Tattoo

by J G Alva

  “Ellie,” Sutton said, with some force. “When you’re done ridiculing Dr. Sails, can we get back to Jessica Leonard please.”

  “I’m alright,” Robin said, and smiled brightly for Ellie. “I found what Miss Mason had to say…very illuminating.”

  The two women smiled at each other, but there was no warmth there.

  Ellie reached for another cigarette from the cabinet drawer, and they all waited for her to light it, before she continued.

  “I met Jessica towards the end of that time when, for one reason or another, things were winding down.”

  “Had she been doing it for long before she was attacked?”

  Ellie smiled slyly.

  “Are you afraid to say what she was doing? Oh Sutton. I didn’t think you were shy.”

  Sutton grunted.

  “I was trying to think of a nice way to put it, but couldn’t.”

  “Oh, come now.”

  “How would you put it?”

  Ellie thought, a manicured finger tapping her bottom lip. Her lipstick was fire engine red, and matched the painted nail.

  “Proprietorial lust?” Ellie offered with humour.

  “Right. Had Jessica been providing proprietorial lust for long when she was attacked?”

  Ellie took a long drag on her cigarette, was pensive.

  “Am I going to get her in trouble if I tell you?” She asked, her eyes flicking briefly to Robin.

  “The police already know, so I don’t see how,” Sutton said.

  “Well,” Ellie said, and then paused. “The police don’t know everything.”

  Sutton felt his heartbeat quicken.

  “Like what?”

  “Well.” And here Ellie paused again. She frowned pleasantly. “Why am I telling you this? Just refresh my memory.”

  “Because of my sparkling wit and charm,” Sutton offered.

  Ellie smiled, taking a drag on her cigarette.

  Sutton sighed, and then looked at Robin.

  “There’s been some murders in Bristol,” he said. “Three victims so far. All abducted, killed, and then dumped a week later.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “All with their heads cut off.”

  Ellie had a hand to her throat, almost as if she was imagining herself at the hands of such a fate. She stared at Sutton.

  “And you’re trying to find this man-“

  Sutton nodded.

  “Yes. Robin’s sister was abducted five days ago. Which is why we are here talking to you so early in the morning.”

  “Of course,” Ellie said, moving automatically to the armchair opposite him and stubbing out her half smoke cigarette in the ashtray. “Of course.”

  “So what do you know that the police don’t?” Sutton asked.

  Ellie made a face.

  “Unfortunately, not the identity of the man who attacked her,” she said. “I didn’t know the man, it was Jessica who set it up herself, but obviously there were things too sensitive for the police to hear. That I was involved in what she did, for one. That she did that sort of thing at all, for another. We didn’t want the police digging too deeply.”

  “But they already knew she was a prostitute.”

  Ellie wrinkled her nose.

  “An exaggeration, on their part. She was arrested for Soliciting the year before.”

  “So did Jessica know him?” Sutton asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ellie admitted. “We didn’t speak of it much. I was angry she hadn’t gone through me, if she wanted more work, and she was sorry she hadn’t, so there was nothing to talk about really. They think it’s the same man?”

  “Enough to bother looking into it again,” Sutton said. “Obviously the attempted decapitation is provocative.”

  Ellie stared at the carpet, her eyes far away.

  “She showed me the scar,” she said, her eyes coming back to Sutton. One hand went to her throat again. “It was horrible. That pretty neck…She was lucky to be alive.”

  “Do you know where she is now? I know the police are having trouble locating her.”

  Ellie pulled her feet up under her. She lit another cigarette, her arm cocked to one side as the smoke crawled slowly from her mouth.

  “That’s because she got married,” she said. “Ooh, about six years ago now. Can you believe I wasn’t invited to the wedding? Some people.”

  Ellie seemed amused.

  “Do you know her married name?” Sutton asked, leaning forward in his seat.

  “Sure,” Ellie said, lifting one shoulder. “Redding. And I’ve got her last address, if you want it. I don’t know if she’s still living there, after all this time, I haven’t checked, but if you want it you can have it.”

  Sutton smiled.

  “I want it.”

  *

  Walking up the road from Ellie’s house, Robin did not say anything.

  She seemed lost in thought, and Sutton did not disturb such serious reverie.

  When he had managed to negotiate his car out of the tight parking spot they had found on the next street over from Manilla Road, Robin said suddenly, “how do you know her?”

  There was a tone in her voice, and it amused Sutton.

  “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask me.”

  “Alright.” She gave him a challenging look. “Have you and Miss Mason ever-“

  “No.” He looked at her; she didn’t quite believe him. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  Robin paused.

  “Why not?” And before he could answer, Robin continued, “she likes you. She made that pretty obvious.”

  “I think she liked both of us,” Sutton said with humour.

  A ripple of disgust passed over Robin’s features.

  “I’d be interested to hear your clinical opinion of her,” Sutton said.

  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  Sutton was silent for a moment, thinking.

  “There’s something…not right with her.”

  “She’s an attractive woman. Very attractive.”

  “I mean, inside. In her head. It’s hard to put my finger on what it is. It’s like…something in her has gone sour. And if I’m perfectly honest, there’s an attractiveness in that, in its own way. You heard her tonight. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do, if you wanted her to do it.” Sutton paused. “It would be a destructive impulse that would lead you to her bed. And that kind of psychological fracture, to me, is an unattractive as a harelip.”

  Robin stared at him, and then looked out of the passenger window.

  “I’d probably characterise her as an addictive personality,” Robin said eventually. “Except sex is her drug of choice. She admitted as much herself. And it’s been woven into her character from an early age. The last of five sisters, I could imagine their being a familial deficiency – probably from her father. And as soon as she was able, or aware of it, every major beneficial change in her life has been initiated or sanctioned by sex. She likes the sex, but she likes the power more. It’s hardly a new story. I just wonder how she’d react to a situation she couldn’t sleep her way to controlling.”

  “Quite poorly, I’d imagine,” Sutton replied.

  *

  Jessica Leonard still lived at the address in Bedminster that Ellie had provided them with, much to their surprise, in a small two bedroom house on a quiet residential street not far from a large Asda, and only a few streets away from the river.

  It was not yet five o’ clock in the morning when she answered the door, in an imitation silk Kimono. She was a small, delicate blonde woman with good bones in her face, a pointed chin, a thin blade of nose with pinched nostrils. Sutton couldn’t help thinking she fits his type, and wondered if Robin was thinking the same.

  In the crook of her arm, a miserable red faced child was crying with gusto.

  “Who are you?” She asked through the crack in the door. Sensibly, she had left the chain on.

  “Who is it, honey?” A man called, from further ba
ck in the house.

  “Eleanor Mason told us we might be able to find you here,” Sutton said delicately.

  Jessica stared at him. She looked angry, he thought. The baby was crying, and almost unconsciously she began to rock back and forth to soothe it.

  “Police?”

  Sutton shook his head.

  “No.”

  “Then who are you? I don’t understand.”

  “Jess?” The male voice said, closer, concerned.

  A man appeared behind her, a little taller than she was, with a mild friendly face and the beginnings of a receding hairline. They both looked tired.

  “Who are you?” He asked, vaguely alarmed.

  “We need to talk to Jessica about the time she was attacked,” Sutton explained, mindful that there may be secrets here that he had no wish to expose.

  They both stared at Sutton, and then Jessica passed the baby to the man.

  “Can you take her?” She said. “See if she’ll go back to sleep. If she’s not better in the next hour – if they’re both not – we’ll call the doctor.”

  The man took the baby but didn’t move for a moment, merely stared at Sutton and Robin. He knows, Sutton thought.

  Then he was gone.

  “Hang on,” she said, shutting the door on them; they heard the rattle of the chain as it was taken off, and then the door opened again, and Jessica stepped back and ushered them in. She shut the door quietly behind them.

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Jessica said, leading them down the hall and into the Kitchen. “We’ve all been up half the night. Karen’s been throwing up and Sarah has diarrhea. So it’s not a happy household.” She gave them a wry, tired smile. “The joys of motherhood. Please. Sit. Would you like a drink?”

  “We don’t want to trouble you,” Sutton said, looking around the Kitchen; but they were already troubled. The place was in disarray: cups and towels and tissues littered every available surface, washing up filled the kitchen sink, the chairs had been pulled out from under the large dining table that took up the centre of the room and lay all about the floor space. Jessica began scooping everything up, and pushing the chairs under the table as she went.

  “Probably best not to have a drink,” Jessica said, putting the cups in the sink and the tissues in the bin underneath it. “At least not until I’ve had a chance to disinfect the place.”

  “You have just the two children?” Robin asked, her hands held out at her sides as if afraid to touch anything.

  “Two’s enough,” Jessica said.

  When Jessica had restored some semblance of order, she leaned against the counter by the sink, brushing back her tangled hair, crossed her arms over her chest, and gave them her attention.

  “So,” she said. “How’s Ellie?”

  “The same,” Sutton remarked.

  “You’ve known her for long?”

  “Six years, off and on.”

  “Well, then you know she never changes. We used to call her the Duchess, you know. All of us. Behind her back. But she looked after us.”

  Sutton eyes flicked upstairs.

  “If this is a bad time…”

  “David knows,” she said. Her stare was angry, challenging. “David knows everything.”

  Sutton nodded.

  With her hair pulled back, Sutton could see the scar across her throat, a line of white puckered skin that started somewhere just below her left ear, dipped down close to her collarbone in the middle, and then rose again on the other side to her other ear.

  Jessica caught him looking at it, and a hand automatically went to cover it.

  “A war wound,” she remarked, with bitter humour.

  “It looks like it hurt,” Robin said.

  “Not at the time,” Jessica said thoughtfully. “But afterward, it got infected. I don’t know what he used, it might even have been garden shears, but with springs and things attached to it, but whatever it was, he didn’t keep it clean. It was sore for weeks. I had to take three different types of antibiotics to finally get rid of the infection.” She stared at both of them in turn. “Who are you people? You’re friends of Ellie’s, fine, that got you in the door, but I need to know why you are here if you want anything more from me.”

  “My name is Sutton Mills, and this is Dr Robin Sails.”

  Jessica nodded at them both.

  “Five days ago, Dr Sails’ sister was abducted, it is believed by the same man who is responsible for three other murders. All three victims had been decapitated.” He indicated her scar. “Seven years ago, something similar happened to you. Which is why we’re here.”

  “But you’re not police.”

  “No,” Sutton admitted.

  “Then who are you?”

  “I’m…like a consultant,” Sutton explained. “I get involved from time to time, if I’m needed. If the police can’t do any more, if nobody can help, then people can come to me, and I’ll take a look and see if I can do anything.”

  Jessica stared at him.

  “I have to admit, that’s very strange. A curious profession.”

  Sutton shrugged.

  “Stranger than sitting behind a desk your whole life, working for other people?”

  Jessica smiled slightly.

  “Alright. But it’s certainly got to be more dangerous.”

  Sutton conceded that point with a nod.

  “Is there anything you can tell us about your attacker that will help us find him? He may not be the man, but it’s worth a look.”

  Jessica shrugged.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much. He was tall, with short cut blonde hair. Well spoken; he’d had some education. I told the police all this.”

  “Still. I’d like to hear it from you.”

  She nodded.

  “He was an odd looking man,” she said thoughtfully, from the depths of her memory. “His face was almost…I don’t know. I wouldn’t say devoid of emotion. It was just…” She thought. “There were no lines on it. He was in his early twenties then, so you wouldn’t expect many lines, but his face was almost like that of a child’s. Do you know what I mean? You get wear and tear on your face from living. They tell a story. Lines at the corners of your eyes mean you smile a lot. Lines bracketing the edges of your mouth mean you laugh a lot. The neck usually goes first, at least on women, I think.” Jessica touched her throat again, but she seemed amused, of all things. “I got mine early. But this man…he had none of that. It was like he wasn’t living, and it kept him young, his features young.”

  Sutton felt a tingle of excitement; Mike had said the same thing. No lines.

  “What else?”

  “He called himself Guy,” she said. “But apparently that wasn’t his real name. At least, the police never found any Guy to fit that description. I assumed they looked at most Guys in the Bristol area. I never heard anything from them to say that they’d found him.”

  “How did it work? Did he contact you or…?”

  “There was no set way. Not the way we were doing things back then. I mean, we ran with Ellie, she could throw things our way, but we basically did whatever we wanted. You have to know how it was. We were all just stupid, just stupid little girls, with mature bodies but with immature minds. I was like that, then. I grew up rich, can you believe it? You wouldn’t think so, looking around, but my family were incredibly wealthy. My father was very high up in Lloyds TSB. I mean, almost right at the top. And my mother’s family were already very wealthy anyway. They were somehow connected with Ladbrokes, I don’t remember how now. Shareholders? I don’t talk to them anymore, what with one thing and another. And, well…I have a family of my own now.” Jessica looked upset for a moment, as if puzzling over something unresolved, and then shook herself. “Not that it was a bad upbringing, mind you. I look back now and try to work out how I managed to go off the rails so spectacularly, but it’s all a bit foggy in my head. Like it happened to somebody else, in another time, another life. I was a different person then. I was mean
, and selfish, and spoilt. My father didn’t like me, and I don’t blame him really; there wasn’t much to like. But I was forever trying to win him over. I suppose, when I couldn’t, I went on to other men, who were so much easier to impress, with my body, my looks. I hardly had to do a thing. It was sheer decadence, pure indulgence. I did to them what I had never been able to do to my father, and it gave me such pleasure: I made them plead for me, made them beg for just a moment of my time, my affection. I tortured them all, and delighted in doing it.

  “I knew about Ellie, what she did – everyone did, in our circles. We used to joke that it was the worst kept secret in Bristol. She was whispered about at dinner parties; a real scarlet woman of our times. It seemed like the biggest kick of all to charge men money for what I could give them, the biggest joke. And the fact that I didn’t really need the money…Well, that was the biggest joke of all. Oh, I was terrible. A terrible little girl. But probably not much different from hundreds of other spoilt, pretty girls across the country.

  “Until, of course, I met David.”

  “Your husband?”

  They were off the beaten track, but Sutton knew that sometimes you had to let them get to it in their own time, or you might not get anything at all. He wanted to look at his watch but dared not; the moment Jessica suspected that they were uninterested in her story, she would shut up.

  “Yes. I was out in Bristol one night, in a pub in Clifton. This was perhaps eight months after I was attacked. I know what you’re thinking; I can see it on your faces. But the attack didn’t put me off. In fact, it strengthened my resolve to use as many men as I could, to coo and pat and love until they couldn’t do without me…and then to starve them of everything they had come to need, to cut them off completely. So, I was out; I’d had a few drinks, was enjoying myself. I didn’t know if sex was on the cards, but that didn’t matter. Sometimes clients just liked to be seen with me on their arm. And I enjoyed being shown off. I was pretty. And what pretty girl doesn’t like attention? Anyway, purely by accident I bumped into a former client whom I had treated less than kindly. In a social environment like that, I suppose he thought it was more of a level playing field. He was a horrible little man, who had gotten used to indulging his pleasure, in everything, and he was already getting fat at twenty nine, was starting to lose his hair, was just basically very unpleasant all over. Especially when it came to a woman he couldn’t control. And a prostitute, no less. The lowest of the low. Oh, how his blood must have been boiling…”