Page 63 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
Jesus, but my guts had twisted up withthosequestions. And all the time I never deviated from the story because that was exactly what Kelvin would have wanted and expected, even if it made me sick to do so.
An open verdict was recorded. Kelvin had been killed by a person or persons unknown.
I poured myself another whisky but rather than gulp it down I nursed the glass between my hands.
In the aftermath, I hadn’t reopened Euphoria or any of the other establishments. I’d used Parker, our tame solicitor, to make payments to everybody Kelvin and I employed, from cleaners to the boys in the hotels. His brows had shot up in shock when he’d seen the sums.Did I really want to…?Yes, I did. The sums were huge, there wasn’t a single person onthe list who’d even have to think about getting another job for at least a couple of years. I smiled, the first since the night that had changed my life forever. Kelvin’s response would have been the same as Parker’s but with a lot more expletives thrown into the mix.
It hadn’t only been to employees that payments had been made.
Our contacts in the police and council received ‘full and final settlements’. Strictly cash, and handled by me. Photos and recordings were also posted out, in plain packaging, a different kind of full and final settlement; I could only imagine the reaction they’d have provoked when opened at the breakfast table with cute kids and an ever loving wife looking on. They were copies, of course, because Kelvin had taught me well. Insurance had been all important in our business, and it was a lesson I wasn’t ready to ignore. Or not quite yet. The originals were safely housed. Just in case.
I’d kept Parker busy. All assets were liquidated and the sums involved had been eye watering.
Kelvin’s house had been left to me. I’d gone through everything alone, not wanting anybody in there and touching his things. I’d spent ages crying over the photos and mementos of us both. Many were copies of those I already had, but there had been others I’d not seen. Happy photos, the two of us laughing into each other’s eyes, or into the camera lens. Photos I’d not remembered being taken, depicting happiness I never remembered feeling. And I’d cried some more, for who we were in those photos, and who we could have been.
I’d also made charitable donations, via Parker to conceal my identity. Huge sums, which I hoped would make some difference, to organisations fighting against people traffickers,and to the charities who cared for the broken men and women who’d, somehow, survived their ordeal.
Aksoy had contacted me after the inquest. It had been a sly approach, suggesting a meeting, to pick up where things had been left with Kelvin. Somehow, I’d held it together. I’d be in touch, I said, leaving it at that. I wouldn’t, but McNally would.
I told the Detective Constable I had enough information on Aksoy’s dirty operations for a full-on investigation to be launched, guaranteed to cover McNally in glory and take him up the next rung in the ladder. The ambitious copper was chomping at the bit to get moving. He’d get everything he needed in just a few days’ time.
Piece by piece, I was settling all accounts.
“Why, Kel, why? It never had to be this way. If you’d only—” A sudden hard gust of wind blew, wrapping its icy arms around me. I shivered, my backbone tingling with more than the late winter chill.
Getting to my feet I looked out over the stunning night time view for the last time before going inside. A couple of chairs and the coffee table were pretty much all that remained in the flat, everything else gone. Just as Kit and I would soon be.
In less than six hours a cab would pick us up, to take us to Heathrow where we’d board a plane to Bangkok.
THREE YEARS LATER
KIT
“Everybody, back to the centre and make sure you give your suits a thorough rinse off then hang them out to dry. The guys will take care of your tanks and everything else. See you later on in The Compass.”
I waved off the group of novice divers as they made their way to the dive centre situated at the far end of the beach before I unfastened and discarded my own tank and buoyancy jacket. Flopping down on to the sand, I closed my eyes, letting the hot sun sink all the way down to my bones.
The group I’d been with all day were late teens, perhaps very early twenties, most on gap years. I loved their excitement and enthusiasm for life, but sometimes it could be exhausting, so these few minutes alone on the world’s most perfect beach gave me a few precious moments to myself.
Not that I wanted too many moments alone, precious or otherwise, not when Alex was waiting for me at home.
I sat up and looked for the house we’d had built, on a low hill overlooking the beach and the aquamarine water, not too far away, but enough to give us the peace and privacy we valued. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I spotted movement on the huge wrap around balcony; I smiled, knowing what Alex was up to.
Getting to my feet, I collected all my gear and made my way to the dive centre where I stored my stuff, gratified to see the divers had done as I’d asked, before I made my way home to drink beer with Alex as I told him about the incredible world I’d been part of beneath the waves.
“Thank god they’ve finished,” Alex muttered, at the same time he gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to the band on the small stage before pointing to the bar where there would be drinks waiting for them.
“Come on, they’re not that bad,” I said, laughing. Although they were.
The Bangkok Braves played cover versions of well known pop and rock songs every Saturday night, their lack of both talent and the English language no barrier to their enthusiasm. They were insanely popular and always pulled in a big crowd, mostly young and raucous like the group of divers I’d taken out earlier. We could have hired The Braves every night, although we’d have both gone insane. Other than Saturday, Alex and I were happy the bar reverted to the chilled out vibe we’d sought to create, where bluesy jazz played quietly in the background, the groups of young, and mostly cash strapped, travellers replaced by older and affluent holiday makers who rented out the plush villas on this quiet side of the island.
The Compass was heaving, and Alex and I helped behind the bar, working alongside our employees, mixing cocktails and opening up bottles of ice cold beer. It was all hands on deck, with everybody rushed off their feet. Hearing a burst of laughter, I glanced across at Alex, who was grinning at something one of the young divers from earlier was saying. I smothered a smile as I kept a surreptitious eye on the exchange.
The guy was openly flirting. It was clumsy and no doubt his inhibitions had been loosened by all the beer he’d drunk, but I couldn’t blame him for trying. Maybe I was biased, but Alex looked like he’d walked out of a men’s style magazine:the Tropical Edition. His skin was lightly tanned and the sun had brought out the red tones in his hair. Whereas I’d let my hair grow out so it was on the right side of shaggy, Alex had retained the sharp, short cut he’d had in London. He’d also put on some more muscle. He’s always be on the lean side, but now the muscles in his arms and chest were more defined, and as for his abs, hugged by the tight T-shirt he wore, let’s just say they were very… lickable. From the look on his face, the young diver thought so too.
Dream on.
What came next was what always came next: Alex backing off, letting whoever the guy was down lightly with a smile and some well chosen words so as not to embarrass him.
