by Colin Davy
He took a breath and waited expectantly. “Go ahead,” he said. “Make my day.”
“I’ll ignore the film quotation,” she said. “They’re simple questions, so don’t worry.”
“Fine.”
“Did you find Debs sexually attractive?” she asked before giving a searching look and cocking her head to one side to twirl a lock of hair around her finger. Normally, he’d have found it endearing, but she’d put him on the spot. He may as well be honest.
“Of course,” he said. “I’d have to have been dead or at least comatose not to, but I’d never have taken it further. She knew she was attractive and she’d have played on that. The attraction wasn’t mutual, and she made that crystal clear. I would never have trusted her for that reason alone.”
When she stared for a moment, he’d have given a small fortune to know what she was thinking, but her eyes gave nothing away.
Finally, she came out of her reverie. “Do you find me sexually attractive?” she asked.
Ah, she’d saved the hardest question to last. He had no intention of lying but the real answer was difficult to explain. “Not at first,” he said. “But the fault was mine. I was looking at the wrong things.” Her stare was unblinking and he found it unsettling. “Do I find you sexually attractive now? Yes, I do.” There he’d said it. The quicksand was beguiling and he’d stepped in without knowing how beguiling, discovering too late he was in no hurry to wade back.
Her eyes smiled even if her lips didn’t move. “I trust you totally,” she said. “You may not believe in my beliefs, or obsessions as you might call them, but-”
“Not obsessions,” he said quickly. “That’s too strong. Your beliefs are part of you.”
“Shush,” she said, putting her index finger gently over his lips. “You’ve said what I wanted to hear, and I know you’re telling the truth.”
So, it had been an examination and he’d passed. Yet, he wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or slightly insulted,
“I know you never complain,” she continued. “But isn’t the settee uncomfortable?”
“Well, now you ask,” he said. “It’s very uncomfortable … unless that counts as complaining.”
She nodded and gripping his hands in hers, she pulled him close. “I will sleep with you tonight, Gary, if you wish. And though I’d like you to, I’d prefer you didn’t accept this offer yet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t.”
“But why then?”
“Because …” she said. “Because I want you to investigate Debbie’s death, and I want you to do it with your head and your heart because you want to, and not because … well, you know.”
At his frown, her smile reappeared. “And because it’s too soon for me. You do understand, don’t you?”
“Do I?”
“I’m sure you do,” she said.
Coming closer, she brushed her lips against his, pressing her body tight against him so he could feel her warmth. “What’s it to be, Gary? I’ll leave the answer to you.”
Chapter Fifteen
When Gary slowed for a pedestrian playing chicken with the traffic, he heard a screech of brakes from behind. Checking the rear-view mirror, he saw the same car that had followed for some time. A blue Astra that had seen better days, the appearance not improved by a broken headlight glass that must be illegal. What idiot thought the police would drive past an eyesore like that, he wondered.
Gail drove a blue Astra, he remembered, and he peered into the rear-view mirror, but another car had already overtaken the Astra. When he moved onto the motorway, the blue car continued to follow, but approaching junction five, it cruised past to disappear along the M62 towards Manchester.
Taking the turn-off to Childwall, he slowed and wondered how much of a good idea this had been. After promising Maria he’d take her pet theory seriously until the middle of next week, he intended to show her how seriously he was taking it, starting with today. Once his unofficial time limit was up, he’d return to work, and hope she accepted he’d done his best.
Although he’d set off early, the sun had already warmed the air to an uncomfortable temperature. Sweat beaded his forehead and he felt the prickle of a light heat rash on his neck.
He hadn’t bothered to phone Raif first, thinking that it might be useful to catch him by surprise. Was that a tactic Sherlock Holmes ever used? Unlikely, but copying the great detective slavishly wasn’t likely to be a successful if you’re nowhere as good. When he reached the road where Raif lived, he found a parking spot with no problems. A godsend because the problems were only just starting.
Although Raif had invited him round anytime, he’d little faith his old friend would be informative. He was a man who gave away information for a reason, and only for a reason that suited him.
Raif did look surprised to see him, but it wasn’t a pleasantly surprised welcoming look. “Gary?” he said. “Where did you spring from this early?” He wore a thin dressing gown over old-fashioned, retro pyjamas, and his hair had the dishevelled look of someone with no mirrors handy. A man who went to bed late and slept late. But his hair held no hint of grey, and even the trim moustache nestling under his aquiline nose was uniformly dark. With cropped stubble and perfectly chiselled teeth, Gary could believe his claim to have been a male model in his youth.
“From the Duncan docks, Raif.” He said.” I’m still living there and I want to pick your brains. You made me curious yesterday.”
“Unlike you to visit unannounced,” the man said. “You’re such a creature of habit, but you’d better come in.” He lived in a two-bedroomed flat and never bothered much with decorating. “Dead time,” he used to claim, and he lived there by choice. “It’s the location that matters.”
“Childwall?” was the usual question in response, but Raif would have none of it. “Handy for the motorway,” he used to explain. “I do a lot of travelling.” No one could deny Raif kept the house tidy, and was fastidious about cleaning. It showed as he led his visitor into the main room, where the smell of bleach still lingered.
After dropping into an armchair, Gary wished he’d prepared what to say. Fortunately, Raif broke the silence. “How are you?” he asked, making a fair effort at a sympathetic face. “Sorry to hear about your girlfriend, you must be gutted?”
“Not as much as she is,” he said.
Slow realisation spread over Raif’s face. “Sorry,” he said. “It was her sister, wasn’t it?”
Gary detected a hint of relief. A death, once removed so to speak, made it much easier to commiserate. “Give … Maria my sincere condolences,” he said, with a remarkable lack of sincerity. “Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee,” Gary said, watching the man bound from the room with the exuberance of a puppy. How old was Raif? Close to forty, but he remained an adolescent in his own mind. And he showed few signs of a guilty conscience. Had had he really confused the two sisters? Even for a man steeped in his own importance, that was extreme.
When he came back with coffees, he’d changed into a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, dark trousers and a more subdued look. “How is Maria taking it?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “I thought you could do better than her,” he said. “She looks like she might have an eating disorder, but each to his own, I suppose.” He passed over the coffee. “I doubt her sister’s death will help either.”
Gary made his face expressionless. Raif certainly didn’t mince his words, but saying what he really thought might engender him to people who wanted factual advice on finance. In his original incarnation as a professional gambler, logic and calculation would trump sentimentality. But he could be a real twat at times. “Maria’s deceptively pretty,” Gary said. “I like her, she has a strong personality allied to a good heart.”
“Of course.” Raif didn’t look the faintest bit embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to …” He trailed off.
Oh yes, you did, Gary thought, but he’d be magnanimous. Ther
e was no point getting his back up straight away.
“I assume you didn’t come here to curry sympathy for Maria,” Raif said. “Shall we get down to business and satisfy your curiosity?”
“Please do.”
“OK,” he said. “Ask away.”
Gary took a breath to gain time, but realised he wasn’t sure how to start. Sorry, Sherlock, he thought, your new protégé has a lot to learn. “How’s business?” he asked finally.
When Raif’s eyes narrowed, the dark brown colour gave him a penetrative gaze. “Get to the point, Gaz, you’re not a gambler and you’re not short of the readies, so why the interest in my welfare?”
“As I said, curiosity.” Although Raif frowned, he didn’t interrupt. “You’re way out of your comfort zone in the Pentecostal congregation,” Gary continued. “Unless I’ve done you a disservice. You wouldn’t recognise a mortal sin, let alone a venal one.” He tried to make his tone light, but Raif’s eye’s remained cold.
“That’s Catholicism, Gaz,” he said. “You’re no Holy Joe either. Did Maria put you up to this? What does she think I’ve been doing?”
“The same as I do, Raif, you’re looking for someone with more money than sense. What happened to the gambling?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s what I do, but gambling with my money is a long-term project, gambling with other people’s money often produces short-term dividends.”
“And it’s safer.”
“That as well.” After taking a sip of his coffee, Raif stared directly at his visitor. “I can assure you Maria isn’t involved,” he said. “So, why are you concerned about my business?”
“Was Debbie involved?”
“Debbie?” He almost spat the word out. “No way, she’s a dilettante. A complete amateur. I would never waste my time with the silly bitch.”
“Who then?”
Raif’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “That’s none of your fucking business, Gaz.”
Again, Raif had pointed out the bleeding obvious, but more importantly, he knew he could either accept the rebuke or go for broke. “What is my business?” he asked. “What was the information you said was important yesterday?”
Raif nodded slowly. “That’s better,” he said with a smile. “I’m your friend, Gaz, I wanted to save you time and energy. What have you made of the Southport congregation so far?” As usual, Raif wanted to be in control of the conversation.
“Not a lot,” he said. “What do I need to know?”
“Nicely deflected, Gaz, but I’ll tell you anyway.” Finishing off his coffee, he put the cup slowly down. He had a nice sense of the dramatic, Gary thought.
“Keith runs an inner sanctum,” he said finally, before sitting back and waiting for a reaction.
“Oh?” A slight surprise to hear that theory vindicated but not a shock. “A sect within a sect?”
Raif smiled suddenly. “Don’t let Maria hear you say that.”
“You won’t,” he said. “Does Keith like a bit on the side?”
“Keith?” Raif shook his head. “No chance, the man’s a simpering idiot and a religious nutter. That’s two strikes against him.”
“His interests are purely financial then?”
“As far as I know.”
“Is Maria in this sub-group?”
“Are you joking? She was always nosey, but never joined, even if she were asked.”
“Was she asked?”
Raif smiled at the thought. “I doubt it, you’d never get a penny off her. Remember, it’s a financial project and Keith was always looking to raise money. You could describe it as a social club with members chosen by invitation only. There was a preponderance of women, but that’s because it mirrors the congregation. Many of those young people are new to the area.”
“New dwellers?”
He smiled but didn’t reply for a few seconds. “Look upon it as a young Christian group involved in young Christian activities.”
“Were Debbie or Gail involved?”
He smiled again. “Not unless they were opening a lesbian branch.”
“That’s a ‘no’ then?”
He nodded.
“Where do you come in, Raif?”
“I’m an advisor.”
“You advise them?” he asked. “Would this advice involve the group lending you money?”
“Only in the short term.”
“You hope?”
The genial mask slipped a little and Raif’s frown was dark.
“Scott tells me you had some good prospects lined up,” Gary said cautiously. “One in particular.”
Raif’s frown changed to a scowl. “Scott?”
“Scott Sinclair,” he said. “You remember him?”
“That Scott?” Raif’s shoulders stiffened. “How would he know anything about it?”
“He told me you were gobbing off in the pub recently.”
Raif’s lips tightened. “Then he’s lying or imaging things, Gaz. I haven’t seen Scott for months. Not since his wife managed to get herself pregnant. Are you sure it’s not you getting confused and imagining things in your old age?”
Raif was definitely evasive, without obvious signs of directly lying. Whatever critical faculties, he’d amassed in the last few days, they weren’t up to detecting untruths in Raif today, but he didn’t need additional faculties to know his host was annoyed by the mention of Scott,
“Is this any business of yours Gaz,” he said again.
“They’re only harmless questions, surely?” he asked.
“Are they?” Raif asked.
In retrospect, he decided, he’d made matters worse. “So, you’ve not seen Scott in months?” he asked.
“No,” he said. “What’s up with you, Gaz? You used to be a bright bloke. Has your new woman sent you barmy? Asking daft questions like this without taking ‘no’ for an answer?”
Gary finished off the coffee even though it was had grown cold. “You must admit a man like you in a religious group takes some believing.”
He gave a short nod. “I suppose so,” he said. “But needs must.”
“Things are that bad?”
“They could be better.”
“And prospects aren’t bright?”
Raif’s eyes narrowed again. “They could be worse, but you’ve never bothered about my welfare before. Why now?”
“It’s not your welfare I’m bothered about,” he said, trying to give a conspiratorial smile. It didn’t work, Raif’s look of suspicion deepened.
“Is it your new girlfriend’s welfare you’re more concerned with?” he asked. “A sniff of new fanny and you’re helpless, is that it?”
“No.”
He smiled triumphantly. “That’s it, isn’t it? She smelled money and sent you along to grub for information. You’ll get no more information from me, Gaz, but I’ll give you some good advice. From what I hear, she lives for money. Where she’s concerned, don’t get the wrong side of a pound coin, or a dollar bill for that matter.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just what I’ve heard.” His smile changed to one of sympathy.
Hmm … it looked genuine, was it time for a change of tack? “OK,” Gary said. “I’d better come clean,” he said. “Maria has been concerned about the group finances for some time. I thought you might have the inside track.”
“Is that so?” Although he nodded, doubts about his visitor lingered, ready to be renewed at any time.
“Yup.”
Raif relaxed a little, his shoulders losing their tightness. “Women,” he said. “They always want to interfere in things they don’t understand.”
Gary gave a quick nod. “Is there anything I should worry about?”
Raif looked away or a second, but it wasn’t the look of a man lying, more the look of a man wondering how much to say. Not a lot was the answer. “Gaz,” he began. “Let sleeping dogs lie. They’re a very trusting group and you’re going to get discrepancies here and there in an enterprise ru
n by amateurs. But I’m not directly involved and neither is your nosy girlfriend, and nor was her late sister. Best stay out of things you don’t understand is my advice. But your girlfriend definitely knows one end of a ten-pound note from the other - she’s in a different category and might know more than you suspect.”
“If she knew anything definitely,” he said. “She’d hardly send me here.”
For some reason, that amused Raif enough to give a wide grin. “Now, I believe you,” he said. “That’s the old Gaz talking. Beware, you’re out of your depth.”
“Am I?”
“For sure,” he said. “Keep clear of this sub-group.” He stared for a moment. “They call themselves the ‘Fairies’. Have you heard of them?” Before Gary could answer, Raif gave a smile of triumph. “Caught you,” he said. “I saw it your frown when I mentioned the ‘Fairies’. It’s the Angels, isn’t, and you already knew that. Maria because primed you.”
“I …”
“Be very careful, Gaz, you’re a kitten amongst tigers.”
With that warning ringing in his ears, he said his farewells to Raif, but he didn’t drive away immediately. He needed time to think rationally. Raif had been logical, too logical for comfort, and unfortunately, the warnings rang true. If there was a culprit, and he remained to be convinced of that, Raif would have been a convenient one. If only things were always that straightforward.
Still, the confirmation of that sub-group was interesting, even if Raif had warned him off. The morning had not been a total right-off, but as a Sherlock Holmes, he’d been a failure. Raif had caught him out with the Fairies/Angels ploy. It was a fair cop, but he was the one who should have been setting traps.
The only loose end was Raif’s denial that he’d met Scott in the pub recently. He couldn’t imagine any reason for Scott to lie, but it was possible Raif had been too drunk to remember. Possible, but out of character.
He sighed, the only thing to emerge from this morning’s adventure was that tiny discrepancy, the square root of bugger-all.
When, he started the engine and glanced into the rear-view mirror, he noticed the car he’d seen earlier. It was parked some way behind but in plain sight. Yes, he decided after a closer inspection, it was the same car, the smashed headlight was unmistakable. Hardly the car you’d use to trail someone if you wanted to keep it secret.