Lawless - [5]
Ruby and Michael had been in their forties when they met, too old to be called boyfriend and girlfriend. But they’d been passionate, committed lovers and she felt she’d buried a part of herself when she’d lost him. Slowly, though, she was coming back to some semblance of normality, telling herself to get on with it, that life had to go on regardless how much it hurt.
In the aftermath of Mike’s murder she’d ceased to care about the business – Darkes department stores, the chain she had built up from a single corner shop originally run by her dad – but now she was forcing herself to take up the reins again. As it had done so often in the past, work provided solace, kept her sane. Helped her to cope with her loss, just as it had when her twins were taken from her at birth.
She was lucky, she had to keep telling herself that. Against all odds, thirty years after she was separated from them, Daisy and Kit had come back into her life. Daisy, who’d been brought up by her biological father and his wife, had found it easier to forgive than Kit, who’d never known what it was to have a family. Even after he’d learned how she was forced to give him up, he couldn’t stop blaming her for abandoning him. While everyone else had rallied round after Michael’s death, Kit had kept his distance. That hurt her terribly.
Daisy, however, had been wonderful, as had Rob, Kit’s second-in-command, and all her staff. There had been notes of sympathy from her workers at all the stores, and even from Michael’s contacts and business associates, people she barely knew. Flowers from a man called Thomas Knox, and a note expressing his deepest sympathy. Then, a little later, a letter sent to her office, offering her help if she should ever need it, asking her to call him, asking if he could call her…
Ruby had quickly decided that she never would. She suspected that Knox, like Michael, operated on the precariously narrow line between big business and criminal activities, skirting between legit and not-so-kosher deals. Bad enough that Kit was following that same perilous path; all she wanted now was to escape that shadowy underworld. It was dark and it was dangerous. Look at what had happened to Michael. Wasn’t that proof enough?
‘Do you know a Thomas Knox?’ she’d asked Rob one day. She could always talk to Rob, far more easily than she could talk to Kit. Rob was solid as a rock; he’d been her minder last year, when she’d had need of one. He’d saved her life.
‘Knox? Sure. Hard man, a real face. He was at Michael’s funeral – didn’t you see him? Big guy. Fortyish. Blondish sort of hair. Why?’
‘No reason,’ said Ruby.
She was sure she had seen Knox there, watching her with hard blue eyes.
She kept the flowers – they were beautiful – but she binned the note, and the letter.
As she picked up the phone, Ruby’s mind had already made the assumption that it would be something to do with her plan to roll out coffee shops across the Darkes chain. Shifting to professional mode, she forced herself to confront her reflection in the mirror above the telephone table. Lately, she had avoided mirrors. Now she looked and there she was: Ruby Darke, still battling away, still coping. She saw a woman of a certain age and mixed race, dark haired with café au lait skin. She was model-thin (maybe too thin, since Michael had gone and food had lost its appeal) and elegant. She was dressed in black, and pearls. Her features were delicate, and her straight, thick black hair was swept back into a neat chignon. She looked confident and wealthy. But her eyes, darkest brown with speckles of copper-gold, told the true story. The expression in them was anxious and miserable, full of sadness.
‘Is that Ruby?’ It was a female voice, accented – French or Italian? – with a hint of uncertainty.
‘It is.’ A little frown of puzzlement wrinkled Ruby’s brow. ‘Who is this?’
‘I am Bella Danieri. Tito’s mother.’
Ruby’s false business smile dropped away. Italian, then. She’d heard the news about Tito, and how he’d died. Everyone had.
‘I want you to come to his Requiem Mass,’ said Bella. ‘If you would.’
‘Well I…’
‘Please. I want you to come.’ And Bella started reeling off the time, the place, the date.
Ruby paused, hearing but not wanting to, wondering how she could get out of this. She hadn’t even known Tito, not really. He’d been an associate of Michael’s, so she’d brushed up against him once or twice. She hadn’t liked him. One look into those soulless eyes had told her all she needed or wanted to know about Tito Danieri. She had formed the strong impression that Michael had done his utmost to keep her out of Tito’s way. So no, she didn’t want to attend his funeral.
‘I don’t know…’
‘Please, you must.’ Bella’s voice trembled. She stopped speaking. Then she seemed to gather her strength to go on. ‘Please come. I have to talk to you. Or I tell you, blood will flow.’
And there it was. The witch’s curse.
