Bad Blood Rising

by Eva Carmichael

  “You mean that bastard’s been blackmailing you to stay with him all this time?”

  Erica lowered her head. “I daren’t leave him, Joe. You know what Karl’s capable of. He doesn’t make idle threats.”

  “You leave Karl to me,” Joe said firmly. “I’ll deal with him. Now we’d better get over to the hotel. We were supposed to meet Charlotte there ten minutes ago.”

  FIFTY-SIX

  It was almost eight-thirty when Joe, Erica and Marion arrived at the Westbrook.

  “Does anyone want a drink before we go up?” Joe enquired.

  “No thanks, let’s just get this over with,” Erica answered. All three got into the lift and Joe pressed the button causing it to make its silent ascent. As they stepped out on the second floor, a young woman with striking red hair and wearing a short dark blue dress came towards them.

  “Bunny!” Marion cried sharply. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been visiting a client,” Bunny replied, looking quizzically at the trio as she stepped into the waiting lift. “Shirley arranged it. Is everything alright, Marion?”

  “Yes, of course it is, I was just surprised to see you, that’s all.”

  Bunny shrugged. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

  “She’s the last person I wanted to see,” Marion said irritably as the lift doors closed.

  “How long has she been with the agency?” Joe asked. “I haven’t seen her before.”

  “Not long. She came up from London a couple of months ago.”

  “I hope she doesn’t tell Karl she saw us in the hotel,” Erica said anxiously. “He thinks I’m here to have dinner in the bar with you.”

  “Don’t worry. Bunny doesn’t work in the club so there’s no reason for her to come into contact with Karl.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Erica sighed as she knocked on the door of room 231.

  It was a few minutes before the door was opened by Charlotte. Erica could see at once that she had been crying.

  “Charlotte, darling, what’s happened? Are you alright?” She pushed her way into the room followed closely by Marion and Joe.

  “Erica, you were right,” Charlotte sobbed. “I shouldn’t have said anything about what you told me the other day.”

  “Why, what’s happened?”

  “It’s Rory. We were going to get married and… and he’s broken off our engagement. Rory said he didn’t want the daughter of a common prostitute to be the mother of his children.” Tears began to run down her cheeks and she gratefully accepted the handkerchief offered to her by Joe. “He was so angry, Erica.”

  “It’s not your fault, darling,” Erica soothed. “None of this is your fault. You must never think that.”

  “Erica, I have to know what happened to my mother. I have a right to know.”

  An uneasy silence fell upon the group.

  “Alright,” Erica said at last. “I’ll tell you everything that happened.” Erica took Charlotte’s hand and gently led her to the couch. “You know your mother was a sex worker?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “She actually worked for Karl. He ran the working girls in the city back then.”

  “She did what?”

  “It seems that Paula had something on Karl and tried to blackmail him. I don’t know what about, none of us do. That’s why he attacked her with a knife.”

  “Karl killed my mother? You mean you knew what he had done and you did nothing?”

  “There were reasons why I couldn’t say anything,” Erica said softly.

  “What reasons? I don’t understand.”

  Without faltering Erica told Charlotte of her father’s abuse towards Mary and herself and how she came to accidentally kill him. She explained Karl’s involvement in disposing of the body, and later how he had threatened to tell the police if she tried to leave him.

  “One word from Karl and I’d be sent to prison, he’d make sure of that. He still has the paperweight I hit my father with. I’m terrified of him, Charlotte. You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

  Charlotte pulled away from Erica. “What happened next?”

  “Joe rang me that night and told me what had happened. He said he had buried your mother’s body.”

  “He buried her?”

  “Yes. I telephoned Marion straight away and told her that Paula had been killed. We knew we couldn’t do anything to help Paula but we could help you. You were only a few months old at the time. Marion and I decided to take you over to Ireland to my sister. She and Liam were desperate for a child, and I knew you would be safe with them.”

  “My mother knew what Karl had done? She knew?”

  “No, Mary didn’t know anything about Karl’s involvement. We just told her Paula had been murdered whilst working on the streets. Mary agreed at once to take care of you. It was easy for Liam to get the necessary paperwork.”

  “I took Erica over to Liverpool to catch the ferry the next morning,” Joe explained. “We collected you on the way. Within a few hours you were safe with Mary and Liam.”

  “We did what we thought was for the best,” Erica spoke almost in a whisper as tears ran down her face. “I begged Joe and Marion not to tell the police what Karl had done. I knew he would tell them about me killing my father and…” Erica began sobbing uncontrollably and Joe held her tightly in his arms, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

  “Your welfare was the most important thing,” Marion said. “If the police knew what had happened to Paula they would have put you into care and your mother wouldn’t have wanted that. I agreed to keep quiet about Karl’s involvement because Erica begged me to. She promised she would always take care of you, and she’s kept that promise.”

  “That’s why you’ve been sending me money every month?”

  Erica nodded.

  “Joe, you said you buried my mother? Where?”

  “I’d seen an open grave at the cemetery. The funeral was scheduled for the following day. I had a spade in the back of the car. I dug an extra foot down and placed Paula’s body in the grave covering her with a layer of soil.”

  “So she’s actually buried in a graveyard? In consecrated ground?”

  Joe nodded.

  “Well, that’s something I suppose.”

  “I know it’s no consolation,” Joe said trying to lighten the mood, “but Paula put up one hell of a fight. Karl still has the scar on his cheek from where she cut him.”

  ”And nobody has any idea what she had on him? He must have been desperate to keep her quiet, whatever it was.”

  “We’ll probably never know,” Erica said quietly.

  “You haven’t told me about my father. He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

  “Yes he is, but Charlotte, believe me, your father is no good. Please trust me and keep away from him.”

  Charlotte remained silent, her hands tightly clasped on her lap.

  “Now that you know everything that happened, what are you going to do?” Joe asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you going to the police and tell them what we’ve told you?”

  “I should. We can’t let Karl get away with what he’s done.”

  “We can if it means Erica isn’t harmed. She was just a kid when she killed her father, and from what I’ve heard he deserved everything he got.”

  Charlotte walked over to Erica and put her arms around her neck, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Don’t worry,” she whispered softly. “I won’t let Karl hurt you, I promise.”

  “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could do with a drink,” Marion said cheerfully.

  “Good idea,” Joe grinned. “Are you coming down to the bar, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  They made their way to the lift and down into the hotel bar in silence. A hen party was in full swing that night and the atmosphere was boisterous as they made their way to a small table at the far end of the room.

  “Oh look,
there’s Bunny,” Charlotte cried excitedly, hurrying over to the young woman sat at the bar.

  “Hi Bunny, remember me?”

  “Of course I do,” Bunny smiled. “It’s lovely to see you again, Charlotte. I…” Suddenly Bunny became aware of Marion glaring at her. “I’m sorry but I can’t stay to chat,” she said, hurriedly drinking the remnants of her wine. “I’m meeting a friend in town. See you later.”

  Charlotte returned to the table smiling. “That was Bunny. Isn’t she pretty? I wish I had red hair like her instead of this pale blonde.”

  “The colour isn’t natural,” Marion snapped spitefully, “it’s out of a bottle. How do you know her anyway?”

  “I met her at breakfast the other morning. She was with a client.”

  “What do you mean a client?”

  “I’m not stupid, Marion. I know Bunny’s a prostitute.”

  “An escort,” Marion corrected. “She’s not a prostitute. she’s an escort, and I don’t think you should be associating with her.”

  “I like her.”

  Marion and Erica exchanged worried looks.

  “Charlotte, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t I speak with Rory and try and smooth things out between you two? When I met him at the funeral he seemed like a very kind man. I’m sure I can make him understand that…”

  “No, Erica. Rory and I are done. Anyway, I don’t think I’d make a very good farmer’s wife, do you?”

  Erica shrugged but couldn’t help smiling. “Well, maybe not dear,” she conceded. “Have you decided what you do want to do?”

  Before Charlotte could respond, the waitress came to the table to take their order.

  “Gin and tonics all round?” Joe asked.

  Everyone nodded.

  “I think I’ll stay in England,” Charlotte said once the waitress had left the table. “I have a dual passport, what with my mother being English. I’m a qualified teaching assistant so I’m sure I could get a job quite easily.”

  “That sounds a good idea, but won’t you miss your family in Ireland? When I was there I got the impression you were very close to Liam’s relatives.”

  “We are close, but I can still visit them, or they could come over and visit me, as long as they don’t all come at once. There are dozens of them.”

  “Well, we’ll have to see about getting you a job if you’re sure you want to live in England.”

  “Erica, I’ve been thinking. Would you mind if I stay with you and Karl?”

  “Stay with us? But I thought you…”

  “Karl doesn’t know I’m Paula’s daughter, does he?”

  “No, of course he doesn’t. He knows Mary and Liam adopted you but…”

  “Well then, what would be more natural than your grieving niece coming to stay for a while? He wouldn’t mind, would he?”

  “I suppose not. He’s rarely at home these days.”

  “Too busy running his seedy little empire, eh? I promise you won’t know I’m there. Can we arrange it for tomorrow night?”

  “Why do you want to stay with us?”

  “I just want to see what sort of a person Karl is. I promise I won’t make a scene.”

  Erica glanced at Joe and Marion for support. “Well, alright, I suppose,” she said reluctantly, “but you must be careful, Charlotte. Karl is a very dangerous man.”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Paul Borowicz was in his late twenties. His dark brown hair was styled by a leading salon and his clothes were from one of the swankiest boutiques. Paul’s handsome face was lightly tanned and thick black lashes complimented his dark grey eyes. At six foot four, his muscular frame bore testimony to his four visits to the gym each week.

  Paul stood in the shadowy doorway of the jeweller’s shop watching the foyer of the hospital. He didn’t have long to wait before Rachel came through the revolving door and out onto the street. Paul watched as she crossed the road and hurried along Charlton Street. It was eight o’clock but already the nights were drawing in, heralding the end of summer. Rachel turned down Charlton Street and into Jessop Road. Paul smiled as he realised she was going to the Red Lion pub, just like she had done the previous night.

  Rachel Baxter was in her early forties and at least three stone heavier than her five foot three frame should carry. She was a plain woman with thick mousey hair falling onto her broad shoulders with a heavy fringe resting just above her plastic-rimmed glasses. Rachel was single with no children, very few relatives and even fewer friends. Spending an hour in the pub after work each night had become a regular habit, better than spending time alone in her small flat she had reasoned. After ordering her usual pint of lager from the bar, Rachel spun round in search of an empty table. On turning, she bumped into Paul, causing her lager to splash onto the floor.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she spluttered. “I didn’t see you there, I…”

  “It’s alright,” Paul grinned. “It was my fault not yours. Please, let me get you another drink.”

  Rachel felt the colour rising in her plump cheeks. She always blushed when she was embarrassed and this handsome stranger made her feel very embarrassed, but in a good way.

  “There’s a table over there,” Paul smiled, leading her away from the bar towards the back of the pub. “What is it you’re drinking? Lager? Perhaps you’d let me get you something a little stronger? It’s the least I can do.”

  “Well, I…” she spluttered, “if you’re sure, maybe a vodka and tonic?”

  Soon Paul was back at the table with two drinks. “My name’s Paul,” he said.

  “I’m Rachel.”

  “Well it’s very nice to meet you, Rachel,” Paul smiled raising his glass. “So Rachel, what’s a nice girl like you…?”

  “Please stop,” Rachel chuckled. “That’s so corny.”

  “Corny?” Paul said, feigning indignance. “That’s my best line.”

  “What do you do, Paul? I haven’t seen you around here before?”

  “I’m here for a business meeting. I’ve just come into town for a couple of drinks.”

  “What sort of business are you in?”

  “Knickers,” Paul answered, grinning. “Knickers and bras and all other types of ladies’ intimate apparel,” he winked mischievously. “I believe it’s referred to in polite circles as ladies’ lingerie. I’m looking for new outlets.”

  “Oh Paul, you are funny,” Rachel chuckled. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Another drink?” he offered, rising from the table. “Then you can tell me all about yourself.”

  Soon Paul was back at the table with two more drinks. “So?” he began, “what do you do Rachel? Or would you like me to guess?”

  “Go on then,” she encouraged. “What do you think I do?”

  “Well, I don’t see you as a shop worker or a bank clerk. A teacher perhaps? No, not a teacher, and I don’t think you’re a policewoman either. Maybe a nurse?”

  “That’s right,” Rachel chortled. “I work at the City General.”

  “I knew it,” Paul cried triumphantly. “I knew it would be something noble and worthwhile. You just have that caring aura about you.”

  Rachel felt herself blushing as Paul reached for her hand. “How long have you been a nurse?”

  “Just over twenty years.”

  “Twenty years? Christ, you must have started nursing in junior school.”

  “Stop it,” Rachel chastised playfully. “You really are too bad, Paul.”

  “I want to hear all about being a nurse.” Paul suddenly became serious. “What it’s like having people around you that are only alive because of your skill.”

  “Oh it’s not like that, really it isn’t,” Rachel protested. “I’m only a humble nurse. It’s the doctors who save lives, not me.”

  “Nonsense,” Paul contradicted. “It’s nurses that do the real work, everyone knows that. Nurses might not make the diagnosis but they’re the ones that make the difference.”

  “It’s kind of you to say s
o but…”

  “Tell me about the doctors you work with. A load of egotistical wankers, I bet.”

  Rachel giggled at Paul’s comment as she drained her glass. “You really don’t understand about doctors. They’re not egotists, they’re just…”

  “Wankers?” Paul suggested, smiling. “I’ll get us another drink, Rachel, and you can tell me all about them.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rachel was relaying to Paul the shortcomings of her medical colleagues. From Marie, the midwife who was about to marry for the fourth time at the tender age of thirty-two, to Abigail, the sixty-two year old receptionist who had recently declared she was a lesbian and had been living with another woman for the past twenty years.

  “I suspect the doctors aren’t much better. They probably behave even worse. I bet you know plenty about them, eh?”

  The drink was taking its toll on Rachel as her speech became slurred. “Doctors behaving badly?” she grinned. “That will be Doctor Sutton. He’s a very bad boy.”

  “What’s Dr Sutton been up to? Why is he a bad boy?”

  Rachel began to giggle. “Drugs,” she whispered. “There are rumours going round that the hospital board suspect him of stealing drugs.”

  “What sort of drugs?”

  Rachel closed her eyes and her head lolled forward. Paul grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her. Slowly she opened her eyes.

  “Rachel, tell me about Dr Sutton and the drugs.”

  “Under investigation,” she mumbled.

  “Dr Sutton’s under investigation for stealing drugs? Is that what you’re saying, Rachel?”

  “Yes, but I like him. He’s very good looking, just like you.” She put her hand up to Paul’s face. “Alex Sutton is very sexy,” she purred. “All the nurses think so. He’s a twin you know.”

  “A twin? Alex has a twin? Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I met his twin at the staff Christmas party about three years ago.” Rachel closed her eyes once more and her head began to loll forward.

  “Wake up, Rachel,” Paul said sternly as he shook her more violently. “Wake up, that’s a good girl. Tell me about Alex’s twin. What’s his name?”