Maggie had not changed at all. She had never once been the vulnerable victim she had portrayed at the office. Outmanoeuvred. Outgunned. Surrounded by danger and evil with only Jess knowing where she was. , There was only one person left for Maggie to kill and that was simply a matter of time.
Twenty
She made the cancellation call to the Galvans. Her voice sounded frail. She was disappointed that they never even asked her why she sounded so distant, so shocked. But then again, what did she expect? These people - her new associates – they were gangsters, not the Samaritans. The Middle Eastern guy with the big Luton Van came to their new address just as before, and brought in a trolley with a big oversize wooden case. If Maggie had asked her to help with moving Gerrard’s body or clearing up the blood, Eva had been prepared to tell the woman to go to hell, whatever the consequences were. She’d been implicated in the murder of Kendra by association. She was going to have nothing to do with this killing. Nothing whatsoever. Eva was in the realm of shock and reaction. There was still a whole bottle of the dry white on the dining table by the French doors. Eva stomped into the room, claimed it and walked straight upstairs. She felt like a naughty teenager, stealing from her wicked step-mother. A part of her was giving up – maybe the part which was so ready to reach for the bottle. But there was another part of her which was just plain angry. Angry at her dumb as shit self for getting involved with this crazy bitch when she’d already seen what she was capable of back in the summer. She hated herself for being so easily suckered into feeling sorry for the new vulnerable Maggie. And she’d gone starry eyed for the easy cash which seemed like a panacea to all her current problems. But now she, Eva, understood Maggie had done her research, had seen that the agency was on the ropes, and created a promise of easy cash to co-opt Eva into her scheme. The bitch had a seriously unhealthy obsession with her. That was for sure. Even while she was messing around with Kendra, she’d been making stalker eyes at her. Maybe this whole situation had worked out exactly as Maggie had wanted. Yes, it was possible. Maybe she decided to jettison Kendra any old how as soon as Eva was in the picture. But what happened after that was ruthless and brutal in the extreme. Kendra had definitely plotted against Maggie, she hadn’t imagined that. And Eva had been shot at, so something of this plot was genuine, but now Maggie had played her hand, Eva couldn’t tell for sure where the plot against Maggie ended, and where Maggie’s plot to capture her had begun. Poor Gerrard had only been guilty of two misdemeanours – being the mad woman’s cousin, and trying to help Eva because he was attracted to her. Eva had the feeling she would have liked to get to know Gerrard if not for the whole Kendra business. Listen to yourself, Eva thought. How warped has my world become? How low and crazy have my standards become… Since Dan’s absence, the world had fallen off its axis, but she didn’t know how. Eva sat in her room, the desk and sofa barricaded against the door. She drank out of a little porcelain cup designed to hold toothbrushes or mouthwash. The cup was small so she downed a cupful and instantly poured another. Still she couldn’t help the feeling they were being watched. She lifted the curtain of her room. The feeling had been there all day. Maybe it was the fear of the unknown hitman who’d come so close to killing her. Fear was certainly justified, but it didn’t quite feel like fear. It felt like… knowing there was someone there. Eva looked out of the back window over a well-tended garden, across other nice houses and shops towards the railway line and the strange science-fiction style edifice of the giant college building in the distance. No, there was no one watching, and no obvious vantage points either. Shame. Eva would have quite welcomed a bullet between the eyes right now, if it meant she was spared much more of Maggie. The thought of Maggie’s unfettered lust made her feel sick with anger.
When the wine had taken away the edge of anxiety and rage, Eva dialled Jess. She didn’t expect the girl to answer, but if she did, they would talk. It was too late in the game for anymore bullshit. The line picked up after three rings. Eva’s face softened and she sat up on the bed.
“Jess?”
“You okay? How are things going?”
“You were right, Jess, I was wrong. Maggie Gillespie hasn’t changed. In fact, she’s far worse than I ever knew.”
“She double-crossed you didn’t she? I knew she would, Eva. I just knew it. Her husband warned you about her once, too. You should have listened.”
Eva’s voice exploded. “How the hell did you know about that?”
“You told me.”
“This was about saving the business. Cash flow Jess. You know the books better than me, I did this for the business. I thought I could control the risks. In a sense, I did for a while, but I underestimated the biggest risk of all, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
This conversation was a one way street. Eva wondered if Jess was enjoying herself. Maybe she was better off by herself. Eva looked at the phone screen, ready to drop her thumb to cancel the call.
“Someone has graffitied the office, Eva.”
“What?” curiosity overcame her self-pity and she pressed the phone to her ear.
“You Made The Wrong Move. That’s all it says, in big purple spray all over the shutters.”
“I made the wrong move. It wasn’t you or your new boyfriend by any chance?” said Eva and laughed. Jess replied with a serious flat tone.
“No. It wasn’t me.”
“Joke, Jess.”
“Eva, have you been drinking?”
“Jess. Maggie Gillespie has just single-handedly butchered a man. Now I’m stuck in the house with her by myself…” Eva heard all her excuses and they sounded weak to her own ears.
“No! Eva, stop drinking now. Stay sharp. You need to stay as sharp as you can.”
“Oh I don’t want to be subtle and sharp anymore, Jess. I want to come at this like a sledgehammer, not a razor blade.”
“Please. Where are you?”
“The Conservation area, Southend. Number 17 opposite the French café and the bowling green. I texted you. Don’t you check your bloody work phone?”
“Shall I call the police now?”
“You do that and this will end up as a hostage situation or a murder Jess.”
“Ok. I won’t do that. Just stay there.”
“I don’t have a choice in that part, Jess.”
“Just stay sharp and stay safe.”
“Don’t get involved, okay, Jess. Just be ready and keep that masked lunatic well away from me. Do you understand?”
“Who said I was? Hold tight.”
Jess ended the call. Eva looked at the phone and tossed it to the bed. She looked at her little cup and downed it. She looked at the bottle next and picked it up again. But instead of pouring she leaned across the bed and tossed it into the bin by the desk. Jess was right. She still needed her smarts about her if she was going to make it out of here in once piece. She needed her game face on. Tonight in the game to survive, Eva was first going to play the compliant card. Eva opened her bag and pulled out the few token items she owned in the way of cosmetics. A near invisible blusher and a pale lipstick. She drew out her comb and started with her hair in the mirror. The beginnings of a plan were emerging, but it was sketchy at best. She was going to let Maggie think she was in the process of Stockholm Syndrome acceptance, and then she would bide her time to escape – with every penny of the loot she was promised. Eva knew she had done wrong, as so many other people seemed to know from the start. But with guile she could turn it round. It wasn’t going to be a comfortable ride
But if it worked, Eva was going to deliver the sledgehammer. A sledgehammer was the least Maggie deserved. And there was no way, no way in this world, Eva was leaving without her money. Maggie’s debt was going to be paid in full.
Twenty-one
Earlier:
Jess walked past the Superdrug in on the High Street. She walked fast. She glanced at the store and then looked away quickly. Inside she saw a man in the security get up of a black jumper, and cheap whit
e shirt, but she knew the truth deep down. Jess had caused him to get the sack for losing his radio set to a sassy young blonde who dressed like Kirsty Allsopp. Jess felt a little bad, but not too much and not for long. There was much more at stake than one chubby guy’s bad job. Maybe he would lose thirty pounds and travel the world and meditate at the top of a mountain. Or maybe not. Jess was walking to the bottom of the street faster than anyone else. She needed the vigilante guy more than ever. If Jess had explained her idea to her boss, Eva would have sent a hand down the airwaves to throttle her. Her idea was full of holes and corny hope where so far hope had not been rewarded. The vigilante had at least turned up for her, but when he made it to the Wakering safe house, he’d walked away leaving Eva in deep trouble, adding only the cloud of his own judgement to the mix. But maybe Eva deserved some judgement for her bad choices of late. Yes, the business was shipping money without much coming in. But in staying up late, sulking and drinking she had been ruining the one tool she had left to turn it around. The late nights and bottles of wine were even taking their toll on Eva’s looks. Damn, the woman was still beautiful, but those pale green eyes looked troubled with dark rings of worry. Eva’s quietude told Jess her boss was suffering a rare bout of self-pity since the loss of Dan. Was even that justified? No. Jess knew Eva had been ready to jettison Dan after his edgy, psycho behaviour during the Will Burton case. Yet all of a sudden she was sad, drinking herself into a deep hole. Even so if Eva knew Jess was going to try and get help from the maverick in the mask, Eva may have sacked her on the spot. But Jess was in the mood to gamble. What other option was there? And, being purely practical and selfish for a second - if there was no Eva, and no agency, it would be a dead cert that she would lose her job in any case. Gambling was definitely better than doing nothing.
Today she avoided the frozen yoghurt place for her radio scoping. Instead she snacked and drank a tall latte at the crepes shop which was filled with students who looked so young they should have been wearing nappies. Jess occupied a table for two by herself and turned her back on the other clientele. The young waitress-type arrived with her order, and gave a friendly smile ready to ask about her radio, but before she could speak, Jess gave her a deadpan withering look which made the girl run for the hills. Jess ate her crepes, drank her coffee and waited. And waited. Today the town was asleep. For the first time ever, the town was crime free. The radio was silent. For a town with a crime rate with spikes higher than a cardiac arrest, there was not even a blip. Maybe the masked man was making some headway in purging the town. Or maybe all the wrongness of the world had been condensed and transplanted in Maggie Gillespie’s body so the town was free. It was a theory. Jess ordered another set of crepes, and this time the waitress went away without even bothering to make eye contact. Finally, half way through the second set of crepes, there was a noticeable difference in the chatter. A voice said there was a disturbance near Sainsbury, the main supermarket in town. A thief had gone down and the security guard was tackling the situation outside. “One minute,” said Jess. “I’ll be back!” then ran out of the shop with the radio. “Hey!” called the waitress. Jess hadn’t paid up yet. Jess didn’t look back. She hurtled down Queens Road and along the curve past the Lego building towards the supermarket. She saw the problem straight away and she slowed down. A lanky security guard loomed over a guy on the floor. The guy on the floor was surrounded by bottles rolling away from him and packs of frozen meat. The guy looked like a standard issue bum – he was drunk looking, red faced and frail. The security guy had taken an easy opportunity to make headline on the airwaves. Damn. Just when she needed the masked man’s help, the town’s serious criminals had gone on strike. Jess turned away to face the music back at the crepes shop, but a flurry of movement down the road near the cinema caught her eye. The crowds were being split apart by a man in dark clothes surging through them. He darted between people and jumped into the road to get past others, seemingly choosing whatever route gave him the quickest option. Then the figure slowed his pace a notch to a brisk walk with more control in his step. Jess smiled. It was her turn to be discreet. Jess pressed into the door recess of the Roosters chicken joint, and peered through the glass as her target neared. She saw his reflection passing near. He still looked good. He was thin with slightly sunken cheeks which were full of excessive dark stubble which bordered on a beard. He had piercing dark eyes beneath the rim of his little black hat. His neck was wiry. He walked with square shoulders in an upright posture, and the backpack he was wearing today (colour – you guessed it – black) suggested he either studied or carried clothes from the gym. Everything about his gait and his body suggested he worked out. He wasn’t muscly but looked fit. The man stopped a way short of Roosters window, and looked towards the supermarket scene as Jess had. His face crinkled in disappointment. Any minute the guy was going to turn tail. It was time to make her move. Jess walked out into the street and kept her movements in pace with the crowd. When she was three bodies away, almost within touching distance, he saw her. His eyes widened and he immediately began to turn away. “Uh-uh-uh. You leave me now and I will shout vigilante so loud your mother will hear it.”
“Jess, my mother is dead,” he said without humour, but he looked at her evenly and without malice.
“You’re parents are dead too? Are you sure you’re not taking this Batman thing a bit too far?”
“I didn’t say my parents are dead. I said my mother was dead. My father is alive and well. He manages a factory in Rayleigh. He has a cholesterol problem. He looks like Jack Lemmon.”
“Weird. Shouldn’t he look like you? You don’t look like Jack Lemmon.”
“I’m surprised you even know who Jack Lemmon is. Maybe I’d look like him too if I was the funny type. But I’m not funny. Not much.”
“Plainly. You’re not Jack Lemmon. You’re Batman.”
“Knock it off. I’m not Batman.”
“Then who are you? I’m fed up of thinking of you as the masked man…”
“Simon. Just call me Simon.”
“Let me guess. That’s not your name, right?”
“No. But that’s what you can call me.”
“I bet your dad looks nothing like Jack Lemmon?”
“Actually, he does. What do you want from me?”
“You won’t help my boss, will you?”
“She’s into some bad things. Like I said. You reap what you so.”
“So it seems. She’s reaping now. But she didn’t mean to anything wrong, Simon. She did it because she was lost and needed money, and her partner messed up. She’s a good person. She needs some help.”
“Everything you just said. The judges hear that every day. Does it ever stop people going to jail?”
Jess shrugged.
“No. Because they still did wrong.”
“I should call you The Judge. I thought you were the hero type, not a lawyer or a bureaucrat. The world doesn’t need any more inflexible idiots who play by the book when the book doesn’t work.”
“I’m with you there.”
“Then help me.”
“She’s done wrong.”
“What if she always did right, always, always, always, and then made a mistake of investing her trust in someone because she liked to believe in second chances, and then they abused that trust. What if she never ever hurt someone unless there was a very good reason? And what if she was being held against her will.”
“That’s a lot of what ifs.”
“Granted. But they’re all true. She needs help. The Gillespie woman double-crossed her. Everyone apart from Eva is dead, and she will be next unless we help her.”
“I’m not your man.”
“But she’s innocent.”
“So you say. But that’s not what I saw. I saw an accomplice.”
“But you’re wrong, Simon. Totally wrong. Listen. If you won’t be our hero, can you at least help me track down someone who can help?”
The man looked at her quizzically and fo
lded his arms slowly and thoughtfully. “Is there anyone?”
“Believe it or not, Simon, you’re not the only show in town. I know another man who does the right thing even when other people think it’s wrong.”
The man made a face that said he wanted to know more.
“This guy is in hiding. If you won’t help Eva, I know this man will, but I can’t track him down. Do you think you could track him down?”
The man looked down the road through the crowds, as if he was thinking of making a quick getaway.
“Simon?”
“We can’t talk here. Let’s go.”
“Where?” said Jess with a big silly smile. “The Batcave?”
“Yeah, that’s right. The Batcave.” The Batcave turned out to be McDonalds. Sometimes the most public places can be the most private, thought Jess. Jess noticed Simon chose one of the round tables with four brightly coloured swivel chairs. The table was one of those out on its own, with plenty of room before you reached the other customers. Simon sat with his profile to the window, his back to most of the folk in the restaurant.
“Some Batcave.”
“I told you, I’m not Batman. I’m just a guy who does the right thing.”
“Smashing the crap out of people who have smashed the crap out of people. Nice moral high ground you’ve got there. Is it a good place to judge from?”
“Do you want my help or not? If you don’t want it, you can go and get…” “There are children around, Simon. I get the idea. You’ve drawn your line in the sand, so I need to find the man who can.”
“That’s the part I’m intrigued about. You think there’s another guy like me out there. Someone in hiding.”
“Someone who does what is right even when there is a cost. Yes. Don’t delude yourself, Simon. There are plenty of people like that. But most of them don’t wear masks and run around looking for naughty people to bash.”
Better the Devil Page 15
