“They must have got in by mistake,” said Kit.
Neku’s mouth twisted. “Japanese police,” she said, “don’t make that kind of mistake. Not unless they intend to.”
“What are the papers?”
She hesitated. “A report on a murder. A list of collectors known to buy stolen ceramics. A credit check on Pirate Mary’s. One of the reports links you to a career criminal known to be making trips to Tokyo. Kathryn Robbe-Duras, nee O’Mally.”
“She never took Pat’s name,” said Kit. “And she’s retired.”
“This is the woman No Neck mentioned? The one who called you this morning?”
“Yes,” said Kit.
“She’s an old friend?”
Kit shook his head. “An enemy,” he said. “An old enemy.”
Neku nodded. It seemed she could understand that.
The buzzer sounded at midnight. Since the row of buttons beside the front door was illuminated and Sophie had already warned Kit that drunks used the courtyard to piss or worse, he ignored it. At which point the noise got louder as whoever it was began to kick the door instead.
Scrambling for his jeans, Kit reached the landing in time to hear Sophie open the door herself. “Prove it,” he heard her say, and a second later the front door shut and Sophie began stamping her way upstairs. She was swearing.
“It’s the police,” she said. “Well, one of them. A big fucker. Apparently he wants to talk to you.”
“Where is he?”
“Outside. I told him to get a warrant if he wants to come in. Unless, of course, he thinks we’re terrorists, in which case I suggested he organise back-up and a few guns…”
“And what did he say?” Kit could imagine what a Japanese policeman would have said. Actually, Kit couldn’t, because he doubted anyone in Japan would leave a police officer on the doorstep, far less be that rude to them.
“Some bollocks about Section 44. So I told him I used to be a lawyer.”
“Were you?”
Sophie shrugged. “A paralegal…It’s close enough. Do you want a witness? Because I can stay around if you need.”
“It’ll be fine,” promised Kit.
There were a dozen reasons why this was unlikely to be true. Desertion from the British Army had no statute of limitations. So the original arrest warrant was technically valid. And you didn’t go AWOL only to return to the place that issued the arrest warrant unless you were stupid, or had people like Mr. Oniji suggesting you go back to your own country for a while.
And that was before Kit even factored in Kate O’Mally, his own guilt at Yoshi’s death, or his memories of Mary.
“You certain?” Sophie asked.
“Sure,” said Kit, nodding his thanks.
“Whatever,” she said. “Call me if you need me…”
“Mr. Noover?”
“Nouveau,” said Kit, looking out into the half darkness. An officer in uniform was back-lit by lights from beyond the arch. Flicking on the hall lights, Kit saw the huge man blink.
“Come in,” said Kit.
“You don’t want to see my search warrant, sir?”
“Have you got one?”
A sour smile.
“Whatever,” said Kit. “Come in anyway.”
Without waiting to see if the officer would follow, Kit made his way towards the stairs and heard the front door click behind him. As the two of them passed the door to Sophie’s flat, her door opened slightly and then shut again.
“She didn’t like me.”
“It’s late,” said Kit. “You worried her.”
“Really, sir? Well, people who don’t like the police worry me.”
By the time they reached the top landing the officer was stopping for the occasional rest and gasping for breath. Kit found that oddly reassuring. “In here,” he said, undoing the door. “Let me get some candles…I’m waiting for the electric to come back on.”
Only a candle was already burning and Neku stood in the kitchen doorway.
“I heard noises,” she said.
A flame lit her fingers, until Kit looked again and the match went out, leaving Neku outlined in flame and a thin sodium haze that filtered between the slats of a wooden blind. It didn’t help that Neku was dressed in her black jersey and very little else.
“Go back to bed,” said Kit.
The girl gave him a look, but disappeared as ordered.
“How old is she?” asked the officer.
Kit shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never asked.”
Silence followed this answer. And when Kit finished finding a saucer for the candle, it was to find the huge man staring at him.
“What?” said Kit.
“You send her to your bed and you don’t know how old she is? People like you need to be more careful.” All pretence of politeness was gone, along with the sirs the officer had been dropping into his sentences like redundant punctuation.
“She’s not going to my bed,” said Kit.
He watched the officer leave the kitchen and count off the exits leading from the tiny hall; front door, half-open bedroom door, and one other, from behind which came the flush of a lavatory. As the officer watched, that door opened and Neku stalked out, stared straight through both of them, and left the flat. A second later, an unseen door crashed shut, rather louder than was necessary.
“Roof garden,” said Kit. “She’s got a mattress.”
The huge officer ran his fingers through thinning hair and wiped his hands on his trousers. The sheer smallness of Mary’s flat seemed to be giving him problems. “Mattress?” he said, before deciding not to take it further.
Digging into his pocket, the man produced a leather wallet and flipped it open. A badge inside introduced him as Sergeant Samson. That was all Kit had time to see before the Sergeant flipped it shut and stuffed the wallet back into his jacket.
“I’ve got some questions,” he said. “I’d be grateful if you’d answer them honestly…”
“If I can,” Kit said.
“You were a friend of Mary O’Mally?” The Sergeant obviously had no doubts that Kate’s daughter was dead.
Kit nodded, embarrassed to feel almost sick with relief. It seemed the questions were about Mary, rather than him.
“When did you last see her?”
“About three days after the funeral of a friend…”
“And how long ago was this?”
PART II
CHAPTER 35 — Flashback
The love affair of Kit’s life began to unravel two weeks after Kit and Mary first made love and three weeks before Josh crashed his bike. It began unravelling in Mary’s bedroom at Seven Chimneys with an argument about cars.
“Gently,” she said. Mary wasn’t happy to be squatting naked on top of Kit and kept glancing at her stomach. The first two fucks of that day had been great, but this was one too many and it was Kit’s fault for being greedy.
“Here,” he said, folding a sheet around her shoulders. “Better?”
Mary nodded.
It was complicated, because Mary was going out with Josh. Well, technically…except Josh was in Paris for a fortnight with his parents. So he and Mary would need to talk when Josh got back.
“You love me?”
They’d been through this. The first time two weeks earlier, beside the potato field, as the sun edged its way between two hills and stained the spire of St. Peter’s with the first rays of dawn. Kit had been impressed that Mary waited until after he took off her clothes. “Of course I do,” said Kit, which had been his answer then.
“Say it,” Mary demanded.
So Kit did.
“Mean it,” she said.