Waterloo Sunset

by Martin Edwards

  Unless someone had been careless, the room behind was occupied. Harry held his breath.

  Was that a faint noise? He strained his ears. Yes, he could hear a sound, almost like hands clapping.

  He shuffled up to the door. The noise on the other side became louder.

  Suddenly he heard a shriek of pain.

  No time to think, or shout to Gina to summon help. Someone was being hurt, he was sure of it. He put his shoulder against the door and heaved against it with his whole body weight.

  The door wasn’t locked, and it gave way at once. His momentum propelled him inside and his legs gave way under him. As he clambered to his feet, he kept blinking hard to adjust to the light shed by a dim red bulb suspended from the ceiling.

  But it would take more than an instant to adjust to what he saw.

  Victor Creevey was stripped to his garish mauve underpants. He’d taken off his glasses and his puny chest glistened with sweat. His right hand clutched a knotted cord.

  Tied to the wall by leather straps was a skinny, naked man with a mass of thick black hair and a nose stud. Barney Eagleson, it had to be. His skin gleamed; it was as well oiled as the shutter outside. Half a dozen dark weals striped his back.

  On a table in the corner of the room lay the men’s clothes and a bunch of keys. Together with a couple of whips, a black hood with slits for eyes, and assorted accessories to cater for every conceivable fancy of the do-it-yourself S&M enthusiast. And on the ground was an outline of a man, chalked in much greater anatomical detail than ever found at a crime scene. His hands were bound above his head.

  Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’d spent the last couple of weeks working five floors above a makeshift torture chamber.

  ‘Where’s the harm?’ Victor Creevey repeated. ‘It’s a free country.’

  His horror at Harry’s arrival had given way to a stubborn defiance. He’d morphed into a militant trade unionist, insisting on the right to strike. In his case, with a knotted cord.

  Harry jerked a thumb towards Barney Eagleson’s damaged flesh. Although Victor had unstrapped him, Barney was sitting on his haunches, head buried in his hands. He was making unhappy noises.

  ‘Tell him that.’

  ‘Barney? The man’s embarrassed, that’s all, and who can blame him? We’re consenting adults, Harry, that’s all that matters.’

  ‘You told me how slaves used to be chained up here in olden times. Not much has changed, eh?’

  ‘Except that it’s a game,’ Victor hissed. ‘You ought to know the law better than me. Everything we do here is perfectly legal and above board. Barney and I have our human rights, same as everybody. We’re not hurting anyone. At least not anyone else.’

  ‘You fixed the CCTV so that nobody could watch what you were up to. Without tapes and television, you could come and go as you pleased.’

  ‘We live in a surveillance society, Harry. What happened to civil liberties?’

  ‘Jim Crusoe’s still in intensive care. If we’d had watchable footage of the man who attacked him…’

  ‘I couldn’t have foreseen that, Harry.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry.’ Victor’s mulish expression suggested he seldom said sorry. ‘But it wasn’t me who hit your partner.’

  ‘How can I be sure that he didn’t stumble on this room, that you didn’t attack him in a state of panic?’

  Victor’s voice rose as stubbornness dissolved into astonishment. ‘You can’t be serious! I wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  Harry jerked a thumb towards Barney. He was still whimpering.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘That’s different. It’s…about pleasure as well as pain.’

  ‘You have to be the prime suspect.’

  ‘Whoever attacked your partner came close to committing murder.’ Victor folded his thin arms in a gesture of wounded dignity. ‘The poor man almost died.’

  ‘I bet your first thought was for yourself. Whether the police would find out about your little game.’

  Victor exhaled. ‘I managed to fob the constable off. Told him the key to the shutter was lost. He didn’t ask any more questions. Quite right, too. Interfering down here wouldn’t have helped find the man who left Jim for dead.’

  ‘If you didn’t do it, have you any idea who did?’

  ‘Not the foggiest. Barney and I planned to have a session down here later that evening, after a couple of drinks at the Stapledon. Of course, the emergency services swarming all over put paid to that.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘This is the first time Barney and I have come back here since then.’ Victor’s tone became self-righteous. ‘Out of respect, you might say.’

  Harry grunted. No wonder Irena had startled Victor when she’d revealed she had nothing on beneath her overall. Women didn’t have much to fear from him.

  ‘Each to his own, my friend.’ Victor puffed out his pigeon chest.

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  Time to face facts. Neither Victor nor Barney had murdered the escort girls, and Harry couldn’t imagine either of them bashing Jim over the head. As Victor said, their thirst for violence was strictly make-believe.

  ‘Listen, it would be a miserable world if we all had the same tastes.’

  Harry glanced at the assorted plugs, clamps and whips on the table. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘No need to be sarky. S&M is becoming as respectable as an interest in forensic science.’

  ‘I suppose Casper May has no idea of what’s happening on his premises?’

  Victor’s face turned the shade of a tomato. ‘Listen, Harry, it’s no skin off his nose. You won’t mention this little incident, I hope. You’re not a vindictive man, I’m sure, and it would be more than my job’s worth.’

  ‘No,’ he said wearily. ‘I don’t owe Casper May any favours. I don’t think anything in our lease forces me to tell him.’

  ‘Thanks, Harry. You’re a man of integrity. You can keep confidences.’

  ‘Speaking of which, who else knows that the murdered women had their tongues cut out?’

  The change of tack startled the two men. Barney said, ‘I dropped a hint the other evening, it was wrong of me, I know. But I swear I haven’t mentioned it to anyone other than Victor here.’

  Victor attempted the expression of a virtuous seeker after knowledge. ‘And that’s only because of my academic interest in crime scene investigations.’

  ‘Oh really?’

  ‘Yes, really. Neither of us have breathed a word, have we, Barney?’

  ‘I would never do anything to compromise an investigation,’ the embalmer said. ‘Gossiping about an ongoing case would be the quickest way to wreck my career.’

  Harry would take some convincing, but it was clear that the two men had bared their souls enough for one night. He wasn’t about to drag an admission from either of them.

  Victor wanted to change the subject. ‘One question, though. I’m always so careful to lock the shutter behind us. It excites Barney, you know. The thought that one day we might be locked in. Entombed forever in our own torture dungeon.’

  ‘Yeah, well, whatever turns you on.’

  ‘So how did you get in here?’

  Harry heard footsteps approaching down the dark passage and within moments Gina appeared in the doorway. For a nanosecond it was as if she couldn’t comprehend the scene that greeted her eyes.

  ‘I heard…oh, Jesus.’

  As her voice died away, Victor closed his eyes in despair. Barney peeped at her through his hands and gave a panicky yelp.

  Harry sighed. ‘The answer to your question is that I needed help. And I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I’m not sure that keeping this quiet is going to be easy.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ten minutes later, Harry and Gina were waiting for the lift to take them back upstairs. Victor had told Lou he could go home, before disappearing back to his flat to help Barney wash the last of the oil off his angular frame. Nobody was manning the
desk, but given the events of the past few days, who cared?

  ‘I’ll ask Irena to keep shtum,’ Gina said. ‘Mind you, Victor is so unpopular with the girls, he’ll have to make it worth Irena’s while.’

  ‘If he has any sense, he’ll start hunting through the Situations Vacant column. He won’t want to hang around if our landlord finds out what he’s been up to.’

  ‘The landlord is the bloke we met in the bar? He looked about as sympathetic as a claw hammer. It can’t be a picnic for your lady friend, being married to a man like that. No wonder she took a shine to you.’

  ‘Until this week, I hadn’t seen her for years.’ Harry hoped he wasn’t protesting too much.

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  The lift doors opened, and Wayne Saxelby’s tanned face beamed out at them. There was no getting away from him. He gave Gina an interested glance and hailed Harry with his customary exuberance.

  ‘Good evening, Harry. Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

  ‘Gina, this is Wayne Saxelby.’ She gave him a mock-curtsey. ‘Wayne, meet Gina Paget. Gina works for Culture City Cleaners.’

  ‘I recognise the uniform.’ Wayne grinned as he shook her hand. ‘Good to see you liaising closely with the staff, Harry. You’ve anticipated one of the recommendations in my report.’

  ‘Report?’ Gina asked.

  ‘Wayne is a management consultant,’ Harry said. ‘He lives in the penthouse on the top floor, but he and I go back years. He’s helping us develop our business plan and marketing strategies.’

  ‘Lovely,’ she said in a baffled tone.

  Wayne said, ‘Have you heard? It was on the radio half an hour ago, the police want to question Tom Gunter about the death of his girlfriend. They reckon he’s still in Merseyside, but they warned the public not to approach him. He’s described as dangerous.’

  Gina said, ‘Who is Tom Gunter?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Last Monday, he threatened Harry with a knife in the church gardens at the back here.’

  She dug Harry in the ribs. ‘You never mentioned that! I didn’t realise solicitors lead such exciting lives.’

  ‘Believe me,’ Wayne chortled. ‘You don’t want to kid yourself that this fellow is your typical Liverpudlian lawyer. They broke the mould when they made Harry Devlin.’

  ‘Yeah, well, thanks for the testimonial.’ Bored with waiting for passengers, the lift doors had closed. Harry pressed the button again. ‘I’d better be getting on.’

  ‘Any more news about Midsummer’s Eve?’ Wayne asked.

  Harry followed Gina into the lift carriage. ‘I decided it must be a hoax.’

  Wayne tutted. ‘You don’t want to take it lightly. Someone is threatening you. It’s as if there’s some special significance to Midsummer’s Eve.’

  Harry pressed for his floor. ‘If so, it’s escaped me so far.’

  ‘You need to work on it. Think harder. Are you sure Tom Gunter didn’t send the note?’

  Harry cast his mind back to his last meeting with Tom. He’d been so sure that the man’s startled reaction was genuine. Might he have misread it? His calamitous experience with Ceri Hussain the other night was proof, if it were needed, of his flair for getting the wrong idea.

  As the lift doors closed, he offered a helpless shrug and Wayne shook his head, like a teacher disappointed with a dunce.

  ‘He has the gift of the gab, your friend,’ Gina said. ‘I bet he thinks he can charm the birds off the trees.’

  Harry said nothing. He was in no mood to heap praise on Wayne’s way with women. Not that he was jealous, of course. And not that he wanted Gina for himself, either. She was too young for him, and he wasn’t her type.

  In the confines of the lift, the sour whiff of bleach on her overall was unmistakable, but when she treated him to a naughty-girl smile, he couldn’t help laughing with pleasure.

  ‘Honestly, I thought I was going to die when I walked into that dungeon. I mean, Lee and I once did a photo-shoot in a studio in Soho that was kitted out like that. But you don’t expect to come across S&M in a city office block.’

  ‘It’s common enough, but in a different way,’ he said as the lift stopped. ‘Meetings with auditors, taxmen and people from the Law Society. But there’s not much pleasure and an excess of pain.’

  She put her hands on her hips. ‘I suppose I’d better finish vacuuming floors.’

  ‘Come out for a drink with me.’

  He said it on the spur of the moment, but as soon as he spoke, he knew he craved company. Was there much difference between him and the likes of Aled Borth and Victor Creevey? They all wanted to keep loneliness at bay.

  ‘Give me fifteen minutes to tidy up. And tidy myself.’

  ‘See you later.’

  ‘Is it all right if I bring Irena along too?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘She’s got a taste for double vodkas and a thirst like a docker. Better visit the cashpoint first.’

  ‘Your wish is my command.’

  She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Don’t tempt me, Harry.’

  He phoned Carmel to find she was in high spirits. Although Jim was groggy, the doctors seemed hopeful that he would make a good recovery.

  ‘They say you can’t predict a case like this. So much depends on how the patient wakes up. You can have weird experiences when you’re unconscious for so long, it must be frightening. He’ll need to undergo tests, but he recognised me. We talked for ten minutes before he dozed off again.’

  ‘When can I see him?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning would be good. The poor man doesn’t remember anything about the assault. He didn’t see anyone, as far as he can recall. Sounds as though someone was hiding down there and hit him before he had a clue what was happening. The police are no nearer to finding who did it. They’ve checked out the usual suspects in mugging cases, but no joy. I wondered…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but it occurred to me that whoever hit Jim might have been targeting you. Perhaps they realised their mistake, that’s why they didn’t finish him off.’

  ‘I never use the car park. Anyone who knew me would see they’d got the wrong man.’

  ‘What if someone was hired to attack you, someone you’d never met?’

  ‘With no means of identifying me? So they might have left for dead anyone who happened along? It doesn’t stack up.’ He paused. ‘And I’m not thrilled with the idea that someone was hired to smash my brain to a pulp.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m just flailing around for an explanation.’ She paused. ‘Have you heard the latest about Gunter?’

  ‘That the police have issued an appeal for sightings? Wayne Saxelby told me. He even made me wonder if I was mistaken, and Tom was responsible for that nonsense about Midsummer’s Eve.’

  ‘Suppose someone else paid him to frighten you?’

  Harry frowned at the telephone. ‘You like this idea that I have an unseen enemy with a secret grudge and money to burn?’

  ‘Just thinking aloud.’

  There was a knock at the door and Gina appeared. She’d changed out of her overall into a smock top with ruched sleeves and indigo skinny jeans. She looked set for a night on the town, with her thick gold belt, gold bangle, gold wedges and matching bag. A moment later, she was joined by another young woman with a high pony tail. Irena was dark and pretty, in a red halter neck top that left little to the imagination. No wonder Victor had been distracted when Irena showed up on his doorstep, even if he was immune to her sexual charms.

  ‘Harry, are you all right?’ Carmel asked.

  Gina beckoned him with her forefinger.

  ‘Seldom better,’ he said.

  The big screens in the Stapledon were alive with The Blob. A young Steve McQueen urged folk in his home town to beware of being gobbled up by an extra-terrestrial blancmange. Like all alien menaces, the pink gelatinous goo was impervious to bullets, but possessed a
single, quirky weak spot. Steve was about to discover that he could melt it by judicious use of a fire extinguisher. If only Harry’s anonymous adversary were so easily tracked down and vaporised.

  He bought the drinks and joined the two women at a corner table. Irena’s command of English might be erratic, but by gesture as well as word she was making clear beyond doubt her opinion of Victor Creevey.

  ‘I wanted to ask you about Lee Welch,’ he said. ‘She’d come into money unexpectedly.’

  Gina nodded. ‘Found herself a rich bloke, I suppose. A sugar daddy.’

  ‘Might she have wanted you to think so?’

  ‘Of course. We were mates, but that didn’t stop her wanting to make me jealous. She liked to keep one step ahead of me.’

  Not many people would stay one step ahead of Gina, he thought. ‘The money may not have come from an admirer. I’ve heard she’d found out someone’s guilty secret.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You mean she was a blackmailer?’

  ‘She may not have thought of it quite like that. But if my source is reliable, the answer is yes.’

  Gina winked at Irena. ‘Don’t you love the way lawyers talk? So, is your source reliable?’

  He cast his mind back to Aled Borth, weeping on the floor of the Waterloo Alhambra. ‘Not usually. But it’s worth asking a few questions. Supposedly Lee obtained this information while she was at work. Did she drop a hint?’

  ‘No, she enjoyed being mysterious.’ Gina shivered with distaste. ‘I didn’t want to know anything about her clients, or what she got up to with them. I was disappointed in her. When we were in London, we could both have made a lot of money if we’d taken up the offers we were made. But we didn’t.’

  ‘Why did she change her mind when she got back home?’

  Gina took a sip of Chablis. ‘If you ask me, she’d given up on making it as an actor. Not that Lee would ever admit it, but a lot of girls are out there, all with the same dream. We’d tried and failed in London. I think she’d decided that if she wanted a cushy life, she had to marry a rich man. Until he walked into her life, she was willing to grab any chance of making a few quid that came her way.’