is.’
Sadler exhaled a deep breath. ‘You think this is part of something bigger? Connie’s investigating a possible sighting, and Palmer’s looking at the identity of the original victim. Do you have anything in mind?’
Llewellyn stood up to leave. ‘Take my advice. Start with the affair. That man was found in Lena Gray’s bed. What do you think he was doing there? Having a kip? This case revolves around sex. That’s where you need to start.’
19
The pale sunshine lifted Kat’s spirits as she drove to the small studio she rented for her therapy sessions. She opened the door and went to put some flowers in a glass vase in an attempt to brighten the place. When she’d first qualified, Lena had suggested Kat use one of the downstairs rooms of their house for her practice. Kat had swallowed the retort that had come to her lips and merely said that she wanted to split her professional and home life. Which, in a sense, was true. But the idea of meeting clients in one of the rooms with peeling wallpaper and shabby furniture was laughable. Anyway, it was Lena who had always identified with the house. At some point Kat would need to make her escape. Perhaps sooner rather than later. When she found Lena, she would have it out with her. It was nonsense holding on to the place.
Kat’s first client of the day was Miriam, who was invariably late. Kat kept rigidly to her slots. Miriam’s appointment was at 9.30. If she turned up at 9.40, the session would still finish at 10.30. In this regard, Miriam had run the gamut of emotions, from outrage at paying for a shortened session to pleading for a bit of tolerance. Now she faced the routine with a calm acceptance. At no point had she considered changing her behaviour.
Kat glanced at the clock. Ten past. She had at least twenty minutes to wait, almost certainly longer. She pulled out her iPad and looked at some of the online sites. News of a body at Hale’s End was being reported, but that was it. The coverage was sober and, to her mind, uninterested. Even the location of the body was failing to spark much interest from journalists looking for an angle for sensationalism. A middle-aged man wasn’t providing that for them. For the moment. She wondered how things would change when news of his identity was revealed.
She shut down the news page and opened up her diary. There was little point. She knew she would be seeing only three clients today. She could have recited the appointment times in her sleep. It was another reason for her childhood room in Providence Villa. She was barely keeping her head afloat. She had known counselling wasn’t lucrative from the first time around but she’d anticipated more clients than she had been able to muster.
The last person she would be seeing today was Mark. When she had written up her notes from the previous session, she had emphasised the unexpected email he had received from his mother. She had made no mention of his subsequent text.
She heard a rattle on the door and looked up in surprise. The clock said twenty past. Surely Miriam wasn’t early? Kat got up and opened the front door. Standing in front of her was a boy wearing a grey sweatshirt and jeans. His white Converse trainers were grubby. The hood of his top was pulled up and underneath Kat could only see the pair of brown eyes and pale skin. He looked young – mid-teens, she guessed.
‘You Kat?’ He was softly spoken, his voice barely above a whisper. He was holding out something in his hand. A small package wrapped in newspaper. She looked behind him at the cobbled courtyard. It was empty, although she could see one of the shops to the left had its lights on. It comforted her that there was help nearby. She took the parcel from him, and he turned and walked off. Not fast.
‘Hold on!’ She ran after him. ‘What’s this?’ She held out the package to him, afraid to open it. ‘Who are you?’
He tugged at his hood, pulling it further down over his eyes. ‘A
Sadler exhaled a deep breath. ‘You think this is part of something bigger? Connie’s investigating a possible sighting, and Palmer’s looking at the identity of the original victim. Do you have anything in mind?’
Llewellyn stood up to leave. ‘Take my advice. Start with the affair. That man was found in Lena Gray’s bed. What do you think he was doing there? Having a kip? This case revolves around sex. That’s where you need to start.’
19
The pale sunshine lifted Kat’s spirits as she drove to the small studio she rented for her therapy sessions. She opened the door and went to put some flowers in a glass vase in an attempt to brighten the place. When she’d first qualified, Lena had suggested Kat use one of the downstairs rooms of their house for her practice. Kat had swallowed the retort that had come to her lips and merely said that she wanted to split her professional and home life. Which, in a sense, was true. But the idea of meeting clients in one of the rooms with peeling wallpaper and shabby furniture was laughable. Anyway, it was Lena who had always identified with the house. At some point Kat would need to make her escape. Perhaps sooner rather than later. When she found Lena, she would have it out with her. It was nonsense holding on to the place.
Kat’s first client of the day was Miriam, who was invariably late. Kat kept rigidly to her slots. Miriam’s appointment was at 9.30. If she turned up at 9.40, the session would still finish at 10.30. In this regard, Miriam had run the gamut of emotions, from outrage at paying for a shortened session to pleading for a bit of tolerance. Now she faced the routine with a calm acceptance. At no point had she considered changing her behaviour.
Kat glanced at the clock. Ten past. She had at least twenty minutes to wait, almost certainly longer. She pulled out her iPad and looked at some of the online sites. News of a body at Hale’s End was being reported, but that was it. The coverage was sober and, to her mind, uninterested. Even the location of the body was failing to spark much interest from journalists looking for an angle for sensationalism. A middle-aged man wasn’t providing that for them. For the moment. She wondered how things would change when news of his identity was revealed.
She shut down the news page and opened up her diary. There was little point. She knew she would be seeing only three clients today. She could have recited the appointment times in her sleep. It was another reason for her childhood room in Providence Villa. She was barely keeping her head afloat. She had known counselling wasn’t lucrative from the first time around but she’d anticipated more clients than she had been able to muster.
The last person she would be seeing today was Mark. When she had written up her notes from the previous session, she had emphasised the unexpected email he had received from his mother. She had made no mention of his subsequent text.
She heard a rattle on the door and looked up in surprise. The clock said twenty past. Surely Miriam wasn’t early? Kat got up and opened the front door. Standing in front of her was a boy wearing a grey sweatshirt and jeans. His white Converse trainers were grubby. The hood of his top was pulled up and underneath Kat could only see the pair of brown eyes and pale skin. He looked young – mid-teens, she guessed.
‘You Kat?’ He was softly spoken, his voice barely above a whisper. He was holding out something in his hand. A small package wrapped in newspaper. She looked behind him at the cobbled courtyard. It was empty, although she could see one of the shops to the left had its lights on. It comforted her that there was help nearby. She took the parcel from him, and he turned and walked off. Not fast.
‘Hold on!’ She ran after him. ‘What’s this?’ She held out the package to him, afraid to open it. ‘Who are you?’
He tugged at his hood, pulling it further down over his eyes. ‘A
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