Bill Coleman. Yet another name. ‘Where did you meet him, Eleanor?’
‘He suggested The Bolton Mayfair. He said they had very nice rooms and he liked staying there whenever he was in town. He said he’d stayed there at least half a dozen times and that the food was very good.’
‘What was he? A businessman from outside London?’
‘I supposed he was. I didn’t know anything about him. Usually it’s when you meet up that they start talking about their jobs.’ She looks straight at Sakura. ‘As you’ll know, it’s the most popular topic of conversation with most men.’
Sakura smiles and laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘And, of course, their wives.’
‘Oh yes,’ says Eleanor, smiling for the first time. ‘They always like to talk about their wives. I know some of their wives better than they do. The wives of my regulars, anyway.’
Eleanor and Sakura exchange a little small talk about the foibles of male clients, but this is good; it’s relaxing her and showing her that she and Sakura have some shared experiences. It’ll help her trust us. I suspect that there’s something deep inside her that she doesn’t want to talk about and you have to let these things float to the surface naturally, if at all possible.
‘Had you ever been to The Bolton Mayfair before, Eleanor?’ I say.
‘No, it was my first time. It’s very nice inside and Mr Coleman had booked a King Deluxe room, which was fantastic.’
‘I’ve seen those rooms. They’re huge, aren’t they.’
The smile vanishes from her face. It’s as if thinking about the hotel room had drained the energy from her body. I can feel her anxiety and it’s giving me a bit of a chill in my stomach. She starts to look her age once more.
‘You won’t go to the police, will you? I don’t know why I’m saying that. I haven’t done anything wrong, not really. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. But you won’t go to the police, will you?’
‘About what, darling?’ says Sakura, sympathetically.
‘About all of this. About what I’m going to tell you. I used to think I was pretty tough, you know, mentally. I’m quite clever. I can analyse things and work them all out. But it’s been burning a hole in me. I thought it would get better after the first week, then I thought it would get better after the second week, but it didn’t work like that at all; it’s actually getting worse. I really don’t know what to do about it. I didn’t see anything in the papers, so I don’t know what’s going on.’ She leans forwards, confidentially. ‘I’ve been drinking a lot. I thought that would kill off everything and then I could go back to things as they were before. But it’s not just me feeling guilty. It’s the fact that I just know they’ll be looking for me. It’s why I’m afraid to go out and I don’t answer my phone. I think that everyone’s going to be after me. I did go to the local shops yesterday, though.’
I smile and nod. I don’t know what on earth she’s talking about, but at least loads of stuff is coming out now. It’s just up to me to make some sense of it all.
She pours us all another coffee and offers the chocolates around. ‘I’ve been fucking up my college work, too. Not seriously and I thought I’d have been able to catch up by now with a clear head, you know? I can keep a lid on it all, usually. But I can’t concentrate and – I never thought I’d hear myself saying this – I feel depressed, you know? It’s three big essays and some smaller stuff. It was about theorising security and war. I know what to do and I understand it all, but I just can’t bring myself to get down to it. And I’ve been missing lectures. I wrote to them saying I was ill but I can’t keep saying that indefinitely. I can usually keep a lid on it all.’ She wipes the tears from her eyes but they keep on coming.
‘Don’t worry,’ says Sakura, reaching forwards to hold Eleanor’s hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to catch up, once this is all over.’
Once what is all over? I don’t think I’m really sure anymore. I’ve got to get Eleanor back to talking about her timeline. ‘Eleanor, you were saying that normally you don’t remember your clients’ names or the name of the hotel, but you did this time. Why was that?’
‘Because he didn’t want sex. This lovely big hotel room with this huge bed, but he didn’t want sex. And the cost, too. The cost of me, I mean. All of that money and he didn’t want sex. Sometimes my clients will just want to talk, but not usually on the first visit.’
‘How long did he book you for, darling? An hour?’ says Sakura.
‘That’s the funny thing. It was overnight. He said he was doing it to show good faith.’
‘So you made good money for doing nothing, darling?’
‘Well, yes. And he gave me a tip of fifteen hundred on top of the fee. But I didn’t stay there once he’d talked about the deal. I got back here about a quarter to eleven that night.’ She suddenly leans forwards and grabs my wrist. ‘Could you stay here with me tonight? I could make a bed up, but I’d feel safer if you were in my bedroom with me.’
I take her hand in mine but remain professionally noncommittal. I have to say that I’m quite impressed with my restraint in this matter and am now pretty close to sainthood. ‘You said you didn’t stay at the hotel once he’d talked about the deal. What was the deal?’
And then Eleanor Wallis/Amelia Finch/Lara Holland/Celia Valentine tells us about the deal and everything starts to slowly capsize.
20
THE DEAL
Since I started this case, there has been something at the back of my mind which I’ve been ignoring, mainly because it’s weak, conventional thinking, which I don’t ordinarily do. When Eleanor starts talking, a part of me is pleased that my instinct has been proved right, but another part wishes it wasn’t.
‘He said he’d pay me for the night and he was pleased to do it,’ says Eleanor. ‘He said he thought I was beautiful, but that I wasn’t to take offence.’
‘Offence at what?’ says Sakura.
‘That he didn’t want to have me. He said that under normal circumstances, he’d love to spend the night with me, but these were not normal circumstances. This was something special. This was something that could get me a lot of money if I played my cards right.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘What did he say then?’
She lights another cigarette. She’s getting through them quickly, managing to finish each one with about six deep drags. She keeps rubbing her eyes, touching her face and pursing her lips. ‘He started talking about this guy. He said that this guy was a friend of the family. I don’t know why, but I didn’t believe this, I just kept nodding my head in an understanding way. I’m used to doing that.’ She glances at Sakura. ‘You know what I mean? When you’re listening to stuff that you’re not really interested in, but it’s part of what you have to do to keep them happy?’
‘Yes, Eleanor. I understand,’ says Sakura, nodding her head and smiling.
‘Anyway, as I said, I didn’t believe what he was saying, not the details, anyway, but the general theme seemed convincing to me. He said that this friend of the family was an old guy whom he’d known for many years. This guy had helped him when he’d been down and all that sort of crap. I kept looking sincere, thinking I’d be getting out soon, but I’d still be paid for a whole night.
‘As he was talking, I started thinking about what I’d do when I got home, you know? I was thinking that I might send out for a pizza and watch a film or something. He kept on talking about this guy, as if he was trying to convince me that this guy was Father Christmas and David Attenborough rolled into one. So nice, this guy was, so kind and understanding. Well, believe you me, I was starting to think I wanted this guy to adopt me, you know?’
I have to laugh at this. For the first time, Eleanor makes eye contact with me and smiles, as if we’re having a normal conversation. Idiotically, I start to ponder asking her out for dinner when this job is over. ‘So – what was he doing? Was he building up to getting you to do something for this male Mother Theresa?’
&n
bsp; She giggles and starts chewing at her thumbnail. ‘He told me a story about this guy and all the hardships he’d had to endure. He was a widower. He’d had a beautiful wife once and she had died and it had broken his heart. The one thing that had kept him sane was his daughter. She was beautiful and sweet and all the rest of it. She was the light of his life. You can imagine it, can’t you; all the clichés came pouring out. I feel like I’m relating some bloody fairy story. She was just like a princess. I hated her immediately. Shall I make some more coffee?’
‘I’ll do it.’ Sakura gets up and goes into the kitchen. Eleanor watches with slight concern as she leaves the room. I can’t blame her; Sakura has a soothing and reassuring presence. But I’ve got to keep Eleanor in full flow, even though I can predict what’s coming next.
‘So was there a problem with the daughter? Had something happened to her?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t use the word problem, exactly, but she was very affected by her mother’s death and went off the rails, as they say. She had a drink problem, then boyfriend problems, then a drug problem and – shock of shocks – had eventually drifted into the oldest profession. I mean – can you believe it? That poor girl!’
‘Well I’m appalled, Eleanor. I think I may throw up. Do you have a bucket?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. This carpet’s old.’
We both laugh as Sakura returns with some more coffee. She makes eye contact with me and nods slightly. Eleanor takes two or three rapid sips of her coffee and licks her lips.
‘Anyway, he said that her father was desperate to get in touch with her again, but didn’t know how to go about it. He hadn’t seen her for years, apparently. Then he found out she was working as a call girl for one of those agencies that caters for bisexual and lesbian women.’
‘How long ago was this?’ I ask. ‘How long ago did he find this out?’
‘I can’t remember. I don’t think he gave me an exact date, but I think it was probably in the last three or four months. That’s the impression I got, anyway. Could be wrong.’
‘How on earth did he discover which agency his daughter was working for?’
‘I don’t know. Mr Coleman didn’t share that piece of information with me.’ She scratches her head. ‘I didn’t like him, this Mr Coleman. He was very pleasant on the surface, but there was something nasty about him. Something deep down. I can’t really put it into words. It was as if he was secretly looking down on you, secretly sneering at you. It was as if he hated your guts beyond belief but someone was paying him to be nice to you. He was trying hard, you know? But he just couldn’t prevent the poison from dripping out.’
I leave a gap of about thirty seconds before I speak again. I stand up to stretch my legs and look out of the window at the garden.
‘What did Mr, er, Coleman look like, Eleanor? Could you give me a rough description?’
‘Very big, like he played rugby or something, you know? Very tall, too. I mean, you’re tall aren’t you, but he was definitely taller than you.’
‘Six foot four? Six foot five? Something like that?’
‘Yes. Yes, I would think that was about right. Um, looked like he spent a lot of time in the gym, but too much time in the gym, you know? Where the shoulders and all the rest start to look freakily big, like you know he works out and it’s a bit of a turnoff, yeah? Guys don’t realise how revolting that look is to most women.’
‘Hair?’
‘Shaved head, but you could see he was trying to disguise male pattern baldness.’
‘Age?’
‘Fifty-ish, perhaps. The baldness made it difficult to be more accurate than that.’
‘Accent?’
‘South of England somewhere. That’s the best I can do.’
It’s Fisher. So was the hell was he playing at? Was he really working on behalf of Raleigh? Was he working alone to impress his boss with the most wonderful present of all? Does Raleigh know about any of this? Does Raleigh share his most intimate secrets with Fisher? Some of the facts were familiar, but it sounds as if they were twisted around to create a more effective sob story for Eleanor.
I’ve been wondering about Fisher since I spoke about him with Anjukka, and had a mild suspicion that he might be screwing over Raleigh in some way or other. It may be more complicated than that, however. I’ll have to keep pressing.
‘So what did Mr Coleman suggest to you, Eleanor?’
She frowns and looks at the floor. Her speech is faster now, as if she can’t wait to get it all out. ‘He said he’d come up with this plan. A plan that would make this lovely old guy happy again. He said that this man had come to terms with his daughter being a call girl, but they’d had a row about something unconnected with that, and the daughter wouldn’t get in touch with him anymore.
‘His plan was that someone would hire his daughter for the night. It would have to be a woman, because of the type of agency she now worked for. I know about these agencies. They sometimes get male callers, but they don’t ever send girls out to them.’ She looks at Sakura to get confirmation of this.
‘It’s true,’ says Sakura. ‘Some men contact me from time to time. They think they can get two les or bi girls out to do a show for them or something and eventually they’ll join in!’ She laughs at the audacity of such men. ‘There are plenty of places you can get that from, but it’s not the sort of service that I’m offering. Sometimes I’ll send two girls out, but only if it’s for a woman.’
‘So I think the idea,’ says Eleanor, ‘was that this was a sure-fire way of getting this man’s daughter in a place where they’d definitely know where she was going to be and at what time. Mr Coleman said that it was important that father and daughter should be reunited on neutral ground, so to speak.’
I sit down again, take a large gulp of coffee and a deep breath. ‘OK. So Bill Coleman knew about agencies like yours, Sakura, and he knew which one of them that Viola worked for.’
‘Who’s Viola?’ says Eleanor, looking confused, as well she might be.
‘Viola is Natasha’s real name, darling,’ says Sakura patiently. ‘You know what it’s like.’
‘Of course,’ says Eleanor, smiling. Then something wipes the smile off her face and she starts to sob again. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not usually weepy like this. I think it might be delayed shock. This has all been very traumatic for me, even though I’ve tried to rationalise it as much as I can. I’m scared as well. I try to put how much I’m scared to the back of my mind, but it keeps on creeping up on me.
‘I’ve been drinking quite a bit. Did I tell you that already? And sometimes I watch some television or a film and if I get wrapped up in the story I forget about everything for a while. Dramas are the best, especially if they have a complicated plot. Then suddenly, something will trigger the memory again.’
I’m a little bit lost here, I have to admit. It’s plain that we haven’t had the whole story yet and that the whole story is troubling her in some way. What can she have delayed shock from? What has traumatised her that she’s been trying to drink her way to oblivion for three weeks? If Fisher is behind it, I’d be only too happy to give him a little trauma of his own.
Eleanor composes herself and lights another cigarette. ‘So that was it, really. Oh, and the money. I was a bit dubious at first and I think he picked up on it. He said if I did this job for him and did it well, he’d give me ten thousand pounds. Five thousand now and the other five when it was finished. That seemed like a pretty good couple of days’ work to me.’
‘You’re kidding. Ten thousand. Just for ringing up Sakura and pretending to be a client of one of her girls.’
‘Well, it wasn’t just that, was it? I had to go to Chiswick and…let me go back a bit. He gave me a piece of paper with the name of the website. He suggested a sort of personality for me; a married a woman who wanted to experiment with her lesbian side. He seemed to know a lot about it, like he’d been reading up on it.
‘He told me the name of the girl I had to
book – Natasha Hart. He told me that it would sound more convincing if I pretended that I hadn’t been with a woman before and I was to keep pressing until tantric massage was suggested. That would limit it to three girls.
‘He showed me the website in the hotel room and we looked at all the services offered and then we looked at the profiles of the three girls who did the tantric and then we focussed on Natasha. I memorised all of her details and specialities, so that if one thing failed and Sakura tried to fob me off with someone else, I’d have some other reason for choosing Natasha to fall back on, understand? ’
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘Something I could come up with quickly, even though I’d have the website in front of me when I called her up, see? I didn’t want the person on the other end of the line to hear typing.’
‘And then you limited your choice to Anneliese or Natasha,’ says Sakura. She’s smiling, but she’s not at all impressed with herself for being fooled so easily by a twenty-year-old girl. It’s understandable, though. Eleanor is very well spoken, posh even, and her voice is quite low, with very little girlishness in it.
‘That’s correct. I tried to make it seem as if I wasn’t decided, and that’s what Mr Coleman told me to do, but after pretending to think a bit, I told her I wanted Natasha as I preferred her looks.’ She suddenly looks up at Sakura. ‘I’m sorry. This is really weird that I’m talking about what I did with you and you’re actually here in front of me and we’ve already spoken on the telephone and I lied to you about all of this. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm by it.’
‘That’s quite alright,’ says Sakura. But I can tell she’s perturbed by the whole thing and just wants Eleanor to get on with it so that she can find out what happened to Viola.
Eleanor twists her hair around one of her fingers. ‘We ran through it in the hotel room, there and then. I pretended that Mr Coleman was the person I’d be speaking to and I explained about myself and I explained why I wanted to try it with another woman. It was easy. I’ve been with bi-curious women and I’ve spoken to them and I can remember what they said. I can remember their nervousness. Mr Coleman looked really pleased and impressed. We had quite a laugh about it. I thought that this was going to be the easiest money I’d ever made.’
Kiss Me When I'm Dead Page 28
