The Devil's Reflection

by Colin Davy

  “Not that I know of.”

  Silence reigned while he digested this. She’d made a good point, but it would be stronger if the woman had left a family behind rather than a potential debt. “It’s circumstantial,” he said. More like flimsy, he thought to himself, but he had to tread carefully. Despite his cynicism, he felt concerned about her welfare. Was he slipping into quicksand without making any effort to pull free?

  “I know I’m right,” she said.

  “If you’re sure, you should contact the police,” he said.

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re being silly now,” she said.

  “How?”

  “What real evidence have I?” she said. “People go missing every day.”

  They do, he thought, but several together might be a different matter. Although maybe not, after all, they weren’t the most stable demographic. “Are any of them vulnerable?”

  “They’re all adults,” she said. “You know what will happen. The police will give me reassurance and do next to nothing.”

  That he could agree with. “You could always ask the police for general advice. Make sure they’re aware of your worries.”

  “No!”

  She was too definite, and he worried again about her immigration status. “Aren’t you worrying unnecessarily? Have you any evidence these people went against their will?” When she blinked rapidly, he guessed she hadn’t.

  “When you see the e-mail,” she said. “You’ll see why I’m concerned.”

  “Haven’t I already heard the relevant details?”

  She sighed loudly. “But you need to know the people involved.”

  Exactly, he thought, that’s why he wasn’t the best person to adjudicate. The people who were involved were missing so he’d never meet them. You can’t solve a case when the main victims have done a runner.

  “I think you need to see us for yourself,” she continued.

  “See what?”

  “How we operate.”

  “But why me?” It seemed to be a permanent refrain.

  She sighed again, as if dealing with a recalcitrant child. “I keep telling you, we have an affinity. I trust your judgement.”

  “You keep telling me that, but it doesn’t make it right.”

  When her cheeks reddened, he felt as if he’d slapped her. “I fear a disaster,” she said softly. “But I know you can avert it.”

  “I know you think that,” he said slowly. “I wish I could live up to your faith.”

  “You will,” she said. “I’m sure of it, once you meet the people in the congregation.”

  He sighed. “Are you trying to recruit me for your group?”

  She frowned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  He tried not to smile - getting ahead of ourselves? She’d already disappeared over the far horizon with him in tow. “I’m not sure meeting people loyal to your group will convince me of anything.”

  “Please,” she said. “Do this last thing for me and I promise I won’t ask for more.” If only he could believe that, he’d snap up her offer. A thought suddenly seemed to occur to her, and she leaned closer. “You could come to our meeting on Sunday morning,” she said. “And you could bring Debs.”

  He could, he supposed, but he could almost hear the quicksand beckoning. How involved should he become? By now, he saw the lights where he’d dropped her before, and she noticed the car braking slowly. “Left at the lights,” she said. “Drop me where you did before.”

  He obeyed, hoping she wouldn’t invite him for a drink or more likely, demand he read a pointless e-mail. She did neither. Instead, she only stared at him in silence. “Maria?”

  “Will you do this one last thing for me, please?” she asked.

  “Let me think about it,” he said, and he saw her eyes widen in hope. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Promise?”

  “I will,” he said, but would he? At least, he’d ring later whatever he decided. It wouldn’t be fair to leave her in limbo and rely on her giving up. But he’d leave the final decision until he’d discussed it with Sophie.

  Without warning, she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He knew he should ease away but he found it hard. Finally, she released him and clambering from the car, she turned to watch him turn the car back to Liverpool. This time, he waved back before setting off home - a journey that seemed surprisingly long now he was on his own.

  The other surprise was she’d not insisted on him actually seeing the mystery e-mail from Caitlyn. It had been conveniently forgotten, and although he was relieved, you could always colour him cynical. And you’d be right.

  Chapter Five

  He’d ring Sophie as soon as he arrived back, he decided. This ‘will-he, won’t-he stay with Maria’ had gone on too long. Time to make a definite decision. It wasn’t too late to ring Sophie tonight and then ring Maria immediately after.

  When he entered the carpark, dusk had arrived, but the rain had finally stopped, leaving the air warm and humid. He was sweating as he opened the door to his flat, and as if by magic, his mainline phone began to ring. That could only be Sophie, she was the only person who used it.

  The call was, as he expected, from Sophie, and a predictable question awaited. “What did you say to Maria say when you called?” she asked. “And more importantly, what did she say?”

  “You’re very interested for some reason,” he said.

  There was a short silence. “Guilty as charged,” she said finally. “But what did you agree to?”

  “I met her on the way home,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “She and her sister were waiting at the docks.”

  For a moment, she was quiet. “At least, her sister was there, but that’s worrying.”

  “They claim it was coincidence.”

  “How?”

  “Her sister lives at the docks a floor above me,” he said. “Something she mentioned on Sunday. She claims she was visiting her.” He paused. “It’s possible.”

  “You had a meeting in your flat?”

  “No, in number two-six-one.”

  “Why in two-six-one?”

  “It’s her sister’s flat.”

  “Hang on.” She put the phone down and he heard a buzz of conversation. When she returned, she sounded amused. “Scott wants to know if her sister’s good-looking?”

  “Drop-dead gorgeous,” he said. “If you like the Goth look.”

  She laughed gently. “A little old-fashioned.”

  “I suspect it’s not a deliberate copy, but she definitely dresses for men.” He heard the verdict being passed on and a light laugh from Scott. “I suspect Scott would like her,” Gary said. “Anyway, let me get comfortable.” After finding a comfortable seat, it took a few minutes to bring her up to date. “Should I agree to see her on Sunday morning?” he asked.

  “Fascinating,” she said. “She sounds like a nice girl, just the sort of girl you need.”

  He hadn’t realised he’d described her as nice. “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “Because I worry about you.”

  “You don’t need to,” he said. “I’m not one of your teenage pupils.”

  “You aren’t, but you’re not very sociable, Gary, you need someone to shake you up.”

  Maria had certainly done that. “I think she’s nice, but she has strange ways. She thinks she can predict the future.”

  “She what?”

  “She thinks she can see into the future, although she admits it’s usually sketchy and confused.”

  There was a short silence before Sophie spoke again. “I’ve heard the Pentecostals and Evangelicals have people who can prophesy.”

  “That’s what they purport to be,” he said. “Some variety of Pentecostal, but she had the grace to be embarrassed by her prophetic powers.” He heard a sound of a television starting up behind Sophie.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That’s Scott getting his
fix of sport for the week, I’ll speak louder.” She did so, but she began with a summary of his information so far.

  “Should I see her on Sunday?” he asked to interrupt her.

  “That depends,” she said.

  “On what?”

  “More information.”

  He sighed. “Fire away.”

  “Only one question,” she said before dropping her voice a fraction. “Is Maria vulnerable in any way?”

  “Not really,” he said. “A bit Asperger-ish, but nothing too serious.”

  “Oh?” she said softly. “She sounds like a good fit for you.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Never mind,” she said a little louder. “Although Maria sounds vulnerable, it seems she has self-awareness.”

  “That’s true.”

  He heard a questioning voice over the background noise. “Who’s that now?” he asked.

  “Only Scott again,” she said. “Wanting to know what you do with a problem called Maria.”

  He groaned. “Does he never stop?”

  “It’s you encouraging him,” she said sternly.

  Possibly, he thought. Although it started as amusing, it had now become annoying. “What are my options?” he asked.

  “Not many,” she said. “You’ve already encouraged her but I don’t blame you for that. First of all, Gary, don’t get too involved. Be business-like and don’t take advantage of her vulnerability.”

  “Take advantage?” he said. “What do you take me for?”

  There was a short silence.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked, but she was wrong. He felt sorry for Maria but his feelings weren’t in the direction she suspected. “I’m taking her twin sister to Southport with me if I go.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she said. “Make sure you do.”

  “I will.”

  “Let her see you respect her point of view and you’ve considered her conclusions properly”

  “I’ll do my best, but this Sabbat or whatever it is, do we have to kiss the Devil’s arse?”

  She sighed. “Don’t be silly, Gary, you’ve letting your over-active imagination run away with you. If it’s the Pentecostal Church, you’ll be safe. It might even do you some good. If you want to kiss the devil’s arse, you’ll have to bring one with you.” He heard her sigh. “Raif would fit the bill.”

  He remembered now Sophie was a member of a Christian organisation and he decided to tone things down. “So, she’s not dangerous?”

  “Probably not, but whatever you do, and whenever you do it, let her down gently.”

  “I should definitely go then?”

  “It’s up to you,” she said. “My advice is to do so, but remember if you let her down badly, you may get more than you bargained for.”

  “How?”

  “One woman coming after you is bad enough, you certainly don’t want two.”

  “Her twin, you mean?”

  “No, I mean me.”

  “Oh, come on, Sophie, you’ve never met her.”

  “I know you, though.” Sighing loudly, she continued. “She could be good for you, don’t discard her lightly.”

  He sat back and wondered how to reply, and though the knock on the door was light, he heard it. “I’ll think carefully,” he promised. “But I seem to have unexpected visitors.”

  As soon as Sophie finished her farewells, he walked across to open the door.

  There stood Debbie, in slippers and dressing gown, with an angry look on her face. “Debbie?” he asked. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

  “You know what’s wrong,” she said tightly. “It’s my sister.” She still wore her make-up, but her face was flushed and her eyes bright with emotion.

  “What’s wrong with Maria?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said. “She’s only being her usual contrary self.”

  Stepping back, he motioned her in. “You’d better explain.”

  She stood where she was. “You already know,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

  “Don’t give me that,” she hissed. “She’s got you round her little finger, hasn’t she?”

  He sighed. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She stepped inside before glancing quickly around, giving what looked like a damning shake of her head, but saying nothing as she strode to the armchair and dropped into it. If she wore anything under the dressing gown, it wasn’t immediately visible, but at least, the gown was draped over her knees and pulled together by her hand at the top and doing its best to hide her cleavage.

  She’d had a phone call from her sister, he deduced, and had promptly stormed up to complain about it. “Hello to you too, Debs,” he said softly. “While you’re here, would you like to see my flat?” His light tone didn’t go down well.

  “Not really,” she snapped. “It’ll be the same as mine.” After another glance around, she nodded to herself. “I see there’s a coffee table between the chairs but this room’s identical, apart from being much messier.”

  “I suppose so.” He also supposed that plain speaking ran in the family, they were twins after all. “What did your sister tell you?”

  She stared for a second. “That you’re to be my chauffeur to Southport on Sunday morning.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  She had a strange expression on her face. “We did have other plans,” she said.

  “We?”

  When she relaxed a little, he found himself following suit, but it was short-lived. “Gail and me,” she said. “She would give me a lift but Maria hates her.” When her eyes narrowed, she stared at him again. “I suppose you didn’t know that?”

  “No,” he said. “Where does this Gail come in?”

  When she glanced around, her breathing slowed, and he decided she definitely wasn’t wearing anything underneath the dressing gown. As if in response to his look, she pulled the gown over her knees and tugged it together at the top. She was either very naïve or very angry, or possibly a bit of both, but she seemed to have realised she must look oddly-dressed for a late night tete-a-tete. “I’ll have a cup of tea while I’m here,” she said in a tone that was more an order than request.

  Taking the chance to retreat to the kitchen alcove, he tried to work out the best way to get rid of her. “Milk or sugar?” he asked.

  Although she shook her head, her eyes followed his every move. Gail’s status was going to remain a mystery, but hopefully he could soothe, or at least deflect Debbie’s anger. Although she was a very pretty girl, predictability wasn’t her strong point, and even if she was the one dressed in next to nothing, he was the one feeling vulnerable.

  Scratch naïve, he decided, angry and reckless was a better description of her. Yet, what did she, or Maria know about him? Very little, he could be a mass-murderer or a serial rapist. Did she believe her sister’s premonitions enough to put him on the same undeserved pedestal as Maria did?

  “She’s a control freak,” she said suddenly, her voice dripping with anger.

  “Gail?”

  “No!”

  Oops. “Maria?”

  “Of course, it’s Maria,” she said. “You can’t believe a word she says.”

  “Oh, come on, Debbie, that’s over the top.”

  “It’s not,” she said. “Maria means well, but she thinks she’s perfect even though she always falls short, a typical megalomaniac.”

  A typical sister’s view more like, he thought, but Debbie’s flush darkened as she warmed to her subject. “Never get the wrong side of her,” she continued. “She’s far less of a Christian than I am.” She looked up as he approached with a cup of hastily-made tea. The water hadn’t boiled and the teabag had only a passing acquaintance with it. “Thanks,” she said automatically. “I told Maz I’d come up to have it out with you.”

  That stopped him in his tracks. “What was her response?” he asked.

  “Jealousy,” she said. “W
hat else? She ordered me not to have anything more to do with you. Ordered me!”

  “So, I’m not to give you a lift on Sunday?”

  Her eyes flashed. “No,” she said. “Her royal highness requires your attendance and your chauffeur services.”

  He decided to keep quiet, but when she reached out to take the tea, her hand trembled. “Fuck her,” she yelled. “Who does she think she is.” He moved the cup away for a second or two, and only when she calmed a little, did he offer it again.

  This time she took it calmly. “Sit down for a minute,” she said. “I’ll tell you all about my sister.”

  “It’s getting late,” he said. “Are you sure you have time?”

  When she frowned, he realised it was the first time he’d seen her frown seriously. “It’s embarrassing for me,” she said. “She’s my twin, not my mother, but being a couple of minutes older, she thinks she owns me. Can you believe it?”

  He shrugged. “It happens.”

  “So does shit.” She put the cup down without a tremor and he hoped the worst was over now. “Sometimes I could kill her,” she said softly.

  “I expect she sometimes feels the same,” he said, wondering if he was making things better or worse. He was no good at this, his platitudes sounded exactly what they were, whereas Sophie would have calmed the girl by now.

  But Debbie seemed to brighten a fraction. “She probably does,” she said.

  “You’ve known her all your life,” he said softly, “You’re bound to clash occasionally.”

  “Occasionally? You don’t know the half of it. When my mother went AWOL, as she did regularly, Maria became unbearable. Do this, do that, she’d order. Completely manic.”

  “I expect she was worried about the both of you.”

  She shook her head firmly. “She was worried about herself, that’s all.”

  He sat down. She was calming, but calming slowly, even if the worst of her fury had gone, to be replaced by sullen anger, and the beginnings of a little embarrassment at her current position. Drinking tea with a man she hardly knew while dressed only in a dressing gown must have sunk in as risky. And that dressing gown looked threadbare around both elbows.

  Noticing his gaze, she moved some of the cloth around to hide the worst of the worn material. “Maz hates it when people don’t do what she expects,” she said. “It’s a cross I have to bear, Gary, and one you might have to bear as well. She assumes you’ll fall into line with the other gullible fools and come to believe in her powers too.” She shook her head slowly. “The curse of being a twin to a self-proclaimed paragon is to see others fall for her con-trick.”