Part 19 (1/2)

Kathy sat back, feeling as if she'd been unexpectedly slapped.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Suzanne said. 'I've upset you. Please, forget it. I've had so much on my mind and I-'

'Do you really think that's true?'

'About him, yes. Maybe not about you. Maybe you've just been unlucky with your men. What happened to the one who went to the Middle East?'

'He's moved on to Shanghai.'

'Oh, that is rather inconvenient.' She took another sip of her wine and then said, 'That Canadian you're working with obviously thinks the world of you.'

'What? John Greenslade? You've met him?'

'Yes. He came to the hospital a few days ago, Friday I think, with a beautiful bunch of spring flowers. He said he'd never met Brock, but just wanted to pay his respects. And then we had quite a conversation about you and the work he's helping you with. Quite star-struck, he was.'

Kathy felt a blush creeping up her neck, and was saved from replying by the arrival of their vitello tonnato, the speciality of the house.

TWENTY-ONE.

'Listen, I'm goin' f.u.c.kin' mad. Everybody wants me. I'm gettin' out of here.'

Kathy listened to her ranting down the phone, about being cooped up in quarantine with her mother-in-law, about the press hounding her, about the stupid rumours they were printing, then said, conciliatory, 'It must be terrible for you, Shaka, and I wouldn't bother you again if I could avoid it. Are you at home in Chelsea now?'

'No way. I'm goin' crazy in that house. I'm at Derek's office. The little s.h.i.+t's home in his bed, thinks he's sick now, so I'm hidin' out in his office.'

'I'll come and see you there.'

'I told you, I'm leavin'. Today.'

'Just stay there. I'll be with you in a few minutes. I won't take up much of your time.'

The agent's office was in Golden Square in Soho. In the taxi over there Kathy thought about the plight of Shaka, one of the most beautiful and admired women in the country who was being driven mad by the constant gaze of rapt attention. It was another paradox for Suzanne, she thought. They had parted the previous night on good terms, happy to have renewed their friends.h.i.+p, promising to keep in touch, and there had been a text message from her that morning, thanking Kathy for the meal.

Shaka answered Kathy's ring on the office door on the third floor. Several expensive-looking suitcases were standing inside.

'Where are you going?' Kathy asked.

'Little Ruby Cay. The driver will be here soon to collect me, so you'd better make it quick.'

'All right. When I spoke to you on the night of Mikhail's murder, you described Freddie Clarke and Nigel Hadden-Vane, who were there in the house, as parasites.'

Shaka shrugged. 'Did I?'

'Did you tell Mikhail how you felt about them? How you didn't trust them?'

'They were useful. He used them.'

'I know how he met Freddie, in Luxembourg, but how about Hadden-Vane?'

'Nigel got his claws into Mikhail as soon as he arrived, gettin' him invitations to the right places, introducing him to the right people. Mikhail needed that. h.e.l.l, he even arranged for us to meet. Mikhail saw a picture of me and said something to Nigel, and the next thing we were being introduced at a party. He was like Mikhail's pimp.'

'He got girls for Mikhail?'

'I didn't mean it literally. It was just the way he acted, like a creepy pimp, b.u.t.tering Mikhail up, arranging favours. I hated the way he flattered Mikhail all the time.'

'And you told Mikhail that.'

'Sure.'

'And Nigel knew how you felt?'

'I didn't try to hide it.'

'That would have made Nigel feel pretty insecure, wouldn't it?'

Shaka's mobile began playing a tune and she turned away to answer it with a few curt words, then said, 'The driver's here in two minutes.'

'How does Nigel get on with the rest of Mikhail's family?'

'All right I suppose, all except his mother. He can't stand Marta.'

'Why not?'

'Because she's a poisonous old witch. ”Nigel,”' she whined, '”You get me to meet Queen Elizabeth. Nigel, you get citizens.h.i.+p for Uncle Boris.” She's a f.u.c.kin' pain. n.o.body can stand her. Even Mikhail had had enough.'

'How do you mean?'

'Oh, they had a blazin' row.'

'When was this?'

'Not long before Mikhail died. I was away on a shoot. It must have been the Tuesday or Wednesday of that week. He was very upset that evenin' when I got back. The old b.i.t.c.h had been givin' him a hard time about something, he wouldn't say what.'

The buzzer on the office door sounded.

'Okay,' Shaka said. 'Gotta go.'

'Have a nice break.'

'Yeah, thanks. It was our favourite place, Mikhail and me. We were happy there. No paparazzi, no Marta.'

'How about the parasites? Did they go?'

'Oh yeah.'

'Aren't you worried about leaving now, Shaka? Aren't you afraid they may try to rip you off while you're away?'