Lasting Scars

by Lenny Brando

  Alice waved away a cloud of blue smoke and leaned into Kasper. “Did she ask for me?”

  He nodded. “Yes. She wants to see you. You’ll regret it if you don't.”

  47

  Cole drank coffee in a restaurant called Sunny’s, with a carry bag at his feet. Fifteen minutes had passed since he spoke to Birdy, and Birdy still hadn’t called back with the promised update.

  His phone buzzed before he ran out of patience, and he almost dropped it when he swiped the screen to take the call. “Well? What did he say?”

  “He said there were no viewings booked today. So I said I’d meet him in his office in about 30 minutes.”

  “And it was Flanagan you spoke to?”

  Birdy laughed. “Yeah. Mark Flanagan. Sounded like a stupid prick.”

  “Know what you mean.” Cole glanced around the cafe and lowered his voice. “Flanagan told me the girl was in Copenhagen and the guy was away on business. Did he say anything about them? Like, are they still away?”

  “I asked him if it was vacant possession and he said it wasn’t. They haven’t moved out yet. Then I asked if it would it be possible to view it with the occupiers present and he said no. Like you said, he may be a stupid prick, but at least he’s a talkative stupid prick.”

  “So, I’m good to go?”

  “Yeah. Reckon you’ve got at least 45 minutes. Enough to jerk into her undies.”

  Cole scowled. “Fuck you and all.”

  Outside the coffee shop, Cole took a high vis vest and a hard hat from the carry bag. Then he pulled on a pair of tight-fitting gloves. Looking much like a construction worker with a bag of tools, he strode down the street towards the house. He fingered the keys in his pocket, wondering what part of Scully he'd shove them into if they didn’t work. When he got to the front door, he pressed the doorbell as a precaution.

  He glanced up and down the street. The occasional pedestrian walked by on the path behind him. None as much as glanced his way. He counted to twenty, then slipped the first key into the latch. He tried to turn it, but it wouldn't move. With a deft move, he tried the other key. Same result. Shit. He knew he shouldn’t, but he looked behind again to check no-one watched. Shit. He switched keys again. He jiggled it and thought he felt movement. When he pulled it out a fraction and jiggled again, it seemed to catch. He squinted and twisted the key. Then the lock turned.

  He stepped in and shut the door. The low beeping of the alarm echoed around the hall. At the control panel, he held his breath as he punched in 8294. When the beeping stopped, his shoulders relaxed and he let out a sigh. He separated the dud key from the good key and put it in his back pocket.

  Cole checked every room downstairs, even the cupboard beneath the stairs, ensuring no surprises lurked, then he hurried up the stairs and entered each room, leaving the main bedroom until last.

  Satisfied he was alone, he went to work. First, he located the wireless router under the hall table, and using his phone, photographed the connection code printed on the rear. Back upstairs, he went into the office, reached into his bag and removed a small wireless camera along with some tools.

  He examined the camera again. It looked like an alarm motion sensor and should go unnoticed. It contained a micro SD card, and recorded files when it sensed motion.

  He set up the wireless connection from the camera to the router in the hallway using the code he’d photographed. Then he tested it on his phone app and confirmed it worked. As long as the camera remained connected to the router, he could download recorded footage via the app.

  Cole stood by the main bedroom door and studied the walls. The best vantage point would be in the corner above him. He dragged a chair in from the office and stood on it. Using a handheld drill and a wall plug, he screwed a holding bracket into the corner. Then he switched the camera on and fixed it into the bracket. He fiddled with his phone and opened the new app. Several seconds later, an image of the bedroom showed on his phone. Yes. Get in there.

  He wandered around the bedroom and pushed the ensuite door. It squeaked as he opened it. He whistled as he looked about. Then he regretted not getting a second camera for the bathroom, but a motion detector in a bathroom would be too out of place.

  Back in the bedroom, he pulled open a drawer of neatly folded tops and T-shirts. Another held accessories, bands, belts and pendants. The next had bras, and the last contained a myriad of underwear. He pulled several out, removed a glove and felt them with his hands. Cotton and silk. Thongs and panties. He brought a pair to his nose and smelled them. Fabric conditioner. He selected a bottle of perfume from the table and sprayed it over the underwear in his hand. He sniffed again. Better.

  Even though he knew he was alone, he glanced around. Then feeling like a pervert, he shoved the underwear back and shut the drawer.

  Over by the bed, he switched on the clock radio and snorted at the high volume. Alice must be a heavy sleeper or had crap hearing. The sound grated, and he switched it off. He reached for the drawer in the bedside table, but as he went to open it, a chill ran down his spine. The doorbell rang. Who the...?

  Then the hall door opened. He stopped dead and checked the time. Shit. He’d been in the house over an hour. Voices drifted from the hall. Cole hurried out of the bedroom and ducked into the office. Then he remembered he’d left the chair and his bag in the bedroom. Shit again. He listened to the voices. “Hello? Anyone home? This is Mark from Beauchamps Estates. I’m here with a client. Hello?”

  A girl giggled. “No-one’s here, Marky. They must have forgotten to set the alarm is all.”

  “Shh, Hannah.” Then louder. “Hello?”

  Hannah shouted, “Is there anybody here?” A moment’s silence followed, and Hannah’s giggles broke it. “See,” she said. “We’re all alone.”

  “Yeah, wanna make sure that idiot who booked the viewing didn't show up here.”

  “Why? He doesn't have a key. Right?”

  “I know. Gonna check anyway. Then we can have our fun.”

  Cole heard doors open and close downstairs. Then footsteps sounded on the stairs. “This turns me on,” Hannah said. “Oooh. I’m so wet and horny Marky, I’m gonna have to change my undies.”

  “Come on,” Flanagan laughed. “Let’s have ‘em off in their bedroom.”

  Cole looked around the office. Flanagan would check the upstairs rooms like he had done downstairs. Fuck this. The wardrobe was his only hope. He slipped in, taking care to make no noise. He pulled the doors over and hid behind the hanging dresses. With each rapid breath he took, the sweet scent of Alice Madsen filled his nostrils. But the smell soured in the face of the hammering in his chest and the growing sheen of sweat that covered him.

  He could hear the girl giggling outside on the landing, and he peered through the crack in the doors. The second bedroom door opened. Then the main bathroom. He heard the thump of approaching footsteps. Through the gap, he saw Flanagan enter the office, look around and leave.

  Their voices carried from the main bedroom. “I want you to fuck me so hard, Marky. But first I gotta pee.” The ensuite door creaked.

  Cole stood upright in the wardrobe for several minutes, then he heard more giggles followed by the swish of falling clothes. Although this wasn't the field test he’d imagined, he pulled out his phone, tapped on it and brought up the view of the camera he’d installed. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help but grin. He watched them throw the last of their clothes to the floor. Hannah was a fit bird. Although on closer inspection, she was a hairy one. Her dark bush was like an overgrown privet hedge in need of a serious cutback. He hoped Alice would have more class.

  Hannah grabbed Flanagan by the balls and pulled him towards the chair. She sat down and stuffed his cock into her mouth. Cole grinned further as he saw he packed more punch than Flanagan. Then Hannah pushed him away and ran from the room.

  Cole peeked through the crack between the wardrobe doors. To his horror, she ran into the office and turned around to face the pursuing Flanagan.
He jumped on her and the two of them fell against the wardrobe, rocking it. Cole had to steady himself with one hand. She laughed and wriggled free from his grasp and out of Cole’s view.

  “Come on then, Stud Boy. Your turn. Eat me.”

  “Eew. No way. You just had a piss.”

  “So what?”

  “It will be, like, all over you down below.”

  “I’ll use their shower.”

  “No way. It’s bad enough we’re doing it in their house.”

  “You’re no fun. You gotta take a risk or two. Makes me hornier. Anyway, no one’s caught us yet.”

  “Be quick. Okay? Then I’ll eat you out.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Come on, Stud Boy. You’re coming with me.”

  He saw them flash by in a blur of pale flesh. A moment later, the shower started. Again, he went to his phone and tapped through to the camera view. The bedroom was empty. Good, he thought. That meant they were at it in the bathroom. He opened the wardrobe door with care. A smart guy would leg it. But he wanted his tool bag.

  Cole crept into the bedroom and gathered his bag. Then he slipped down into the hall. As he quietly closed the front door, he guessed Flanagan would be too occupied to notice the tool bag had disappeared from the bedroom.

  Cole grinned. When he had put some distance between himself and the house, he stopped and opened the phone app to view the camera he had just installed in the bedroom. It now had a great view of naked little hottie Hannah lying on the bed. She spread her legs and pushed Flanagan’s head between them. Cole’s whistling grew louder as he watched Flanagan deliver on his promise. A few minutes later, he saw Flanagan with his hands around Hannah’s throat, humping for England and choking the bitch while her nails raked down his back. Way to go Flanagan. Get in there.

  Then Cole wondered whether Flanagan had any money. Shagging on a client’s bed and using their shower would be a sackable offence. Flanagan must get off on the extra excitement. Hey Mark? Can I interest you in buying a video?

  48

  Alice hesitated outside the Centre for Cancer and Health on Nørre Allé. Old fears and anxieties surfaced and made her question the decision to see her mother after so many years of strained distance. It would be easy to turn around and go elsewhere, but she needed to stop hiding from problems, so she sighed and kept going.

  Inside the hospital, she followed the directions from reception to her mother’s room with reluctant feet. It would have been good to have Connie by her side, encouraging her, supporting her and enabling a sudden change in relationship from subordinate child to equivalent adult.

  Then she remembered something Connie had told her, that there comes a time in most lives when people must do something for themselves and rely on their own resources. Many times they realise they were capable all along and that it was only fear that held them back. Now, as Alice thought of Connie’s advice, she upped her pace and lifted her head higher.

  At first, she thought she had the wrong room. The woman shrivelled in the bed had a gaunt and yellowing face beneath an oxygen mask. When the woman turned to Alice, she blinked several times and removed the mask. The motion was slow, as if it took great effort and care to avoid pulling on the tube connected to her arm. The woman blinked again, and the hint of a smile crossed her thin lips.

  “Mama?”

  Her mother reached out a frail hand and Alice took it. The hand was cold, the skin wrinkled and blotched. “Alice. Alice. I’m so glad you came.” Alice pulled over a chair with her free hand and leaned in closer. Her mother’s voice was low and raspy, but she looked into Alice’s eyes as if a little of her fierce determination remained.

  “How are…Sorry. That’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

  Her mother squeezed Alice’s hand, but the touch was light. “No, Alice. I’m sorry.” She wheezed and with her other hand, she put the mask to her face for several breaths, then spoke again. “I can’t talk for long. It hurts. But I’ve been waiting to say sorry for a while. But I should have said it sooner, before this… this cancer.”

  “It’s okay mama. We don't have to…”

  She shook her head a little and waved the oxygen mask. “I didn't believe you. You were such a drama queen when you were young. Always looking for attention. I was…” She rasped and took more oxygen. “…wrong. I was wrong, Alice.”

  “About what?”

  “You know what I mean. I knew Thorsten’s father, you see. We were close.” She looked away from Alice and stared at the ceiling. “Closer than we should have been. He helped with things. Money mostly.” She coughed once, then several times in quick succession.

  “Why? What do you mean?” Alice looked into her mother’s eyes, but her mother didn't return the gaze.

  “It doesn't matter anymore.” She took her hand from Alice and groped at a box of tissues. Alice went to help her, but her mother brushed her away. “He’s dead now. I think.” She wiped her mouth with a tissue and coughed again.

  Alice brushed her hair back from her forehead. “What about Thorsten?”

  “I don’t know. I lost contact with them soon after.” Her voice went low and she rasped more. “Things… they said things.”

  “What things?”

  She turned to Alice and looked into her eyes. “Just things. It’s too late for that now, but maybe it’s not too late for us?”

  “And Thorsten’s friend? Jesper? What about him, mama?”

  “I don't know him.”

  Alice tightened her lips and dug her fingers into her thigh. “You put another family ahead of your own.”

  Her mother turned her head as if she couldn't bear to see the pain in Alice’s face. “I thought I did the right thing.”

  “How could you think that?”

  “I have no answer.”

  “Do you believe me now?”

  Her mother moved her head as if to nod, but she coughed, and her body spasmed. She sucked on the mask and coughed into it. In between coughing fits, she wiped her mouth again. She covered the tissue with her hand and reached out to Alice. The tissue dropped from her weak grip, and it fell to the ground beside the bed.

  Alice bent over to pick it up, but when she saw the blood stains, she left it where it was and pulled a fresh tissue from the box.

  Her mother coughed again. “Please… Alice.” Her voice was broken and low. “Forgive me. I’m so… so sorry.” She sucked at the mask once more, but her cough worsened. “Forgive us all.”

  A nurse hurried in, pressed buttons on a machine, then strapped the mask to Alice’s mother’s face. “Your mother can’t talk much anymore. It’s difficult for her. I’ll give her something to help.”

  Alice got to her feet while the nurse fiddled with the equipment. She caught her mother’s eyes, and for a moment she thought she saw tears, but it could have been a rheumy effect.

  When she glanced back from the door, her mother looked to be sleeping.

  49

  Cole took a can of lager from his fridge, looked at it, then put it back. Once more, he glanced at the time. He walked into the lounge and counted out £150 in notes for the third time. Then he stuffed the money into the back pocket of his jeans.

  He stepped into the bedroom and made sure it looked tidy. The buzzer sounded and he gave a start. The live view from the camera in the hall showed a girl at his door. He flexed his fingers, cleared his throat and opened the door.

  She was a dyed blonde, but Cole could live with that. While not the best looking bird in London, given the circumstances, Cole thought she was all right. She’d do. “Uh, hi,” he said. “Come in.”

  Cole brought her into the lounge. “I’m Lewis, but people call me Coley.”

  “I’m Trixie.”

  “Seriously?”

  She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. “What do you think, huh?”

  “Can I call you Alice?”

  “Sure. Whatever.” She stuck out her hand.

  Cole took the notes
from his pocket and counted the money into her grasping palm.

  She opened her bag and shoved the money to the bottom. In doing so, she pulled a can of pepper spray from the depths and waved it at Cole. “No rough stuff. Okay? There’s a minder outside, and if I’m not down in an hour, he comes up. If I come down hurt, he comes up. Any funny shit, he comes up.” She put the mace back into her bag. “You don't want him coming up.”

  Cole winced. “What’s funny stuff?”

  “What you got in mind?”

  He shrugged. “Just, you know…”

  “Out with it. I don't bite. That’s extra.”

  She didn't smile, and Cole couldn't figure out whether she was taking the piss. “I have this thing, I like to tie a girl up while I’m uh, shagging.”

  “No way. I don't know you.”

  “Can we pretend?”

  “Pretend? With what?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  In the bedroom, Cole pulled four Velcro straps from a drawer. “Tell you what uh, Alice, I’ll only close three. I’ll leave one wrist free.”

  “You like your kinky shit, huh?”

  Cole grinned. “Yeah. I guess I do. You okay with it then?”

  She nodded and began to undress. “Let’s get down to it. Clock’s ticking.”

  Ten minutes later, Cole had her tied naked to the four corners of the bed, with the strap on one wrist loop open. He knelt over her and stared at the sight. His cock throbbed within the tight confines of the condom, and he feared he would let himself go too soon. He slid his hands over her body, lay on top and slipped inside her.

  “God, Alice. I want you. I want to fuck your brains out.”

  “Yes. Fuck me.”

  “Call me Coley. And beg me to fuck you. Say I love you Coley. Please fuck me. Please.”

  “Whatever. All right. Fuck me, Coley, fuck me. Um, please.”

  “Like you mean it. Like you mean it.”

  “Give me another twenty.”

  “All right. But after.”

  She smiled like she meant it and put urgency into her voice. “That’s it. Fuck me, Coley. Please, please fuck me. God yes. You're so good. The best I’ve ever had. You can fuck me forever. Biggest cock I ever had. Oh yes, Coley. Please give me more.”