Death by the Book - Lenny Bartulin [42]
For a moment Jack had to remember Ian was Durst. ‘Does he have any claim on your money?’
‘Not all of it. A lot is tied up in trusts through my father’s business. But it’s guaranteed he’ll contest the outcome of the divorce. And he’ll use Louisa against me, just like he’s already using her. I know he’ll drag all our shit out into the open, make me look like a terrible mother.’ Annabelle stared into her drink. ‘I don’t want to lose my daughter.’
Silence, except for the rain against the window and the faint hiss of the gas heater. Jack scanned the floor for his clothes, saw his crisp black shirt, now crumpled on the floor near the desk.
‘You said you were seeing Celia this afternoon?’ said Annabelle.
‘Yes.’
‘Can you … find out … what she’s up to with Ian?’
‘I can try.’
For a moment Annabelle stared at the chess pieces before her. She let out a breath through her nostrils, almost a huff. A sliver of light glinted in her eyes, then she blinked and the sparks died. Something else was on her mind, too.
‘Don’t believe anything Edward Kass tells you, either,’ she said.
There was probably more family love in a wasp’s nest than around these people. ‘When did the affair happen?’
A pause. ‘First time was in the sixties.’ Annabelle almost sounded relieved to say it. ‘Mum actually left Dad and went to live with Edward. I’m not sure of the details. I hadn’t been born. She came back, of course, but then it happened again later.’
‘About the time your father took Kass to court.’
‘Yes.’
‘That was a while ago now. Why all the sudden interest?’ Jack glanced at the typewriter in the corner.
‘I don’t know!’ said Annabelle, looking up at him with cool brown eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s going on. My father hardly ever speaks to me anymore.’
Hammond Kasprowicz had probably never been up for Father of the Year. ‘When was the last time you saw Kass?’
Annabelle sighed. ‘Probably on my eighteenth birthday. He gave me a poem. I still remember. It was called In Demons Land.’
‘Nice,’ said Jack. ‘Just what every eighteen-year-old girl would want.’
‘My father bought me a car.’
Jack was surprised it was not a pony. He went and picked up his shirt and returned to stand in front of the heater as he put it on.
‘Thank you, Jack.’ She stood up. ‘There’s nobody else I can talk to about all this.’ She put a hand on his chest. Then she held a finger to his lips. Jack bit it, lightly. She pressed herself against him, unbuttoning the one button he had managed to do up.
‘When can I see you again?’ she asked.
‘My wife’s out tonight. Tango lessons. Any time after seven is clear.’
She smiled. Slipped a hand down Jack’s back, slowly. Parted her lips and tilted her head and kissed him.
On the bus to Kings Cross, Jack searched through the Edward Kass books in his bag for the poem Kass had given Annabelle. He found it in Entropy House. The singed copy.
Page 19.
IN DEMONS LAND
His forehead smeared with defeat,
His journey without reason, willed —
The young man turned at the bridge
And shouted his commands.
Her arms broke the day,
The highest steps too splendid
For the eyes. Ten centuries
Blown about — their weight
The sin of pride. Only God
Satisfied, among the dead,
The price of empty glory faded,
And then crawled on
In exile with a myrtle crown. The light
Observed brilliant in the same,
And three mirrors the whiteness of the moon —
Another sphere proceeds the truth
You seek. Mandatory, to slake
The great awe.
Suffer the world rejoiced.
I am obedient too late.
Jack closed the book and slipped it back into his bag. The ancient Egyptians said that when you died, the god Ra weighed your heart against a feather, on a set of golden scales. If it were lighter, then heaven awaited. During their meeting, Edward Kass was going to have to hope for a feather the size of New Zealand.
The boss was behind the counter at Celia’s Crystal Palace, head down over the till, counting out the fifties. Her lips moved silently. There were more golden notes than Jack saw in a month. Maybe he should make the switch to designer costume jewellery.