Endgame, page 30
At last the paramedics arrived. I stood up, pulling Callie with me to her feet. She clung to me, sobbing. My heart cracked in two for her. We stepped aside to give the two paramedics – a clean-shaven Nought man with sandy-brown hair tied back in a ponytail and an older bald Cross woman with flawless make-up – room. With no time for pleasantries, they immediately got to work. Sonny came to stand beside us, tears streaming down his cheeks as we watched the paramedics do all they could to revive Sephy.
To no avail.
Finally the Nought paramedic turned to us and shook his head regretfully. Callie buried her face in her hands.
‘No!’ Sonny’s cry was ripped from him. He sank to his knees beside Sephy, seeking out and taking hold of one of her bloody hands in both of his.
‘Tobey, what can I do?’ said Callie, her every word jagged and anguished.
‘There’s nothing we can do, Callie, except let her go,’ I replied softly.
I held her tighter, tears pricking at my own eyes at the grief radiating through her in waves as she wept. In that moment, I would’ve given anything, given up everything, even my own life, to take her pain away. But I couldn’t. All I could do was hold her.
After the paramedics had taken Sephy away but before the police arrived, Callie went to the bathroom next to Eva’s office. While she was gone, I used the opportunity to have a private word with Jarvis over by Eva’s desk. Eva was back in her chair, her hands resting on the desk before her. When she saw me looking at her, she self-consciously dragged her wounded arm onto her lap.
‘Jarvis, Eva is sunset. Tonight.’ I kept my voice low so that only he and Eva could hear me. I wanted her to hear. How could I show her mercy when I knew she’d view it and exploit it as a weakness, using it to come after me and mine again? I couldn’t risk that. I’ll say one thing for her, she didn’t cry or scream or beg. She just sat up straighter and smiled.
‘Nothing personal, Eva,’ I told her. ‘Just business.’
Eva nodded. ‘Touché.’
Prickles began to scratch at my nape. I looked across the room. Callie was watching me intently, her eyes still red from the tears she’d shed. I tried to smile at her. She didn’t smile back. She scrutinized me for a moment or two longer before turning away. There’s no way she could’ve heard what I’d just said from where she stood. There had to be at least four metres between us. I headed after her without another word. I knew Jarvis would get the job done. He always did.
‘Callie, wait,’ I called out.
She turned her head. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Yes.’
Leaving the building, we headed for my car and were pulling out just as the sound of police sirens reached us. If we waited, we’d have to spend all night answering questions at a police station and I knew Callie wanted to go to the hospital to be with her mum. As a number of squad cars screeched round the corner, I was already driving away. It was time to pull some strings and call in some favours.
The police caught up with us at the hospital as Callie sat with Sephy’s body, ceaseless tears running in rivulets down her face. Though the officers were sympathetic, they insisted on interviewing us there and then. Callie, Sonny and I told the same story. Jon had pulled a gun on all of us. He’d shot Eva’s bodyguard, shot Sephy and, in an ensuing struggle between him and me for the gun, it had gone off again, killing him. And all because he’d kidnapped my daughter and Callie’s brother to try and extort money from me. Detective Inspector D’Souza, the officer in charge, had assured me that it was a clear case of self-defence. Once we’d given formal statements, no further action would be taken.
Just over an hour later, the police finally left us alone with our grief. I struggled desperately for the right way to act, the appropriate thing to say. I had nothing. I took Callie’s hand in mine and held it tight, hoping she could somehow absorb a fraction of what I was feeling from moment to moment.
‘Tobey, I want you to listen to something,’ said Callie after many minutes of silence.
Before I could reply, she handed me her phone. The messages app was open and showed a number of texts from her mum.
‘Mum’s last message,’ Callie informed me softly.
I took a closer look. The last one from Sephy was an audio message. Godsake! I didn’t know how to even begin to process that. This was a voice message from someone who was no longer with us. How must Callie be feeling, to hear her mum’s voice like this?
‘Callie, love, are you all right?’ I asked with concern.
Callie shook her head. ‘No, not really. Not even close. But listen.’
Unease, like nails being dragged down a chalkboard, began to scratch at my skin. I pressed play and held the phone closer.
Hi, angel,
I’m not going to beat about the bush because Sonny is waiting outside the car and we’re heading into Ava’s to see Eva Foxton and I want to make sure that someone besides me knows how many blue beans make five. This message is insurance, just in case.
OK, Callie, here it is.
George Davison murdered Dan Jeavons. George is … was Dan’s butler. I don’t have any proof, but I’m convinced of it. George’s daughter, Chima, is seventeen and she has a three-month-old daughter named Zelie. I checked Zelie’s birth certificate online with the General Records Office and Jeavons is Zelie’s dad. That man is … was a son of a bitch who told me that he liked his girls ‘fresh’. Ew. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. I think Dan’s mistake on the night he died was saying it when George was present, plus George was the only one Dan would allow to get behind him. I saw it with my own eyes. George gathered up coffee cups or some such from one of the bookcases behind Dan and Dan didn’t even twitch. When I spoke to Patrix earlier today, he said Dan wouldn’t even let him move round his desk, never mind get behind him. If you speak to the other guests at Dan’s dinner party, I’m sure they’ll have similar tales to tell. I guess Dan thought he had nothing to fear from someone who worked for him. Just shows how wrong a man can be.
But here’s the thing, Callie: I don’t know what to do with the information.
I’ve been warned that the case against Tobey is about to be dropped and that the police are going to come after me. Tobey still has the murder weapon that’s bound to have a partial print of mine or other forensic proof that I handled it, like fibres from the blouse I wore on the night. I tried to wipe it clean with my blouse, but I know that in my haste and panic I did a lousy job. And, thanks to an anonymous tip-off, the police now know that Tobey has the real murder weapon. That juicy titbit could only have come from George. He was the only one apart from Tobey and me who knew about the letter opener. I believe this is his way of making sure the police only look in my direction in their search for Dan’s killer. Well, I have no intention of going to prison for something I didn’t do, nor am I going to let myself get locked up for being stupid – which yes, I was. I admit it. But, if stupidity were enough reason to lock someone up, there’d be no one left on the outside. But here’s the problem – I don’t want to land George in prison either. His daughter and his granddaughter need him, now more than ever. Plus, if I’m honest, I don’t blame him. Dan was all kinds of wrong for what he did to Chima.
That man was always a lowlife, no-class, scum-sucking creep.
Mouthing off to me about how he preferred younger girls when George was in the room with us at the time … Well, it makes me wonder if Dan had some kind of death wish or was he just sticking it to George because he could? Am I sorry Dan’s gone? Hell no, I am not.
Anyway, I know Zelie is Chima’s child because I met them both earlier today. As soon as Zelie began crying, Chima started to lactate and it stained her T-shirt. Been there, done that. Particularly with breast pads that don’t work and get saturated within a minute and a half, rendering them pointless.
So I’m letting you know the truth, but you are NOT to do anything with this information without my permission. D’you hear me, Callie? Do not take it to the police or any other authority without passing it by me first. And please, please don’t let Tobey know about my suspicions. I still don’t trust that man, nor what he’d do with this knowledge. Nor do I want him retaliating against George and Chima for the death of his best friend Dan and, quite frankly, I wouldn’t put it past him.
Damn but I’m tired.
This has been one hell of a day and it’s not over yet. I need to get Troy home safely and then I can apply my mind to what to do about George. And I’ll tell you something else, honey. Dan was going to die that night one way or another. He spent the whole evening antagonizing his guests so the atmosphere by the time the starter was served was positively febrile. George just got in first. Anyway, let’s talk later when hopefully Troy is home and asleep in his own bed.
I love you, Callie. You’re still my favourite daughter. Ha!
See you soon.
Callie watched me intently as the message finished.
‘I don’t understand,’ I frowned. ‘George killed Dan?’
‘So Mum says,’ said Callie. ‘What happens when the police ask you to hand over the murder weapon?’
‘Then I will, but unfortunately it’s been dishwashed quite a few times since Dan’s party.’ I shrugged. ‘I left it in the kitchen and my cleaner thought it was just another piece of dirty cutlery. It’s been washed regularly ever since.’
‘But you still have the recording?’
‘What recording?’
‘The one of Mum in the study with the letter opener in her hand,’ said Callie.
‘What recording?’ I repeated pointedly.
Callie and I looked at each other. A brief, tremulous smile flitted across Callie’s lips. It didn’t last long, but it was there.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly.
‘You’re welcome,’ I replied. ‘Though I have no idea how your mum worked out who the murderer was after just one day when the police and I have been trying to figure it out for weeks.’
‘So you believe her?’ asked Callie.
‘Your mum wouldn’t accuse anyone unless she was one hundred per cent certain,’ I said.
‘So what’re you going to do?’
And only then did it click. Was Callie using this as some kind of test?
‘If George says nothing to the police about me taking the murder weapon, then I’ll keep my mouth shut,’ I said. ‘But, if he does try to drop me or Sephy in it, then I’ll have no choice but to present the police with your mum’s counterproposal.’
‘Seems fair,’ said Callie. ‘We leave the ball in George’s court, for now.’
‘For now,’ I agreed.
DI D’Souza had cautioned us that, even though the bodies of the female bodyguard and Jon had been removed, Ava’s was now a cordoned-off crime scene. We were warned we wouldn’t be able to return, which was fine by me. I didn’t care if I never saw the place again. The detective didn’t mention Jarvis and Eva so they must’ve been long gone by the time the police had secured the building and arrived at Eva’s office. At least I didn’t have to worry about any blowback from that.
No, the only thing I had on my mind was the woman in the chair beside me. After she shrugged away my first few attempts to put an arm round her shoulder, I gave up. But I wasn’t going to leave her. She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. She needed me.
‘Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ I asked gently.
Callie didn’t speak. She just shook her head. I took her hand again. This time, Callie didn’t pull away. Her fingers were cool as they curled round mine. And there we sat, with the body of Persephone Hadley lying on the hospital bed before us, as I struggled in vain to find some words, some way, to take away Callie’s pain.
sixty-five. Troy
* * *
Home. I was finally back home and it had never felt sweeter. My house. My room. Nana Meggie. I would never take any of them for granted ever again. Now I just needed Mum and Callie to return to complete my circle of relief. After a visit to the hospital to check us both and to strap up my severely sprained ankle, Libby and I sat at the kitchen table, eating the mountainous mass of scrambled eggs, plantain and beans on toast that Nana Meggie had insisted on making for us, despite the late hour. Libby was just picking at it. I was tucking in. And damn, it tasted good. One of the best meals of my life.
Nana Meggie insisted that we both fill her in on every moment from the time we were kidnapped to the time we were rescued. I let Libby do most of the talking while I carried on eating, and Libby didn’t leave anything out. She even told Nana Meggie about her mum’s involvement in our abduction and what had subsequently happened to her. If I’d been telling the story, I might’ve glossed over that bit. When Libby was finished, Nana Meggie turned to her, her expression thoughtful.
‘Libby, you are welcome to stay with us until your dad sorts out a proper home for you.’
‘Thank you, but I couldn’t impose like that—’
‘It’s not an imposition,’ Meggie insisted. ‘It’s an invitation. You certainly can’t go back to your mum’s house and, as you’ve only just reconnected with your dad, he won’t be geared up to have a teenage girl staying with him permanently. Plus he’ll probably be resuming his political duties soon and you shouldn’t be alone. It’s not healthy. So I insist that you stay with us for as long as you like.’
Libby smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘Thank you, Mrs McGregor,’ she whispered.
‘Oh please. Call me Nana Meggie,’ said my nana, smiling. ‘After everything the two of you have been through, this is the best place for you, Libby. It’ll be hard for anyone else to appreciate exactly what you’ve both had to endure over the last couple of days.’
Libby nodded, turning her head away to dash the back of one hand over her eyes. I carried on eating my plantain.
‘When I think what might’ve happened to you,’ Meggie said to us for the umpteenth time. After moving my crutches from where they were leaning against the kitchen table, she told me not to try and retrieve them myself, but to ask her to get them for me when I was ready to move. In between mouthfuls, Meggie kept giving both Libby and me spontaneous hugs. And I didn’t shrug her off or complain like I might’ve done just a few days ago.
I couldn’t believe that so little time had elapsed since Libby and I were grabbed and bundled into the back of that van. It felt like an eternity had passed, should’ve passed. I guess the world never stopped turning. It was what Nana Meggie called a life lesson. As she went off to get another carton of orange juice from the fridge, I took the opportunity to get a word in edgeways.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked Libby.
‘Are you sure your mum won’t mind me staying here for a while?’
‘Nana Meggie doesn’t mind, I don’t mind and Mum won’t mind – I guarantee it,’ I told her. ‘In fact, Mum will probably insist on it too, so just say thank you and then we can talk about something else. OK?’
‘OK.’ Libby smiled.
‘It’s not a big deal, Libby,’ I told her. ‘We’ve got more than enough space.’
‘I’ve already given you the bedroom next to Troy’s. There are fresh sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the bathroom.’ Nana Meggie placed an orange-juice carton on the kitchen table between me and Libby. She added, with a frown, ‘You two won’t be getting up to any hanky-panky, will you?’
Libby’s face whooshed red.
‘First of all, Nana, no one says hanky-panky any more. And, second, no, we most certainly will not. Libby and I are friends and nothing more,’ I said, putting her straight.
Honestly! Nana Meggie was so embarrassing. She had no filter. She just spoke her mind as she saw fit. ‘One of the few perks of being old,’ she always said.
‘Well, if you decide you want to be more than friends, remember to use contraception. No glove, no love,’ said Nana. ‘I’m sure I could find you the odd condom or two knocking about the house if you ask nicely.’
Libby’s face turned beetroot. My face was burning.
‘Oh. My. God! Nana, will you please stop?’
Nana cupped my face with one hand, pinching my cheek and giving me a kiss on the forehead. ‘You know I’m just teasing – though not about using contraception if things between you two head in that direction. Now, d’you two need anything else before I go back to bed?’
‘No, thank you,’ Libby mumbled politely.
‘No. Just go. Please,’ I begged.
With a chuckle, Meggie left the kitchen and headed back to her room.
‘I’m sorry about that. My nana has a peculiar sense of humour when she gets going.’
‘That’s OK,’ said Libby, her face only just resuming its original colour. ‘I like her. You’re lucky you have a family who tease you.’
I couldn’t argue with that.
‘What will you do when the dust has settled?’ I couldn’t help asking. ‘Will you live with your dad?’
‘I don’t know.’ Libby’s fork clattered onto her plate. ‘I don’t know anything any more. I just want to sleep for a week and wake up to a world full of answers.’
I knew what she meant.
The front door opened. Hopefully that was Mum and Callie. One of the police officers who’d brought us home told us that Mum, Callie and Libby’s dad, Tobey, had worked to secure our release. I owed each of them a big hug.
Libby retrieved my crutches and handed them to me. After she’d helped me to my feet, I headed for the hall with Libby right beside me.
Callie and Tobey were in the hall. I looked past them. They were alone. I took a closer look at my sister. She was crying. My heart dropped. A tight band started to contract round my chest.
‘Callie, where’s Mum?’
My sister slowly shook her head.
