Splintered

by Laura J Harris

  ‘Oh, Guv’!’ Davies shouted just as they had just rounded the corner. Prior popped his head and shoulders back into view. ‘I need to speak to you . . . in a bit. It’s kind of important.’

  ‘Okay.’ Prior said dubiously, ‘Do you want to tell me now?’

  Davies shook his head. ‘No.’ he said quickly, ‘No, sir. In a bit. When you’ve spoken to Shona.’

  Prior nodded and watched Davies return to the office before following the path Christine had cut across the open room.

  ‘What was that about?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’ he said, honestly.

  He didn’t like not knowing.

  12:04

  Sunday 15th May, 2011

  Kelly had managed to knock herself clean out for a good fifteen minutes.

  She had been lying in the long, slim bathtub at an odd angle when she had finally come to and discovered the pillow shoved awkwardly under her neck and a blanket thrown over her damp body.

  Shona told her that she had considered moving her, but didn’t know whether that would do more harm than good and so she had simply tried to keep her warm and comfortable instead.

  Kelly had thanked her, though her head pounded furiously and the crick in her neck that had developed over the fifteen minutes was ridiculously painful.

  Still, a couple of ibuprofen later and an intensely sensual neck and shoulder massage — which quickly developed into a full-body massage — at the tender and experienced hands of the deliciously surreptitious Shona made it seem almost worthwhile in the end!

  Shona had kneaded and gently pounded the knots from Kelly’s aching muscles, working small circles with her thumbs up and down the length of Kelly’s taut calves and thighs.

  Kelly remembered nothing from before the fall and had apologised in soft moans as Shona had continued with the circles up and across her lower back, skilfully avoiding the bruises that already covered most of Kelly’s lumbar region.

  ‘I’m not normally this . . . clumsy.’

  ‘I like you this way.’ Shona said, kneeling before Kelly as her head bobbed over the foot of the bed. ‘Don’t ever change.’

  Kelly laughed, ‘You hardly know me.’

  Shona cocked her head at the statement, smiling, ‘And still, you’re in my bed for the second time in so many hours.’

  ‘Technically, I’m on your bed.’

  ‘Technically, you’re wearing a lot less then you were the first time.’

  Kelly nodded, conceding the point.

  Earlier she had worn only the over-sized t-shirt that had once belonged to an ex-boyfriend of the olive-skinned, aphrodisiac woman who — she was so glad — had now decided to play on her team.

  A cold chill ran suddenly over Kelly’s naked body as an important question perforated her thoughts; What if she’s still trying to choose a team?

  That would put the pressure on.

  Not that she was worried at all.

  But there was no way she was going to allow this wonderfully seductive and seriously sexy woman to slip through the net! No, she was as resolute as though she had been charged by Sappho herself!

  A wide smile drew across Kelly’s lips as a flurry of images rolled out across the plains of her mind. All were at odds with the traditional aphorism ‘Lie back and think of England’ and yet there was something strangely seductive, if not preposterously imperial in the idea of the ancient Sappho calling her to arms to do her duty.

  For Sappho, and Lesbians everywhere!

  She laughed and Shona looked at her quizzically, making Kelly realise that she had been lost in thoughts of conquest and liberation for several moments.

  Propping herself up on her elbows, Kelly leaned forward, contemplating her next move. A Chess Master studying the board. ‘Technically,’ she said, ‘You’re right, but — ’

  ‘Fuck technically.’ Shona interrupted, taking Kelly’s face in her hands and kissing her fiercely. Eventually she broke off and held her gaze for a moment before continuing, ‘I know what I want. And I think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well in the last few days, Kelly Livingstone. So, whatever else may come, I welcome it with open arms. But you really are fit as! Cuts and bruises and all. And I think we’ve done enough talking for now, don’t you?’

  Well, if there had have been a ball, which had at that moment been in Shona’s court, the dexterous dancer would — in Kelly’s mind — have just slam-dunked her way into the finals.

  Before she could react or think or try and even muster some kind of witty reply, Shona had flipped Kelly onto her back and was now perched on top of the injured artist, staring down into her ocean-blue eyes.

  With her luscious and lengthy legs comfortably straddling Kelly’s naked frame, the dancer eased back to sit, resting her slight weight against Kelly’s pubic bone.

  Kelly sucked in an excited breath, feeling suddenly dizzy and overwhelmed.

  Smooth, mocha calves grazed against her own lightly-tanned and freckled thighs, sending shivers up and down her spine, causing her heart to race and the fine hairs on her arms to prick up instantly; goose bumps all over her body.

  Oh, Shona was no mere supporter.

  No bystander or cheerleader.

  Though that particular image — the vividly alluring idea of it, pompoms and all! — made Kelly’s heart skip quite suddenly and she gasped a little, drawing a smile of quiet confidence and delight from Shona.

  She was clearly an active and practised player, this woman. Well accustomed to and more than comfortable with a female form that was not her own. Her wandering hands had already revealed that much!

  Shona’s tongue flicked out, the tip of it touching the bow of her upper lip as she brushed an unruly lock of ink-black hair back from Kelly’s face, tucking it behind her ear. Kelly pulled up to engage those sensual, teasing lips, catching Shona by the chin and locking target. Kissing her hungrily only to be pressed back down onto the bed.

  Her own hands now worked their way up Shona’s firm thighs, squeezing and massaging and drawing soft, but gratifying sighs from the dancer even as their tongues continued to explore and devour one another.

  Shona clearly enjoyed the idea of being in control and caught hold of Kelly’s wrists, pinning them up behind her head so that when she eventually broke off the kiss, Kelly found herself completely immobilised. At Shona’s mercy.

  She smiled.

  ‘I didn’t expect you to be so . . . dominating.’

  ‘Really?’ Shona said, her eyebrow arching as she tightened her grip with her left hand, leaving her right free to roam.

  No, not really! Kelly thought as Shona’s fingers began tracing circles — yet more delightful circles and swirls — across her chest.

  ‘I think most people would say I’m . . . driven. If not a little bossy.’

  This didn’t surprise Kelly at all.

  You didn’t get to be the lead in anything in this life on pure talent alone. You had to push. But she played along, enjoying the soft press of Shona’s bare flesh against her own.

  ‘No. You?’ she said playfully, wanting more of that flesh.

  Realising that Kelly was winding her like a clockwork mouse, and longing to be the cat once more, Shona pounced.

  Laughing, she slapped her hand across Kelly’s bare ribs in mocking admonition before falling on her once more, kissing her with a renewed fervour as her free hand began moving steadily south. With purpose.

  Kelly’s back arched in delight.

  Sappho would be proud.

  12:29

  Sunday 15th May, 2011

  Coming face to face with yet another set of stairs, Christine rested her hand on the railing and paused for a moment. Bending slightly at the waist she took in a long, deep breath and exhaled.

  The pain in her knee was so much worse today than it had been in a long while. It was physically exhausting.

  She pushed out another slow breath through pursed lips before sucking in another lungful of air, feeling a little light-headed now,
but better for it.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Prior asked.

  She could tell that he had been keen to ask her that same question for some time now. But he had pressed his lips tight shut each time and she had noticed just how much the muscles around his jaw — not to mention those in his neck and shoulders — contracted when this happened.

  She smiled and this time did not dismiss him or brush him off with her standard answer of I’m fine. Always a lie.

  ‘I’m just a little sore this morning.’ she said.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  She looked at him properly for the first time since their discussion in the canteen that morning. She had been too blinded by anger, too defensive earlier to notice how tired he was looking. It wasn’t a rough and rugged tiredness that dominated his superbly carved countenance, though it was clear he had cut shaving out of his routine this morning.

  No, it was something else. Something like sorrow. And battened-down despair.

  Her heart felt suddenly heavy looking at him. To see such sadness bottled up in such a seemingly strong, but fragile oak of a man like him was really quite devastating.

  ‘Do you mind if we stop for a moment?’ she said.

  Prior gave a small nod. His splendid green eyes were now red around the edges and shimmering as much with fatigue as with the effort it took to restrain the medley of emotions that he was trying to hide from her and all the world.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ he asked, offering his arm to Christine as she lowered herself to sit on the top step.

  She shook her head, tucking her hand into the pocket of her chocolate, linen kick-flair trousers. ‘I’ll take one of these and I’ll be fine in a few minutes.’

  She popped a mustard coloured tablet from the blister-pack strip that Dr Matthews had given her the day before and swallowed it without a fuss; managing to hide her revulsion through mere anticipation of the taste.

  Prior shuddered.

  ‘I don’t know how you can do that.’ he said, ‘I have to have at least half a pint of water whenever I take a tablet.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. I’m terrible.’ he said, settling down next to her. ‘I blame my mum. She made swallow a paracetemol once, when I was little. I had some apple juice and tried to use it to wash the tablet down, but . . . d’you know when it gets stuck on the back of your tongue. Eugh!’

  He shuddered a second time. This one more forceful than the last, rippling through his body from his toes up.

  Christine smiled, ‘There’s nothing worse is there?’

  ‘I now can’t stand apple juice either!’

  ‘Oh, she really tortured you. Didn’t she?’

  ‘Traumatic is what it was! Though Barnardo’s didn’t seem to think so.’

  The pair of them laughed a little and smiled and it felt to Christine like they were beginning to regain some of the ground that had shattered beneath them earlier.

  She cleared her throat as the laughter subsided.

  A small group of passengers — young women and men in their mid twenties — approached and passed them, pulling into an efficient single file on the stairs as they did. Prior turned his head, watching them amble along the corridor that he and Christine had just come down.

  Christine watched him.

  ‘You’re a good man, Jonathan Prior. A very good man.’ she said her eyes becoming ever so slightly glassy, ‘And I shouldn’t have bitten your head off earlier. You were just doing your job.’

  ‘And so were you.’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. It was thoughtless . . . careless of me. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned Kelly either, but — ’

  ‘No, you were right.’ she said, pulling a loose thread from her long-sleeved, lime, cotton shirt and balling it between her finger and thumb, ‘Those paintings were disturbingly accurate and heavily stylised. It did look like Kelly’s work.’

  Prior said nothing and Christine was thankful for his silence. His patience.

  ‘I know that only by questioning her could you eliminate her as a suspect, but,’ she paused, drawing in a great breath as if trying to gather some strength from the stale air that filled the wide, but muggy corridor, ‘I think I was a little blinded by my emotions.’

  He gave a slow, single nod, but remained silent. Not unlike a confessional priest.

  ‘But, I’m not trying to replace Janet.’ she said, smiling, ‘I’m not trying to save Kelly, because I couldn’t save my sister. That’s not what this is about.’

  ‘So, what is it about?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sure it will come as no great surprise to hear that I have apparently developed some . . . unresolved feelings towards Kelly. It seems like everyone else realised before I did, really. And, I have to admit, it’s come as quite a surprise.’

  ‘I might have picked up on something between you . . . But, actually . . . no. I don’t think I noticed at all.’ Prior said, smiling.

  Christine returned the smile. ‘No? Well, Dr Matthews made some scathing remark when I asked about Kelly last night. You know, when she’d had her moved.’ Prior nodded. And waited. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really know what it is that I feel anymore. But I do know that I can’t stop thinking about her. Is that stupid? It’s stupid, isn’t it?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’ Prior said, ‘That’s how I . . . that’s how it was with Rachel. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Whether I was on duty, in the gym or lapping the pool, she was never far from any other thought. Still isn’t.’ He coughed and shifted his weight, ‘But no, it’s not stupid.’

  ‘It is a little silly when the object of your affections doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.’

  ‘And you think she doesn’t?’

  ‘Well, I thought she might have. But perhaps I read it all wrong. You know, seeing signs that weren’t really there, like Marc said.’

  ‘Miss Livingstone does seem to have a certain charm about her. The type of person who could make you believe she’s interested . . . even if she wasn’t.’

  Christine found herself nodding emphatically. She felt slightly ridiculous, but couldn’t stop bobbing her head. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But, then again, you know . . . you met with her for breakfast and dinner — ’

  ‘We never got to dinner. That was when I found her in her room.’ she said, rubbing her knee absently, ‘That’s probably why I’m such a wreck today. Dragging her halfway across this bloody ship!’ The full-weight of her subtle accent compressed into the last three syllables as she laughed to herself.

  ‘She’s owes a lot to you, Christine.’

  ‘She doesn’t even know it was me. Thinks the first I knew about it was when we saw her this morning. She was so wrapped in that other girl. Shona. I mean, how do I try and compete with her? There’s no way.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Prior said, turning towards her and taking her hand in his, ‘And don’t be comparing yourself to people like Shona. There’s a world of difference between the two of you.’

  ‘Aye, that’s the problem.’ she smiled.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  A moment of silence followed. But it was a comfortable and thought-collecting silence during which Christine eventually became aware of Prior watching her; searching her.

  Meeting his gaze, she nodded.

  ‘Shall we make a move, then?’ he asked.

  ‘Why not.’ she said, allowing him to help her up. ‘So, have you given anymore thought to your hunch? Any ideas?’

  Prior raised an eyebrow at her as they began descending the stairs. ‘Yes and no. That name, Copina, it struck a chord that I couldn’t quite place. But it was the murders themselves that finally jogged my memory.’ he paused, allowing Christine to steady herself at the foot of the stairs before they continued. ‘I worked with the National Crime Squad for a bit. Back when you actually got involved. Before they merged it with all those other organisations and moulded and mangled it into some sort of public-owned, targ
et-driven agency that’s flooded with managers and accountants and more paper work than . . .’ he paused and looked at Christine, who smiled sweetly back.

  ‘I understand.’ she said.

  ‘I don’t mean to rant.’

  ‘Everyone’s allowed to rant sometimes. I mean, I’ve just sat and winged to you about the confusingly strong feelings I have for another woman. So, I’d say we’re good.’

  Prior chuckled heartily and threw a cheeky glance at her as he continued. ‘Well, during my time with the NCS I was involved in an on-going investigation which finally came to a head back in ninety-nine. It wasn’t pretty. That’s when I got my scar.’ he said, drifting for an instant, before snapping back to the here and now.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, don’t worry’ he said, throwing his guard back up again, ‘part of the job isn’t it.’

  Christine didn’t believe that at all and had the feeling that Prior didn’t believe it either, but remained quiet for the moment, making a mental note to revisit the issue with him at a later date.

  ‘There were several gangs involved and it was big. Drugs, human trafficking, money laundering, smuggling. You name it, they were doing it.’ He stopped Christine in her tracks, ‘One of the guys involved was a Copina. Now, I can’t say for sure that it was Michael Copina, but it might have been a relative or something. I mean it’s not like it’s the most common of names. Especially not ‘round Merseyside.’

  Christine nodded. ‘It could just be coincidence.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Prior said, much to her surprise. ‘It could. But, this fella — this Copina — he was the go-between for some local mobsters of the time. There was one gang in particular, a real family affair, fancied themselves as the new Krays. He worked for them a lot.’

  ‘And was he a local lad?’

  Prior shook his head. ‘No. I don’t quite know where he was from originally. He had a bit of an odd accent. There were enough incidentals in his pattern of speech to indicate that he’d spent a good few years in and around Liverpool. But, he was definitely an outsider. I think, in the end, he was starting to feel that way too. The last time I saw him alive he was really freaking out. He said the family knew he’d been picked up by us on a few occasions and that that had put him on The Scalpel’s watch list.’