She choked back a sob. Tori stopped fighting to get past me, seeing her pain as clearly as I did. She dropped the cricket bat and fell to her knees, crying, in a puddle.
I handed Tori the car keys.
“Go and get the Porsche unlocked and the heater on.”
I gave her the knife, too. It was a kitchen knife, one of a set. She looked at the thing in my hand as if it might bite her.
“Take it. If you dump it with my blood and your fingerprints all over it, the police will be knocking on your door tomorrow asking you who you killed.”
She shuddered, accepted it, took a look over her shoulder at the weeping woman, then back at my hand. I fished out a handkerchief and bound it while she watched.
“I’ll live.”
She didn’t seem convinced but she went. The cut didn’t feel deep. I hadn’t time to find out. I slopped over to the sobbing would-be-attacker and squatted beside her. “I’d loan you a handkerchief, but I’m afraid mine’s otherwise engaged.”
Sniffling, she looked up.
“Could we discuss this in my car? Catching pneumonia would be letting him win, don’t you think?”
I stood and offered her my good hand. She looked at it, swallowed hard, accepted it and allowed me to pull her to her feet. She wasn’t dressed for the cold. The thin coat was wet through, her skirt plastered to the back of her soaked stockings. She shivered as a gust of wind threw rain into our faces with a vengeance.
She took one look at the cricket bat and left it, allowing me to lead her out of the alleyway towards the parking lot.
She seemed dazed, as if just waking from a bad dream. What she didn’t look like was a woman who had raped another woman. I felt sorry for her. She was as much a victim as Tori. I didn’t believe she was responsible, for either the rape or her actions.
When we reached the car Tori was sitting in the passenger seat, legs curled under her. Her eyes bore dark circles that might have been mascara. She’d been crying. The knife was on the dashboard. Cleaned. The evidence was sticking out of my ashtray.
I took back the keys and popped the boot. Sharon stood passively while I stripped her out of her skirt, stockings and wet coat and wrapped her in the duvet that, along with the clothes, formed part of my surveillance gear. Then I installed her in the back of the car, took off the sodden suit jacket and climbed in the driver’s side.
With the doors closed, the heater on full, the windows steamed and covered in rain, the three of us were isolated, in our own world. Not an ideal place to have this conversation, but I couldn’t think of anywhere that would be. Tori and the woman were looking warily at one another, neither willing to start. It was up to me to get the ball rolling.
“I’m going to rehash some history, then we’ll all know where we stand. Not long ago my business partner and friend, Dean, invited me and my girlfriend, Tori –” I nodded at her but my eyes stayed on Sharon “– to a dinner party with his friend, Greg, and his wife. You, Sharon. Dean didn’t know Tori was an exotic dancer. None of us were aware your husband had been slipping off to the Bird of Paradise, where she worked, without your knowledge. That he was one of her most frequent customers in the private dance booths.”
The way I’d presented the facts was making an impression.
“When Tori ribbed him about it, Dean was shocked to discover what my girlfriend did for a living. You were shocked to find out where your husband had been going those nights when he said he was working late. Tori was shocked to find out that you didn’t know what he’d been doing.”
I paused to let that sink in. Now for a little subterfuge. “She thought you knew. Plenty of wives do. She wasn’t trying to show you up in company, Sharon. She doesn’t do dishonesty. Or cruelty. To Tori, what she does fills a niche, helps marriages, doesn’t destroy them.”
I sighed.
“We were saddened to hear that you hadn’t been able to reconcile your differences and divorce proceedings had started, but we understood. He couldn’t be trusted. He’d lied to you. We didn’t hear about this until later. Dean blamed me for not telling him about Tori’s job. Which caused a rift between us. In the meantime Tori was raped.”
Tori shivered and looked at her hands. The woman gasped. Started to reach towards her. Not the reaction of a rapist. Tori looked into her eyes and saw that too. She turned to me in confusion. I hurried on. “We think her rapist was another woman. A woman who used foreign objects to violate her. A woman who wore Lou Lou perfume. The perfume you wore to the dinner party.”
“No!”
It was the first thing she’d said. The word, like her expression, proclaimed her innocence. In the light of what I’d witnessed, she would have to do better than that. Clearly she thought so too.
“I can see why you thought it was me. After what I’ve done. But it wasn’t! I am guilty of attacking your girlfriend tonight. Stalking other girls from the club. Posting dog mess through one’s door. Following another home. Vandalising their places when I could get in. It wasn’t fair – they used their beauty to snare men and lure them away from their wives. I’m not pretty, I never will be. I thought if I took away their security, made them suffer like other women, it would stop. They’d leave. Get other jobs. Our men would stop coming and see we’re all the same. A bit of love and affection would make their wives blossom. I haven’t…” She swallowed and rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t been thinking too clearly lately.”
“Attacking temptation isn’t enough,” Tori said, softly. “You have to make yourself over in the likeness of the temptation. If that doesn’t work you have to move on.”
The two women looked at one another. I wondered whether I should get out and let them thrash out their differences or cement an alliance. Tori broke eye contact and turned to me.
“You should get your hand seen to. Why don’t we go to my place?”
Then she turned to the woman again. You’ve been forced to leave your home since you attacked your husband and he took out the restraining order. I’ve a comfortable sofa, if you’d like a place to stay the night?”
Tori wound the crepe bandage round my hand and tied it off. “How’s that?”
I flexed my fingers. “Good.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“So am I.I thought I’d wrapped the whole thing up.”
She took my face in her hands. “You’ve found Sammi’s rapist. Discovered who’s been harassing the other girls. And got cut up. Again. Isn’t that enough for one night?”
“I wanted to deliver your attacker before you left. I wanted you to know whatever happens next I will always think about you, worry about you, love y…”
She clamped her mouth over mine.
“I know,” she told me when we came up for air.
“Are you sure about her sleeping in there? I mean we don’t know for certain that she…
“I do. It wasn’t her, Randall. She was wearing it again tonight, the perfume. It’s not the same. Whoever it was, their body chemistry made it smell sweet. Lou Lou doesn’t smell like that on Sharon. Besides, Sharon’s straight. She wouldn’t have the first clue about what to do with a dildo. Whoever raped me knew exactly what they were doing, and came prepared. Trust me, we’re perfectly safe. You won’t need to spend the night on a kitchen chair. Not that I’d let you.”
She slid her hand inside my open shirt and down. I glanced at the locked door and our impromptu guest. She gripped my chin and twisted it back to face her.
“Forget about her. Your only thoughts should be giving me something to remember you by, as quietly as possible.”
“You’re the one who makes all the noise!”
“We’ll see about that…”
13
“…It was the strangest thing. The following night, Tori took her in, introduced her to the other women, let her tell her story and apologise. And they forgave her! They were crying over her! I got pushed out of the dressing room.”
“Honorary man?”
“Yeah. She stayed the res
t of the night, watched what went on at the club. Then went home with Sammi!”
“Well,” Dean mused, “I suppose if anyone knows what a straight woman wants it would be someone who’d been a man. Though I use the word ‘straight’ very liberally in this case. Is she still at home with Sammi?”
“Far as I know.”
“Another convert.”
“Looks that way.”
I dug in my pocket and handed over a pile of cash with a receipt.
“What’s this? Not that I’m not happy you’re giving me money, Randall!”
“Severance payment from satisfied customers for services rendered.”
He began separating bills like with like, and flipped open the drawer that contained his favourite toy: an electric banknote counter, the sort you see drug lords and money launderers using in hip crime movies. He set it on the desk and powered it up.
“Is there enough, do you think?”
“Since we’re doing the ladies a discount, there will probably be some change.”
I flexed my hand.
“You should let Craig look at that. You should have come round.”
“It’s OK. I didn’t want to wear out my welcome. It was very late.”
Dean looked at me. I turned away.
“She’s gone, hasn’t she?”
“This morning.”
“I’m sorry, Randall.”
“Thanks.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced back tears. “I keep wondering if Craig was right. If we’d been living together, would she have considered Stringfellow’s offer? Would she have gone?”
“You’d both have been unhappy and broken up not long after in angry recriminations. It would have been ‘you only stayed with me out of pity’ versus ‘you held me back when I could have been somebody.’ You wouldn’t have been comfortable with the compromise. You’re not cut out to live with someone, even if you’re sharing your life with them. No matter what Craig says! I saw how antsy you were during the days she was staying with you, while she was recovering and we were fixing up her place. And I know you. You did the right thing.”
“If you love somebody set them free?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does it hurt so much?”
I threw myself into work. By night I spelled Dean on a surveillance he was running at a big computer place on an industrial estate. It had been burgled three times in the last month.
Surveillance is one of the most boring, uncomfortable jobs on the planet. This one was at the South Shore end of Blackpool, near the airport. Aside from hangars, the terminal and warehouses that make up the estate, there are were no other buildings. Dean and I were forced to camp out in parked maintenance trucks or squat behind the dark corners of the warehouses.
Weren’t the buildings covered by CCTV? Yes, they were. The thieves had found a way to avoid the cameras, or hack into them and persuade them they hadn’t seen anything. We had to wait around turning into ice cubes for the villains to arrive. Catch them in the act.
It was autumn. October. Cold or wet by turns. At the end of the first hour I was aching and miserable. More stretched ahead to contemplate all the things wrong with my life.
We were no closer to finding out who raped Tori. At least one woman was capable of raping and maybe killing, if Lisa’s murderer and Tori’s attacker were the same person. That and Sammi’s rape were the most important unresolved things in my life. Even with Tori gone I couldn’t let it go. I’d made promises. I always keep my promises.
Time to look at the suspects.
Tori’s certainty aside, Sharon stayed on the list. The perfume was right, she had means, motive and opportunity. And she had no alibi for the time of Tori’s rape.
Then there was Grey. If he was capable of one rape, might he not be capable of another? And since Grey was in with the Chief Super, who better to know how to throw investigators off the scent (literally!) or create a false trail altogether?
Which brought me to another point. In spite of the news report trumpeting Lisa’s murder, there had been a distinct lack of action in investigating the crime. No suspect in custody, no arrests pending. Couldn’t this, too, point at police involvement? A cover-up. Or an attempt to sweep an unfortunate mess under the carpet for someone well connected?
If Grey wasn’t responsible for either the murder or Tori’s rape, shouldn’t I be looking elsewhere? At someone who was a constant visitor to the Bird of Paradise? Someone whose private dance with my girlfriend had had decidedly sinister connotations?
The coroner’s time of death was too vague to pin anyone down for Lisa’s murder. I had no way of knowing where he been at the time of Tori’s rape, and it certainly looked as if he was guilty of covering up Sammi’s rape. What more was the Scottish git responsible for?
Our investigations into the girls and the bouncers had been fruitless. None of the girls had motive or opportunity. Villiers was the only man with a criminal record, and he had an alibi for the time of Tori’s rape. He’d also had no motive for revenge until I came along.
Likewise the patrons, both male and female. Greg and Sharon had their own agenda, and all the recent disturbances we knew of had been handled on the premises. There were visitors to the club and tourist members, but we had no hope of tracing them and they were a long shot anyway.
We had only three real suspects and no proof. Try as I might, I couldn’t gather enough evidence to put all the pieces together and make a whole – though I couldn’t escape the feeling I was overlooking something. Pondering on the problem took my mind off the cold and the boredom of the surveillance. Two hours and incipient frostbite later, I still hadn’t a candidate.
I left without spotting any burglars, but with numb toes and a sense of frustration.
I came home in the morning to find my building up for sale.
This was the first I’d heard! Hammering on the owner’s door produced no response.
“He isn’t home. He moved while decorators overhaul it. He’s hoping for a quick sale.”
I looked up to find my other neighbour, Ashley Hayes, sitting on the stairs.
“When did this happen?”
“Couple of days ago. I left a message on your machine.”
“I’ve been keeping pretty irregular hours, I haven’t had time to pick everything up.”
I’d been working so hard, out so much, that when I got home all I could do was fall into bed. I had text, ansaphone messages and e-mails from Tori in the first few days. Which made it feel like she was still down the road. Since then, just as it had been when she was here, we were working such contradictory hours we couldn’t hook up. Now I tended to skim through the other stuff to find hers.
“What brought this on?”
“Property market boom. He thinks he can sell the building with tenants. I don’t know if the new owner will let us stay when our contract expires. Mine’s the end of next month.”
Mine was the month after next.
What was I going to do? The rent was high, but a good deal compared to other places.
“I’ve been looking at my finances to see if I could afford to buy him out. These days I’m just a student. I couldn’t do it alone. I have savings. With a partner or as a co-op I could.”
He gazed at me with puppy-dog hopefulness. I was sure he’d melted plenty of ladies’ hearts with that trick. He didn’t have the right plumbing to interest me so it didn’t work.
“I have some pretty heavy financial commitments, Ash.”
“Don’t we all? But if we can generate the capital, the mortgage can’t come to more than we’re already paying in rent. We’d own the place then. It wouldn’t be dead money.”
It was tempting. But I couldn’t think where I was going to find the money for a down payment – nor anyone who’d offer me a mortgage considering what I did. It was bad enough getting the loan to buy into the business with Dean. And life insurance? Forget it!
I accepted his offer of a non-alcoholic drink. (Does everyb
ody know I’m on the wagon?) And since Cecily was out, I went up to his flat to talk some more, in spite of my misgivings. Mainly because I couldn’t see any alternative. Partly because he was so enthusiastic and hopeful, I didn’t immediately want to dash his hopes. Also I admit because I was curious.
As we talked I began to see why Cecily liked him. He was warm, friendly, easy to chat with and though he was six feet tall and bodybuilder broad, he didn’t crowd you with his physical bigness. He was so pretty that if I hadn’t known better, I’d have said he was gay. The guy could charm birds out of trees. He’d make a great brief.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how the hell did you end up with Cecily?” (OK, it was rude, but I had to satisfy my curiosity.)
He laughed. “I don’t mind. I always hoped we’d get around to talking about this one day. I know you were together. She still misses you. Some days you’re all she talks about.”
My skin crawled. Ever wish you hadn’t asked something?
“You were the main reason I moved here. I wanted to take a look at the competition!”
Fuck! More shades of Basic Instinct. “And now you have?”
“I like you. I don’t feel threatened. What you had with Cecily is different from what she has with me. I think you did the right thing, breaking it off. Cess can be obsessive. You and Tori look good together. I think Cess has a healthier sex life with me, no offence intended.”
“None taken.” Though now of course I wondered what Ash considered a healthy sex life. Ruthlessly I thrust those thoughts out of my head. I wasn’t going to ask! He’d get the wrong idea. He was already flirting with me – perhaps unconsciously, perhaps by design. Maybe he thought my sexuality was as fluid as hers? I’d have to nip that in the bud.
“But you asked me how I ended up with her. It’s pretty cliché, I suppose. Eager student; sexy, successful tutor. We were both adults. So…”
If things between him and Cecily were as rosy as she painted it, why wasn’t he living with her? I didn’t have to ask.
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