Femme Fatale
Page 44
‘It’s a deal.’
‘She had a bigger ass than me.’
‘But not as striped.’
She blushes. ‘Oh, and Mr Sheng said thank you. I don’t think he believes that you sorted this. It seemed impossible to him. You can go into The Blue Lantern any Saturday morning and he’ll be there, waiting to give you your money. And you’re getting a really big bonus for this. At first, it was just a big bonus, but I gave him one of my sinister looks and it became a really big bonus. Wily old guys like him, they always try to get away with stuff.’ She laughs. ‘Him and his fucking jazz.’
‘And the restaurant thing still stands, yes?’
‘Oh yeah. Of course.’
She leans over, kisses me on the mouth, then heads for the door. ‘Bye, baby.’
‘Bye, Fan Mei.’
She turns and smiles sweetly, then she’s gone.
*
A few days later, I’m sitting in The One Anchor in Shepherd’s Bush with Jamie Baldwin. It’s eight-fifteen. The place is crowded and has a lot more atmosphere than it does in the daytime. I sit opposite him, facing the entrance. He rang me a couple of times when I was in hospital. He’s not the sort of person who can let things go and he’s strongly motivated where the people who damaged his arm are concerned. His anger had started to outweigh the possibility of his reputation being destroyed. He was even talking about hiring a private investigator, hinting that if I wouldn’t do it, he’d find someone who would.
It’s all extremely tedious, but if he ever decided to look into all of this, he could find himself in very deep water indeed and, worse still, the trail could lead back to me. So I called him for a casual meeting in the pub. I told him it was important that I speak to him about all of this.
He waves at some old black guy who walks past our table, takes a couple of large gulps from his pint of bitter and narrows his eyes suspiciously. ‘So what’s this all about? What’s going on? Have you found out anything about those two bastards? What happened to you? What happened to your face?’
‘Look at me.’
He can’t make eye contact at first, but after a few seconds of staring I break him down and he cracks, looking into my eyes, blinking rapidly.
‘What happened to you was part of an enormous, complex conspiracy, which ultimately involved people you really don’t want to get involved with. I know you’re angry about what happened to you and one day you may decide to hire someone like me to get to the bottom of it. Don’t.’
‘But it’s not just my arm. It’s what they’ve got on me. It’s always going to be hanging over me. I can’t…’
I hold his gaze. ‘Listen carefully to what I’m telling you and don’t ask me to elaborate. Those two guys that visited your flat will never blackmail you. They will never blackmail anyone ever again. They will never harm Paige McBride in any way whatsoever. Believe me, their days of harming people are over.’
He looks a little puzzled, then the realisation slowly hits him and he looks spooked. ‘That’s what you said, wasn’t it? When we were here last time? You said that if I came clean with you, you might be able to make what was hanging over me disappear. Is that what’s happened?’
He’s got the wrong end of the stick, but I don’t let him know. I just look at him.
‘OK, man. I’ll trust you,’ he says. ‘I’ll leave it. I think you’re telling the truth.’
‘Good.’
I look at my watch, then look over at the door, which has just opened. My good deed for the day has just walked in and is looking around.
‘I’m going to leave you, Jamie. I have to visit a friend. Nice to see you again. Don’t get up.’
‘Thanks, man.’
I shake his hand and pat him on the shoulder as I head for the exit.
Just like when I met her in The Dorchester a million years ago, she has her hair tied back and twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a grey pinstripe jersey dress which stops just above her knees. She’s wearing her blue-tinted glasses, too. She smiles when she sees me.
‘He’s over there,’ I say. ‘I’ve got something for you. Forgot about it in all the excitement. One of Chudwell’s boys took them when you were not yourself.’
I hand her an envelope with the Polaroids that Tansil took of her while she was out of it in Chudwell’s house. I don’t mention the semen on the bedroom floor as I don’t want to make her vomit. She has a quick flick through them.
‘My God. Talk about explicit. What must have been going through my mind?’
‘I’d love to know. That’s all of them. I had thought of destroying them and not telling you, but they look really sexy, so I thought you might want them. Maybe do a book.’
She grins and nods her head. ‘They are, aren’t they. Sexy, I mean. Pretty pervy when you consider the circumstances. Jesus. Look at this one. I can use that pose onstage.’
She holds it up so I can see. Her hands are clasped behind her neck. Her head is turned to the side. Her eyes look pained. She’s biting her lower lip. Her back is arched and one thigh is crossed tightly over the other.
‘Here,’ she says, handing it to me. ‘You have this one. Something to remember me by.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. It’s the least I can do. I owe you quite a lot, don’t I.’
‘You owe me nothing. Oh, and that painting. Take it to Sotheby’s in New Bond Street, get it valued and get it auctioned. Do it tomorrow.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. They won’t charge you for valuing it.’
‘Come and see me. You’ll always be welcome. And look after Anouk.’
She kisses the tip of her right forefinger and places it on my lips. ‘Another time, another place, eh?’
‘You said it. ’Bye, Paige.’
I push open the door and walk out into the warm night.
*
It’s a spacious, smartly decorated three-bedroom flat in Belsize Avenue. This is a quiet, leafy, residential area and it’s a quick walk to a villagey little shopping area and the local tube station. It probably takes around fifteen minutes or less to get into the West End. There’s no doubt that the occupant lives alone.
Only one of the bedrooms has a bed in it. The others have been turned into an office and a mini-library. Someone from fifty years ago would be amazed to find that so many people now have offices in their homes. The mini-library is impressive and well-stocked. I’ve never seen so many books in one room before. I flash my torch across some of the spines. They’re all hardbacks. Rural Rides by William Cobbett, History of the Plague in London by Daniel Defoe, Belinda by Maria Edgeworth and Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller.
The kitchen has all the usual hi-tech stuff, but it doesn’t give the impression that much cooking is done here. All of the cupboards are fairly empty (apart from one containing many packets of dried pasta) and the refrigerator only contains long-life milk, butter, half a loaf of bread and a solitary bottle of Yattarna Chardonnay 2011, probably worth about a hundred quid. There’s a cupboard with tea, coffee and sugar, but only one mug. I get the impression that no one ever comes here.
The dining room has a circular dining table that seats eight. There are two prints on the wall, The Fall of Phaeton by Rubens and one I don’t recognise of a woman standing in a stone hallway talking to a guy in a red coat and a tall hat. Probably Flemish.
What might be called the living room has two big sofas and a wall-mounted television with a seventy-five-inch screen. Beneath the television is a black Bose stereo system that looks old. There are no DVDs that I can see, but there is a small shelf with a bunch of CDs: Janácek, Borodin, Prokofiev, Dvorák, Whitney Houston, The Eagles and Céline Dion.
There’s a small dining table in here that seats four, so I turn off my torch, slip it in my pocket and sit down, facing the door. My hands are beginning to sweat under the latex gloves.
I think about Daniella, the cryptographic consultant selfie queen. When I called her she couldn�
�t stop apologising for her outrageous texts. I told her not to worry. She looked great in all of them. Then she fretted about being overweight, like she needed reassurance that she had a sexy figure. But she knew she did, so I didn’t get drawn in.
I’m meeting her for dinner in three days. I’m going to take her to Amaya in Knightsbridge. She’s never been there. She won’t believe it. I booked a private dining room. They do a fantastic lobster dish that my mouth is watering just thinking about. I stop fantasising about her and clear my mind, thinking of nothing at all.
Then I hear the mortice lock being turned and the front door opening. A light comes on in the hallway and I can hear the mail that was on the floor being picked up and shuffled. I took a quick look after I came in, before dropping it all on the floor again. Nine letters: three junk mail, one electricity bill and five birthday cards.
There are a few more sounds, then the front door is closed. I can hear footsteps heading straight towards the door that I’m staring at, and then it opens and the light is turned on. Footitt just stares, his mouth hanging open like an idiot. His grip on his briefcase loosens and it falls to the floor. I can see a dark stain spreading down his left trouser leg. He’s pissing himself.
There are a lot of smart, witty phrases that come to mind at times like these; stuff like ‘welcome home, punk’ or ‘what time d’you call this?’ or ‘happy birthday, scumbag’, but looking at the expression of abject terror on his stupid, chinless face, I think I can boil it down to just one word.
‘Hi.’
THE END
Books by Dominic Piper
Kiss Me When I’m Dead
Death is the New Black
Femme Fatale
Dominic Piper’s Amazon page
Table of Contents
1 A TAP ON THE SHOULDER
2 THE BLUE LANTERN
3 AND ALL THAT JAZZ
4 THE MISSING FACILITATOR
5 LUNCH WITH DOUG
6 LETHAL AND GORGEOUS
7 CITY OF WILLOWS
8 HOT DATE
9 HASSLE
10 SHUTDOWN
11 THE GIRL IN THE FLAT
12 SOHO HOTEL
13 BORDELLO
14 CHAQUE BOUTON LCHE
15 SO WHAT’S GOING ON?
16 THAT TOUCH OF INK
17 LUNCH AT THE DORCHESTER
18 THE BOXER
19 FIRST WARNING
20 IRON BAR TREATMENT
21 A FRIENDLY VISIT
22 MR X
23 ROUGH TRADE
24 PAIGE’S PLACE
25 CAFÉ ROYAL
26 THE CUSP OF A RELATIONSHIP
27 MORE SEX
28 THE STEEL YARD
29 BREAK-IN
30 MARTON COMPUTER SOLUTIONS
31 ELEEMOSYNARY
32 MR BECKETT, IS IT?
33 TEMPLE SECURITY
34 RÔLE PLAY
35 A FACE MADE FOR PUNCHING
36 BERKELEY SQUARE
37 SEEING STARS
38 A BUNCH OF PUNKS
39 NOT YOUR LUCKY DAY
40 DIM MAK
41 DÉNOUEMENT
42 SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY