to get used to being on her own.

  When she’d said that, he’d looked at her like he was really proud of her and it made her feel special all over again. She didn’t think he’d be proud if he saw her now, standing on the stairs like a ninny, too scared to go into her own kitchen. That got her moving again. She ran down the last few steps and straight into the kitchen.

  Later, she’d try to work out when she knew something was wrong. She would tell Raj she felt it the moment she opened the kitchen door. In truth, it was a second or two before that. Possibly when she felt the gush of cold air across her legs while she was still in the hallway.

  Or when she glanced behind her, right before going into the kitchen, and noticed that the bolt on the front door was pulled back. And even if she knew then, it didn’t stop her. She pulled open the kitchen door and went inside. Moving fast because she knew now what she was going to find.

  The door that led from the kitchen into the tiny back garden was open. Swinging gently in the wind that blew through the open door and wrapping itself around her legs and body, making her shiver.

  And on the kitchen worktop, her favourite mug, the one Nathan had given her as a moving-in present. Pink with little bunny rabbits painted onto it. The flower lying alongside it, just like she knew it would be. She lifted the mug, felt how warm it was, saw the steam rising from the freshly made tea inside. The mug slipped from her hand, crashed onto the cheap lino and broke, little shards of china and hot splashes of tea, bouncing against her legs.

  She didn’t even notice. All she could think of was how stupid she’d been. Ricky had told her what would happen. How he would make her life a misery if she ever dared walk out on him. He was only doing what he’d said he would. Her big mistake was that she hadn’t taken his threats seriously enough.

  Thirty-One

  ‘I dropped it,’ Chloe said. ‘I know you said I wasn’t to touch it, but I was so freaked…’

  She looked freaked. Raj didn’t think she was making it up. He tried to think what Ellen would do. She was always telling him to follow his gut. If you felt something, chances were that feeling was right.

  ‘And you’re certain you locked both doors?’ he asked.

  ‘As certain as I can be,’ Chloe said. ‘I mean, I make sure to lock them every night. Why would I forget to do it last night?’

  ‘You told me you’d been out,’ Raj said. ‘Maybe you had a bit too much to drink and forgot?’

  ‘Even if I did,’ Chloe said. ‘And I’m not saying that’s what happened, but even if I did, it still doesn’t explain this.’ She pointed at the broken mug still scattered on the floor.

  The call had come when he was still at Aidan’s. There’d been some talk of spending the day together but when Chloe called, Raj had used work as an excuse to get out of there. Spent the drive over here hating himself for being such a coward. For being relieved when Chloe’s call had come through. He’d sent a text, saying how sorry he was and promising to make up for it later. So far, Aidan hadn’t replied.

  Chloe refilled the water filter and poured herself another glass. Her third since Raj arrived. And he’d only been here half an hour. Which made him think that Chloe might have had more to drink than she was letting on. Her movements were slow and sluggish too, like she hadn’t woken up properly.

  ‘I thought it was over,’ Chloe said.

  Poor kid. Raj wished there was something more he could do. Times like this he hated his job. He’d joined the police because he wanted to help people. Half the time – more than that – he ended up feeling useless. The force was changing. Lack of resources and funding, combined with Superintendent Paul Nichols’ sociopathic need to prove that crime in Le
wisham was falling made it increasingly difficult for decent coppers to get on with their day job. Instead, Raj was spending more and more time on paperwork – either justifying his existence or tweaking crime reports so that Nichols’ monthly reporting figures pleased whatever shiny-faced bureaucrats he was accountable to.

  ‘I’ll take the pieces of the mug,’ Raj said. ‘And the flower. Get them dusted down for prints and any traces of DNA.’ Chances of finding something were close to zero, but at least it would reassure Chloe that he was doing something.

  ‘Chloe, I know I’ve already asked you this. Are you sure you don’t know a woman called Monica Telford? She’s an artist. Lives in Lee. Ring any bells?’

  Chloe frowned. ‘Monica? I don’t know anyone called Monica. Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ Raj said.

  Alastair had already cross-checked both women and found nothing to connect them. Didn’t mean the connection wasn’t there, though. It was possible Raj just hadn’t found it yet. Or else there was nothing to find.

  ‘I’ll speak to my colleagues in Hammersmith,’ he said. ‘Get them to have another chat with Ricky. Although I’m not sure that will do any good. His alibis so far have been watertight.’

  ‘Well then he’s getting someone to do it for him,’ Chloe said.

  ‘I need some other names,’ Raj said. ‘Is there anyone else you can think of who might want to scare you like this? You must meet all sorts in your job, I imagine. Always thought being an estate agent’s a bit like being with the police. You get to see the full range of humanity – good and bad. And you’ll need to think about staying somewhere else for a few days. What about your mum? Have you called her yet?’

  Chloe shook her head. ‘I want to, but I’m afraid she’ll put the phone down on me. That’s what she did the last time I called.’

  ‘She knows you’re not with Ricky any longer, though?’ Raj asked.

  ‘She knows. But she said that doesn’t change anything. The way she sees it, I only moved in with Ricky to spite her. When I told her I’d left him, I thought she’d be happy.’

  ‘Why wasn’t she?’

  ‘She thought it meant I’d move back to Spain,’ Chloe said. ‘When she heard I was staying in London, she lost it.’

  ‘There must be someone else,’ Raj said.

  A pink flush brightened Chloe’s pale cheeks.

  ‘I could ask Carl,’ she said. ‘But I’m not ready for that. We’re not ready. We’re trying to take things slowly, you see. If I suddenly ask to move into his, it’ll change things. I don’t want that.’

  ‘Carl from the office? What’s this got to do with him?’

  ‘We’re seeing each other,’ Chloe said. ‘Why?’

  * * *

  Chloe had Carl’s telephone number but no address for him. Raj sat in his car and called Malcolm, told him what he needed. While he waited for Malcolm to call him back, Raj phoned Ellen.

  ‘So she’s dating this bloke she knows absolutely nothing about,’ Raj said. ‘Doesn’t even know where he bloody lives.’

  ‘Why would she know that?’ Ellen said. ‘I don’t know where you live and I’ve been working with you for the last five years.’

  ‘Yeah, but we’re not dating,’ Raj said.

  ‘You asking me out, Patel?’

  Raj smiled. ‘In your dreams, Ma’am. Listen, I’ve got to go. Malcolm’s calling me.’

  Hanging up from Ellen, he took Malcolm’s call.

  ‘What have you got?’

  ‘Carl Jenkins,’ Malcolm said. ‘Twenty-three-year-old estate agent. Lives on Ardmore Crescent in a two-bed flat with his mum, Gloria. You want the address?’

  Ardmore Crescent was a short drive from Chloe’s house in Hither Green. When Raj knocked on the door, it was opened by a tall, elegant woman with grey hair pulled back into a neat bun. She was clearly concerned when Raj produced his warrant card and asked to speak to Carl.

  ‘He’s not in any trouble, I hope?’ Mrs Jenkins said.

  ‘Just a routine enquiry,’ Raj said. ‘Shouldn’t take up any time at all, Mrs Jenkins.’

  He followed her into the small flat, down a dark corridor to a clean, modern kitchen at the back.

  ‘Carl’s still in bed,’ she said. ‘He likes a lie-in on a Sunday. Only chance he gets. I’ll go and get him for you.’

  She disappeared and Raj could hear her, knocking on her son’s bedroom door then the muffled sound of their voices. A few minutes later, Carl himself appeared, looking like he’d just got up. Tousled dark hair, eyes heavy with sleep, dressed in a pair of faded denims and a crumpled T-shirt.

  Raj already knew Carl. He’d met him a handful of times in the estate agent’s office where Chloe worked and had the impression that Carl was a decent enough bloke.

  ‘Sorry,’ Carl said. ‘Mind if I make a coffee first? Can’t function right without caffeine. You want one?’

  Raj watched as Carl moved about the kitchen, turning the kettle on and spooning instant coffee into a matching pair of patterned mugs. Raj could think of worse ways to spend his morning. The guy was seriously something. Blue eyes, dark skin, thick dark hair and a body that looked like it had walked straight off the pages of one of Aidan’s fitness magazines. The only imperfection Raj could see was Carl’s nose, which had obviously been broken at some point. In Raj’s opinion, the flatness across the bridge of the nose added character to a face that would otherwise be too pretty.

  Coffee made, Carl sat down across from Raj and smiled. Raj found himself smiling right back as he lifted the bitter-smelling coffee to his mouth. Blue eyes that reminded him of Aidan. He was a sucker for blue eyes.

  ‘Is this about Chloe?’ Carl said. ‘Nothing’s happened, has it?’

  ‘Why would you think something’s happened?’ Raj asked.

  ‘This business with her ex,’ Carl said. ‘I know she’s been a bit freaked. But I thought all that was finished.’

  ‘Chloe says you and her have been seeing a bit of each other,’ Raj said.

  Carl smiled again. Less cheeky this time, a bit shy.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How long have you worked together?’ Raj asked.

  ‘Me and Chloe? Since she started,’ Carl said. ‘About six months, something like that. I’ve been there a year now. My mum wanted me to go to uni but I couldn’t see the point. Want to work with property. I’ll make more money out of that than doing some stupid degree and spending the next ten years paying off a big loan.’

  ‘So you’ve worked with her for six months but the first time you asked her out was last week?’ Raj said.

  ‘Yeah, well.’ Carl shifted in his seat and started again. ‘Truth is, she was a bit stand-offish at first. I got her wrong, thought she was a bit stuck-up. And she’s so pally with Nathan, I thought she had her eye on him. I mean, I know he’s a fat bastard but I reckoned maybe it was his money she was after. He’s rolling in it, after all.’

  ‘What changed your mind?’

  ‘The newspaper,’ Carl said. ‘Moment I read it, I knew I’d got her all wrong. Felt terrible about it. I wasn’t planning on, you know, jumping her or whatever. I just wanted to chat. Tell her I was sorry she was having such a shitty time. We went for a drink and one thing led to another.’

  He smiled. He had a great smile. Face lit up like he was the happiest bloke you’d ever meet. Difficult not to smile right back at him, even though Raj was here to question him, not grin at him.

  ‘I’m seeing her tonight,’ Carl said. ‘Going to take her to the Catford Conservative Club. Do you know it? New pub where the old Con Club used to be. Dead cool. She’ll love it. Hang on, though. You still haven’t told me what all this is about. Has something else happened to her?’

  When Raj told him, Carl seemed genuinely upset and concerned for Chloe. The bloke was either a really good liar or he had nothing to do with what happened last night. Raj asked him a few more questions but, by now, it all felt a bit pointless. A few minutes later, he thanked Carl for his time and left.

/>   Back in his car, he checked his phone. A text from Aidan.

  Make it up to me how exactly?

  Raj replied quickly – and graphically – even added a smiley face before he pressed Send.

  Then he switched on the engine and drove away, smiling.

  Thirty-Two

  Greenwich Market on a Sunday. The place was buzzing. Monica wandered around the stalls, pausing every so often to chat to one of the stallholders. She loved this place. Loved that she lived close enough to walk over here on a Sunday morning. Loved that this was something she was part of. Somewhere she belonged.

  She’d dressed carefully: black woollen dress – fitted – high boots and a scarlet-red silk and cashmere wrap. The boho-glamour look suited her and she worked it to perfection this morning.

  She stopped at a stall selling designer T-shirts. The T-shirts themselves were awful – punk-inspired patterns so unoriginal she could barely bother to pretend. But the guy selling them was divine. White-blonde hair, chiselled cheekbones and eyes the colour of bluebells.

  She got his attention pretty quickly and the T-shirt chit-chat quickly turned to other things. He’d asked her out within ten minutes. She gave him her number and left without buying anything. Sometimes it was almost too easy.

  Later, she wandered into the park and immediately wished she hadn’t. Sunday had to be the worst day to come here. Full of happy, smiling couples with their adorable brats on scooters and bicycles and bloody rollerblades. Not seeming to notice that the day was grey and cold and totally unsuited for family outings to the park. Ahead of her, a young girl came towards her, wobbling dangerously on her rollerblades. Only a matter of time before she fell. Monica considered not stepping out of the way but the father was cute. At the last minute, she jumped sideways, accidentally on purpose falling into him.