Deadly Pretty Strangers: US Edition Page 30

  I managed to stand unaided. Christmas touched Sophie’s face, tracing her jawline and then her cheekbones.

  Sophie smiled shyly. “Similar but not identical. Fraternal twins.”

  I studied the small differences. The tip of Christmas’s nose was a fraction higher, she had more freckles and a jaw that was a fraction deeper. Weight and height looked the same.

  Now that we’d found Aleksy’s killer, I stood beside two lethal women. I guessed that Christmas had killed a lot more people than her sister, not least because she’d accounted for four of Miranda’s gang. But I felt very uncomfortable in Sophie’s presence because I knew that she could kill with a bite. I was still suffering the effects of the spider venom and I hadn’t expected to find her here. I was mentally unprepared. And though Christmas had shot Darren, her friend, I knew she’d find it much harder to take decisive action against her sister. This was not a safe situation.

  Sophie was oblivious to these thoughts. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long for us to meet as adults.” She held Christmas’s hand.

  Christmas said, “And the circumstances are less than ideal.”

  I said, “We thought you were in Canada.”

  “I was for a while. But now I’m back. Sort of.” Then she said excitedly, “Christmas, the whole village is talking about you! You took down Miranda’s entire gang almost single-handed.”

  “I didn’t. Just some of them. And I had a lot of help.”

  “Where’s Louise?” I asked.

  “Oh, of course. I’ll take you to her.”

  Christmas supported me by the arm as we retraced our steps back to her car. Sophie glanced at the boys by the garage but ignored their stares.

  Sophie’s sisterly affection would keep Christmas safe, but the thought of Aleksy’s killer behind my shoulder made me very uncomfortable. So I got into the backseat, letting her ride in front. If Sophie was going to bite me, at least I’d see her coming, even if I couldn’t do much about it.

  Putting on her seatbelt, Sophie turned to me and asked, “What happened to you?”

  “A spider bit me.”

  “Was it a big one?”

  “Yes. It was a big one wearing black glasses. He’s called Darren. He injected me with a load of funnel-web spider venom.”

  “Why would Darren do that?”

  Christmas said, “He hit me with the same. He was trying to fulfil Miranda’s insane plan for acquiring my dad’s estate and whatever else they had in mind.” She started the engine.

  “I’m sorry. Darren’s been good to us.”

  We pulled away from the curb and headed back the way we’d come.

  “How?” I asked.

  “Oh, you know, helpful. Kind. I thought he could be trusted. He’s been a matchmaker for the village, introducing us to people who understand us. Almost always HomEvo people. Turn left here.”

  Christmas drove slowly along the main village road. About a mile past the main street we turned left again, heading uphill. We took a right turn onto a landscaped estate at the top of the hill. The twilight sky was still a deep blue and the moon almost full, showing the gardens in monochrome with neatly trimmed lawns. The trees and shrubs were in full leaf.

  “This is mostly new,” Sophie explained. “Part of the plan for the much larger town.”

  We parked in a small parking lot. Christmas stopped the engine, we got out, shut the car doors and silence momentarily smothered us like a blanket. Then the night time insects resumed their chirruping and an owl, unseen in the trees, hooted mournfully.

  “This way.”

  Sophie led us across a circular green, under a flowering archway and along a path with small refuges bounded by neatly trimmed hedges, leading off alternately left and right. Each refuge had a circular pathway inside, stone benches and a space in the center which was either lawn, flower beds and shrubs, or a stone monument.

  Christmas lit the way with a small flashlight.

  At the end of the path we reached the last refuge. In its center stood a white limestone vault, a little over two yards long, a yard wide and knee high. On top of the vault at the near end, a small flame burned within a glass bulb, mounted on a flat plinth resembling the open pages of a stone book.

  Sophie knelt by the vault and ran her hand over the words carved on the pages. “This is Louise,” she said quietly.

  FORTY-FOUR

  By flashlight, I read the carved inscription on the two stone pages, Our beloved daughter, friend, carer and confidant, lighting the way for us to follow. Our love for you burns brighter than any flame, our hearts beat with your name, our minds keep your thoughts, while yet we live.

  “No name on the vault?” I asked.

  Sophie put her hand to her chest, “My heart beats with her name. We lived like sisters. I’m keeping her alive by living her identity. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I’m Louise Picton now.”

  “Why?” I asked. “So you can hide in plain sight from a murder charge? And how did Louise die?”

  Sophie looked at us, her mouth open in surprise. “You don’t know what happened then? I thought you must’ve found out when you came for me.”

  Christmas helped her up gently, saying, “We’ve got part of the story. Please fill in the rest for us.”

  I asked, “Did you kill Aleksy Naumowicz?”

  “No! I only met him once when he was alive. The second time I saw him, he was dead.”

  “But I’ve got a picture of a blonde girl, who looks like you, having dinner with Aleksy just hours before he died.”

  “That was Louise. She had blonde hair then.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m blonde, she was dyed blonde. Sometimes. When she’d grown out the blonde, I’d sometimes dye my hair red. We made ourselves alike. We wanted to be each other. We were one person a lot of the time. We wore each other’s clothes. Same height, weight, likes, dislikes. I was closer to her than I am to my own sisters.”

  “What happened to Aleksy?”

  “Louise killed him. In self-defense.”

  “How? Why?”

  “She misjudged him. She met him in Birmingham while he was delivering stuff from Poland, and she thought he was perfect. I’ve no idea why. He was one of the very few things we didn’t agree on. She didn’t want to meet him near Limewood because of Miranda.”

  “He was in her gang?”

  “No, nothing like that. Outsiders who get close to the women here have a habit of turning up dead. That was Miranda. She hated outsiders. Said they’re a risk to our whole community. So Louise arranged to meet Aleksy in London. It’s a bit ironic, given how things turned out. I traveled with her for company. I left them alone for their date. I booked a hotel.”

  “The Strand.”

  “That’s right. I was nearby. I was worried from the start. She liked him. I didn’t. I couldn’t understand it, but she said there was something about him. She couldn’t put it into words. And she wanted to get pregnant, even if the relationship didn’t last. She told me she’d raise her children here in Limewood and that I and all the other aunts and uncles would more than make up for any absent father.”

  “That sounds a bit harsh on the children. And the father.”

  “Relationships with outsiders can be hard to maintain.” She added quickly, “But I wish you two the best.”

  Christmas said, “Thanks. I think we’re going to need it. He’s suffered four assassination attempts and I’m pregnant.”

  “That’s why Darren’s been so important as a matchmaker. And the others before him, like my dad.”

  “So what happened on the night Aleksy died?” I asked.

  “Louise called him from a public phone and they met up. They had a drink, went for dinner and then went back to his friend’s apartment. His friend was out of town. When they got to the bedroom she realized she’d made a mistake. I knew something bad would happen. He handled her harshly and that wasn’t what Louise wanted. He was too rough. She tried to stop him. She
pushed him away and then he hit her in the face.

  “She told me she was so surprised, she didn’t try to defend herself. Then suddenly he hit her again, really hard. He wasn’t small. You know he loaded and unloaded trucks. So although he was normal, he was capable of doing damage. That bruise you’ve got Christmas, Louise had one twice as bad. One side of her face was purple. I thought he might’ve broken her cheekbone. She bit him out of fear. She said that she should’ve just punched him back harder. But she wasn’t a fighter. He got on top of her and she used her ultimate weapon.”

  “What then?”

  “She said he didn’t notice for a minute but then the paralysis occurred. She pushed him off. Another minute and he was gone. She called me at my hotel.”

  “What with? Her phone was off all night.”

  “Louise wasn’t stupid. Everyone in this village is used to avoiding attention. It’s drilled into us as children. The outside world is dangerous and we have to move through it unnoticed. She called the hotel’s lobby from a public phone booth and asked one of the porters to bring me to the phone.”

  “Then what?”

  “I packed and left the hotel. I called Darren from a phone in the street. I told him everything. He gave me instructions on how to clean up. He sent a spider to a café nearby so that we could make it look like an accident.”

  “You were thorough.”

  “He made me write the clean-up instructions down. We never used the spider though. That was your fault.”

  “How was it my fault?”

  “You arrived while I was checking to see that the way was clear.”

  “You knocked me out?”

  “I hit you with the vacuum cleaner. I’m sorry. We were a little desperate. I put you on your side and made your coat into a pillow for your head.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that,” I said flatly, while I felt the lump under the thin scar on my forehead.

  “We ran straightway so that you wouldn’t see us. Louise just left the spider.”

  “How did you get there unseen? There’s CCTV everywhere. The police must’ve collected video from all around the neighborhood.”

  “Our old men disguises. Ordinarily we just use big floppy hats, but for something more serious we disguise ourselves as old men. Face mask, jacket, trousers.”

  “This sounds like it’s happened before.”

  “Not like this. I’m talking about minor mischief like getting into a concert backstage or sneaking out to meet people when we’re being watched by Miranda.”

  “Ok, we know about the clear-up. What happened to Louise?”

  “I thought she was alright. We took the train back to Penrith. We both fell asleep on the way. We’d been up all night. When we woke, Louise wasn’t herself. Her speech was slurred. Louise’s mother picked us up from the station and drove us to the new hospital, here in Limewood.

  “I held her in the backseat. Her head in my lap. She wouldn’t stay awake. Louise was unconscious when we took her in. She had a brain hemorrhage. Could’ve been a weak artery waiting to burst, according to the doctor. They kept her in, tried to relieve the pressure on her brain, but she never woke up from the surgery. The blow from that truck driver did it. He’s a murderer.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “He was dead. We’d already got as much justice as we were likely to get.”

  “So why did you go to Canada? Why’re you using Louise’s identity?”

  “It’s complicated. We didn’t want to connect Louise with the inquest for the truck driver.”

  “Why?”

  “Because uncovering the way he died would’ve meant public knowledge of our unusual abilities. You know? The killing bite among other things. Revealing the nature of our community here. Everyone’s terrified of that.”

  “What about Louise’s death though?”

  “We haven’t reported it. It’s meant a lot of soul-searching at the hospital because the medics there’ll be struck off if anyone finds out that they’ve not reported a death. And I think it’s up to Louise’s mum to do it most of all, because she took Louise’s body away. And then there’s me, using her name.

  “I haven’t made any official deception yet but that’s something I’ll have to tackle soon. We could tell all. I could come back from Canada officially. But this is a village with a lot of secrets. All of our parents have assumed identities from when they first got established here, way back in the eighties. They say it was easier then, before everyone had computers. A complicated identity isn’t unusual around here. Everyone who knows me still calls me Fi.

  “But I’m keeping Louise’s name alive. It’s a comfort for me and I think it’s a comfort for Lou’s mum, though she says our grief might be turning into mental illness. Maybe we just a need a year or two.” She shrugged, “Maybe I need forever.”

  “Why didn’t you just stay in Canada?”

  “I don’t want to leave everyone I know. I just laid a trail away from here. One day we’ll be ready for inquests. Miranda used to say that we only need to get through another two generations unnoticed and then there’ll be so many of us, we’ll have nothing to fear.”

  “How’d you get back here without your passport?”

  “I’ve still got it. I just sneaked back on a passenger liner. I had help. Smuggled on board in a crate. Then I hot-bunked with friends until we got near to Liverpool. I used a black wetsuit and went over the side quietly while everyone was looking at the docks in the distance. I’m a strong swimmer. I had a light and a phone. One of my uncles picked me up in a boat and I came ashore on the beach near here. It wasn’t hard. Nothing’s hard when you’ve got a whole village behind you.”

  “Everything you say makes sense, but it’s all just words, apart from this monument. How do I know she’s in here?”

  “You can have a look if you like.”

  “What?”

  “It’s ok. She’s in a glass coffin. I look at her all the time.”

  Sophie took out a large key with a wide tubular shank. Moving to the head of the vault, she slotted the key into broad, bronze discs in the side of the vault near the top, and rotated each one half a turn. Christmas helped her lift a section of the limestone lid off the vault, putting it down carefully and exposing the head of the coffin within.

  “I wouldn’t do this ordinarily, but Christmas is family and I know you want proof. Here, come and look.”

  Sophie took Christmas’s flashlight and held it close to the glass coffin, illuminating the face of the corpse inside. I peered into the space in the vault and recognized the face on a dark-blue velvet pillow as belonging to the girl whose driving license I’d seen. The family resemblance was strong. It was easy to see how Sophie and Louise could be mistaken for sisters.

  “The funeral people prepared her body. Louise’s mum wanted her hair to be the way it was naturally. I think they’ve done it a shade too vivid. And you can see how her face is just a little lower this side, from the palsy. They covered the bruising with makeup. It doesn’t notice in this light, but in the strong daylight I can see it. But she’s still beautiful isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is. Although this is macabre. I’ve not seen anyone in a glass coffin before.”

  “There are loads of dead people on public display. Some of them have been dead for hundreds of years. None of them as beautiful as Louise. Lenin, Jeremy Bentham, Mao Ze Dong, Ho Chi Minh, Saint Bernadette and dozens of mummified corpses.”

  “You’re right, but it’s unusual.”

  “We’re an unusual community. And we’re not ready to let her go. The coffin’s filled with argon. She could stay like this for hundreds of years.”

  “How often do you look at her?”

  “At the beginning, it was every day.” A tear dropped onto the glass. “Now I come here about once a week, I think. It’s not been long.” She wiped the tear from the glass and polished the surface with the cuff of her sweatshirt. “I still see her everywhere in the village. Whenever I see
one of my cousins walking dogs or sitting reading, or playing with children, I get a surge in my stomach thinking that it might be Louise and then I realize it can’t be. So sometimes I come here afterward.” Tears ran down Sophie’s face as she talked. She ignored them. “We all came here, her mum and dad and some of her brothers and sisters, on her birthday a few weeks ago. We opened the vault and told stories about her and I could feel her presence. She’s our sleeping beauty. She’s your cousin too,” she said to Christmas.

  “I know,” Christmas replied quietly, taking Sophie’s hand.

  After a long silence Sophie said, “I have to cover her up now.”

  Christmas helped her replace the stone lid and Sophie turned the discs, locking the stone in place.

  She turned to me. “We want to know if you can keep our secrets.”

  “I’ve been told to keep them. I’ve been paid to do it. And…” I looked at Christmas, “I want to. Do whatever you think’s best with Louise’s legacy. There is something else though. Miranda said that your cousins Becky and Ella killed two people; what do you know about Liam Cheeseman and Dylan Jefferies?”

  “She was lying. I know those girls well. They’d told their boyfriends about their special abilities. Miranda heard about it and suddenly both boys disappeared. The girls were devastated when the car was found with Liam’s charred remains. Dylan’s body hasn’t been found but we know that Miranda got rid of him somehow. That was why Louise met Aleksy in London.”

  I studied Sophie’s face while she spoke and I watched Christmas reacting to her sister. The ancient mode of communication told me I was hearing the truth. For now, it looked as though Miranda was the real rogue killer and she wouldn’t be troubling anyone again.

  We took Sophie back to her new home before leaving Limewood. It was almost midnight.

  * * *

  Further south, we stopped for the night in a hotel.

  In the bathroom Christmas checked me over, looking at my ankles intently to see if they were swollen.

  “What would that show?”