forty-one

“I’m in over my head,” I confessed to Stannard late that evening.

“Troy’s killer is a nutter.”

“A psychopath would be a more apt description.”

“Right up your alley.”

“Blood and bones, a miserable lonely death. Hardly.” I made a mental note to talk to Jim.

“Well, watch your back,” Stannard said without irony. “And Otto Vellender. All that chopping up in the kitchen, he has the means and, I don’t care what you think, he has the motivation.”

It didn’t square with my thinking, but I didn’t argue.

“Going back to the timing,” Stannard said. “That fits, too.”

“Not necessarily and only if Vellender is an illusionist.”

Stannard fell briefly silent. “You say Troy wanted to meet, but failed to show up?”

“Right. Which means he could have been killed at any time between his disappearance sometime on Wednesday and when he was found.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I remembered Otto’s phone call at the pub. The cold, dead hand of fear struck out to grab me by the throat again.

“Do you have any clue what Martell wanted to talk to you about?”

“I assumed Nicholas.”

Stannard factored it in. “Didn’t you say that Otto drew your attention to Troy at dinner?”

“It was the first thing he said.”

“How did he appear?”

“Relaxed.”

“He would.”

“I don’t think Otto killed Troy on Friday night. The whole kitchen would notice him missing.”

“Unless the timing was off, in which case it doesn’t exactly exonerate Otto Vellender.”

That’s what freaked me out.

“You really do need to take care, Kim.”

“I know. I am.”

He thought for a moment. I could literally hear him contemplating down the line. “If not Otto, who else do you reckon could be good for it?”

“Troy Martell was a big guy, fit and strong, rippling with muscles. Whoever killed him took a risk.”

“A calculated one. Stabbing a guy in the back mitigates the possibility of a counter attack, surely?”

“And that’s my point—it’s cowardly and sneaky, not Otto’s style.”

“You know him that well?”

Did I detect a tinge of jealousy? I thought back to the crime scene shots. There was skill in the artistry, if you could call it that. Stannard didn’t wait for a response. “What about Paris Vellender—a crime of passion?” he said.

The jealous rage scenario was tempting, but it didn’t fly with me. “Not unless I discover she has a load of toy boy skeletons already in her cupboard.”

“Any way you can find out?”

“I think I’ll leave that to the police, if you don’t mind.”

“But she threatened you, remember?”

“Then why not stick a knife in my back?”

“Who says she won’t?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Important to keep one’s sense of humour intact.”

I let out a tired sigh. This was no joking matter. “You’re missing the bigger picture.”

“What’s that?”

“Cops will be all over her.” Hadn’t the police done the same when Chris was murdered? They’d had me down as numero uno suspect from the start.

Stannard sighed. “Back to square one then. Looks like we’re missing a trick.”

“Or a person.”

“Yeah?”

“What if the one person I can’t find is off radar for a reason?”

“You mean Nicholas Vellender?” Stannard’s voice sharpened.

“The mysterious missing man.” People went into hiding for one of two reasons: because of what someone else has done, a view expressed by both Mimi and Troy; or because of what they’ve done to someone else. Had Nicholas carried out something so awful he needed to disappear? I racked my brains, trying to claw back what Otto had told me about his son. Something not right with him. I hadn’t pursued it at the time. Now I wished I had.

Stannard sliced into my thoughts. “As theories go, not bad. What’s his motivation?”

“According to his father, he was obsessed with his mother. It plays into Troy’s theory that she was protecting her son. Maybe Nicholas didn’t like the competition.”

“Kinky. Hate to be the prophet of doom but, presuming young Nicholas is still in the land of the living, you don’t stand a hope in hell of finding him now. Cops will be thinking the same thing. They’ll review his disappearance. Any attempt you make will draw fire from the law.”

He was right and Slater’s line of questioning confirmed it.

“You’d better get more sneaky and persistent.”

“Thanks very much, and how do you propose I do that, oh wise one?” There were plenty of other areas of town to cover, but it wasn’t exactly a scientific approach, more a question of pin the tail on the donkey.

“Talk to his mates?”

“He didn’t have any, according to Troy.” Which was also a worry.

“Girls?”

“Nada.” My head hurt with thinking. Who was he? Nicholas the loner? Nicholas no-mates? Sensitive soul or someone sinister with deviant tendencies? Once I’d believed it would be relatively easy to track him down. In his continuing absence, I doubted his very existence. If he were alive, it would be like looking for a diamond in a swimming pool. “How’s the face?” I said by way of a diversion.

“Beautiful.”

“Modest as ever. When are they letting you out?”

“I am out. I’m convalescing in a five-star hotel with wall to wall luxury and room service.”

“You’re a bloody health tourist, Stannard,” I said with a laugh.

“Don’t knock it. I’ll be back in the UK next week. Looks like you need someone to take care of you. Think you’ll recognise me?”

I smiled. For someone who’d welcomed his departure, I realised how much I needed him, beautiful or not.