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chapter 47
quinn
Quinn admires Zealy’s tight arse as she follows her into a bright, open-plan sitting room with a spectacular million-dollar view across the Thames. There must be family money here somewhere or maybe a sugar-daddy; Zealy Cardinal is a dance teacher with a struggling studio in Islington and there’s no way she could afford the Chihuly glass sculpture on the bookshelf or those Mies van der Rohe Barcelona chairs if she wasn’t being bankrolled by someone.
Zealy folds herself gracefully into one of the chrome and leather chairs, tucking her bare feet beneath her. Quinn’s eyes are drawn to her nipples, clearly visible beneath her white cashmere tunic.
‘You’ve got fifteen minutes,’ Zealy says.
Quinn puts her phone on the glass coffee table between them. ‘Mind if I record this?’ She indicates her withered arm. ‘I find it difficult to take notes.’
‘Fine.’
‘What can you tell me about Catherine Lord?’
Zealy looks disconcerted. ‘Catherine? You said on the phone you had information about my brother.’
‘Bear with me. I’ll get to that.’
Zealy plays with the slender silver bangle on her wrist. Herfingers are long and elegant, like the rest of her. ‘I can’t tell you anything,’ she says finally. ‘I don’t really know her.’
‘But your brother is close to her?’
‘Not really. Marc coached her at college. She’s Sian’s friend, not his. He introduced them, that’s all.’
‘Have you seen Catherine since the wedding?’ Quinn asks.
‘No.’
‘What about your brother? Has he seen her?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt it. I told you, she was Sian’s friend, not his. I shouldn’t think he’s seen her since the divorce.’ She sweeps her hair back from her face, looping the braids in a careless knot at the nape of her neck. ‘Look, I don’t see what any of this has to do with Marc.’
She’s a heartbeat from telling Quinn to leave.
‘You don’t like Catherine much, do you?’ Quinn says mildly.
Abruptly, Zealy leaps up from her two-thousand-dollar chair, clasping her slender arms around herself as if an Arctic blast has swept through the room.
Bingo.
‘There’s somethingoffabout her,’ Zealy says. ‘The whole time we were in Florida, she was just always …there. Every time you turned around. Listening in corners, watching you. It was weird. And she sucked up to Sian all the time, but I think she actually kind ofhatedher. One of those women who just doesn’t like other women, you know?’
Quinn suspects Zealy has met a lot of women like that.
‘What about Alexa Martini?’ Quinn asks. ‘How did Catherine get on with her?’
She shrugs. ‘They only spoke a couple of times.’
‘Did you ever suspect she might’ve had something to do with Lottie’s disappearance?’
Zealy rubs her upper arms nervously. ‘No. Maybe. I don’t know.’
Quinn turns off the recording on her phone. ‘Look, this is off the record,’ she says. ‘Just between you and me. Whatever you say won’t go any further than this room.’
Zealy chews her lip. ‘I don’t have any proof.’
‘I’m not asking for proof. What did your gut tell you, Zealy?’
