The Unquiet Dead (14 page)

Khattak's interaction with Nathan Clare was stilted, but Audrey's presence seemed specially designed to dilute the uneasiness. Maybe she'd been invited for the same reason as Audrey: to preserve a barrier between the two men.

“We're ignoring Rachel,” Audrey said, laughing. “That's really rather odious of you two. First you drag her out here after a long day's work and then you don't even ask if her drink needs topping up.”

“I'm fine,” Rachel said quickly. “I'm driving home in the rain, so this is my limit.”

“And where is home?” Audrey persisted. “Surely you can't mean to drive across town at this hour. There's traffic closures everywhere, it will be a nightmare.” Her voice was genuinely friendly, genuinely interested—genuinely everything that was affable and good-natured if Rachel had had the patience for it.

“All part of the job.” Her eyes met Khattak's. “I should be going now, sir.”

“Sir?” Audrey hooted. “How long have you two worked together, did you say? Ruksh says Esa always calls you Rachel.”

Rachel didn't know who Ruksh was. She fought down the swift bubble of pleasure that her name was ever mentioned in any context outside of work.

Suddenly abashed, Audrey must have realized how she sounded. “I'm sorry, Rachel, I didn't mean to presume. I know what police work can be like.”

How? Rachel wondered.

“First, let me tell you some of the things that
Inspector
Khattak may be too tight-lipped to divulge. Esa has a sister my age—we grew up together. Her name is Rukshanda. Naturally, as the much younger sisters of two devastating men, we developed a
tendresse
for each other's brothers. We grew out of it, of course.”

Her face was aglow with laughter in the soft light of the fire.

“Though not before I attempted a religious conversion and started to wear a headscarf. Unfortunately, my lack of flowing tresses made me no more attractive to what I then determined was quite a dim-witted federal investigator.” She made a moue of distress, inviting the others to laugh. “Ruksh was equally foolish about Nate, which was the only thing that prevented me from retreating to the attic to die of mortification. I'm sure Esa kept all my love poems, though. Unless Samina disposed of them?”

A swift glance at Rachel's confusion and she added, “Samina, Esa's wife. I hope you don't mind me telling Rachel, Esa. She's your partner, after all.”

Khattak held up his hand. “Yes, Rachel's
my
partner, sprite.” He turned to her, his face grave. “I should have mentioned her before. We were married very young, and then some years later, my wife was killed in an accident.”

“I'm very sorry, sir.” She didn't know what else to say, taken aback by the information. There was more than pain in his face. There was guilt. Was it the reason he'd never shared this with her before? Or was it simply that he was more unguarded around his friends?

“She was the loveliest person, Rachel,” Nathan said. “You would have liked her very much.”

Despite herself, she felt touched. This was a gathering of old friends—she was the outsider. Yet everyone was taking so much trouble over her. She knew it could only have been because of the way Khattak had spoken of her. She felt valued, respected, a feeling she rarely experienced at home. The only thing Don Getty had taught her was how to be tough. Kindness she had learned from Zach, and in rare stolen moments from her mother.

When she overlooked her outsider status, she realized the story Audrey had confided was actually quite funny.

“Er … how old were you during this headscarf incident?”

Audrey seized her hand in delighted response.

“You won't blackmail me with that, will you, Rachel? It really was too dreadful—here I was convinced that anointing myself with new religious credentials would make me irresistible to my very first deathly crush—” She took a moment to squeeze Khattak's hand. “And instead he looked at me as if I'd grown another head. Too, too devastating. If it wasn't for Ruksh, I'm convinced I'd have thrown myself into the lake, painfully itchy headscarf and all.”

Rachel's sudden smile was unguarded. She looked up to find Nathan's attention upon her. “Wearing the scarf is an art, I'm told.”

He responded in kind. “The art Audrey favors most is drama. It's there in everything she does, even her choice of profession.”

“You're an actor?” Rachel asked.

There was another delighted spurt of laughter.

“Nate loves to tease. No, I run a small NGO working with women. I went to university and then I didn't know what to do with myself. I couldn't possibly live up to Nathan's prestige but I thought, here's something I can do. I embroil him in it constantly but I secretly think he uses it as material for his books.”

“Then he's overdue,” Rachel said, feeling her way. “It's been some time since
Apologia
was published. Have you been working on something new?”

It was an innocuous question. There was no reason why it should have sent the conversation crashing to the ground. She looked from one face to another, puzzled. Khattak's gaze found the window. Audrey bit her lip. Nathan cleared his throat, searching for words.

“I've—not been writing much lately. It seems I can't find anything else to say.”

It was clear that he addressed these words to Khattak. They were met with silence.

“Writer's block?” Rachel ventured, though common sense told her to drop the subject. “It's sort of an occupational hazard, isn't it?”

“Like drunken domestics for police officers,” he agreed.

Rachel stiffened. His guileless eyes—lovely eyes, really, flecked with bits of bronze and green—indicated it was a random hit.

“All in a day's work,” she repeated.

“I hear you're investigating Chris Drayton's fall.” It was meant by Audrey as a change of subject. Khattak took it as such.

“There are some leads we're following up,” he said to Nate. “Some unresolved questions as to background and finances. I've been wondering about that dinner you mentioned—the one you arranged for Drayton to speak about the museum.”

“I've seen your car at Mink's house a few times this week. So it's the museum that interests you.”

This was news to Rachel. Khattak hadn't mentioned it to her, and she wondered why. He was often reticent at the beginning of an investigation but seldom secretive.

“She's an interesting woman,” he said without emphasis.

Nate stared across the table at him, a sudden glint of discovery in his eyes.

“Fascinating is how I would put it. If she's with a potential donor for less than half an hour, she doesn't leave empty-handed.”

“You set up the dinner specifically for the museum, then.”

“Not exactly. It was Chris who asked me to arrange it. He was adamant about getting on the board of the museum. He thought of it as a prestige project, something that a man at his stage of life should attach himself to. He was willing to pay his way in. Mink was somewhat resistant to the idea, so Chris thought a dinner might soften her up.”

“I'd have thought she'd welcome an influx of money,” said Rachel. “The upkeep on that place can't be cheap.”

“It's not. The house is worth upwards of a million dollars. Most of the exhibits were already in Mink's possession, but if she wanted to expand, Drayton's investment certainly wouldn't have hurt. And from his perspective, gaining a reputation as patron of the arts was essential to his sense of himself.”

“How long has Ringsong been here? Inspector Khattak said he hadn't seen it before. In the past, I mean. Whenever you saw each other last.”

She stumbled over the words, aware that she'd inadvertently trespassed.

Nate rescued her. “It's been about two years. A year to build and a year for Mink to get the museum on its feet. It's due to open very soon, so I know this phase of things is critical.”

“Do you expect it to open on time?” Rachel asked. Probably Khattak had asked Mink the same questions. She still wanted to hear. “Would there be any reason for Drayton's death to delay it?”

“I can't think of any. Mink is very capable. I've never known her to run overbudget or behind schedule.”

“And did you make a contribution, sir?”

“Please. At least call me Nathan. Or Nate if you like, all my friends do. It was Andalusia,” he said with a fond glance at Khattak. “The golden age. How could I not?”

“You sound as though you and Ms. Norman are quite close.”

It was a question pertinent to the investigation. Somehow it came out sounding as if Rachel were jealous. She found herself blushing. Khattak, too, appeared oddly interested in the answer.

Nathan's glance traveled between them, a suspicion of mirth in it.

“I wouldn't say I've spent as much time at Ringsong in one week as Esa has but yes, we're friends. I find the project mesmerizing: Mink's passion for it is contagious. And it's been good for the girls too—Hadley and Cass. It's saved them from being used as ammunition between their parents and it's given them a sense of purpose. Mink knows how to make people feel valued. It's certainly given Marco more freedom to hang about.”

“Riv,” Audrey corrected.

“I refuse to call a seventeen-year-old boy Riv when he has a perfectly acceptable first name.”

Audrey punched him good-naturedly in the arm. She opened her mouth to respond when the door to the pub gave way, divulging a new group of patrons. Her face froze in an expression of dismay. In a swift gesture under the table, she pressed her brother's hand.

Rachel swiveled in her seat. The new arrivals were a group of cops, mostly in uniform. They laughed and talked easily, stopping at the bar to give their order. In their midst was an extraordinarily beautiful woman whose dazzling features and wickedly curved body drew the eye of every man in the room. She was dramatically dark-eyed and dark-lashed, raindrops clinging to her hair and gliding down the silky skin of her cheek. She wore a skin-tight dress made of some metallic material that gathered the light inward and clung to every curve. With a sexy pout, she bent before the fire to warm her hands.

It was like a bomb had gone off, sucking all the air from the room.

Conversations were suddenly louder, her companions jostled each other to get close to her. Her smile beguiled: her movements were sinfully lithe as she touched one man's cheek, ruffled another's hair, squeezed the elbow of a third.

Was Rachel imagining it or were there sparks of electricity in the waves of her jet-black hair?

The woman looked over and caught them watching her. She checked mid-movement, disentangled herself from her companions, and made her way to their table, where she dismissed Rachel and Audrey without a second glance.

“Look who's here!” Of course her voice would be low and throaty. She leaned over the table, enveloping them in the musk of her perfume. Her smile glittered between the heavy wings of her hair.

“Nathan, darling! More devastating than ever!”

She turned the other way, saw Khattak, widened her black eyes fractionally and sailed on. “The old gang, together again. How perfectly wonderful! You've brought along a plaything, I see.” Her sleek white hand pointed at Rachel, the dark eyes sweeping over her and away. “Not up to your usual standard, Esa.” She dragged the name out, catching her tongue between her teeth. “I hope you boys aren't fighting over her the way you fought over me.”

Her laugh was a sexy growl in her throat. She accompanied it with a pivot of her hip, thrusting her décolletage at Nate. “Have you missed me? You never have me anymore.” She brought her hand to her lush mouth, miming dismay. “I meant, you never have me over anymore. Surely my portrait doesn't warm your bed?”

Rachel choked on the heady scent that clung to the woman, just able to discern the contempt on Audrey's face through the cloud of fragrance around her.

“You're drunk, Laine,” Nathan said with disgust. “Go back to your friends.”

“I thought I was among friends,” she purred in return. “Don't you remember how to be friendly, darling? Don't you remember lying on your back and begging me not to stop? Or was that you?” Whiplash quick, she turned to Esa. “Men! So easily interchangeable, so easy to forget.” Before Esa could object, she leaned down and kissed him full on the lips. “There! I
thought
I remembered you. As decadent as ever.”

Khattak got to his feet, politely shouldered Rachel aside.

“If this performance is for my benefit, I'll put an end to it by leaving. Rachel, I'll call you tomorrow. Thank you for coming out.”

“Rachel?” Laine crowed. “As gloriously humdrum as the rest of you! Audrey darling, don't tell me you've become so petty that you haven't thought to give Little Miss Dreary the makeover she's gasping for. She'll need it to stoke that libido, am I right?” She stood chest-to-chest with Khattak.

“Shut up, Laine,” he said brutally. He signaled one of the men behind her shoulder, offloading Laine into his arms. “Your friend is drunk. Kindly take her with you.”

“I'm not drunk, sexy,” she called over her shoulder, as she was guided to the fire. “I miss you, Esa, I miss your bed.”

Khattak muttered an imprecation under his breath and an apology aloud to Rachel.

“Why did you ask her here?” he said to Nathan. “You've learned nothing, have you?”

Nate scrambled to his feet. “Esa, wait—I didn't call her. This was an accident, you have to believe me.”

“Like you believed me?” He didn't wait for an answer.

*   *   *

Defeated, Nate sank back into his seat. “Goddamn her.”

“Who
was
that?” Rachel breathed. The woman had descended on them like a tornado, leaving just as much destruction in her wake.