Cold Blood

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘Money, Mrs Page, is not something that Elizabeth Caley has any worries over.’

  ‘Just one more thing, Phyllis. How close to the time of Anna Louise’s disappearance did Mr Caley forbid her to see Juda Salina?’

  ‘Oh, weeks before. Then after Anna Louise disappeared, Mr Caley agreed to allow Mrs Salina to visit but stopped her coming after about three or four months. Now please, I really should go in. Good evening.’ And with that, Phyllis hurried into the church hall.

  Lorraine frowned; why did Elizabeth Caley have such a prissy woman caring for her?

  Rosie banged the car door shut, shouting, ‘I got to go in, Lorraine! Lorraine!’

  Lorraine was still frowning as she joined Rosie. ‘You know, I don’t think Phyllis even likes Elizabeth Caley.’

  ‘You going into the meeting?’

  Lorraine shook her head. ‘No, you go ahead.’

  Rosie sighed with irritation as she watched Lorraine walk towards the car. ‘Maybe you should.’

  Lorraine whipped round. ‘We got two weeks, Rosie.’

  ‘I know that, but how am I going to get home?’

  Lorraine sighed. ‘Ask Phyllis to give you a ride.’

  Rosie was tight-lipped: sometimes she really didn’t like the way Lorraine treated her, and she was just about to say so when Lorraine turned back and gave her a hug.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to sound so pushy . . . but we are pushed for time, Rosie, and I think I’m on to something. Not sure what it is yet, but if you can’t get a ride, take a cab, okay?’

  Rosie patted her friend’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll get home. You know Nick will look after you, don’t you?’

  ‘What?’

  Rosie winked. ‘I never said nothing, but he’s kind of got the hots for you, so you treat him nice.’

  Lorraine laughed. Sometimes Rosie could be so dumb. ‘No, Rosie, he just wants a cut of the one million, that’s what he’s got the hots for, and we may just be getting closer to it. See you later.’

  CHAPTER 8

  IT WAS 11.30 p.m., already the third night of the investigation, and Lorraine was not as confident as she had led Rosie to believe. She gave herself the critical eye; she was wearing a short black dress, secondhand naturally, but with its Donna Karan label, she knew it had once been expensive. She had also acquired, from the daughter of the Hispanics living in the apartment below, a pair of red platform high-heeled shoes. The black stockings were her own. She had washed her hair, still unsure about the new cut, and was just wondering if she should put even more make-up on when there was a knock on the door.

  Rosie had got a ride home from her meeting and was sitting in front of the television with a bowl of grapes.

  ‘Come in, it’s open.’

  ‘Hi, is she ready?’ Nick said loudly.

  Rosie nodded, and used the remote control to switch the TV off. ‘What’s this Viper Club like then?’

  Nick sauntered in. ‘Viper Room, you don’t call it a club, Rosie. Is she for real then?’

  Rosie shrugged. Lorraine walked in and Nick tried not to over-react, because she looked so different. ‘My, my, we are pulling out the stops.’

  Lorraine looked at him. ‘Wish I could say the same for you, you rolled out of bed to get here?’

  ‘I most surely did. So this is on, is it?’

  ‘You think I got dressed up like this for fun?’

  ‘Turns me on, I think it’s the shoes. Man, you gotta be six foot in them.’

  Lorraine put on a pair of shades and waved at Rosie. ‘See you. Come on, Nick, let’s go.’ She peered at his denim jacket. ‘Holy shit, you got dog hairs all over you.’

  ‘Well, I would, I got a dog. G’night, Rosie.’

  Nick glanced over the note found in Anna Louise Caley’s bedroom. He said nothing as he passed it back to Lorraine. He was still taken aback by her appearance, and when she leaned close to him, he got an erection. It annoyed him that she could make him react to her so physically.

  ‘I want to find out who this guy Polar is. She had matches from the Viper Room so we’ll start there. And there were other matchbooks from On the Rox and . . .’

  ‘Look, no need to explain, we’ll suss it out, okay?’ He seemed irritated and she didn’t have the slightest inkling that it was because he found her so attractive. They turned on to Sunset and drove past the flash parade of yuppie wannabe Hell’s Angels on their shiny chrome bikes, past the neon-lit zone, the hookers and the pimps, past the open-fronted bars and cafés, until he pulled over into a vacant parking bay outside a sleazy joint called Alfredo’s Live Striptease.

  ‘We’re here?’ Lorraine asked.

  ‘Nope, but I need to see a friend. Just hang in there, I’ll be a couple of seconds.’

  Nick hopped out of the jeep and went into the strip joint. Lorraine waited with Tiger’s hot, panting breath wafting past her face.

  ‘Sit back a bit, you stink.’

  He looked duly miffed and squatted back, then the sides of his huge mouth lifted and he gave a low growl.

  ‘Hey, sit on my knee if it makes you happy, just don’t bite me.’

  She heard the thud-thud of his tail as it whacked against his food bowl. There was no growl, but his lip curled up to reveal his teeth and it looked like he was smiling, which made Lorraine laugh.

  ‘Good boy. I could get to like you, you know that?’

  And she really believed she could when two drunk, leather-clad bikers stumbled against the jeep and one looked in, sneering, to ask, ‘How much?’

  Tiger went for the jugular, fast, and the biker reeled off, scared shitless.

  Lorraine reached out and patted his big head. ‘Nice one.’

  ‘Winning you over, is he?’ Nick said as he opened the driver’s door. He started up the engine. ‘Okay, I got our calling card so maybe we can get in . . . But if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, you’re the wrong side of thirty and there are not a lot of chicks in there over twenty. Guys can get in any age so long as they’re famous an’ their wallets’re heavy. Still, we’ll have a go.’

  They drove out into the night traffic and Lorraine asked if Nick had some movie star contact. He laughed, shaking his head. ‘Nah! Feel in my pocket, I’ve gone one better.’

  She slipped her hand into his denim jacket and pulled out a plastic bag. ‘Nick, what you playin’ at?’

  ‘Cocaine, well, some of it, rest is scouring powder. You ain’t somebody unless you have something that the somebodies want, right?’

  ‘You mean you just scored this?’

  ‘Nope, well, in a way. Remember me tellin’ you about Fisher?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  ‘Tony T. Loredo owns that dive. I busted him in eighty-five but I did him a favour. Since then he’s come up in the world, and he supplies young meat, chicks, dope, you name it, to the movie stars. I’m gonna use him as an intro. All right with you?’

  They pulled up outside the Viper Room’s dark, nondescript entrance; the only indications that it was a club were the heavy-duty bouncers on the door and the stretch limos pulling up and moving off as their clients staggered into the venue.

  Nick leaned out of the jeep and called out to one of the bouncers. ‘Hey, man, gimme an ear, will ya?’ He turned back to Lorraine. ‘Bend your head forwards, look like you’re out of it, cover your face with your hair. Do it!’ The bouncer came up closer. ‘Keep your distance, I got a mad dog in the back and a real one beside me . . . I also got some merchandise Tony said he wants me to deliver.’

  The bouncer stared at Lorraine, then at Nick, who eased out his bag a fraction. The bouncer stepped back, nodding, and pointed for Nick to park up a way down the road.

  ‘Right, we’re in . . .’

  ‘In’ blew Lorraine’s mind. The main club room was so dark she could hardly see and the music was so loud it was deafening. She tried as best she could to see through the darkness. She focused on a young girl wearing black bra and panties, and fish-net stockings. ‘You think she maybe
had a dress on when she arrived?’ she said to Nick, but he was looking around. He then turned back and leaned in close.

  ‘Over to your right, clutch of supermodels.’ Nick pointed up above them. ‘That’s a room with a two-way mirror on to the dance floor. Some of ’em get a kick out of screwing up there on top of all these assholes. Still, takes all kinds . . .’

  ‘Yeah, and maybe Anna Louise Caley was one of them. How do we go about it?’

  Nick shrugged. ‘I think we’re wasting our time. Come on, that note you found in the girl’s bedroom is juvenile dementia, a kid writing dirty, so what?’

  ‘It might mean something if we track down this guy Polar.’

  Nick signalled to a waiter. She could feel he was edgy, his eyes darting around all the time. He searched in his pockets and took out a picture of Anna Louise.

  ‘You got any cash on you? Like fifties, ten bucks no good, I need a few big notes.’ Lorraine opened her purse and he suddenly leaned in close and whispered to her, ‘Head down and stoned, sweetheart.’

  She looked up as a waiter closed in on Nick. ‘Hi, man, gimme a Mexican and a Diet Coke. Hey, a second.’

  The waiter leaned forward.

  ‘I need to get shot of this.’ Nick jerked his thumb at Lorraine, and then winked at the waiter. ‘My friend Tony, Loredo T., wants to know if this chick’s been in. Reason is she owes him, understand? Lot of dough. And if you can tip him off, there’s something in it for you . . .’ Nick drew out the plastic bag. ‘Worth fifteen big ones . . . all yours. Act real cool about it, man, but I need to know if she used to hang out down here.’

  ‘Sure, a Mexican beer and one Coke.’ The waiter took the photo without looking at it and two fifty dollar notes with a nice swift move so they were hidden under his tray.

  Lorraine hissed. ‘A hundred bucks, Nick, are you crazy?’

  He kept looking around the dark dance floor where a girl was stripping; nobody seemed all that interested. ‘That’s shit, some of these kids drop ten, fifteen thousand bucks a night down here. I’m gonna take a leak, you okay to hang out on your own?’

  She turned away. ‘I been in places a lot worse than this.’

  He leaned close. ‘This is class, sweetheart. Won’t be long.’

  He was away at least twenty minutes. Lorraine watched the stoned kids, some openly snorting coke. One girl was so high she sat with her legs apart in a stupor. As guys walked past her, they groped her and all she could do was just about hold her head straight.

  Lorraine got up and headed for the restroom. She was pushed and jostled, and saw more lines of coke laid out and young teenage girls huddled together, wearing as little as possible. Lorraine felt old; not that anyone bothered even to look in her direction, they were too intent on getting noticed by one or other of the ‘stars’.

  Nick had still not shown when she made her way back to where she had been sitting, but the seats were now occupied by a couple on the verge of copulating, so she picked up her glass and turned away. She took a gulp, then freaked because it wasn’t straight Coke, it had rum in it, and a lot of it, mixed with God knows what else.

  The alcohol hit her throat like a fireball. She swallowed. It took a lot of will-power to put the glass down but she did. She edged away and was pushed against the wall by a group of guys dancing with each other. She pressed her back hard against the suedette wall, could feel the panic starting and wished Nick would show. Her dress clung to her as she broke out in sweat, the heat stifling, the thudding music overpowering – but not as hard to ignore as her need to finish the drink.

  ‘Where’s your friend?’ the waiter hissed, and she turned to be blinded by spinning spotlights. ‘He in the John? Or upstairs? Don’t look at me, act like I’m taking your order.’

  She closed her eyes, sweat trickling down her body. She swallowed, her mouth felt rancid.

  Nick appeared right behind the waiter. ‘Hey, man, you got a guy fuckin’ a chick in the John.’

  ‘So? Listen, I can be out the back door in ten, my break’s due, okay?’

  Nick nodded, and as the waiter took off he grinned at Lorraine. ‘Quite a show in there.’

  ‘Get me out of here, Nick.’

  He laughed. ‘What? Can’t take it? But you said you . . .’ He suddenly knew she was in trouble and gripped her elbow, easing her forward and out into the cool night air.

  Lorraine leaned against the side of the jeep. ‘Somebody spiked my drink or I picked up somebody else’s and . . . sorry, sorry, I got all hyper in there.’

  She was so vulnerable, her whole body shaking, and he put his arm around her, walking her to the jeep door.

  ‘Come on, sit inside, you’re okay . . . You want some water?’

  She stumbled and he held on tightly as he helped her. He reached over to the back seat. Tiger’s head appeared and he gave him a quick pat as he unscrewed a bottle of Evian.

  ‘It’s Tiger’s but I guess he won’t mind.’

  She gulped at the water; it was lukewarm but it was liquid. She was scared to feel so dependent. ‘Sorry about this, sorry.’

  He gently stroked her cheek. ‘Sweetheart, you don’t have to be sorry, I shouldn’t have stayed in the John but the floor show was somethin’ else and . . .’

  She turned away, her hand clutching the dented old plastic. ‘Oh, shit, Nick, does it never stop? That was the first drink I’ve had in months, months . . .’

  He opened the glove compartment and took out some peppermints. He unwrapped one and touched her lips. ‘Open your mouth.’ He popped in the mint and cuffed her chin lightly. ‘You stay put, I don’t want to miss out on this guy. Besides, he’s got a hundred bucks of our dough and,’ he tapped his pocket, ‘he’s gonna do some nasal damage in there with this gear. You okay if I leave you?’

  She nodded, her mouth bulging with the mint. ‘Yep, and I got Tiger. Go on, I’m fine.’

  Lorraine wasn’t. She couldn’t stop the tears as they welled up and spilled down, and she sucked hard on the big peppermint, angry with herself.

  ‘I lost it in there, Tiger,’ she whispered. It frightened her how quickly her confidence could be swiped from her, the realization that everything she was or thought she was could be so easily ripped apart. All it took was one drink and the craving was back.

  Nick was leaning against a wall where he could see the cordoned-off back yard. He waited for almost ten minutes. They had bouncers even out back with the trash cans as kids tried to get in that way. He was beginning to think they’d lost a hundred bucks when out came the waiter. He had a leather studded jacket slung over his shoulder and was wearing dark shades.

  ‘Gonna check out my wheels, be back in five,’ he called out to the bouncers.

  Nick remained half-hidden against the wall until the waiter was clear. He was very edgy as he joined Nick.

  ‘My bike’s parked upaways, you wanna walk with me?’

  ‘Sure, you got a name?’

  ‘Frankie. You got to be real careful, any one of us caught passin’ on anythin’ so much as a cigarette pack and we’re fucked. This is a big earner, man, I don’t wanna lose my job.’

  ‘I never seen you, it’s cool.’

  The waiter’s Harley had more bolts and alarms than a security firm. It was a highly polished, chrome on chrome custom shovel-head.

  ‘Nice bike.’

  ‘Yeah, the fuckin’ bastards use trucks now to lift them. I’ve only had it a few months.’

  ‘Like you said, you got yourself a nice earner and maybe you gonna earn even more. You got something forme?’

  ‘This is the chick that’s missin’ right? An’ I’m not gonna get involved with any cops, that’s got nothin’ to do with the action . . .’

  ‘I’m not a cop, for fuck’s sake. I’m gonna hit on her family for Tony, she owed him. I don’t give a shit about anythin’ else.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s sussed who she is, they got a lotta this kind of material, know what I mean?’

  ‘I’m trying to, I just wan
t to do the deal an’ get out of here.’

  Nick eased out the bag as a taster and Frankie flicked a furtive glance in both directions. He drew his jacket forward and exposed a newspaper with a brown manila envelope tucked inside.

  Nick gave Lorraine a wink as he got back into the jeep, starting it up straight away.

  ‘Let’s put some distance between me and my new pal Frankie.’

  He swerved into the traffic with a screech of his balding tyres and they headed down the strip. He eased the manila envelope out of his denim jacket.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Lorraine said, as she took out the photograph.

  ‘You said it, blew me away, part of a private collection they got up in the office. You were right, I was wrong.’

  Nick lived in a house similar to Rosie’s, but even more dilapidated. His apartment was a shambolic mess, the bed unmade and dirty dishes stacked in the sink. ‘Guess the place needs a woman’s touch. Problem is, although I get a lot of chicks up here, none of them stay long enough to hoover.’

  He wasn’t apologizing, he obviously didn’t care. Out of the corner of her eye Lorraine saw him open the fridge and take out a bottle of iced vodka. He took a small thick glass, filled it once, knocked it back and refilled it twice, each time downing the contents in one go and letting out a satisfied ‘Ahhhh’.

  Everything in her wanted to join him in the neat ice-cold vodka. Her body was shaking.

  ‘Nick . . .’ she said softly.

  ‘Yep? Coffee’s on, won’t be long.’ He came and stood above her and gently patted her head. It was a sweet, affectionate gesture, and she had to swallow hard because she felt herself wanting to weep. ‘How you doing?’

  ‘Okay.’

  It was hardly audible and he squatted down in front of her, resting on his old beat-up cowboy boots. ‘You want to talk?’

  Her voice was husky. ‘I want a drink, it’s all I can think about.’

  ‘S’okay, I can go over to the fridge and pour you one right now, but that would be dumb.’

  She bent her head. ‘Just gimme a drink, Nick.’

  He stood up, hands on his hips. ‘You want one, you get it! You get up off your ass and the bottle is there in the freezer compartment, go on.’