Beautiful Death

by Fiona McIntosh

  Geoff nodded. ‘Interesting take. And as you live alone, I’m glad you feel safe here.’

  ‘My place is just ahead, where that row of Victorian houses begins. It’s the one with the cat sitting on the steps. How long will you be gone, sir?’

  Geoff pulled in next to Kate’s house. ‘A week, then a week at home.’

  ‘Well, sir, when you get back from Scotland, let me buy you lunch, or dinner, or cook you something. I owe you that much.’

  He didn’t look at her but cleared his throat. ‘All right. I’ll call you sometime soon. That would be nice. I do like our detective inspectors to pay their dues.’

  She got out of the car grinning. She was already looking forward to seeing him in a less stressful situation. Kate leaned down to peer through the window. ‘Thanks for thinking of me as a friend to Jack.’

  ‘As I said, he’s a lucky bastard. Go catch a killer, Kate. Stay safe and ditch the fucking pea coat.’

  She exploded into laughter as she hurried up to her door, digging furiously in her bag for her key, because it was obvious he was going to wait until he saw her inside. She found it, turned it in the lock and switched on the light over the doorway. She waved and he tooted before merging into the snaking traffic.

  It had been a very long time since Kate had felt this smiley — and the pleasure causing it had come from the most unexpected source.

  13.

  Moshe Gluck looked up as his wife walked into their sitting room holding a tray.

  ‘Here’s your coffee,’ she said, her voice sounding tired. She balanced the load while pulling a small table from a nearby nest, putting it near his left knee. She placed the tray on it.

  ‘That’s not my usual mug,’ he commented, as he shifted his Hebrew newspaper to one side and regarded his coffee over the top of his glasses.

  ‘I’m sorry, Moshe, one of the children accidentally broke it today. I’ll replace it.’

  Moshe gave a tutt of exasperation. ‘You’re home all day and they’re at school for most of it. Why can’t you control them when you’re all together for a brief time?’

  She sighed. ‘Moshe, we have nine children. Accidents happen in a small house.’

  ‘So I don’t provide properly for my family, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘You know I’m not saying that,’ she said, her lips thinning.

  ‘Yet this house is too small, apparently,’ he replied.

  ‘No, Moshe. I’m just pointing out that nine children can be noisy and boisterous and sometimes things happen when they’re all playing.’

  ‘All right, all right, woman. Can’t you see I’m reading? Are they all asleep?’

  She sat down quietly opposite him and touched her headscarf. ‘They’re all in bed. Aaron wants to talk to you and Rubin is not yet asleep.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him tomorrow,’ he said, ignoring his wife’s look of disappointment. He put the paper down and took two gulps from his coffee. ‘I’m going out.’

  ‘Now?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Why not? It’s not late.’

  ‘It’s nearly eight-thirty and it’s so cold.’

  Moshe made a disdainful sound as he stood and readjusted his dark trousers. ‘Cold! As if that bothers me,’ he said, a smirk on his pale, pinched face. ‘It’s Purim next week — everyone will be out in the streets not even considering the weather.’

  ‘But where are you going?’

  ‘Don’t question me, Syrella. I am the man of this house.’

  She looked down. ‘That brute Schlimey left a message for you.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘He couldn’t get you he said, so he rang here a few minutes ago. Didn’t you hear the phone?’

  ‘I knew you’d get it. I assumed it was your sister or someone for you.’

  ‘Well it was your friend,’ she snapped.

  Moshe spoke in the quiet voice that he knew annoyed a lot of people, including his wife. ‘He’s not a friend, he’s a colleague.’

  ‘Colleague? What possible work could you and Schlimey Katz have in common?’

  ‘And that would be my business, not yours, woman. I earn the money; you keep house. That’s how it works. I do not discuss my business with you and I don’t expect you to discuss housework with me.’ He could see how cross she was becoming. Syrella was spoiling for a fight. Not like her. She was usually very compliant. Perhaps she needed sex? Her period was surely over more than a week ago, so sex was permissible again. He sounded more contrite. ‘Listen, I’ll be home soon.’ He watched her mouth twist. He wondered if she knew. Probably. It didn’t matter. ‘Have a bath.’

  She stood up. ‘No, Moshe. I don’t want any more children. And until you agree to let me take some precaution on timing, you might as well continue seeing the women whose cheap perfume I smell on your suit.’ She walked out, not even bothering to take his tray.

  So she did know. It made little difference. Lovemaking with Syrella was like driving his Volvo — safe, roomy, predictable and boring. He knew this only because sex with Claudia was far from boring and certainly not safe. It was how he imagined it must feel to drive very fast in a two-seater roadster. He smiled. Just thinking about her made him twitch into an instant hardening. He didn’t want Syrella to notice so he stood up with the newspaper positioned in front of his crotch, but hopefully she’d already stomped upstairs.

  He sighed. Perhaps he should allow her to go on the pill. It wasn’t banned and in truth the Gluck family had produced eight healthy children. He’d wait until the baby he could hear suddenly wailing had turned three before he’d feel fully comfortable that all nine of his offspring were fit and healthy. But no one could accuse him of not following the law to procreate. Nine more lives; nine new families in the making. Yes, he had done his work so no one could frown upon him for taking his pleasures elsewhere. He never broke the creed and masturbated and he was always careful to spill his seed inside Claudia, so as far as he was concerned he was a good, law-abiding Hasidic Jew. Despite Syrella’s sourness, he provided well for her. They were wealthy and getting wealthier with this business he had lately got himself involved with, but he had no intention of moving out of Stamford Hill, no matter what Syrella dreamed of. He liked it here. He didn’t want to move into something bigger and scream his wealth.

  He considered the latest venture as he waited for his erection to subside. It was dangerous, but the diamonds were worth it. He could store his earnings undeclared with ease, they were portable and transferable into cash at the drop of a hat. He lifted his long coat from the back of the seat and felt the reassuring weight of the diamonds he had carefully sewn into the corner of its lining.

  He smiled to himself. Walking around he was worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. Fortunately no one knew — not even Syrella. There was only so much she needed to know and as long as she kept believing he made his money from property, that was fine and she couldn’t be hurt.

  Moshe couldn’t imagine the victims could be traced back to him. So long as Namzul and Schlimey kept their mouths shut and did their jobs efficiently, all would be well. And he knew the doctor wouldn’t be breathing a word — not yet anyway. And once he did, any potential to implicate Moshe would be well and truly buried. The Bangladeshi had become a problem recently though, he had to admit. Gluck wondered if ultimately Namzul may need to be silenced; if he wasn’t prepared to keep spotting targets he’d become a loose cannon, capable of shooting Gluck down. He could count on Schlimey — he never worried about his Jewish colleague — but Namzul may well prove to be a thorn in his side that had to be plucked. But he would hold off a little longer.

  Right now, Claudia awaited him. A hundred pounds would buy him a whole night of lust, anything he wanted in fact — even several of the girls. He’d tried it once but didn’t enjoy it. He’d been unsure what to do. Satisfying a woman had never been his concern, and he had behaved awkwardly, felt they were smirking at him, staring at his pale, stringy body that he knew was not attractive. They had wanted
to touch his ringlets, but he hadn’t let them. They’d been laughing at them, rather than admiring them. No, he preferred Claudia alone; she knew how to show respect and to bring him to the heights of pleasure. She was worth £100 on her own — not that he would ever pay her that, of course. But £80 bought him sufficient time with Claudia at least once a week, and that was far more than she’d get from another mark for an hour. He was happy to pay it to ensure her loyalty and availability.

  As he flicked absentmindedly at dandruff on his shoulders, he decided he’d try something different tonight — something more perverse than Syrella would ever allow, and could probably not even imagine because, he was sure, she never fantasised. Claudia knew about sexual needs and encouraged him to try all manner of new positions and games he could never dream up himself. And she was discreet. He liked this about her. He knew she suspected he was more than a simple businessman who ran an estate agency above a famous Jewish bakery. But she never asked questions, never pried. She seemed uninterested in his background, faith and the way of life that seemed to so intrigue others, and this suited him. He liked most of all that when they were together she made him feel like a king, asked no questions, simply catered to his needs. It was uncomplicated and tidy. She took his money and gave him satisfaction in return. Yes, he liked Claudia and he hoped she’d be very creative tonight.

  Claudia was cold. She was also worried. She hadn’t seen Aniela since early this morning. In fact no one had. The last person who’d seen her was Eve, apparently, but the Polish girl had been surprisingly busy for most of the day and so Claudia hadn’t yet been able to talk to her. The young heroin user was due back on the street any moment. Claudia hoped Eve would hurry because Moshe wanted her to meet him at 9 p.m. in the café.

  She liked Moshe even though most of the other girls shuddered when they saw him and thought her unfortunate to have caught his eye. Moshe probably was her most physically unattractive regular client, but she had long ago taught herself to withhold judgement and shut away personal feelings; the younger girls had yet to learn that you only gave a very small and inconsequential part of yourself to the clients. Claudia trusted no one, not even quietly spoken Moshe, who had never hurt her or demanded anything she couldn’t provide with ease. Everyone had secrets — he was no different — and she wasn’t interested in knowing them. She liked his conservative manner, his politeness, his gentleness, how rich his laughter was when it came — and how much richer his payments were than most other marks’.

  Moshe paid whatever she asked and his requirements were neither bizarre nor taxing. It was obvious the sex he had at home was infrequent and straightforward. And even though it might be expected that tedium would spark his imagination, Moshe had little know-how or creativity in the bedroom. She could see, though, how much he enjoyed it when she suggested something different, slightly more risqué. She also knew he liked her, but in a remote way. She could tell he didn’t find her especially physically attractive; it was not her looks that always brought him back to her, it was her manner he liked. They didn’t talk about anything too deep and he didn’t suffer from jealousy. She was very grateful to Moshe for that. His maturity about her profession and the fact he never treated her as a possession were refreshing. She knew, too, that Moshe trusted her.

  Claudia had learned early that trust is power. She herself trusted no one, because she didn’t want anyone to have power over her. Her pimp, Leroy, respected her, even though he took so much of her earnings. But the truth was Leroy could see that Claudia was the marshal of his troupe. Without her, girls would go hungry, cold, would get beaten up more, would likely fall pregnant or succumb to disease. He paid the rent on their squalid living quarters and now and then would treat them to food or new clothes, but essentially they were his slaves and he didn’t care much about any of them beyond the money they brought in. She did, though. She cared about the other girls, all of them ‘sisters’ from Eastern Europe. And it was Moshe she had often turned to for help. Moshe never seemed to mind paying for a few bagels or hot coffees for her colleagues. So it pained her that they sometimes poked fun at him. He deserved better.

  She sighed as she stamped out another cigarette, contemplating the many lives she did her best to hold together. The girls were getting younger and younger and less able to look after themselves. She felt ancient at twenty-nine. Young Anna, for instance, was just fifteen. Youngsters like her were flooding into London, probably still under the impression that its streets were paved with gold. They learned the hard way that they were paved with as much sorrow and pain as the streets they had left behind. Poverty back home and slavery here were not so different. She shook her head. Where was Aniela? Where was Eve? Claudia glanced at her watch again. Moshe would be here in twenty minutes. She lit up again and at last caught sight of Eve, pulling a faux-fur jacket around her emaciated frame as she emerged from the station.

  ‘Are you done for the night?’ she asked.

  Eve nodded. ‘I’m so sore I couldn’t do another one.’

  ‘You’ve been busy.’

  The Polish girl nodded, her cheeks hollow, eyes haunted. ‘I’m hungry but I have to wait for Leroy. He wants to collect tonight and he’s promised me some fresh Judas. Good stuff.’

  Claudia switched to Polish. She knew she’d sound angrier in her native language. ‘Look at the state of you. Do you honestly believe a loser like Leroy will ever get the good stuff? It’s probably loaded with shit. And anyway, even if he could get the pure stuff, what makes you think that he’d give it to you?’

  ‘He promised,’ Eve replied sulkily.

  ‘Well, you’re an idiot,’ Claudia snarled, tired of her repeated warnings about drugs. She’d fortunately never had a habit; she couldn’t afford one anyway. Caring for her eight-year-old daughter soaked up all her cash. ‘Now tell me, where and when did you last see Aniela?’

  ‘Aniela?’ The girl frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘That new girl from Wales said you’d seen her last.’ Eve was losing focus; Claudia wanted to slap her, but Moshe would be at the café any minute now and he didn’t like it if she was late. She understood — like her, he had family to get back to. She had to find out quickly and losing her temper with Eve would not get her the information she wanted.

  ‘Come on, Eve, did you see her? Tell me. Think!’ She snapped her fingers angrily in front of the girl’s face and magically it had the right effect.

  Eve blinked, then looked irritated. ‘Yeah, I saw her. It was this morning. She went into the station with some guy. It was over in moments. Then we shared a cigarette or two. She did another guy and then afterwards she went off in a taxi.’

  ‘Taxi?’ Claudia repeated. ‘Did she say where?’

  ‘Yeah, but don’t ask me to remember. I was busy.’

  ‘Eve, I’ve told you how we have to protect each other. Aniela knows not to go off with a punter without leaving details of where she’s headed, and a description. She knows the rules.’

  ‘They’re your rules, Claudia,’ the girl sniped.

  ‘Rules that keep you girls alive!’ Claudia replied, her worry fully surfacing now. ‘She’s been gone all day apparently.’

  Eve shrugged. ‘Well, she said he was paying her well to go to his flat.’

  Claudia’s face fell. Aniela had broken another golden rule. ‘Where, Evie? Please try to remember.’

  The girl sighed again. ‘I’m hungry and I need a hit. I can’t think properly.’

  ‘Please, Evie.’

  The girl screwed up her face and looked to the heavens for inspiration. ‘I think it was Whitechapel. At least, that’s what I think I heard when she got into the taxi. Brick Lane or something.’

  ‘What about the man? Did you see him?’

  Eve shrugged. ‘Might have.’

  Claudia didn’t hesitate. She dug in her pocket and pulled out £5. ‘Here, get yourself something to eat. Now tell me.’

  Eve looked unimpressed but she stuffed the money in her pocket all the sa
me. ‘The guy didn’t want to do her downstairs. Too public. He wanted privacy and was prepared to pay for it.’ She ignored Claudia’s exasperated grunt. ‘I noticed him watching us.’

  ‘Watching?’

  ‘Yeah, you know. At first I thought he was shy, not sure what to do or how to approach us. But when he finally made up his mind I could tell it wasn’t that he was feeling awkward. I think he was just waiting for the chance to follow Aniela. He’d chosen her from afar.’

  ‘Evie, do you know how this sounds?’

  Eve shrugged again. ‘Sorry. I suppose it is creepy.’

  ‘Did you get a close look at him?’

  ‘Not really.’ She yawned loudly and long. It took all of Claudia’s willpower not to slap the girl. ‘But I know he’s foreign,’ Eve added.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well,’ Eve touched her skin, ‘he may be English but he is coloured. Indian-looking.’

  ‘Describe him!’

  ‘I can’t,’ she complained. ‘He had covered most of his face with a scarf and he wasn’t wearing anything I can really remember. A parka, jeans, nothing impressive. But he was small, you know. And he noticed me.’

  Claudia shook her head, not understanding.

  Eve returned the gesture with a smirk of disdain. ‘He glanced at me. He knew I’d seen him and he didn’t like it. Dark, staring eyes.’

  ‘Evie! Didn’t this strike you as dangerous? Why haven’t you said something?’

  ‘Why would I? Aniela’s a grown-up. She sounded pretty happy. He was paying her good cash and covering all expenses, including a meal. Who wouldn’t say yes?’ Eve demanded, suddenly defensive. ‘How was I to know she hadn’t come back? She could be shopping, spending the night with him, who knows?’

  Claudia growled her frustration, turned on her heel and stomped towards the café. It wasn’t as busy as usual, but still busy enough. She flung the door open and strode in, then ordered a coffee and a bagel. She needed something to occupy herself for fear she’d stomp straight back out to Eve and beat the living daylights out of her. She sat at her table over her steaming coffee and steamed with it.