“I’d rather die, you swine! I’m out of all that business!”
“Oh, I don’t think so. It’s the sort of business you don’t ever really get out of. It leaves a mark. For life. You’re as bent as your boyfriend.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Who do you think told me about you the last time? Who put me on to your dirty ways?”
“I don’t believe you, you bastard!” she screamed. “He wouldn’t do that!”
“Sweetheart, I’ve seen every filthy, twisted thing in the book. More than even you could think of. Or any of your fast set. I’m no longer amazed at what people get up to. How they get their fun. And here you are, back for more.”
Kate’s voice was tearful now. “Don’t. Please don’t. Can’t you see this is a setup? Why are we both here? Think, damn you!” she cried desperately.
It seemed to stop him. I could almost hear his brain cogs meshing. “All right, let’s you and me sit and have a little think, shall we. Then we can get back to business. I’ll sit here.” I heard the bed creaking and straining. “You sit there. Now then, why are you here if it’s not to turn some tricks?”
She was desperate. “I got a message. From Jonny Crane.”
“Jonny himself?”
“No. Some little tramp. But she must have been from Jonny. She called me… she called me Sheila. The name I used.”
“I know the name. I remember the name. But so would a lot of men… Sheila. It needn’t have been Jonny.”
“Oh Christ! This is too, too horrible. I can’t stand it!” I heard her feet making for the door, but Wilson’s size was deceptive, as I knew only too well.
He slammed into the door before she’d half opened it.
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” It was an order. I heard the first sob, and hated myself for doing this to her. No good saying she asked for it.
“Shut up. How did you get this message?”
She sniffed. “Phone. This morning.”
“Did Jonny have your address? Your real address?”
“No, of course not.” She blew her nose. She had guts.
“So who else would know you were coming here? Think, woman. Tony? Once more for luck, eh?”
“No!” Her voice dropped. “Nobody knew. Besides he’s been out all day.”
“Doing what?”
“He’s out stalking that crazy man, McRae.”
“Tony’s a busy boy. When you see him, tell him ta.”
“For what?”
“The tip-off.”
“About what?”
“He said McRae phoned him to boast about the latest killing. After your little drinks party with him. And that’s where we found the gun with his prints.
Lovely. Didn’t Tony mention?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“There’s a thought. Could McRae have set this up?”
“How could he know… about this… and Jonny and… things? It’s impossible.”
“He’s a tenacious little bastard. Devious…” His voice trailed away. Then I heard him move. I had just a fraction of a second to jump back and sent my chair clattering to the floor.
Then Wilson smashed through the connecting door.
He sailed on past me, bellowing and tripping over the chair and crashing down in a flurry of flailing limbs and splintering wood. Olй! His head hit the boards and the noise seemed to go on echoing forever. Then I realised Kate was screaming.
“Belt up!” I shouted.
She stopped and stood facing me through the wreckage, her beautiful hands clasping her face. We gazed down on the heap between us. Wilson wasn’t moving. I hoped he was dead. No such luck. The great bulk began stirring and a groan escaped. Kate and I were transfixed, waiting to see what he’d do. I took a step forward ready with my skilful boot.
He began to pull himself on to his knees, but his trunk and head stayed on the floor. I was about to kick him, but a great moan shook him and he fell slowly on to his side. He was clutching his stomach. Then I saw why. A spar of wood – part of a broken chair leg – stood out from between his hands. Blood was already flowing round his fingers and staining his shirt. His face was scratched and ashen. He looked like death. It suited him.
I stepped past him. I’m not sure he saw me. If he did, he didn’t recognise me. I walked up to Kate. She was wide-eyed and open-mouthed, breathing quickly.
“Oh, god. Oh god. What have we done?” Her voice carried notes of hysteria.
I took her shoulders with both hands and shook her roughly. “We haven’t done anything. He did it to himself.”
“What are we going to do? We have to get out of here.”
I thought fast. It was tempting – very tempting – to leave him here to die like a stuck pig. The world would be a better place for his departure. But I wouldn’t let a dog die like that. And more important, it would be trouble for Mary. The biggest trouble there was.
“Kate, Kate! Listen to me!” Her eyes were in shock. I wasn’t sure I was getting through. I slapped her. She blinked.
“Kate, we’re walking out of here, now. I’m taking you somewhere safe. I’m going to call an ambulance for him. OK?”
She nodded. I took her under one arm and hauled her out of the flat and down the stairs. We emerged into the murk and plunged off in the direction I thought was Mary’s. In the fog I missed the turning twice, but on the way blundered into a telephone box. I pushed Kate in with me while I called 999. She was unresisting and stood looking dumbly at me as I gave the address to the operator. I could do nothing more for Herbert Wilson. Even though I now knew he wasn’t the killer, he certainly wouldn’t get my prayers.
TWENTY FOUR
“Tea, Mary, please. And brandy. Make that two.”
I made Kate sit down in Mary’s parlour. She began to shake, and I sat staring at her perfect face, blotched and stained with running eye make-up. The mark I’d made on her cheek was a livid pink. Her shoulders convulsed as quiet sobs hit her. She tore off her hat and bent her head into her hands. The cap of hair gleamed in the tarty room like a platinum ball in a toy shop. I wanted to go over and put my arms round her but at the same time wanted her to suffer for a while. I felt a cold anger at what she’d done to herself. And me.
Mary came back with steaming cups and balloon glasses swirling with dark pools.
She sat beside Kate and touched her. Kate jumped and sat up, panic and wretchedness all over her face. She looked a beautiful, ravished mess.
“You drink. Brandy first, then tea.”
Kate took the glass and sniffed it suspiciously. Then she took a great gulp. She coughed and retched and finally fell back on her chair. She glared at me.
“Where is this? Who is this person?”
“I’m surprised you don’t recognise it. You’re in a whorehouse. This is the madam. Mama Mary. Be nice to her, Kate. She’s being nice to you.”
“Is this your idea of a sick joke? What are we doing here?”
“This is a sanctuary. For one thing, you were in shock. For another, I have questions I need answers to.”
“I can’t take any more, McRae. I just want this all over.”
My voice got harder. “So do I, Miss Graveney, so do I. You started it, remember.” She looked fearful again, as though I was going to leap over and hit her. I took advantage.
“Why did you do this, Kate? Why did you get involved with Jonny Crane?”
She looked at me from a long way off. I wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Because I’m lower class? Because it’s only something rich folk would get up to?
Bored with cocaine, Kate?”
She took another big gulp of brandy. This time it went down easily. She took a deep breath and rested her head back on the chair. Her throat was exposed, thin and vulnerable.
She spoke to the ceiling. “It was a game. It started as a game. Tony and me.”
“A game? You mean like cowboys and Indians? Or maybe doctors and nurses?”
“Stop it! You make it sound so cheap.”
“Chess then?”
She shook her head at my sarcasm. She wasn’t ready to tell me.