Private Princess

Chapter 42

Peter Knight watched from the Kensington home’s doorway as Eliza Lightwood’s stretcher was loaded onto the back of an ambulance. Though he had prevented a stabbing, and possibly murder, Knight felt awful — he had been raised never to hit women. At moments like this, he wondered what his beloved wife would think of him.

“Everything all right?” a police officer asked, seeing Knight’s melancholy.

“All good,” he lied.

“Look, doesn’t sound like there was any other choice,” the officer comforted the Private agent, empathizing with him. “I just finished interviewing your man in there, and he says that you saved his life.”

“Still...”

“No one said our jobs are easy.” The policeman shrugged. “He’s all yours if you want to talk to him.”

Knight gave his thanks to the officer, took one last look at the ambulance and walked back into the house. He found Mayoor Patel in the kitchen, the tea in his hand almost sent spilling as he got to his feet quickly at the sight of Knight.

“Mate, thank you so much, yeah.” Mayoor Patel spoke with an energized London accent. “You saved my life, mate. Listen. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, you’ve got it. Anything, yeah.”

“Thanks. I’m Peter Knight.”

“Mayoor Patel.”

“Do you mind if I sit down with you, Mayoor?”

“Course not. You want a tea? Or a beer? We could go out for a drink if you want, yeah? I owe you my life, mate.”

“Tea will be good, thanks.”

Knight watched as Patel quickly fussed over the brew and brought it to the table. “I’m all out of biscuits, mate,” Patel apologized, sitting down.

“That’s OK. I just want to ask you a few things, if that’s OK?”

“What, like questions?”

Knight nodded, and a frown grew on Patel’s face. “I already spoke with the police.”

“I’m a private investigator,” Knight explained. “I was following Eliza when she attacked you. Anything you could help me learn about her would help.”

“Oh... well, yeah. Happy to help.”

“So how do you know each other?”

“We work together, yeah. Sometimes, anyway. I’m at a hedge fund, and we have some mutual interests.”

“Would one of those mutual interests be Sophie Edwards?” Knight asked, leaning back into his chair.

For a moment Patel said nothing. Knight tried to decide if his wide eyes were a symptom of confusion, or fear.

“Sophie?” the man managed after a moment.

Knight nodded.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Patel explained. “What’s she got to do with Eliza?”

“They were at LSE together.”

“So were a lot of the City,” he shrugged, referring to London’s financial sector.

“That’s true. But Eliza came to your house with a knife and was screaming ‘where is she?’ Is she talking about Sophie?”

“If you’re not police, I don’t have to talk to you, do I?”

“You don’t. But I can ask them to come back in if you like?”

Patel said nothing.

“I saved your life, Mayoor,” Knight went on. “Why would I do that if I wasn’t on your side?”

The man thought that over. “Listen, yeah. Soph is a free spirit. She comes when she wants, she goes when she wants. I don’t know where she is now, and I definitely have no fucking idea why that information is worth stabbing me for.”

“When was the last time you heard from Sophie?”

“Couple days ago.” Patel shrugged again. “Like I said, she’s a free spirit. Can I use the bathroom before we keep going with this? I’ve had two teas now and I was already close to pissing myself when she pulled that knife.”

Knight’s eyes narrowed a little in suspicion.

“It’s right there.” Patel pointed to a door adjoining the kitchen, and Knight was able to see that it was central to the house.

“It’s your home.”

Knight watched as the man opened the door, a quick look satisfying him that it was a small bathroom and nothing else.

“Peter,” the policeman said, poking his head inside the kitchen. “We’re going to leave now if you don’t need us.”

“All good.” Both men tried not to laugh as the sound of loose bowels emanated from the bathroom.

“Can’t really blame him,” the officer said. “It was a big knife. See you soon, Peter.”

Knight said his goodbyes. Looking for a distraction from the noises coming from the bathroom, he got to his feet and began to pace the kitchen. There were photos of Sophie Edwards and Mayoor Patel dotted about, some stuck to the fridge with magnets, others framed and placed on work surfaces.

He noticed that one of the framed photos was turned facedown. He lifted it and saw a smiling Patel and Sophie standing beside a waterfall. The picture was so calm and idyllic that for a moment, Knight swore he could hear running water.

And then he remembered Jack’s description of where Sophie’s body had been found.

He turned toward the bathroom, but it was too late. The door was open and Mayoor Patel was a half-step away from him — and there was something in his hands.

Then, for Knight, there was darkness.