by Heleen Kist
She smiled at the memory of them falling over on the bistro’s benches, laughing loudly enough to turn the heads of other diners and raise a few tuts reminding them of Edinburgh’s expected decorum.
It had all been a big joke, of course. A merry, sisterly, evil-slaying fantasy.
At the same time, it gnawed at her.
Why not? What was stopping them? What was wrong with seeking justice?
She glanced at her screen and accepted she would make no progress in this state of mind. After saving the spreadsheet for later, she walked towards the kitchen and pressed the glistening steel espresso machine on. When she opened the fridge, her boiling blood she’d kept at bay started to erupt. Who the fuck helped themselves to her soya milk — again? They didn’t even like the soya one. Lazy fuckers.
It figured; they were almost all blokes since Pam had left. Suki was pleased she’d never have to live with a man — she’d probably strangle him. Women were generally more considerate, in her experience.
She was reminded of poor Pam. Thankfully a recent notification from LinkedIn had shown she had found a new job at the Chamber of Commerce. So much for going travelling. It would no doubt be a meeker environment than this one.
From what she could tell, Suki seemed to be the only one to know that Pam’s departure hadn’t been her choice. Another injustice; that much was clear. You didn’t make an employee sign an NDA unless you had something to hide.
Suki hadn’t yet congratulated Pam on the new position and contemplated pulling some more information out of her, some ammunition she could stockpile.
She grabbed her mobile and exited the kitchen through the rear door. She reached the smallest patio imaginable, sandwiched between this building and the one next door, whose dripping gutters meant you were always standing in a thin puddle. It was weird, the way these expensive old townhouses didn’t have outdoor spaces. The Victorians just made do with the communal garden in the centre of Rutland Square. Nowadays, the small, manicured plot hosted summer drinks receptions by the various professional services firm that had paid a pretty penny for access.
Her feet instantly cold, she dialled.
She was after something that Pam wouldn’t want to give, and her negotiation training had taught her that the first step was to build rapport. They talked about Pam’s new job, the relief she’d experienced at finding something quickly, particularly since she’d just ordered a new sofa on credit. ‘Totally,’ Suki replied when Pam said she would have hated to ask her mother for help again at the age of twenty-eight.
Though Suki would have gladly let her tell her the story of her life, like she’d done so often in the office during quiet hours, she sensed an opening.
‘Surely your payoff must have given you security for some time?’
‘Yes, it did.’
Bingo. Pam never mentioned a payoff before. Only the NDA.
Pam was still prattling on. ‘It was stressful, though, because I didn’t know when I would find a job again. And I worried when the Chamber asked me for references. In the end, Diane gave me one.’
‘Why does Diane put up with it?’
‘What?’
Suki realised she’d been musing out loud but grabbed the opportunity. ‘Diane. Cleaning their shit up.’
Pam sighed. ‘Diane is fiercely ambitious. She’s from a different generation. The only way up for them back then was to be one of the boys. And Diane got very, very good at that. That’s why she’s where she is.’
Suki could almost taste the venom through the phone line. ‘I guess you’re right. The old boy thing doesn’t seem to have changed all that much in finance.’ She picked at the chipped paint on the black metal railing, fiery rust staining her nail. ‘Will you still not tell me what happened to you? I want to know what stinking, rat-infested ship I’m sailing on.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s too soon. I wouldn’t want them to find out. But it’s much the same as with Natalie, who left shortly after you started. Do you remember her?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘Maybe she’ll talk to you. I’ll text her your number. I’m making no promises.’
Suki flicked a fleck of dried paint off her skirt. ‘Thanks.’
‘But if you are looking for rats, I’ve got a love rat for you,’ Pam whispered like they were two old ladies sharing the parish gossip.
Suki’s ears pricked up. ‘What do you mean, a love rat?’
‘Angus has a mistress, has had for years,’ Pam said. ‘She lives in the Borders. And guess who pays for their jollies, their overnight accommodation at the New Club, when she’s in town?’
Blood rushed to Suki’s ears. ‘The company?’
Pam replied, ‘Yup. All goes through the books,’
‘Do you think Diane knows?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Pam, her tone chilly. ‘Angus always signs off his own expenses. He can do that as a partner — they’re only relatively small amounts. It adds up over the course of the year, though. And it’s dodgy tax-wise.’
Suki ended the call and stayed on the patio for a while. Deep in thought, she drew figures of eight with the sole of her shoe on the slabs, splashing droplets of gutter water side to side. Was this particular can of worms one she wanted to open? If Angus was capable of this, what else was he doing? What else was he hiding?
She blew out a long stream of air, increasingly disgusted by the culture of this firm, the example set by its lead partner. Her MBA had taught her that culture came from the top. Like apples in a barrel, one corrupted leader meant the rest would become equally rotten.
Madainn was like a stereotype from the 80s, big, entitled egos, the lot of them. But it was the bloody twenty-first century; women shouldn’t have to put up with this shit anymore.
When she’d first joined the firm, she’d been excited. It had a female partner. That was so rare. And it had great prestige. The work was exciting, with Edinburgh becoming a hub for super-cool technology companies. She believed she was going to make a difference.
Had she?
As she turned to go inside, a WhatsApp message popped up on her screen. It was in the group she’d formed with Laura and Claire the day before, during the high-spirited inauguration of their revenge club. She’d never expected it to actually be used.
They’d been creative when it came to plotting the downfall of those who had wronged them, but distinctly less original when it came to the name of the club: the Avengers.
The message was from Claire. Underneath an animated image of an evil-looking black cat filing its claws, it read:
Have you got plans tomorrow morning?
Suki replied, with a cartoon of meerkats standing at attention in the desert.
What did you have in mind? I could do with a distraction.
35
ME
It was earlier than I liked it to be when I reached the front of the Sheraton Hotel on Festival Square the next morning.
Cleaners were spraying away the remnants of the previous night’s festivities with industrial-sized water pumps, manoeuvring between the various pop-up structures claiming the large, central space during August.
The white inflatable dome serving as a broadcasting station for BBC Radio Scotland partially blocked the view of the hotel’s welcoming water feature, where cigarette butts and take away cups floated in the shallow pool between the large metal mound-shaped fountains.
I climbed the steps to where I expected the hotel’s reception to be. Instead I faced the entrance to the restaurant, where guests were eating breakfast in a terrarium of bacon-infused air. Tourists heaped mountains of food on their plates, no doubt to fuel their many miles of walking up and down ancient streets. Early risers, intent on making every hour in this magical city count.
I pulled the baseball cap over my eyes, delighted I’d guessed how to fit in perfectly. My breathing was shallow. I adjusted my bum bag.
At first, I’d dismissed Claire’s WhatsApp message as a continuation of our zany, vengeful brainstormin
g at the bistro. When Suki declared she was in, I didn’t want to be the party pooper — not when I finally had a party to join.
Claire asked if either of us had a long-range camera, I’d replied, before having fully thought it through, ‘No, but I know someone who does.’
Still looking for reception, I spotted the lifts ahead, which stood opposite a large staircase going down, a multicoloured crystal chandelier reflecting the ambient lighting. A discreet sign with elegant scroll lettering depicted arrows in all directions, to the many facilities the hotel had to offer. The check-in desks, it turned out, were on the floor below. How confusing; that was the rear entrance to the building.
Would Craig already be here?
I’d been reluctant to call him, but I’d offered his services for Claire’s little plan in the heat of the moment, so I had little choice. And when I last left him, he’d said he would help me in any way he could. Incredibly, he didn’t ask any questions when I presented the task.
At the bottom of the green-carpeted staircase I looked for instructions on which way to turn. People were coming mostly from the right, which I presumed would be where the bedrooms were. Veering left, I followed a perfumed corridor with well-lit glass displays of luxurious Scottish-themed knickknacks to eventually reach the small, plain reception area — quite a difference from the grandeur and opulence of the rest of the building.
The guests checking out were being catered to with great efficiency by a pair of perfectly coiffed young women in tartan waistcoats.
A teenage brother and sister stood near the exit, giggling and pointing at something. I followed their gaze and saw the pink nose and whiskers of a ferret emerging from underneath the stand holding flyers for local activities.
So much for going unnoticed.
Craig spilt over the frame of the small tub chair. He sat facing the entrance, a black rucksack perched by his feet; a green leash linking him to an orange harness on Scout.
‘You brought Scout?’ I hunched down to give her a little scratch behind the ears.
A large grin formed inside the stubble on Craig’s face. ‘I always walk her in the morning. It made sense to bring her along. And I thought you might like to see her again.’
‘That’s nice. I do.’ I got up and wiped white fur from my hand. ‘It’s just... I was hoping to draw less attention to ourselves.’
‘About that... What are we doing here?’ Craig asked. ‘When you called, you said you needed me to take some shots. I’ve got the three-hundred-millimetre lens with me, like you asked, and this...’ He pulled a baseball cap from his wind breaker’s pocket and placed it on his head.
I smiled and straightened my own cap. ‘Don’t we make a fetching pair.’ A flush of heat darted across my stomach at that last word. Pair. I quickly stepped back and said, ‘Stay here, I’ll get the key card.’
Craig’s eyes grew wide. ‘We’re getting a room?’
It felt like every pint of blood in my body rushed to my cheeks. ‘No, no. My friend Claire organised a key card for access to the roof terrace. To take the pictures. By the pool. She’s an event planner so they know her.’ Desperately needing to move away from him before I embarrassed myself further, I said, ‘Let me get the pass and I’ll explain everything on the way up.’
Craig scooped Scout up. ‘I guess I should pack her away. I didn’t realise we were staying here when you told me where to meet you.’
‘Yes, sorry. That’s probably for the best.’
‘You didn’t tell me to bring trunks either.’
‘What?’
‘For the pool?’
‘Oh.’ I giggled.
His broad grin creased the skin around his hazel eyes.
Two minutes later, I motioned for Craig to join me, key in hand. We waited for the lift. An odd movement fleeted across his chest underneath his zipped-up jacket. It took a second for me to register it as Scout.
‘The roof terrace is a perfect vantage point to take pictures of someone inside the gym across the street;’ I said. ‘I wanted us to look like tourists so we wouldn’t raise any questions.’
‘Do I want to know whose picture I’m taking?’ Craig’s tone suggested he regretted showing up.
‘It’s a little joke Claire wants to play on her boss. It’s nothing serious or sinister. You see, he’s a bit of an ass. Real vain. And she wants to bring him down a peg or two.’ I acted as if riding a lift in a hotel with a man you’ve only met twice to spy on someone else was an everyday occurrence.
I knew it wasn’t, but I needed this. It killed me that I couldn’t avenge Emily; find the man, or men, that drove her to take her own life. I’d blamed Adam Mooney, but I witnessed the star’s contrition first-hand, and Emily had forgiven him... This left me to spend days analysing Twitter data, finding clues, chasing theories, trying to engage the police, only to hit the brick walls of anonymity over and over.
And here was Darren, Emily’s boss. If he was as big a dick as Claire made him out to be, it stood to reason Emily must have suffered under him, too.
So yes, I needed this: a swift act of minor revenge on behalf of all women, to make me believe there was such a thing as justice. To distract from this unbearable feeling that I’d failed my best friend — in life, and in death.
The doors pinged open and led onto a plush lounge with a wall of neatly rolled up towels nestled into wooden cubes. We wouldn’t need those, nor would we need to access the dressing rooms on either side. Instead, I led the way through a pair of heavy, insulated doors to outside.
A kidney-shaped pool took up almost the entire rooftop patio. We walked to the metal wire barriers to get our bearings.
‘There’s the gym,’ I said. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s half past eight.’ Craig released Scout from inside his jacket, unclipped her lead and let her roam free.
‘You see there? On the third floor?’ I pointed. ‘That’s where the weights are. And that woman in the red gym kit, with the black bun in her hair? That’s my friend Suki. She’s in place. Any minute...’
‘Your victim will appear?’ Craig completed the sentence, an eyebrow raised.
A feeling of unease stirred in my chest. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. It’s nothing to do with you. If you want to leave, feel free.’
Craig silently unpacked his camera. He screwed an impressive looking lens delicately onto the main body. He raised the device to his eye and moved it up and down a few times to train the focus.
‘I can’t say I’m thrilled at what we’re doing. And I certainly don’t want to know what your friend will do with the photos, but I’m glad you thought of me.’ His disarming smile made my heart skip. ‘Besides, you basically accused me of being a stalker last time we met. Who’s the stalker now?’
I snorted.
A male figure appeared in the gym window beside the one Suki occupied. He fit Claire’s description of Darren. Bang on time, too. Ever since he found Emily in the office gym, he’d moved to this pay-per-play venue on Exchange Crescent.
‘That’s him. There.’
Craig got into position. ‘Keep an eye on the doors, will you? I wouldn’t want Scout to escape and freak out all the guests.’
It didn’t take long for Darren to get close to Suki up ahead. She could charm the pants off anyone. Plus, according to Claire, she wouldn’t need to do anything for him to have a go at a pretty young thing.
I crouched next to Craig, his warm body shielding me from the wind. I strained to see properly inside the weights room at this angle. I had to rely on his skill.
‘Here’s the thing,’ I said. ‘We want him clearly flirting with the girl, with the back of his head to us. And if there is any way you can get that reflected in a mirror, that would be superb.’
It took a while to catch Scout after we were done. Mesmerised by the surface undulations of the swimming pool, she’d darted around it, occasionally placing a paw into the water. Or sniffing it, causing her whiskers to create tiny
ripples that reminded me of Atticus.
I was the one to grab her and I gave the furry creature a little nuzzle before passing her over to Craig. He placed her gently against his chest, pulled his jacket’s zip as far forward as he could while stroking her fur down careful not to get it caught as he enclosed her. His large hand cupped Scout through the fabric and her wriggling subsided.
We navigated our way out of the hotel, back onto Festival Square.
‘Which way are you going?’ Craig asked, releasing Scout into the daylight and attaching her leash again.
‘Quartermile. To the right.’
‘Okay. I’m going left. See you again sometime?’
I didn’t know how to respond to his hopeful face. I wanted to say yes, but what reason did I have to visit him? I’d exhausted my photo-related leads. And why would he want to see me again, anyway? I took a few steps in my direction of travel to avoid any awkward goodbyes. ‘Thanks for helping out today.’
‘No problem. Though next time I’m tempted to offer “any help I can,” I’ll remember I might get roped into doing dodgy things on a rooftop.’ A twinkle of his eye accompanied his wave as he, too, stepped away.
On the way to my office, I pulled out my phone and sent a WhatsApp message to the others.
Mission accomplished.
The link to the photos would follow later when Craig had uploaded the files. He’d reiterated that he didn’t want to know how they would be used. He’d only make the folder available for three hours before deleting it, which seemed completely fair.
My first instinct had been to react to his disapproval like I always did, by caving in, apologising. Not this time. I’d made a commitment to my new friends.
And anyway, it was justified. We hadn’t started it. We were merely dishing out justice to guilty men.