Cuts Both Ways

by Solomon Carter

  Mark swivelled in his office chair and watched as Eva’s face started to show signs of the stress which was pouring into her ear down the phone line.

  “Why did you do that?” said Eva. “Were you going to run? What about your family?”

  Mark tried to keep up.

  “What about the threats?”

  Eva fell silent and Mark heard a flood of angst-ridden verbiage stream down the phone line.

  “No. I get that. I really do,” said Eva. “And yes, that’s extremely serious. And you’re sure it was a weapon, as opposed to any other kind of knife— It’s not a silly question, Lauren. We have to consider things as they are…”

  The voice grew louder, shriller.

  “Okay. You’re certain it was a weapon… So tell me, Lauren, you think it’s a weapon. You think he’s going to use it on you. You were in his car, you had the keys. So why the hell didn’t you run? You should have driven away right there and then, and all of this could be over.”

  Mark heard the other end of the line fall quiet. Eva looked up at him, nodding patiently as she listened.

  “You couldn’t take the risk…” said Eva. “But what about the risk posed to you, Lauren. What about the risk posed to your own life?”

  There was another silence.

  “Of course,” said Eva, after a moment. “Like you said, a weapon like that changes everything. No. No. I promised I would be there for you and I will be. Now can you manage without me this morning? Can you stay safe?”

  Another gap.

  “I have an appointment this morning,” Eva explained. “Then I promise you I’ll get together with you right after that. We’ll put our heads together and work out a plan. Until then stay calm, okay? Stay in the game. That’s all you’ve got to do, Lauren. Stay in the game.”

  Eva ended the call and put the mobile phone on her desk. She rubbed her forehead and blew out a long deep breath. Eventually her eyes settled back on Mark who was still watching her.

  “So,” said Eva, reading Mark’s mind. “Maybe I was wrong to think this is all trumped up melodrama on my friend’s part.”

  “Because she found a knife.”

  “Yes. Not just any knife, she says. A sharp army-type dagger. The kind of knife designed to kill a person. She found it stashed away in the car belonging to her controlling partner. I admit, I thought the guy sounded like a waste of space, but now it sounds like he might be a true psycho, which changes how I’ve got to approach the case. I can’t leave this thing to fester. If things are that bad, it’ll need a very close eye. I can’t risk Lauren’s life because our past got in the way.”

  “Is her life your responsibility, Eva?”

  “She was a friend, Mark. This really isn’t a standard case. And besides, I’ve already made a commitment to the woman. Maybe I overcommitted, but I’ll have to honour it. Let’s just hope that Joanne’s lead ends up easier than this one. I don’t think I can handle more than one psychodrama at a time.”

  “No,” said Mark, quietly. “I know what you mean… Eva, why didn’t Lauren drive away when she had the chance – just like you said?”

  “Because her partner has threatened to harm her family if she does. But there could be more to it than that. There often is. Abused women often stick with cruel men for some reason, don’t ask me why. That was one of the reasons I suspected we might never get paid from this. She may never leave him. But… after what she found in the car—”

  “If she was telling you the truth.”

  “I have no reason to doubt her, Mark… And I really can’t take that risk,” Eva replied. “She’s going to need someone’s help and I’ve already been hired to be that someone.”

  “It’s a sticky situation.”

  “A dagger in a violent abuser’s car? It’s worse than sticky, Mark. It sounds like things are reaching a very dangerous phase. There’s only one bright side in all of that.”

  “Which is?” said Mark.

  “If the case is about to blow, I might get to close it soon. And if it ends well, we get paid.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows. “Even now, you’re still prepared to risk your life just to get paid…”

  The light dimmed a fraction in Eva’s eyes. “I know. That’s been bothering me a lot lately. But tell me, Mark, what choice do we have? We all need to pay the bills.”

  Mark nodded.

  “We battle on, Mark, that’s what we do. And we do it the best we can. And sometimes we even do it with a smile on our faces.”

  Mark felt a hint of rebuke in Eva’s words and meekly turned away to face his screen. Behind him Eva looked out at the traffic over Mark’s shoulder. Joanne was always able to see the silver living in the midst of the danger, and now she was bringing in work too. Eva stopped herself from following that particular line of thought much further, because she was too polite to condemn Mark even in the privacy of her own mind. But the feelings lingered all the same. What did Mark bring to the party lately? It was hard to tell. Eva tried to quell the feeling, but it wouldn’t leave her easily. In the midst of all her stress, Mark had brought her face to face with the one big question she really didn’t want to face. Why. The answer was always the same. Because. Just because.

  The clock ticked on the wall behind her.

  Another job was coming. And then there was Lauren. One day at a time. One job at a time. One breath at a time.

  That was why. Because there was no other way.

  Three

  When Robert Poulter made his entrance into their office, Eva and Dan immediately saw he was a nervy looking guy. He was slightly stoop shouldered, and his little eyes flitted between them and Mark as if he was attending an interview for a job he didn’t want. Poulter had the kind of lank hair which would have looked better cut short, and had a five o’clock shadow showing on his angular jaw, the kind of stubble which never left no matter how many times the man shaved. Poulter wore a white shirt, open at the collar, which revealed a mossy mass of chest hair bursting up at his throat. He was just under six foot, wiry but broad shouldered, and if not for his nervousness, Dan reckoned the man might have been able to pack a punch. Yet there was no fight in his eyes. Just a sullen, frightened, rodent-like look. The man walked into the office and gave them his name right off the bat, all packaged with an unconvincing but very smiley ‘hello’.

  “Hello,” he said. “I’m Robert Poulter. I think you’ve been expecting me…”

  “Yes, yes, we have,” said Eva, brightly, trying to put the man at ease with one of her trademark smiles. She stood up and shook the man’s hand while he swept a loose lock of mousy brown hair from his eyes with his other hand. He returned her smile and looked more carefully at Dan. Dan nodded back, less willing to pat the man’s head than Eva.

  “You’re the man with the missing sister problem,” said Dan. Eva shot Dan a sideward glance. His phrasing sounded a little heartless.

  Poulter nodded, the words seemingly troubling him. It looked like they stung.

  “Can I take a seat?” said Poulter.

  Eva nodded as Dan continued his visual appraisal of the man.

  “Please do,” she said.

  Poulter pulled out the chair and dropped his backside into place opposite them at the desk . He put his hands on his knees, took them away, put them back again.

  “I’ve made a few inquiries about who to place this job with,” said Poulter. “But I was told you are the best around at what you do. Around here at least. Someone told me you used to be big hitters once.”

  “Once,” said Eva, rolling the word around her mouth with a subdued smile.

  “Actually, I prefer to think that we’re still big hitters, Mr Poulter,” said Dan. “But we only hit big when the case requires it.”

  Eva kept quiet, letting Dan set the tone even if his boasts sat uneasy with her. Although she wouldn’t have spoken that way herself, Dan’s words were true. They had never backed down from a big case, and even now, while she stressed and worried about the future, she still do
ubted they ever would. If another big case rolled in they would work it until it was done. And from what Poulter had said, it sounded like Dan wasn’t the only one boasting on their behalf. Eva wondered what Joanne had been saying about them, and to whom.

  “How did you hear of us, Mr Poulter?” said Eva. “Through Joanne, I take it?”

  “You mean the girl? I’ve heard the name, but no. Not through her. She was just the go-between, I think. I was told of your services by someone who knows the lie of the land here.

  An odd way to put it, Eva thought. “You spoke to someone who works with Joanne, and they told you about us,” she tried. But this version didn’t suit Poulter either.

  Poulter shrugged, uninterested in the particular details. He glanced down at his shoes. Scuffed, unpolished. “That’s about the size of it,” he said.

  Which was good enough. It matched Joanne’s story at least, which had caused Eva a moment’s concern. Poulter wasn’t interested in how the case came to them, of course. He was only interested in finding his sister. But she watched as his eyes flitted and his hands fidgeted. His nervous disposition brought one or two new concerns to light and they needed to be addressed before Eva felt able to move on. But, she knew, it would all come out in the questioning.

  “I’m only glad we’re still being recommended,” said Eva. “Word of mouth is the best advertising.”

  “Well, there were others. But you’re good, so they tell me. That’s all I need to know. You’ll be able to find her, won’t you?”

  “Your sister?” said Eva.

  “Exactly. That’s why I’m here.”

  “We can find her, I’m sure,” said Eva. “But have you tried the police, Mr Poulter?”

  “Of course. But I didn’t get far. And the Citizens Advice people told me the police are drowning in this kind of stuff. The list of missing persons is in the thousands, and the line I was told is that most don’t want to be found. That’s what they said. I hear police don’t want to put much resource into it. Is that right?”

  “It depends…” said Eva, “Did your sister want to go missing, Mr Poulter?”

  “She’s missing. She’s my sister,” said Poulter. “She’s a relatively young woman, alone in, from what I can see, is a relatively dangerous town. Let’s just say the place looks like it’s got some issues.”

  “You’re not from around here?” said Dan.

  “No. I’m from Watford. I’ve heard of Southend, of course, everyone has. Jamie Oliver, wideboys, white stilettoes…”

  Poulter smiled briefly, but his smile faltered when he met Eva’s eyes. She didn’t smile back but neither did she condemn. Right or wrong, Southend had long been the capital of the classic Essex stereotype.

  “White stilettoes are a little dated, Mr Poulter. But you’re not wrong about the issues here. Southend has its share of troubles.”

  “And that’s what I’m worried about. Our Alma has seen her own share of troubles in her life too. Bad boyfriends, bad choices and all that. But underneath, she’s a soft and gentle little soul. Thing is, she’s always had people to look out for her. But alone, in a town like this, and from what I’ve heard, well, some scumbag or other is likely to make mincemeat out of her.”

  Eva made a couple of mental notes… gentle soul… share of troubles… euphemisms all, but for what?

  “Could you tell us a little more about your sister, Mr Poulter,” said Eva.

  “And why you’re looking for her,” said Dan.

  “Excuse me. Didn’t I just say?” said Poulter.

  “It always helps to know more,” said Eva. “The more the better, in fact. Tell us about her history. Her habits. Why you think she came to Southend. A lot of city folks come down here for all the wrong reasons. Sea and sand is the start of it. But there’s often a lot more going on. Maybe you could provide us a physical description afterwards.”

  Poulter nodded and scratched his grey-shaded chin.

  “Right. I get you, now. You want the low-down. Alma is thirty-one. But she’s still young up here,” he said, tapping his head. “She’s a pretty, brunette and skinny, so she looks younger than she is. Three months back, when she was still hanging around in Watford, I heard that she’d gone and gotten involved with some dickheads in a bad scene. You know, wasters. Scoundrels, that kind of thing. I’d been busy with work, had a few orders on, so I couldn’t look out for her like I used to. I heard then that her other pals had left her to it. Which was a problem, see? She was always into the rave scene. Loved her dance music, that one. House, Techno, all that junk. And we all know what comes with that, right?”

  “You’re saying she was into drugs?” said Dan. Eva shot him a look, but Dan shrugged it off.

  “You could say that. But that’s because she was a party-girl. The fun-loving type. Alma wasn’t your common or garden two-bit junkie.”

  “No,” said Dan. But there was more than a hint of cynicism in Dan’s voice, and to Eva it was plain to hear. She hoped Robert Poulter wasn’t so perceptive.

  But apparently he was as observant as Eva feared. Poulter’s mouth stiffened and he scratched his brow just beside his eye. “I mean it. Alma is a good girl. She just got involved with the wrong sorts. It’s easy for a girl to do, isn’t it? Every fella comes on all sweet and sugary at first, and every now and then she ended up believing one of them. This time she must have believed the wrong one. It happens, don’t it?”

  “It can. We all must drop our guard at some time,” said Eva. Dan shifted in his seat, wondering if Eva meant him.

  “Yeah,” said Poulter. “Well, three months ago she dropped her guard big time. Poor girl. I only heard afterwards what kind of people they really were. They were party-heads, yes. But nothing like my sister. These were outlaws, weren’t they? And I mean real, proper scumbags. The kind you read about in the paper or see in the movies. The idiots standing behind the gangsters. Only this is real life. It’s the kind of stuff you never dream of happening to one of your own, but here it is. Alma’s a wild child, make no mistake, but she’s never had to cope with anything like this. This is out of her league. To be honest, I can’t handle it either. Not alone that is. Which is why I put the feelers out for private investigators who knows this town. That’s why I’m here now.”

  Dan narrowed his eyes. “But what makes you think she’s in Southend? You say these big-league scumbags picked up your sister in Watford. There’s a whole capital city between here and Watford. Why come to Southend?”

  “Who knows? Maybe for the sun and sea, like you said? Though I think it’s probably more to do with all the drugs in this town. Rife, aren’t they?”

  “I didn’t realise it was so apparent,” said Eva. “What’s your line of work, Mr Poulter.”

  Poulter sniffed. “I’m a printer. It’s a dying trade with a dying wage to match. But it’s all I know. As for apparent, you can spot those junkie types a mile off. One of the few things I know about Southend is that it’s a drugs hotspot. It’s one of those ‘county-lines towns’ isn’t it? The ones where the dealers send junior school dealers down the train line to sell for them.”

  “It’s been a county-lines town since before the phrase was ever invented,” said Dan. “It’s been happening here ever since I’ve been here. I’ve seen the results up close. I hope your sister hasn’t gotten too far involved in that stuff. It isn’t pretty what happens to the girls who get caught up in that racket.”

  Poulter blinked and looked at Eva.

  An apologetic smile passed her lips then fell away. “That’s the worst-case scenario, Mr Poulter. And as long as we find her alive – and hopefully very well, any such worries would have been a waste of time.”

  “I hope so,” said Poulter.

  “Do you know any of the men she got involved with?” said Dan. “Any names, or faces?”

  “No, afraid not. I only heard they were hardcore villains. Dance heads and drug dealers. Then I heard they moved out of town to pastures new and had taken Alma with them. I didn’t know where
to at first. But then, with a bit of my own digging, I managed to track down one single clue which led me here.”

  Poulter slipped a hand into his inside jacket pocket. Dan watched Poulter’s hand and followed it the whole way. They had a catalogue of enemies almost as deep as their shelves of past client files. More than a few of them would have been happy to see them dead. Poulter didn’t look the type to pull a gun, but you could never tell… Dan breathed easier when a crumpled piece of white paper appeared in Poulter’s hands. As he unfolded the sheet, Dan noticed the man’s bitten-down nails. His fingers and thumbs seemed to bulb a little at each end. He had hands like a cartoon frog. Poulter unfolded the sheet and spread it over the near corner of Eva’s desk. Eva and Dan leaned in for a closer look. The text in columns indicated the piece was newsprint – a newspaper article. The format said it was amateur or local, definitely not from the national press. There was a photo in the centre of the article, all grayscale black and white. It was a news clipping, printed from a website. Before they could scan the text, Poulter spoke again.

  “See, she loves her dance music. House, electro, whatever they call it these days. She loves it all. So that was the first avenue I checked. I checked out about twenty or so of her local North London haunts and then I just kept looking. No joy. After that, I scanned all the more unusual dance events I could find. The festivals, then the smaller venues. In the end, I got something and it led me here to Southend. It was so small I almost missed it, but here it is. Look. Can you see?”

  Poulter tapped on the photograph in the press clipping with a stubby-ended finger. There was a thin girl – overly-thin – with a severe look in her dark eyes. There were plenty of tattoos on her bare arms, and her dark hair was all bound up on the top of her head, in some kind of bouffant style with a serious fringe. It was an odd look, rare, but it suited her. In the image, there were people dancing around her in very a dark venue, but the lights had caught her and the DJ standing just beside her. It seemed as if the girl was a bystander caught in the camera lens by sheer accident, because of her proximity to the DJ. The DJ occupied the heart of the picture. Eva scanned the words beneath.