The Room on the Second Floor

by T A Williams

  ‘Absolument impossible. Nobody, I put my hand on my heart and swear. Non, not on your Nellie. Nobody here.’ He paused briefly before conceding, ‘Well, except maybe that crazy lady on the second floor…’

  Crazy lady on the second floor? That had to be Rachel Turner. Did they know something about her that he didn’t? Roger waited a moment for him to expand, but Henri had finished.

  Roger looked at the two of them. ‘I can’t believe it either, gentlemen. But the fact is, the police are convinced that the person who locked me inside the pillbox may well turn out to be the same person who put the stuff in there in the first place. Indeed, he may have been responsible for the other attempts upon my life. But who the hell could it be…?’ The frustration in his voice was clear for all to hear.

  Henri started to reply. ‘Not necessarily the same person…’ Before he could say more, they were interrupted.

  ‘Do I smell coffee?’ Duggie had been making his final round of the building in readiness for the following day’s grand opening. He was feeling extremely satisfied and relieved that all appeared to be in place. A quick coffee and then up to the second floor, which had already resumed operations after the Christmas festivities. The fact that this was New Year’s Eve did not stand in the way of the Salon and its ever-increasing body of customers. In fact, Mo had pointed out earlier that week that they were busier than ever. Presumably their clients chose to see the old year out with a bang.

  ‘Hi, Duggie. Take a seat.’

  Roger waved him onto a seat on the other side of the table. Jasper promptly did his best to climb onto his lap. While Duggie gently dissuaded the dog and Henri returned to the coffee machine, Roger went on. ‘We have been sitting here, trying hard to think of who might be behind these attempts upon my life. It seems that my uncle was not the nicest of men in his latter years. Nevertheless, I can’t see how that could possibly justify trying to kill me. Any ideas?’

  Duggie gratefully accepted an espresso from Henri. ‘The bit I can’t understand is that if somebody was unhappy with your uncle, they might still want to take it out on you. Maybe if you had been closely involved with the manor in the days of your uncle, then OK, I could understand. But you had nothing to do with him or it at all. It’s very strange.’

  ‘I remember,’ Henri was thinking hard, ‘I remember being told once that every Chinese restaurant, wherever it is in the world, pays protection money to the Chinese Mafia. I don’t know if that’s really true. But you don’t suppose there could be something similar for golf clubs, do you?’

  Paddy and Roger’s reaction to such a ludicrous notion had them laughing out loud. It therefore came as a bit of a surprise to all of them to see the colour drain from Duggie’s face. He swallowed the last of his coffee and made a hasty departure.

  As he ran up the stairs to the second floor, he prayed to nobody in particular,

  ‘Oh shit. Please don’t let all this be my fault.’

  Chapter 42

  Mo was in Reception, and she wasn’t having the best of days.

  ‘Hi, Mo. How’s it going?’ Duggie resurrected his cheery air. The answer was not promising.

  ‘Trouble, to be honest, Douglas.’ She was looking concerned. ‘I really don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to hack it with Ms Turner. Have you seen the latest?’

  She pointed across to the opposite wall, just above the cupboard containing the dirty DVDs. There, alongside the clear statement that the Salon was an Equal Opportunities employer, which did not discriminate on the grounds of sex, race, religion or age, was a new notice in a nice gold frame. He stepped across and took a closer look. It was headed in large letters: Client Charter. It contained a list of bullet points, laid out under the initial Mission Statement. Ah, Duggie thought to himself, this should be interesting.

  But before he could get into the client charter, the security door burst open. Natascha appeared, wearing a new black leather domination outfit with mini skirt, stockings and vicious high-heeled shoes. Normally very friendly to Duggie, she only spared him a passing glance this time. She headed for Mo, smoke just about coming out of her Russian ears.

  ‘Listen, Mo. Somebody has been use my corset.’ Mo instinctively corrected her.

  ‘Using your bustier.’

  ‘Whatever. Somebody big and fat has been in this thing. Just look.’ Both Mo and Duggie watched as she grabbed the finely stitched leather half cups and pulled them out, away from her breasts. Duggie admired both the needlework and the breasts. He had just had sight of the invoice for the former. At a cost of almost 200 euros, the stitching bloody well had better be good. He immediately realised the problem. The previous occupant of the bra had stretched the leather. Natascha’s charms were now not so much lifted and separated, as virtually camouflaged by the garment.

  ‘You see? You know rules, Mo. You told all of us. You don’t use something if it don’t fit. We all know that, so who is this pig? She ruin my costume.’ She was spitting. Duggie decided not to get involved. Matters such as this, he felt, were not really his baby. He took a few surreptitious steps back and let the two women get on with it.

  Mo did her best to calm the angry Russian down, while Duggie read the charter. The mission statement left him speechless. It read:

  The Salon is committed to promoting a satisfying sensory experience and seeks to ensure the individual fulfilment of every client’s demands.

  It’s a brothel, for Christ’s sake, thought Duggie, why the hell do we need a mission statement?

  As for the bullet points that followed, they contained a bewildering series of meaningless clichés. These ranged from Total customer satisfaction is paramount to Complete accuracy and truthfulness in all promotional documents. Considering that there were no promotional documents of any kind relating to the services offered by the Salon, that was superfluous, to say the least. But he steeled himself to read it right through. His eyes widened as he reached the bottom line. Yes, she really had written it.

  The customer comes first.

  The document finished with a complaints procedure which included him, along with Rachel Turner as possible sources of redress. He snorted and turned back to Mo as Natascha, pacified at least for the moment, made her way back into the Salon.

  ‘So how did you calm her down?’ Duggie admired the way Mo had handled the incident.

  ‘I told her to take the suede mini-skirt and matching crop-top. I’m sure her client, Colonel Taylor, will find her just as attractive in that. I also reminded her that it is not, after all, going to stay on for long.’ Duggie had to hand it to her.

  ‘So what about the person who stretched the leather? Might that be who I think it is?’ He raised his eyebrows interrogatively. ‘After all, there are not many larger bodies round here. And I’m assuming it wasn’t Rocky.’

  Mo glanced nervously at the closed-circuit TV screen, in case the manager was at the door.

  ‘I’m afraid so. It has happened before. On Christmas Eve it was Sindy’s PVC play-suit. Left it in an awful state.’ Duggie could not recall exactly which garment this was, but he felt it wiser to remain ignorant. ‘And it’s not just clothes. Some of Natascha’s toys have gone missing. We are short of a rabbit and a hedgehog.’

  Duggie had been responsible for paying for these, so he now knew what she was talking about. Definitely not the sort of toys one would find in your local neighbourhood toyshop. He sighed deeply. It was quite clear that Ms Turner was turning out to be an unmitigated disaster.

  Mo sighed in sympathy with him. ‘And we all thought she’d improve, now she’s got a man.’

  This was news to Duggie. ‘A man? I thought she hated all men, starting with her ex-husband. Well, I hope this poor sod can understand what she says to him. It’s more than I can, half the time. Who is he? Anybody we know?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. She doesn’t talk to me about things like that. She just mentioned it to Ingrid the other day.’

  Duggie spared a thought for the lucky man. He’d need a
ll the luck he could get. ‘I think I had better have a word with her about this clothing business. Where is she now?’ This time Mo’s reply raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  ‘She’s through there doing client questionnaires.’

  ‘Doing what?’ Duggie could not believe his ears. Mo gave him an answering look which spoke volumes. ‘She waits outside the doors of the rooms with a clipboard and asks the Joe…clients questions. You know, Was everything to your satisfaction? Or, Have you any suggestions for ways in which we can improve the service we offer?’ She gave Duggie a sour look. ‘The only suggestions so far have been for the old bag with the clipboard to get lost.’

  Gritting his teeth, Duggie pushed the door open and set off down the corridor.

  Chapter 43

  When he got home that night, Tina could immediately see that he had had a bad day at the office and did her best to put on a cheerful front.

  ‘Hi, babe. Good day at work?’ All she got in reply was a grunt, so she headed for the drinks cabinet. She poured a stiff Scotch and pressed it into his unresisting hand.

  ‘Not so good, eh?’ Perching on the arm of the armchair beside him, she set about cheering him up. Her approach tonight was psychological, rather than physical. ‘Linda tells me the club looks great, all ready for the grand opening tomorrow. Is that what’s worrying you, darling?’

  He took a sip on the whisky. Then he set it down beside him and started to tell her what, or rather who, was the source of his concern.

  ‘It’s that damn woman. In the short time she has been working there, she has managed to get up the nose of every single person who works in the Salon. Even Rocky was in tears today, because she was unkind to him.’

  ‘Oh bless. The poor lamb.’ Tina, like the other girls, had a soft spot for the gentle giant.

  ‘Do you know what she has done now? She has produced a questionnaire for clients to fill out as they finish their sessions. There are boxes to tick and multiple choice questions. She’s asking stuff like, Has this been a meaningful sensory experience?. Then there’s Did you or your hostess use any external aids? Please supply details. Hostess, for Christ’s sake? What is this, a bloody airline?’

  As he said it, he remembered something Mo had told him a few weeks back. One of their clients had a penchant for what he called ‘mile-high sex’. This involved squeezing into a cupboard with Ingrid. Seeing as she was almost six feet tall, and he little over five, the logistics had been eye-watering. Not for the first time, Duggie shook his head wearily at the eccentricities of his fellow man.

  Tina could see how upset he was. She considered sliding across onto his lap, but decided this was not the moment. She thought it better to let him get it out of his system.

  ‘So now I’ve got that bloody woman lurking around outside the rooms with a clipboard, annoying everybody. The girls are up in arms. A number of clients have told Mo they are seriously considering whether they will ever return, if this kind of thing continues.’ He was furious. ‘And now it seems she is using the girls’ clothes and…’ he hesitated, ‘things.’

  Tina was appalled. Not that the manager would want to use the accoutrements of a brothel. That was her own business. No, it was the fact that her Duggie, the man who had swept her off her feet by asking her if she wanted a shag, was so depressed that he could not even bring himself to talk to her about naughty, sexy things any more. It was worse than she had thought.

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for, Duggie? Just close the place down. When it’s closed she can say what she likes about it. It won’t make any difference.’

  ‘That’s what I’d dearly like to do, just to get her off my back. I don’t need her any more now.’ He was talking through gritted teeth. ‘But she’s got me over a barrel and she knows it. Today I had to speak to her about her using some of the girls’ clothes. She more or less told me that she would wear what she bloody well chose to wear.’ He was fuming. ‘The problem is Roger. I just know that she’ll scream blue murder once she knows she’s out of a job. And her first act of spite will be to head straight for Roger and drop me in it, up to my neck.’

  ‘Well, the answer’s easy, Duggie. Go and tell him. Tell him now. You two go way back. Tell him what you did and tell him the Salon’s closing down. He’ll forgive you, I know he will.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘I would. And, anyway, it’s not as if you’ve been doing anything illegal. Or lining your own pockets.’

  ‘It’s not a question of money, sweetheart. The accounts are all white as driven snow. It’s a question of trust. You were right all along. It was just plain stupid of me. But would I listen? Nope, a little voice in my head kept egging me on, just like it’s always done. I’ve brought it upon myself.’

  Tina and he had been to a University Players version of Othello a few weeks back. She now had a sudden vision of Duggie in the role. It wasn’t pretty. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug.

  ‘Duggie, if it’s just Roger you’re worried about, then go and talk to him. He knows you inside and out. I wouldn’t mind betting he knows all about that wicked little voice in your head. She squeezed him tightly. ‘You can’t be blackmailed by that awful manager of yours. Go and see Roger, get it out in the open. Then kick her out on her big fat backside.’

  Duggie looked up at her.

  ‘I’ve been trying to find the right time to talk to him for a few days now. You’re right, Tina. I know you’re right.’

  ‘Well, just do it. You’ll see. Things won’t be as bad as you think.’

  He looked across at her warmly. With her support, he knew what he had to do. And her support counted for a lot. She was so very much more than just a lovely body. He pulled her head towards him and kissed her with feeling.

  ‘Tina, darling, you really know the way to a man’s heart.’ She smiled back, relieved and delighted to see him looking more cheerful.

  ‘You see, it’s not necessarily only through his trousers.’ She reached for him. ‘Although that method is by far the most direct.’

  Chapter 44

  The next day, however, Duggie found himself too busy to find the time to have his talk with Roger. He justified it to himself as it being because of the grand opening but, deep inside, he knew he was struggling to find the courage to confess.

  Opening day for the country club turned out to be a great success. Duggie’s campaign of posters and leaflets delivered door to door and, in particular, an interview on prime-time local television, recorded a few days previously, brought the punters in from all around the county. The fact that the lady interviewer had then spent an enjoyable afternoon with Sindy and Mindy, and had had to be helped back to her car afterwards, was not reported.

  The car park was full by eleven o’clock. The free buffet lunch was already being plundered by a quarter to twelve. The chefs and the serving staff were in a blind panic, but Duggie was riotously happy. He did not care how many came, as long as lots of people came. And come they certainly did.

  Free access to the squash and tennis courts brought them in by the dozen. More than anything, however, the free use of the golf course was an out and out winner. The first tee saw a non-stop procession of would-be golfers, driving off with varying degrees of success. The queue continued throughout the whole day. By evening, almost three hundred people had played the course. The bar in the ballroom was packed out with hopefuls. There was great excitement as the results of the Nearest to the Pin competition were announced. By the end of the evening, it was calculated that less than a third of a barrel of beer remained on the premises. As Duggie checked the bar take, he whistled with pleasure. It had actually turned over even more than the Salon!

  The only cloud on the horizon was his forthcoming conversation, more of a confession, with Roger. That and the even larger black cloud, named Rachel Turner.

  Roger, now getting a bit better on his crutches, had participated in much of the day. By teatime, however, he had taken refuge in his study. He was still there when Lind
a came looking for him around eight-thirty. Unable to sit on his lap, for fear of disturbing his poor hurt ankle, she squatted on the floor at his feet, with her chin on his thigh. She told him how it had all gone.

  ‘Duggie was magnificent.’ She was delighted their friend had been so successful. ‘He had the whole audience rolling in the aisles while he was announcing the winners of the raffle. The winner of the ladies’ squash tournament almost ate him when she kissed him. The tills were rattling all day. The girls in Reception said they took almost a hundred membership applications in the course of the day. I think it is fair to say that Toplingham Country Club is here to stay.’ She beamed up at him and added, ‘As are we.’

  He looked down at her and ran his hand over her hair. She was, without doubt, the most wonderful woman in the world, and he was totally unworthy of her love. Sensing his emotion, she reached up and kissed him. As her arms clasped round his neck, she heard a creak from the direction of the door. She spun round in sudden alarm. The thought of an assassin lurking in the background was an ever-present fear these days. This time there was nothing to worry about. Nothing, unless you were afraid of a seven stone dog hurtling towards you. Jasper, excited to catch her down at floor level for a change, wiped her out. They rolled cheerfully on the floor for some moments before he regained his composure, and she managed to pick herself up. Roger loved the two of them.

  Seconds later, a discreet cough from the direction of the door announced the arrival of Henri with a little snack. Aware that Roger had not eaten since lunch, he had taken the liberty of preparing a little something for him and, perhaps, something for mademoiselle as well. A tray with two steaming bowls of soup and some appetizing-looking avocado and chicken sandwiches were placed onto the desk. Seconds later, he was gone.

  ‘I’ll never be able to live up to Henri, you know.’ She was back at his side.

  ‘Don’t worry. He’s useless in bed.’