Page 14

Fourteen

Tuesday 10am

The apartment building had the usual canopy over the entrance, and inside the outer lobby a bank of boxes with buzzers. Charlie buzzed and Sabrina Sully answered.

“My name is Charlie Rees, Mrs Sully. From Llanfair in Wales. We spoke on the telephone last year. May I come and talk to you?”

The answer came in the form of a buzzing noise, to let him through the door into the inner lobby. Unlike her son, Mrs Sully did not have the services of a doorman, though the lobby was spacious and light-filled. There were lifts on each side. Charlie studied the signs and took the right-hand lift to the fourth floor. He knocked at the door to 4A.

Sabrina Sully was tall, a couple of inches taller than him, with an athlete’s physique, smooth skin and hair and an all-year-round tan. She wore white trousers and matching sweater, lifted by gold necklaces, earrings and bangles. Charlie guessed she had to be in her forties, but she could have convinced him she was thirty. Flawless grooming concealed any sign of grief.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. From what he remembered, Mrs Sully’s main interest was Kaylan and his doings. Regardless of appearances, she must be devastated. She held the apartment door open and stood back to let him in. Charlie had expected her to begin talking the second he was over the threshold but she said nothing until they reached a large L-shaped living room with modern furniture and a view of trees and sky. Glass doors opened on to a balcony, where Mrs Sully had evidently been sitting with a mug of coffee. She took her seat again, and waved him into the one opposite. She didn’t offer him a drink.

“You’re not what I expected. I thought British detectives wore suits. They always do on the TV.”

Charlie smiled. This was more like the Mrs Sully he had spoken to last year. “Not everything is like it is on television,” he said. Let her think he was there officially. In the event, it didn’t matter.

“I suppose you’re here about Kaylan. I really thought his troubles were over, and then to be caught in this. I can hardly believe it, to be honest. It hasn’t sunk in. You know his father was killed?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I lost everything. My beautiful house, our money, our friends. If it wasn’t for Andrew, I’d be going to the YMCA to exercise. My brother. He’s big in the Trump campaign, you’ve probably heard of him. Kaylan brought all this trouble on us, but I never stopped loving him, because that’s what mothers do, isn’t it? They love their children and want the best for them. Obviously, I wanted Kaylan home, though there’s hardly room for him in this dump. But he bought his own apartment. He has his grandmother’s money; did I tell you that?”

She paused for a sip of coffee, but carried on before Charlie could speak.

“He ruined his father’s business. Ruined it. Though if you asked me, which no one did, Roger should have stopped working for the Federal Government. It’s too big. Americans shouldn’t be paying taxes to the government. Andrew agrees with me.” Another sip, but this time Charlie was ready.

“Did you see much of Kaylan when he came home?”

“Well, he came here at first. He had nowhere else to go. He was shocked of course, but it was his fault we lost the house. I thought he might offer to pay for somewhere a bit better with all his money, but he didn’t. Andrew says he’s self-centred and I suppose he is, but he’s still my son. At least he was back here and not in that awful place.”

Kaylan was in prison for very good reasons. Like shooting me, Charlie thought, but didn’t say. And now whoever shot Kaylan shot Tom. He couldn’t think about that now. Even though he never stopped thinking about it.

“You say Kaylan lost you the house?”

“Roger, God rest his soul, was cut out of all sorts of contracts because the government thought Kaylan would hack into their computers. Which is ridiculous. My husband ran the biggest cyber-security company on the East Coast. He had a reputation. Kaylan loved his father. He would never have done anything to hurt him.”

“I thought you lived in Chicago… that the company was based there?”

Sabrina gave a tinny laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

You did. When we spoke on the phone. And Chicago was Kaylan’s home address when he came to the UK.

“Where was the house?”

Sabrina didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “I had to identify Kaylan’s body. No mother should have to do that. I had to identify my husband too.” For the first time, Sabrina ran out of words.

“I was sorry to hear that your husband had died,” Charlie offered.

“Immigrants,” Sabrina said. “Immigrants killed my husband. I think you should go now. I’ve got an appointment.”

“Of course,” Charlie said and stood up.

As he led the way back to the front door, he took in the photographs on the wall. One was of an unmistakable Donald Trump alongside a man in golfing clothes, and next to him, Sabrina Sully. Sabrina saw him looking.

“My brother Andrew,” she said, pointing at the man next to Trump.”