Bloody Valentine, Page 2

Zee had persuaded Jack to employ Ted. But Jack had made it clear, even after three months of satisfactory work, that Ted was still ‘on trial’.

  ‘I’m here, Mr Barnes.’ Ted appeared on the stairs that led down to the basement. ‘I’ve been checking the chemicals in the swimming pool.’

  ‘Are they all right?’ Jack was concerned because Zee used the pool.

  ‘Everything’s fine. You can swim any time.’

  ‘If you’ve nothing else to do before beginning your shift, Ted, I’m off.’ Damian left the desk.

  ‘To write another book?’ Jack asked. Damian worked the night shift so he could write his science fiction and horror books in peace – although he had yet to sell one.

  ‘Just started a new one, Mr Barnes.’ Damian disappeared down the stairs leading to the basement apartments that he and Ted occupied.

  ‘There’s a leak under the sink in Michael and Anni’s studio, Ted. Look at it after you’ve taken in the post. If you can’t fix it, call a plumber.’

  ‘Will do, Mr Barnes.’

  Jack stepped outside. He loved London. The old buildings, the newspaper boys and stalls on street corners.

  The twenty-minute walk to his office above his flagship restaurant in Soho was his ‘thinking time’. Given the plans he was making for his romantic weekend with Zee, he was enjoying his thoughts.

  Jack heard Adrian as he turned the corner. Every chef who worked for him had a voice louder than a rock star and a vile temper. He wondered if the profession attracted angry people, or if they became that way after working in hot kitchens.

  He entered the restaurant. Adrian was standing outside the kitchen door, the staff crowding around him, open-mouthed, listening to his every word.

  Chapter Three

  Adrian was an excellent mimic and sounded more like Bruno than Bruno. ‘I’ll follow you in ten minutes,’ Adrian boomed in Bruno’s voice before reverting to his own. ‘That’s what Bruno said when I left the apartment. Ten minutes! That was three hours ago. Bruno was lying in bed then and I bet that’s where Bruno is now. Leaving me to do all the work.’

  ‘You have a problem, Adrian?’ Jack asked.

  ‘I have a big problem, Mr Barnes. His name is Bruno. He wouldn’t get out of bed this morning.’

  Jack looked at the junior chefs and waitresses. ‘All of you, back to work,’ he ordered. They walked away, but Jack knew from the silence that they were still listening.

  ‘Is Bruno ill?’ Jack asked.

  ‘He complained he had a headache. I gave him two aspirin and he said he’d follow me. But …’ Adrian flung his arms wide. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Bruno doesn’t often have headaches,’ Jack commented. ‘I’ll phone the apartment and check he’s all right.’

  ‘There’s no point,’ Adrian argued. ‘He’s not answering the telephone and he’s switched off his mobile. He never gets up when he has a brandy headache.’

  ‘A brandy headache?’ Jack repeated. ‘Bruno was drunk last night?’

  ‘He was.’

  ‘Bruno doesn’t drink on work nights.’

  ‘Not usually,’ Adrian confirmed. ‘But someone sent him a bottle yesterday.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The note was signed, “Grateful customer”. It was sent to the kitchen before we closed. I knew there’d be trouble when Bruno took it home. I supervised the cleaning here. When I got back to Barnes Building, Bruno was watching TV and the bottle was half empty. I went to bed. When I got up this morning, I looked for the bottle and there was only this much –’ Adrian put his finger and thumb close together ‘left in the bottom. After what Bruno drank, he won’t want to get up this afternoon, this evening, or tomorrow morning either.’

  ‘I’ll leave a message on his voicemail and send a messenger to make sure it’s only a hangover,’ Jack said. ‘Can you cope? Or should I send for agency staff?’

  Adrian tossed his head in the air. ‘Agency staff can’t tell a carrot from an onion, and I’ve yet to work with one who can boil an egg. I’ll just have to cope.’

  Jack knew better than to contradict a chef. ‘If you need help, see me. I’ll be in the office all morning.’

  ‘You won’t forget to send a messenger to Bruno, Mr Barnes?’

  ‘I won’t.’ Jack pressed the lift button.

  Jack’s main office was on the top floor of the block and as expensively furnished as his penthouse.

  ‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ Jack’s secretary, Alice, greeted him when he walked into reception. ‘Your messages are on your desk with the letters you need to sign. I’ve called up your e-mails. They’re on screen. Would you like coffee?’

  ‘Please, Alice. Then get me the chauffeur-driven limousine firm we use and the hotel in Helford Creek I’ve booked.’

  ‘If you want to arrange champagne and truffles in the car and flowers, champagne and a fruit basket in your hotel suite, I’ve done it.’

  Jack smiled. ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘Hire another girl to make your calls. I’m only sorry I can’t control the chefs.’

  ‘You heard Adrian?’

  ‘I tried not to, but he was too loud. All the chefs are stressed, which isn’t surprising on Valentine’s Day. A fight broke out in the kitchen of the Edinburgh restaurant. I confirmed everything’s back to what passes for normal there half an hour ago. The good news is there’s not a table to be had in a Barnes’ restaurant tonight in Britain.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear: fully booked.’ Jack opened his office door.

  ‘The butchers have an appointment to see you in an hour about the meat order.’

  ‘Show them straight in and send a messenger over to Bruno’s apartment with a note telling him to get in here, please. Or, if he can’t, to telephone me.’

  ‘Anything else, Jack?’

  ‘Make sure no one’s double-booked my table downstairs. Zee and I will lunch at one.’

  ‘Your coffee.’ Alice poured him a cup from the filter machine, black and strong with three brown sugars, the way he liked it.

  Jack took the mug, went into his office, closed the door and walked to the window. He looked out and admired the view, as he did every working day.

  There wasn’t another city like London in the world. And as long as Zee remained by his side, there wasn’t a single thing he’d change in his life.

  The telephone rang. Jack picked it up.

  The voice was low, almost a whisper. It took a moment for Jack to recognise it as Bruno’s.

  ‘I’m dying, Jack. Help me.’

  Chapter Four

  Zee ate her breakfast before running a bath. She soaked in lemon-scented bath oil while reading a magazine, enjoying every lazy moment.

  When she’d met Jack she’d been a waitress in one of his restaurants. Before leaving drama school she’d dreamed of becoming a model or an actress. But the training hadn’t equipped her for the competition at auditions, or the loss of confidence she experienced after every rejection.

  She’d fallen in love with Jack at first sight. She knew he was attracted to her, but when she’d met his family, they’d been suspicious of her. There was a fifteen-year age gap between her and Jack; she was poor and he was rich. Leila believed Zee was after Jack’s money and told her so. Michael was convinced Jack had married her because he couldn’t bear living alone after the unexpected death of his first wife, four months before Zee and Jack had started dating.

  Zee couldn’t ignore Michael and Leila’s comments. She hoped the baby she was carrying would convince Jack’s family it was the man she loved, not the lifestyle and presents he gave her.

  She left the bath, dried herself and dressed in one of the maternity suits she’d bought in Harrods. She straightened her hair, applied make-up, sprayed Jack’s favourite perfume on to her neck and wrists and left her bedroom.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Zee, you look lovely,’ Sara complimented.

  ‘Thank you, Sara.’ Zee noticed an arrangement of red roses.

  ‘S
ix dozen, Mrs Zee. They arrived ten minutes ago. From Mr Jack.’ Sara handed her a package and envelope. ‘These came with them.’

  Zee opened the letter first. She smiled. ‘It’s a booking for three nights starting tonight, in our favourite hotel in Cornwall.’

  ‘And the parcel,’ Sara reminded.

  Zee opened it. ‘Silk underwear. I’d better pack.’

  ‘Lay everything you want to take on the sofa in your bedroom. I’ll pack it in your weekend luggage.’

  ‘You’re an angel, Sara.’ Zee pulled a rosebud from the arrangement and handed it to the maid.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Zee. I’ll show it to my boyfriend and hope it will make him jealous enough to ask me to marry him.’

  Zee went into the bedroom and laid out a selection of her own and Jack’s casual clothes. On the way out of the apartment, she pulled eight more roses from the display and wrapped each in a tissue.

  ‘You have other loves besides Mr Jack, Mrs Zee?’ Sara sprayed polish on the floor.

  ‘Hoping to make people happy.’ Zee removed one more rosebud. Jack’s secretary, Alice, had been the only person in Jack’s life who’d approved of their marriage. Zee laid the roses inside her handbag, checked her reflection in the mirror, and went to the door. ‘Thank you, Sara. Jack will send someone to pick up the cases. I’ll see you on Monday.’

  ‘Enjoy your break, Mrs Zee. You’re leaving early for lunch.’

  ‘I’ll do some baby shopping on the way.’ Zee was too proud to admit she hoped Jack’s brother or sister would invite her in for coffee before she left the apartment block. She needed to convince them that she loved Jack and was looking forward to becoming the mother of his child. The first of many she and Jack had planned.

  *

  Zee took the lift to the next floor and knocked at Michael and Anni’s apartment. When there was no reply, she walked down to the artists’ studio. It was locked. She left two roses and the Valentine cards she’d written for Michael and Anni outside the door.

  She heard music coming from Leila and Mamie’s apartment, but no one answered her knock. Suspecting Leila was avoiding her, she left rosebuds and cards there as well.

  She didn’t knock on Bruno and Adrian’s door because she assumed they’d be in the restaurant. She left flowers and cards for them too and took the lift to reception. Ted the porter looked up from the desk when she entered the foyer.

  ‘I’ve been watching you on CCTV. All I can say, after you’ve made everyone else’s Valentine’s Day special, is: Happy Valentine’s Day, Zee.’

  Zee gave him his card and rose. ‘I’ve a card and rose for Damian as well.’ She took them from her bag and left them on the desk.

  ‘I’ll give them to him when we change shift. It’s more than my life’s worth to disturb him when he’s writing or sleeping. Enjoy your day.’

  ‘I will.’ Zee smiled at the thought of going to Cornwall. They chatted for another few minutes, then Zee looked at her watch. ‘I’d better get on, Ted,’ she said, smiling a farewell.

  ‘Button your coat,’ he warned. ‘The sun may be shining but it’s freezing out there.’

  She took Ted’s advice, wrapped her scarf around her neck and walked out of the door.

  Zee checked her watch. She wanted to buy an extra present for Jack. Something he’d use every day. A wallet? A key ring? One he could slip a photograph of their baby into, after he or she was born.

  The heart-shaped gold cufflinks she’d wrapped were nothing compared to the roses and romantic weekend Jack had planned. She knew from experience that when Jack organised a surprise for her, it was perfect to the last detail.

  She turned right, towards the shops. A van was parked outside the florist’s. A young man was filling buckets with blooms. She stopped to admire a display of red and gold roses.

  The side door of the van slid back. She heard her name. She turned and stared in surprise.

  ‘Hello. What are you doing in there dressed like that?’

  There was an answering smile. ‘Climb inside and you’ll find out.’

  Zee stepped in. The door slammed behind her. Suddenly afraid, Zee shivered.

  Chapter Five

  Jack’s telephone rang. He picked it up.

  ‘It’s the doctor you asked to call on Bruno, Jack,’ Alice announced.

  ‘Put him through.’

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘Peter, how are you?’

  ‘Fine. And so’s your chef.’

  ‘Bruno’s not dying?’

  ‘A couple of days’ rest and he’ll be back to normal. I’ve given him a leaflet on alcohol abuse and left a couple of aspirins for his headache.’

  ‘Thanks, Peter. I owe you one.’

  ‘Next round of golf at the club is on you. Wednesday at three?’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Do you want to speak to Bruno?’

  ‘Not until Monday. I intend to enjoy my weekend.’ Jack replaced the receiver and saw Alice watching him. ‘Save me from over-dramatic chefs.’

  ‘Is there any other kind?’ Alice returned to her own desk.

  *

  Lamplight flooded the back of the van.

  ‘Stand back, Zee. I don’t want anyone to see what I’m about to show you.’

  ‘You’re being very mysterious.’ Zee forced a smile. It was ridiculous to be afraid of someone she knew so well.

  The light was strong. Zee blinked, opened her eyes, and saw it.

  Black, larger than a mobile phone, it touched her shoulder and she instantly felt weak. Too sick to move or think. She slumped to the metal floor. Her muscles hardened to stone. All she could think about was her baby.

  Zee opened her mouth to scream but her lips refused to part. The pain was so intense that the cry she’d intended was a weak groan. Hands closed around her neck. She tumbled headfirst into darkness.

  Zee struggled to open her eyes. Or, rather, she thought she had, but she couldn’t be certain. Everything was black. She was aware of agonising pain in every muscle. Pain that prevented her from moving. Was she having a nightmare?

  She tried to lift her arms and failed. Then she realised that they, like her legs, neck and head, were fastened to a cold, hard surface. There was a foul taste in her mouth. Something had been pushed between her teeth. Something dry, hard and nasty. No matter how she tried to push it aside with her tongue, she couldn’t.

  She’d never been afraid of the dark. Now she was. There was a buzzing. A sense of movement.

  Zee remembered stopping on the pavement. Entering the van. The door closing. The noise – was it the engine of the van? Was she being taken somewhere? Had she been kidnapped?

  The buzzing stopped. There was stillness and silence.

  What could have been one or five minutes later, metal slammed against metal. The sound sent shivers crawling down her spine. Footsteps drew nearer … The side door opened. She’d heard the driver’s door of the van closing.

  Someone stepped inside the back of the van. The door closed. A light was switched on. It burned her eyes. She closed them tightly.

  ‘A little pain. The last, I promise. Then it will stop hurting.’ The voice was soft, kind. But Zee was terrified. Not for herself. Her baby … Jack … She fought against the straps that pinned her down. She couldn’t move more than a fraction of an inch.

  Bracing herself for the pain of the light, she forced her eyes open. A black figure leaned over her. A cap covered the hair, a mask the face. All she could see was the eyes. Dark and glittering.

  Light reflected from hands that were covered in white latex. She saw a blade. She made one last effort …

  Too late. The edge of the chopper sliced through her jacket and continued plunging downwards. She felt warm, wet blood gush from her chest, soaking her skin.

  Then she heard it. Metal scraping bone. The pain got worse.

  She gasped for breath. She couldn’t breathe. She heard a loud crack … followed by another … and another …

  Chapter Six


  It came to Zee in a burst of sickening knowledge. The cracks were her ribs breaking one by one. Then one crack, louder than all the others, brought a pain too great to bear.

  The killer stood over Zee. The straps only allowed small movements, but that didn’t stop Zee fighting. Slowly, so slowly that the killer couldn’t be certain it was really happening, Zee’s eyes dulled. Gradually, they lost the brightness of life. Zee’s eyelids flickered but they did not close. A bubble of pink froth escaped from her mouth. Blood welled from her opened chest, staining her cream jacket crimson.

  Zee sighed. A last sigh. Her eyes opened wide.

  They were blind and dead.

  The killer looked from Zee’s face to the opening in her chest. The handle of the chopping knife stuck out. The killer thrust it down and turned it, pushing Zee’s broken ribs apart. A loud ‘snap’ startled the killer, who listened for an outside noise.

  There was none.

  Working quickly, the killer pushed aside the ragged remains of clothing and freed Zee’s ribs from her breast plate until a gap was exposed in her chest. The chopper was exchanged for the filleting knife. A few delicate probing movements exposed Zee’s heart.

  Holding the carving knife in one hand, the filleting knife in the other, the killer cut through the blood vessels and tissue that held the heart in place. The filleting knife had a fine blade. The carving knife was sharp. It took only two minutes to prise Zee’s heart free.

  Changing the latex gloves for a clean pair, the killer picked up the two-pronged fork and speared Zee’s heart. A few seconds later it was in the plastic box. It proved difficult to scratch the initials on to the surface. The knives were sharp but the heart was slippery. Eventually the letters could be read – just.

  The flag was already prepared. The printed note was secured to the top. The killer jabbed it into the heart and changed gloves before closing the lid on the plastic box.

  A swift examination confirmed there was no blood on the outside of the container.

  Changing gloves yet again, the clean plastic box was placed in the centre of the sheet of wrapping paper. The killer tucked in the ends of paper and secured it around the plastic box with the red ribbon, tying the ends into a neat bow.