She looked at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Like you’ve only got one? Evidence, I’m afraid. You’ll get it back.Eventually. Jump in, then. I’ve got a date with a bath and a bottle of Merlot.’
Tudor was glad the journey to his own car was a short one. While they had been processing the events that took place in Flat Seven they had both been in professional mode. With their work done, and now in the confines of DI Chowdhury’s BMW, however, they were joined by a prickly silence. He looked out of the window, seeing nothing but forcing himself not to think back. The past was the past. They were different people now.
‘So, after Afghanistan, bit of high level security, you say, and now…’ she paused to curse at a white van and blast her horn before continuing, ‘…a bodyguard. Bit tame for you, isn’t it?’
‘Not today.’
‘Yeah, but, babysitting a rich kid? Really?’
‘Pays the bills. Keeps me nearer home.’
The detective took her eyes off the road to check his expression briefly. ‘How is Emily?’ she asked.
At the mention of his daughter’s name, Tudor checked his phone. He found the text he knew would be there.Where the hell are you? We are going to be late.He sent a line about being held up and promising to be there as soon as he could. ‘She’s good, thanks,’ he said.
‘She must be, what, thirteen now?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘OM fucking G.’
‘Exactly.’
After a beat DI Chowdhury asked, ‘And Marisa?’
‘Oh, you know Marisa… not a woman to change,’ he replied, just a bit too flippantly. ‘You can drop me here,’ he added.
When the car came to a halt at the curb he climbed out, leaning back in to thank her briefly for the lift.
‘It was good seeing you again,’ she told him.
He nodded. ‘You too, Debs,’ he said, and was surprised to find he meant it. For a moment he thought of saying something, re-establishing the connection. She saw him hesitate and waited. But, no. Too much going on. Too complicated. Never go back. She noticed the shutters going down and switched back to professional mode.
‘So, don’t leave town; we’ll be in touch,’ she said, pulling away before he had properly swung the door shut.
Tudor checked his watch. The later he was picking Emily up, the longer it would take to calm her down. And he was too tired for a long fight. He ran up the steps to the Aurora, using his keycard to gain entry to the lobby. The concierge spotted him at once andopened the inner doors. They exchanged a few words, expressing their mutual shock at what had taken place, before he hurried up to the Wallace apartment. Charlie was more excited than alarmed by the news of the gruesome killings. With what Tudor considered to be typical teenage detachment, he listened with some relish to the details, prodding for ever more description, almost enjoying the horror. If Tudor hadn’t been accustomed to the way kids thought, and how what they showed was often at odds with what they felt, he would have been pissed off at the boy. As it was, he was content that his charge was neither traumatised, nor in danger, and could be left to settle in to the apartment, on the proviso that he call his mother and not leave the flat until the following day.
As Tudor unlocked his Audi he noticed two figures out of place. They looked to be young men, hanging around, watching the building. Both were wearing hoodies and keeping to the shadow of the trees at the entrance to the car parking area. They weren’t doing anything wrong, and there was nothing remarkable about the way they looked. They just didn’t fit. Tudor’s trained eye took in the expensive trainers, the bits of bling, the slight restlessness. Too well off for your basic thugs. Too sketchy to be residents of the area, let along the building. They became aware that they hadbeen noticed. One flicked a cigarette into the flower bed. The other turned his back, kicking at a stone. The pair walked away, knowing they were being observed. Even so, the taller of the two looked back, checking on Tudor one last time before they turned a corner and were gone.
Emily had inherited her father’s dark eyes and strong physique. From her mother she had acquired her super fast brain and, less helpfully, her quick temper. When he reached her house in Fulham she was waiting outside, arms folded, gym bag at her feet.
Tudor lowered the window and tried a smile.
‘I hate you,’ she said.
‘Good to see you, too, Pumpkin.’
‘You are such a prick.’
‘But a prick with a car. Come on, hop in.’
‘Oh,nowhe’s in a hurry! Keeps me waiting over an hour, makes me lateagain, but now I have to get a move on. Jeez.’ She stomped round and jumped into the passenger seat, giving the door a well practiced slam.
Tudor put his foot down. The fact was, Emily had his sympathy. He hated being late, and couldn’t blame her for being pissed off with him. It was a long way from being the first time. And their sessions at the gym mattered to her because Tae Kwan Do mattered to her.It was their thing. If he messed it up she read it as he didn’t care. And that hurt. Both of them.
‘There was an incident. At the apartment building. I had to go to the police station and give a statement.’
‘Like I care.’
