Page 112 of The Bridesmaid
He shakes his head. ‘Silky was a good kid. Used to be a good kid,’ he corrects himself. ‘The drugs changed her. She wasn’theranymore. Hadn’t been for years.’ His eyes light on me. ‘Have you any idea how it feels, to grieve someone who’s still walking around? Like a freakin’ zombie got their body?’ He talks on without waiting for an answer. ‘We tried everything to help Silky,’ he says. ‘For years. It was that school messed her up pretty good. She would have died sometime soon anyway. I made my peace with her death years ago.’ Leopold takes a slow, juddering breath.
‘I’m just a scientist, Mr Kensington,’ I tell him. ‘You want a therapist, go pay one.’
He laughs, winces, then stands a little straighter, eyeing the large house. ‘I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in all this. Let’s get going.’
I take in the grand Fortune House.
‘The Kensingtons’ prison never went away,’ I tell Leopold as he takes one step at a time, holding the left side of his body. ‘It’s still here. Forcing women to fit the right image. The prison bars just turned into high heels and hair-straighteners.’
‘This way.’ Leopold jerks the gun. ‘The Tower Suite.’
We enter the Tower Suite to see the glass-walled room has been decorated for a honeymoon. Orchids are scattered on the bed. Champagne sits chilling in an ice bucket. The infinity pool has aheart of flower petals floating daintily on the water, by some clever trick of logistics.
For a second, I can see the whole set-up gives Leopold pause. Then he regroups, and collects himself.
‘Stand there,’ he waves the gun, gesturing I walk out toward the edge of the infinity pool.
‘Whatever you’re planning—’
‘Just step out onto the edge,’ he says. ‘There’s something I want you to see.’
I weigh up my options, but it’s incredibly hard to keep my thoughts straight with the gun pointed at my face. Swallowing, I inch out onto the lip of the infinity pool, where the water flows over the edge, giving the illusion of pouring off into the sea below.
Warm chlorine water washes over my feet. I look down onto the sheer edge of the cliff, and my stomach seems to rush up to meet my head. Closing my eyes momentarily, I force myself to look down. I’d been desperately hoping I could see some foliage to fall into, or a jutting piece of rock. There’s nothing. Just sheer unforgiving cliff.
I always wondered how it would feel to stare death in the face. Now I know. It feels unreal. Like it’s happening to somebody else.
Leopold walks out onto the edge, and the earlier breathlessness is overtaking his entire body. Each step seems to be costing him a huge effort. Is he unwell?
Pool water laps over his mirror-bright hand-made leather shoes. The height doesn’t seem to bother him, though he displays the smallest twitch of annoyance as water soaks dark patches into the leather of his footwear.
‘You know,’ he says, ‘when I built this place, one of theguys supplying the coke told me this would be the spot for the perfect murder.’
He looks down over the cliff. Fearless. My knees are shaking.
‘The guy thought from here, a body would be taken miles out to sea by the down current. Good chance no one would ever find it.’
He uses the gun to scratch his sweating forehead. ‘Simone was smart, I liked her.’ His face flickers in deep sadness. ‘When Silky rang me, all hysterical, saying she’d pushed her … it was hard. Silky said they’d gotten into a fight,’ he adds, lifting his eyes to mine. ‘Simone tried to confiscate Silky’s drugs. It was …’ He hesitates, grits his teeth like he’s in pain, then talks on. ‘Triggering,’ he continues. ‘Isn’t that what you kids say? Something about having something precious taken away. Silky just reacted.’ A whisper of a smile plays out on his face. ‘That school had a lot to answer for.’
‘If you’re going to kill me,’ I say, ‘get it over with. I won’t help you fabricate evidence. And I don’t see how my death will do you or your family any good.’
He glances up at me with a small smile, his dark brown eyes surprisingly warm.
‘I didn’t bring you here to kill you, Holly Stone,’ he says. Leopold opens his jacket to reveal a growing patch of blood on his white shirt.
‘My whole life people think I’m a dumb Polak,’ he says. ‘Son of a dumb Polak. Fish boy.’ He laughs. ‘I’m not dumb, Holly. I know you can’t make this go away. I didn’t bring you here to kill you,’ he says again. ‘I just didn’t want my daughters to see me die.’
Chapter Ninety-two
HOLLY
I stare mutely at the bloody patch under Leopold’s suit jacket.
He looks away from me, staring out over the island. The wound is in his lower abdomen. It’s bad. I can’t take my eyes off it.
‘I thought … I didn’t realize the bullet hit you,’ I say, staring at the blood-soaked shirt.
He nods. ‘You know, I barely felt a thing when it happened? Guess I was distracted.’ His face is sad. ‘Hurts like hell now.’ His mouth twitches. He pulls up his shirt, and stares with mild disbelief at his own abdomen. It’s distended with internal bruising, pumping a slow stream of blood from a small bullet wound. ‘I am going to die, right?’ There’s the tiniest shred of hope in his voice. ‘Feels that way.’
