by Taylor Leon
‘One pink elephant, two pink elephants, three pink elephants,’ she slowly counted to twenty. At the pace he was walking, that should have given him enough time to have passed through the alley.
Now she turned into it. It was dark, but quiet. She could see lights at the other end and just beyond that the bottom of the monolithic high-rise flats. She started walking down, and felt foolish for feeling such a scaredy-cat.
He came out of nowhere, stepping out in front of her. The moonlight lit up one side of his face. Despite the shock, she bizarrely thought how handsome he was. But that thought was immediately knocked aside as he bore down on her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her towards him.
Many years ago, her Dad had told her that if, God forbid, she was ever attacked then she should run. If that wasn’t an option then she should kick her attacker “in the bollocks”. He then took her out into the garden where she spent twenty minutes practising her high kicks, until he was satisfied that she was putting sufficient power into them and could cripple any guy who tried it on. Now, many years later, instinct took over and Oriane kicked out. Hard.
Her attacker immediately dropped his arms and with a loud yell, hobbled back, clutching his groin, his face creased up in agony.
She turned to run back the way she had come, but he came at her again, grabbing and pulling at the back of her jacket. He was so strong she didn’t think she stood a chance. He spun her around and was about to force her against the wire fence when she dropped down and crawled through a small tear in the wires. He tried to grab her feet so he could pull her back, but she started screaming, and kicked him away.
Rolling and then rising on the other side, she looked back and saw his shadow hurrying along the outside of the fence, looking for another larger gap to come through. She screamed out in the darkness, hoping to hear returning shouts in the distance from anyone else nearby.
He paused at a break in the fence and she was sure he was going to force himself through. She ran across the open ground, ducking behind a large digger, continuing to scream out for help. She only paused briefly when she thought she heard rising voices coming down the alley.
Her attacker must have heard them as well because when she peered around the machine, he had gone
14
‘I’M REALLY NOT in the mood,’ I pleaded. But Frankie wasn’t taking “no” for an answer.
She stood in my flat all dolled up in black, her fair hair down over her shoulders, her make-up applied just the right side of sexy, without looking like she had tried.
‘I thought we might get a take-away,’ I said, ‘and watch some TV.’
Frankie dropped her handbag onto my sofa, crossed the room and placed her hands on my shoulders. I was in a t-shirt and jogger pants and felt seriously scruffy standing opposite her.
‘You need to get out occasionally,’ she said, looking deep into my eyes.
‘I do go out.’
‘I’m not counting damnations.’
‘I don’t have time-’ I started saying, but she cut me off.
‘You don’t look very busy tonight.’
‘I’m seeing you, but I’m tired. I’m in the middle of a murder investigation-’
She cut me off again. ‘Trust me, this will liven you up. Besides, you need to get out and meet new people.’
I could tell Frankie wasn’t going to give up on this.
Sampson, my darling Schnoodle, sat up and then jumped off the sofa. He wanted to remind us he was here. He padded over, stopped next to us and looked up.
I took his cue.
‘I can’t just go out for the evening. I’m not ready and I have to feed Sampson and take him for a walk.’
Frankie dropped her arms. ‘No problem. While you glam-up, I’ll take Sampson out for a walk, then you can feed him before we go.’
She bent down and ruffled his fur, and I swear he smiled up at her. I had very few visitors, but he was used to Frankie.
‘Okay, okay,’ I sighed. ‘But not late.’
Frankie knelt down next to Sampson and rubbed him harder. ‘Is Auntie Frankie going to take you for a little walk?’ she cooed. Then she looked up at me. ‘Go, go.’
****
I couldn’t believe I had let her bring me here. Taste, was barely a step up from the notorious Charley’s nightclub. Both were renowned meat-markets, with men of all ages flocking for an easy lay.
I felt just about safe at the bar, although a little uncomfortable and self-conscious with what I was wearing. A tight gold sequinned halter top that I just about squeezed into. I know I’m not bad-looking, but I had put on a few pounds in recent months. Sitting in front of the TV with Sampson, gorging on popcorn and red-wine was a contributing factor.
Now we were in the club Frankie seemed a little subdued. The music was pounding away behind us and I think she just wanted to be over there on the dancefloor. She was a party girl at heart.
‘I don’t know where you get the energy from,’ I told her, the music in the background almost drowning me out.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Well, you teach during the day, work with us girls some evenings, and then find the energy to come here. I know I couldn’t do it.’
Frankie shrugged and ran a manicured fingernail around the rim of her glass. She was having a gin and tonic. I, as self-appointed driver, was on sparkling water.
‘I live alone,’ she said, ‘and I don’t have a pet.’
As if that explained why we were sitting inside Taste.
‘You need a boyfriend, Frankie,’ I said, smiling.
‘Says you!’ She turned and finally grinned. ‘Oh, I forgot, you have one!’
She was referring to Cade. She knew I liked him.
‘He is not-,’ I started.
‘-my boyfriend,’ she finished, and laughed at my predictability. ‘But you want him to be,’ and she prodded me lightly with her finger.
‘Well, maybe…yes. Okay, yes! But I told you before, not while we work together.’
‘Good men like that get snapped up quickly.’
‘Here’s the irony,’ I told her. ‘He may transfer out of my department.’
‘Which means you would be okay to date him?’ Frankie said slowly, waiting for the “but”.
‘His wife is leaving London, so he would move to Manchester to be near his son.’
‘Oh, shit. I’m sorry,’ Frankie said, looking down at her drink.
‘I guess it isn’t meant to be.’
‘Two lonely spinsters are we,’ Frankie said and turned to look over her shoulder at the dance-floor.
‘There must be someone you like,’ I said to her.
She turned back to me. ‘The good ones are taken. That’s why I said you should nab John while you can.’
‘So, there is no-one?’ I leaned in and smiled.
‘I don’t think I can have a long-term relationship.’ She finished her drink. ‘I’m not like Victoria or Moira. Or even Bella. I couldn’t be that close to someone and not share my life with them. My whole life.’ She looked away, maybe so I couldn’t see how upset she really was.
‘I’m not sure I could either,’ I agreed.
‘My personal life is just a series of short fantasies,’ she whispered to herself.
‘Frankie?’
She looked up. ‘Jonas Hart,’ she said brightly.
‘As in the TV actor?’
‘You know him?’
‘You forget how much TV Sampson and I watch in the evenings…wait you don’t know him, do you?’
‘Maybe a little,’ she said.
I burst out laughing. ‘Go on, tell me.’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘Not so long ago I heard he had attended the school I now teach at. So, I suggested to the Head that it would be a good idea for him to come and speak with our students. I got in touch with his agent, had a brief conversation with him and he’s coming to speak at the school next month.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘I mean, that’s one wa
y to snag a boyfriend.’
Frankie shrugged coolly. ‘He’s going to speak, with all the proceeds going to charity. Tickets are prioritised for students and teachers past and present but I’ve got a couple for Moira and her daughter. You’re welcome to join us.’
‘Mmm, let me see. What’s my diary like next month?’
‘I’ll throw in a backstage pass,’ she joked.
The bartender leaned over and took her empty glass. ‘You want another, Frankie?’
She ordered a G&T. I indicated I was fine with what I had.
‘The bartender knows your name?’ I asked, once he’d gone.
She went a little red, and wouldn’t look me in the eye.
‘Frankie, how often do you come here?’
‘Maybe once a week.’
‘Who with?’
‘Come on, let’s dance,’ she said, climbing off her stool.
I reached out and gently pulled her back down. ‘You’ve got a drink coming. Who with, Frankie?’
She sighed. ‘No-one, okay?’
‘No-one?’
‘No-one,’ she repeated.
I looked over at the shadows dancing furiously to the fast beat of the music. Despite appearances it was clear that Frankie was as lonely as I was. Maybe lonelier.
‘Here’s your drink, Frankie,’ the barman said and Frankie reached into her purse to pay him.
He held up his hand. ‘No need. The gent at the other end of the bar got this for you.’
We looked across to see the guy, perhaps a few years older than us, with a dark, closely cropped beard. He lifted his beer bottle to salute us.
Frankie’s head dropped. ‘Oh shit,’ she said and covered her eyes.
‘What’s wrong? Do you know him?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Kind of? What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Frankie?’ I leaned in closer.
A shadow fell across us as the bearded guy in question had come over.
‘I wasn’t sure I’d see you again,’ he said to Frankie. ‘If you fancy meeting outside again-’
Frankie jumped off her stool and pushed past him, nearly knocking the bottle out of his hand.
‘Whoa,’ he said, stepping back, then turning to me. ‘What’s the matter with her?’
I turned and glared at him, although I had no idea what he’d done wrong, if anything.
‘How do you know Frankie?’
‘Frankie?’ he smirked. ‘Last time we didn’t do names.’ He took a swig from the bottle. ‘I guess she’s one of them hot and colds?’
‘Out of my way,’ I said and pushed past him, following Frankie into the Ladies.
She was alone in there, standing at one of the sinks, looking at herself in the mirror and crying.
She saw me in the reflection. ‘So, now you know. Your friend is a slut.’
I stepped across so I was right behind her. ‘A one-night stand doesn’t make you a slut.’
‘One-night?’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘Have there been many?’
‘Too many,’ she whispered.
I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.
‘It’s so hard, you know,’ she continued. ‘Leading the lives, we lead. The double lives.’
‘You’re right,’ I said, watching her in the mirror. ‘I do know.’
‘Victoria and the girls think I brought you into The Coven because you’re a cop and could help us find criminals to damn. But that wasn’t the reason why.’
I waited for what seemed an eternity while she made the decision to cross the line and tell me.
‘I did it for myself,’ she said. ‘I wanted a friend. I wanted someone else like me to know about The Coven. To live like I do. To understand how I feel.’
She looked back at me, trying to tell if I was offended by what she was saying. I went into “interview” mode, hiding any emotion or judgment, just like I did when I questioned suspects. I always let them do the talking, trying to wrestle an emotional outburst from them.
‘You lost your mother fourteen years ago,’ Frankie continued. ‘That affected you, didn’t it?’
Of course, it did. I was only fourteen years old when I saw it happen. I was there and have had nightmares every night since. That was the underlying reason I had joined The Coven. Mum’s killer is still out there, and one day I will find him.
Frankie nodded as if she had just read me. ‘Losing my sister affected me too,’ she said. ‘Maybe that’s why we both are what we are.’
15
THE MALE CONSTABLE was in the middle of a crossword when I arrived at the station, after dropping Frankie home. This wasn’t my own patch, so he had no idea who I was. I was still wearing the gold sequin halter top, with my hair and make-up in place.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked, with a little concern in his voice.
‘I’m Detective Sergeant Erin Dark,’ I told him.
‘Really?’ he said, as though I was some crank.
‘Really,’ I said.
Constable Marianne Holt came through. ‘It’s okay Jim, I’ve got this,’ she said.
Marianne and I had known each other for years, but even she gave me a strange look when she saw what I was wearing. Without saying anything, she led me through the door and down the corridor to the interview rooms.
‘Thanks for calling me,’ I told her.
‘It might be nothing,’ she said, ‘but I heard you were running the murder case in Benham and so I thought…well you can speak to her yourself. I’m sorry if I dragged you away…’
She looked down at my clothes and smiled.
‘Don’t even ask,’ I said.
‘You’ve changed since we last worked together. You never used to be a party goer.’
‘Believe me, I’m still not.’
We stopped at the first interview room.
‘How is she?’ I asked.
‘She’s okay now,’ she said. ‘A bit shaken up, but she’s holding up pretty well considering. She’s got a friend in with her. Patricia O’Hearne. Oriane was on the way to her flat when the attack took place.’
‘Have we got a sketch of the attacker?’
‘We’ve got someone coming in to sit with her.’
‘Good. Did you manage to pull those photos off the system that I asked you for?’
She held up a slim wallet-file. I remembered her as always being extremely efficient. As if she had read my mind she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notepad and pen.
‘You’ll want these.’
I took them and thanked her before she led me through into the interview room. There were two girls seated at the table. A brunette with shoulder length hair, dressed in a grey jumper, and next to her a redhead with her hair tied back in a ponytail.
‘Oriane?’ I asked.
The brunette gave a polite smile. ‘That’s me.’
I turned and nodded to Marianne who closed the door and came and sat down next to me at the table, opposite the girls. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Erin Dark. Constable Holt thought it would be a good idea if I spoke with you.’
Oriane looked over at Marianne who said softly, ‘You tell Detective Dark exactly what you told me.’
Oriane nodded and swallowed deeply before she began. ‘I was on my way to Patti’s….’
‘And you’re Patti?’ I asked the redhead, who nodded in reply, before Oriane continued.
‘I got off the 328 bus in Temley High Street and walked up towards Byron Road…’
‘Was there anyone else around?’
She nodded. ‘Just one guy who got off the bus the same time as me.’
I looked over at Marianne, who said. ‘We’re getting hold of the film from the bus.’
‘Did you notice him on the bus?’ I asked Oriane.
‘Not really. I was downstairs, near the front. I think he was at the back.’
‘On his own?’
‘I don’t remember.’
&
nbsp; ‘Did you see him get on the bus?’
She frowned. ‘He got on at my stop. Quite a few people got on there. He was somewhere behind me. He must have walked past me to get to his seat, but I don’t really remember.’
‘That’s okay,’ I said gently. ‘When he got off the bus in Temley High Street, did he get off the bus before or after you?’
‘After.’
‘You’re sure?’
She nodded. ‘The street was pretty empty. I looked over my shoulder and saw him walking in the same direction as me.’
‘Was he looking at you?’
‘No, he had his head down like this.’ She bowed her head.
‘What was he wearing?’
‘He was wearing a grey hat and a grey coat. Blue jeans and, I think, white trainers.’
I was writing notes while she spoke.
‘There’s a fenced off area between the High Street and Patti’s place,’ she continued, her voice dropping and when I looked up I could see she had gone pale as she re-lived the frightening experience. ‘You either have to walk all the way up to Byron Road and go around, or there’s a small cut through.’
‘Building works,’ Marianne explained to me. ‘They’re planning to build some new flats there. They’ve knocked everything down and are just starting on the foundations.’
I turned back to Oriane. ‘What happened next?’
‘I stopped at the corner and pulled out my phone.’
‘You stopped? Why?’
‘I didn’t like someone coming up behind me, so, before I went down the cut-through, I pretended to be on the phone and let him pass me.’
‘Why did you pretend to be on the phone?’
‘I thought I was being silly and didn’t want to offend him or look stupid.’
I nodded for her to continue.
‘He went down the alley and I waited until I thought he had gone and then I went through.’
‘And when did you see him again?’
Her hands were trembling on the table. Patti, reached out and placed a re-assuring hand over them.
‘He came out of nowhere,’ Oriane said. ‘He must have been hiding in the shadows.’
‘Did you get a good look at him?’
‘It was dark, but he was tall, over six foot.’
