Eden St. Michel

by F. R. Jameson

  His eyes burnt into me a moment longer and then he stood himself straight again, uncurled his fists and managed a smile for her. The smile sat uneasy on his face. It wasn’t the normal easy charm he gave to the world – there was too much violence still lingering – but it was the best he was going to manage. The best he could do while still being so disgusted with me.

  Slowly, gently, he reached out to Eden’s hand and pried it away from her mouth. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, but she didn’t resist. She let him take her right hand and raise it to his lips. He pressed a kiss with more force than Barney would ever have dared earlier. In his fine black suit, he was almost like a big-screen ladies’ man.

  When he spoke, his voice even managed to regain its melodic charm. “I am so sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Miss St. Michel. I really am. I’ve been such a fan of yours ever since The Lions of Soho. You were so good in that film. So really good. Of course you weren’t like any actual gangster wife I’ve ever met, but that’s fine. We go to the cinema for escapism, rather than reality, after all.”

  With me slowly sitting up at her feet, she did her best to hold his gaze. “I’m glad you liked it,” she said finally.

  “As I say, I just wish we could have met under better circumstances. I wish we could have met before your boyfriend revealed himself to be such a clueless prick. I wish we could have met before your two names became the subject of such excited cop-shop chatter.”

  She stared suddenly down at me as I stared up at her, the panic reflected on both our faces.

  My gut still felt like a roof had caved in on it.

  “You know why we’re here?” I asked.

  Finally he allowed himself a glare down at me which didn’t seem like the opening act of a beating. “My contacts have passed on a few things. One of them said it might be that my old friend, Joe Jones, would come to see me for help. I told him there was no way he’d be that stupid.”

  The smile on his face was totally without amusement.

  “Please,” I said again, my hands raised in case he used that word as an invite to kick me. “We need your help. Both of us. You get to not only meet Eden, but you get to help her.”

  It took a moment, but he relaxed his shoulders, reached out his arm to hers and took her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Come, Miss St. Michel. We’ll have a drink and talk it over.”

  She nodded. “Okay,” she said, smart enough to not linger back and help me up.

  The fact that I was still able to pull myself to my feet suggested that the beating was over with for now.

  Listing an array of disparate celebrities who had already made the pilgrimage to his club – Frank Sinatra, Tony Hancock, Diana Christmas, Diana Dors, Orson Welles, Noel Coward, Judy Garland, James Mason, Sir Harold Hardicott, Laurence Harvey, Robert Mitchum – Luca led her to the bar and helped her up onto the high stool. Once again he took his place in the light behind the bar, but this time pulled down two large wine glasses. The bottle he opened was dusty and so probably very expensive. He poured them both a glass of red and clinked his to hers.

  As tentatively as I could, I pulled myself to my feet and staggered on wobbly legs over to them, dropping myself onto a slightly lower stool beside Eden’s.

  His hands placed flat to the bar, Luca stared at us both in turn. The gaze he gave her was much warmer than the one he gave me.

  Even though I knew that my reprieve might crash down at any moment, we couldn’t waste much more time. “Eden needs an alibi.”

  “Ah,” said Luca. “And there I was thinking it must be some kind of mistake. That the beautiful Eden St. Michel wouldn’t actually be involved in a violent death. That her cretin of a boyfriend wouldn’t be there as well.”

  “Can you do it?” I asked. “If you need to know all the ins and outs, then I can tell you, but I need to know from you that you can do it. Look, I’m really sorry about all that’s happened. Really sorry that I messed up and let you down, but now I need a favour like I have never needed one before.”

  His shoulders gave a nonchalant shrug. “An alibi, ay? I can do that. I can create an illusion. Give the impression that she was on my arm all night. Drum up witnesses who will swear under oath that that was the case. Photographic proof, if need be. I can make this evening a truly memorable one for a dozen people. All of them saying that there’s no way they could forget the incredible night they spent in the company of the simply dazzling Eden St. Michel.”

  No doubt it was his intention to make her blush, but she was still too pale for that.

  “But,” he continued, “that will be a huge favour from me to you. Another favour. And the fact is, you’re all fresh out of them, boy.”

  Though he was speaking to me, his eyes locked straight on hers, and he waited.

  The two of them stared at each other for a good half minute. Her gaze was still stunned, as if trying to piece together how her evening could ever have ended up like this. His was hungry and expectant.

  Finally, she realised what he wanted.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her eyebrows fluttering a little. “But could you please do this for me as a favour, Mr Llewelyn?”

  He grinned at her, not an easy smile to look at right then, one full of teeth and – in spite of itself – menace.

  “Would you describe yourself as desperate, Miss St. Michel?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Then I don’t see how I can’t help you. I long ago made a promise that I’d always help a lady in desperate straits. No matter what company she chose to keep.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Thank you, Luca!” I said.

  “Of course that means that you both now owe me favours.”

  “That’s fine. We understand that,” I said, having no idea whether I’d come to regret those words or not. “How quickly can you get started?”

  He smiled and smoothly raised his glass to his nose, before taking a gentle sip. Clearly he was on his way to becoming a connoisseur. His eyes appraised Eden the whole time. “If Miss St. Michel would like to get herself made up and change her frock – don’t worry, I’m sure I have some more glamorous garments in your size – then I think we can swiftly get together a group of people who will swear blind that you were with them between, I’m sorry, what time?”

  “I don’t know, I guess about eight to twelve,” I told him.

  “Eight to twelve it is. I’ll even get Greg along with his camera to preserve the moment for posterity. Before I make the calls, though, is there anyone else who saw you both tonight? Anyone likely to sink the lovely story I create?”

  We glanced at each other. “There was an old man we met in a run-down roadside café,” I told him.

  “He was nice, though,” she stuttered. “I wouldn’t want him hurt. He might not even realise it was me. I told him I was Kim Novak.”

  “He’ll work it out,” I assured her. “You’re much prettier than Kim Novak.”

  Luca grinned at us both. “Old man and run-down premises.” He sucked his cheeks in. “It just so happens that I’m looking for a new concern through which to filter some money. Maybe I’ll check this place out, put in an offer, suggest the old coot takes a long holiday. Don’t worry, he won’t be a problem.” Then he turned his attention to me, for the first time with something like softness in his gaze. “What about you, bach? What are you going to do?”

  Eden reached across and squeezed my hand tight. “Surely you can do the same for Joe, can’t you?” Those wide blue eyes stared imploringly at Luca. “You can do the same for both of us. If you can put me in the clear, you can put him in the clear too.”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “I don’t know. From what I’ve heard, your boyfriend is of particular interest.”

  “What exactly have you heard?” I asked.

  “That Miss St. Michel here had a meeting with this fat Yank film producer tonight, and that said film producer is now dead. They don’t think that a little lady like Miss St
. Michel could have done what was done to him, but are anxious to speak to her boyfriend, Mr Jones. Apparently he has a reputation for having a short fuse.”

  Her hand clutched mine so tight, her fingernails were nearly sinking into my skin.

  Luca continued. “So, you tell me, bach? How do you want to play it? If you think the water is muddier than P.C. Plod is suggesting, then I’m perfectly willing to muddy it further. But if doing that as another favour for the lovely lady is going to bring down all kinds of unwanted questions upon my head, then I’d rather…” He let the sentence trail away.

  With Eden staring at me so desperately, there was a part of me that was incredibly tempted to get Luca to do what he could do. To not worry about what we’d end up owing him, to happily spend the rest of my life paying off his debt if we had to. But I knew it wouldn’t work. I knew that even with Eden holding my hand and pulling me towards her, there was no way I could avoid it.

  “It will look fairly certain to the police,” I said finally.

  Luca nodded and then inched Eden’s glass closer to her, taking the opportunity to stroke the back of her left hand as he did. “Then it’s probably best for you to take your chances, bach.”

  “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “If there’s photos...”

  “Photos prove a certain amount,” he told her, “but it will still be a fake story. And fake stories have stress points, they have breaking points. It’s best not to test them too hard. Maybe you’ll be lucky and the beetles in blue will follow some other lead elsewhere. Or maybe they’ll look at the two of you with your story of a night at a Chelsea club run by a gentleman who already has a certain reputation with them, and they’ll think there’s something not quite right there. Or, alternatively, Joe turns himself in and they think they’ve got their man. Then they stop really caring what you’ve done tonight, Miss St. Michel, as they think they’ve got it all sewn shut.”

  Her face creased and she seemed to buckle at the middle. “I can’t,” she cried, “I can’t do this!”

  Gently I placed my hand to her cheek and turned her gaze towards me. “I love you, Eden,” I told her. “And that’s why I have to do this.”

  Her eyes were fierce and hurt at this terrible hand we’d been dealt. “I love you too and that’s why I don’t want to lose you.”

  Ignoring Luca, we clutched each other tight. Her mouth nuzzled against my neck. I could smell the strawberry shampoo she used on her hair.

  “You don’t have to be my hero again,” she whispered. “You really don’t have to do this.”

  “If I don’t do this, I don’t know what will happen to you.”

  “I don’t care what happens to me,” she said. “If I can’t be with you, then I honestly don’t care!”

  “Of course you do.” I pulled back and leant my forehead against hers. “You have this great life, you should go on and live it. Enjoy yourself. That’s all I ask.”

  “How can I possibly enjoy myself if I’m not with you?”

  “I won’t be gone long.”

  Her hands moving to my shoulders, she pulled back and stared at me with her blue eyes furious. “They could hang you for this, Joe! Don’t you understand that? They could actually string you up!”

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that.” I told myself as well as her. “There are no witnesses or anything. They don’t have a clue what happened. If worst came to the worst, maybe I’d just get manslaughter.”

  “And what’s that?” she asked. “How long are you going to be away from me if you get manslaughter?”

  Not wanting to tear myself from the depths of her eyes, I still managed a glance at Luca.

  “Five,” he said, his voice sounding more distant than just the other side of the bar. “With the right brief, he can probably be out in five.”

  “Five?” she cried. “Five is an eternity!”

  “It’s all we have,” I told her. “The other option is they arrest us both, they look at what we were both up to this evening.” My thumbs gently wiped away the trails of tears on her cheeks. “It’s the only way.”

  Again we clutched hold of each other. This time she leant her head on my shoulder. “You’re an absolute fool, Joe Jones, you know that? There must be another way, but you won’t bother looking for it as you’re too wrapped up in being my hero.”

  “I have to be a hero for you.” I could feel the tears on my cheeks now. “But there is no other way. I have to do this.”

  “There must be another way,” she murmured.

  “The body has been found, the clock is ticking – can you think of one?”

  We squeezed each other tight. With her trembling in my arms, I’d have given anything for a fresh, brilliant idea to pop into my head. For her to suddenly voice some inspired thought. Even for Luca, who was watching us with a little smile at the corner of his lips, to suddenly suggest some way he could save us both. I wouldn’t care how many favours I owed him. Whatever I needed to do, I’d have done.

  But there was no other way. We clung to each other desperately but there was nothing we could say and nothing we could do that would stop the reality that I was going to have to hand myself in.

  Slowly, gently, I pulled myself back. Eden reached out her hands for me, but then clenched her fingers uselessly in front of her. Her eyes were glittering pools of water in the half-light of Luca’s club.

  We were where we were and there was nothing else we could do.

  Knowing I’d never be able to manage it, I still tried a smile. “You’ve got to go and make yourself glamorous,” I told her. “You’ve got to be ready to flash your million-pound grin at the camera.”

  As she shook her head, her chin dropped to her chest. “I can’t!” she cried. “I just can’t!”

  “Yeah, you can. Just think of me. Do what you have to for me.”

  “But I’m not saving you, am I?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll feel better about myself if I’ve managed to save you.”

  There was maybe a slight nod to her head, then she rocked herself back on the stool and straightened her shoulders. Her hand raised a bar napkin to her eyes and expertly dabbed at her badly run mascara.

  “You know I hate you as well as love you, don’t you?” she said.

  It was my turn to nod. “I know, and you know I love you with all my heart.”

  “You’re an idiot!” she snapped. “An absolute, pride-filled, stubborn idiot!”

  Like I was a chivalrous knight from a child’s story book, I leant in and kissed her softly and delicately on her lips. Her hands reached up and moved through my hair one more time and then she let go.

  When I’d sat down, my legs were wobbling because of the blow Luca had landed. Now they were shaky for all kinds of other reasons. I smiled once to Luca, who gave me a half grin back, stroked the edge of my hand down Eden’s cheek and walked away from them both.

  I didn’t look back once. I knew I absolutely wouldn’t get anywhere if I looked back. Eyes fixed on the path ahead, I marched into the darkness to find a police officer.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  And so began my time at Her Majesty’s pleasure.

  They weren’t easy on me, not even close. Right from the moment I first tapped a policeman’s shoulder on the King’s Road, I was pinned down and yelled at and slapped around. Even before they asked any questions, they made sure they had their brutal idea of fun. In a small interview room at Marylebone Police Station, it was me, a pig-eyed sergeant and a lanky detective with a lopsided face. A more obvious pair of bruisers it would be hard to imagine. No spiteful tough guy in a film had anything on the two of them. As an opener to my interview, both my eyes were blackened, my lip was split and I think the bastards broke a rib. Not that any doctor was ever going to come in to confirm that, though.

  They told me they had me bang to rights. Arms crossed, nasty little smiles on their faces, they assured me they already had everything they needed and if I knew what was good for me I’d spill all the details. Bu
t I didn’t spill. It turned out that Eden was right: I was a stubborn idiot and once I’d made up my mind to give them nothing, I gave them nothing.

  When I was wandering around in the dark trying to find a policeman, I did think a lot about what I was going to say to him. Whether I could own up at the outset that it was an unfortunate accident and, I’m really sorry, but I panicked and ran away; or whether it was best to just stay quiet and chance it. As long as Eden was safe, I could try my luck. They couldn’t know for certain whether I’d gone there; there were no witnesses; how were they going to prove it?

  Keeping shtum, though, was the risky option. The safe one would be to aim for manslaughter, do what I could to be a model prisoner and get out as fast as I could. But giving them nothing – just claiming that I was drunk and had no idea where I was, only that I was nowhere near Richmond – was going to be tough. When I tapped that copper’s shoulder, I still had no idea what I was going to do. Half an hour later, as I nursed the first of my wounds, I knew that, risky as it was, I wasn’t going to give them a thing.

  “I don’t know,” I told them. “I spent most of the day drunk.”

  “Where?”

  “Around.”

  “Where, you piece of filth?”

  “Just around. Boozers here and there. I had a lot.”

  Beyond that I just gave them just shrugs and vague grunts. Trying to claim it had been an accident clearly wasn’t going to work with those two. They made it obvious right from the start that they saw me as a cold-blooded murderer. A bloke with a violent history who had finally had something big inside him snap. And now poor Boris Wachtel was paying the consequence.

  Only, as they saw it, I was going to pay the consequence, too. Pay for it at the end of a rope.

  The first couple of days they held me, I stayed quiet. Then my solicitor informed me that they’d eliminated Eden from their enquiries, and they weren’t going to look for anyone other than me.

  It was then I raised my voice and started to yell I was innocent. That this was a set-up and I was a wronged man.